DISCLAIMER: The characters are Joss’, of course. And the chapter titles are courtesy of Robert Burns.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Anya has figured out Spike and Buffy are together, and Buffy has returned to the castle with the harness, only to be confronted by the one remaining guardian kelpie…

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

They faced off, both wary, both expectant of any movement from the other, regarding the unanticipated ally in each with suspicion and interest. Though she’d seen it---or something exactly like it---down in the dungeon, it now seemed to be in miniature of itself, standing at just about six feet, with almost human-like features. Well, except for the long razor-like teeth that extended from its mouth. And the black eyes that almost seemed too big for its face. And the fact that instead of bare skin, it sported a black pelt that rippled even in the dim light of the hallway. OK, maybe not so human-like.

“A guardian,” Buffy finally said slowly. “You have a name or something? Because calling you that guardian kelpie demon turns into quite a mouthful for me if we’re going to have a conversation here.”

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it in your tongue.”

She relaxed her stance, mildly annoyed. “Well, I’ve got to call you something.” She thought for a moment. “How ‘bout Frank? Good, solid name. That work for you?”

The kelpie’s confusion was evident in its dark face. “Do I look like a Frank?” it asked slowly.

Buffy shrugged. “You look like that thing that attacked me and Spike the other day.”

“That would’ve been my colleague,” the newly-dubbed Frank said, nodding. “Another guardian.”

“And you say you’re the last one?”

“Until more are called to replace those that have been killed in the line of their duty.”

“Nice to hear I’m not the only one who got called,” Buffy commented, and then frowned. “Wait,” she said. “There were more of you? How many more?”

“Three are required to effectively protect the entrance to the Otherworld---.”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s that number again,” she muttered. “So, you’re one, Spike killed number two when it attacked us downstairs…if you’re the last, where’s the third one? Don’t tell me it’s Duncan.”

“No. The third guardian was the one you killed out in the human world.”

The memory of the kelpie standing in the moonlight, its mane rustling in the slight breeze, the stray beams of silver highlighting its luxuriant coat, came rushing back to the forefront of the Slayer’s mind, and she flushed as if a child who’d just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t kill it,” she defended. “I wounded it, yes, but I found it---.” She cut herself off, reluctant to divulge all the information she’d only recently acquired. There was still no telling what this creature’s full motives were, and until she had a firmer hand on what exactly was going on, Buffy wasn’t going to give any more than she had to.

“You said Duncan was your enemy, too,” she said, changing the subject. “Spike seems to think he’s a kelpie. Is that true?”

“Yes. Though I am ashamed to admit that he is of my kind. He has no honor.”

“And how do you know he’s our enemy? If you’re so busy guarding your Otherworld, you can’t have known what he’s been doing in my world.”

It took a long moment for the kelpie to respond. Its eyes were solemn, but not malicious, poring into her as if by doing so it could read her very soul, and Buffy found herself shifting uncomfortably as she waited for it to answer. Frank was doing his own assessment, judging her merit to determine how much to reveal, and the shift in their positions was disconcerting, to say the least. Don’t push it, she reminded herself. So far, his explanation has been without the routine kelpie touching thing that seemed required for her to be affected by its sway, so he’s doing his best to maintain his sincerity in this issue. No need to go all Slayer-y until he gives me reason to.

“The one you know as Duncan came to me the other day,” Frank finally said. “He attempted to lay the blame for his crimes at the feet of you and your vampire…companion.” For some reason, the guardian knew enough not to qualify their unusual relationship in other terms; somehow, he suspected she would not react well if she were to discover the pair had had an audience during their recent coupling. As it was…

“He what?” Her indignation colored itself in twin spots of red high on her cheeks, her jaw dropping as the statement sank in. “He said we killed all those people? Oh, I am soooo going to enjoy wringing his too-charming neck.”

“Not the deaths,” he clarified. “His theft.”

Though her pulse raced, she gave no outward appearance of having understood what he was referring to. But in her head, Buffy’s brain was firing, making the connections regarding the harness that had been eluding her, yet…it still didn’t coalesce into a cohesive picture. “Tell me what happened,” she said calmly. “What did he steal?”

The guardian sighed. “It’s a long story---.”

“Then I suggest you dive in. Unless you’d rather be fighting.” Her fists tightened at her words.

Another sigh. “If it will aid in your trust, so be it.” He took a deep breath. “As a guardian, my duties are twofold. First and foremost, I, along with my colleagues, protect the Otherworld from those who would seek to harm it, which unfortunately, we have come to learn means all intruders. So, we prevent any from crossing through the entrance.”

“You kill them,” she stated, remembering the attack on her and Spike during their first sojourn into the tunnel.

“We protect our species,” it reiterated. “Death is a necessary effect of that. As the Slayer, you should understand our need for such measures.”

She blushed slightly at the admonition in his voice. “What’s the other part of your job?” she asked.

“We guard what is considered one of the most valuable artifacts in the Otherworld. It has great potential for misuse, should it fall into the hands of someone with less than noble goals…”

“…and Duncan stole it out from under your noses.” Not time yet to say she knew he was speaking of the harness. Maybe that would come later.

The kelpie’s nod was one of saddened guilt. “It was the night of Samhain. We guardians were on alert because for the first time in years, men had uncovered one of the portals to the Otherworld, and we feared that they would utilize the one night of the year when the veil separating us is thin enough to allow themselves entrance. All of our attention was focused outward. We never expected one of our own to take advantage of that. The traitor…this Duncan…stole the artifact, then fled past us into the human world. We had no choice but to lay chase to him.”

“But you didn’t catch him, or he wouldn’t be downstairs right now cooking our lunch.”

“No. We attempted for almost a full day to track him down, but to no avail. When we realized it would take a much longer search, we returned to our post to plan further, only to find a group of men there attempting to enter.”

Colin’s story of the witch and the first try at the controlling spell came filtering back into Buffy’s conscious, and she now understood why the attack on the Council had come from the outside. The guardians had still been in human form from their excursion into the Scottish countryside, hence the confusion on the part of the single witness who had been left.

“Those men,” the kelpie was saying, jerking Buffy back from her thoughts. “I assume…your presence came so soon after their departure…you are working with them?”

“With is kind of a strong word,” she replied. “But I did hear about the fight. Why did you kidnap the witch?”

There was no apology in its voice. “She was the best choice to learn what the men were planning,” Frank explained. “As the only female, she would be the easiest for us to lure away, and there was no mistaking the fact that she had strong magical capabilities. We thought her the most powerful one of the attackers.” It sighed. “We were wrong. She knew next to nothing. Only that they were attempting to gain control of the entrance. Nothing about the…artifact, or how they meant to profit from having access to the Otherworld.”

“So you killed her? Nice interrogation tactics.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice, and Buffy folded her arms across her chest. She was no longer afraid of a pending attack from the guardian; by divulging so much of the story, he was slowly buying her trust, and her body language showed this.

“She had served her purpose. Once we had what little information she could give us, we knew we could not leave the entrance unguarded indefinitely. It was then that we decided to separate---two of us to return to the tunnels, while the third remained in the outside world to search for the traitor and retrieve the artifact.”

Now was the time for her to give in this little information tug-of-war they were playing. “I saw him,” Buffy admitted. “Your friend. Out on the mountain. At least, I think it was him. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Duncan.”

The kelpie frowned. “What makes you so certain?”

Shifting uncomfortably in her stance, the Slayer replied, “Because I wounded it. Duncan’s never showed any sign of being that badly hurt. Unless you guys have some sort of super-healing capabilities that we don’t know about.” She waited expectantly.

“No,” it said. “So you did…kill him?” Its voice was tight, and for the first time since approaching her, the guardian showed signs of tension, regret perhaps in trusting her enough to relate his tale.

“I don’t think so,” she argued. “Yes, we did chase it. All we knew was that some creature that matched the kelpie’s description had gotten out and was running loose, chowing down on natives. You have your job? Well, mine’s pretty darn similar. I’m here to protect people from demons who do that, so when Spike and I saw it, we tried taking it out. Tried being the operative word. I got close enough to wound it, but then it took off. And when we went back the next day to try and track it down, we couldn’t find the body anywhere.”

This relaxed him, though his unease still twined through his limbs. “The traitor claimed you killed my colleague. Perhaps he was merely making an assumption.”

“Or maybe he finished the job himself.” Time to take the plunge. “The thing of it is…when we saw the kelpie, it was wearing this…harness. Made of bells. Does that…mean anything to you?”

“You saw it?” It was in her face then, crossing the distance between them before she could blink, its hands gripping her upper arms tightly.

“Let. Me. Go,” Buffy said through gritted teeth. It took more exertion than she thought imaginable; the pervasive sense of calm that swirled through her at its touch was distracting, but experience---and Spike’s warning---had told her that its power over her rested in its need for physical contact with her. This was not the time to not be in full control of her faculties.

Frank complied immediately but didn’t move, hovering just inside her personal space, staring down at her with those black pools. “You saw it?” it repeated, its voice only slightly calmer.

“Yes.” She took a small step backwards. “Is that what you’re looking for?” She already knew the answer to this; she just needed to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. So to speak.

“That is what was stolen,” it admitted, but the frown that creased its face betrayed his thoughts. “Though why my colleague should have possession of it, I don’t know.”

“Maybe he managed to get it back. Could be, he was on his way back here with it---.”

“---when you saw him.” The rest of the thought lay unspoken between them, but the accusation was clear. If Buffy and Spike hadn’t chased the kelpie on the mountain, it could very well have returned to the dungeon with the harness safely intact, leaving all three guardians still alive, and the artifact back where it belonged. Buffy flushed. Nothing like a little guilt to get the blood flow pumping.

“You said Duncan accused us of having something to do with the theft,” she said, desperate to return to the truce they had garnered. Shift it back to the bad guy. Focus his attention on that. Don’t let him dwell too much on the Slayer’s screw-up.

“He claimed that the vampire was in possession of the harness.”

Time for half-truths. “That’s ridiculous. Spike doesn’t have the harness.”

“I know.”

“Not that it matters, but you sound awfully sure of that.”

“I overheard the vampire speaking with another male down in the dungeon. He made it clear then that your group was still searching for it.”

“And we are. Still searching. Because we don’t have it.” OK, that one was a lie, but nothing in her voice or face disclosed her duplicity. She wasn’t ready yet to give away the only power card in her hand; the guardian didn’t need to know about that part just yet. “It’s not like we even cared about the stupid harness in the first place,” she added unnecessarily.

“But you’re looking for it.”

Buffy sighed. “Only in a my-boss-lied-to-me-and-I-want-to-know-why-so-I-can-beat-him-at-his-own-game sort of way. It seemed too important to too many people who didn’t want to tell us why. We couldn’t just ignore it.”

“And yet you were going to attempt the same spell to control the entrance.”

“No, we tried to close it,” she argued. “The Council---that would be the boss I mentioned---tried to trick us into doing their spell, but we figured out what they were doing in time.”

The guardian was thoughtful. “Yes,” it mused. “The traitor mentioned he had managed to arrange that.”

Well, that explained where the book came from, but… “Why would he want us to change the spell? And how did he know about it? He wasn’t with you when you did whatever to the witch, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t.” That was one of the many questions the guardian had raised in his mind when the thief had approached him in the first place. “And as for wanting the entrance closed, he asserted that he was concerned about protecting our species from outsiders, but that’s just another of his lies.”

“And you think this because…?”

“Because if I were him, I would want those who were hunting me down safely locked behind a spell that prevented them from chasing me…wouldn’t you?”

Piece by piece, it was all beginning to make crystal sense to the Slayer…clarification of what had happened to the first group to try the spell…why Duncan persisted in sticking around when he’d had the harness in his possession almost all along…most likely using Spike as a diversionary tactic to throw off the guardian…and yet, certain questions still lingered.

“How did Duncan get into the tunnel to talk to you?” Buffy asked. “There’s a spell blocking the way between it and the dungeon.”

He seemed reluctant to answer. “That was one of the…questions I myself had. Why I doubted his honesty in coming to me. When I came through and discovered the way back barred, I realized it was likely he had the harness in his control when he sought me out. It was the only way he could’ve crossed the barrier. That is one of its…side effects. It…dissolves magic.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Nice side effect,” she commented. “What else does it do?”

“No.” His denial surprised her even further. “You don’t need to know that.”

“Need…want…two sides of the same coin.”

There was no denying his vehemence as his hands clawed into themselves. “I’m not telling you,” Frank said again. “In knowledge lies power, and I am not about to arm you in such a way.”

“And here I thought we were friends.”

“We are allies. Nothing more.”

“You told me about the magic thing.”

“Because that is secondary to the harness’ true power. I suggest you let this one go, Slayer. I will not be the one to disclose what you seek.”

She stared at it, thoughts ticking behind her eyes. Fine. If Frank wanted to play that way, she had no problem with it. He didn’t share what the harness actually did, she wouldn’t share that she now had it. Balance.

“So what now?” she queried, hazel eyes calm. “Feel like ripping off harness boy’s head? I can always use a strong fighter as back-up.”

“My original plan had been to do just that, but now…”

They heard it at the same time, the steps along the stairwell behind the Slayer, and in the space of Buffy turning around to see who was there, the kelpie had changed, hair lightening, black coat smoothing into a t-shirt and jeans. It had folded its arms across its muscled chest by the time Giles stepped through from the stairs, regarding the Watcher with cool blue eyes.

“Buffy,” Giles said, surprise quirking his brow even as his gaze flickered over her shoulder. The second name that came from his lips was far less friendly. “Spike.”

She whirled to see the kelpie in her lover’s form standing behind her, the vampire’s trademark smirk curling its lips. “You mind?” it asked. “Me and Slayer were havin’ a conversation here. Private-like.”

“Where’s Xander? You didn’t abandon him in the dungeon, did you?”

Kelpie Spike snorted. “Right. I chained him to the wall and left him to fend for himself.” It tilted its head. “The boy got bored and said he was goin’ to take a nap before lunch. I was just comin’ up to let him know we should be headin’ downstairs when I ran into the Slayer here.”

“Actually, I’m rather glad that I’ve found both of you,” Giles started. “There’s something I’d like to discuss---.”

Grabbing the kelpie’s arm, Buffy dragged him past the Watcher and toward the stairs. “Can’t right now,” she shot back over her shoulder. “I need Spike to help me check something out down in the tunnel. I think I’ve found some answers for us.”

“This really shouldn’t---,” he called, but the pair was already gone, leaving the Englishman frowning behind his glasses.

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

She waited until they were down in the dungeon before whirling to face the familiar---yet not---face behind her. “How can you do that?” she asked, amazed. “Looking like Spike is one thing. Talking and acting like him is another. You totally fooled Giles.”

It tilted its head in that Spike-like way, blue eyes narrowed. “But I wouldn’t fool you,” he commented. “You’re very…attuned to the vampire, aren’t you?”

“It comes as part of the Slayer gig,” she explained. “And that’s not the point.” Her fluster creased her brow in wrinkles that were hidden by the darkness. They had only the flashlight she’d grabbed on the way down for illumination, and Buffy was doing everything she could to keep it away from her face. Don’t want to give too much away, she’d thought.

“It’s no great mystery,” the kelpie said. “I’ve had the opportunity to observe him more than once. His mannerisms and speech patterns are quite…original. It makes them simple to mimic.”

“Still…” It was confusing, a havoc in her head where her eyes were telling her one thing and her body was screaming another. By all appearances, it was Spike…the clothes, the body language, the voice, even the little cock of his brow when he’d been talking to Giles…yet she knew with every inch of her skin that it wasn’t. And it was more than the Slayer/vampire connection. Much more.

Though the superficial was there, gone was the spark that lit the vampire’s face when he spoke, the delight that managed to dance in his eyes as he took his turn in playing the joy, the smolder that emanated from his flesh whenever his gaze would settle on her. It astonished Buffy that she knew so much about Spike without even realizing it, and surprised her even more when she realized it was the spirit behind the porcelain sculpture that captivated her so. That’s how she would always be able to know him. Because there could be no copying of Spike’s heart.

“If it bothers you, I can change,” it said, and as it spoke, began to shift again, reverting to the black coat and long teeth of its true form. “I have to admit, I am curious why you align yourself with a vampire. I thought it was your duty to rid your world of them.”

“Spike’s different. He’s…not a threat to humans. And why are you asking?”

“It’s that…unusual relationship you share with him that made me believe you would listen to me. That you would be open-minded to consider my story without hastening to kill me. Like you did my colleague.”

“Hey, do I tell you how to do your job? He attacked us. We defended ourselves. End of story.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And besides, that is so not the point here. We were talking about Duncan and our next step.”

“Yes.” The return to topic sobered the guardian instantly. “When will you be attempting to close the entrance again?”

She frowned, remembering. “I think Will said tomorrow night.”

“So it should be safe to assume he will not leave until he knows it is done. That means we must find the harness before then.”

The silence in the dungeon was deafening as both remained lost in their thoughts. “If I can get you the harness,” Buffy finally ventured, “do you trust me to take care of Duncan myself?”

He regarded her with fathomless eyes. “He must not live. He cannot be trusted.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve kind of got a thing about not letting the bad guy walk away from a fight. Usually it involves some sort of dust, or slime, or some other demony substance, but you guys don’t do that, do you? You just kind of lie there.”

“And you believe you can find the harness without my aid?”

She thought about the bag hidden in the brush outside the castle. “Yeah,” she said. “Pretty sure that one’s not going to be a problem.”

“Then I will trust you. I’ll wait in the cell with the magical barrier for you to return with the harness and news that the thief is dead. You can open it then, so that I may return to my---.” His gaze flickered to the depths of the dungeon. “Your friends are returning,” he commented.

“My friends…?” Buffy started, pivoting to see two spots of light dancing along the stone wall, growing larger as they approached. She turned back to the kelpie, only to be met with emptiness, and frowned. “Now where did he go?” she mused, glancing around before shining her own torch toward the floor. Wouldn’t do to be walking around if he turned himself into a bug or something. She would’ve just stepped on her first real outside ally in this whole mess. Plus, she kind of liked these shoes. It would be a shame to ruin them because of splattered kelpie guts on the soles.

“Hey, Buff! You’re back.”

The Slayer whirled, a wide smile plastered on her face, to see Xander amble toward her, Spike close at his heels. “I’m back,” she chirped. “What’re you two doing?”

“Doing our best to escape the evil clutches of butt-numbing research demons,” Xander replied. “Is lunch ready?”

“Yeah,” she said, grabbing on to the lifeline he extended. “Lunch. Giles said you two were down here.”

“I knew it,” the young man said.

“Your bleedin’ stomach knew it,” Spike countered, coming to a stop at Buffy’s side.

His presence hit her like a wall, and the difference between him and the kelpie when it had taken his form jumped into clarity. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him, to return to a state of contact that had been promised so deliciously that morning with the bath, but she refrained, settling instead to close the distance between them so that her shoulder brushed against his. Make it look accidental, casual. Except there was nothing casual about the charges that leapt between them, even at that slight touch. And she could tell from the almost inaudible rumble in Spike’s chest that he knew it, too.

“That thing’s been growlin’ louder than a Whrontha demon for the past ten minutes,” the vamp continued, keeping his tone light. He glanced down at the Slayer. “Any luck in the search?”

“You could say that. I’ll fill you in upstairs.”

“And just wait until you hear what we found out,” Xander chimed, following the pair as they started climbing the stairs. “It’ll make your hair go white. Oh, wait, too late for Spike.”

“Very funny, Harris.”

“I’m just saying, maybe you should consider…”

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

The noon meal was done and their evening tea was simmering on the stove, bubbling and releasing tiny pockets of scents into the close air of the kitchen. Duncan could hear the voices of the group as they chattered away in the great hall; the Slayer, in particular, seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood, and he found himself musing on her capacity to hold her alcohol. She certainly doesn’t seem hung over, he thought, amusement twisting his lips. From the way the others had presented themselves that morning, he’d gotten the impression that the lot of them had tied on one the previous evening.

Not that it mattered. He’d already cornered the younger Watcher, making his excuses to leave early, claiming he didn’t feel well enough to stay on, but that dinner was cooking and all they would have to do was keep an eye on it. His excitement was building, his desire to retrieve the harness and make his escape growing, spurring him to cut his plans short. He had bought himself time by going to the guardian, and hopefully, Spike would suffer as a result. The pompous vampire deserved to be taken down a notch or two, thinking he could play in the same league as Duncan. It was all he could do not to laugh out loud as he slipped out through the pantry, into the hall, and out into the noon sunshine.

Life was good.

And about to get much, much better…

“I’ll clear,” Buffy chirped suddenly, picking up her plate as she rose from her seat at the table.

“You’ll what?” Giles frowned, perplexed and more than a little surprised at the bright offer from his protégé.

She began circling the table, taking the empty dishes and balancing them in her arms. “I said, I’ll clear,” she repeated. “Just because I don’t usually, doesn’t mean I don’t know how. And if five years of Slayer training means I can’t balance a couple plates, I’m doing something seriously wrong.” She beamed down at her Watcher as she took his dish. “Besides, I’m in a good mood, so you should take advantage of it while you can.” She stopped when she reached Spike, looking him directly in the eyes and giving him an almost imperceptible nod. “Wanna help me carry these out to the kitchen?” she asked the vamp, nothing in her voice relaying the hidden intent behind her words to anyone other than the man before her.

He didn’t hesitate. “Sure, pet,” he agreed, and shifted to his feet, relieving her of part of her burden before following her out of the room.

When they stepped through the kitchen door, however, Buffy’s smile immediately vanished, her hazel gaze sweeping the empty room, taking in the simmering pot on the stove, noting the carefully stacked utensils on the drying rack. “Where’d he go?” she asked, dropping her load unceremoniously onto the sideboard, her hand darting out to catch the top plate that threatened to fall to the floor.

Spike’s own eyes were narrowed, his mouth pursed. “Looks like the chef has flown the coop,” he said. “He the reason you were so gung ho to play housemaid back there?”

She didn’t reply, noticing instead the only other door in the room and striding determinedly over to it. With a quick yank, she revealed the empty pantry, and saw the door on the opposite wall, hurrying inside to open that one as well. “Crap,” she muttered, as she found herself gazing out onto the main hallway. “He’s left.”

“Didn’t answer my question, luv,” Spike said when she came back into the kitchen. He leaned against the sink. “What did you find out there this morning? You kept awfully mum during lunch for someone who was dying to dish down in the dungeon.”

“I didn’t want to be overheard,” she said. “Guess who’s got the harness?”

The vampire snorted. “Figures the prat was in on this whole mess,” he said. “So you think he stole it from that beastie you knifed out on the mountain?”

“I know it.” Her eyes gleamed as she stepped up to Spike, stopping just in front of him to reach out and begin playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “But he’s going to be pretty disappointed when he goes back to his hidey-hole and finds out that his cupboard is now bare.”

Pale fingers curled into her hips, pulling her closer, and the chuckle in his throat matched the smile on his face. “That’s my Slayer,” Spike murmured, feeling her thighs pressing into his. He’d been waiting all day to get his hands on her again, ever since his aborted bathtub seduction, and though the anticipation always seemed to consume him in fire, the reality of her always managed to shame that into ash.

“I got us an ally, too,” she said, looking up into his face. “And you’re never going to guess that one.”

“Who is it?”

“It turns out that Otherworld guardians come in threes.”

His grin faded. “Another guardian?” he said, hesitantly. “You mean, another kelpie with that whole animal attraction thing.” He shook his head. “Thought we got this sorted, luv. You can’t trust them. They’re trouble.”

“This one’s not.” Briefly, she explained the situation, how he’d offered her the information without forcing whatever charm he had, and how Duncan fit into the whole picture. None of it seemed to ease the vampire’s suspicion, though.

“If he’s on the up and up,” he argued, “how come he took off when Harris and I showed up?”

“Well, let’s see. Maybe the fact that you killed one of his co-workers? I think that might make me a little skittish.”

“This whole shapeshifting thing’s starting to look like a problem, if you ask me,” Spike continued. “He got your attention by lookin’ like Xander, then fooled Giles by lookin’ like me. What’s to say he’s not out there right now, posin’ as one of your friends? Maybe this is all some kelpie game, this is how they get off. Messin’ with the humans’ heads.”

“No,” she insisted. “OK, yes, it tricked me with Xander, but I totally knew it wasn’t you. And I would’ve even if I hadn’t seen him go presto change-o right before my eyes. Maybe I just wasn’t paying enough attention when he was in Xander costume. It can’t be that easy to fool us.”

He’d actually stopped listening to her after her admission that she’d seen through the guardian’s Spike disguise, the familiar rush of heat surging to his nerve endings, unconsciously strengthening his grip on her pelvis. “You…knew?” he repeated, his voice a low rumble, focusing intently on those few words.

“Well…yeah.” Buffy lowered her gaze to tentatively rest her cheek against his chest. How could she describe how it had been? Was she ready to tell him exactly why she thought she could tell? He loved her; he’d made no bones about sharing and reiterating that information now that the declaration was out there. And she knew he was waiting for her to say it back, but those were words that didn’t come easily to her mouth. She’d never been one to be all gushy with the vocalizations. Well, maybe at one time in her life. But not now. She wasn’t the innocent teenager any longer; she’d had her heart broken too many times by too many different men to just be handing it over so easily. Yes, she loved Spike, but she couldn’t drown out the voice that claimed telling him would be giving over too much of her power. And so she didn’t.

She pulled back, smiling widely up into his face, trying not to see the hope that flickered in the cerulean depths. “I mean, c’mon,” she said lightly. “How many times have you told me you’re one of a kind? That is one mold that obviously went kaplooie after they used it. You really think a demon who’s only seen you for a few minutes at a time is going to be able do an impression of you that wouldn’t come across as some Billy Idol wannabe act?” She tilted her head. “Besides, you’d be able to tell if it was trying to be me, wouldn’t you? And there is only one way to answer that, just so you know.”

He laughed, in spite of her whole circumvention of the issue, his fingers relaxing their hold. “Don’t think I’d ever be able to not tell it was you, Summers,” he teased in return.

“It’s not like Frank’s going to be Mr. Contribution anyway,” she continued.

“…Frank?”

“The guardian,” she clarified. “Apparently, kelpie names are on the hard to pronounce side, so that’s what I’m calling him.”

The reminder of the guardian brought him back to his earlier misgivings. “It’s not some puppy you’ve just brought home,” Spike argued, shaking his head. “You’re not s’posed to be naming him. I’m tellin’ you, seein’ as how it can take the shape of any one of us, it’s trouble with a capital T---.”

“And I said---.”

“Be honest with yourself, Slayer. Did you have any clue it wasn’t Xander before it changed on you?”

She looked at him, eyes solemn. “Well…no.”

“And now he’s just gone, right?”

“Well…yeah…”

“Both the Watchers left the room at least once during lunch, and Harris and his bird took an awful long time coming back down from washin’ up before we ate. Now. Can you tell me that you’re one hundred percent positive Frank’s not sittin’ out there right now, pretending to be one of your little slaymates, while the real person is knocked out somewhere in Dall Rath?”

The possibility hadn’t occurred to her, and it showed in her eyes. Though she found herself wanting to trust the guardian, Spike had a point. The only one she could be sure wasn’t the kelpie was the vampire himself; she’d proven that downstairs. Buffy hated not being able to trust her friends---or what looked like her friends---but until the guardian showed his face again, maybe it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Fine,” she said. “Point taken. But the fact remains, I made a deal with him. He agreed to let me take care of Duncan, and I’m going to take him the harness before we do the spell again tomorrow---.” Spike’s snort cut her off, and Buffy frowned. “What? Did you guys find something that explains why it didn’t work?”

“You could say that.” His voice was clipped as he told her the morning’s events, carefully omitting the fact that it was his own slip-up that revealed the truth to Xander and Anya, leaving the part about his pending fiery vampire death for last, watching as her face grew darker and darker, until…

“Giles!”

She was out the door like a shot, separating from him with the precision of a finely honed knife, the wood slamming against the stone with a resounding crack that Spike suspected meant it probably wouldn’t close properly again without some sort of maintenance. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he followed after her, the saunter in his step announcing to all his self-satisfaction in having gained such a response from her.

Buffy stopped at the head of the table, leaning forward to press both hands against the wood as she stared at the two Watchers. “When were you going to tell me?” she demanded.

Giles’ eyes darted between the Slayer and the vampire who stood just behind her shoulder, his mouth thin. “I presume Spike told you what we suspect regarding the spell for the Otherworld,” he said. “You were going to be told once lunch was finished. Once we re-grouped and had some semblance of privacy.”

“And have you completely forgotten everything that’s ever happened in Sunnydale now that you’re back on native soil?” Her pointed look at Xander was telling. “Magic and Xander go together about as good as chili dogs and chocolate sauce. Both really nice on their own, but not things you want to be mixing.”

“It’s OK, Buff, I think I’m finally coming to grips with the whole empty vessel thing.” He quirked a smile. “It’s kind of refreshing knowing my uselessness is now of the useful.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“And living on the Hellmouth isn’t? Besides, if Spike can risk turning into Sparky the Fire Dog, I think I can handle this just fine. It’s not like I have to do much.”

“Actually, we finally uncovered some information regarding the physical demands of the spell,” Giles said, and then frowned as he glanced at the wide-open kitchen door. “But perhaps we shouldn’t be discussing this right now,” he said slowly, looking purposely at Buffy.

She waved a hand in dismissal toward the kitchen. “We’re fine,” she said. “Duncan stepped out. Probably ran into town for something for supper.”

“Um…actually, he’s gone for the day,” Colin interjected. He quavered under the Slayer’s direct gaze. “He…said he…wasn’t feeling well. I told him he could go home early.” When there was a collective gasp from the sitting females at the table, he jumped.

“But we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye,” Willow complained, her lip jutting into a tiny pout. Both Anya and Tara quickly nodded in support.

Buffy frowned at the unexpected responses from her friends. “So? You’ll just see him tomorrow anyway,” she said.

“No, pet, she won’t.” Spike folded his arms across his chest as the Slayer swiveled to look at him. “Today was ole’ Dunc’s last day. Just ask Junior.”

The reality of what that meant took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Buffy’s mouth tightened, her eyes steeled as she locked gazes with the vampire. No longer around meant harder for her to find, to kill before he disappeared for good and she was left with a rogue kelpie loose in her world. Except…he didn’t have the harness anymore. Would he run without it? Or would he figure out where it had went and come back for it? Either way, she didn’t like it. He was a loose cannon, and that made her nervous.

“Well, since we don’t have to worry about unwanted interruptions then,” Giles was saying, “why don’t we go over what we discovered?” He rose from his seat, pushing his glasses up his nose, and crossed to a stack of books on the floor nearby. “It’s actually not as bad as we feared.”

Whirling on her heel, Buffy had begun marching for the door even before the Watcher had risen, the vampire close behind. “Does Spike still end up toast?” she shot out as she pulled it open.

“Well, yes, but---.”

“Then it’s not good enough.” And just like that, they were both gone.

“Where is she going?” Giles asked to no one in particular.

“I must say,” Colin mused, amused at the older man’s befuddlement, “it’s rather enjoyable not being the only one she flouts authority with.” At Giles’ furious glare, he shrugged. “I was just saying.”

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

He caught up to her just before she reached the weapons cache, his long hand wrapping around her elbow to jerk her to a halt. “What’re you plannin’?” Spike asked, as she looked up at him.

“I’ve got a kelpie to kill,” she said grimly.

He recognized the dangerous tone in her voice. This was a Slayer who was past playing games, quippy young woman gone only to be replaced by the deadly machine who now stood before him. Though he’d seen this all-business side of her often enough over the past few years, her lethal grace when she was so focused still managed to arouse his senses, sparking those memories of his own vicarious kills, inciting the demon within to fight for control. His blue eyes flashed with hints of gold.

“You shouldn’t go on your own,” he warned. “What if he decides to play dirty with the charm business? Who’s goin’ to watch your back then?”

“Slayer here, remember? I watch my own back. Besides, I patrol every night on the Hellmouth by myself. I think I can handle one too-oily horse demon.”

“Oh, really?” His arm dropped. “That why you let the one down in the dungeon buck you off like some second-rate rodeo clown? Don’t think I’m just goin’ to stand aside and watch you go ridin’ off into the sunset just to get yourself killed. All it’s goin’ to take is one of his hands on you---hell, all it takes is one bloody finger---and that’s it. He’ll slip that knife into your back so fast you’ll never see it comin’.”

“You honestly don’t think I can take him out?”

“I know you can, as long as you have somebody watchin’ to make sure he keeps his bloody touch away. Believe it or not, bein’ a bird in this instance is a serious handicap because of that luring thing he does.” His eyes softened, desperate to get her to understand. “I’m not talkin’ about keeping you from doin’ your job. That’s not what I meant. But watchin’ your back means more than just fighting at your side. It means lettin’ you do what it takes while makin’ sure whatever’s on the other end of your fist doesn’t come through with some secret mojo that bollocks the whole thing up.”

Buffy tilted her head. “You just don’t want me to fight with Duncan because you want a piece of him yourself,” she observed. “That’s why you’re stopping me here.”

Spike began pacing the width of the corridor, never taking his eyes from the young woman before him. “OK, I’ll admit it. I want to get this wanker just as badly as you do,” he said, “but I’m not prepared to be losin’ you in the process. Not after everything. Not after I finally---.”

Her voice was low. “You finally…what?”

Spike’s nostrils flared, the turmoil seething below his skin in thunderous waves. For a moment, he debated how much more to reveal. It wasn’t as if any of it was just one huge secret anymore, but still…would it scare her away? She had yet to make any avowal of her own…Ah, the hell with it, he thought, and rushed the rest forth.

“You think fallin’ in love with you had something to do with the Scottish air?” he asked. “Think again. It was there when we were on the plane. It was there when Captain Cardboard and his little goof troop shoved this chip up my brain. Hell, it was there down in bloody South America. Why do you think Dru left me? ‘Cause of you. ‘She’s all around you,’” he mimicked, rolling his eyes. “In my head. In my blood. In my dreams. I hadn’t had a decent sleep in months ‘til that night you let me hold you in that soddin’ bed upstairs.” Spike stopped, stepping toward her, eyes dark. “So if you think for a blinkin’ second I’m just goin’ to wave all that adios while you go out bein’ all Chosen, you’re even thicker than Harris is.” One hand came up to brush an imaginary hair away from her forehead. “I love you, Buffy. I’m just…askin’ you to be careful, is all.”

Her heart threatened to burst from her ribcage, the palms of her hands suddenly slick with sweat. “I’m always careful,” she said, her voice barely audible. “And the last thing I want is for all this to go away, so trust me when I say, nothing’s going to happen.” There was suddenly no moisture in her mouth, and the room began to sway around her. Give him something, she thought. Even if you can’t say it, you have to give him something.

“You think you’re the only one with something to lose here? That I would risk losing…us, by being careless or reckless?” she asked, the faintest of quivers vibrating her words. “You have no idea how free I’ve felt over the past few days. Well, except for the whole not telling my friends part of the deal. But even then…it’s like this door has finally been opened to me. One that’s been locked up in forever. And that’s because of you, Spike.”

He knew by her determined need to keep her gaze averted from his that she wasn’t going to say, and though it hardly surprised him, the vampire found himself oddly hurt that she was having such difficulty uttering the words. Yes, they were there, and yes, she was going to admit to needing him, to wanting him, to being fearful of losing him, but prying that small little sentence from her lips was going to take more than the possible threat of a kelpie’s charm. He would just have to be patient. Not his strongest suit, but for Buffy, he would do it. Even if it meant waiting forever.

“But you’re going to go anyway.” There was no question in his voice; this was a battle he knew he’d lost. And all because the bleedin’ daylight kept him from following her out there himself.

“It’s my job. But I’ll make you a deal.” She stepped back, turning towards the weapons cache. “If Duncan’s not at the cave, I’ll come straight back here. Odds are, once he realizes it’s gone, he’ll come looking for it anyway, and we can just have our little showdown here instead of out on the mountain. That’s another reason for you to stay, outside of the fact that you kind of have to because of the whole sunlight issue. You’re my back line of defense if he tries to pull anything dangerous.”

Somehow, the thought of getting the chance to give the cook a piece of his fist brought a smile to Spike’s face, and his shoulders relaxed as he watched her step into the cache. “You’ll come right back?” he asked. “No dawdling.”

“Yes, Mother,” she called out.

“And I’ve got full permission to use whatever means necessary to stop the blighter?”

“That’s what I said.”

His grin widened. Slayer probably had a point about the cook coming back to the scene of the crime when he realized the harness was gone. She’d be perfectly fine. As long as she kept her distance, she’d…

“Take a long-range weapon!” he instructed with a frown.

She emerged from the cache, a crossbow in her hand, her eyes amused as she shook her head at the blond vamp. “You’re as bad as Giles,” she admonished. “Something tells me I’m going to have two overprotective Englishmen haranguing me every step I take, when I get back to Sunnydale.”

He watched as she brushed past, heading toward the front door of the castle. “Whaddaya expect me to say to the Watchers? ‘Buffy got bored so she decided to take a little stroll? Oh, by the way, she plans on doin’ in the cook. Hope you don’t mind.’”

She stopped, hesitating. “Tell them I need to double-check something I found this morning,” she said. “I shouldn’t be gone for more than an hour.” She thought about it for a moment. “Walk there, kill me a kelpie, walk back. Yeah. An hour tops. But don’t say a word about Duncan or the guardian just yet. I’ve got a feeling they wouldn’t believe you anyway.”

Spike was left in silence when she disappeared through the door. “Got that same feelin’, pet,” he muttered.

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

He knew as soon as stepped into the cave that she’d been there. Even if he hadn’t noticed the differences in the packed dirt, the smell of her perfume still hung in the air, cloying and too human, and for the first time since meeting her, Duncan felt disgust and anger at the Slayer. That’s what she’d been doing out all morning. And him, playing the smug fool, had assumed he was now free and clear, leaving the harness where he couldn’t protect it directly.

Though he was at the back of the cave as quickly as his feet could carry him, he knew before he searched the nook that it was gone. There was no way Buffy would come to such lengths and not be able to find it; it wasn’t as if he’d buried it along with the bodies. The bodies…

His black eyes fell to the ground, and the realization that she now knew the truth about him, would most likely warn her friends now that he was no longer at Dall Rath, brought the depth of his situation clear. No way was he going to give up now, not after coming so far. The harness was his; he’d stolen it, fair and square, and no too-skinny, too-blonde, too-perky Slayer was going to take it away from him.

The problem was, he couldn’t go back for it. Not now. She would be ready, waiting for him, probably with that damn vampire right behind her, all too prepared to tear his throat out if he dared lay a foot inside the castle. The only thing he had going in his favor was the fact that the guardian would be after Spike as well, but Duncan knew he couldn’t rely on that. The guardians weren’t exactly known for their propensity for venturing from the tunnels; that was one reason why he’d been so shocked when they’d actually followed him out into the human world on the night of Samhain.

But this was about the harness. They would want to protect it, no matter what the cost. Maybe that would be enough.

Regardless, he needed another plan of attack. Another avenue of retrieving the harness without tipping the Slayer’s attention. Something she wouldn’t expect.

As he heard the distant rumble of thunder begin rolling over the countryside, Duncan’s eyes lit on the ground at his feet, his shoe scuffing at the loose earth, and the scheme began to merge, the pieces slotting together into a twisted picture that brought an angry smile to his lips. Yes. That would work. And with the rainstorm on its way, it would probably buy him just enough time to get it off the ground.

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

It had started almost inaudibly, a gentle patter against the stonework that sounded like a soft hug, but by the time Spike had returned from heating up another mugful of blood, it had begun to pelt in earnest, hammering against the outer walls as if every drop was trying to drill its way inside.

“Slayer’s goin’ to be in a lovely mood when she gets back,” the vampire remarked wryly, glancing up at the window before settling into his chair.

“She’ll just turn around, won’t she?” asked Colin.

Giles shook his head. “She’s patrolled in weather like this before. If it’s important enough, she’ll follow it through, regardless of a little rain.”

Spike’s derisive snort cut through the air. “You’ve been livin’ in Sunny Cal too long, Rupert. This one’s goin’ to be a pisser of a storm. You can smell it in the air. No way Buffy’s been out in one like this before.”

“And since when did you become the expert on Buffy’s slaying habits?” Giles demanded, pulling off his glasses as he turned in his chair to glare at the blond vamp. “Or the keeper of her back, for that matter? Really, Spike, this new bend your attitude is taking around her is completely out-of-hand. Take that little outburst of yours earlier, for example. How dare you assume I would allow anything to happen to Buffy that she wouldn’t be able to cope with?”

Spike lowered his head, looking at the older man through his lashes, clicking his tongue in reproval. “Not nice to lie, Rupes,” he drawled, a hint of anger tingeing his tone. “You forget. I’ve bunked extensively in your little flat. Watchers who don’t want to be caught out shouldn’t leave their precious little diaries around where just anybody can pick the lock and read them.”

Giles’ eyes widened. “You…didn’t…” he hissed, and rose to his feet.

The vampire rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Like you’re shocked and disappointed? Do we really need to go into the whole Big Bad theory again?”

“Rupert…” Colin half-stood, leaning forward to look up into the other Watcher’s face. “Perhaps now is not the best time for this discussion.”

“No, I think now is the perfect time.” His voice was cold, hard, his blue eyes blazing as he dropped his glasses onto the table, not even glancing back to acknowledge Colin’s increased presence. “It’s time Spike is reminded that his involvement with the Slayer is a temporary arrangement.”

Slowly, the vampire set the mug down on the floor beside his chair, freeing his hands as he stood up. “Sounds like you’ve got something you’d like to say to me,” he dared, eyes dark. “Shouldn’t bottle those kind of feelings up, Rupes. Not good for the digestion.”

“Actually, repression can be a good thing,” Willow chirped, but the smile faded from her face when she realized neither Englishmen was paying her any attention.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” Giles said, “but pretending to care about Buffy’s welfare is most likely one of the slimiest turns you’ve taken since returning to Sunnydale to torture us with your continued presence. This will not garner her favor, Spike, nor will it garner mine.”

“Not that I’m not one for bein’ all for the garnishing, but who says I’m pretending?”

Willow’s eyes went wide. He was going to tell. Oh god, where was Buffy when you needed her? He was going to let it all out, and Buffy was going to be so pissed. Come back, Buffy, she thought frantically. Come. Back. Now.

“You shouldn’t even be situated in our lives this closely in the first place, able to play your sick games whenever you choose. You may be an ally to her now, but once this entire matter is resolved, we will return to the Hellmouth, and you will no longer be a part of her life. Do you understand?” Ice could’ve been chipped from his voice, and his eyes glinted even paler in the dimming light of the great hall.

There was no denying the danger wound through Giles’ body, and it was mirrored by the menace in Spike’s, the vampire’s hands balling into fists at his sides. “What I understand,” he said slowly, doing everything in his power to keep control, “is that you don’t know your Slayer as well as you think you do. I suggest that if you’ve got a problem with whatever relationship you think you’re seein’ between me and Buffy, you try talkin’ to her about it. ‘Cause tellin’ me to back off is the surest way to get me…not to.” His nostrils flared, and he allowed the smirk to twist his lips. This was Buffy’s tale to tell, but God, he was going to enjoy this while he could. “Face it, I’m here, the Slayer likes it, and this is her call to make. ‘Sides, what do you think the chances of her getting overly chummy with a vamp are, anyway…?” He broke it off as he feigned remembering. “Oh, wait a minute. Did I forget about Peaches?” The smile he offered the Watcher was malicious. “My mistake.”

“Guys, guys.” Before either man could register the third’s arrival, Xander was smiling at their sides, laying a hand on each of their shoulders, pulling them apart so that several feet stood between them. “This is just a failure to communicate we’re having here. Or at least, the wrong kind of communicate. We’re all just a little tense. Roughing it, both of you having to sleep on the cold stone floor. Blood sugar’s probably a little low from the serious lack of donuts around this place. Why don’t you two go do a couple laps? Get some of that tension out of your systems.”

Both men turned puzzled frowns to Xander, whose smile only grew wider, although now from slight embarrassment. “Hey, it always worked for Coach Marin. Of course, he did end up getting attacked and eaten by his own swim team, but…that’s so not the point.” He clapped their shoulders firmly in good will. “Spike’s not on a human diet anymore, and the closest thing Giles has gotten to cannibalism is that blood pudding I’ve seen lurking around in the back of his fridge, so we’re all safe here, right?”

“Do you have a soddin’ point, Harris?”

“His point, as circuitous the route he is taking to make it appears to be,” Giles said through gritted teeth, “is that we’re all on the same team for the time being, and should behave appropriately.”

“Wow,” said Xander, his pleasure lighting his amiable face. “And here I thought I was just breaking up a fight between two of my friends.”

It took a moment for the younger’s choice of words to reach through Spike’s receding anger, and his frown lessened, his head tilting as he gazed at him curiously. He’d said…friend? When in bloody hell did that happen? And why wasn’t he given a say in the matter?

“We should really be concentrating on reviewing the physical requirements of the spell with Spike and Xander,” Colin interjected, taking advantage of the lull to bring the focus back to the task at hand. “With only twenty-four hours until our next opportunity, it’s important everyone is up-to-date.”

“Right,” the vampire drawled, and turned his head back to face Giles. “Toss you for who fills in the Slayer when she gets back,” he offered.

“Spike,” Xander warned. “Play nice.”

Spike shrugged, stepping away to drop back into his chair. “He’d probably land on his tail anyway,” he said, reaching for his mug. “No fun in that.”

“So,” said Colin with a forced smile. “Where were we?”

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

They each bent their heads against the wind as they battled their ways to the waiting car, Riley automatically stepping back to allow Quentin to slide into the back seat first, even though it meant getting even more soaked from the driving rain. Sometimes, old habits were just impossible to break.

As soon as they were settled, the chauffeur turned around and handed a mobile phone to Travers. “There’s been a call waiting for you, sir,” he explained. “I’ve lost the signal once or twice due to the storm, but he’s called back each time. He says it’s urgent he speak with you.”

“Who is it?” Quentin asked, his brow furrowed as he raised the phone to his ear.

“It’s Mr. Hornbrook, sir…”

An hour. Who had she been kidding? OK, maybe an hour if the weather hadn’t decided to thoroughly hate her and go from normal Scottish overcast to full-blown raging thunderstorms in what seemed to be thirty seconds flat. Soaking her through before she could even think about turning around. Not that she would’ve anyway. Not when she had a kelpie to kill. But still…it would’ve been nice to be warned. Maybe she would’ve brought an umbrella.

Buffy almost laughed as she bent her head against the driving rain. An umbrella. Right. Like it would’ve lasted two seconds in this wind. For a moment, fantasies of what it would’ve been like to be Mary Poppins, floating along the air with an umbrella as her sole support, distracted the Slayer from the discomfort of the icy wet, but those quickly dissipated as her foot got stuck in yet another unseen hole in the heather, her shoe squelching around the mud as she stopped to disentangle herself. This cold and the ground’s not frozen? she thought grumpily. Of course, if it had been, chances are she would’ve pulled the same twist trick with her ankle, only this time, she wouldn’t have Spike around to carry her back to the castle. Not that that hadn’t been its own kind of fun.

With a grimace, she tilted her foot, looking down at her ruined boot and wistfully remembering the worry she’d had about getting Frank squished along its bottom. That would’ve been a salvageable mess, rather than the squishy disaster that was now her lowermost limb. Yuck.

The only thing that was cheering her at the moment was the thought that most likely Duncan was stuck wading through this same storm. If she had to be miserable, it was only fair that the bad guy had to be as well. Or, even better, he was waiting it out in the Kelpie Cave, making him easy pickings for her to dispatch once she finally got there. If she ever got there. At the rate she was going, Buffy wondered if it might not have been better to stay back at the castle and wait until sundown for Spike to accompany her. At least then, she’d have somebody to talk to along the way.

Then there it was, looming in front of her like an open wound in the side of the mountain, and the Slayer knew automatically that she was too late. He’d made no attempt to hide the entrance this time, which could only mean he had left in a hurry. Probably pissed. But pissed meant more likely to make a mistake---at least she hoped so---and by all rights, it should be easier for her to track him now.

She stopped, lifting her head to stare around her, watching as the charcoal clouds flashed in brilliance as lightning danced through the air. The heather bowed in the wind, flattened to the earth against its power, and she had to blink more than once to clear her lashes of the rain that kept blinding her vision. She turned around once…twice…and was halfway through a third revolution when she saw the dark shadow on the horizon. It could’ve been anything, but in light of her current choice lackage, Buffy wasn’t going to ignore it, especially since it seemed to be moving. Away from her. Which meant…run.

Each step seemed to sink into the earth, dragging her pace, the weapon slung along her back jostling into her spine as she fought to maintain her balance without losing too much speed. Whatever it was---whoever it was---it was moving along at a good clip, and though the Slayer was faster, it was taking far too long to cover the distance between them, the storm doing everything in its power to slow her down. It was still impossible to recognize it, and Buffy found herself wanting to give up, when fate smiled, turning her target toward her, its dark head bent, its eyes glowing in familiar luminescence through the rain.

Duncan. It had to be.

A bittersweet flood of relief powered her legs to quicken, her arms to pump harder. This would all be worth it if she could just get close enough to use the crossbow. One shot and it would all be…

The wind hid its approach behind her until it was nearly abreast, and Buffy faltered as she glanced over and saw the familiar shape of a kelpie in its horse form suddenly galloping along her side. Her head jerked back up to her quarry, brow furrowing, before whipping back to her newfound companion.

“Frank?” she yelled into the wind.

From somewhere in the horse’s long neck, a voice seemed to rumble, and briefly, Buffy flashed on Mr. Ed when she saw its lips move. “The thief is mine, Slayer,” he said, and veered sideways, brushing against her with its powerful flank, sending her tumbling into the heather in a tangle of wet as it strengthened its pursuit of the other kelpie.

She was back on her feet in an instant, swiping at the mud on her face, and resumed the chase with a growing sense of annoyance. Great. So Spike had been half-right. So much for putting her trust in the guardian. The only good thing about getting interrupted like this was at least she didn’t have to worry any more if any of her friends were actually demons in disguise. She had both of them in her sights right now. And she was closing in on them fast.

Duncan turned then, and this time, the pair was close enough for their presence to register through the violence of the storm. For a moment, she saw his eyes widen in fear, then steel coldly as he reached around, his hand disappearing from view, only to return a moment later to send whatever he had retrieved scattering into the wind.

She saw the tiny blades come slicing through the air, but noticed with growing alarm when the guardian didn’t. “Frank!” Buffy yelled as she dove to the ground. “Duck!”

Facing into the wind meant her words were carried behind her faster than they traveled forward, and the kelpie heard the warning just a fraction too late, grunting in pain as the knives embedded themselves in its flesh. It stumbled, buckling to its front knees, the coppery scent of blood joining with the flowering aromas that already permeated the air, its hold on its equine shape faltering so that it seemed to dissolve into blackness before her eyes.

A grim Slayer sat up, whipping the crossbow from its sling on her back, arming and bringing it up to shoot before her partner could react. Slinging through the air, the arrow was buffeted by the wind, but training had honed her aim to a deadly missile, and though it veered slightly astray, it still managed to meet its mark, sinking deep into the shoulder of the fleeing Duncan.

He stopped, screaming, his hand reaching around to clutch at the wood buried in his back, furious eyes whipping around to stare at the girl as she hurried to the guardian’s side. As the cook pulled it from the wound, his face contorted from the pain, shifting from one mask to another before returning to his true visage as a kelpie.

“I can see I underestimated you,” Duncan snarled into the storm, staunching the flow of blood with his hand.

Quickly, Buffy scanned the prone form of the guardian, assessing the severity of his wounds before rising to her feet. They were superficial; he’d live. Right now, she had to finish what she’d started.

“Yeah,” she agreed, as she slowly closed the distance between her and Duncan. “You’d be surprised how often I still get that. I think it’s the blonde hair. Oh, wait. Do they have dumb blonde jokes in the Otherworld?”

He was backing up as she neared, trying to keep himself as far away from her as possible, eyes darting between her determined face and the weapon still dangling from her hand. “For some reason, I always thought this would come down to me and Spike,” he noted, trying to keep his voice level. “He’s the only one among you who’s been intelligent enough from the beginning to even suspect me.”

“He is kind of smart that way,” Buffy said, and stopped, lifting the crossbow back into her arms. “But I’m the one who’s going to kill you.”

“Why bother?” he hissed. “I don’t even have the harness any more. You’ve got it.”

The Slayer shrugged. “I don’t like you,” she commented, and tightened her finger. “And I hate loose ends.”

“You have it?”

Though the guardian’s voice from behind her didn’t scare Buffy, it did catch her attention just enough to jerk her arm in a movement so minuscule an onlooker wouldn’t even have noticed, allowing the arrow to veer right of its target. Duncan seized the opening, diving forward, avoiding the missile to go sliding in the mud and heather. She rolled out of his path, tucking into a ball as she held her weapon clear, jumping to a vertical position several feet closer to the wounded Frank.

His eyes glowed up at her in anger. “You lied to me, Slayer,” the guardian growled.

“Not a lie,” she said, shaking her head. “Just a careful omission of certain facts.” Her body whirled instinctively, the heel of her boot connecting with Duncan’s jaw, sending him reeling backward. “And don’t try sneaking up on me again,” she said to the ex-cook. “It makes me cranky.”

“When were you going to tell me?” Frank asked. “Or were you going to double-cross me with that, as well?”

Buffy turned amazed eyes back to the wounded kelpie. “Hello? Who was the one who didn’t want to be all chatty about what the harness actually does? I am so not the only one with cross issues here. And what the hell are you doing showing up like this? I told you I’d take care of him.” She saw his gaze flicker behind her and lashed back, feeling her foot meet the other kelpie’s chest and knocking him to the ground.

“He is mine to kill.”

Her telling gaze swept over the wounds that peppered his flesh and she shook her head. “You should’ve trusted me. He’d be dead now, and you wouldn’t be a pincushion.”

Lightning flashed, followed almost instantaneously by thunder, and Buffy found her senses temporarily overwhelmed, blinded by the sudden brilliance, deafened by the clap so close to her ear. It was almost as if she stood briefly in limbo, caught in a Scottish no-mans-land. Except…she wasn’t alone.

Before the thunder had dissipated, his hand wrapped around her ankle, his grip slick in blood and rain. “Drop the weapon,” Duncan said.

Her body obeyed before she could get the thought out---he’s touching me­---into the too-calm ether of her consciousness, and she could only watch as he smashed the crossbow beneath his free fist. “Let…go…” she struggled to say.

The cook chuckled, yanking viciously to send her sprawling into the heather. “I don’t think so,” he said gleefully. “And you don’t really want me to…do you…”

And suddenly, she didn’t, staring back at the kelpie’s dark face as he slid his way up her body, hands running along her arms, gripping her biceps in a force that would’ve crushed a normal human. This was just Duncan, she thought peacefully, and it wasn’t as if he’d really done anything horribly wrong. And she did have the harness. Killing him wasn’t totally…

When his teeth sank into her shoulder, Buffy’s back arched in pain, tiny slivers of white-hot daggers bearing down onto the joint, cutting through the muscles, grinding into the bones…

And then he was gone, and she was blinking up into the rain, trying to discern which shadow belonged to which kelpie, seeing the glint off the knives that were still embedded in Frank’s flesh as he grappled with the Otherworld thief only to be forced away when Duncan wrenched himself free. She struggled to rise against the torrent of pain consuming her shoulder, but just sank back onto the ground, feeling the blood dripping down her arm as it refused to support her weight. Damn Duncan, she thought. And god, am I going to get a boatload of “I told you so’s” from Spike when I get back.

The fight between the two kelpies was brief, both of them too hurt to battle effectively for very long. It ended when Duncan grabbed the remains of the crossbow from the ground and shoved a handful of arrows into Frank’s leg, sending him back to the sodden earth to writhe in pain. As Buffy watched, the thief smiled, or tried to, and gave her a tiny salute with his good arm.

“It’s been lovely,” he said, his voice slightly garbled from pain. “But I really must run now. And my apologies if I’m not looking forward to having to do this again.”

“That’s OK,” the Slayer replied through gritted teeth, rolling onto her side in a delicate flourish that sent him skittering away. “Next time I see you, you’re going to be wishing I’d killed you this time.”

She could only watch him turn and run, her own body incapable of following at the moment, and slowly, Buffy swiveled her head to look at the fallen guardian, its eyes closed. Wiping at the hair that lay plastered to her cheeks, she called out, “Frank? You better be alive over there because if you’re not, I swear I’m going to kill you.”

There was a long stretch of near-silence where the only sounds on the mountain came from the wind whistling past her ears and the rain spattering the soil. “Perhaps next time,” Frank finally said, lying almost completely immobile, his voice calm, “we should confer on a plan of attack ahead of time.”

She laughed, in spite of the waves of pain washing over her. “Yeah,” she agreed. “And maybe next time, you can tell me that you plan on tagging along.” She stumbled to her feet, and weaved across the heather to where Frank lay. “Thanks for the save, by the way,” she said, extending her good hand to him.

Though he looked worse for wear, his grip when it took hers was strong, and Buffy had to brace herself as he pulled himself up. His dark eyes flickered over her injury before returning to her face. “You need to get that bandaged,” he warned.

“So do you.”

He frowned. “You would…do that for me?”

Buffy started to shrug, then stopped, grimacing from the sharp needles that shot through her torso. “Sure, why not?” she said, turning to begin the trek back to the castle. “We’re on the same team here, remember?”

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

The third time he left the great hall, Willow followed after him, catching up to the vampire as he stood in the front doorway of the castle, staring out at the rain. “It’s like a watched pot,” she said. “She’s not going to get back until we stop looking for her.”

Spike was oblivious to the redhead’s comment. “Think the rain will put out any flames the bloody daytime will cause?” he asked, head tilting so that he could gaze up at the clouds. “That should stop me from combustin’, I should think.”

It was actually an interesting proposal, and the witch found herself pondering it for almost thirty whole seconds before she realized how silly she was being, and shook her head as if to clear it. “And you wonder why Giles is wigging on you?” she demanded from the blond vampire. “Hello? You’ve got worried boyfriend tattooed all over your face. I mean, you’re in, you’re out, you’re up, you’re down, and now you’re standing here debating if you can count on a storm to make you flame-retardant so that you can go out and find Buffy?” She took a deep breath. “She’s a big girl, Spike. She can take care of herself.”

“Fat lot you know,” he muttered. “You’ve been charmed, too.”

Willow’s brow creased in a confused frown. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “I thought you said she was just being checkout girl. Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Glancing back at her, Spike debated for a moment, wishing he could just blab the whole thing without having to worry if it was one of those kelpie demons getting more of their secrets under their belt. It took him only seconds to decide, and with a tilt of his head, he turned toward the witch, reaching forward to take a large section of her arm between his fingers and squeezing hard.

“Ow!” Willow cried out, yanking back and away from his pinch. She rubbed at her flesh as an echoing yelp came from Spike. “What did you do that for?” she demanded.

“Had to make sure,” he said through gritted teeth, shaking his head against the pain.

“Of what? That you’re a big ol’ bully who just wants to be mean whenever he feels like it?”

“No. That you’re actually Red…Red.”

That surprised her, and she stared at him dumbly. “Being in love is making you weird, Spike,” she said slowly. “Let’s say, we go back to the hall, sit down, maybe enjoy some ancient Celtic history over a cup of nice warm blood, and forget all of this ever happened, OK?”

As she turned to leave, the vampire grabbed her arm, forcing her look at him. “Buffy went out to kill Duncan,” he explained. “He’s been a part of this whole mess from day one. And her not bein’ back yet does not bode well for her success, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s absurd. Why would Buffy kill Duncan?”

Spike sighed. For a brief moment, he was jealous of the cook, of his ability to just talk to the girls and have them believe him, no matter what. It would certainly make explaining the current situation a helluva lot easier, and he wouldn’t have to put up with the never-ending third degree that always seemed to follow him around, no matter which of the Scoobies he was dealing with. “Prat’s one of those bloody kelpies,” he said, trying to keep the impatience out of his tone. “He’s been charming you birds ever since he set foot in this place. Buffy finally sussed him out, found where he was hiding the harness---.”

“Duncan has the harness?”

“Had. Slayer got it out of his slimy little clutches without him knowing about it when she was out this morning. And was goin’ to take care of him after lunch, but the sneaky wanker made a runner for it.” He turned to gaze out into the driving rain, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “I swear, if he’s hurt her in any way, I’m goin’ to rip his soddin’ heart out and shove it up his---.”

“Spike, get back in the great hall. Now.”

The vampire didn’t move. “Bugger off, Rupert.”

The young witch stepped back as the approaching Watcher stopped short of the doorway. His mouth was set as he glanced down at her. “Please return to the research, Willow,” he instructed. “I have a few words I’d like to say to Spike.”

Spike snorted. “How much you wanna bet some of those words are goin’ to be includin’ stake, dust, or ‘over my dead body?’” he directed at the redhead before returning to his former position, fixing his azure gaze on the tableau outside the entrance.

“Maybe we should all go back---.”

“Now, Willow.” A slight pause. “Please.” There was no room for negotiation in his voice, and Giles waited until the two men were alone, watching as Willow retreated down the hallway, before speaking again. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?” he asked of the vampire, folding his arms over his chest.

Spike shrugged. “I dunno. Just something about a good Scottish storm, really gets my blood goin’.” His tone was light, but there was no mirth in his face, and the vamp’s knuckles went even paler where they gripped the doorframe.

“I am in no mood for your feeble attempts at levity.” The Watcher took a step closer. “Answer my question. What are you doing out here?”

For a brief moment, he contemplated playing the snark card again, biting back with his customary snide remark, but worry and exhaustion were eating at the vampire’s guts, shortening his fuse and settling his mind before he’d even realized it. “Lookin’ out for Buffy,” he admitted. “She should’ve been back already.”

Although it was the answer he was expecting to hear, once he was confronted with it, Giles hesitated, fear tempering his tone as he stumbled over his next query. “Do…you…have feelings for Buffy?”

Spike cocked his eyebrow. “Hello? Vampire here, remember? And she’s the Slayer. ‘Course I’ve got feelings for her. It’s called hate, loathing, and the desire to kill. You know, the usual odds and sods.” His head tilted, eyes glittering. “Isn’t that what you keep sayin’ that’s all us vamps are capable of, Rupert?” Not my place to tell, he intoned silently. She’ll be pissed as hell if I spill on this one. At least with the boy not bein’ invited, that can get explained away. This, though…

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then you better elaborate, ‘cause…” His voice trailed away, his body stiffening, as a random movement from outside captured Spike’s attention. Blue eyes narrowed, peering through the rain, and all thought of the man at his side vanished from his head. When the scent of blood drifted in on the prevailing wind, every hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his nerves prickling in sudden fear. Buffy. Hurt. And getting closer.

Giles saw the change come over the vampire, and stepped up beside him, following his gaze out into the storm. It was the outline of the two pale bodies emerging from the gale that diverted his awareness from the argument at hand, pushing him out into the wet, scooping his arm underneath Buffy’s to aid her in the final few feet to the doorway. Neither man took notice of her companion as she slumped against the jamb, both of them locked on the teeth marks that peppered her shoulder.

“Is dinner ready?” Buffy asked feebly, her face wan as she attempted to smile. “Because I’m starved.”

As she took a step across the threshold, the Slayer’s knee buckled, causing her to lurch sideways, only being prevented from falling by Spike’s rapidshot arm around her waist. “Bloody told you so,” he muttered, blue eyes riveted to the exposed skin of the bite, watching as the blood that had already started to clot begin to run free again, dripping leisurely down her skin in scarlet stripes.

Pulling herself back to stand unaided, Buffy glanced at the dark-haired man still hovering in the entrance. “Ten seconds,” she said with a smirk. “I win.”

For the first time, Giles took notice of the fourth in the party, his frown deepening as he saw the blood-stained shirt sticking to the man’s chest. “What happened?” he queried as he ushered him inside. “Were you attacked by another…” He broke off, reluctant to finish the question, glancing worriedly back at his charge.

Her hand fluttered in dismissal. “It’s OK,” she assured. “Frank knows all about---.”

It was the name that did it. Before she could finish the sentence, Spike had grabbed the unsuspecting guardian, now in human form, and slammed him against the stone wall, holding him in place by drilling his forearm against the creature’s neck. “Told her you lot were trouble,” he growled into the kelpie’s face. It wasn’t struggling, merely bracing himself against the power of the vampire’s assault, its face blank in its calm. “Not that she bloody well listens to me, and now she’s got your little dentureprint to prove it.”

“Spike!” Despite her injured state, the vehemence in Buffy’s voice was enough to startle all three of the men, and the vamp turned his cerulean gaze to her furious aspect. “Frank saved me. Let him go!”

Though his face was a livid mask, the vamp’s response was immediate, dropping his arm to stand back from the kelpie. The menace remained, though, and Spike locked gazes with the other demon, folding his arms across his chest as Frank composed himself, stretching his neck as if to clear his throat of some unseen blockage. “Was this before or after he had himself an all-you-can-eat Buffy?” he asked, eyeing her shoulder.

“It wasn’t him. I found Duncan.”

“Duncan? What in blazes does he have to do with anything? And why didn’t Spike’s chip go off?” Giles’ confusion stippled his voice, his pale eyes darting between the three.

Buffy sighed, a long exhalation that was more indicative of her mental exhaustion than physical, and silently wished she didn’t have to do this right now. “It’s such a long story, Giles. Do we have to go into this right now?”

“The Slayer needs tending,” Frank said firmly.

“You do, too,” she said to the guardian. “Duncan shoved a fistful of arrows into your leg.”

“It seems you both do,” the Watcher corrected. “Come into the great hall. You can tell me what happened while we clean out those injuries.”

Her moue almost made Spike smile in kind. “Have you seen my clothes, Giles?” she asked, her voice plaintive. “C’mon, I look like I mudwrestled a grizzly. Bath first, bandages and stories later.”

Though his worry for her wellbeing was foremost in his mind, the mention of the word “bath” brought an unexpected grin to Spike’s face, his head ducking to hide it as he flashed on the unfulfilled promise of that morning, thoughts of Buffy rolling around in the mud before stripping to wash away the grime tightening his jeans around his hips in unbidden pleasure. It was a gesture that caught her hazel gaze, and though it hadn’t been what she’d actually considered, the prospect she knew he was imagining nonetheless caused her own color to flare, her lip catching between her teeth as she looked furtively away from the blond vamp.

The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by the Watcher, and his jaw locked. “All right,” he said, his voice terse, eyes jumping between the two blonds. “I’ve had enough of these games. I want the full truth, and I want it now. You’re bleeding all over the floor, there is no logical reason Spike should be able to get away with manhandling this…man, and the two of you are acting like a pair of naughty schoolchildren keeping a secret from the headmaster. So. Both of you are going to start telling me what’s going on here, or I’m going to start making assumptions that, frankly, scare the bloody daylights out of me.”

She sighed as the mental picture of a steaming hot bath suddenly vanished from her head. Her eyes settled on the guardian, and after a small moment, she nodded. “Go ahead,” she urged, and clung to the wall, regarding the human form she’d requested Frank to take dissolve away into the kelpie visage he’d worn in the dungeon.

Giles paled, and took a step backwards. “That’s…not…what I was…expecting,” he murmured, his anger seemingly gone, dissipating in fascinated confusion as he gazed at the new arrival.

“Frank, meet my Watcher, Giles. Giles, meet Frank, the last of the Otherworld guardians.”

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

Wait until morning my eye, Riley fumed silently, his jaw tense as he marched silently down the stairs. He’s got to be kidding me. But he knew the Englishman wasn’t, that Travers was quite firm about approaching this…Dall Rath by daylight, almost as if he feared the place. Though he wanted to think that it was because of the storm, the ex-soldier had gleaned enough from the older man’s brief telephone conversation in the car to believe that things were not going well on whatever project Buffy was involved in, that serious steps were about to be taken in order to rectify it. Probably because of Spike, he thought, his enmity for the vampire burning under his skin, pushing him to hasten his step to the front room. It’s always because of Spike.

She was there, right where she’d been before they’d gone upstairs to unpack, and she smiled up at Riley when he stopped in the doorway. “Yes?” Ibbie queried. “Is everything all right with your room?”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you could help me out,” he said, affecting his widest Iowa boy smile. “Mr. Travers said you knew the way to…” He pretended to stumble over the name.

“Dall Rath?” she prompted.

He pretended to chuckle at his own expense. “Yes, ma’am. Dall Rath. That’s it.” Taking a step closer, Riley lowered his gaze, ducking his head as he strove for an innocent sheepishness that he hoped would garner her good favor. “I was thinking, maybe, you might be able to tell me how to get there.”

Storytelling hour didn’t last for nearly that long.

Within minutes of settling in the great hall, the tremors began, starting from somewhere near the base of her spine and undulating outward, rippling in minuscule waves through her muscle tissue to overtake all sensations, until Buffy was left visibly shaking as Giles finished the last of the dressing. Nothing she could do could control it; even setting her jaw hurt as the shivers from going from the extreme wet cold of the mountain to the damp not-so-cold of the castle rattled her teeth.

Spike had been hovering in the background, allowing her Watcher to take control of the situation, watching in impotent worry as Buffy perched herself on the edge of the table---half on, half off---to let Giles peel away her jacket in a swift sucking rend before carefully ripping her shirt to expose more of the wound on her shoulder. Even from his vantage point near the fireplace, each daub of the antiseptic to the teeth marks sent an answering twinge through the vampire’s body, every hiss and visible cringe from the Slayer sparking the memory of his own kelpie bite, and he had to consciously stuff his hands into his pockets in an attempt to curb the desire to just snatch her away from it all. It didn’t work with his feet, though. Step by step, they moved of their own accord, edging him nearer to Buffy, until once again, he found himself back at her side. For one fleeting moment, the realization that they would probably have similar scars, albeit in slightly differing places, had sent a warm flash through his skin, but that had quickly dissipated, returning him to his icy anxiety regarding his lover’s health. And he watched. And waited.

His attention had been split, darting from Buffy to the corner, where Colin and Anya were tending to the wounded guardian. It had reverted to a human form, to make it easier for the others to deal with, but its wounds were still very much real, its bare chest still sporting the tiny daggers the younger Watcher was carefully extracting, while the young woman carefully bound the arrow wounds in its leg. The whole situation seemed to amuse Frank, and more than once, Spike found himself meeting the other demon’s eyes, the tacit understanding of what it felt to be at the care of a bunch of humans passing between them.

It didn’t mean he liked him, though. If the Slayer said he was OK, Spike was going to have to believe her, but since he was the only one outside of her who knew the full story, the vamp wasn’t risking any more attacks by taking his eyes off the kelpie. Not while Buffy was still in the room. And not while she was most definitely below par.

When the shivering began, though, all thoughts of Frank vanished, to be replaced with a grim determination as he watched Giles settle back to begin pumping her for information. Buffy’s skin was a flourish of color, twin spots of bright red high on her cheeks, fingers pale white from exposure to the wet and cold, her shoulder and upper arms mottled in purples and greens from the bruises he could only assume Duncan had caused. Though she was doing her best to be strong, the glassy shine in her eyes betrayed her discomfort, and she held herself as still as possible while she braced herself for the interrogation. She couldn’t fool Spike, though. Especially when he could hear the wild, uneven staccato of her heartbeat. Hell, he could practically hear the tremors vibrating her skin. Enough was enough, and bugger if he cared anymore about Buffy’s precious secrets. Nothing was worth her gettin’ sick over.

“OK, show’s over,” he announced, boldly slipping his arm around her waist to lift her to her feet. “C’mon, pet.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, mouth set, but there was no struggle left in her, only the calm realization that the time for pretending was now long gone. Slowly, she let her own arm steal around his shoulder, leaning heavily against him as she turned back to the grim face of her Watcher, ignoring the array of responses from her friends around her.

“I haven’t even started,” Giles said, his voice tight.

“And you’re not goin’ to,” Spike finished. “Do you even have eyes behind those bloody glasses of yours? ‘Cause from this angle, I’d wager not.” His grip around her tightened as he felt her begin to sway. Buck it up, Buffy, he thought. You just have to wait until I can get you out of this and upstairs where you belong. “Slayer’s not up to this. She needs a long hot soak and then a good night’s rest. Anything she has to say about this whole mess can wait until mornin’.”

Giles’ gaze flickered from the vampire to his charge, taking in her disheveled appearance, the flush in her cheeks, seeing for the first time the slight quiver in her limbs as she fought against the inner trembling. As worrying as that was, it was the possessive bent of her head against Spike’s shoulder, the powerful curve of his fingers around her waist, that was the most troubling to the older Englishman, and he slowly rose to his feet. There was going to be no more argument regarding this; that much was certain. “Fine,” he said, meeting blue for blue with the vamp. “I shall be the one to help her upstairs. Then I can speak with her along the way.”

“Rupert---.”

“You and Xander begin fetching water for her bath,” Giles interrupted, ignoring Spike’s protestation. “Willow, could you and Tara please prepare something that will help Buffy speed in healing? We really need her to be at her best tomorrow night when we attempt to close the entrance again.”

The Slayer’s head swiveled to look back at Spike, the silent plea buried in the hazel to just go along with it clamoring for recognition. It took only a moment for the vampire to duck his head, stepping away to allow the Watcher to slip his own arm around her and pull her gently toward the door. A moment that felt like forever.

The demon inside him raged at being shoved to the side yet again, but on the outside, the vampire remained cool, face implacable as he was left to watch the pair disappear from the hall. She was going to get lectured, of that he was sure, and Giles was going to do everything in his power to try and sway her opinion of Spike, because there was no doubt in his mind any longer that the Watcher knew the truth about what was going on between them. Too many clues and Rupert was hardly a stupid man. A little blind, perhaps, especially when it came to considering his Slayer’s personal life, but definitely not stupid. Which might be hard on Buffy.

His mouth thinned. Headache or not, if Rupert made her cry, Spike was going to thump him.

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

He wasn’t sure how to start. Frankly, it wasn’t a conversation he’d ever thought he’d have with her, though in light of her past and her predilection for surprising him, Giles should have seen it coming. Still…knowing didn’t make it any easier to form the words, and he found himself remaining silent when they emerged from the stairwell, assisting her in mute concern as they made their way down the hall.

“Does it help if I go first?” Buffy asked quietly as they stopped in front of her bedroom door. Her tired gaze lifted to stare up into her mentor’s. “Or is it the sudden wish that you were deaf that’s turned you into Mr. Mime?”

His face softened. It was so difficult to be angry with her when the pleading hazel of her eyes seemed to cut through his feelings like a knife, and he ducked his head in order to get the words out. It was the only way he could. “What’s…happened between you and…” God, he couldn’t believe he was actually having to say the name. “…Spike?”

“A lot,” she admitted, and though she was still wary of how he was going to react, and though the chill of the castle air was still wreaking havoc with her body, there was no denying the liberation Buffy suddenly felt at confessing even to that much, the relief sending a warm flood washing through her body that temporarily lessened her shivering. She reached out to lay a thin hand on his arm. “But it’s all good.”

Giles snorted. “Good is not a word that I regularly associate with Spike,” he said. “And neither should you. Have you forgotten everything I’ve ever taught you? He kills Slayers, Buffy---.”

“Killed. Past tense. He doesn’t do that anymore.”

“Only because the chip doesn’t allow him.”

“Maybe that was the way in the beginning, but it’s different now.” Her face was earnest. “He’s changed, Giles. I can see it, Willow can see it. Even Xander can see it, I think. Why can’t you?”

“Perhaps because I’m the only one who refuses to be taken in by his so-called charm,” he retorted, and immediately regretted the harshness of his tone. Giles took a deep breath, deliberately lowering his voice as he continued. “Spike’s a survivor. He does whatever is necessary to preserve his own skin---.”

“Then why was he almost kelpie chow our first day here?” she countered. “And why did he take the blame for me and the gang about the joyride last night? Nobody asked him to do either, Giles, but he did them. Without being prompted to. Without getting any kind of reward. In fact, he got a nasty bite from the guardian and a grounding from you to show for his troubles.”

Her latter example took the Watcher by surprise, and he frowned. “What are you talking about?” he queried. “What about last night?”

Buffy sighed. “Don’t ask me why he did it because I have absolutely no idea. But…Will and I were the ones who badgered him into driving us and the others to the pub. We wanted to get out of the castle for a while, maybe experience some of the Scottish nightlife while we still had the chance.” She blushed under his amazed stare. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. You and Colin weren’t even supposed to find out. Of course, taking your money was probably not the smartest thing Spike could’ve done. But he did try talking me out of it. I was just more…persuasive than he was.”

“You should’ve said something to Colin or myself. There’s certainly no reason we wouldn’t have allowed…” His voice trailed off as he watched her tilt her head and look up at him pointedly. No. Even he didn’t really believe that. “Still,” Giles continued, “this is William the Bloody we’re talking about here---.”

“No, because there’s nothing left to say. You’re family, you know that, but I’m not a child any more that needs to be protected from what you think is bad for me. Because he’s not.” Her eyes were sad, but her mouth was firm. “Spike’s going to be a part of my life now, Giles, whether you like it or not. Of course, it would make everything a lot easier if you’d just trust me on this, but I believe in this enough to do it on my own, if I have to. Well, not really on my own, because Spike will be there, but you get the idea.”

It was all starting to go fuzzy in her head, her shivering returning with a vengeance, and Buffy found herself reaching out to clutch at the doorframe to keep herself vertical. Now was not the time to be looking like she couldn’t take care of herself, even if she really didn’t think she could. Had to look strong.

The action caught Giles’ eye and he was about to return his arm to her shoulders to guide her into the room when Spike and Xander stepped from the stairs, both loaded down with buckets of steaming water. It took only a moment for the vampire to see the state of the Slayer, to take in her heavy breathing and accelerated pulse, before he dropped what he was carrying to rush to her side, scooping her into his arms while he shot the Watcher a dirty look.

“So much for helpin’ her,” he snapped as he kicked at the door, forcing it open and marching inside.

Giles looked on puzzled as Spike set her down on the edge of the bed, pushing the hair away from her eyes before gently cupping her cheek in his palm. “Just have to wait a few minutes, luv,” he heard the vampire say, and then stepped aside as Xander brushed past.

The two men were quick, moving the screen to expose the tub, emptying their pails into it wordlessly before the brunette rushed out to refill his. Picking up the buckets he’d brought upstairs, Spike strode over to the door and shoved them into the Watcher’s unsuspecting arms. “Make yourself useful,” the vamp ordered, his eyes cold. “Instead of tryin’ to make this worse when it doesn’t have to be.”

Giles’ gaze darted to a shivering Buffy on the bed before flitting back to Spike’s stern anger. “I’m not done---.”

“Yeah, you are.” He desperately wanted to slam the door in his face, shut out the doubt and mistrust that shone in the Watcher’s eyes, but Spike knew it was the last thing the Slayer wanted, stepping back instead to fold his arms over his chest to watch in waiting.

When Giles looked to Buffy, his uncertainty lining the space between his eyes, she nodded. “I need this right now,” she said simply. It took her only a moment to add, “Please?”

He left then, with one last look at the pair, shaking his head as if it was some mystery he had yet to solve. Once it was just the two of them, though, Spike relaxed, glancing back at her over his shoulder as his arms fell to his sides. “I’m just goin’ to help finish with the water,” he said. “Then we’ll get you sorted.” He turned away, and paused, the muscles in his back rippling beneath his shirt as his hands balled into fists at his side. “If you want your privacy after…now that…” Getting the rest of the words out was impossible, and his head lowered as his body tensed again. If it was what she wanted, he’d do it, but he sure as hell didn’t have to like it.

“Spike. Look at me.”

Glancing back, the vampire saw the delicate smile curve her lips. “The minute I start feeling human again, we’re talking, OK? In the same room. So, no doing a duck and run because you’re worried about Giles.”

“I’m not---.”

“Hey, this is a big deal for me,” she joked as best she could. “You’re getting Chatty Buffy instead of Action Buffy for a change. I say, grab it while you can.”

He couldn’t help his grin. “Nothin’ wrong with Action Buffy,” he commented. “I like how she keeps me on my…toes.”

“Maybe she’ll make an appearance later. After Chatty Buffy decides she’s said enough. Or after you get tired of listening to her.”

Spike shook his head. “Never happen, pet.”

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

Although it was still raining, the storm had lessened from the gale that had raged upon Buffy’s return to a softer, steadier tempo that spoke of gentler winds and calmer skies. The temperature was dropping, and though he had left his jacket inside, Giles felt nothing of the bite in the air, staring as he was into the nothingness of the approaching night. The occasional drop would catch on the breeze to splatter across his trousers as he crouched in the doorway, but it was nothing compared to the wet that still stained his shirt from assisting the Slayer. Not that he would have noticed anyway. The last thing on the Watcher’s mind at the moment was his dress.

“Tea should only be a few more minutes,” Colin said from behind him, but even that wasn’t enough to gather Giles’ attention. “Anya is serving it up now.” A moment of silence hung between the pair, and then the younger man stepped forward, carefully setting down a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler at his elder’s side. “I thought you might like a drink before we eat.”

Picking up the bottle, Giles only gave its volume a quick glance before saying, “Thank you.”

Another pause where the only sounds were the alcohol before poured into the glass and the rain being dropped from the sky. “Rupert, I understand---,” Colin started.

“You understand nothing.” Giles’ voice was harsh as he lifted the tumbler to his lips, draining the amber liquid in a single gulp. “You’ve never had a proper assignment with a Slayer.”

“Well, no, but that hardly means I’m not familiar with the Watcher diaries. Required reading, you know.” He cleared his throat. “Buffy is not the first---.”

“That’s not the point,” he snapped, and poured himself another shot, downing it just as quickly as the first.

“I did try to warn you,” Colin tried again. “But you refused to listen to me.”

Giles straightened, turning to face the other man with barely disguised frustration gleaming in his eyes. “And is that supposed to make me feel better?” he demanded. “To know that a fledgling Watcher, with absolutely no field experience, knows my Slayer better than I do?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No, but it’s what you said.”

“Is it because of the problems you had with…the other one…with Angelus?”

It was probably the worst question he could’ve posed, and Colin had to physically jump away as Giles stepped viciously toward him. “She deserves better than a vampire,” he hissed into the younger’s face.

“N-n-not that I don’t agree,” Colin was quick to assure, “but I should think that perhaps this might be...Buffy’s decision to make.” He flinched as he saw Giles ball his hand into a fist, but the arm remained at the other Watcher’s side. “She’s almost twenty years old, after all. And technically, Spike is no longer a threat to her. Not that I still don’t think he’s dangerous, and he can certainly learn a thing or two about proper etiquette, but when it comes down to it, he’s no longer in a position to harm her. Isn’t that what’s important?”

Giles shook his head. “You are a horribly naïve young man,” he said softly. “It was only a year ago that Spike was trying to kill her. He will not have changed so drastically in such a short period of time.”

“Yes, about that.” Colin was gathering courage, straightening before his colleague as the thoughts ticked through his brain. “I’d read your accounts regarding Spike and Buffy prior to our arrival in Sunnydale, and one thing I always wondered was, why did neither of them ever succeed?” He hurried forward at the growing frown on Giles’ face. “I mean, Buffy is one of the strongest Slayers we’ve been privileged to have in quite some time. And Spike has two Slayer kills under his belt, including Nikki Wood, who was formidable in her own right. Why on earth haven’t either of them ever managed to kill the other? They’ve both had ample opportunities, yet something has always managed to intervene. Why do you think that is?”

“Rotten luck.” He didn’t want to consider what Colin was suggesting, that the attraction between the two had always been there, or at the very least, had been there far earlier than this…arrangement in Scotland. It was hard enough seeing Spike’s face, with a stalwart Buffy just behind him, knowing that they were presenting as a united front. Not that he hadn’t had to deal extensively with the chipped vampire in the past, but this was different. This was Buffy. This was his Slayer.

“It sounds as if you don’t trust your Slayer.”

“Hardly. It’s Spike I don’t trust.”

“And yet, to be fair, he was the first to insist Buffy wasn’t well enough to relay their findings. Surely, his concern for her above all else merits some…attention, wouldn’t you agree?”

“And you’re telling me this because…?” He wasn’t expecting a reply, his blue eyes narrowed as he stared at the younger man. “It wasn’t that long ago you were simply dismissing Spike as only another vampire. Not worth telling of his own potential endangerment regarding the spell. Expendable, I believe you called him. And now you’re his relationship advocate?” Giles shook his head. “Don’t tell me he’s got to you, too.”

“Not…got, per se. It’s just…his actions make me…curious. Like perhaps we’ve missed something. For example, in the great hall. There was a great deal of blood, including Slayer blood, and yet the only reaction from Spike was directed intently on Buffy’s wellbeing. He didn’t seem…attracted in the least, to the draw of a potential meal. In fact, he seemed much more concerned with---.”

“Enough.” That was the part that he was finding the most difficult to deal with. While Giles had been intent on discovering just what had happened on the mountain, Spike had been the one to notice just how badly Buffy needed to rest, pre-empting him from observing it on his own, and worse, making him look bad to the others. Not that he wasn’t used to occasionally being played for the fool by the younger generation, but certainly not when it came to Buffy. And definitely not by Spike.

But it had to have an explanation. The problem was, the explanation made him just as uncomfortable as the question, because that would mean that the two blonds had developed even stronger feelings for the other than they were verbally admitting. They were certainly behaving as a partnership and though he had at one point entertained the notion that perhaps the vampire would make a powerful ally, that his chip had allowed him the opportunity to attain some higher calling, it was never meant to happen in conjunction with…falling in love with Buffy. Because that’s what had happened with the vampire. And it was pointless to go on denying it to himself.

Giles sighed, the tension beginning to ease from his muscles as the alcohol started to wind its way through his veins. “This would be so much simpler if Spike could’ve just remained evil,” he muttered. “At least then, there’s no moral ambiguity issues for me to contend with.”

“Chin up, Rupert,” Colin said with a wide smile, one hand coming up to rest on his colleague’s shoulder. “Perhaps he’ll solve the problem for all of us by doing something so heinously wicked, Buffy will have no choice but to stake him.”

His lips twitched, battling the smile the other’s words encouraged. “You’re just trying to cheer me up,” he chastened, affecting a mock severity to his tone. “It won’t work.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would.” The two began walking back toward the great hall. “Maybe he’ll attempt to vamp her mother.”

This time, Giles laughed out loud, although more from the innocuous use of the word “vamp” coming from Colin’s mouth than anything else, and entered the dining area with a considerably lighter heart than he’d left it.

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

Watching the steam rise from the bath as Spike poured the last of the water in it made Buffy’s skin tingle in anticipation, her lip caught between her teeth as she tried to peer around him, almost bouncing on the bed in her excitement to just get out of her clothes and get into the tub. “Two baths in one day,” she commented. “And you said we were going to be roughing it.”

He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “Gettin’ mangled by a kelpie is a piss poor way to get an extra soak,” he admonished. “And I’m still annoyed you didn’t listen to me.”

“I did listen,” Buffy pouted. “I took the crossbow. It was the stupid storm’s fault. And Frank’s. Don’t forget him. He showed up out of nowhere and totally blew it for me.”

Spike snorted, straightening to turn back and face her. “Don’t think I can be forgettin’ the guardian,” he said. “Especially since he’s sittin’ down there right now, tellin’ God knows what tales about what happened out there.”

“How many ‘I told you so’s’ am I going to have to put up with before you let this go?” Placing her palms on the blanket, the Slayer used it to help guide herself into a standing position, stopping halfway as the world began to sway around her. Spike was at her side in a shot, strong arm around her waist, steadying her as she finished rising. “And I’m going to keep saying this until I’m blue in the face. Frank’s on our side.”

“You’re blue in the arms at the moment,” he noted, looking at the bruises that adorned her flesh. “Does that count?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” She twisted to face away from him. “Now help me get out of this so that I can wash the kelpie smell off of me.”

His blue gaze swept over the ruined fabric that still clung to her back, certain patches still damp while others were dry and caked with mud. “Are we pronouncing this shirt officially dead?” he queried.

“I’m pretty sure it’s past its sell by date.”

Abstractly, Spike nodded, and gripping the bottom hem of the material, tore it up the middle, allowing the two halves to fall to her arms so that she could shrug it away from her skin. Though there were abrasions and minor cuts marring the golden flesh of her back, it was for the most part unmarked, a smooth expanse belying the strength it housed inside. For a brief moment, the urge to run his fingers down her spine, to trace the delicate curve of the muscles, was overwhelming, and Spike had to consciously step backwards, away from the young woman, in order to refrain from doing so. She doesn’t need that right now, he silently reprimanded himself. This is about her doin’ some recuperative bathing, not about gettin’ off on how gorgeous she is…or enjoying the beauty she probably doesn’t even realize she possesses, not really…or about anything else even remotely connected to any of your body parts located from the neck down. Buffy. This is about her.

She had already removed her shoes and socks, in spite of the ice-cold floor, so all that remained were the trousers that seemed to be glued to her legs, but struggling with those only sapped what remaining strength the Slayer had left, leaving her worn and exhausted and bending in the air like a willow trapped in a hurricane. He noticed before she did, bending to lift her up, carrying her to the side of the tub and allowing her to slide inside.

The water wrapped around her in a fiery sheath, staving the shivers that had slowly started to win the battle with her body, letting her eyelids flutter shut as she sank into the oblivion the scents provided. Her sigh of pleasure was enough to bring a smile to Spike’s face, and though his dark gaze flickered over the exposed flesh, drinking in the curve of her breast and the sinew of her waist, it was the wound on her shoulder that kept the majority of his attention, the stark crimson too red against her skin. Hate for the cook boiled in his throat, and silently he vowed to be especially vicious with the other demon on their next encounter. Because there would be another one. There was no way the vampire could allow Duncan not to be punished for what he did to Buffy.

“About that chat you were wanting,” Spike started, and then stopped when her eyes shot open.

“You’re not bailing, are you?” she asked, her muscles tensing as she began to straighten in the water.

“I’m just thinkin’ maybe it should wait,” he replied. “You need to be gettin’ some sleep when you get out of there. I wasn’t kiddin’ Rupert about that.”

The candles that flickered in the sconces cast long shadows over her face, and for a moment, Spike thought he saw a twinge of fear skitter behind her eyes. “It can’t wait,” Buffy said softly, relaxing back into the tub. “It’s waited too long as it is.”

“If this is about that prat Duncan---.”

“No. It’s about…us. You. Me.” Her eyes darted to the bed. “Do you mind…sitting for this?” she asked.

His head tilted. “Sitting usually goes with bad news.”

“Oh, not bad,” she insisted. “You just seem very…imposing, standing there like that. And this is hard enough for me to say with you watching me. It makes me goosebumpy.” Suddenly, she seemed absorbed in the water, head turning as she watched it lap against the porcelain sides of the tub. “Or maybe…if you wanted…it’s kind of roomy in here. You could…sit in here with me instead of on the bed.” Her lashes lifted to allow the darkened hazel to meet the sapphire glitter of his eyes. “If you wanted.”

The arousal of his body was immediate, and his jaw dropped as his tongue darted forward, running along the inside edge of his teeth as he regarded her. “You’re s’posed to be gettin’ washed up so you can sleep,” he said softly, no recriminations in his voice, only a faint shine of expectation.

“So, I’ll wash after we’ve had our…talk.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. With his eyes never leaving her, Spike pulled the t-shirt over his head, his blond hair mussing even further into the curls running his worried fingers through it all afternoon had already encouraged, tossing the tee casually aside as he sat down on the bed to unlace his boots. The sinew of his muscles flexed as he worked at stripping himself, sliding his feet free before rising back up and settling his hands at his waistband. He was hard, but not ashamed of it, and his erection sprang free as the denim fell, gleaming golden in candlelight, throbbing in sympathetic rhythm with the cadence of the Slayer’s heartbeat.

It was surprise on her face when he moved behind the tub, strong hands reaching forward to grip the sides as he lifted himself and slid in behind her, nudging her forward so that she sat between his legs, then releasing the porcelain to guide her carefully back against his chest. “How’s this?” he questioned, his voice a rumble in his throat, and allowed his fingers to carefully push her hair away from the arch of her neck, running his index finger along the vein that ran down its side as he leaned back against the slope of the tub.

Buffy could feel his erection pressing into the small of her back, up the beginnings of her spine, and wished for a second that she was facing the other way. “Not what I expected,” she admitted with a breathy sigh. Somehow, she had a feeling bathing alone would never quite be good enough again.

She felt him tense. “You want me to move?”

“No, no,” she insisted. “This is good. Somehow, you always seem to come up with better stuff than I can possibly imagine. It’s…surprising.”

His chuckle vibrated through his skin, into hers, echoing into her own torso. “It’s called a century of experience, luv. Now…” Spike’s hand dipped below the surface of the water, skating along the top edge of her thigh. “What’s this little chat of yours about?”

The tremors were beginning again, only this time, they were starting in her legs and they had nothing to do with the cold in the room or the injuries on her body. Determinedly, Buffy grabbed the vampire’s hand and set it on the edge of the tub. “You can’t do that if you want a coherent sentence out of me,” she warned. “And I want to get this out there.”

He smiled, though he knew she couldn’t see it. “Coherent sentence from the Slayer,” he mused. “This should be interestin’…”

Playfully, Buffy slapped at his knee, splashing the warm water over the side. “I’m being serious here.” She decided then that maybe it was a very good idea he was behind her. This was going to be so much easier if she didn’t have to look into those probing blue eyes.

“I’m pretty sure Giles knows now,” she started, her tone solemn as she began to focus on her task at hand. “About us, I mean. I didn’t come out and say as much to him, but he had most of it figured out.”

“Look, about that---.”

“I’m not blaming you.” She stopped, hesitating, dwelling on the words before selecting the ones that fit best. “I’m blaming me. I should’ve come clean about the whole thing when it started. Stupid Slayer logic.”

“It’s done now. You shouldn’t fuss about it.”

“I’m going to tell Xander and Anya in the morning. I’m going to make sure they all know. You deserve that after everything.”

“Pet, I don’t deserve anything---.”

“If you keep interrupting me, I’m never going to get this out, OK?” The tease in her tone was mirrored by the delicate trace of her fingers around his knee. “You’ve been very…open to me regarding what’s going on in your head, and I figure, maybe it’s only fair if my head is just as open. Only it’s not really my head that I mean. I mean…god, I really, really suck at this.” She sighed, burrowing herself deeper into the water, banging her head slightly against the wall of his chest.

“Just say it.” Everything in his body had stopped. No movement in his hands. The calm locking of his muscles as he waited. Only not so calm, because the hints she was dropping were driving him mad with hope. Expectations he hadn’t considered he’d be able to entertain until they were long gone from this place and he could devote himself properly to loving her, to being able to publicly love her. “It’s not that hard.”

Buffy’s breath was a feather against Spike’s shoulder as she turned her head, nuzzling his warming skin with her cheek. “Yes,” she said. “It is. Because I don’t do this. I’ve never been big with the words. I guess I’ve just learned that actions always speak so much louder. And I know you get that. But…I know I like hearing it, so the way I see it, you probably do, too, right?” She almost seemed to be waiting for a response, but answered herself after only a moment. “Except you have no idea what I’m talking about, so I’m just going to…get it out there.” A deep breath. “You’ve told me more than once that you love me. And that means more to me than you can possibly imagine. I just want you to know…you’re not alone on that.” Her lashes fluttered shut, her hand stealing beneath his leg to hold him in a gentle caress, almost as if she were afraid he would disappear if she didn’t. “I love you, Spike…”