*************

One foot in the living room, the other in the hall, Buffy’s gaze swivelled between the assemblage and babble before her and the distant rush of running water filtering from the closed door behind her.  Eight people were now congregated in the living room---well, seven people and a magically bound vengeance demon---waiting for Spike to finish showering so that information could be shared.  Once Clara had confirmed for the group that the threat of Sandrine could wait the time it would take the vampire to change and clean up, he’d been off to the bedroom like a shot, not even bothering to knock as he barged in and grabbed his things.

A bewildered Giles had wandered out after him, but the definitive click on the bathroom door had turned his head to his charge for answers.

“Surprise!” she’d said with a smile, and then nodded to the other new arrivals.  “And he even came back bearing gifts.”

So, now they were waiting for Spike to finish up.  Anya and Tara were wrapping up the details of what they wanted Halfrek to relay to D’Hoffryn, Giles was sitting in quiet discussion with Clara on the couch, while Freddie, Peter, and Xander were sitting in the middle of the floor, whittling some new stakes.  Her presence wasn’t really required here, Buffy decided, and stepped silently backward toward the bathroom.

The steam rolled in waves through the crack she allowed herself to enter, but as the door clicked shut behind her, Spike’s muttered, “Bloody hell,” echoed through the room.

“Realize it’s a bit too Brady Bunch these days with the lone bathroom,” he sniped through the shower curtain.  “But can’t a bloke get five minutes of peace?  Doesn’t seem that washing’s such a---.”

“It’s just me, Spike,” she said with a small smile.

Immediately, his platinum head poked around the edge.  “Buffy,” he noted with surprise. “You should’ve said straight away it was you.”  His eyes gleamed as a pale hand held the curtain back.  “Well, off with your kit then.  No tellin’ how long we’ve got and I’d rather fancy another taste of that delectable neck of yours before havin’ to listen to Rupert natter on about wishing to be blind again.”

Her smile widened, but she didn’t move.  “Oh, because both of us walking out of here soaking wet wouldn’t look obvious at all.”

“Thought it didn’t matter any more, luv.  Thought you squared everything away with the others.”  Spike’s voice had dropped, husky and seductive, and she felt her thighs begin to tingle as he lowered his head to look at her through his lashes, his tongue curling against the inside of his teeth.  “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t love to get in here.  I’m not the only one who’s been fighting tonight.  I can practically taste the sweat on you all the way over here.”

“Nice try, but I’m fine.”

“Oh?  You remember what this shower feels like.  All that pressure and whatnot.  You sure you don’t want one more bite of its hot, pounding sensations on your back?  Get the kinks out, it will.  Loosen you right up.”

Her skin was prickling from the heat, and she felt the itch of a line of sweat begin to snake down the back of her neck.  His words were making her mouth water, but reason was still winning inside Buffy’s head.  “As tempting as the offer is, something tells me we won’t be washing if I get in there.”

He pretended to pout.  “Not sure I like this hard to play act, pet.  Puts a crimp in my seduction here.”  The glint in his eyes returned.  “’Course, if you want me to come out there and get you, that might be fun, too.”

Her mouth opened to say he didn’t dare, but closed right away with an audible click when she hastily realized he would.  What was she arguing for anyway?  There wasn’t anything happening out in the living room that necessitated her presence, and it wasn’t like their relationship was exactly a secret any more.  And a shower did sound nice…

“You have to be quiet,” she warned with a pointed finger.  “We’ve got enough explaining about what’s been happening with everything when we get out of here.  I don’t want to have to add why you scream in the shower to the list.”

“Think it would be more like why you scream in the shower, pet.”

“Spike…”

“Let me scrub your back?”

“Of course.”

“Then, mum’s the word.”

Quickly, she stripped off her clothes, feeling his eyes on her like a velvet stroke before slipping in at the opposite end of the tub.  Spike was on her like a shot, pulling the sponge from her hand and sliding around so that she stood directly in the spray. 

Almost immediately, the tension began melting away from her body as Buffy tilted her head back to allow the shattering droplets to pelt her skin.  The sigh that escaped her lips when Spike pressed himself against her, reaching around to run the sponge over the pebbled tips of her nipples, was almost a moan.

“Told you, you’d love it,” he murmured into her ear.

“Remind me to sleep some time next week,” she said, using his chest as a brace as she closed her eyes.

“You should get a spot of rest once we get the tales out of the way,” he replied.  The sponge slid between her breasts, gliding in circular motions across her stomach, daringly skirting the edge of her pubic bone with the vague potential of more.  “Red said Sandrine’s schedule wasn’t goin’ to start hoppin’ until tonight.”

It was the mention of her friend that drove her lids back up.  “Wait.”  Adrenaline straightened her limbs, and she turned around to face the vampire.  “What’s this about Willow?”

“That’s part of one of the blanks I was goin’ to fill in.  She’s the reason I was able to get away.  Somewhere behind that bitch Sandrine, Red’s still ticking.”  His lips quirked into a smile.  “Figure you and Tara would be pleased as punch at that little tidbit.”

“And you’re only now telling me this?” 

Her volume was rising, bringing a frown to Spike’s face.  “I believe it’s the first chance I’ve had, luv.  If memory serves, I’ve spent the rest of my time gettin’ jumped, sorting us out, and…oh yeah.  Gettin’ jumped.”

Buffy blushed, though part of her heightening color was surely attributable to the scalding water.  “Right, right,” she said, shaking her head.  “It’s just…been a long night.”

His fingers pushed back the tendrils of her hair that had yet to find water, soaking them beneath the spray while he gently massaged her scalp.  “This’ll wait then,” he said softly. 

She could feel the promise of his chest just a whisper away as she let her eyes drift closed again, savoring the firm caress of his touch as he washed her hair.  Spike was still aroused, but the fact that he was choosing to ignore it in light of her more pressing needs only reminded her yet again of just how far he had come.

“…get our plans in order,” he was saying.  “And then you and me are goin’ to curl up in that bed---.”

“We can’t.”

His hands paused.  “You need to sleep, Buffy.  Don’t think I’m lettin’ you face off with Sandrine tonight without bein’ up to scratch.”

“No, I just meant we can’t use the bed.  Well, I can’t use the bed.”  She cracked an eye to look up at him.  “Girls in the living room, guys in the bedroom.  Those are the sleeping arrangements.”

“Bugger,” Spike muttered.  “Whose brilliant idea was that?”

“Actually, mine.  That was before you pulled your great escape, though.”  His hands started up again, slower this time, spreading through her locks to loosen the shampoo, sending it spiralling down the drain as she sighed in satisfaction.  “How about I make it up to you as soon as we get Willow back, get her away from Iris before anyone can summon Sira, get the voix mortelle back to D’Hoffryn, and sleep for a month of Sundays?”

Spike snickered.  “Think maybe we’ll be makin’ it up to each other, luv.”  The taste of his lips against hers took her by surprise, and she smiled beneath his kiss, easing against him as his arms circled her back. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t wait,” she murmured when he pulled away.  “This might be our last alone time for awhile.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, and swooped back in for another kiss.

*************

“Now.  Let me get this straight.”  Giles’ gaze was penetrating as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees to meet Spike’s eyes more directly, ignoring both the way Buffy was resting against the vampire’s side where they sat on the piano bench and the vampire’s absentminded stroking of her bare arm.  “Willow has control of Sandrine when she’s just waking, and told you when she was releasing you from the spell that we can bring her back by summoning the djab Stella and Freddie serve.  The one who brought forth Sandrine in the first place.”

“That’s what she said.”

“And Sandrine is summoning Sira tonight.”

“She said that too.”

“That means she’s got the other half of the voix mortelle already,” Anya said.  Seated between Xander and Tara on the couch, she didn’t flinch when all eyes turned to look at her.  “At least that’s D’Hoffryn’s interest secured.  There’s no way he won’t show up now.”

“But she’s gotta be wrong,” Freddie protested from his place on the floor.  “It took two of us to get Sandrine here.  It’s goin’ to take two of us to make her go back.”

“Can’t one of us help you?” asked Tara.

“When was the last time you performed a vodou ritual?” he posited sarcastically.  Her embarrassed flush was the only answer he needed.  “So, I’ll say it again.  We’re not---.”

“I’ll help you.”  Clara rose from the dining room table and walked over to the group, leaving Peter to stand cross-armed against the wall.  She waved a hand of dismissal at the group.  “Oh, stop looking at me like that.  Like I’d walk away from you bunch after everything else I’ve done.  If I didn’t want to do what I can, I would’ve just given Spike the cab fare and told him where he could find Buffy instead of giving him the guided tour myself.”

Freddie’s shoulders slumped, his head dropping.  “We are goin’ to be cutting it real close, you know that, don’t you?”  His breathing was becoming audible, quickening and rasping.  “We can only summon the djab after sunset, and Sandrine’s plan is happening at the same time, and---.”  His words cut off when Giles settled his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Relax, Freddie,” the Watcher murmured.  “Remember what I taught you.”

As everyone watched, the young man closed his eyes, entwining his fingers in front of him as he struggled to regain his control.  Slowly, his breaths evened out, disappearing into the still of the room.  When he lifted his head again, his eyes were clear, and he turned to look at the Englishman.  “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“So, that’s that, then,” Buffy said.  “We get out to the swamps as close to sunset as we can manage, do the switcheroo before Sandrine can do the summoning, and voila!  Problem solved.”

“Don’t you think we should get Willow away from Iris before we switch them back?” Tara asked.  “I mean, if we do it after, won’t Iris kill her when she realizes what’s happened?”

“We just have to do it fast then,” the Slayer said firmly.  “With two teams.  You and Spike will guard Freddie and Clara to make sure their end goes off without a hitch, and the rest of us will camp out where Sandrine is so that we’re ready to grab Willow when it’s done.”

“What about D’Hoffryn?”

She shrugged.  “Until he pokes his nose and says he’s in, I’m not counting on any extra bodies to be in the fight, even though it would be nice.  We’ll figure out what to do about him after.”  She looked around the group.  “So.  Are we settled then?”

“Not quite,” said Clara.  “One thing Spike said doesn’t make sense to me.”  Her gaze settled on the vampire.  “You said Sandrine told you she was going to use you to sacrifice to Sira, is that right?”

“I believe I got dubbed ‘the lucky one,’” he agreed with a nod.

“Now, I don’t know much about this serpent demon she’s calling forth, well, except for the part about it being just this shy of the devil himself, but since when can ritual sacrifices be done with dead creatures?”  She offered him a small smile.  “No offense, of course.”

Spike shrugged.  “None taken.”

Everyone was silent, looking around at each other before turning back to look at Clara again.  “What is it you’re saying?” Buffy asked warily.

“What I’m saying, is that these kinds of rituals require the giving of life.  The shedding of pure blood.  Most rituals that I know about, that is.  And as much as I like him, Spike’s not really either of things, now is he?  All I’m wondering is…why would Sandrine claim to be willing to use him that way if it’s just not possible?”

Her mouth was opening to answer, ready to say, “Maybe it’s a ritual you don’t know about then,” but the Slayer was interrupted.  The sudden burst of flames that engulfed the lanai doors made Anya shriek on the couch, jumping to her feet to put it between her and the entrance, the rest of the gang scrambling erect just moments afterward.

All eyes locked on the bonfire that licked up the white frames, and Buffy took a bold step forward when she saw Sandrine, draped in Spike’s duster, step through it unharmed.  “Insurance companies must really hate you,” she quipped, folding her arms over her small breasts.  “Although I have to say, the fire thing is getting kind of old.”

The redhead smiled, her eyes flickering over the group, searching their necks before coming back empty to the Slayer.  “I don’t see your little trinkets hanging around,” she commented.  “Pity.  That might’ve actually made this a little interesting.”

“That’s my coat, you bitch,” Spike growled.

“What’s the saying?  Oh yeah.  Finders keepers.”

When Sandrine laughed, Buffy felt the vampire press forward in an angry snarl, and held up a warning hand to keep him back.  “Now’s really not the time for that, Spike.”  Her eyes remained trained on the mambo.  Dawn was already outside, so she knew there would be no vampire back-up for Sandrine this time. It didn’t mean she was any less dangerous, though.  “What do you want?” she asked.

Sandrine lit up.  “Oh!  I know this one.”  Her face split into a huge, beauty queen fake smile.  “I want world peace, except, you know…”  It vanished just as quickly as it appeared.  “…not.”

“Fine.  Then I say we end this, right here, right now, because I’m kind of partial to the peace-having myself.”  Buffy’s muscles tensed to spring, but before she could move, the mambo’s finger came up, shooting an arrow of fire straight at her feet.

“I suggest you back off,” Sandrine gritted through her teeth.  “Or the next one of these goes right through Spike’s heart.”  When the Slayer froze, the redhead chuckled, a chilling, lifeless sound.  “God, you’re just as whipped as he is.  Can you be any more predictable?  Goody for me, of course, but not so goody for you.”  She took a lazy step forward, ignoring the flames that continued to burn behind her.  “Tell me how you did it, though.  Was it your little protection charm?  Is that how you got rid of my spell?”

“Did what?”

“Rescued Spike, you ninny.  I have to give you credit, though.  You did it a heck of a lot faster than I thought you would.”  Her gaze fell on Clara.  “That must be your influence.”  She held out her hand to the black woman as if in greeting, plastering a fake smile across her face.  “Hi.  We haven’t met.  I’m Sandrine.”  After seconds ticked by with no response from Clara, the redhead dropped her hand and shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  I just thought it was polite to introduce myself, seeing as how I’m going to be the one in charge of this town when this is all over.  Somehow, I don’t think you have enough gris gris to go around for everyone.”

It was then that Buffy realized Spike had been right.  Sandrine had no clue as to Willow’s presence inside her.  She believed the Slayer was behind the escape which meant that they still had a shot at getting this done.  It was just important to make sure that that knowledge stayed theirs for now.  “It was a set-up,” she said out loud.  “That’s why you took Spike.”

Sandrine turned back to face her.  “I only took Spike because you wouldn’t let me have Freddie, so really, anything that happens now is your fault, Buffy.  I knew Spike wasn’t going to cooperate.  You think I couldn’t see how head over heels he was for you?  So I hid out where you’d have least resistance to get him back, and kept his clothes so that I could do a location spell afterward.  Whither he goest, you goest too, and whither you were…”  This time, her gaze slid to Freddie, who was visibly trying to control his fear but failing miserably as his hands shook violently before him.  “Little Miss Bodyguard wouldn’t let him out of her sight for a second, I knew, not after working so hard to get him away.  And I figured Giles would do something to block the garde from working again.  Gotta say, I love having access to little Willow’s memories.  It makes figuring out what you guys are going to do a whole lot easier.”

Freddie.  This was all about Freddie. 

Buffy’s mind raced.  Sandrine needed someone for her sacrifice to Sira, but they needed Freddie in order to get Willow back.  No matter what happened, she couldn’t let him get into her clutches.

“You can’t protect him now,” the redhead was saying, her hands lifting.  “So, if you don’t mind---.”

“Actually, I do,” Buffy interrupted.  “I told you before.  You can’t have him.”

“Quit with the stalling already.  Nothing you say is gonna stop me.”

“How about, you can take me instead?”  A round of “What?” and “Buffy!” and a lone “Bloody hell!” echoed behind her, but the Slayer remained stalwart, staring down the woman opposite as her offer hung in the air between them.  She could do this.  She would be safe because they’d bring Willow back, and then Buffy would be in close enough proximity to get her best friend away from Iris safely.  It seemed like the perfect plan.  Too bad she couldn’t actually share it with any of the rest of the group without giving it away to the bad guy.  Or, bad girl, as the case may be.

Slowly, Sandrine smiled, turning away from Freddie.  “Let’s see if I have this straight,” she said.  “You’re willing to trade places with that worthless pile of testosterone there, I get to make my sacrifice to Sira except with a Slayer-sized package, and I get rid of you at the same time?”

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch.  An even trade.  I’m not letting you kill an innocent human being.  Not again.”

Sandrine laughed.  “Trust me.  He’s not so innocent.”

“I don’t care.”  She wasn’t going to give in to the false sense of gaiety the mambo was presenting, her face remaining closed and firm.  “That’s the deal.  Take it or leave it.”

“Have you gone completely daft, you silly bint?”

She could hear the anger in his voice, overlying the pain, but paying attention to it now was going to wreck her concentration.  Buffy took a step closer to Sandrine.  “What’s it going to be?” she asked.

“Gotta say I love that big old hero complex you’ve got.” The redhead raised her hands.  “I guess I’m taking it.”  And in a flash of light, she and the Slayer were gone.

It only took seconds before chaos broke out among the group, Xander and Giles rushing forward to tamp out the fire while the girls scurried to the kitchen for water.  With a violent roar, Spike sprang away from the flames, his arm swinging wildly until it connected with the wall, plaster showering down around his wrist in a fine mist from the impact.  He punched it again, and again, curses streaming under his breath, until Peter’s firm hand came down on his shoulder.

Clara was right there at his side.  “Now, did that poor wall ever do anything to you?” she teased.

He glared at her, tears springing from nowhere as the realization that Buffy was actually gone sunk in.  “Sod off,” he rasped, but the black man’s grip tightened when he tried to move away.

“She made a choice,” the seer said.  “Maybe you’re not seein’ the whole picture right now, bein’ so close to it and all, but what your Slayer did, she did with understanding.  Weeping for her isn’t going to change that.”

Blinking rapidly to stop the tears from actually falling, Spike turned away from her, fists aching for more release in spite of the blood that already dripped from his knuckles.  Everything was finally right again.  No more misunderstandings between him and Buffy.  Everything out in the open.  A plan to get order back into their world. 

Why did she have to go and bugger that up by offering her bloody trade?

“She trusted you,” Clara said quietly.  “Since when don’t you trust her back?”

And it was then that her earlier words clicked for him.  Big picture.  Freddie.  Willow.  All of it. 

Lifting his chin, Spike squared his jaw, marching determinedly over to the weapons bag.  As the fire at the porch doors abated, the members of the gang one by one turned to look at him stuffing the stakes that had been whittled earlier into the sack.

“What’re you doing?” Xander asked.

“You heard the Slayer,” the vampire said, no hesitation in his work.  “Two teams.  I’ll guard the vodou lot.”

“B-b-but…what about the other team?”  Tara’s brows were knitted in confusion.  “That was supposed to be Buffy.”

“Still is.”  Spike straightened, hefting the bag over his shoulder to carry to the door in wait for their departure.  The tears were gone, the blue bright and clear as they met with Giles’.  “She’s just working from the inside now.”

*************

“You’re a fool.”  Though Iris and Sandrine stood facing each other, both ramrod straight, even from her vantage point across the living room Buffy could feel the barely repressed anger coiling throughout the vampire’s body as she bit the words out, her own senses springing to a rapid alert even behind the barrier that prevented her escape. 

“And I’m beginning to get a little tired of a certain someone’s lack of so-called faith,” Sandrine replied in tones equally cold.

A scarlet-tipped finger pointed at the corner.  “You brought the Slayer to my home.  Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid that makes you?”

The redhead’s eyes flashed.  “You vampires are all the same,” she spat.  “You lack vision.”

“I can see perfectly fine that you’re going to be the death of us all, witch.”

“You’re already dead, dummy.”

“And so will you be if you don’t get her out of here!”

Their voices were rising, their tempers flaring just as high, but neither woman moved even a fraction of an inch from where they stood.  Buffy rolled her eyes.  This little show had been going on ever since she and Sandrine had materialized at the apartment she’d rescued Anya and Freddie from to see a minion about to go down on a half-naked Iris, and though the Slayer had been caged in the corner almost instantaneously, the vitriol that had erupted from the blonde vampire’s mouth had been just as immediate, kicking the other vamp to the side in her haste to argue with the mambo. 

He’d been the lucky one, scampering out the door and away from the fracas, leaving Buffy to stay and watch the fight that ensued.  Frankly, it was getting old, and though seeing them at odds meant bonus points for the good guys’ side, she would’ve much preferred not having a front row seat.

“It’s just a matter of a few hours,” Sandrine was saying.  “If you can manage to keep your fangs to yourself until sunset, you’ll see that this is the best plan all around.”

“There is no such thing as a best plan if a Slayer’s involved,” Iris argued.  “Using her as the sacrifice isn’t going to solve your problem.  Kill her, and another one will just get called, and that one will come after you, and the one after that, and the one after that until you are good and dead and mostly not buried because they’ll cut you up into lots of little pieces.”

“Won’t happen.”

“So maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll just cut off your head.  The end result will be the same.  You’re going to be dead and all of our work will be for nothing.”

For the first time, Sandrine seemed to relax in the vampire’s presence, taking a step back to expose the line of sight between the two blondes in the room.  “You want to tell her, Buffy?” the redhead asked lightly.  “Or do I get to be the bearer of good news?”  She waited for a response, but when the Slayer remained silent, her brows lifted.  “No?  Spoilsport.”  Back to Iris.  “Wanna know another of the benefits of me having little Willow’s memories?” she queried.  “I know that the Slayer line doesn’t go through Buffy anymore.  I kill her, and absolutely nothing will happen.”

The vampire frowned.  “That’s not possible.  One dies, another pops up just like some annoying, goody-goody Kleenex.  That’s the way it goes.  ”

“Yessiree, bob, you’re right there.”  Sandrine was almost bouncing in her glee.  “Except Buffy’s already died before, so the line went on to Kendra, who bit the big one from Drusilla---literally, I might add---and then to Faith.  And that Slayer happens to be locked away, all nice and cozy and safe from imminent death.  Twenty-five years to life, I believe.”

Understanding smoothed the lines from Iris’ brow, the corner of her mouth canting in a bloody slash.  “I’d heard rumors…”  For the first time, she acknowledged the Slayer’s presence in the room, eyes bright in both delight and reluctant admiration.  “So you really did come back from the dead?” she asked Buffy.

She folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin.  “Looking a lot better than you, I might add,” she said, confirming the vampire’s query.

Some of the shine faded, her mouth hardening.  “So, this one dies…”

“…and you get a few decades of Slayer-free goodness and I still get my snakey summoned,” Sandrine finished triumphantly.  She flopped down onto the couch, feigning exhaustion.  “Now, do be a good vamp and go do your sleeping by day thing.  I need time to rest up for tonight.”  She did a flicking motion with her fingers as her eyes drifted shut.  “I said, shoo.”

Buffy watched as the demon opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again with an audible click, pivoting on her heel and storming from the room.  “You really are bossy, aren’t you,” she observed dryly once it was just the two of them.

“Don’t really need to hear any comments from the peanut gallery right now,” Sandrine said from the couch, not even opening her eyes.  Exhaustion weighed her body into the cushions, her shoulders slumped for the first time since returning from the cottage.

“Or what?  You’ll kill me?”  She laughed.  “Would kind of defeat the purpose of saving me for snake bait tonight, wouldn’t it?” 

“Nothing says I can’t hand you over to him with a gag as this month’s favorite fashion accessory.”

Buffy pretended to pout.  “Spike gets silk pyjamas and I get a gag?  Where’s the justice in that?”  She heard Sandrine muttering, but the specific words escaped her.  Oh, good, she thought.  It’s working.  She had no intention in trying to escape until they reached the swamp, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try and rattle the mambo’s cage a little before they got there.  Anything to gain a little bit of an advantage.

“I forgot to thank you for those, by the way,” she went on cheerily.  “Normally, Spike’s all commando guy, but seeing him in your little seduction get-up?  Yum with a capital Y.  They’re going to get tons of use when we get back to Sunnydale.”

She could see the mambo shake her head, though she still didn’t turn to look back at Buffy.  “I’ve changed my mind,” Sandrine said.  “You and Spike are perfect for each other.  Neither one of you knows when to shut up.”

“Aw, c’mon.  You were all about the banter back at the cottage.  Don’t tell me going toe-to-toe with Iris sapped your quipping power.  Not that she’s much of a challenge, especially when the whole part about being sexually frustrated is factored in.  But can I just tell you…popping us in without knocking first?”  She shook her head, grimacing.  “So not the image I wanted to be carrying around inside my head today.”

There was a snort of derision.  “Please.  Iris is a joke.  Once Sira grants me my power, I’ll get rid of her.  Stupid vampire,” she muttered as an afterthought.

“A stupid vampire with surveillance and cameras all over the place,” Buffy said brightly.  She was having far too much fun goading the redhead, her confidence in the plans she and her friend had laid out---even if she didn’t get the opportunity to tell them about her adjusted role in them---bolstering her desire to shake the other woman’s assurance.  Sandrine had already made it clear she wasn’t going to harm the Slayer; apparently, Sira liked his sacrifices in pristine condition.  And after feeling so ineffectual for so long, Buffy was ready to take her frustrations out on anyone who got in her way.

On the couch, Sandrine sat up, frowning as her eyes scanned the room for the recording devices Buffy had alluded to.  Quickly, though, she scowled, shooting the blonde a dirty look.  “It won’t work, you know,” she said.  “You’re pretty much toast any way this happens.”

“If you say so.”  Bright, perky.  Buffy at her most annoying.

“I do.  I do say so.”

“Sure.  Whatever.”

“Stop that!”

“Stop what?”  OK, lather on the faux innocence and the annoyance factor went up by a power of ten.  Gotta remember that for future reference, the Slayer thought amusedly.

She watched as Sandrine growled in frustration, rising to her feet and stomping from the room without giving her prisoner another glance.  OK, that worked too well, she thought, her cheerful façade immediately dropping.  The goal had been just to keep her on edge, not to actually push her over it.  And now Buffy was forced to do the one thing she hated more than anything else.

Now, she had to wait.

*************

With the steering wheel as a drumpad, his thumbs tapped out a beat only heard in his head as Spike’s eyes darted to the slit in the black paint to peer out at Clara’s shop.  She was taking her sweet time with it, he thought irritably.  What happened to only needing a few things to help Freddie?

“Please tell me that blood you had for lunch wasn’t laced with caffeine,” Giles commented dryly from the passenger seat.  “You haven’t stopped fidgeting since she got out of the car.”

“Just want to get a move on,” Spike replied.  “It’s goin’ to take a bit to get out to Sira Sommeil and we want to be ready to move on bringing Red back as soon as the sun hits the horizon.”  His gaze flickered to the rearview mirror, catching Freddie’s eye in the back.  “That’s what you said, right?  Can’t start the shindig until after sunset?”

“That’s right,” the young man agreed.

“So just thinkin’ about time here, Rupert,” Spike finished, leveling his gaze at the Watcher.  “I’m not willing to let Buffy be at the hands of Sandrine any longer than she has to be.  The sooner we---.”

“Yes, yes, I get it.”  He cut him off with a wave of his hand, and frowned behind his glasses.  “My apologies if I’m not completely…adjusted to your deference to doing the good thing here,” he said sardonically.  “Buffy may have had time to adapt, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to grant the rest of us a period of reprieve in order to better habituate ourselves to your new…situation.”

Blue eyes bored into blue, and the muscles twitched in Spike’s cheek.  After a long minute, he said, “You obviously got something to say to me, so I suggest you just spit it out.  Is it me and Buffy?  Is that what’s got your knickers in such a twist?”

Giles’ face remained impassive.  “Buffy’s an adult.  She’s capable of choosing who she wishes to…spend time with.”

Spike snorted.  “Don’t see what you’re bein’ all delicate for,” he commented.  “This is me, remember?  I’ve been in your house.  I’ve seen your unmentionables.  You don’t have to pussyfoot around your words with me.  I’m not one of your precious protégés you’re afraid to sully with a little exposure to Ripper.”

The Watcher cast a look at the back seat.  “I hardly think this is the time or place for this type of discussion, Spike.”

Freddie immediately slid forward to lean over the back of the front seat.  “You want me to give you two a little privacy?” he offered.  “I can always run for beignets or lattes or something---.”

“No.” 

Their synchronous denials sent the young man scuttling back into his corner, and he turned his head away from the pair of frowns to stare ineffectually out the blacked out window.

“Whatever you need to say,” Spike said, returning to face the man next to him, “you can do it in front of the lad.  It’s not like he’s goin’ back with us to Sunnyhell.  No need for you to worry about bad impressions or whatnot.”

As his hands tightened around the crossbow that rested in his lap, Giles appraised the vampire in a cool sweep, noting the tennis shoes that now graced his feet instead of his customary boots, the lack of the duster that beaconed as Spike’s usual Big Bad trademark.  It was him, and then not, like a butterfly caught in transition, and the effect was disconcerting to say the least.  “It’s your chip,” he finally said out loud.  “I’m not yet comfortable with the fact that you’re in a position now to hurt Buffy.”

“Newsflash, Rupert.  I could always hurt Buffy.  I just chose not to all this time.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better, Spike.”  He shook his head.  “I told Buffy this, and I’m going to tell you the same thing.  Having a chip did not instill you with a soul.  Just because you’ve managed to not make a mess of things so far, doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll do the right thing, or that you even understand what the right thing is.”

“So, you’re tellin’ me that little pep talk back in my crypt, with all that higher purpose claptrap…that was just lipservice, right?  You didn’t believe one soddin’ word of it.”

“I did, but---.”

“Should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to walk the walk,” Spike muttered.  Disappointment clouded his aspect.  “Not that it makes a bloody difference to me, but Buffy has this fancy notion of caring what you think.”

“This isn’t about that.  This is about understanding what’s right, and what’s wrong without having to rely on technology to shock it into you.”

“Hate to break it to you,” the vampire said, “but I’ve always known the difference between right and wrong.” Though his voice was firm, there was no corresponding coldness in his gaze.    “Just never cared about it before, is all.”

“Oh, please,” Giles replied, with a roll of his eyes.  “Don’t even try pulling that ‘you care about it now’ line with me.  You think you know me so well?  Don’t forget, I lived with you, too.  I’d rather think I know you just as well as Buffy does at this point.”

“Things are different,” Spike argued.  “Have been for awhile.  I’m not sayin’ I’m all reformed and the like.  I’m just sayin’…”  He exhaled loudly in exasperation, long fingers running through his hair.  “I’m just sayin’,” he tried again, “the world looks different to me now.  I don’t…have the same type of urges as I did.  Don’t get me wrong.  They’re still there, just…don’t really want to be acting on them all the time like I did before.  Doesn’t seem right.”

“Are you trying to tell me that every time you look at Buffy, you don’t see the potential of another Slayer to add to your count?  A…living blood bag, so to speak?”

“No.  I see the woman I love.”

The matter-of-factness of his tone and the speed of his reply drove Giles to stare into the demon’s eyes, searching for any sign of duplicity.  The clearest cobalt stared back, daring him to question the truth that hung between them like a double-edged sword, and almost imperceptibly, the Watcher began shaking his head.

“You’re not nearly good enough for her, you know,” he said quietly, his body already tensing for an even lengthier argument.

He surprised him.  “I know,” Spike acquiesced, his voice equally low.  “Don’t think that I’m not goin’ to live with that every single moment she lets me share her life with her.  But she seems to think it doesn’t matter, so for her sake, I’m goin’ to set it aside.”  He looked away for the first time since starting the conversation.  “I’m not lookin’ for your approval in how I feel about her, Rupert.  But I’m not goin’ to let you deny it, either.  It’s real, and it’s not goin’ away, and I swear that for as long as she’ll let me, I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy.”

The car lapsed into silence as both Englishmen sank into their reveries, their thoughts not so different as each dwelled on the golden form of the Slayer and what she meant in their lives.  The air grew thick as the seconds passed, broken only when the back door opened and Clara collapsed onto the seat, a heavy bag in her lap.

“Next time I need supplies,” she gasped, “remind me to take one of you strapping young men along with me to do the carrying.”

*************

It was left to Freddie to help Clara with the supplies through the swamp, as the low-hanging sun forced Spike to travel with the blanket over his head, leaving Giles to manage the weapons cache.  They had been met at the morass’ edge by the other team, and after perfunctory direction from the vampire about what had happened during his previous visit, they had split up, each group trekking through the bog toward what they hoped was the final stop on their Big Easy expedition.

Tara sported one gris gris, while Giles had the other, dividing their protection against Sandrine should the mambo take them by surprise.  The redhead was already there, and it was that trail that Tara followed, leading her small group with more than a little trepidation toward the pull of the darker magic.  With the sun still out, they knew that Iris’ usual coterie would not be in attendance until later, and each and every one of them fervently wished that they reached the proceedings before that happened.  Of course, that didn’t preclude other types of demons to come into play, so they remained on guard regardless, creeping through the swamp as stealthily as they could.

The protection of the swamp meant Spike didn’t have to wait until complete sunset before tossing aside the blanket, and he immediately took one of the swords from Giles’ care as his eyes swept the perimeter.  Outside of the usual creepy crawlies that inhabited the area, he sensed absolutely nothing amiss, and felt the first finger of disappointment crawl up his spine.  Too easy, he thought, following after Freddie’s lead.  We’re getting in here too easy.  Why doesn’t that bitch have more defenses in place?

*************

Tara came to a halt in the middle of a boggy patch, an unsuspecting Anya almost colliding behind her.

“Watch it,” the ex-demon complained in a voice not designed for discretion.  She fidgeted with the sword she was having difficulty not dragging along the earth, and wished yet again that she’d asked for a lighter weapon.

“Sshhh,” Tara warned.  She cocked her head as if she was listening for something, and nearly jumped out of her skin when Peter rested a solid hand on her shoulder.

“There are voices ahead,” he said in a silken rumble.  “I will go on and scout them out.”

“No way,” Xander hissed, stepping up.  “All for one and one for all here.  Nobody’s scouting solo.  Them’s the rules.”  He almost blanched when the towering giant turned his leaden gaze upon him, and swallowed hard to maintain his composure when the other man spoke.

“I was born here,” he said simply.  “I know these lands better than you.  I will be careful.”

“Oh, and just because I’m not Brier Rabbit, I can’t be careful, too?” the brunette countered. 

“Xander!  I’m stressed out enough about this.  Lay off the bunny talk.”

He flushed at his slip.  “Sorry, Ahn.”

Peter’s face remained blank.  “Have you ever fought a vodou priestess before?  Would you even know how?”

“They’re not any relation to Incan mummy girls, are they?” he joked.  “’Cause those I got experience with.”

Peter didn’t even crack a smile, just lifted the sword in his hands and used it to point in the vicinity in front of them.  “She is out there,” he said simply.  “I only wish to ensure that you remain safe.”

“And what about you?”

But Peter was already moving, silent through the muck, his skin disappearing into the encroaching dark as he stepped away.  Tara rested her hand on Xander’s arm when he inched to follow.

“We’ll give him five minutes,” she said.  “He knows what he’s doing.  And we’re safe as long as we have the gris gris.”

“Yeah, but what about him?” Xander muttered, as his eyes narrowed to follow the man in front of them.

*************

Something was going on, something she’d been sensing ever since Sandrine’s surprise visit at the cottage, but what it was exactly, Willow couldn’t put her finger on.

Not that Buffy turning herself over instead of Freddie was all that surprising.  It smacked left and right of the Slayer’s brand of hero-saving.  No, what Willow couldn’t figure out was why Buffy never once tried to escape from Sandrine’s clutches, and why she had deliberately tried to goad the mambo into anger earlier at Iris’ apartment.

There must be some kind of plan.  She and Spike came up with something to finish this all up.

What it could be, though, escaped her understanding.

Sandrine had finally made good on her gag threat, muzzling Buffy long before they’d left the apartment.  Willow could see her now, stretched out on the dais the demons the mambo was employing had set in the middle of the swamp.  Ropes lashed her to the stone surface, while a circle of fire was already starting to grow around the platform.  It was several feet away, out of reach of actually harming the Slayer, to act more as a signal for Sira once he was summoned, but even knowing that nugget of information didn’t quell the fear that shook Willow’s awareness.

She wasn’t the only one afraid.  Before stepping away from the display, Sandrine had looked down at the bound Slayer, and Willow had seen the beginning of worry creeping into Buffy’s eyes.

This wasn’t what they had been expecting.  Buffy’s not sure she’s going to make it out of here.

She felt the cool satin of the staff in Sandrine’s hand, now intact and waiting for the words to be uttered that would bring it purpose again.  The demons encircled the clearing, and though Willow knew Iris was lying in wait for complete sunset, she suspected Sandrine wasn’t nearly so patient.

OK, not so much with the thinking everything is going to be all right, she thought desperately.  Maybe a little extra super-duper praying might be in order.

Are you there, God?  It’s me, Willow…

*************

Spike’s gaze was sweeping the darkened shadows of the clearing when he heard the small question from behind him.

“Did anyone remember to bring a flashlight?” Freddie asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Giles turning to look back at the pair on the ground.  “What on earth do you need a flashlight for?” the Watcher asked, annoyed.  “I don’t see you reading from a text or anything.”

“I can’t tell which root this is,” the young man said.  “I don’t want to mess this up.”

Clara’s exasperated sigh almost brought a smile to the vampire’s face.  Guess even the all-knowing ones can get peeved at the lad, he thought in amusement.  “Just give that to me,” he heard her say, followed by the rustling of some leaves and the clicking of beads.  “Now.  Start your prayers.  Let’s get this show on the road.”

Her orders were punctuated by a rumble trembling the ground beneath the vampire’s feet, and Spike stumbled awkwardly before regaining his balance.  As his head whipped around, a series of growls emanated from the darkness around him, and he stiffened as his senses went into alert.

“Please tell me that wasn’t because of the wrong soddin’ root,” he said in a low voice.

“We haven’t even started yet,” Freddie replied shakily.  The whites of his eyes gleamed as his gaze darted around, his hands beginning to shake against his bended knees until Clara reached across and settled hers on top of his.

“Then I suggest you do,” Giles said grimly.  “Before---.”

He was cut off by a much louder version of the growl, and a flash of scales tackled him to the ground, his blade slicing fruitlessly at the air.  Spike was to him in a second, grabbing the demon by the scruff of the neck and tossing him aside, shielding the two on the ground behind him from further interruption as Giles scrambled to his feet.

“Get to it!” the vamp barked to Freddie, swinging his sword as the demon lunged forward again, its slitted eyes glowing red against the ebony background.  Knew this was too easy, he thought as the adrenaline of the fight began to dictate the fluid movements of his body.  He ducked a powerful fist with a determined smirk.  Couldn’t have the vamps here before sunset so the bitch brings in the back-up.  Should’ve seen that one comin’ a mile away.

When the demon’s fist clouted the side of his head, sending him sprawling sideways with a shower of stars suddenly obscuring his vision, he thought irritably as he shook it off, Should’ve seen that comin’, too.

*************

At least she could still see, even if being forced to stare up at the star-laden sky was all she was limited to.  Being bound and gagged had not been on the books for this plan, and the fact that she could hear the demons Sandrine had brought along as protection until the vampires could show up shuffling around in the distance did little to assuage Buffy’s alerted nerves.

When the dais vibrated beneath her back, she grimaced behind the gag, hands reacting instinctively to loose themselves from their bindings.  OK, she’d been willing to play along with the hogtying when she thought the others would get rid of Sandrine before she’d actually summon Sira.  But, in her experience, earthquakes never announced anything happy and shiny, so the time for pretending was over.  She just had to break free of the ropes, get out, and take her risks in trying to take Sandrine down on her own.

The strain of her biceps was frozen by a scalding hand curled around her wrist, and Buffy turned her head to see Peter’s blistered face peeking over the edge of the platform.  He was kneeling on the ground on the side furthest away from the mambo, with burns scorching his exposed skin from where he’d come through the ring of fire.  Slowly, he lifted a finger to his mouth to indicate she should remain silent, and she rolled her eyes.  Didn’t he see she was gagged?

Through the crackle of the flames, she heard the distant sound of Sandrine’s voice, chanting words in a language she didn’t recognize, and started struggling again.  This time, Peter’s hands came up to help her, working the knots in the rope with surprising ease.  As soon as her wrists were free, Buffy reached up and pulled off the cloth that covered her mouth, exhaling deeply in glorious appreciation of the fresh rush of air to her lungs.

“Your friends wait,” Peter said in a voice only she could hear.  “Directly behind me, there is a clear path out of here.  If you are quick, the demons will not see you before you are free.  Your friends are not that far away.”

“And Spike?” she asked, and then cringed at how selfish that sounded.  “Is he…are Freddie and Clara doing the vodou thing to get Willow back?”

Peter nodded.  “Everyone is doing their share,” he said simply.  “The people you choose to surround yourself with are very brave.  It is my honor to have had this opportunity to help you, Buffy Summers.”

Her muscles tensed to rise from her prone position, but the definitive tone of his voice made her pause.  “That sounds remarkably like a good-bye speech,” she said just as quietly.  “Trust me.  I’ve heard and said more than my share.”

“You need to hurry,” he said, ignoring her accusation.

“You mean we need to hurry.”

Peter’s eyes were fathomless as he stared back at her, unblinking and inky in his solemnity.  “Someone must stay or the mambo will be alerted to our presence,” he explained.

Her eyebrows quirked.  “Oh, and the fact that her sacrifice has morphed from a petite, blonde, white girl into a seven-foot, bald black man won’t be obvious at all.  Something tells me she’s a little smarter than that.”

“The flames obscure enough.  As long as she can see a body, she will not question it.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” she argued.

“You do not have a choice.”  With a liquid grace, he yanked her from the dais, pulling her body beneath his as he rolled sideways onto the surface.  Both his hands shoved her in the direction of the fire, and she stumbled onto the soft ground.  “Go,” he said.  “Time is not currently on our side.  You must make haste.”

Her lips parted to argue, but another rumble shook the earth, sending her hands flying out to steady herself.  By the time she looked back at the dais, Peter had turned away, his eyes closed, and she could see his mouth moving silently.  Praying, she thought as she rose to her feet.  As she bent over and made a dash through the dancing flames, the heat momentarily blinding before the sultry air of the night embraced her on the other side, Buffy added her own to his unspoken words, because even if nobody ever heard them, positive thoughts never hurt.

*************

The words rolled from her tongue, her eyes shut as her face tilted toward the heavens.  Yesssss, Sandrine thought as she felt the electrical power from the staff she held vertically in her right hand resonate through her fingers, binding and tingling and setting the small hairs on her arms on end.  Starting before sunset had been the smartest idea she’d ever had.  By the time Iris arrived with her entourage, Sira would be summoned and firmly under her control.  His power would be hers.  And her enemies, would be his.

Nothing could stop her now.

*************

There weren’t many attacking them, maybe four although it was often hard to tell, but they were strong, and determined, and…

Giles wrinkled his nose as he swung his sword at the nearest’s midsection.  And quite definitely the most foul-smelling creatures he’d encountered since moving to the US, he thought as he risked a moment to wipe away a stream of blood that was trickling in his eye.  An amalgam of scales and orifices oozing various secretions, the demons carried no weapons, choosing instead to fight with the claws they sported as hands.  Their size made them clumsy, and already Spike had skewered one, with a second about to fall under his onslaught.

Behind him, Giles could feel the charge of the spell Freddie was chanting, but the true power emanated from the seer, her focus channeling the young man’s words into the ether, calling forth the djab so that he could return Willow to control of her physical self.  They had been lucky so far.  Not one demon had made it past either him or Spike.  If they could just keep it up long enough, everything would be all right.

He hoped.

“Watch out!”  Spike’s voice sluiced through his momentary distraction, and Giles pivoted in time to evade the crashing forms of the vampire and his prey rolling through the muck.  They ended with Spike on top, and his blade glimmered in the moonlight as he plunged it through the demon’s neck, quelling its growl with a bloody gurgle.

“Two down,” Spike said with a smirk, hopping to his feet, his tennis shoes almost glowing in the dim illumination.  He shouted in protest as Giles shoved him aside, the Watcher thrusting forward to impale the demon that had been about to sink its claws into the vampire’s back.

The older Englishman pulled his sword back with an audible squelch, scowling when a shower of fluids rained upon his trousers.  Turning, he proffered his free hand to Spike, saying, “And one left to go.”

Spike hesitated, his eyes narrowing as they darted from the extended palm to Giles’ face, before his mouth settled into a firm line.  “Right,” he replied, taking the offer with a firm grip and hopping to his feet.  An approaching growl with an accompanying fetid stench caused the two men to circle in unison to face the remaining demon.  “Let’s show this wanker a thing or two about English superiority, Rupert.”

The smile that quirked the Watcher’s lips was unexpected.  “You do realize Buffy would have a few words about either one of us expressing such an opinion, don’t you?” he queried in amusement.

Spike’s foot lashed out, connecting with the approaching demon’s torso and sending him back onto the ground.  “Don’t really see the Slayer around at the moment, do you?” he said with a responding grin.

For the briefest of moments, Giles chuckled.  Maybe having Spike around a bit more might not be such a bad thing after all.

*************

“It’s been more than five minutes!” Xander exploded, his voice a hiss of frustration.  “No more waiting, Tara.  I say, we get in there and we get Buffy out.”

“Too late,” the blonde witch murmured. 

Her eyes were fixed over his shoulder, and Xander frowned at being so obviously discounted.  “It’s not too late,” he argued.  “Buffy needs---.”

“Buffy needs what?”

He whirled at the sound of the Slayer’s voice, and nearly collapsed in relief when he saw her tiny form standing in front of him, eyes wide as they looked around her friend.  “Nothing, obviously,” he said.  Without even realizing what he was doing, he dropped his weapon to scoop her into a bear hug, hugging her tightly before setting her back down on the ground.  It was only then that he realized she was alone, and his smile faded.  “Where’d tall, dark, and scary get to?” he asked.  “He did find you…right?”

A shadow passed over Buffy’s face.  “Where are Spike and the others?” she asked, ignoring his question.  “They didn’t have any problems getting Freddie and Clara set up to up to vodou Willow out, did they?”

Tara shook her head.  “We split up when we realized Sandrine was already here.  Do you know what those tremors were a minute ago?”

“Patience isn’t one of Sandrine’s better virtues.  I think she’s starting the party early.”  Buffy turned back to face the direction from which she’d come.  “We need to get back there before she gets any further.”

“But her summoning won’t work now,” Anya said as the trio trailed after the Slayer.  “She doesn’t have a sacrifice for Sira any more.”

“I wish I could say that was true,” Buffy muttered.  Louder, she added, “No going in until I say so.  Sandrine brought guards of the non-vampire variety.”  She took a deep breath.  “Now, let’s go.”

*************

No, no, no, no, no…

Not that chanting denial inside what remained of her consciousness was going to do any good, but as she felt the power course through the body she was being forced to share, Willow’s sense of helplessness could find no other outlet.  It was happening, and the hairs on her neck were prickling from the energy created by the voix mortelle, the skull perched on its end glowing.

If it opens its mouth and screams, I swear I’m going to officially wig.

Slowly, Sandrine opened her eyes, and Willow found herself staring up into the sky, clouds rolling and forming directly over her head.  The mambo was smiling, the beginning of a laugh creeping into her throat, and with a definitive thrust, lifted the staff to point directly at the dark grey cumulus.

The earth shook again, but Sandrine retained her balance, watching as the magical power she’d been generating with the staff leapt from the skull’s eyes to pierce the cloud with a brilliant flash.  A clap that resided somewhere between a screech and a boom cleaved the air, reverberating against her eardrums with a force that made her spine pulse, and the trembling in the ground grew.

Oh, sweet Hecate, here it comes…

It was with great reluctance Willow allowed herself to follow the mambo’s gaze as it lowered to the dais in the distance.  The fire was high, much higher than when they’d started, and it distorted the shape of Buffy’s body that could barely be discerned through the flames, making it appear longer and darker than she knew could be possible.  She knew from Sandrine’s thoughts that Sira wouldn’t be under her control until he accepted her sacrifice, but judging from the fissures that were already starting to form in the earth around them, it wouldn’t be that long now before he showed up.

It was then that she caught the flash of movement in the far edge of the clearing, sinking into the other woman’s confusion as she slowly stepped to the side in order to see more clearly.  Her eyes narrowed, and then widened as Buffy stepped from the trees, Tara directly behind her.

“No,” Sandrine hissed, her head whipping around to look at the dais again.  That was unmistakably a body that was resting there, but who it could be, neither woman knew.

Willow’s flash of excitement at seeing both her best friend and Tara, armed and ready for action, dissipated almost as quickly as it arose when she felt the rising anger inside her throat.  Panic made her freeze, and as the magic still thrummed in her body from the summoning, she could feel Sandrine pulling it forward, focusing it on her fury, her free hand extending and pointing at Tara---.

Noooooo!!!!!

*************

Not possible, Sandrine thought angrily, as her eyes fixated on the two blondes across the clearing.  The Slayer and the little witch’s lover.  There was no way they could be here; Buffy should still be on the dais and Tara wasn’t supposed to even know the summoning was happening tonight.

Yet, there they were.  And Sandrine wanted nothing more than to get rid of them, and everything they represented, once and for all.

As the power bubbled and scalded beneath her skin, her hand came up, ready for the fire to erupt and eradicate the blights from her plan.  Determined glee spread her lips into a vicious smile, and her eyes glittered in anticipation of seeing them burn.

The scream exploded inside her skull, bouncing and blinding and making her flesh seethe in pain.  Sandrine echoed its cry, the voix mortelle slipping from her grasp as her hands came up to clutch her head.  For the first time, her balance faltered, and the redhead dropped to her knees as she vomited into the earth.

Behind her lids squeezed tightly shut, her eyes seared as the pain receded.  What the hell…? she thought raggedly.  If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought it was her own voice inside her mind, but then that wasn’t…

And the possibility of what it could be iced the ache, steeling her limbs as her fingers clawed into the dirt.

No.

The little witch was gone.

It couldn’t be her.

…Could it?

*************

The shriek that came from Sandrine’s lips reached them across the clearing, sending shivers down Buffy’s spine and compelling Tara instinctively forward.  Only the Slayer’s arm held her back, stopping the witch from rushing to her lover’s side, and she turned wide, anguished eyes to the smaller woman.

“What h-h-happened?” Tara asked.

“I don’t know.”  Buffy’s gaze was riveted on the writhing redhead in the distance.  The scream had sounded bestial, wracked in pain, and the fact that she was now getting sick didn’t bode well.  Is this what happens when Willow comes back? she wondered.  Briefly, she noticed the struggle the demons guarding the clearing were having with the tremors that were splitting the earth, and saw at least one fall into a chasm as it opened beneath him.  “Give me the gris gris,” she ordered quickly, and held out her hand.

Tara slipped it from her neck and passed it over.  “What are you going to do?”

“If that’s not Willow yet, I want to be there when it is.  Iris and her crew haven’t shown yet, so we’ve only to got to deal with the scaled ones here and the tremors.”  She turned back to look at Xander and Anya coming up behind them.  “Stay in the trees,” she instructed.  “And be careful of the cracks.  If you have to, climb a tree or something.  Just don’t fall into anything.”

And with that, she took off in a dead run for the other side of the clearing.

*************

The tremors were getting stronger, and not twenty feet away, Spike saw the beginning of a split in the muck, the ground opening as if to relinquish the last of its treasures.  “Shit,” he muttered, frowning as he took a step closer to it.  There weren’t any more demons to be threatened by, but Freddie and Clara were still at it behind him, his voice low and clear in spite of the hum that seemed to fill the air.

Where the vampire was staring at the ground, Giles’ gaze was trained on the sky, watching the hole that had formed in the clouds fill with a dazzling silvery light.  “Damn it,” Giles muttered.

Two sets of blue eyes met.  “We didn’t make it, did we?” Spike asked unnecessarily.

“I’m afraid not.”  He glanced back at the pair on the ground before looking off into the distance.  “Can you find Buffy?” he quizzed.

Spike inhaled deeply, and then nodded.

“Go to her.  If Sira arrives, she’s going to need as much help as she can get.”

“What about the mojo makers?”  He gestured toward the display between Freddie and Clara.

“They’re almost done.  There shouldn’t be any more threats from those demons.  I’ll get them back to the car as soon as they tell me it’s time.”  He watched as the vampire turned and began to run into the inky darkness.  “And watch out for those fissures!” Giles called out after him.

*************

She almost didn’t make it when a crack opened in front of her, sending the Slayer in a rolling leap to its other side in order to avoid falling in.  When she came to her feet, Buffy realized she was only a few feet away from Sandrine now, and that the redhead’s shriek had finally died away.

“What have you done?” Sandrine rasped, sweat from the fire and her pain gluing single strands of hair to her cheeks.

“Me?”  Buffy asked innocently.  She cocked her head as she looked down at the other woman.  “You’re the one with the pointy stick this time.”  They both looked down at the voix mortelle that rested on the ground between them.  “If you’ve got a problem with the weather, maybe you shouldn’t have done your little raindance.”  Behind her, the Slayer could hear the crackling of the fire burn higher, the occasional spark electrifying her skin when it escaped and landed on her.  I sincerely hope Peter’s making a run for it, she thought grimly.  Because I’m just a little too busy at the moment to go lend an extra hand there.

“She’s in…my head.”  Sandrine winced, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before returning to glare at the blonde.  “How did you do it?” she asked again.

“I assume you’re talking about Willow.”  Slowly, she took a step forward.  “I hate to break it to you, but you never really got rid of her.  Willow’s been in the back seat all along.  And in just a few minutes, she’s going to be in the driving seat.  It’s over, Sandrine.”

“No.  I refuse to believe that.”  Her hands came up before Buffy could jump out of her way, but the magic died in a spray of sparks as soon as it reached the gris gris, scattering around the Slayer’s feet to sink into the mud.

“I don’t know why.  Who do you think let Spike go?  Did you really think I could’ve found him so fast?  I mean, I’m flattered and all, but c’mon, think about it.  Would I have helped him escape without at least taking his clothes along?  Have you seen how sexy he is in that coat?”  Another step, another few inches closer to the staff.  “It was all Willow.  She’s the one who confirmed for us that Freddie would help us.  She’s the one who got rid of your spell so that Spike could get away.  And she’s the reason you’re going to lose.”  Another step, but this time, Sandrine’s hand shot out to curl around the slim shaft.

A fresh quake sent both women sprawling, forcing the mambo to release her grip on the voix mortelle.  As Buffy scrambled for purchase, she felt suddenly weightless, as if she was floating on a bed of air, and realized with a split second to spare that the earth was crumbling around her.  She launched herself upward, using the loosening ground for whatever leverage it would provide, twisting her body to angle it away from the chasm that was spreading where she had been.

Rolling to safety, she looked up in time to see the staff disappear into the hole, and Sandrine scampering as close as she could to its edge, a look of horror on her face.  “No!” the redhead screamed in frustration.  But the cry immediately turned into one of pain, Sandrine’s body whipping backward as her eyes rolled back into her head. 

Buffy was at her side as quickly as she could leap the fissure, her fingers pushing back the damp hair that clung to her neck to settle on the hollow at its base.

Her breathing was rasping, her pulse even more erratic, and as the Slayer knelt there, the throbbing eased, softening as it slowed, until finally…it disappeared.

“No…” Buffy murmured in shock, as she stared down at her pale friend.

*************

He knelt over the young man’s unconscious body, able fingers pressing lightly into his wrist.  “It’s faint, but it’s there,” Giles said as he felt the thready pulse at his fingertips. 

“I believe I told you that already,” Clara said nonchalantly.

Glancing away from Freddie’s pale face, the Watcher saw her picking up the various items from the ground, tucking them away into her bag as if the earth wasn’t shaking beneath her seat.  “Pardon me for being concerned when a young man collapses into my lap,” he commented dryly.  “I suppose no matter how many potential apocalypses I may help avert, I’ll just never be comfortable bearing witness to one of my allies’ possible death.”

She dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand.  “The boy was never in any risk of dying,” she said.  “And you really need to relax.  We’re on the same side here, remember?  I wouldn’t have helped if I didn’t think I could do some good.”

“Well, you certainly weren’t recruited for your bedside manner,” he muttered as he worked at loosening Freddie’s shirt.  Perhaps a bit of fresh air would be enough to revive him.

Clara smiled.  “One of the benefits to having some clue as to what’s coming, I guess.  If I don’t seem concerned, it’s because I know what’s goin’ to be, is already been.  Nothing you or me can do at this point can change the tracks, Mr. Giles.  We might as well just sit back and enjoy the ride.”  As if to emphasize her point, the ground quaked beneath them, driving Giles to his knees in order to steady himself.

“My apologies if I’m not the sort to just ‘sit back,’” he barked at her.  His temper was short.  He’d watched Freddie get inhabited by the djab, then collapse into unconsciousness, lying there looking very much dead in spite of the contrasting argument of his heartbeat.  In the distance, he could hear the rumblings of what he was convinced could only be Sira, he had no idea if Buffy was safe, and here was Clara trying to tell him to essentially take it easy?  Perhaps he should’ve gone instead of Spike.  At least then, he wouldn’t have to worry about---.

“Your Slayer is safe, dearie,” she said softly, as if she was reading his thoughts.

His head jerked up.  “Then she stopped the summoning.”  He was about to exhale in relief when she shook her head.

“Sira’s already risen.”  Her eyes were enigmatic, shining back the glints of moonlight that managed to break through the clouds, the faintest hint of a smile curling her lips.  “Or did you think the ground splitting around us was the latest in horticultural experimenting?”

“So Spike got to her in time?”

“No, Peter did.”  Clara lumbered to her feet.  “There’s more at work here than you truly understand, Mr. Giles.  And not that I’m the type to be tellin’ people what they should do, but perhaps your energies might be better served in getting our young friend here back to the car instead of fussing about issues that’ll be resolved before you can even reach them.”

Before he could respond, his attention was diverted by Freddie’s groan of pain, a shaky hand reaching up to the young man’s forehead as if to stave away the pain.  “Sometimes, I really hate this vodou stuff,” he muttered as he struggled to push himself upright.

“Do be still,” Giles instructed.  He rolled his eyes when the ground refused to cooperate and rumbled again, pitching him against Freddie’s legs and knocking them both in a tangle of limbs to the side.

“Tell that to the ground,” Freddie said, and then frowned.  “And why’s this still all goin’ on?  Willow should be back now, right?”

“You tell me,” the Englishman muttered.  Scooping beneath the other man’s arms, he pulled him vertical as Giles managed to stand.  “But do so back at the car.”  He cast a glance sideways at a waiting Clara.  “Our work is done here.”  Silently, he added the prayed codicil, Let’s hope so at least, before pulling him away in the direction of the Desoto.

*************

Xander frowned at the flash of white that appeared below him.  “Spike?” he asked in a forced whisper.

The white expanded to include the pale expanse of the vampire’s frowning face as he peered upward.  “Harris?” he quizzed back.  One brow lifted in immediate amusement.  “Up a tree, huh?  Should’ve seen that one comin’.”

“Buffy told us to wait here---.”

Mention of the Slayer’s name jerked Spike’s head back around again, peering into the clearing before him.  “She’s safe then?”

“Safe as she can be considering we’ve got the towering inferno out there,” Xander replied.

“What about Red?”

“Sh-sh-she’s in there, too.”  When Spike’s gaze swiveled to see Tara peering down at him from a distant tree, she smiled in acknowledgement, though her eyes were haunted.  “She tried attacking us, b-b-but something happened to stop her.”

The vampire nodded.  “You lot stay put,” he ordered as he resumed his course for the clearing.  “If Buffy wants you out of the way, then there must be a reason for it.”

He was gone before Xander could respond, and the brunette scowled as he squinted through the branches and watched him disappear into the night.  “Not that I’m hopping to be Sandrine’s next little mister matchstick,” he said, “but how come Spike’s the one who’s jumping into the fray down there and we’re scoping out the perfect treehouse spots up here?”

“Well,” said Anya from the branch behind him.  “He’s got vampire speed, vampire strength, not to mention it looks like he found Buffy without breaking a sweat.  Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

“Right.”  As he shifted his weight to try and look into the distance, a spray of leaves fluttered to the damp ground beneath him.  “Why does that still not make me feel better about this?”

*************

No, Buffy thought in desperation as she pulled Willow’s lifeless form away from the opening crevasse.  I did not come this far just to lose her now.  Her heels scrabbled against the loose earth, the smoke in the air clogging her lungs, but the only thing that mattered to the Slayer then was what she was going to do to get her best friend breathing again.

Once Willow was stretched out onto a relatively flat piece of earth, Buffy pushed back the hair that was matted to her face by sweat, revealing the pale cheeks.  One hand slid behind her neck as she tilted her head up, but as she leaned over to begin mouth-to-mouth, a shudder convulsed the redhead’s frame, accompanied by a piercing scream that split the air.

The Slayer jumped back, landing on her bottom as she watched Willow bolt upward, green eyes huge and staring up into the clouded sky.  As her cry faded, her breathing became a little more labored, her chest heaving as she seemed to struggle to regain her composure.  Seconds passed, until slowly, Willow’s head turned to look over at the blonde.

“Buffy?”

She didn’t need Spike around this time to know who this was.  With a puff of relief, she launched herself forward to snatch her friend up in a huge hug, relief and gratitude combining in a wrenched sob from her lungs.

Feebly, Willow’s hands came up to pat Buffy on the back, but her gasping for air quickly made it clear that the Slayer was holding her too tightly.  She was smiling when they parted, though, the color very slowly returning to her cheeks.  “Next time you hear me complain about not being more assertive,” she commented, “you have my permission to just slap me.”

“Come on,” Buffy said, jumping to her feet and holding out her hand to offer assistance to the other young woman.  “We have to get out of this place before it falls apart around us.”

“We can’t,” Willow said, though she scrambled to her feet anyway.  “Can’t you tell?  She did it.  She summoned Sira.”

“Crap.”  Her gaze narrowed as she turned to scan the clearing, the smoke burning her eyes, obscuring more and more of the terrain.  Most of the demons were now gone, either fled or fallen, and it appeared that the tremors quaking the earth were finally starting to abate.  The ground still shook, though, and when she felt Willow’s hand grab her arm, turning her slightly so that she looked at the edge of the trees behind him, Buffy’s insides froze.

Calling it a serpent demon wasn’t entirely accurate, she decided.  Oh sure, it was scaled, with a flat hooded head rising from its snake-like body.  But serpents didn’t have arms, and they sure as hell didn’t have long, razor-sharp claws at the end of those arms.  And the whole rising up on back legs to stand taller than the trees themselves?  That sure as hell didn’t scream out, “I’m a serpent, look at me,” to Buffy at all.

“OK,” Willow breathed next to her.  “Who’s thinking the Mayor wasn’t the biggest asp in the garden right about now?”

Silently, Buffy agreed.  “How’re we supposed to kill that?” she mused out loud, and glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye.  “You couldn’t have come back just a few minutes earlier?”

“Don’t look at me,” the redhead replied.  “I’m assuming your beef is with Freddie for dragging his feet on the vodou end.”

She didn’t get a chance to respond.  Where for a moment, the world had stilled to an unearthly silence around them, now it erupted into a shuddering screech as Sira launched himself through the air, flying over the heads of the two girls, driving them to automatically duck even though it was more than fifteen feet above them.  Buffy whipped around to see it land on the inner circle of the fire that ringed the dais upon which she’d spent most of the night strapped, and felt her stomach drop.

Peter’s unmoving body still lay there.  Waiting.

She was already running when Sira swooped in, knees pumping as she cleared the nearest of the cracks.  Not that she really thought she could make better time than a six-story snake who looked like he could fly, but she had to try.  That was the least she could do.

She wasn’t expecting the hard body to tackle her from the side, sending them both rolling too near the edge of one of the crevices.  Her body twisted from the tight muscles, but she stayed her punch when she saw the familiar platinum head bob up.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?” Spike demanded.

“It’s good to see you, too,” she retorted.  She leapt to her feet, dusting off her bottom as she turned to see Sira scoop up Peter’s body in the claws it sported as hands.  “Oh, fuck,” she muttered, watching the black man’s body disappear down the serpent’s gullet.

Spike squinted through the flames.  “Not that it makes a lick of difference now,” he said, “but just who were we serving up for dinner tonight?”

“That would’ve been Peter.”  She didn’t get it.  He could’ve run at any point, and yet, he’d stayed within the fire.  Almost as if he’d been waiting for Sira to show up.  But why?  It didn’t make any sense.

Until it stepped through the fire and rose up onto its haunches, looking directly over the two blonds heads to Willow behind them.

“Mistresssss…” Sira hissed.  “I await your command.”

*************

As soon as he saw the serpent demon in the clearing, Xander was grateful for having been ordered to stay behind.  “You didn’t tell us that it was that big,” he complained to Anya.

“You saw the Mayor,” she countered.  “How big did you think it was going to be?”

“If I never see another snake,” he started, and then stopped when a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.  Pressing his body into the branch, Xander inched himself out further along its length, his weapon running down the length of his leg as he tried to maintain his balance.

“What’re you doing?” Anya asked.

He didn’t respond.  Instead, his brown eyes bored through the darkness, watching the shadows emerge from the foliage in the distance.  The pale gleam of moonlight scattering from undead skin made his blood run cold, and he hesitated for only a moment before rolling from his perch to land with a squelch to the mire below.

“What’re you doing?” Anya repeated, her voice higher, more insistent.  She scowled as he began to walk toward the clearing.  “Both Buffy and Spike told us to stay here.”

“That was before they knew we were going to have more company,” he replied, and pointed.  “Iris and her vampire crew at two o’clock.”

*************

Willow’s eyes widened as Sira rose to its full height in front of her.  For the briefest of moments, she almost wished that Sandrine was back in control; she had no doubts that the other woman would know exactly what to do at the moment.  She only had one idea, but somehow she doubted asking the demon to throw itself on the fire and self-immolate so that the rest of them could escape without any more fanfare would go over very well.

“Mistressss…” it repeated, and she was transfixed as it took a step closer to her.

“Hi,” she replied feebly, giving it a little wag of her fingers.  “Have a nice trip?”

Sira ignored her flippancy.  “What is my mistress’ command?” it asked.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Buffy and Spike---Spike?  When did he get here?---begin to skirt around the edge of the clearing, weapons drawn as their gazes were locked on the serpent gliding through the flames.  They were at just as much of a loss as she was, and though she could see that they were both ready to attack should the need arise, it was also obvious they were hoping they really wouldn’t have to fight something quite so large.

Think, think, she ordered herself.  But her mind came up blank, her nerves skittering across her skin as Sira oozed even closer.

A cool hand came down upon her shoulder, and Willow shrieked in fright, whirling to see Iris standing just behind her.  Her eyes glowed golden in the dancing light, and she growled in disappointment at the smaller woman’s reaction.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of it now that we’ve got him,” the vampire chastised.

It was then that she realized one element of power she still held.  As far as Sira and Iris were concerned, she was still Sandrine.  The one who commanded the serpent demon to do whatever it asked of her.  The one who had the blonde vampire sufficiently cowed in order not to cross her.  That could still work in her favor.

“Back off,” Willow said as harshly as she could manage, quelling the tremor in her voice as she took a step away.  She held up her hands as if to begin a spell in Iris’ direction, and felt an inner flush of power when the other woman instinctively retreated.  “There is no we, Iris,” she continued.  “I’m the one who masters Sira.  Don’t ever forget that.”

“You can’t control him if you’re dead,” Iris countered, her voice cool even if fear played across her face.  She lifted her hand as if to wave at someone behind her, and Willow saw the sets of amber-colored eyes come gleaming out of the darkness.

“What’re you doing?” she demanded, and felt the magic boil within her hands, the sparks fly between her fingers.  Good golly Miss Molly, she thought.  I guess there’s a little more of Sandrine left in me than I realized.

Though Iris took another step away, she remained unflappable.  “Something I should’ve done ages ago,” she said.

Willow’s hands swept in a circle around the two women, encasing them in a ring of fire that separated them from the approaching demons. “Sira!” she shouted out as her gaze lifted to stare up at the serpent.  The decision on what to do just got made a whole lot easier, she thought. “Kill all the vampires!”

*************

Buffy sensed the additional presences first, and turned just in time to avoid the assault from a pair of Iris’ minions.  They went soaring through the air over her head, but by the time she’d turned to face them, Spike had already tossed one onto the bonfire behind him, grinning in delight when it burst into flame with a pained scream, and was fighting it out with the remainder of the pair.

Willow’s command reached her ears, but the momentary satisfaction she felt at the unseen back-up was quickly replaced by grim determination when yet more of the vampires rushed to attack.  A roundhouse kick cleared those nearest to her, and she swung the sword in her hands to decapitate the first of the wave that followed. 

We can’t keep this up for very long, she thought.  They were far too outnumbered, and though Sira was dispatching the vampires in droves, there were too many of them pouring in through the trees, replenishing the numbers almost as quickly as she and the others fought to keep them down.  Geez, did she recruit every vampire in New Orleans?

At the edge of the clearing, she saw Xander and the others emerge with their weapons drawn, focusing on a single vampire at a time in an attempt to help with the fight.  It distracted her for a fraction of a second too long, though, and she screamed out loud, more in frustration than the actual pain, when a Neanderthal vamp tackled her around the waist, sending both of them into the mud and rolling dangerously close to one of the chasms that split the earth.

Its growls were too near her ear, and instinctively, Buffy threw her head back, feeling it connect with its jaw and loosening its grip.  It wasn’t enough to get it off, though, and he sank his fangs into her shoulder, biting down into the sinew with a ferocity that made her eyes water.

The scream of anger shot through the air, and almost as quickly as it had settled there, the weight above the Slayer disappeared, allowing her to roll away from the threat and to see a demon-faced Spike throwing the offending vampire onto the pyre behind him.  Blood mottled his face, dripping from a deep gash along his brow, but before she could say anything, he had dropped to her side, cool hands tearing the fabric away from her neck to expose the mark on her shoulder.

“I did not come all this way just to see you get taken out by a two-bit vamp with a Frankenstein complex,” he growled, pressing his hands into the wound to staunch the flow of blood.

She grinned, in spite of the glower that furrowed the ridges in his brow.  “Love you, too, Spike,” she said.  She grimaced when she tried to sit up, though, the pain shooting down her arm.

“Stop your bloody moving,” he ordered, but his secret pleasure at hearing her say the words softened his tone.  Quickly, he risked a look around, noting the vampires that were still trying to reach them and the relative calm that surrounded Willow and Iris.  He frowned.  “At least we don’t have to worry about Red,” he commented, and then lashed out with a heel when an approaching demon got too close, sending it flying backwards, straight into Sira’s claws.  “She’s the eye of the storm, it looks like.”

“Score one for our side,” Buffy quipped.  Pushing his hands away, she struggled to her feet, ignoring the ache that remained in her shoulder, the sticky feel of her blood running down her back.  “Now if we could only do something about Godzilla over there---.”

Her words were cut off as she was engaged in another battle, pulling away from Spike to face the aging brunette who’d sucker-punched her side.  That left the bleached demon to turn toward his own fight, but this time, the attacker that faced him towered in glowing scales for yards above him.

*************

Fuck, he thought as he stared up at Sira.  Not that he hadn’t ever wished he was just a couple inches taller on the odd occasion, but somehow, up to this point, he’d never truly felt insignificant in stature.  Funny how looking down the wrong end of a snake demon as big as a redwood made one re-evaluate those kind of things.

A snap of Sira’s claws sent Spike sprawling to the left in order to avoid being sliced in two.  By the time he’d rolled onto his back, another claw had come down, narrowly missing skewering his thigh, and he flipped himself backward, over the chasm behind him, in order to gain a little more distance from the demon.

Clearly, he was the next target, though why Sira was choosing to focus on him, Spike had no idea.  It was then he remembered Willow’s words, the command to kill all the vampires.  Aw, Red, he thought with a scowl as he danced away from another swipe of those deadly pincers.  You couldn’t have been a little more specific and excluded me from the body count?

That thought was all it took for the solution to present itself.

Well, really, remind him of its presence.  Because he’d had the solution to his own safety all along.

Red.  Safe and secure from Sira.

Though his foot slid in the mire when he twisted his body away from the latest sweep, Spike was off and running, leaping the splits in the earth that stood in his way.  At his back, he heard Sira’s frustrated growl turn into a scream when he saw where the vampire was going.

Can’t bloody well stop now.

Not leaving Buffy behind to face this thing alone.

The shock that gleamed across Willow’s face was lost when Spike dove through the flames to tackle her head on, enclosing her in his embrace as he twisted her around to put her body between his and the approaching serpent.  Immediately, Sira froze, its head rearing back as it gazed down at the pair on the ground.

“Don’t.  Move,” Spike hissed in Willow’s ear.

She obeyed without question.  Slowly, he eased his body backward, struggling to a sitting position with the redhead resting firmly between his legs, her back pinioned to his chest.  He nearly growled when he saw Iris approach to their side.

“Are you crazy?” the female vamp said in amazement.  She folded her arms across her chest.  “You’re ten times more powerful than Spike.  Just set him on fire and be done with it.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance.  What he wouldn’t give to just shut Iris up permanently for a change.

Apparently, Willow had the same idea.

“I think you’ve just outlasted your usefulness, Iris,” she said coldly, and looked directly into the serpent’s eyes.  “Kill her, Sira.”

She never had a chance to even move.  Before Spike could blink, the towering demon had lowered its nearest claw, its pincer slicing cleanly through the vampire’s neck to send a shower of dust raining down into his and Willow’s faces.

“About bloody time,” he muttered as the redhead began sneezing convulsively against him.

Sira’s head swiveled back to stare down at them, slitted eyes darting back and forth between its mistress and the demon of the sort she had ordered him to kill.  Around the clearing, the other vampires were starting to retreat, the death of their leader instilling the fear of failure into them.

“Tell him to leave me be,” Spike said, not bother to keep his voice low any more as he pulled the pair of them to their feet.

Willow did as he instructed, holding up her hand to bar Sira back.  With the immediate threat of the vampires diminishing, and Iris no longer a menace, the world of the swamp seemed to be at a stalemate as Buffy and the others slowly advanced upon them.

“Well…now what?” the redhead asked when they were all together.  Though she was fairly certain it wouldn’t do anything without her express order, she didn’t dare tear her eyes away from the demon before her.

The sound of clapping behind them was the first response to her question and slowly, everyone but Willow turned to see D’Hoffryn standing at the edge of the clearing.  “Excellent show,” he praised as he advanced upon the group.  “Thank you so much for sending Halfrek with the invitation.”

“You couldn’t have shown up a little bit earlier and given us a hand?” Buffy asked dryly.

“Oh, but I’ve been here all along,” he replied.  “Well, since Sira showed up, at least.  I just didn’t want to get in the way of all the lovely bloodshed.”  His eyes turned to Willow.  “I always knew you had it in you, my dear Miss Rosenberg.  You truly are a marvel.”

“Kinda busy here, D’Hoffryn,” Willow said, keeping her voice low and even so that she wouldn’t upset the serpent.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed.  “So, if you’ve got something to say---not that we’re really all that interested right now anyway seeing as you didn’t even pitch in with the fight---I suggest you come out and say it.”

“But I thought you knew already.”  His gaze returned to the Slayer, his head held high.  “I’ve come to fetch my voix mortelle.”

*************

Buffy stared at D’Hoffryn in disbelief.  “You’re kidding me, right?” she said, folding her arms across her chest.  “You really expect to come waltzing in here after we’ve done all the dirty work, and just walk away with your little staff thingie?  I think my mom would have something to say about a day shy and a dollar late here.”

“Uh, Slayer, that would be a day late and---.”  The look she shot Spike glinted with her best now-is-not-the-time-to-mess-with-me anger, and he pressed his lips together in proper rebuke, turning to face the other demon instead.  “Right.  You heard the lady.  Bugger off.”

“Not without the voix mortelle,” D’Hoffryn said evenly.  “And it is mine.  Even the Slayer believes so, otherwise she wouldn’t have referred to it as ‘your little staff thingie.’”  He shook his head in mock dismay.  “Really, the way you slaughter the English language?  I’d say your tongue is almost as good a weapon as your tiny little fists.”

The step she took forward was instinctual, but Buffy was stopped by Anya’s hand curled around her elbow.

“Suicide,” the ex-demon said when the Slayer glanced back at her.  “Head honcho, remember?  Don’t even look at him cross-eyed, or he’ll cross your eyes, if you know what I mean.”

With a sigh, Buffy turned back to face D’Hoffryn, but she uncurled her fists as she did so, attempting with the tiny gesture to show her willingness to talk.  Or rather, her unwillingness to die because as much as she hated to admit it, Anya had a point.  He was too powerful for her to fight without some serious magic behind her, and she doubted he’d let her get within ten feet without resorting to his own mojo.  She had to play this one smart.

“Uh…Buffy?”  Willow’s voice was almost a squeak behind her.  “Not to be Little Miss Naggy Pants here, but...are we planning on doing anything about Sira?  You know, before he decides he’d rather eat me than listen to me.”

“Tick tock, Ms. Summers.”  D’Hoffryn was sounding far too gleeful about the whole situation, and she exhaled loudly in frustration as she inched herself back toward her friends.  “Not that this hasn’t been a most delightful evening, but I have places to go, people to torture.”

“Looks like this isn’t your lucky night then,” she replied.  “Because we don’t have the staff.”

For the first time, he faltered, his smile fading.  “It’s not nice to lie to me.  You have Sira, ergo, you have the staff.”

“Had.  Past tense.”

“You lost it?”

“More like…dropped it.”  She gestured toward one of the many fissures that now littered the landscape.  “In one of those.  I guess Mother Nature got a little hungry.”

“That’s not helpful, Buffy.”  This was from Anya, and it took all the Slayer’s willpower not to roll her eyes. 

“Helpful has nothing to do with it,” she replied tightly.  “It’s the truth.  Go ahead, D’Hoffryn.  Look around all you want.  You can seek, but you ain’t gonna find.  And if you don’t believe me, just think about it rationally for a second.  Would I be standing here with a six-story snake breathing down my neck if I had some way of getting rid of it for good?”

He paused, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words, scrutinizing her calm face.  She was lying through her teeth, but there was no way she could let him catch on to that.  Buffy knew exactly which one of the cracks the voix mortelle had slipped into; she just didn’t want the horned demon to start searching in case he accidentally found it.  She wasn’t really in the mood to be arm wrestling with him over a stupid stick at this point in the game.

“I must say,” he finally commented, “if this is the way you run your Hellmouth, it’s really no wonder you have an apocalypse on your hands every year or so.”  He shrugged.  “Ah, well, I can’t say it hasn’t been fun.  Between Anyanka’s unsuspected loyalties and your penchant for falling in love with vampires, you’ve certainly kept me on my toes.  It’s been…amusing, if not actually rewarding.”

“So sorry to disappoint.  Oh, wait.  No, I’m not.  You haven’t exactly been the most forthcoming in helping us out here, so me with the guilt?”  Buffy shook her head.  “Not so much.”

D’Hoffryn chuckled.  “Quippy to the end.  Will wonders never cease.”  The nod of farewell he gave them encompassed the entire group.  “I’m sure our paths will cross again,” he said, and with a flash, disappeared from the swamp.

Anya was the first to break the ensuing silence with a relieved sigh.  “I am so glad he was in a good mood,” she said.  “I was really not looking forward to picking out all your entrails from my hair.”

“And your entrails would’ve been saved because…?” Willow couldn’t help but ask, her eyes wide.

“Because D’Hoffryn likes me,” Anya replied.  “I would’ve been spared.”

“Oh, spare me,” the redhead muttered.

“Willow.”  Xander’s voice caught all their attention.  “A little slack here?  Anya put herself out on a limb to help us get you back.  Maybe we can play nice-nice for a little bit, OK?”

Nobody was more shocked at his unexpected support than his girlfriend, and her face quickly creased into a wide smile.  “Thank you, Xander,” she said.

He turned a warning finger toward her.  “And Ahn, you might want to be a little more wary of the witch with the giant snake demon at her disposal,” he said.  “Remember that thing called tact we talked about?  Now’s probably a really good time to start practicing it.”

“Point taken,” she said with a satisfied nod.

“Much as I like all the entrail talk,” Spike said, “there’s still the small matter of a looming serpent of death here for us to settle.”

“Ixnay on the eathday, Spike,” Willow said.  Her eyes were still glued to Sira, and her tone remained even, but the beads of sweat were already forming on her brow.  “Even if I do agree with you.  Anyone?  I’m open to suggestions here.”

“Didn’t we already meet our lifetime quota for really big snakes?” Anya asked.

“Considering it took blowing up the high school to get rid of the Mayor and we seem clean out of TNT, I’m fresh out of ideas,” Xander said.

“I’m not.”  Keeping a wary eye on the serpent, Buffy stepped over to the chasm into which the voix mortelle had fallen, daring to get as near to the edge as possible.  Only Spike’s tight grip wrapped around her bicep stopped her from actually leaning to peer inside, and she straightened to look back at him with a frown.

“I’ll go down,” he said.  His tone brooked no argument, his eyes dark as they locked onto hers.  “I can see better in the dark than you, and you need to be up here in case something goes all to cock.”

She nodded.  He was right, as usual.  “Be careful.”

“When I’ve got you to get back to?”  His grin was crooked as his knuckles brushed against the curve of her cheek.  “Always.”

Buffy grabbed his arm before he jumped down into the crevasse.  “And don’t break it,” she instructed.

Spike shrugged.  “It’s your stick,” he conceded, and promptly disappeared into the velvety darkness.

She could see the top of his head glowing---almost radioactively, she thought, suppressing the giggle that rose to her throat---as he landed at the bottom of the hole.  It wasn’t as deep as she’d thought, even if she couldn’t see how far it went, but its contents were a mystery, locked away in the black void as it sucked all the light from the air.  Her muscles were tense, her fingers curling into her palms as she waited, and when Xander stepped almost noiselessly up behind her, Buffy nearly jumped into the hole herself in anxiousness.

“Not that I’m one to be questioning your authority in these matters,” Xander said in a low voice, “but…don’t break it?  Please tell me there’s a good reason for that.”

“Yeah, there is.”  Her eyes never left the chasm.  “We only break it and we’re left with the possibility of all this happening again some time down the line.  I don’t want to have to be worrying about someone scotch taping the staff together again, so we’re going to get rid of it, once and for all.”

“Heads up!”  Spike’s voice was muffled but his intent was clear, and Buffy’s hand shot out automatically when the staff zoomed skyward.

“Got it!”  Grabbing Xander’s arm, she stepped away from the edge, dragging him with her, and watched as Spike leapt up, clearing the chasm to land with a soft thud several feet away.

He had vamped out while down below, but as he turned to look at the Slayer, his amber eyes melted into blue, his brow smoothing even though the mud that streaked his skin remained, mingling with the blood that he’d already shed during the fighting.  His clothes were a mess as well, but the grin he offered her was one of pure, unadulterated glee. 

In spite of herself, Buffy smiled.  It was hard not to be amused at Spike’s childish delight in the joy of the fight.  And the fact that the prowess he’d always exhibited during their own battles was now going to be better put to use?  Just a bonus.

She didn’t wait for any of their questions as she marched closer to the bonfire that still raged around the dais.  Sira’s eyes followed her path, otherwise remaining still, but when she threw the voix mortelle onto the flames, Buffy could’ve sworn she saw the demon smile.  Imagining smiling snake lips, she thought as she turned back in time to watch the serpent disappear with a clap of thunder.  I am one tired Slayer.

“And that’s all she wrote, folks,” she said.  “No more snake to slay, no more vodou to who-do.  Time to pack it up and haul it home.”

*************

Except for the sound of the shower, the cottage was eerily quiet, echoing in hollowness around Buffy’s ears as she slumped against the back of the couch.  Exhausted didn’t even begin to cover how tired she was, but sleep was still out of the question.  Not when she had so much packing yet to do.

The silence grew when even the distant rush of water disappeared, and the Slayer smiled.

And not when she had a certain vampire to thank.

He was humming under his breath when he emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped casually around his waist as rivulets of water dripped down the planes of chest.  Unable to resist turning to look at him, her smile softened when she saw him pause, shake his head to rid the platinum curls of excess water, and then hesitate before disappearing into the bedroom to look back and survey the nearly empty lounge.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Spike said, “but where’d the Brady bunch bugger off to?  Didn’t think we’d be gettin’ a spot of privacy until after Christmas, at this rate.”

“Everybody’s gone,” she explained, and began to tick them off on her fingers.  “Since we don’t really have to worry about Iris any more, the gang’s staying at a hotel tonight before catching their flight back to Sunnydale tomorrow.  Freddie took off for wherever home is once he got a lecture from Giles about doing the right thing.  And Xander drove Clara back to her shop since Peter ended up being toast.”  Her eyes fluttered closed for a second before shooting back up.  “Oh, and Willow told me where I could find your coat.”  She smiled.  “You don’t have to go home without it.”

“Sounds like you’ve got everything covered.”  His step was silent as he crossed the room, dropping to the end of the sofa to take her bare feet into his hands.

She groaned out loud at the delectable pressure of his fingers along her soles, and stretched herself out so that her heels rested against the terry of the towel across his thighs, her eyes dropping closed again as she lost herself in the waves of pleasure emanating from her lower regions.  There was silence for a moment, and then…

“So what time is it you need me droppin’ you off at the airport then?”  Spike’s voice had dropped in timbre, silky and melodic, but its hint of distance drove Buffy’s lids up again, to look at him concentrating on her feet.

“You don’t,” she said softly, and waited until he’d lifted his head, his eyes almost black as they gazed at her.  “I told Giles that I’d be going back with you in the Desoto.  The way I see it, the gang’s kosher with watching the Hellmouth for a few extra days, and I deserve a little vacation.  So I’m going to spend some quality time with my guy.”

His mouth quirked at her last two words, his head ducking almost shyly.  “Don’t have air conditioning, remember,” he said, and she was surprised at how gruff his voice sounded before it dawned on her that he was being oddly moved by what she’d volunteered.

Buffy wriggled her toes against his fingers.  “Still got my sparkly fan?” she asked brightly.

This time, he couldn’t help turning it into a full-blown smile.  “If Tara didn’t nick it,” he replied.

“Then I’m all set.  Got you, got my fan, got a week without having to worry about one of my friends being turned into mincemeat by some snake demon.  What more could I ask for?”

As he continued his massage, water dripped from the ends of Spike’s hair to land in the hollow of her ankle before sliding backward to her heel and soaking into the towel.  “Much as I’d like for you to come with, pet,” he finally said, “maybe you should catch that plane with your friends tomorrow.”

Buffy frowned.  This wasn’t what she’d been expecting.  “Why?”

“It’s just…”  He wasn’t even meeting her eyes, focusing instead on the delicate arch of her instep.  “The trip out wasn’t exactly a picnic for you, and I spent a good part of my dosh here.  Won’t be the most comfy of drives if I’m havin’ to sleep at the side of the road---.”

“Oh, thank god,” she rushed with a breathy exhalation.  Her lips curved as her muscles relaxed back into the cushions.  “For a second there, I thought you were breaking up with me or something.”  She affected a bad impersonation of his accent.  “Thanks for the shag, Slayer.  It’s been bloody memorable.”  With a playful kick, Buffy nudged at his hip.  “Stop playing the noble boyfriend, Spike.  It’s nice, but truly, unnecessary in this case.  When I told Giles what I was doing, he gave me his ATM card.  Money is not an issue.”

That caught his attention.  “Rupert’s financing our trip back?”  His brows shot up.  “Did he fall into one of those holes Sira made and hit his head or something?”

“It’s not like we can go crazy and stay at every five-star hotel we see---.”

Spike snorted.  “Oh, because there’s just so many of those in Bugtussle, Arkansas,” he retorted. 

Buffy ignored him.  “---and he gave me a limit not to go over,” she finished.  “But yeah, Giles seems to be on the side of seeing you and me as something real, and he agrees that me sleeping in the Desoto is not of the good.”  Pulling her feet away, Buffy crawled down the length of the couch to straddle his hips, feeling him nestle comfortably between her thighs.  “And here I thought you’d be hopping with excitement about this,” she said.  She let her fingers trail across his clavicle, catching the tiny dewdrops of water that still clung there before deliberately leaning in to run her tongue along the same line, inhaling the scent of soap and smoke that permeated his flesh.

Spike’s fingers dug into her hips, pulling her infinitesimally closer as he nuzzled the top of her head.  “Guess I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop,” he murmured.  “Just…seems to be too good to be true, you know?  You…me…being my own man again…something’s bound to come along to fuck all this up.  I just know it.”

It almost hurt to pull away, and then to see the uncertainty clouding the brilliance of his eyes… “Don’t,” she said softly.  “Because I love you, and something tells me you might love me---.”

Spike growled at the playful reservation in her words, tugging her against his chest before kissing the hollow of her throat.  “No might in it, pet,” he said into the satin of her skin.  His arms curled around her waist to pull her more tightly against him.  “Love you more than anything.  I just don’t want to lose you.”

“And you’re not.  You won’t.  Even Giles knows that now.”  Her heart was thudding inside her chest, her breathing increasingly labored.  “The past few days have been rough, but it’s all over and now we can just get back to our lives the way we’re supposed to be living them.”

“Waiting for the next apocalypse to poke its ugly mug around?” he joked.

“Exactly,” she replied.  “Just as soon as we get our little crosscountry vacation out of the way.”  Her cheek settled against the groove of his shoulder, nestling there in the perfect matching puzzle piece.  “Think about it.  No Giles complaining about wanting to be blind.  No listening to Willow and Anya bicker about who should have more of Xander’s attention.  No watching Xander try to---.”

“OK, OK, I get the picture.”  He was laughing, his body nearly vibrating beneath her, and she felt his hands come up to stroke her hair.  “So…we’ll leave tomorrow at sundown, right?” he asked.  She nodded.  “Which means we’ve got the rest of tonight and tomorrow to do whatever it is we please…?”

Buffy smiled, but she didn’t pull away, instead letting his wandering hands continue their caresses.  “You have a one-track mind, Spike.”

“Oh, but what wonderful track it is, luv.  All hard and slicked up, just begging to be ridden…”

As his touch followed the tempo of his voice, she let herself drift away on the current of the mood he was creating, her body a heated flush, her head awash in color. Funny how it had taken temporarily losing one of the most important people in her life to discover a new one, and while the prospect of their Big Easy days had made her yearn for easier obstacles, in hindsight, Buffy was grateful for what she’d been given.  She might not have found Spike so deeply rooted in her world without the issues they’d been forced to overcome or address.  And while his love for her certainly grounded her more deeply than anyone else’s had for a very long time, even more importantly…

…it made her feel as if she could fly.

The End

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Well, that’s another one done, folks.  Special thanks to angstchic for the wonderful job beta-ing, and thanks to all those readers and reviewers out there who told me what they thought of the story as it progressed.  Hearing your words of support---especially those of Terri, Char, Andrea, Tammy, and Kallysten---have meant a tremendous amount to me, and I just want you to know that it’s greatly appreciated.  Although BSV is officially complete now, I ended it this way for a reason---I’m planning on writing a couple one-chapter shorts detailing Buffy and Spike’s trip back across the country, but those will be done when I either get inspired or find the time.  They’ll be coming, though.  Of that, you can be sure. :)

PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY:  Spike and Buffy are finally on their way back to Sunnydale…

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  This is the first of a series of shorts detailing our duo’s return to Sunnydale.  Nothing horribly plot-driven, mostly vignettes pulling out specific moments.  This one’s on the fluffy, romantic side, on their first night on the road.  I hope you enjoy. :)

*************

“It’s broken.”

Casting a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, Spike witnessed the requisite pout accompanying Buffy’s scowl as she shook the stationary fan in a futile attempt to get its blades rotating again.  “And usin’ it as a maraca brings the little doohickey back to life, does it?” he teased with a quirk of his brow.  He watched as her lip jutted out farther.  Hell, if they hadn’t only just got back on the road, he’d be on her in a flash, sucking that tender piece of flesh between his teeth like the tasty treat it was.  He shifted imperceptibly in his seat to accommodate his rising erection, and added, “Try flippin’ the switch.”

“Oh, please.  Like I didn’t already try that.” 

Minus the whisper of the tires on the road, the car was silent for a long moment, before Spike heard the unmistakable hollow click of a switch being thrown and then hastily returned to its first position.  He chuckled.  “Should’ve picked yourself up a spare when we filled up the tank,” he said. 

“But it worked then,” Buffy groused, and sighed as she rolled down the window even further, allowing the hot air rushing past to lift the sticky strands of her hair in a flurry.  Though the heat was still stifling, heavy winds rolled over the countryside, stirring the air in a semblance of natural cooling, and the Slayer leaned into the small comfort the breezes were offering.  “What I need right now are Fonzie powers.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“You know, he used to hit stuff to get it to start.”  She brightened, twisting to look at him.  “Oh!  Maybe that could be like a secret Slayer power I don’t know about yet.  Maybe all I have to do is hit it and it’ll work again.”

“Because everything else springs back to the livin’ after it meets the Slayer’s fist.  That makes perfect sense, luv.”

“Party pooper.”  Dropping her head back onto the headrest, she stared at the worn roof for a moment before saying, “I think it’s so hot in this car, my hair is now stuck to the seat.  I.  Am.  Glue girl.”

“If you’re goin’ to whinge until the sun comes up, I’m goin’ to strap you to the bonnet like a hood ornament,” Spike warned good-naturedly.

“Ha.  Like you even could.  I’d have you pinned before you could even get out of the car.”

“Seems to me, I’ve done my fair share of pinning you.  If it wasn’t for your mum’s little ax fetish, you’d’ve been a tasty little morsel for me that night at the high school.  Might find yourself surprised, Slayer.”

“You always surprise me, Spike.”  She flashed him a brilliant smile, her skin gleaming from the slight film of sweat on her cheeks, and the small knot that had been forming in Spike’s stomach eased.  Probably couldn’t hurt to see about upgrading some of the car’s features, he mused, though he imagined it would cost him an arm and a leg to do so.  And if he went to that prat down by Willy’s, that’s probably what he would charge.

Using his left hand to steer, Spike let go with his right to reach over and begin stroking Buffy’s bare thigh, amazed at the heat that was radiating from her flesh.  Hot she might be, but there was something to be said about having his own little furnace sitting just a foot away.  And when she groaned at the cool contact, he let his fingers go higher, running along the inside seam of her shorts to skate closer to the only heat that he was really interested in at the moment.

“Oh,” she moaned, and he was about to start seeking out the sweltering damp of her arousal that he could smell over the sweat when she bolted upright, coming away from the seat with a sticky snap. 

“Oh!” Buffy exclaimed, leaning out her window before snapping back to pick up the atlas and flashlight that rested on the seat beside her.  A piece of paper fluttered to the floor and she snatched it back while trying to balance the map on her knee.

“What is it?”

The beam from the flashlight illuminated the multi-colored page.  “We’re right on schedule,” she announced.  “According to the sign back there, we should’ve passed into DeSoto County a few miles ago.”

“DeSoto Parish, you mean.”

“Huh?”

“They don’t do counties down here.  Not sure why, but Louisiana has parishes, not counties.”

“Oh.  OK.”  There was a beat and then her bright smiled returned.  “You know what being here means, though, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, scowling at the scenery he could see through his windshield.  “It means we’re still in fuckin’ Louisiana.”

“Pull over.”

As she bent over and began rustling in the plastic sack of road trip supplies she’d bought at the gas station, Spike glanced at her as if she’d just told him to stake himself.  “Are you completely off your box?” he demanded.  “We’ve only been back on the road for an hour.  If memory serves, you were the one who was spittin’ nails about takin’ too long to fill up, and now you want to take another pit stop?”

“We took so long because you cornered me in the ladies’ room.”

“No, we took so long because you bought half the bloody store when we were done,” he countered.  “I had that shag perfectly timed to fit in with your little schedule, thank you very much.”  Spike froze when she sat up, a small fluorescent box poised in her hands.  “What.  Is that?”

Buffy looked down at it in confusion.  “It’s a camera.”

“I can see that.  Why do you have one that looks like Disneyland tossed its cookies on it?”

“Well, the way I figured it, we’re on vacation and we should have smiley happy proof of it.  And when I saw this in the display next to the licorice, I couldn’t resist.  So pull over.  I want to take a picture.”

“Of what?  It’s almost midnight and we’re in the armpit of the soddin’ South.  The only pictures you’re goin’ to get are big black smudges of nothin’.”

“Well, I want one of those big black smudges to be of you and the car.”  She turned on her best I-wanna-cookie pout, eyes luminous in the dark.  “Is it so bad I want a picture of my guy?  And c’mon, you gotta admit, the DeSoto in DeSoto Cou---Parish?  It’ll be cute.”

“My car is not cute,” Spike muttered, but felt his resolve fading.  Maybe it was the casual way she bandied around the words my guy, or maybe it was the irresistible force her lower lip exerted on his will, or maybe it was just because of the prospect of knowing he could give her something so simple and she’d bestow upon him that winning smile that made him feel ten feet tall.  Whatever it was, the possibilities of her request tumbled around inside his skull while his foot began to ease up on the gas pedal.

“Make you a deal,” he said, measuring his words carefully.  “I’ll pull over and let you be a little shutterbug, if I get to have a picture of you on the car as well.”

“Oh, sure, of cour---.”

“Naked.”

Her mouth stayed in the perfect small o as the word died in her throat.  A quick glance revealed her staring at him, and he had to stifle the grin that threatened to crease his features.  For all her big ways, there was still much for Buffy to experience, and he’d just sussed out that public nudity was one of them.

“’Course, if you’re too scared to show a little skin---.”

Buffy snorted, finally breaking free of the surprise his condition had wound around her.  “Oh, please,” she said with a wave of her hand.  “You’re not going to get me that easy.  I’m not doing a skanky car model for you in the middle of the highway.  I just thought a few photos would be fun.”

“Can still be fun, pet.”  His hand returned to her thigh, this time studiously avoiding her damp cleft to begin tracing abstract letters along the tawny skin.  “Find a cozy little spot out of sight of the random lorry driver who happens to be out at this time of night, get you out of your kit, and then drape you across my black beauty here?  Sounds like my idea of heaven, it does.”

His voice had dropped, slithering like rough silk as it joined his fingers’ indulgence across her flesh, and Buffy gulped as her mouth suddenly went dry.  “It’ll be hot,” she argued feebly.  “From…the engine going…you know, vroom vroom…?”

“Still have the tent and sleeping bag in the boot,” he murmured.  “No reason for an inch of that glorious skin of yours to touch anything it doesn’t want to.”  Spike shifted his weight so that the folds of his duster fell open and exposed the bulge of his raging erection to her gaze.  “Though I’m sure I can find something it doesn’t object to.”

Long silence, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d lost her there.  “…nobody will see?” she finally asked softly, flaming the silence into cinders with the unspoken promise behind her words.

“Cross my unbeating heart,” he vowed.

Finding a secluded spot proved easier than he expected, and Spike maneuvered the car so that its nose pointed away from the concrete, the headlights slicing into the countryside with unerring accuracy.  He had barely killed the engine when Buffy was out of her seat, slamming the door behind her as she stepped into the cooler air of the night.  Her arousal had grown over the last few minutes, saturating the vehicle’s interior with a pungence that made Spike’s mouth water, his body itch to claw through his seatbelt and take her right there in the front seat, driving be damned.

That’s all right, he thought as he climbed out of the car.  Get my taste here and now.  She thinks I can keep my hands off her with her sprawled starkers only a few feet away, she’s got another thing comin’.

Buffy hovered at the front of the car while he got the blanket from the trunk, tossing it over his shoulder while he strode to her side.  “Not havin’ second thoughts?” he asked as he laid it out.

The swift flash of headlights whizzing by on the road made her jump as she responded.  “No, no second thoughts,” she said.  A little quickly, he thought, but his eyes betrayed nothing as he turned back to see her shimmying out of her shorts.

She stood between the twin beams, and though the light didn’t hit her directly, Spike didn’t need it to see the muscled columns of her calves, or the rounded curve of her bottom when she hooked her thumbs into either side of her thong to slide it down her hips.  Don’t know what I did to deserve this, he thought as he watched her through his lashes, his tongue running hungrily along the edge of his teeth as her back arched in a sinuous stretch with the removal of her tank.  But bugger if I’m goin’ to muck it up now by makin’ this about the wrong thing.

His original intention was to just fuck the picture-taking.  Spike’s rationale was, that as soon as he was stretched out on top of her, ploughing into her depths and making her scream, Buffy’d forget all about the silly camera and they could spend a few pleasant hours under the stars doin’ what he’d wanted to be doin’ back in the Big Easy before she plopped her driving home schedule down in front of his face.

“I’ve already gone through the atlas,” she’d said, and the excitement in her face had been that of a child, gleeful and innocent and so endearing that he’d let himself wallow in the simple joy she’d radiated as she chattered along.  The weight of the past couple weeks had been lifted from her shoulders, and glimpses of the happy young woman he’d first met over two years previous shone in the green depths of her eyes.  It had taken all his willpower not to fall on his knees in front of her and start spouting some of William’s poncy poetry at her unsuspecting feet.  That would have sent her in hysterics, for sure.

She was far from hysterical now, her eyes wide and solemn as she stood in the moonlight, arms folded across her bare breasts as if that small modicum of modesty would prevent anyone from witnessing her nudity.  “How do you want me?” she asked, hints of trepidation making her voice quaver.

“Now that’s a loaded question, Summers,” Spike teased with a sly grin, hoping it would ease her nerves.  When he was rewarded with a roll of her eyes, he nodded toward the blanket.  “Let’s do something sexy.  Not that that should be hard ‘cause it’s you and all, but…”  He tilted his head in scrutiny when she sat along its metal length, legs in front of her, hands propping her weight up as she leaned back.  “Turn it around,” he instructed.

“Like this?”  Bending her legs, Buffy swiveled on her seat as well as the blanket would allow her and looked back at him over her shoulder.

“No, like…”  Spike stepped forward, guiding her body to the position that had suddenly popped into his head, his fingers firm as she took the pose.  In spite of her natural beauty, there was an awkwardness to her muscles, a stiffness to her neck, that told him louder than any words she might say how uncomfortable she was in acquiescing to his wishes.  Well, maybe not so much his wishes, but more like the deliberate posturing he was asking her to take.  Cameras may adore his Slayer, but she sure as hell didn’t adore them.

Her frown was evident when he finally stepped back.  “But you can’t see anything,” she said, confused.  “What’s the point in me taking my clothes off if you can’t see anything?”

“But I can, luv,” he murmured.  “It’s the promise of it all that’s so sexy, you know.”

And it was.  Now, Buffy was on her stomach, acutely angled along the hood so that from directly in front of the car, only the long line of her thigh was visible, her bare hip sloping upward to the arc of her ass that was obscured from full view by her upper body.  Her chin was propped up in her palms, forearms blocking her chest, but along the slant of her torso, the soft swell of her right breast could just barely be seen, all insinuation and velvety allure as it hid from the onlooker’s eye.

The entire effect was intoxicating.

The seconds slipped away.  He wasn’t even aware that he was staring until Buffy offered him a nervous smile.  “If I’d known the best way to shut you up was to take off all my clothes,” she said, “I’d’ve done it years ago.”

“Buffy…”  The camera fell forgotten from his hand as he returned to stand before her, his body humming from her proximity.  Spike’s mouth was dry as he reached forward again, this time not touching her skin but instead sculpting the air around her.  The heat didn’t normally bother him, but now it felt thick and sultry, cushioning the millimeters that separated his palm from the bow of her shoulder, too much and too far and oh how the strength of her beauty made him ache.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.  “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Obviously, I don’t inspire you to be using that clicky finger of yours,” she replied.  “Tick tock, Spike.  You do me, I do you.  That’s the deal, right?”

“Is that what you want?”  His voice was husky, and his thighs pressed into the grille of the car as he leaned forward and let his fingertips tickle the side of her breast.  “I could just…do you.  Make you feel good…”  The sharp intake of her breath made her shoulders lift just enough for him to graze the now-exposed hardened nipple.  “Let me show you how beautiful you are, pet.”

She sat up then, swinging her legs around so that she faced him.  “You don’t have to do this,” Buffy said quietly, and stilled the hand that hovered in front of her.

“No have to about it.  More along the line of want.”

Using the resistance of her arm to brace her, Spike let his other hand drop to her stomach, tangling in the coarse curls before slipping between her folds.  Each and every single time, it amazed him how wet she could get merely at the suggestion of his touch.  Slippery, and coating, and scorching with her desire, enough to make the dryness of his mouth turn into a veritable oasis as the memory of her taste brought his body screaming to life. 

She was tensing, eyes glued to his as she waited for his next move.  Up and down, his long fingers stroked her inner lips, carefully avoiding any contact with her clit or straying too close to her opening.  Each move was deliberate.  Each move stoked the furnace of Buffy’s body just that much higher, driving her pulse to throb in the hollow of her throat, demanding his attention even more so than her gaze.

Without missing a beat, Spike lowered his head, hair grazing her chin as his tongue darted out and lapped at the droplets of sweat that vibrated against her neck.  The first tang made him want to melt into her flesh, and the hand that had been held in hers curved around her back, tugging her closer until the natural instinct of her legs around his hips was inevitable.

“Spike…” Buffy whispered, breathless as she tugged at the waistband of his jeans.  “Please…want…all of you…”

Between nibbles of her collarbone, he groaned when her small hand freed his erection, pulling along its length, up and down with that delicious power of hers that hurt so good.  Previous intentions flew out the window.  The only thing he wanted at the moment was to bury himself in her flesh, in any way she would have him.

Coiling her arms around his shoulders, Buffy lifted up until the tip of his cock was poised at her slit, and then slowly lowered herself onto him, letting him sink into her heat inch after excruciating inch, all the while never tearing her eyes from his face.  She gasped when the steel teeth of his zipper grated against the sensitive skin of her inner lips but it didn’t stop her from pressing him even deeper inside, and it didn’t stop her from grinding herself against him once he was fully sheathed.

“Love you…so much…” Spike said, and raised his mouth to hers.  Like honey her kisses were, an ambrosia for him to get drunk on for as long as she’d share them.  Slowly, he began pumping in and out of her, letting each stroke last for as long as her inner walls clung to his cock, not allowing the duet of their tongues to falter though each thrust made it increasingly difficult.

She was everywhere at once---in his mouth, around his back, along his chest, surrounding his cock---a blur of Buffy that left him dizzy and hungry and desperate for more.  When he felt the violent tremors begin to ripple around him, his kisses deepened, sucking her in just as she was to him, and Spike held her as she came with a muffled scream.  His own orgasm almost immediately followed.  Something about knowing he was the source of her pleasure was the only trigger he needed.

Her sweat dampened his shirt where she pressed herself against him, but when Buffy tried to pull away, Spike’s grip tightened.  “Hang on,” he said, and, hefting her weight against his pelvis, he stepped away from the DeSoto, taking the few steps to where he’d dropped the camera on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“You wanted a photo,” he replied.  Back to the car with the camera in hand, and only then did he disentangle from her enough to situate them on the edge of the hood, holding the small box out at arm’s length to snap a quick picture that blinded both of the momentarily from the flash.  “Now that’s the kind of shot of my Slayer that I want,” he said when she looked back at him in surprise.  “In my arms, still all passion swollen and the like.”

“And here I just wanted a cute picture I could stick on my nightstand and wake up to every morning,” she teased.  “Not quite viewer-friendly for roommates or visitors, now is it?”

His thumb stroked the line of her jaw.  “So put it on my nightstand.  Just means you have to wake up in my bed if you want to see it, and that’s not something I particularly have a problem with if you don’t.”

“Nope.  No problem here.”  Another kiss, and she was pulling away, leaving him bereft and oddly aware of the air again now that she wasn’t in his arms any more.  Almost immediately, Buffy grimaced.  “Ick.  I’m all hot again.”

“Next gas station, we’ll stop and pick you up another fan,” Spike promised, zipping himself up.  “Think that schedule of yours is all buggered to hell at this point anyway.”

Nothing more was said until they got in the car, and then, it was only Spike’s grunt of approval when Buffy eschewed her seatbelt to nuzzle against his side.  Achingly content, he was smiling as he navigated the car one-handed back onto the highway, leaving his arm draped across her shoulders in order to keep her closer.  She was asleep in a matter of minutes, her small hand resting on his thigh, and he hummed under his breath as the DeSoto raced past the sign announcing their departure from the county.

With the Slayer asleep and Spike distracted by the feelings of repletion coursing through his veins, neither noticed the darkened car along the edge of the road when they zipped by it, nor the way it pulled out after them, marking time with the DeSoto as it stayed in the distance.