DISCLAIMER: The characters are Joss', of course. And the chapter titles are courtesy of Robert Burns.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Buffy and Spike have killed a kelpie down in the dungeon, making love for the first time afterward, while Giles has opted to return to Dall Rath with Colin…

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

"Is it possible you could find another pothole in the road?" Giles asked irritably, his foot nudging back the bag that had tipped against his leg.

Colin's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his shoulders tense as he peered at the driving rain through the windshield. "I'm doing the best I can," he said through gritted teeth. "And if you didn't want to be chauffeured through a Highland storm, you should've stayed in town. It's supposed to have passed by morning." He stole a quick glance at his colleague, taking a deep breath before barreling forward. "Are you going to sit there and stew the rest of the way to the castle? Or are you going to tell me what you're considering? Because frankly, if you still believe that I'm not on your side---."

"I want to take a closer look at the control spell the Council wished to utilize." The effort of keeping his thoughts to himself was exhausting, and in spite of his mood, he knew that having another brain working over the possibilities could only benefit their side. Even if it was Colin.

"Why?"

"Because I don't believe they ever intended for Spike to survive the ritual."

It took a moment before Giles' implication sank in, but when it had, Colin's eyes widened, the wheel jerking his hand to press the older Watcher uncomfortably into his door.

"Keep your bloody eyes on the road!" Giles barked. "I'd rather like to make it back in one piece, not wrapped around a tree trunk."

"I realize that we're generally considered the 'good guys,'" Colin protested, "but I find it just as difficult to believe that the Council would kill Spike as they would to de-chip him. How on earth are you reaching this type of conclusion?"

"Because if I'm correct, I think I know why the spell failed for us. And I think Travers knows why it failed for them."

"And do I have to guess at these suppositions, or are you going to tell me?"

Giles sighed. "When we attempted the spell, we saw the magic try and possess Buffy, Spike, and Willow, correct?"

"Yes, but it was very obviously expelled from Miss Rosenberg. She even said she could feel it getting pushed out."

"Exactly. She was meant to be the host, but for what? Celtic magic is based on the power of three, the living, the dead, and the---."

"---the immortal," Colin finished, and frowned, his mind working as he mulled the details. "The core of Celtic power itself."

"And though she may argue to the contrary, Willow has a very powerful natural talent for magic. I would argue there wasn't room for the host within her. That's why the spell failed for us."

"So, the ritual will never work with her as an element," Colin mused. "We'll have to make the necessary adjustments for our next attempt. Frankly, I'm surprised Mr. Travers would've requested her presence if he knew that aspect."

"I would imagine they didn't anticipate just how strong Willow really is," Giles said. "But what concerns me is that we don't even know exactly how the control spell works. What happens after the three are possessed by the magic? Up to this point, we've been accepting that it's a passive process for the participants. What if it's not? Maybe the spell failed the first time because the dead component needs to be animated in order to complete its portion, and so the corpse was incinerated from the power of the magics that consumed it."

"And Spike's demon circumvents that issue."

"We know at least that within the confines of the spell itself, he doesn't have the same conflict that Willow does. But what about after?" Giles shook his head. "We know far too little about this spell to be so blindly trusting in it. And after all the subterfuge in their attempts to gain the harness and control of this passageway to the Otherworld, it wouldn't surprise me if the Council never expected Spike to walk away from this project. It would certainly explain their rather cavalier offer of de-chipping him."

They drove along in silence, bending around the curved lane as the storm raged around them. More than once, the younger Watcher sneaked a peek at his colleague, before finally gnawing at his lip. "Not that I…maybe we should…I mean, it's only Spike," he tried, quailing when Giles turned a hard gaze to stare at him.

"You are not suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

"Well, he is just a…vampire…" Colin's voice trailed away, only to reassert itself as he stared ahead. "You don't even like him," he qualified. "Why does it matter to you what happens to Spike?"

"It doesn't. But…it would be wrong." Even as he said it, Giles couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth. "Not that I believe we should remove the chip. But Spike is more than proving an…adequate ally. Punishing him for that is hardly the right message to send, don't you think?"

"And then there's Buffy to consider."

It was meant off-hand, stated merely as an adjunct to Giles' own explanation, but the inference narrowed the older Watcher's eyes. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" he asked quietly. "You are not actually pursuing this line of thought again."

"I'm not pursuing anything. I just believe that if something were to happen to Spike…Buffy might not be happy about it." Colin sighed. "And I'm changing the subject now. Go back to stewing."

He wanted to reach over and slap some sense into the younger man, force him to realize just how ridiculous he was being, but Giles refrained, instead removing his glasses to rub tiredly at his eyes. It was bad enough to consider that the Council had intended reneging on their deal with Spike; to contemplate something might be brewing between his Slayer and the bleached vampire was just too much fodder for headaches, and now was the time to keep his mind clear.

He frowned as he felt the car slow to a stop in the lane, and looked up to see Colin leaning forward, eyes narrowed. "What is it?" Giles asked, slipping his spectacles back onto his nose.

"Is that Duncan in the road ahead?"

The older Watcher squinted into the rain. "I don't know how you can tell," he muttered. "I can see bugger all in this."

As if on cue, the hunched form of the cook appeared in the headlights, shielding his eyes to try and make out the car's occupants before breaking out into a smile and bolting for the driver's side. When Colin rolled down his window, Duncan poked in his head and said, "I don't suppose you'd let me spend the night at the castle?" he asked, his voice far too chipper for the strength of the surrounding storm. "I'm afraid I got a little side-tracked and at this rate, I'll never make it back into town."

"Of course," Colin agreed, and watched as their new passenger climbed into the back seat. "What about your aunt?"

Duncan's smile was wide. "She'll just have to learn that I'm not a child anymore," he replied, and wiped the wet from his brow.

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

"I'm tired of researching," Xander whined, closing the book in front of him as he pushed himself away from the table. "Let's go find Buffy and Spike, and help them with the recon instead."

"Um, how about no," said Willow, and pushed his book back toward him. "We still don't have any answers and they really don't need our kind of help."

"I'm going to bet they find something," the young man continued. "If our boy Dunc's keeping any secrets, Buffy'll find them. Or Spike. One of them." He seemed to be waiting for some sort of response, but getting none, took a deep breath and pressed on. "OK, I'm going to go out on a limb here, but I just gotta know if this is me playing all by my lonesome in this tree house or not."

"What is it, sweetie?" asked Anya.

"It's about Spike. Does anyone else think that he's a little…different since we got to Scotland?"

The two witches immediately stiffened, glancing at each other before affecting an air of ignorant nonchalance. "Seems like the s-s-same old Spike to me," Tara said, eyes glued to the book in her hands.

"Yeah," Willow agreed. "You know, grrr, can't wait 'til I can bite you, crankypants Spike. Not different. Definitely the same."

"I don't know." Xander's face was thoughtful. "I mean, he's still annoying, and I still occasionally get this irresistible urge to play Pin the Stake on the Vampire when he's around, but I'm thinking he's not really the same guy anymore. Makes me wonder if maybe it's got something to do with this new girlfriend of his."

"New…girlfriend?" The redhead had frozen, eyes like saucers, her voice a tremulous squeak. "What makes you think…he's got a…"

He shrugged. "He said so."

"He just…t-t-told you this?"

"Is it so hard to believe? Cupid's pretty much turned Spike into his own personal pincushion. The guy needed some friendly advice."

In spite of her anxious surprise, Willow's wide-eyed apprehension twitched into an amused grin. "And…you figure you're the best candidate to be playing Dr. Phil? Xander, I hate to break it to you, but your dating record's not much better than Spike's."

"Hey!"

The redhead smiled apologetically at Anya. "No offense."

"See, and my take on the sitch is I'm the perfect guy to help a vamp out of a tough spot. Or have you all forgotten that I'm catnip for the demon set?" He ticked them off on his fingers. "There's been Bug Lady. Mummy Girl. Anya's only recently left the demon fold. And let's not forget Miss Cordelia Chase. If anyone has demon girlfriend experience, it's Alexander Lavelle Harris."

Both witches visibly relaxed. He didn't really know. Not when he thought…"So, Spike's new girlfriend is a demon?" Willow asked.

"Well, yeah, what else would she be? Just…" He leaned forward conspiratorially. "…don't go telling Buffy, OK? The guy's already having a hard time trying to figure out how to tell this girl he loves her. The last thing he needs is the Slayer busting his fangs because she's not having any luck in the slaying department. You know how much the Buffster likes to take her frustrations out on Spike."

"Don't worry." Their smiles were wide. "His secret is safe with us."

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

It was as if a thousand butterflies were trapped just under her skin, and had simultaneously decided that exact moment to take flight, beating their gossamer wings in a flurry to escape the confines of her flesh, only to be netted in frustration, fluttering instead against Spike's skin in a riot of feather kisses. As he rolled himself to the side, propping himself up on his elbow while his other hand trailed down between the sweaty slickness of her breasts, he watched as she followed him, her eyes somehow made more translucent in the dim cavern light, and wondered just what Slayer thoughts could be teeming behind the hazel to create the illusion of more than he hoped to imagine.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" Spike murmured, letting his fingers curl under the weight of her breast.

Wordlessly, she nodded. "Something about…climes, right?" she breathed.

It took him a moment before realizing she'd actually been listening to the poetry on the mountain, Byron's words lingering in her memory like the aftertaste of a fine wine, and the sense of satisfaction that began to tickle in his gut warmed him, lifting the corner of his mouth into a smile. "But better," Spike said, and lowered his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. "Much better."

When he pulled away, she was still watching him, and he lay, transfixed, as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't…suppose…" she started, then blushed, finally ducking her gaze.

"What?"

Buffy rolled onto her side, stretching out her legs to match his. "I'm not really…tired," she said.

He caught the inference and held it to his chest, entranced by this sudden shyness on her part, wondering what else she would do yet tonight to surprise him. "Vampire constitution, pet," he murmured. "All you have to do is say the word and I'm there." His lips quirked. "Or even ahead of you. That's been known to happen on the odd occasion."

Her brows shot immediately up. "That sounds like a challenge." Her hand began dancing over his chest, one fingernail grazing the tip of a nipple, tweaking it to a hardness that matched her own. "You're not really daring the Slayer here, are you?"

His cock twitched against her hip, hardening within seconds at the promise behind her words. "Depends." A flash of gold glittered behind the azure. "You think you've got something to prove?"

In a flash, she had pressed him back onto the floor, and Spike felt the grit rasp across his shoulder blades, just as the silk of her fingertips stroked the outline of his chest. The shine in her eyes was gone now, replaced with darkened irises that gleamed in hunger, and the anticipation of what she was going to do spurred him to lift himself onto his elbows. "That's not the best you've got to offer, is it…Slayer?" he taunted, and was immediately rewarded by a shove back into the earth, her thighs straddling his hips, slick against hard as she leaned forward, her hair dragging over his cheek.

"I haven't even started," Buffy whispered, and licked upwards at his chin, catching his mouth with hers in a fevered kiss as her fingers dug into his flesh.

More than anything, he wanted to wrap himself around her, hold her close as their tongues battled, but Spike knew the rules to this little game, had played it out in his head countless times before he'd ever considered it could even become reality. The dance of who really was in control. Letting her lead until it was his turn. Then, showing her that it wasn't about winning. It was about the dance itself. Executing the steps as one. His. Hers. Together.

So he clung to the ground, feeling her lips leave his and begin their wet descent down his neck. And he waited.

He tasted of clean leather, and with each lap against his skin, Buffy felt the prickles in her mouth salivate, coating her in moisture as she licked a duet across his chest…down the slight hollow of his abdomen…into the muscled creases of the juncture of his thighs. Each lethal sinew seemed to hum beneath her touch, and when she heard his groan as she nipped at his hip, she couldn't repress the chuckle of delight that bubbled from her own throat. "Told you not to dare me," she said, wrapping her hand around his erection as her tongue darted out to trace around its head.

Gritting his teeth, Spike's eyes squeezed shut as Buffy replaced the warmth of her fingers with the heat of her mouth, sliding down the length of his cock as she swallowed him whole before inching her way back up again. Not yet, he warned himself. Not bloody yet. But when her nails raked along his inner thigh, he bucked, forcing himself even further down her throat, unable to constrain the instinct to thrust even as she lifted herself away to gaze up at him in amusement.

"Don't tell me you like that," she teased. She lowered her head back down to allow her tongue to skate along the velvety underside of his arousal. "I wasn't even trying that hard."

This was his cue, and he grabbed it with both hands, twisting out from beneath to knock her backwards, pinning her down just as effectively as she had him only moments earlier. His eyes drank in hers, and Spike smiled. "My turn."

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but as she felt him pass by the curve of her breasts to continue downward across her stomach, Buffy stiffened, knees lifting as she instinctively curled to protect herself. "Spike!" she squealed. "What're you doing?"

"Way I figure it, turnabout's fair play," he drawled, and gently pushed at her legs, forcing them to straighten even as he spread them apart.

"But I…this is…I've never…" She flushed, suddenly embarrassed, and turned from the quizzical tilt of his blond head.

"Lemme guess. Not Soldier Boy's thing?"

Buffy shook her head. "He said…he'd tried it once, but…" God, this was awkward . "…it didn't really do anything for him," she finished.

"Always knew something was off with Whitebread." Spike slid himself up so that he could wrap his arms around her, pulling her against him as his mouth caressed her ear. "If you don't want me to, I'll stop," he said. "But gotta tell you, pet…just the smell of you is drowning me here. I can taste you already…" His hand slithered across her hip to her inner thigh, one finger dipping into the moisture it found, causing her to gasp as he pulled it away. "Do you have any idea just how delectable you really are?"

She watched in mute fascination as he licked at the juices clinging to his finger, holding her breath as it returned to the font between her legs. "You…like it?" she asked. "It's not…"

Spike chuckled. "Most definitely not," he affirmed. "Trust me?"

"Of course."

Though the light in her eyes would've been the only impetus he needed, hearing her say the words lifted the corner of his mouth, kissing her tenderly before beginning the inexorable slide back down her body, allowing his tongue to wander this time…a cool flick across her hardened nipple before tracing the pink aureola…tasting the clean line of drying sweat in her navel as he felt the tremors begin vibrating through her skin…his hands pressing her thighs into the ground as he positioned himself between her legs, watching the staccato of her body's rhythms play across her limbs.

He seemed to wait forever, but as she felt those cool fingers part her coarse curls, Buffy's eyes fluttered shut, the heady sensations of his strength causing the world to tilt around her. The first glide of his mouth along the inner curve of her labia caused her hips to twist, forcing him to tighten his grip as he held her firm. I'm going to come before he even touches me again, she thought erratically, but when she felt his tongue circle her clit, catching it between his teeth, the jolt it sent up her spine rooted her in place, ripping the guttural cry from her lips as her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer…and deeper.

There was no mistaking her pleasure, and as he felt the smooth skin of her thighs against his cheek, Spike couldn't help the growl of satisfaction that rumbled from his throat. Though he had always known it could be this good, it was having the proof trembling beneath his touch, hearing her call out his name in rasps that scraped down his spine in virulent tremors, that made each second of waiting more than worth it. She was his now, whether she knew it or not. And if he had to fight every remaining moment of his undead life to keep her, Spike was prepared. Because he couldn't lose her. Not now. Not ever.

Her orgasm was a flood through both of their bodies, her legs wrapped around his shoulders, locking him in place as the undulations ricocheted through Buffy's muscles in a tornado. At the first sign of ease within her legs, however, Spike slid up, guiding himself inside before she'd finished, thrusting in a furious rhythm as he clung to her tiny frame. His own climax was only seconds away as she squeezed around his cock, and as he came, he buried his face in her neck, the demon within struggling to emerge even as he fought to keep it under his control.

"Spike…" she whispered, arms clinging to his broad back, her mouth hot against his ear. "Say it."

And he understood then, remembered his words as they'd tumbled from his lips before, and knew why her body had betrayed her earlier thoughts with its racing pulse and butterfly quivering. As they slid over the crest of their lovemaking, Spike lifted his head, kissing the corner of her mouth, and felt her gaze remain steady on his face. "I love you, Buffy," he said softly, and saw her visibly soften, her breath escaping in a delicate exhalation from the hold she'd been keeping it.

That was it. Asking him to repeat his earlier declaration had been one of the hardest things Buffy had ever had to do, and even then, she hadn't been certain he would. It could've been just the heat of the moment, words only tossed about in the flurry of fire that had consumed them both. He could've feigned ignorance, done almost anything else if he hadn't really meant it. But he hadn't. And she'd seen the look in his eyes this time. He believed. And he loved her.

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

The intruders seemed to take an eternity to get dressed, and then even longer to leave, gathering their things while they so studiously ignored the dead body on the shore. It was only when the cavern returned to its natural light did he break his head free of the water, immediately swiveling to gaze upon the shadowed corpse as he began the swim to the bank. This was a risk of being a guardian, but facing the death of his colleague was difficult. It wasn't just that it meant the gate to the Otherworld could now not be completely sealed without other forms of intervention; this was a friend, and as such…he would mourn.

His black hands curled around the kelpie's human form, carrying it back toward the water. He didn't believe the man and woman would be back tonight; their departure announced clearly that they believed the cavern was now clear. This meant it would be safe to leave his post long enough for him to return his friend's body to their home. And to pray that the third returned quickly with the harness…

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

Each step closer to the great hall was slower than the one before. It wasn't conscious; neither of them was deliberately delaying their entrance. But every foot, every inch, found Buffy and Spike loosening their grips, skin sliding against skin as palms separated, knuckles uncurled, until by the time they stood before the door, it couldn't even be called holding hands. Fingertip to fingertip, they hesitated, unwilling to cross the threshold and shatter the spell that bound them.

"Y'know, Watcher Junior's goin' to make us pull an allnighter lookin' for info on this guardian, don't you?" His voice was low, and though he strove for neutrality, anything to make the pretending easier, Spike's arm tremored as he stepped aside, widening the chasm between them even as his body screamed to pull the young blonde close. Stupid bloody promise to wait.

"It won't be much longer."

He shrugged. "Well, now that we've got something specific, Red and Rupes will probably find---."

"I didn't mean that." She looked up at him, eyes apologetic. "I meant us. Telling the gang. I don't…" Buffy's gaze returned to the closed door. "I hate this as much as you do."

Cocking his head to try and catch her eyes, Spike's lips lifted in a half-smile that softened his face. "So let's come clean," he offered. It's what he wanted; it's what he wanted to believe she wanted. She knew how he felt now and though Buffy had yet to say the words herself, he couldn't help but hope that the depth of his feelings might somehow be mirrored within her. "The witches already know. That's half the battle right there."

"No. They're the easy ones. We're fighting testosterone here. Xander and Giles are the ones we have to win." She hated doing this to him. Everything she had asked for---the waiting, the silence---Spike was doing without question, all because he loved her. Yet, she couldn't find the courage to tell the other men in her life about their relationship. What a good girlfriend I make, Buffy thought sarcastically, mentally shaking her head.

Taking a deep breath, the Slayer's hand curled around the doorknob. "Ready to face the lion den?" she said softly.

"The sooner we get crackin' on connecting Duncan to that beastie in the dungeon, the happier I'm goin' to be."

She stopped, swiveling her head to stare up at him in confusion. "What're you talking about?" she asked. "What does the one have to do with the other?"

His brows lifted. "You're kidding, right?" Spike waited for her to nod, but was met only with the blankness of her hazel stare. "C'mon, the bloody thing pulled the same trick on you that that bastard chef does. That can't be a coincidence."

"I really wish I knew what your problem with Duncan was," Buffy said, shaking her head. "Because coming up with these imaginary relationships between him and the kelpie downstairs makes absolutely no sense to me."

His eyes searched hers, looking for something---anything---that might indicate she was teasing. "You really…don't see it, do you?" he finally commented. "That thing talked you out of killing it, Buffy. You remember that, right?"

"I remember giving it a chance to explain itself. Huge difference, if you ask me."

"No, you let it distract you. It turned into a human, and you all but turned into Ulysses, minus the boat lashing." Grabbing her shoulder, Spike spun Buffy so that he could face her, full on. "Don't you see? I'll lay odds it's part and parcel of the whole kelpie mystique. Probably how the whole luring thing works."

"Spike." Her voice was quiet. "I thought we talked about this. There is no reason for you to be jealous of Duncan. Making up these stories---."

"This isn't about ---." His nostrils flared as the vampire felt the ire begin burning in his throat, and he let her go, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "OK. So, maybe I don't like the pillock. But this isn't about that. This is about sleeping with the enemy and not even realizing he's in the same bed with you."

"Not an analogy you want to be using when you're the one I'm sleeping with."

"I'm just saying---."

"And I'm saying you're wrong." There was no anger in her voice, and her gaze was calm as she outlined her reasoning. "Giles has met Duncan's aunt. The man has roots here. He has not once done anything that could be regarded as dangerous, or threatening, or even slightly scary. There is no way he has anything to do with our resident kelpies." The next was joking, though the words were serious. "And if you don't drop this, I'm going to drop you, got it?"

Spike's lips thinned. "Got it," he said tightly. She didn't see it. Whatever power Duncan was exerting over Buffy and the other girls, it was blinding them to what was so obvious to him and Xander, and trying to bring it to her attention was only going to piss her off. And the thing that had happened when the cook had left? No way could he bring that up without making himself look like a complete git. He was going to have to go about this one on his own.

Her hand returned to the doorknob. "Can we do this now?" she asked. On his nod, she smiled and pushed her way into the great hall.

"Hey, gu---." The greeting choked in her throat as she walked into the nearly empty room, her gaze automatically settling on the lone set of hunched shoulders at the table.

Spike frowned as he stepped beside her. "Where'd they all go?" he asked, scanning the corners of the great hall. "It's not that late, is it?"

"I don't know." Buffy turned back into the entrance. "You stay here. I'm going to see if I can round everyone up."

He grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving. "How did I pull Xander-sitting duty again?" he demanded. "The boy's sleeping. He hardly needs me to watch him breathe in and out."

She didn't even bother replying. With a roll of her eyes, she had pulled herself free and was out the door, leaving Spike alone to glare at the young man's stooped back.

It took him only a moment to decide. If Buffy wasn't going to listen to him, the vamp knew that at least Harris would. He just needed to be awake to actually hear what had happened. In three long strides, he had crossed the distance to the table, his boot deliberately knocking the chair leg as he walked behind the sleeping Scooby to the adjacent seat.

Xander bolted upright. "I got the bleach, Mom!" he cried out, his brown eyes wide.

"Actually," Spike said, settling himself into the chair and propping his feet up on the table, "you never did get that straight."

"Oh, because you're the laundry guru." Rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands, the brunette looked around in confusion. "Where'd everybody go?"

"Buffy's bringing 'em around to go over what we found out."

He immediately perked up. "You found something on Duncan?" he asked. "Please tell me we get to kick him to the curb and that I get to wear steel-toed boots to do it."

"Not exactly." Quickly, he relayed the events from the dungeon, carefully editing out any references to what happened between him and Buffy, and watched as Xander's face grew darker and darker. "So the way I see it," Spike finished, "is we have to get our proof first if we want Buffy to believe us about him."

"Do you have any ideas about that?"

He didn't even bother hiding his smirk. "If I'm right about the wanker---and I know I am---I can go one on one with him without settin' off the chip."

Xander was quiet. God, he hated to admit he really loved the idea of Spike pummeling Duncan into the ground, the image of the dark man's bloody nose vivid in his imagination, but at the same time… "What if you're wrong?"

"I'm not."

"But what if you are?"

"And I say, I'm not." His feet came down as he leaned forward, blue eyes hard. "If you're goin' to whinge about it, I'll go it on my own, Harris. But I'm doin' this, whether you like it or not."

"Buffy'll kill you if you're wrong."

He thought about that for a second, remembering her warning in the hall. "Maybe," Spike admitted. "But if I'm right---."

"I thought you said you were sure."

His exhalation was for show only, his mounting frustration driving him to his feet, knocking the chair beneath him back. "Will you just bloody make up your mind?" he barked. "I am sure, so stop playing semantics and just let me know if you're in or out here, or god help me, I'm going to take that soddin' stick of yours---."

"I'm in, I'm in." Xander sat up. "What's the plan?"

"Thought that was clear. I'm going to hit the bloke and if I come out of it free and clear, we go to the Slayer. But you're goin' to have to be a witness to it 'cause if someone doesn't back me up, she's not goin' to believe a word that comes out of my mouth about that blighter." He stopped in mid-pace, heavy brows suddenly furrowing. "'Course, he's gone for the night so we'll just have to wait until mornin' to…"

His voice trailed off as the door to the great hall opened, and the Watchers and Duncan entered, each in varying degrees of saturation from the rain outside. As his jaw tensed, the vampire's gaze locked on the dark figure of the cook, watching as he shook the water from his coat, casually ignoring the pair they'd walked in on. "Or maybe not," Spike muttered.

"Where's Buffy?" asked Giles, stepping up to the table.

"Getting Red and the others." His platinum head jerked toward the door. "Thought he'd gone home for the night."

"I'm afraid I didn't walk quickly enough," Duncan said. "When they came across me in the road, Mr. Sadler was kind enough to bring me back here to escape further soaking from the storm."

"Is this a party?" Buffy was smiling when the men parted to see her standing in the doorway, the other girls hanging behind her. "How come we weren't invited?"

"A research party," Giles clarified. "And your presence is most definitely required. Where are the texts regarding our…" He glanced at Duncan before returning to his charge. "…preparations?" he asked, hedging his choice of words.

"We put them away when we went to bed," Willow explained.

"And thank you so much for letting me know you were going," Xander said. "You didn't have to leave me Rip Van Winkling in the dining room, you know."

"You looked too peaceful to wake up," Anya said.

"And Buffy and Spike weren't around to carry you upstairs," offered Tara.

"Still would've been nice to be---."

"The books?" Giles prompted. He watched as Willow scurried to the box in the corner and began rummaging around, leaving the remaining females to take their places at the table.

Spike's eyes narrowed as Duncan approached, hanging back slightly as he waited for the girls to seat themselves, then stepping forward to just behind Buffy. When the cook's hand came down to rest on the chairback, the vamp gritted his teeth as he saw him deliberately position his fingers so that they were brushing against her shoulder, so lightly Spike was certain she wasn't even aware of the contact but unquestionably there. So lost was he in the anger that was flaring inside him, he missed the first part of what the other Englishman was saying.

"…shouldn't have been so short with you."

Spike blinked. The wanker was talking to him. "What was that?" he asked.

"Earlier. When I was leaving." Duncan was smiling, his eyes sheepish. "I'm afraid I owe you an apology for my behavior, Spike. I really don't know what came over me." He laughed, edging himself closer to the blond vampire, only to strengthen the contact of his fingers on Buffy's shoulder. "It must've been the storm. All that electricity in the air is bound to short circuit something in the brain occasionally."

Unexpected. That was the only word for it. Out of the blue, unanticipated, and such a total line of bullshit, Spike was having problems looking at the guy with a straight face. Apologizing? They both knew the mutual threats had been more than intended, yet here he was, playing up with the so sorry routine, and there wasn't a damn thing the vamp could do about it. Not with that expectant smile of "I told you so" on Buffy's face. And especially not for as long as he was pulling that charmed act of his on the girls in the gang.

"Yeah," Spike drawled, squaring his shoulders as he thrust his hands into his pockets. His eyes glittered as he stared at the other man, the set of his jaw firm. No way was he going to let Duncan think he'd won, that he for a second bought the little apology act. But appearances still had to dictate otherwise. "Know a little myself about things messin' with your head. You should be careful. Can get a nasty headache if you're not paying attention."

The warning didn't go unnoticed, and the cook's mouth tightened in its smile. "Still," he said slowly, "it was hardly necessary for me to respond to you in such a fashion. Not when there are more…appropriate ways of expressing one's feelings. And I am most sincerely sorry that I allowed you to see me acting in such a way." His smile faded as he looked around the group. "I am in dire need of some refreshment," he said, changing the subject. "So I'm going to put the kettle on for some tea. Would any of you care for some?"

"That would be nice," Giles murmured, and gave him an absent wave of dismissal. "Thank you."

They waited until Duncan had left the room before speaking again. "I thought you were staying in town tonight," Buffy said to her Watcher.

"I've had some…revelations. I want to look at the control spell some more."

"But why? We're not even doing it, are we? I thought we were on the closing train here."

"We are, but Colin and I may have figured out why it went wrong. We want to investigate further."

Spike stepped forward. "Tell him about the dungeon, Slayer."

Giles frowned. "The…dungeon? Did something happen while I was out?"

"Oh, yeah." She rose to her feet. "And this one, you gotta see for yourself."

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

They stood along the bank of the stream, their flashlights cutting and crossing across the bare ground. "I'm telling you, it was right here," Buffy argued.

"And you're sure it was dead?" Giles asked. "It couldn't have stood up and walked away of its own accord?"

"You don't think I can't tell a fresh kill when it's right in front of me?" Spike said. "I broke its neck. It wasn't walking away from anything."

"Well, it's not here now, that much is certain," Colin commented. "It appears we have another mystery to puzzle out tonight."

Slayer and vampire exchanged a quick look before she turned to face the two Watchers. "Listen," she said, "about the research---."

"You're not getting out of it," Giles pre-empted. "We need all the eyes we can manage right now."

"Doesn't killing our resident kelpie count for anything? I should earn extra get-out-of-research free cards for that one."

"If you're going to play that kind of game, technically Spike is the one who has earned the right to have an early night," her mentor countered. He glared at the vampire when he saw him brighten. "Not that that's going to happen, either," he added. "You two are the only ones who've had proper looks at both the kelpies and the harness. And now that there's this guardian business, I'm not about to allow either of you to shirk your responsibilities to the team by retiring early."

Their shoulders were slumped as they began trudging back to the tunnel, and Buffy kicked at some loose grit under her shoe. "Stupid research," she muttered.

Colin looked up at the older Englishman in amazement. "How on earth did you manage that?" he asked. "She's going to do it. I've been wondering ever since we arrived how to get the Slayer to pay any attention to my instructions."

"It's the law of averages," Giles explained as they followed after the pair. "Say something often enough, and eventually, she'll actually listen to you."

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

He blew gently at the tea, cooling it to tepid temperatures that would make it bearable to drink. Though his clothing still clung to his frame in a warming damp, Duncan was oblivious to the sensations, a lifetime spent in and out of the water dulling what discomfort getting caught in the rain might have provided. Instead, his concentration was focused on the voices on the other side of the closed door, a mingling of tenors that believed themselves to be hushed enough for privacy but were as clear to him as if he'd been sitting there at the same table with them. All it took was a matter of listening.

Another guardian was dead, but they had yet to discover that there were three, their confusion over the missing body sparking arguments between the Slayer and her mentors as they fought to find the answers within their books. He didn't doubt they would; someone, somewhere, had surely documented the existence of the Otherworld guardians, and with the resources this group seemed capable of commanding, it was most likely in one of the many texts they were now searching. But closing the pathway to his home now required either time for two more guardians to be placed, thus completing the triumvirate necessary to protect it, or the completion of the spell Duncan had provided the visitors. And he wasn't certain any longer that he wanted them to actually do it.

It was that vampire's fault. He felt his muscles tense, lips pursing as his control over his form tightened in his pique, and felt the surge of excitement course through him at the anticipation of an added player in the game. He liked the young people, especially that Slayer, even if she wasn't necessarily the smartest one of the bunch, but she was female and easily led, his initial interest in her capabilities waning as each day passed and she continued to be oblivious to what was right in front of her face. Power she commanded in spades, and as thrilling as that had been to touch, it was insignificant when it came to the bigger picture.

No, his true opponent was Spike, him of the capricious moods and possessive nature toward the humans surrounding him. He was the only one of the group to challenge him, noticing the lures, the touching, making the playing of the Slayer all that much more delicious because Duncan knew she would never believe anyone else while he could exert his control, forcing Spike to watch in impotence and growing frustration. Though he didn't care for being threatened---especially when it was done not-so-subtly as the vampire had done earlier---his desire to dole out the deserved comeuppance to the other demon was quelling any instincts to just take the harness and run, driving him to return to the castle and run the risk of the exposure, just on the possibility of showing Spike that he wasn't the cock of the walk as he imagined. Just on the possibility of winning.

He could be beaten. And Duncan could do it. With the aid of the information he had gleaned from Hornbrook, of course.

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

His hand hovered over the phone, picking it up only to replace it back into its cradle with a plastic thud. I don't want to do this, he thought, long fingers worrying his hair. This gets me back in, and that's not who I am anymore. It's not.

But the suspicion was gnawing at his insides, depriving him of sleep, creating black nightmares inside his head as he imagined the monster's hands on his Buffy. It was the only reason he was even standing there debating it, but the longer he stood, the more he knew how fruitless it was. He would make the call and ask. He had to. He couldn't just pretend he hadn't heard. Not when it was Spike. And definitely not when it was Buffy.

There was only a moment before he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line. "I need a favor," Riley said, as his hand tightened around the phone.

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

Though the pictures were spread out on the desk before him, Quentin Travers didn’t see them, his eyes fixed on a spot on the opposite wall as he leaned heavily back in his chair. Examining photographs of Peg Calvock wasn’t going to tell him why Hornbrook hadn’t checked in the past two days, nor would it explain why they were in turn unable to contact him. It was as if the man had fallen off the face of the planet, and that worried the head of the Council more than he was willing to admit to his colleagues. At this stage of the project, each and every complication jeopardized what they had been working toward these past few months, and anomalies, whether a disappearance or merely a lag in protocol, could not bode well for their success.

“We can always bring in Mr. Sadler,” said the woman who sat across from him. “He’s proving resourceful, and I know he’s eager for more responsibilities within the Council.”

“No.” Quentin’s voice was quiet, but firm, affording no one in the room opportunity to argue with him. “I don’t believe we can entirely trust him with this just yet. He’s young, and easily influenced. If Rupert begins to suspect that there is a risk to his Slayer, young Colin might be swayed to act outside of the Council’s best interests.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid we’ll just have to sit and wait a while longer. Perhaps those storms we heard mention of knocked out power or something. It’s not a highly populated area. It could just be a temporary loss of communication.”

“What about the body of the witch?”

Slowly, Quentin straightened in his seat and began collating the pictures, stacking them into an even pile before returning them to the file folder. “Send it back for burial,” he instructed. “We’ve learned all that we can from it for now.”

He waited for the others to file out of the room before rising to his feet, sighing heavily as he did so. Though he would never confess it to the others, Travers was beginning to wonder if acquiring the harness was really worth all the effort the Council was extending. Hornbrook had claimed getting Spike to agree to the arrangement had been simple, and the vampire’s eagerness to be rid of the chip had stopped him from questioning their motivation in offering such a deal in the first place. It was times like this Quentin was glad of Spike’s impulsive nature; if he had given it the amount of thought such an offer should’ve warranted, the demon would surely have realized what a silly proposition it was to make in the first place. Nothing prevented either side from honoring their end of the bargain, and though it was that sort of thinking that he was counting on, Travers was slightly disappointed that Spike had accepted their proposal without doubting their sincerity for even a moment. Perhaps the vampire was not as crafty as they had always been led to believe. He just hoped it didn’t impede his attempt to fetch the harness for them.

Which only brought him back to his worry about the missing Watcher. In spite of his arguments to the contrary, Hornbrook was one of his top men, and his failure to report in was unusual to say the least. The more he thought about it, the more he believed in the worst, and without a man on the inside, there was no way they could continue the project to its completion. Travers sighed, and turned back to his desk, pressing the intercom on his phone. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said, resigned. “Get me Colin Sadler.”

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

Colin had been right. Now that it was morning, the storm was gone, with sunshine streaming in through the small windows to illuminate the great hall in morning brightness. As the Watchers had promised, the night had been spent in research hell, and the gang was just now beginning to feel the repercussions.

Almost everyone was asleep. Anya and Xander both sat at the table, their heads resting on the books in front of them, while Tara had curled up in the chair next to the fireplace. When Giles and Colin had started nodding off around dawn, Buffy had ordered them to go upstairs and rest, knowing that the better they slept, the more useful they would be later on. In his chair in the corner, Spike was dozing off and on, every once in a while his eyes fluttering open to gaze at her across the room before drifting back closed again, almost as if he was just checking to make sure she was still there. Even thinking of it now made Buffy smile.

She and Willow were the only two still awake, but how long that was going to last, the Slayer had no idea. Though it was only ten in the morning, she was exhausted, a night of reading tiny text and arguing with Giles giving them little but shortened tempers and tired eyes. She wasn’t even sure anymore what exactly they were looking for; after so many books on Celtic lore, Buffy was beginning to believe that maybe it was just all the trick of fairies, and that they should just go home and leave well enough alone. Let Tinkerbell have her day in the sun without them. And to top it all off, everyone was likely to end up sleeping through the day as a result of their wasted allnighter. Another twenty-four hours shot to hell.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Duncan came strolling out, a tray with steaming cups on it in his hands. His eyes were bright, and he was whistling under his breath; of everyone in the castle, he appeared to be the only occupant to have slept soundly the previous night.

He crossed immediately to Buffy and handed her a cup. “Not that I think you should be staying up,” he chastised as she sipped at the hot tea. “Surely you should be getting some sleep. Whatever it is you’re looking for can wait on that, can’t it?”

As the heat seeped into her fingers surrounding the ceramic mug, she regarded him with steady eyes as he stepped to Willow’s side. “It’s OK,” she said. “We’re used to this kind of thing.”

“Yeah,” agreed the witch. “Although usually we’ve got Xander awake and ready to do a donut run right about now.”

Duncan brightened. “Would you like some pastries?” he asked. “It’s actually turning into quite a beautiful morning. I could walk into town and get something from the bakery. Or if you’d rather not wait, I could prepare something here. Aunt Fiona’s scone recipe---.”

Willow was waving her hand, trying to get him to stop talking. “I wasn’t fishing for goodies,” she interrupted. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It wouldn’t be a bother---.”

“No, don’t, really,” Buffy said. “We’re probably not going to last much longer anyway.”

“Maybe for when you wake up then.” He began to turn away, and hesitated, his dark eyes contemplative as he slowly swiveled back. “I hate to seem pushy,” he said, “but I must say, for being on holiday, it really seems as if you’re working awfully hard.”

The young witch rolled her eyes. “If this is a holiday, my name’s Little Bo Peep,” she said.

Buffy giggled. “And I’m Little Miss Muffet,” she added.

“And Xander’s Georgie Porgie---.”

“And Anya’s gotta be Little Bunny Foo Foo---.”

“And Spike’s Wee Willie Winkie---.”

Buffy smiled wickedly. “Not so wee,” she said suggestively, looking pointedly over at the sleeping vampire before turning back to her friend. “More like Huge Willie Winkie.” The pair of girls burst out into a fresh round of giggles, gulping at the air as they laughed at their own silliness.

“OK,” Willow finally said. “Maybe we’re a little tired.”

“What were we saying?” Buffy asked Duncan.

He smiled in return. “You weren’t. I was. I just think that if you really must work so hard, you should reward yourself now and again with a night out. There’s a nice little pub in town. Darts, a snooker table---.”

“Snooker?” Buffy wrinkled her nose in confusion. “What’s that?”

“It’s like billiards,” he explained. “Only harder. And on a bigger table. There’s no live entertainment, but it does have a jukebox with not too outdated music in it. You should really consider taking tonight off and paying it a visit. I think the break would do you good.”

The Slayer shook her head. “Giles would never let us get away with that,” she said. “Too much research to get done.”

Duncan’s eyes twinkled in wicked glee. “So don’t tell him,” he said. “You’re certainly over the age of consent and he’s not your father, is he?”

“It would be nice to do the whole pub thing before we go back to Sunnydale,” Willow said to Buffy. “And it’s not like anything…special needs to happen tonight anyway.”

“We can’t,” the other girl said. “None of us drive, remember? We’d have to walk there and back.”

Duncan glanced over at the sleeping form of the vampire in the corner. “Your friend Spike is English,” he said. “Surely he can drive for you.”

Both girls turned to look at the blond. “It’s not like it would be hard to talk him into sneaking around behind Giles’ back,” Buffy said slowly, the rationalization paving the way for Willow to start planning.

“One of us will have to steal a set of keys.”

“And we’ll have to do something to make sure that Giles and Colin go to bed early so they don’t catch us on the way out.”

“If you want,” Duncan offered, “I could ensure that tea is overly large. Nothing like a full stomach to coax a man into bed.”

“You would do that?” Buffy’s eyes were wide in surprise.

“Of course. It’s not like I don’t have to cook it anyway.” He glanced at the two men in the room before taking a conspiratorial step toward the girls. “I’d only ask one thing,” he said.

“Sure,” Willow replied. “Anything.”

“Would it be possible not to say anything about this being my idea?” His embarrassed smile was accentuated by his furtive looks at Xander and Spike. “I’m afraid your two male friends don’t particularly care for me. If they were to find out I suggested it, they’d probably say no to going, just on the principle of the idea. And I’d hate for you not to get your night out on my account.”

“What’re you talking about?” the witch said. “The guys don’t---.”

“Actually, Will,” Buffy interrupted, leaning forward so that her already low voice wouldn’t travel any further than necessary. “He’s got a point.” Her tired gaze up at the cook was apologetic. “I told Spike he was whacked, but he won’t listen to me.”

Duncan’s answering grin sent a twinkle to his eye. “Perhaps you’re not using the right type of persuasion,” he teased and laughed out loud at the sudden astonishment in her face. “He’s quite taken with you, you know. Which is why I’m sure he doesn’t care for me in the slightest. Anyone else who might find you attractive is automatically the enemy.”

“How’d you…is it really that…?” Then it dawned on her what he’d actually said, and Buffy colored. No mistake about it this time; he was flirting with her. And though it wasn’t unpleasant, it was unexpected. Except…was it really? Hadn’t Spike been saying all along that Duncan was playing her? But that was crazy. He was just a nice guy, paying her a compliment. Nothing sneaky or evil about that.

“Why don’t I get started on those scones?” Duncan said, gathering their cups before heading to the kitchen. “And whatever you decide, just let me know. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

When he was gone, Buffy leaned across the table toward Willow. “What do you think of Duncan?” she whispered. “Was he just flirting with me?”

“Well, yeah, he flirts with all of us. I think it’s his thing. You should hear him and Anya go at it---.”

“But do you like him?” A tiny line appeared in the Slayer’s brow as she glanced at the closed kitchen door. “I mean, does he seem all right to you?”

The witch’s smile was wide. “More than all right. If I wasn’t gay, I know I’d be wanting a piece of Duncan pie.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “Will!”

“What? He’s cute, he’s smart, and he can cook. What’s not to like about that?”

“Spike’s got this crazy theory that Duncan is actually a kelpie in disguise. He’s convinced he’s some kind of threat to me and you guys.” She bit her lip. “I’m beginning to wonder if he might not have a point.”

“Oh, because Spike’s not the jealous type at all,” Willow commented, rolling her eyes as she settled back into her chair.

“You think that’s what it is? He’s just jealous?”

“Buffy, I know that’s what it is. This thing between the two of you, it’s still really, really fresh, and the fact that you still haven’t told Giles or Xander about it? Probably not instilling a huge sense of confidence in him.” She shook her head. “Duncan just knows how to talk to girls, put them at ease. Other guys get intimidated by that. Spike’s just reacting like any guy in love would---.” She froze, realizing what words had actually come out of her mouth, her eyes widening as Buffy fixed on her face.

“How did you know that?” Her voice was low, her words slowly enunciated.

“Know what?” Quickly, Willow buried herself in the book before her, turning the pages too fast, not really reading but not willing to meet her friend’s gaze. Blabbermouth. That’s what she was. Spike was sooo going to kill her when he found out.

With a quick glance at Xander and Anya asleep at the other end, Buffy rose from her seat and stepped around the table to lightly grab Willow’s arm, pulling her up and away from their friends to stand in the corner where they could continue talking in just a little more privacy. “How do you know about Spike, and the…being in love-age?” she asked again.

Wait. She wasn’t wigging. She seemed to… “You know?”

Buffy hesitated before replying. “Yeah. He told me. Down in the dungeon last night. How do you know?”

“Ummmm…” Had he shown her the poem? Could she bring that up? “Actually, that’s kind of a funny story…”

There was a long pause while Buffy waited. “And…?” she prompted after over a minute of silence. “Did he tell you before he told me? Because that’s not so much of the funny if he did.”

“No, no, Spike didn’t tell me. It was…” Oh, wait a minute! “…Xander. Xander told me.”

For some reason, that didn’t make things better. “How does Xander know?” Buffy demanded.

“Well, he doesn’t know it’s you. Seems they had a bonding moment when we were buying roses in town. Spike admitted to being in love with someone, but he didn’t tell him who it was, so your secret is still safe.”

“Spike and Xander bondage does not fill me with sunshine, Will.” Except…maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. One small step toward friendship might be just what Buffy needed to get their relationship accepted by the gang. Life would be so much easier if she didn’t have this to worry about, too.

“So…Spike said he loved you?”

The faraway look in Buffy’s eyes softened the exhausted circles underneath them, the heat rising to her cheeks as she remembered the caress of his hand across her face, the dark promise in his gaze as he’d told her. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Twice.”

“And…this is a good thing?”

Her lip curled, and she lifted her gaze to meet Willow’s directly. “Definitely,” she affirmed softly.

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

Sometimes, pretending to be asleep was a good thing. Their footsteps across the stone floor had pulled him from his dozing, and though he hadn’t meant to maintain the pretence, once Spike had realized what Buffy and the witch were discussing, his nerves had started racing, waiting to see what Red was going to say, whether she’d mention the poem that was still burning a hole in his pocket, and then, to hear what the Slayer would say in response. She hadn’t said the words, but he didn’t need eyes to tell what was going on in her body, to hear the faint catch in her voice as she spoke to her friend, to smell the scent of arousal emanating from her flesh. It would happen. It would just take time. And god knew, Spike had all the time in the world.

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

The air was crisp with cold, the sky a black velvet stretched above them, and the quartet stood next to the car, hands stuffed deep into pockets, watching the front door of the castle in eager anticipation. After a day of productive sleeping, they were finally all wide awake, ready to experience what Highland Scotland considered nightlife. That is, if Spike and Xander ever decided to show up.

“What’s taking so long?” Anya complained. “It’s just a set of keys.”

“What I wanna know,” said Buffy, “is why Giles locks up his car when we’re out in the middle of nowhere.” She stomped her feet in an effort to warm them. “Who does he think is going to steal it? The Loch Ness Monster?”

“Maybe they got c-c-caught.”

Willow shook her head. “Xander’s probably just being careful. If Giles knew we were sneaking out, he’d be out here already with a stack of books for us to start reading while he herded us back inside.”

“I didn’t know Giles and Colin were so tired,” observed Anya. “Did you see them after supper? Out like a light, the pair of them.”

“It’s just the research catching up with them, I’m sure.” Willow kept her eyes away from the others, unwilling to get caught up in the lie. Duncan had been true to his word and fixed a relative banquet for dinner, making sure that the Watchers’ plates were constantly full, giving them seconds and thirds even when they weren’t requested. Then, when they’d both begun yawning at the table over dessert, the cook had gone as far as suggesting a shot of whiskey with their cake. That had been the last straw. Within minutes, they were staggering upstairs, barely able to keep their eyes opened, and the Scoobies had gone scrambling to get ready to go out.

The door opened, and Xander and Spike exited, the vampire whistling as his duster swirled around his legs. “It’s about time!” Buffy said. “What the hell took you so long?”

The construction worker looked pointedly at Spike before turning back to face the girls. “Someone decided to make a small detour,” he said.

“Detour?” Buffy folded her arms across her chest as she looked at the vamp. “What kind of detour?”

“The kind of detour that goes through Giles’ wallet,” Xander explained.

“Big mouth,” Spike muttered.

“You stole money from Giles?” She was indignant, her voice rising, and it sparked the vampire to straighten in defense.

“How else were you expectin’ to fund this little midnight jaunt?” he said. “This may not be the Hellmouth, but they still expect you to pay for your drinks here. ‘Sides, Rupes won’t even miss the dosh. And even if he does, what’s he goin’ to do? Ground us all?” He rolled his eyes and headed for the driver’s side. “Get in and stop your whinging.” Spike caught the firm set of her mouth as he pulled open the door, and shook his head in resignation. “And if it makes you feel better, I’ll pay him back when we get to Sunnydale, all right?”

“And let the partying begin,” Xander said gleefully, rubbing his hands together as he waited for Spike to unlock the remaining doors.

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

It had almost been too easy. The girls had been so easy to sway, talking the others into a night out with little effort, while incapacitating the older Englishmen had been simple for him to arrange, an obscure sleeping concoction mixed into their food portions and drinks knocking both of them out within minutes of consumption. Duncan was now the lone waking occupant of the castle, just as he had hoped to be, and as he stood in the upstairs window, watching the car pull away from the front and down the lane, he smiled.

So much to do. And now he had most of the night free to get it done with little fear of interruption.

It wasn’t a date. Not really. Not when there was a mess of Scoobies crammed into the back seat of the car. Not when half of them still had no clue that anything beyond the usual antagonism was happening between Buffy and Spike. And certainly not when he had to pinch some cash from Rupert just to cover the drink tab he was sure they were going to run up. So, not a date. Definitely.

Except it sure as hell felt like one.

He’d been surprised when Buffy had brought it up in the first place. “Don’t you think it would be fun?” she’d quizzed when he didn’t jump on the bandwagon right away. “And it’s not like we don’t deserve it. We’ve all been working pretty hard here. It’ll do us good to soak up some local color.”

“Just doesn’t sound like your usual style,” Spike had replied. But he’d dropped it at that. The anticipatory shine in her eyes made her mischievous grin all that much more infectious, and the prospect of getting to spend some time with her outside of the castle milieu---albeit with Scoobies in tow---was enough to quell any arguments he would’ve put forth. He wanted to prove to her that they could work, even within the framework of her Slayer existence, and placing them in a neutral setting, forcing him to socialize and interact with her friends, seemed the best way to accomplish that. He hoped. If not, he was going to end up strangling himself for agreeing to put up with them for the night.

She was excited about it, that much he could tell, and though his fingers itched to reach to his left and take her hand in his, Spike refrained from doing so, concentrating instead on the dark road ahead of him as he tried not to hear her heartbeat pounding in his ears, or to smell the combination of musk and perfume and radiated from her skin. Every once in a while, he would glance out of the corner of his eye to try and catch the shadow of her skin in the darkness of the car, but the night betrayed him, cloaking her in midnight so that he was left to rely on his other senses, picturing her bright face with his inner eye as he drove along, contributing the occasional remark to the conversation happening around him.

Maybe it was that that was messing with his perceptions. No one seemed in the slightest bit perturbed at the vampire’s presence in the car. In fact, Willow had actually teased him back at one of his comments, including him in the same camaraderie they usually reserved for Harris. And when Buffy had at one point leaned over to poke him in the arm when he said something derogatory about American beer, it had been jokingly, jerking Spike’s gaze to the mirror to see her friends’ reactions, surprised by their seeming lack of one. In so many ways, it almost seemed mundane, a group of friends going to the local hangout for some rest and relaxation, but on the night-to-night existence of the chipped vampire, this was far from it. It had been a long time since he’d felt like he was actually a part of something---even those last few years with Dru when most of his time had been spent just making sure she didn’t go wandering off into some loopy fugue---and if he was going to be honest with himself, he missed it. Who the hell would’ve guessed he’d find it wrapped up in the Slayer package of loving Buffy? And if he’d thought his reputation in Sunnydale was shot before, Spike knew there was no saving it once they returned. Not if Big Bad was spending his waking moments hanging with humans at the Bronze.

Finding the pub was cake, and Spike pulled the vehicle into the half-full car park that sat beside it, killing the engine as he glanced up at the wooden placard hanging from the building’s front. “End of the line,” he announced.

Buffy followed his gaze, her brows wrinkling slightly as she read the sign. “The Fleece and Firkin?” she said, looking over at the vampire. “What the hell’s a firkin?”

“Do you really want to know or are you plannin’ on playin’ the daft tourist all night?” he teased, his grin gleaming in the dim light. He chuckled as he jumped from the seat, avoiding her playful jab as he skirted the car, dropping the keys into his duster pocket as he watched everyone else emerge from the vehicle.

“We can drink here, can’t we?” asked Xander as he approached. “Isn’t eighteen the legal age in England?”

“It is,” Spike affirmed, “but you’re in Scotland right now, and about to go mingling with the locals, and they tend not to take too highly to being considered English. Mainly ‘cause they’re not. So try and keep your mouth shut when it comes to that, all right?” He grinned. “Though I realize askin’ you to stay quiet is about the same as askin’ Buffy and Red not to natter on about chocolate, or some such. Which,” he said, swiveling his head to gaze at the two women in question, “for the last time, is still better in this country, not that grainy stuff you try to pass off for sweets back in the U.S. of A.”

Buffy’s lips twitched. “Guess you’re the expert on chocolate, huh, Spike?” He caught her hazel eyes darting to the rest of the gang. “Have I told you guys about Bleach Boy’s little run-in with the Easter Bunny yet?”

“Slayer…” he warned.

She giggled and made a dash for the front door of the pub, eluding his outstretched hand. “Last one in’s gotta buy the drinks!” she called back.

Spike shook his head as they hurried past him, jostling and nudging in their rush to get inside. He was the one with the soddin’ money; didn’t make a whit of difference who was the last one in because it was goin’ to be his ass at the bar. Now, if he could just get her to keep her mouth shut about that chocolate sauce…

It looked like any other pub Spike had frequented over the years, though seeing the shine of delight on Buffy’s face as she drank in the ambience made him look around with a fresh set of eyes. Dark wood abounded, from the heavy beams that striped the low ceiling to the tall backs of the worn benches that lined the partially paneled walls, and framed pictures---from the publican’s travels, it appeared---took up what remaining wallspace there was, lending the interior a homey feel in spite of the small groups of people that populated the room. A worn bar dominated the space before the entrance, with the usual brass taps and array of bottles decorating it, while a quick glance around showed the doors that led to other areas, most likely a games room of some sort, the vampire reasoned. It was dark, and it was too warm, and for the first time since arriving in Scotland, Spike felt a sense of having come home at last.

He nodded toward a corner table near the fireplace. “Should probably grab a seat,” he said. “I’ll get the drinks.”

As he began to turn away, Buffy grabbed his arm. “You didn’t ask us what we wanted,” she said.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “There’s a reason for that.” His blue gaze flickered over the lot of them. “Don’t figure you lot are too expert at holding your liquor.”

“Hey!” Anya protested. “I’ve been drinking a helluva lot longer than you have, buster. I bet I could drink you under the table.”

“There will be no drinking under the table,” he warned. “The last thing you need is a bunch of hangovers in the morning announcing to the Watchers exactly what we’ve been up to.”

Buffy pouted. “Since when did you turn into the grown-up?” she asked.

“Since I’m the one who drove your asses out here,” Spike countered. “As much fun as it is sneakin’ around Rupes’ back, I don’t really fancy gettin’ caught when we get back, because you just know I’m the one who’ll end up gettin’ hell for it. Corrupting the young and all that. I’m sure Rupert will find some suitable way of torturing me if he finds out, and knowin’ my luck, it’ll probably involve either chains or boring Gaelic textbooks. Which means I’m doing the drink ordering.” He pushed her toward the table. “Now go sit.”

“I’ll help you,” Xander offered, and after a curious look from the vampire, followed him to the bar.

“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked.

Spike quickly scanned the bottles. “Glenlivet on the rocks, four bitter shandies---.”

“What’s a shandy?” Xander asked.

“Beer and lemonade. It’s a poofter drink. The girls should be OK with that.”

The other man grimaced. “Ewwwww.”

“Not American lemonade, you git. British lemonade. Like…Sprite. Or Seven-Up.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not so bad then.”

“You want a beer?”

“Sure.”

The bartender glanced over their shoulders at the corner while he prepared the drinks. “Two for one,” he commented with a smirk. “Lucky blokes.”

Xander’s eyes widened, looking back at the four girls as they sat giggling around the table before turning to meet Spike’s amused gaze. “Oh, it’s not like that,” he protested to the bartender. “We’re just all friends. Well, except me and Anya, we’re a couple, but the rest of us, just, well, Willow and Tara are---ow!” He crumpled slightly to his right as his head jerked to look at the vampire, his foot smarting from the force of the boot that had just landed on his toe.

His cry of pain was mimicked by Spike as the blond clutched at his head, mentally chastising himself for letting the younger man provoke him. “Just a group of friends looking to relax,” he said through gritted teeth. “Stressful day and all.”

“Should tell your friends to be careful then,” the bartender warned. “Some of the rugby team showed up after losing their game today. They’ve got a thing for chatting up the lasses, especially when they’ve been drinking. They’re in the snooker room for now so if you stay outta there, you shouldn’t have trouble.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“Just don’t want any problems in my pub, understand?”

Spike met the other man’s gaze and nodded. “No problems from us,” he repeated, and picked up the tray of drinks to take to the table.

“Why’d you kick me?” Xander demanded as they walked away.

“Told you to keep your gob shut.”

“You didn’t have to kick me. You could’ve saved both of us a lot of pain if you’d just cut me off nicely like everybody else does.”

“I’ll remember that next time.”

The girls’ giggles had bubbled into laughter by the time Spike and Xander sat down at the table. “What’s so funny?” Xander asked, an expectant smile on his face.

“They sell t-shirts here, too,” Willow said, pointing to a display on the wall. “Look.”

“I think I want the one that says, ‘I’d rather be Firkin than working,’” Buffy said through her giggles.

“As long as I get the ‘we give good head at the Firkin’ one,” Anya added.

As the group dissolved into laughter, Spike smiled, picking up the tumbler as he leaned back in his chair. This was most definitely going to be an interesting night.

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

His assessment of the drink situation would’ve been accurate if they had stopped at just one. When Spike had gotten up to change the music on the jukebox---they’d had to sit in agony while an old biddy kept plugging her change in to listen to Tom Jones sing “It’s Not Unusual” for twenty minutes straight---Buffy had pilfered some of the cash from his duster pocket and purchased another round, half of which was gone by the time he had returned to the table. He’d voiced his protestations aloud, but was privately amused, watching as she laughed and joked with her friends, her color high, hazel eyes dancing as she kept stealing looks at the blond across the table from her. Underneath the wooden surface, her foot stole across to nudge his before curling around his shin and running along the backside of his calf muscle. Her touch was electric, and his cock throbbed within the confines of his jeans, but Spike returned the pressure, locking her gaze with his, as he ran his tongue over his teeth. Oh yeah. Nothing wrong with a little R&R at the local pub. Not when it leant such warm promises.

The third round happened when he and Xander were arguing at the dart board, and though he’d been smart enough to take the money with him this time, Spike still returned to see the girls surreptitiously sipping at fresh pints, the stifled giggles and furtive glances at the guys at an adjoining table telling him all that he needed to know about who exactly had purchased these particular drinks. He’d given up at that point. Maturity be damned, he thought. If you can’t beat ‘em, might as well join ‘em. And became the official drink-go-getter for the Scooby gang. At least, that was the title Buffy bestowed on him. It wasn’t so bad. He’d been called worse.

“I’m bored,” the Slayer announced as the clock on the wall chimed ten. “What else is there to do in this place?”

Spike watched as she craned her neck to look around the pub. “You’re pretty much lookin’ at it, ducks,” he said. “Except for the snooker table---.”

“Snooker!” She leapt to her feet, and started tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s play snooker!”

“Do you even know what snooker is?” he asked.

“It’s like pool, right? And I can play pool. C’mon. I feel like doing something other than just sitting here.” She looked around at the others. “Does anyone else want to play?”

There was a round of head-shaking. “I think that last shindy---.”

“Shandy,” Tara corrected her girlfriend.

“---shandy might’ve gone to my head just an eensy weensy little bit,” Willow finished. “You go. We’ll watch from here.”

“It’s in another room,” Spike said.

“So, we won’t watch then. We’ll just think about watching.”

Without regarding what her friends might think, Buffy plopped herself down in Spike’s lap, throwing her arm behind his shoulder as she pouted. “I wanna play snooker,” she whined. “Come play snooker with me.”

“It’s harder than you think---.”

“That’s OK. I can do hard.” She grinned wickedly and squirmed slightly against the erection that was pressing into her ass.

Spike’s eyes darted from her flushed face to those of her friends, noting their oblivion to the Slayer’s behavior. Why am I the only one who sees her acting like a bitch in heat? he wondered. Not that he was complaining. The taut feel of her muscles against his thighs was making his mouth water in anticipation, and he certainly wasn’t going to argue with the smell of her arousal assailing his nostrils. Besides, he was the one who wanted to bring everything out in the open in the first place. If Buffy was going to make it this easy for her friends to suss out the truth, who was he to stop her?

“Much as I’d love to, pet, we can’t. There’s a rugby team in there right now.”

“So, we’ll kick ‘em out.” Hopping to her feet, she pulled him along with her toward the closed door to the game room. “They’re just going to have to learn how to share.”

A last look over his shoulder caught Xander’s eye, and Spike gave the other man an almost imperceptible nod while glancing at the women who remained. He may be drunk, but it was Harris’ turn to look after the lot of them. For some reason, the vamp was certain he was going to have his hands full with Buffy.

There were four of them gathered around the six by twelve table, and inwardly Spike groaned. The smallest of the group made Finn look like Pee Wee Herman, and though the vamp wouldn’t have blinked twice at taking on four demons of that size, four humans were another matter.

“Hi, guys!” Buffy chirped as she strolled in, a wide smile brightening her flushed face.

The four men looked at each other, then glanced at Spike leaning against the door jamb. “’Lo,” said the one nearest her.

The young woman picked up a cue from the wall and began twirling it expertly in her fingers. “You about done?” she asked innocently. “Because I was kind of hoping that we could maybe have the room to ourselves so that Spike here could teach me how to play.”

The one who had spoken earlier smiled and stepped toward Buffy. “Actually, we’re in the middle of a game, but if you’d like, we can teach---.” He stopped when Spike straightened and folded his arms across his chest, stepping slightly more into the room. Though he easily outweighed the blond by a good hundred pounds, something about the smaller man’s carriage set the Scot on edge, and he warily backed away from Buffy. “Or not,” he hastily added.

“Tell you what,” the Slayer said, still smiling. “You guys give up on the game and let us have the room for a while, and Spike will pay for your next round of drinks, OK?”

“Really?” asked the Scot.

“Really?” asked Spike, turning to look at Buffy.

“Really,” she said firmly, and waited expectantly for her partner to follow through with her offer.

Rolling his eyes, the vampire reached into his pocket and extracted the cash, pulling out a few bills to hand to the nearest man, then stepping back to allow the four to file out of the room. When the last had left, he turned to face Buffy again. “I hope you’re done drinking because that’s the last of Rupert’s money,” he said.

He watched with mounting amusement as she stepped up beside him and shut the door, grabbing a nearby chair and propping it under the door knob to prevent anyone from just walking in. “Yep. All done with drinking now. Now I’m ready for snooker.” She stood before the table, tilting her head to look at it. “How come in a country where everything is so super duper tiny, the pool table is enormous?” she queried.

“Because it’s not a pool table, luv. I told you this. It’s a snooker table.”

She picked up one of the red balls and sent it rolling down the green, watching as it bounced off the far side to go careening into a cluster. “There’s too many balls,” she complained.

“No, there’s just enough.” Picking up a nearby cue, he walked around the table. “Do you want me to teach you or not?”

“Maybe we can teach each other.”

Glancing back over his shoulder, Spike saw Buffy climb on top of the table, crawling to the middle on her hands and knees while knocking the balls in her path out of the way. The arousal that had started abating returned with a vengeance as he drank in her darkened irises, heard the quick pant of her breath. “You don’t play snooker from on top of the table, luv,” he drawled, but turned toward her anyway, setting aside the stick in his hands. “Lesson number one.”

As he watched, the Slayer stretched herself out, rolling onto her back and lying widthwise across the table so that she could dangle her head over the edge, gazing up at him upside down. “You look funny from this angle,” she said lightly.

“That’s because all the blood’s running to your head, pet.”

“Where’s all your blood running?” Before he could blink, her arm had shot out, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his jeans and pulling him forward so that she could rub her cheek along the length of his erection through his pants. “Found it,” she singsonged.

Spike chuckled as he extracted himself from her grasp, stepping just far enough away so that she couldn’t reach him. “You’re drunk, Buffy,” he commented.

“Yep,” she agreed. “I’m drunk Buffy.”

“This shouldn’t happen like this.”

“Why?” She rolled onto her stomach and propped her chin up in her hands to gaze at him, eyes luminous. “I thought you loved me.”

Damn, he thought. How am I supposed to resist that? Not exactly the spokesperson for the moral majority here. Still…“Because it would be takin’ advantage,” Spike said. “And you won’t be happy about that in the morning.” The fact that he was convinced she was going to be hungover as hell as well he kept to himself.

She made a buzzing sound in her throat. “Wrong answer, William. It’s only taking advantage if we’ve never actually done it before. But we have, so it’s just me throwing myself at you, because I desperately want a repeat performance of last night.”

“Really?” He tilted his head, gazing at her through hooded eyes, his lips curved into a half-smile. “And why’s that?”

Her voice was soft. “Because it was amazing, and you know it, you jerk,” she teased. “So get up here and snooker me.”

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

The first thing he did when he passed through the barrier was put down the bag that held the harness. This was never going to work if he showed up with it or in any way let its presence be known. Then, raising the sword he had taken from the weapons cache to a ready position, Duncan began stepping quietly down the tunnel toward the stream, dark eyes glowing in the dim light. Stay calm, he reminded himself. You’re armed. He won’t be. And he’ll know right away if something’s amiss if you appear anything but ready.

When he emerged, he hung back near the wall, unwilling to be taken by surprise. Though it would be a one on one battle, even armed, Duncan wasn’t certain he could best the guardian; after all, protecting the entrance to the Otherworld was its job. Let’s get the show on the road, he thought, and opened his mouth to utter a baleful cry that echoed throughout the cavern.

The splashing in the water was almost immediate, and he stiffened as the black shape leapt onto the bank, turning to face him in hatred. The guardian’s hands extended into deadly claws as he took a step toward Duncan. “You,” he growled. “You dare to return here? You dare…” He broke off, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Why have you come back?”

“I’ve come about the harness.”

The guardian snorted. “You can’t bargain with it,” he warned. “You’re a thief, and you will be treated as such. However, if you return the harness to me now, perhaps the Elders might be convinced to show some leniency and make your death quick.”

“I don’t have it anymore. That’s why I’ve come to you.”

It was an unexpected response. “Have you lost it? Or has my colleague managed to taken it back?”

“Your colleague is dead. The Slayer killed him.” Duncan kept his gaze level, regulating his breathing so as not to reveal his half-truth. Dead, yes, but killed by his own hand when he stole back the harness.

“Slayer? What Slayer?”

“The young blonde woman. She was with the vampire who killed the other just last night.”

Anger rippled across the guardian’s black pelt. “Vampire…” he hissed. “I should’ve known.”

Now was the time. “That’s why I’ve come to you,” Duncan continued, his voice smooth and even. “Yes, I stole the harness, but it’s been taken from me, and I need your help to ensure that it remains in the hands of kelpies, not those of humans.”

“Are you saying this…Slayer has our harness?”

“No.” Duncan shook his head, his eyes cold. “I’m saying the vampire has it.”