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

Tilting her head, Buffy sighed as Daymon slithered toward the plane, his ebony slitted eyes never leaving hers. “You do not have to come, Miss Summers,” he said. “I have no qualms about allowing Spike here to join the dust of the desert without the pleasure of your company.” As if to illustrate his point, his grip on the vampire tightened, and he chuckled as Spike kicked out, trying to loosen the hold.

“You know,” the young woman said, exasperated, “these ultimatums everyone keeps giving me tonight are really getting old.”

As the distance stretched between them, ten yards turning into twenty, the demon hesitated. “It is your choice after all. He is only a vampire, albeit an interesting one.”

The Slayer’s eyes darted to Spike’s dangling form, his muscles bulging under the t-shirt, his boots doing their best to connect with the scaled body of his captor. Only a vampire? God, how she wished that was true. It would certainly make her life easier, if not very much fun. But it just wasn’t. Spike was a lot of things---irritating, seductive, bigheaded, loyal---but only a vampire was not one of them.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered, lowering the sword and starting to walk toward the plane. “I’m coming.”

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

Xander bolted upright in the driver’s seat, his eyes like saucers as he took in the unbelievable sight before him. “Uh…Giles?”

Glancing up from the white demon asleep in his lap, the Watcher stiffened as he realized what his charge was doing. Quickly but carefully, he slid Cortina’s head onto the seat and opened the door. “Give me full beam,” he ordered. At the younger man’s confused frown, he barked, “Turn the bloody brights on!”

As Giles stepped out into the sudden illumination, Buffy finally became aware of the Hound and car parked merely yards away. She stopped, hesitating, her gaze darting between the retreating Daymon and her furious mentor rushing towards her. Seeing the demon’s eyes narrow, the Slayer held up her hand to Giles, yelling, “Don’t come any further! He’ll kill him!”

The older man halted, his blue eyes blazing. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing!” he demanded.

“I think I’ve been working too hard lately,” Buffy said. “I feel like a little vacation, someplace warm. Greece, maybe. I hear they’ve got great beaches there.”

“This is madness. You are not getting on that plane.”

“I have to. If I don’t, he’ll dust Spike.” Her face softened. “Don’t worry, Giles. Nothing’s going to happen to me as long as Daymon’s around. Well, not until the ritual anyway, but I plan on killing him before then.”

“He’s a demon, Buffy, he’s not to be trusted.”

“OK, know that now, and before you say it, yes, I agree, it was stupid to leave without you guys. But honest, this guy seriously doesn’t want me getting hurt. You should’ve seen how pissed he got with that Celie witch when she tried to butt in.” She frowned. “And then her magic went all wonky. You don’t have Cortina stashed in the trunk of the Love Bug, do you?”

Giles glanced back over his shoulder. “Actually, she’s in the back seat. Xander suggested we bring her along to neutralize any of Celie’s spells. He thought it would…help Spike.”

“That was Xander’s idea?” Buffy couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “He hates Spike.”

“But he knows that you…don’t,” the Watcher replied. He lowered his voice, opting to try a different tack as it was clear that forceful father figure wasn’t going to work. “Buffy, just…walk away. You can end this right here, right now. It’s just Spike.”

“But it’s not.” She didn’t know how long she had left before Daymon reached the plane, but the young woman knew that this was the time, she had to explain it to her mentor. “If Spike dies, part of me’s going to die as well. And I’m not real peachy-keen on that happening.”

“I understand you shared a very…powerful encounter, but---.”

“It’s more than that, Giles. It’s…” She couldn’t help but look back at the diminishing form of the blond vampire. The fight in him was weakening, but if it was because he was tiring or because he thought she was giving up on him, Buffy had no idea. She turned pleading eyes back to the older man. “I love him. I don’t know how it happened, or when, but it did, and I do. I’m sorry, I have to do this.”

He watched as his Slayer turned and began jogging toward the pair of demons near the aircraft. The sound of her annoyed voice filtered back to him. “Keep your pants on, I said I was coming.” The tiny forms of Daymon’s men began swarming around the trio, and Giles could only shake his head as Buffy handed over her weapon, putting her shoulder under Spike’s, her arm around his back, supporting him as they boarded the plane.

“Please tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing, because what I think I’m seeing does not look like the happy ending we were hoping for.”

Xander’s presence behind him couldn’t rend Giles’ gaze from the ensemble in the distance. “She loves him,” he murmured. “She’s risking everything---her family, her calling, the fate of the world even---for him.”

“And this surprises you because…?” The younger man stepped around, blocking the view to the plane, forcing the ex-librarian to look at him. “This is typical Buffy modus operandi. She’s got her own mind when it comes to affairs of the heart.” He began ticking them off on his fingers. “She did it with Angel, hiding him when he came back ‘cause she was all worried about us going Charles Bronson on him. She stuck with Riley when we were worried about him being commando guy. And, as much as I may really, really hate to admit it, she’s going to stick with Spike on this one, regardless of anything we think or feel.”

Giles watched as the plane’s engines began to rev again, preparing to lift off. “I would hardly have placed you as a member of the Spike fan club, Xander.”

“I’m not,” he argued. “I’m very proud of my lifetime membership to the Anti-Bloodsucking Coalition. I am, and always will be, ABC to the core. But I gotta admit, I don’t get the switcheroo he pulled for Buffy back at the cave. I mean, yeah, he claims he’s in love with her---.”

The Watcher’s blue eyes whipped away from the plane to stare into Xander’s. “Spike told you he was in love with her?” he asked incredulous. “And you believed him?”

“Well, yeah. Apparently, us Scoobies are the only ones who don’t know this tidbit of information. Celie saw it before I did and made a point of letting me know. That one’s definitely nightmare fodder, lemme tell you.”

“Cortina suggested the same thing, but I didn’t want to believe her…”

The sound of the airplane lifting into the air diverted both men’s attention from their conversation, and they just watched helplessly as Buffy and Spike disappeared into the midnight sky. Giles sighed, removing his glasses, and rubbed wearily at his eyes. “Whatever happened to old-fashioned slaying…” he muttered under his breath. To his companion, he added, “Would you think it remiss of me if I confessed that sometimes I actually wish for the days when Spike didn’t have the chip?”

Xander just looked at the Watcher, his brown eyes steady, his eyebrows raised.

“No, you’re right. That would be a bad thing.” The older man stared off into the sky. “I think.”

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

There seemed no logical explanation for it. All her life, almost every waking moment, she could remember having the power, being able to command it to do bigger and greater things as she grew older, knowing that time and death would be her only bars to utter control. Yet, here she was, sitting on a pile of hay in a malodorous stable somewhere in the middle of the California desert, and she couldn’t even summon the forces necessary to levitate a simple twig.

Celie rubbed at her exhausted eyes. It was over now, she knew that. She wasn’t deaf; she’d heard the plane land, heard it take off again, and somehow knew that Daymon was onboard. Her bitter smile belied the dismay of her spirit. All her work---convincing the pilot his return was an official request of his employer’s, ensnaring the vampire whose blood would have saved future generations from the horror of the demon existence---all of it was for nothing, because now she was just a mere shell of the powerful witch she had been.

Slowly, she stumbled to her feet. Daymon---the monster---whatever he was, would most likely have alerted his men to her presence. If she didn’t wish to be captured and tortured, or worse, her best plan was to make her escape now. Her black gaze swept over the broken pen that had recently housed Spike. What could possibly have happened? she wondered. Is there a stronger witch counteracting my magics nearby? Somehow, she doubted it, but the questions still plagued her as she lurched through the opening in the stable wall.

Celie almost cried when she saw the velvet pelt of the Hound, his head resting on his front paws. He’d managed to find her, must have followed her scent from the cave. At last, something working in her favor. She began to walk toward him, then stopped when she saw the redhead stroking his fur, leaning over to murmur in his ear. But who was this? She peered into the darkness. The witch…from the vampire’s crypt? That would mean…

And for the first time since emerging, she noticed the car and the two men standing in its headlights, gazing into the night sky. When she recognized Xander, she didn’t know if she should feel frightened or relieved. He would not be happy about her treatment of the Slayer, yet she also knew that he was relatively harmless. His friends, however, were a different story. The witch---hadn’t there been another in the alley?---was a potential threat, and since Celie no longer had her powers, so was the older gentleman. Her only hope was to get to the Hound.

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

Willow felt the dog stiffen under her hand, his muscles tightening as his eyes slowly opened. “Hey, guys?” she called out, not too loudly as she didn’t want to disturb the Hound too much but loud enough so that she could be heard by the others near the car. “Something’s spooking Elvis.”

Giles frowned. “Elvis? You…named it?”

“Well, yeah,” Willow explained. “I can’t go around just calling him puppy. Would you like it if we walked around calling you ‘Limey?’ He needs a name.”

“So, it’s Elvis because…he ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog?” Xander couldn’t keep the sarcasm from creeping into his voice.

The witch pouted. “I thought it was clever.” She turned back to the Hound as a low growl rumbled from its throat, and began stroking his muzzle to calm him. “We like it, don’t we, Elvis?”

“I think I know what’s bugging him,” Xander offered, his brown eyes fixed over the dog’s shoulder.

Giles turned, and Willow peeked around the bulk of the Hound to see Celie standing near the hole in the side of the stable. She was silent, motionless, staring directly at the one person she knew could recognize her. Quizzically, they looked back at their friend in explanation.

“I’d say it’s good to see you,” Xander said to the dark witch, his arms folded across his chest, “but that would be a lie. Please tell me the reason you look like hell is Buffy-related. ‘Cause she was a little miffed about the whole pinned-to-the-wall thing. Not to mention you disappearing with Spike. Personally, that part didn’t bother me, but, you know, Buffy’s my friend. You’re not.”

Celie regarded each of them in turn before responding. “I’m only interested in recovering my charge,” she said, stepping slowly toward the Hound. When it sat up on its haunches, its hackles rising, she hesitated and frowned.

“I don’t think you’re one of his happy shiny people right now,” warned Willow, her body edging forward as if she were trying to shield the canine from the dark witch.

“What have you done to him?” Celie hissed.

“What’ve I done?” The redhead’s eyes went wide. “Hello? News flash. You’re the one who left him out in the cold, without any food or water. You’re just lucky I can’t report you to Doggy Social Services.”

“Girls, girls, girls!” Xander stepped forward between them, his palms held up to stop the two women from their bickering. "We’ve got more important things to be fighting about right now than which one of you gets to be all love me tender with poochie here. Or have we forgotten about Buffy and Spike and their bid for more frequent flyer miles?”

Celie stiffened. “Daymon…took the Chosen One…with him?”

“Yep. Got her on the plane using Spike as his gouda.” At his best friend’s frown, he elaborated, “Gouda…cheese…bait…?” He shrugged. “Never mind, my genius is lost on you people.”

“So what are we going to do with her?” Willow nodded with her head toward the other witch. “We can’t just leave her here. As soon as we get far enough away, she’ll be all magicky again. How do we know she’s not going to go after Spike on her own this time?”

“We take her with us.” Giles’ voice was low, but it carried through the still night air, and the trio as well as the Hound turned to look at him. “She’s not a threat as long as she’s in close proximity with Cortina. And, as much as I’d like to use…Elvis, again in locating Buffy, something tells me that his particular skills might not work under our current circumstances.” His eyes were daggers as he confronted Celie. “You, however, can help us, by telling us where he’s taking her and what his plans are.”

“I wasn’t privy to Daymon’s plan,” she spat. “My job was to find the Chosen One, that’s all.”

“But the plane? Surely you know where he’s taking Buffy?” Her silence was the only affirmation he needed. “Right, then. Xander, make sure she doesn’t have any weapons and bring her to the car.” He started to move away, but was stopped by the young construction worker’s hand on his arm.

“Listen,” Xander said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I pass on the patting down part?” He glanced back at the parked car. “Last time I had to do that for Buffy, Anya thought I was getting a little too friendly-like and refused to talk to me for two days afterwards.”

“I would’ve thought that was a good thing,” Giles replied, but the earnest request in the younger man’s face only made him roll his eyes. “Never mind, I’ll do it,” he said.

“And about the traveling arrangements,” Xander continued. “Somebody’s gonna have to walk if you want witchie poo onboard,” said Xander. “’Cause that mid-life crisis of yours ain’t goin’ to hold another body.”

“Well, our…guest needs to stay as close to Cortina as possible,” the Watcher said. “We’ll just have to ask either Anya or Tara to give up their seat.” The two men looked back at the car at the same time, then at each other. “We’ll ask Tara.”

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

It was Giles’ voice she heard first as the group approached the car, and its melodic timbre sent warm shivers down her spine. Her pale eyes fluttered open when the door opened and she looked up to see the worry etched in his face. “Relax, Rupert,” she said softly. “I haven’t died on you.” The pain in her abdomen still burned, but she chose to ignore it as she struggled to sit up.

He was aiding her in an instant, his warm hands under her arms, sliding into the vehicle so that she could rest her head on his lap again. “You mustn’t tax yourself, Cortina,” he said, pushing the white hair out of her eyes.

“I hope you don’t tell your Slayer that,” she teased. “That Council of yours will replace you with someone who’s not such a big softie.”

Giles smiled at her slight gibe. “I think Buffy would disagree with your assessment.”

“Are they all right?” Cortina couldn’t resist asking the question, even knowing the relationship between his charge and the vampire set him on edge. “I assume they took care of that Daymon they were fighting.” She frowned as the older man averted his eyes, glancing out the front of the car, playing with her hair…anything but looking her in the face. “What happened out there?” she asked again.

“Buffy is…fine…”

“And Spike…?” The anxiety jumped into the white demon’s face. “Please tell me Spike’s OK.”

“He’s…also fine…”

She took a deep breath. “You’re holding back on me, Rupert. Just tell me what happened.”

There was a long moment when the Watcher just looked at her, assessing her, before he finally answered.

Daymon…threatened to kill Spike unless Buffy came with him. There was…a plane. They’re both gone.”

Cortina’s eyes closed and she sighed heavily. “Damn…”

“We’ll get them back before the ritual. I’ve just got to figure out how.”

She locked gazes with him, blue to blue. “You’d better. Because I think you need to take another look at that prophecy…”

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

The wounds chafed, exacerbated by his cramped quarters, and Daymon began to regret not having the plane outfitted for larger occupants when he’d had the chance. There was room in the hold, of course, but that was presently occupied, and somehow he suspected that the Chosen One would not be very welcoming of her host at the moment.

Now that he was bereft of Celie’s magics, arrangements would have to be made for containment of the vampire once they reached Greece. Rarely had Daymon seen such allegiance as that which bound Spike and Buffy, and he knew that his power over the Slayer lay in ensuring her companion’s continuing health. Before, he’d harbored suspicions regarding the true nature of their relationship; now, having witnessed the sacrifice she’d been willing to make, those doubts were banished. It was obvious the pair were lovers, possessors of some fathomless marriage of spirit, Slayer and vampire locked in the constrictive embrace of their emotions as they fought to face the world. It was rather romantic really, and if he were in any other place in his life, Daymon was sure that he would be among those watching the duo, engrossed in the melodrama as it unfolded. But, his plans superseded his voyeurism, the ritual far too vital to him now to brave giving it up.

The schedule would have to be moved, of course. Having shed the remnants of the human self he’d gained during his first attempt at the cleansing, there was nothing curbing the acceleration of the demon’s disease now. If he didn’t wish to go mad in the wake of its power, the ritual must occur quickly, sooner rather than later, although with enough time for both him and the Chosen One to heal completely. The Chalice needed to be perfect, ready to host the demon once it had been expelled from his body; if not, all of this effort would have been expended for nothing.

Although muffled through the plane’s fuselage, Daymon listened to the recurring thumps and curses from the hold, a common refrain since their lift-off, and stifled the chuckle that rose to his throat. How he wished at the moment he could be a fly on the wall, to espy the antics of his caged guests in whatever activities required such thunderous accompaniment. At least he could be assured that at their current altitude, he didn’t have to worry about their escaping…

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

Buffy stared down at the pile of blankets on the upturned bed frame, arms folded across her chest. “I think he meant for me to sleep on that,” she said tightly.

“Well, rah rah, sis boom, too bad!” snarled Spike, as he prowled around the edges of the hold. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you decided to hand yourself over on a bloody platter!” He kicked at an empty box, sending it ricocheting against the metal hull.

“How many times do I have to say this?” Buffy muttered, gritting her teeth. “He. Was. Going. To. Kill you!”

“Appreciate the sentiment, luv, but if what you’ve said is true and Rupes has got his research right, I don’t think my life is worth having a Slayer Demon on the loose. Granted, might be kinda fun to watch for a while, but long run? Not a shining Buffy moment.”

As he passed her on one of his circuits of the hold, the young woman’s leg shot out, sweeping across his knees, sending him sprawling to his back. She pounced on top of him, pinning him down under her thighs. “You wanna talk about shining moments, Spike? I got one for you. How ‘bout when you decided to not to tell me that Daymon was really a demon? ‘Cause, gotta tell you, that one could’ve saved us a whole boatload of trouble.”

His eyes glittered as he replied. “And exactly when do you think would’ve been the right time, pet? When you were riding my cock like a possessed she-devil? Or when your clit was between my teeth?”

It was habit more than anything else. Buffy’s punch connected with his jaw, wrenching the vamp’s blond head sideways. He wasn’t fazed by it, his stormy gaze swiveling back to face her immediately, his nostrils flaring. “And here I’d thought we’d moved past the Spike beating,” he said smoothly.

Two spots of red appeared high on the Slayer’s cheeks. I’m not going to apologize, she thought stubbornly. He was being crude. Out loud, she argued, “Maybe if you could have a civilized conversation, you wouldn’t have to be a punching bag.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t get on this plane to fight with you, Spike.”

“Well, you’re doing a bloody good job of it,” the vampire muttered.

“I think that maybe we’ve got some…issues we should be talking about,” Buffy continued, ignoring his comment.

“Like how you were a silly bint for letting Daymon get to you?”

Her fingers curled automatically into a fist, and the young woman had to fight to control her temper. God, he could be so infuriating! Why did he always insist on saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time? Deep down, though, she knew he honestly believed it, that he was only voicing the same argument Giles had, and that, in a certain light, yes, it could look like she had made a foolish choice. She’d given her reasoning to her Watcher…but did she have the nerve to tell Spike to his face?
“Let’s do this rationally,” the Slayer finally said, her voice too calm, too in control. “Fact one. We are on a plane with a demon, headed for god knows where, because he wants to use me as this Chalice thingy for his little ritual.” She held up her hand as the vamp opened his mouth to speak. “It doesn’t matter how we got here. What matters is that we stop him before I have to start seriously reconsidering my skincare routine.”

“And how do you plan on doing that five thousand feet in the air?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know. I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

Spike shifted underneath her, raising his arms and putting his hands behind his head. “Always knew that Rupert was the brains in your bunch.”

“Fact two.” Her jaw was tight as she struggled not to lose her temper. “As much as I’m sure they’re going to try, I don’t think we can count on Giles and Cortina showing up to rescue us this time. That means, we have to work together. Just you and me. Now I know you’re pissed as hell, ‘cause god knows, I’m not too thrilled by your little memory lapse either, but we can’t afford to be going solo right now. Truth is, when you’re not being a total ass, we make a pretty good team. We handled our first great escape without a hitch, didn’t we?”

In spite of his anger, the blond vampire grinned. “It had its moments. Although next time, I think you should be the one who gets tied up.”

The Slayer sat back, her ass against his hips, and noticed for the first time that he was hard beneath his jeans. She shouldn’t have been surprised; after all, her own underwear was already beginning to soak through from their earlier row. The passion he ignited in her, whether they were fighting or making love, shocked her, astounded her, but more than anything else…thrilled her. “You ever wonder how come I always end up on top?” she asked, her voice slightly husky.

Spike’s eyes darkened, pupils expanding to overcome the blue, and his tongue poked out between his teeth as it ran along their edges. “’Cause I let you,” he drawled, and in a movement too quick for Buffy to counter, his fingers were digging into her hips…flipping her to the side…slamming her onto her back so that he was now the one hovering over her. He leaned forward, his hands balling into fists and resting above her shoulders so that his chest, his lips, those eyes, were only inches from hers. “Why’d you do it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why’d you get on the plane?”

All of a sudden, she didn’t know what to do with her hands. Her gaze was riveted on his face…the scar above his eyebrow that seemed to speak volumes without him having to open his mouth…the white velvet of his skin as it stretched taut over those cheekbones…that full bottom lip, begging to be bitten…and then there were those eyes…

Bottomless pools of liquid sapphire daring her to drown herself in their depths…an intelligence that blinked from animal cunning, to uncommon insight, to the tenderest of passions, all within the space of seconds…mirrors for the emotions that refused to hide within the safety of his skin…

The breath caught in her throat, snagging on the lump that had formed there, and Buffy felt the momentary sensation of choking as she struggled to regain control of her racing nerves. “I told you already,” she murmured.

“Slayers aren’t supposed to keep saving vampires’ lives.”

“Why not? You keep saving mine.”

“That’s because I love you, Buffy.”

It hung there between them, an open invitation, and Spike found himself searching her hazel eyes for something…anything…

“…makes four…”she breathed.

The vampire frowned. “…Four?” he questioned.

“That’s how many times you’ve told me that since all this happened,” she explained. She finally knew what to do with her hands. Reaching up, her fingertips glided over his jaw, down the side of his neck, skipping to his nape before entwining in the curls they found there.

The blond vampire couldn’t hide the surprise in his face. She was…counting? Did that mean…?

“…I was trying to explain it to Giles,” Buffy was saying. “But he didn’t get it either until I actually said it.” Slowly, deliberately, the young woman pulled his head down until his lips met hers.

There was nothing hesitant in this kiss; she knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it, and damned if she wasn’t going to get it. Hungrily, her tongue forced its entrance, parrying with his for dominance, tasting the elixir that was uniquely Spike’s. She couldn’t breathe---didn’t really want to---the world a kaleidoscope of steel and smoke before her eyes. Squeezing them shut, her other arm wrapped around his shoulders, coaxing him down on top of her so that he pressed her into the floor with his weight. Buffy almost sighed with pleasure. This was right; this was real. Nothing else in this universe mattered, but being here…being with him…

As their mouths fought, mingling in a fervent heat, Spike felt the world around him tilt in dangerous confusion, spinning his head with thoughts of her blistering flesh and gentle words. Almost reluctantly, he tore away, his lips swollen from her assault. “How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at you when you go and do something like that?” he asked.

She smiled. “Too much talking,” she said. “Not enough kissing,” and pulled him back down to her waiting lips.

The passion that had fueled their fight exploded as they ground themselves together. Leaving the vampire’s neck, the Slayer’s hand dragged down his corded back, pulling out the t-shirt where it was tucked into his jeans, exposing the alabaster skin to her touch. Her fingers dwelled in the small of his back, playing with the fine hair they found there, before scooping under the waistband, her nails raking across his buttock as she reached to cup his ass, pulling his hips even closer to hers.

A groan rumbled from Spike’s throat. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to have his Slayer sear him with her heat, but the fabric of their clothing stood in the way. His breath jagged, he reached over his shoulder to grab the cotton of his shirt and yanked it over his head in a clean jerk, breaking from the spell of her lips just long enough to slide his arms out and toss it aside. “Your turn,” he rumbled, before leaning down to suck greedily at the curve of her neck.

Reluctantly, Buffy pulled her hand away from his body to try and get to the buttons that did her blouse up. But where the vampire’s chest pressed into her, there was no room for clearance, and she suddenly found that she didn’t want to break the seal that joined them.

As the seconds passed and the young woman remained clothed, Spike growled in frustration. “Taking too long,” he said into her throat, and yanked the collar of the shirt down in a single liquid motion.

The Slayer felt the buttons pop, separate, the soft material slipping to allow her breasts to melt against him. “Hey,” she exclaimed softly. “We don’t have Cortina’s clothing service to replace that one.”

“So you’ll wear mine.” Those words, like molten lava down her spine, were all it took for Buffy. Her hips bucked, disengaging him from her frame, and she rolled away, ending on her hands and knees, head down so that her hazel eyes were staring at him through her thick lashes.

He sat back on his heels, his muscled chest reflecting the light that was bouncing around in the steel hold, and slowly, deliberately, lowered his hands to his jeans…unbuttoning…unzipping…but not removing…allowing the head of his swollen cock to peek out from the black denim, the drop of pre-cum glistening against his dark curly hair.

She hissed, the flames of desire licking down her thighs, her eyes glued to the succulence of his flesh. Just as slowly, just as deliberately, Buffy began crawling forward, closing the distance between them until Spike could see how dilated her pupils were, the green swallowed by the black, making her seem almost feral. Her tongue darted out, licking around his nipple, and the vampire reached over her back to slide his long hands down the seat of her trousers, cupping her ass to pull her against him.

Somewhere along the journey to his lap, the young woman’s pants came undone, pushed down around her ankles, so that all she had to do was give them one sharp kick and they were off. Wrapping her slim legs around his waist, Buffy held herself up over his thighs, her arms clinging to his shoulders, feeling the tip of his hardness brushing against her outer lips. Her eyes locked with his. No waiting this time…no hesitation…in a single liquid motion, she lowered herself, impaling her wetness with his cock.

Spike’s arms curled around her body, hugging her against his, and buried his face in her shoulder, inhaling the fragrance of her skin, as she pumped up…

…down…

…sliding in…

…out…

All those dreams, all those stupid fantasies, none of them compared to the real thing…the force of his Slayer as her inner muscles squeezed, stroking him, sucking him dry…shattering every coherent thought as the storm within his gut threatened to erupt…

He felt her chuckle against his cheek and turned his head to look at her, a question in his eyes.

“Somehow I managed to get on top again,” she said, laughing.

The smile slowly spread across his face. “Like I said,” he drawled, and bent her backwards, burying her in the blankets he’d disrupted earlier, “only ‘cause I let you.”

Pulling his chest away enough to break her hold, Spike grabbed first one wrist, then the other, gripping them tightly as he lifted her arms over Buffy’s head, stretching her torso without letting her hips disengage from his erection, pinning them down so that her shoulders were immobile. For a brief second, the young woman flashed on her first erotic dream about the vampire. He’d done almost this exact same thing, but then it had been his fingers buried inside her instead of his cock. She held her breath, waiting for him to continue their lovemaking…but he only hovered, watching her intently with glittering eyes.

“What do you want?” he queried.

Her mind raced. What did he mean? She wanted him, she wanted his cock, she wanted it all. What did he want her to say?

“What do you want?” he repeated.

The pounding of her heart sent the vibrations in her neck aquiver. “You,” Buffy whispered. “I want you.” She paused, felt the breath burn in her throat. “All of you.”

That was all he needed. With a powerful lunge, Spike thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in her heat. He never let go of her wrists, not when he began pumping forcefully in and out of her…

…not when she began to writhe against him, the fire in her pelvis spreading down her thighs, up her sides, into her breasts, hardening her nipples…

…not when his own muscles began to tremble, his arms threatening to give…

…not even when the young woman threw her head back, slamming it against the floor, exposing the muscular curve of her throat, screaming a barely coherent, “Fuck me!”…

Her words lit the fuse as he slammed into her, squirting deep inside, her pussy clenching, squeezing, the Slayer’s own orgasm convulsing her muscles. Their screams of ecstasy mingled and echoed throughout their metal cage, and Spike’s grip loosened as the spasms took control, allowing Buffy to wrench herself free. She clutched at his torso, somehow believing that holding him could make it last even longer.

As the shudders wracking his body dissipated, the vampire slumped forward, his weight pressing against her breasts. Her sigh of contentment filled his ears and he smiled. “Guess this means we’ve officially joined the mile high club,” he commented, rolling to her side without losing the contact of her skin.

Buffy snuggled against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed as she laughed softly at his joke, and she inhaled deeply, drinking in the infusion of his scent. “God, Spike,” she murmured, “I do love you…”

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

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Giles watched Cortina as she swallowed the last of the water, washing down the powdered medicine with a grimace, and handed him back the glass. “You should really rest now,” he said, smoothing the blanket around her.

“Not yet,” she replied. “Not until we’ve done this.”

The Watcher sighed. “I don’t see why this can’t wait.”

“Trust me on this one,” the white demon urged. “Please.” She waited as he leaned over and picked up the book from the table. "Now read the prophecy,” she instructed.

It only took a moment, his blue eyes flicking over the type as he scanned the text. “I still don’t see---.”

“Read it again,” she ordered.

Giles paused, then returned his gaze to the page. After a moment, he started, “It seems perfectly clear that---.”

“Again.” Cortina’s voice was firm but gentle, as if she were coaching a child, but the Watcher didn’t seem to mind as this time, he took a few more moments to pore over the words. When he was done, he looked at her and shook his head.

“Read it out loud.”

“…And Chosen is the Chalice,
To war, with passion, with strength,
Then to devour, with equal fortitude
As the demon possesses her
Body, soul, spirit---.”

“There,” she interrupted. “That’s it.”

He took off his glasses, staring at her in bewilderment. “That’s what?” he queried.

“You don’t see it?”

“No, I don’t,” he replied, shaking his head. “To me, it’s very clear that it’s predicting a cleansing ritual---.”

“Oh, I’m not arguing about that,” Cortina said. “As prophecies go, the ending on that one definitely describes the effects of a demon cleansing. I just think, maybe, we might be worried about the wrong demon.” She waited, expectant, her pale eyes intent on his.

“We can’t be,” Giles disagreed. “Daymon’s made it very obvious that his intention is personal. And besides, as far as we know, he’s the only demon onboard with Buffy and Sp---.” He couldn’t even finish the vampire’s name as the pieces Cortina had seen fell together.

To war…

…an adversary…

Then…as the demon possesses her body…

…oh God, the sex…

Soul…spirit…

…she loves him…

The Watcher looked at his companion, the disbelief etched in his brow. “But…he loves her,” he argued. “He wouldn’t…do that to her…”

Cortina’s voice was low, as she shook her head. “You’re right, he wouldn’t. Not…intentionally.” She rushed to add, “I could be wrong, you know. That’s been known to happen.”

But he didn’t hear her last words as the whirlwind within his head swirled out of control. The prophecy…the demon in the ritual…the one who possessed her…not Daymon…another…

…Spike…

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

He didn’t mean to break the embrace. There so many incentives to stay in it---her breath, softly fanning down his neck as her pulse returned to normal; the curve of her breast as it pressed into his side, the bud of her nipple still hard, still tantalizing; the delicate combination of vanilla and musk wafting to his nostrils. But…her words…she hadn’t…

Spike pulled away, propping himself up on his elbow, heavy brows knitted together in a frown as he gazed down at her. “What did you just say?” he asked.

Buffy’s bottom lip jutted out. “You moved,” she pouted, then realized he’d spoken. “What?”

Her golden hair was splayed across the blankets, a silken tangle that invited, even begged, to be stroked, and the vampire’s long hand reached out, fingertips dancing across her forehead as he brushed away an errant tress. Was it the passion of the moment? Did she even realize what she’d uttered? As often as he’d dreamed it, as desperate as he was to hear it, Spike held no false hopes that the Slayer would, or even could, offer any more than the pleasure of her body, a few stolen moments where she treated him like a friend, like an equal. Even so…she was here; she’d deliberately chosen to board the plane, in spite of outside protestations. Though he’d been too far away to actually hear them, he had witnessed her argument with her Watcher when he’d tried stopping her outside the stable. How had she explained it? “What did you say…to Rupert?” he amended. “Back on the ground. Wouldn’t say he looked exactly thrilled from where I was hanging.”

“Oh, that.” She began fiddling with the loose threads on her blouse, pulling the ones out from around the buttonholes. “I just told him the truth, although I think Giles might’ve been happier this time if I’d actually lied. He was definitely bordering on a full-blown wiggins attack.” Her eyes darted back and forth between their semi-clad bodies. “How come I always seem to lose my pants and you don’t?” the young woman demanded, the tease in her voice lightening its tone.

Slowly, the blond vampire lowered himself back down. So much for confirmation, he thought. Any more questions and I’m goin’ to look like a pathetic wanker. I’ll just assume I didn’t hear it and let it go as an afterglow Slayer thing.

As soon as he’d resumed his prone position, Buffy snuggled up against him, her knee bending, draping her leg over his own. She began tracing abstract designs along his abdomen, nails grazing the flesh ever so slightly, sending shocks of electricity straight to his groin. “As much as I’d rather be playing,” she said, “we need to work on a plan. Something that hurts Daymon in a really huge way, I think. The guy just pisses me off.”

“I must’ve done somethin’ wrong then,” Spike murmured, lost in the sunlight of her hair.

“Why do you say that?”

“’Cause you can still think straight,” he replied.

The Slayer chuckled. “I just said we should. I never said I could.”

“Just point me at somethin’ I can kill,” the vampire declared.

Twisting her body around, Buffy turned her hazel gaze to meet his. “You miss it, don’t you?” Her voice was low, without inflection, and though she didn’t elaborate, they both knew what she was referring to.

It had been some time since Spike had actively considered his pre-chip existence. Ever since he’d realized his feelings for the Slayer, such dwelling had been replaced by an all-consuming focus on the young woman. Now, though, at her prompting, the memories trickled back, and his eyes clouded, averting from hers. “It was easier,” he intoned. “Everything made sense. I knew where I stood, what my place was, where I was goin’. Then someone comes along and decides to change all the rules. Doesn’t give me a choice in the matter, says it’s this way or the highway. So you adjust, learn how to survive all over again. And it’s still you, but it’s not, ‘cause your purpose is different now, and you’re not one hundred percent sure where you fit in anymore.” He broke off, unable to keep the hitch out of his voice, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. God, what he wouldn’t do for a cigarette right now.

She was still watching him when his hands moved from his face. Normally, the blond vamp had no problems reading her; Buffy wore her thoughts like a fashion accessory. Now, though, those classical features were inscrutable. “Where do you want to fit?” she queried.

His lips twisted in a bitter semblance of a smile. “If I knew the answer to that, luv, would I be wastin’ my time waxing all philosophical?” He sobered. “So the answer to your first question would be yes. And no.”

“…No?”

“If I didn’t have this bleedin’ chip in my head, I wouldn’t have here…I wouldn’t have now.” He reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking the curve of her lower lip. “I wouldn’t have you.” Here it was; this was her chance to run. Spike knew vocalizing his claim to her was the surefire way to set the Slayer off, send her bolting as far from him as possible in order to not have to face her own feelings.

But she didn’t move. Instead, she leaned her head into his caress, her eyes closing in what appeared to him, strangely enough, as satisfaction. “Sometimes,” she murmured, “I miss it too.”

Spike pulled his hand away and sat up in mock-surprise. “You’re not wishing for days gone by just ‘cause I was stake bait, are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. Unchipped Spike means Psycho Dru, means big pain in my ass. So no. No missage from me.” Buffy scooted herself up so that the pair were side by side. “What I meant was, sometimes I miss when I wasn’t the Slayer.”

He snorted. “Really?” he asked unbelieving. “You miss being weak, and vulnerable, and not being able to boss around your friends because you’re the Chosen One?”

“No, I miss not having to save the world every night, and having blood-free clothing, and thinking the hardest thing I’d ever have to decide is what to wear to school the next day.” She punched him in the arm. “And I don’t boss around my friends.”

“Look,” Spike said, suddenly serious. “About what I said earlier. Don’t be fussed about tellin’ the whelp about me. We’ll get this Daymon mess sorted, and then when we’re back in Sunnydale, you just do what’s goin’ to make you comfortable, OK?”

She looked at him wide-eyed. “Since when did you turn into Mr. Sensitivity?” Buffy joked. “Don’t tell me this is what you’re like after sex, ‘cause have to admit, it’s a little on the freaky side. Good freaky,” she was quick to reassure, “but still just a little weird.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you find out a lot of things you never knew before,” the vampire said. “It’s amazin’ what you can learn when you finally open your eyes.”

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

Celie watched them from the corner of the room, her black eyes hooded, arms folded across her chest. It was just the four young people now; the older man who’d demanded she help them had yet to return. Without his guidance, the quartet seemed at a loss, wandering aimlessly through the stacks, engaging in mindless chatter about nonsense topics. What in the world was a Scooby dance?

“It always comes back to a library,” Xander was saying. “You blow one up, another appears in its place. Kinda like a bad zit.”

“I think it’s cool,” the redheaded witch replied. She kept touching the books, scanning the titles, moving from one row to the next. “Do you have any idea how much knowledge is contained in this one room? I’d imagine there’s stuff in here we couldn’t even begin to conceive about.”

“And that would be our daily affirmation, courtesy of Willow the research queen,” expounded Xander.

“Am I the only one who didn’t know about Spike and Buffy?” This came from the sharp-faced girl who’d barely left the young man’s side since they’d returned. Celie had yet to figure out her role in this odd dynamic. “This is big news. Why wasn’t I told?”

“It kinda snuck up on us, Ahn,” the young man reassured. “Trust me when I say, there is no way something this big could be kept secret for long.”

Celie caught the look the two witches exchanged before disappearing around a corner. They knew, had known for longer than Xander obviously, yet there seemed a sympathy about the knowledge. Did they actually support such a union? Perhaps her earlier doubts about selecting the young man as an ally in finding Spike had been unfounded.

Behind her, the library door opened, and a distracted Giles rushed in, several books tucked under his arm, keeping his head bowed as he scurried to the desk. “Right, now, where were we?” he asked, directing the question to no one in particular. Celie frowned as the four converged on the new arrival. He appeared…different than when they’d parted…more in…disarray. Something had happened; something was wrong.

“How’s Cortina?” asked Willow.

“Cortina? Oh, ummm, recuperating very nicely, thank you. We had an interesting…discussion.” He glanced around, peering over his glasses when he spotted the black witch seated in the corner. “Come here,” the Watcher ordered, the tone of his voice begging no room for disobedience.

Rising to her full height, Celie stiffly crossed the room until she stood before him, cold black eyes level with his blue ones. “I am not accustomed to being treated so rudely,” she stated.

“Then perhaps you should consider not hurting those we care about.” His words were brittle, edged with anger, and she could see him consciously struggling to control his emotions. “Now, about Daymon’s location---.”

“Why should I help you?” she queried.

“Because if you don’t,” the young man interjected, “we may just decide Elvis gets a little midnight snack---.”

“Xander!” Everyone was shocked at the harshness in Giles’ voice, the sparks that flew from his eyes as his head whipped around to glare at the construction worker, and all four younger people visibly shrank away.

For the dark witch, the sudden command he exhibited only seemed to raise her already rising respect for the Chosen One’s mentor. Out loud, she said, “Are you going to kill him?”

“What?” He seemed rattled by her question, frowning behind his glasses.

“Daymon. If your intent is to kill him, then yes, I will do everything I can to help you.”

The Watcher’s eyes narrowed. “You understand there will be no trade this time. You won’t be getting Spike as a reward just for helping us get Buffy back.”

“Do I get to live?”

Her question surprised him, but it was the coldness in her eyes that unnerved him even more. Giles stuttered in reply, “Well, of course---.”

Celie brushed past him, and began leafing through the books on the desk. “Where is your map?” she demanded. Quickly, Willow handed over the folded paper from the duffel, but the dark witch only glanced at it disdainfully before dismissing it. “Your world map,” she elaborated.

The redhead looked to Giles for help. “Bottom shelf in the corner,” he directed, then turned back to their unlikely conspirator. “You seem awfully…eager to help us find your employer.”

“Ex-employer,” she clarified, her face hardening. “It’s really very simple. He betrayed my trust. I do not enjoy being made a fool of. Besides,” she added, taking the book of maps from Willow as the Wicca returned to the desk, “Daymon is a monster. All demons should die.”

She didn’t see the looks passed between the young people as she flipped expertly through the pages, eyes darting and fingers scanning as she found the plane’s destination. “There,” Celie declared, and laying down the book, pointed to the tiny peninsula.

Giles sighed as he stared down at the atlas. “As I feared,” he murmured. “It might as well be the moon.”

“But Greece is good news,” the dark witch argued. At the group’s apparent confusion, she continued. “To fly such a distance requires almost an entire day, and even then, Daymon must finish the journey by boat. Cape Tainaron is far too mountainous for aircraft to land safely.” She looked directly at Willow. “That should allow you plenty of time to teleport everyone you wish.”

The redhead squirmed under the woman’s stare. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence and all, but…I haven’t exactly got the right mix yet on the whole, you know, teleporting thing.”

“It’s quite simple. I could teach you what you need to know,” Celie offered. “I would do it myself if my powers were still intact.”

“Did you say Cape…Tainaron?” interrupted Giles, his brow wrinkled in concentration.

The dark witch nodded. “Daymon’s home is in the mountains there.”

“Why?” asked Xander. “What’s so special about Cape Ta…what’s it called?”

“Cape Tainaron is the modern name,” the Watcher reiterated. “In ancient Greece, it was called Taenarum.”

Celie looked at the older man with surprise. “You know quite a bit about my homeland,” she said.

“Oh! Oh!” Willow brightened. “Taenarum! I remember that from doing the research on Elvis! Mythology says that there’s a cave there that was used to travel to the Underworld. Hercules used it to kidnap Cerberus, and Orpheus used it to try and get back Eurydice.” She deflated slightly. “But isn’t that just more of the whole myth thing? I mean, there really isn’t a cave, is there?”

They turned expectantly to the dark witch, who regarded them evenly. “Yes, there is. And it’s on the edge of Daymon’s property.”

“That can’t be good,” commented Anya.

“There is no current threat,” Celie assured. “It has been sealed since I was a child.”

“Still, better to be prepared,” Giles said. “Now we just have to figure out how to beat Buffy and Spike there.”

“Can’t Celie do the teleport spell?” Willow asked, but under the older man’s withering gaze, she ducked her eyes. “OK, maybe not.”

“What about the Council?” suggested Tara. “M-m-maybe they can help.”

“There’s no need for that.” The group turned to face an even paler than normal Cortina standing in the doorway. “I can take care of your travel arrangements.”

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

“Yes, sir, everything will be ready for your arrival.” The stout woman replaced the telephone receiver, sighing heavily. She had been expecting her master’s phone call for several days now; however, with half the staff sent off on holiday on her employer’s previous orders, she was unsure she had the resources necessary to gather everything he’d requested. Much of it was already in place, but he’d included a few surprises in this latest update, additions that would prove unwieldy in acquiring on such short notice. She would get them, of course. To fail Daymon was simply not an option.

The one thing that did surprise her was his announcement that Celandia would not be returning and to clear her room of its belongings. The witch had been a fixture within the household for years and the housekeeper knew for a fact that her master had grown quite dependent on her particular skills. Perhaps he had learned of Celie’s crush, and had dismissed her as a result. That would certainly fuel the staff’s gossip chain for a few days. Although the young woman had been discreet in her affections, most of his employees knew how she idolized Daymon; it was certainly only a matter of time before he discovered it for himself. Most likely, knowledge of such emotions was enough for him to let her go.

She looked over her list again, her lips moving as she re-read the items. Perhaps she’d send Titus and Nico to the city for the cage and the chains. But Thanos was going to need help. The extra work her master had requested be done at the cave would require more than one set of hands. Maybe the gardener and his son…

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

Her elegant fingers gripped the doorframe as Cortina felt another wave of dizziness tilt the world around her. Although she knew it was just a side effect of the herbs, she began to wonder if perhaps she should’ve stayed in bed after all, waited just a little longer before venturing out to join the group. But she was here now, and a very worried Rupert was practically running across the room to help hold her up, so how could she go back?

His strong arm slipped around her, gliding across her back, bracing her to stand even straighter. Although the demon knew she didn’t have to, she pressed herself slightly into his side, matching his hip with her own, her breast melding against the lean muscles under his shirt. Cortina felt him momentarily stiffen at such close contact, then hid her smile as he relaxed into her touch. She knew the younger people didn’t see it---couldn’t see it really, not with his mentor role so firmly embedded in their minds---but Rupert Giles was a man of intense passions, caged within that Watcher façade he wore with pride, waiting for just the right moment to allow those urges to run free. As they began the trek toward the desk, she caught the bemused eyes of Willow. Well, maybe one of them could see it…

“I thought you agreed to get some sleep,” Giles was chastising as she eased herself into the chair behind the desk.

“I changed my mind. Woman’s prerogative, you know.” Noting the open atlas, her smile faded. “So it is Greece. Just my luck he’d take her to one of the sunnier places on the planet.”

The Watcher hovered behind her, leaning over her shoulder to point to the exact location on the map. “Well, as long as you’re here, I don’t suppose you know anything about Taenarum, do you?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid anything related to the Mediterranean is out of my depth. When one has a sunlight issue, one tends to avoid the bright, shiny places.”

“But…you’re in California,” Giles said, frowning.

“And that’s a story for another day,” Cortina laughed. “Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll fill you in on the details some time.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, a wicked smile curling her lips, sending a furious blush across the Watcher’s cheeks. “But I can still get you there, if you want.”

“I didn’t know Vroleks could teleport,” said Anya.

“We can’t,” the demon replied. “But I have a lot of friends. I’ll just call in a few favors, get somebody to help you guys out.” She looked up at Giles. “Have you told them yet?”

The older man ducked his head. “No, not yet.”

“Told us what?” asked Xander.

The group looked at Giles expectantly. Sighing, he picked up the Tract of Telemus and opened it to the appropriate page. “Cortina has a rather…unique interpretation of the prophecy.”

“Great,” the construction worker groaned. “In Watcher talk, unique is just another word for bad news for Buffy.”

“It’s just an interpretation,” Giles argued. “There’s no saying that it’s correct.”

“Oh god, yes,” Cortina chimed in. “There’s nothing I want more than to be wrong about this one.”

“And that interpretation would be…?” coaxed Xander.

The older man cleared his throat. “Well, Cortina seems to think that perhaps Daymon isn’t the threat in this cleansing ritual.”

“You think there’s another d-d-demon involved?” a worried Tara asked.

“Yes.” He took a deep breath. “The prophecy lends itself to suggest that maybe…Spike is the actual danger to Buffy.”

The announcement was met with stunned silence as the occupants of the room digested this latest bit of news. Without saying a word, Willow reached for the book in Giles’ hands, taking it from him without argument, and carefully re-read the text. “Oh, goddess…” she murmured, before looking up to face the older man, a thin line between her brows. “How did we miss that?”

“Because we didn’t know about recent…developments,” he replied.

Xander raised his hand. “OK, for those of us who are prophecy-deficient, do you care to share where exactly our favorite undead fits into all this? And just so you know, I’m kidding about the favorite part.”

Cortina watched the worried looks pass between the redheaded witch and the ex-librarian. “Why didn’t you tell me they’re all in just as much denial as you are, Rupert?” she commented. “If it wasn’t so sad, it would almost be kind of cute.”

“I don’t think this is really the time---.”

“No, you’re right.” The white demon took the book from Willow’s hand and laid it down in front of her. “OK, boys and girls, time for Prophecy Interpretation 101. And don’t worry about taking any notes. The only test you’re going to have to worry about passing is getting Buffy and Spike back in good health.” She took a deep breath. “All right. What have you learned about cleansing rituals?”

“They don’t work,” Anya said. “Well, not generally anyway.”

“True, but we’re not up to that yet. More basic. Give me a definition.”

“Someone wants to rid themselves of their demon self, so they find a chalice, do the ritual, and voila! Demon-free mortal,” the young shopkeeper explained.

“Right.” Cortina pointed to the first few lines of the passage. “The chalice acts as a receptacle for the demon once it’s been expelled. There are a ton of awful side effects, including a mass summoning of other demons and a tendency for both the Chalice and new mortal to get killed, which is why the truly desperate are really the only ones who ever attempt it.”

“Still not seeing where Spike fits in,” said Xander, shaking his head.

“Even if we didn’t have the drawing of Buffy in the book,” Giles continued, picking up where Cortina left off, “the first few lines describe her fairly accurately so we can safely assume she’s going to be used as the Chalice. But it also describes a demon, which could be interpreted as the one in the ritual.”

“But that’s Daymon,” the young man argued. “Buffy told us he was a guy, and then he showed up here all Godzilla-like, so obviously he’s really a demon who wants to be a guy.” He paused. “OK, now I’m confusing myself.”

“Seers are generally not the most coherent of people,” Cortina added. “They love talking in circles so you have to learn to look at the prophecy and pull out only the most important parts. In the first line of this one, Chosen, equals Chalice, equals Buffy.”

“Right. Got that.”

“Then you’ve got this description of a demon. One she ‘wars,’ or fights with, one who also possesses her. Body, soul, and spirit.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes kind. “I know Spike’s not your favorite person, Xander, but you do realize that Buffy loves him, don’t you? That’s the soul and spirit part. That’s probably the part you’re missing. I mean, I assume you knew they were having sex, which is of course the his-possessing-her-body bit.”

“Spike and Buffy were having sex?” Anya’s eyes were wide as she looked at her boyfriend. “I thought you said they just thought they had feelings for each other.”

“Does it really matter right now, Ahn?” He turned his worried brown gaze to Giles. “What do you think? Do you think Cortina’s interpretation is right? No offense,” he was quick to assure the white demon.

She shrugged. “None taken.”

“I don’t know,” the Watcher finally admitted. “But the possibility of Spike getting involved with the ritual somehow is certainly viable, considering how he always manages to be with Buffy when Daymon is around.”

“I don’t think Spike would ever hurt Buffy,” offered Tara.

“As much as it pains me to admit it,” Giles said, “I don’t either. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be prepared, though, just in case.”

“So bottom line is, Spike’s demon might be getting a new address, mainly one in the Buffy zone, right?” asked Xander.

“Correct,” the older man agreed. “But that’s only if the ritual occurs. So, our job is going to be to ensure it doesn’t happen at all. Thus, end of story, end of confusing prophecy.”

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

He heard it before she did, a low rumble that disappeared almost as quickly as it made its presence known. Buffy blushed. “Sorry,” she said.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Spike asked. The deepening of the rose in her cheeks was the only answer he needed. Jumping up from their comfortable position on the floor, the vampire began going through the boxes he’d wasted so much energy earlier in kicking around. “Gotta be something to eat around here someplace,” he grumbled. “Wanker thought of everything else, why not food?” His nose led him to an untouched crate near the wall, and he pulled off the top to expose an assortment of fruit and pre-packed sandwiches. “Well, it’s not exactly fine dining, but it’ll do.”

The young woman jumped up and practically ran to the vampire’s side. “I didn’t realize how starved I was,” she commented. “I think I could even eat some of Dawn’s cooking, at this point.”

He stood back and watched her sink her teeth into a pear, the juice dribbling down her chin. It was all he could do not to shake his head. When the Slayer was hungry, any sense of etiquette went flying out the window. He really must remember to have a word with Joyce when they returned to Sunnydale.

“What about you?” Buffy asked between bites. “You haven’t had any blood since Cortina’s. Aren’t you hungry?”

Spike shrugged. “I’ve gone longer. I’ll do.”

Almost unconsciously, Buffy’s hand went to her neck, fingering the tiny marks that were the only physical reminder she had of her earlier donation to the vampire. “You…really should…eat,” she said

He cocked his head, mesmerized by the movement of her tiny hand. The memories of her blood surging past his teeth…steaming down his throat…energizing his veins…brought back his erection, and he felt his skin tighten as he relived them. “You don’t need to do that,” the vampire managed to get out.

“What? You’re turning down a fresh meal? That’s not like you, Spike.” Setting down the fruit, Buffy crossed the distance between them in just a couple steps, flipping her hair back over her shoulder to expose the length of her neck even more. “What if I said…I want you to?”

The muscles in his jaw twitched as his teeth clicked shut. She did not just say what he thought she said…did she? He could honestly go without feeding for quite a bit longer; there was no actual need for her to make such an offer, and yet here she was, and all she was missing was the silver platter. “Wouldn’t be necessary, luv,” the vamp said, taking a step back and nodding his head at the crate. “I didn’t get left out of the party this time.”

The Slayer glanced down and saw the packets of blood stowed carefully under the produce. She was shocked at the sense of dismay that rocked her core when she spied them; yes, it was a genuine offer on her part but she’d thought it was only because she worried about his wellbeing. This strange sense of loss seemed to indicate something deeper than that, something more correctly rooted in a need to share with him something which he truly desired. Go ahead, the tiny voice in her head whispered. Do it anyway…

“Besides,” Spike was saying, “you need to keep your strength up.”

“So do you,” Buffy murmured, and inched toward him, her hazel eyes locked with his blue. “Don’t you want it?”

“God yes…” The admission was a gurgle, choking his throat, and he tried to calm the nerves that suddenly seemed out of control. She couldn’t know what she was doing to him, couldn’t see how he longed for just one more taste, one more embrace… “But it’s not necessary, Buffy,” he asserted, trying to keep his voice steady. “We can’t be messin’ around like this when---.”

She silenced him with her mouth, her hot tongue sweeping into his, her hand stealing down to his waist. Spike felt her index finger trace around the head of his cock, brushing against the tip before tickling its way down the throbbing vein, and moaned into her kiss. Damn it if she wasn’t doing this deliberately, distracting him with the pleasure of her touch, clouding his head to anything but desire for her…

The vampire broke away, ducking his head so that she couldn’t see his unwillingness to do so in his eyes. “I don’t want games from you, Slayer,” he growled. “You keep that up, and you’ll be in for a rude awakening.”

Buffy frowned, trying to catch her breath. What had she done wrong? “I’m not playing games,” she said.

He turned glittering eyes toward her. “I love you, you know that. But do you know what means for me? Do you know what loving you makes me want to do?” He began to pace around the room, keeping his distance, his face growing more and more wild as he spoke. “Everything I do, everything I think, everything I am, is flavored with you. I go out for small spot of violence, I wonder if I’ll run into you. I get settled in my chair to watch a little telly, I wonder if you’re goin’ to come stormin’ in to interrupt me. Not a minute goes by when you’re not in my head in some way, and it gets to the point where I think if I don’t see you, I’ll go completely barmy. And now,” the vamp gazed at her through his thick lashes, his head low, “you’ve gone and given me an actual taste for it all. Let me feel firsthand what its like to have you, even gone so far as lettin’ me drink your Slayer blood. Do you know what I want when I see you, Buffy?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “To devour you.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “And you don’t think that’s what I want when I look at you, Spike?” she whispered. “You think you’ve got this monopoly on feelings? It’s taken me a long time to actually admit any of this to myself, and damned if I’m going to let you just sweep it all under the rug and pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“Admit what? That Big Bad might actually be good for a bit of the rough and tumble?”

“Is that what love is for you? Sex?” she demanded. “’Cause yeah, pretty amazing stuff, but lemme tell you, it’s not nearly the entire package. But if that’s what it means to you, maybe I’ve made a mistake. Maybe you’re not who I thought you were. And maybe falling in love with you was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

There it was again…those words…The blond vampire stopped his prowl around the hold, turning to face her with hands thrust deep into his pockets. He hadn’t misheard her this time; there was no orgasm to blame it on. She’d said it…well, nearly said it. “You know me better than that,” he responded. “Of all the people in that godforsaken hellhole of a town, you’re the last one who should think I equate love with sex. I mean, Christ! What more do I bloody have to do to prove it to you?”

Buffy’s face softened as she felt the anger dissipate from her body. He was right, as usual. She knew better than that, but the heat of her frustration sometimes overwhelmed her better judgment, releasing words from her mouth that she didn’t really mean, didn’t really believe. She needed to make this better, but how, when everything she said seemed to make it worse? “Nothing,” the young woman said. “You’ve done so much for me already. What right do I have to ask for anything more?”

He was at her side before she could blink, tipping her head up to look into his face. “Say it,” he said, his sapphire gaze searching hers, begging her to give him what he needed to hear. “You want to wipe the slate clean? Say it.”

There was no mistaking the need in his voice and Buffy’s heart ached when she heard it. What had he ever truly asked for? She’d taken so much---his help, his pride, she even would’ve had his life if Celie had had her way---and not once had he ever really asked for anything in return. It was so simple and she felt like such a bitch for not having given it to him sooner.

“I love you, Spike. I know I talk big, and I make a big show about being the strong one---you know, put a brave face on for the gang, make them believe that Buffy the Vampire Slayer can handle it all. But deep down, that’s not entirely true. ‘Cause those dark places that live inside me scare the living bejeezus out of me sometimes, and you are the only person who has ever really gotten that. You see through all the shit---you always have---and, you don’t care. You love me anyway. Hell, I’m beginning to think you love me because of it. You are probably the only person I know who isn’t trying to change me, or mold me into something that I’m not. And that means more to me than you could ever imagine.” She paused, taking a deep breath, steadying her racing pulse before she could even think about continuing. “Being with you---just being in your presence---wakes me up like nothing else in this world ever has. Everything seems bigger, everything seems brighter, and then when you’re not there…” Buffy shook her head. “God, I must sound like an idiot to you, trying to explain this. I sound like one to me.”

Spike’s gentle stroke of her cheek as he cupped her face sent shivers down her spine. “If memory serves,” he commented in a low voice, “I never asked you to explain anything. I just wanted to hear you actually say the words.”

Unbidden, the smile spread across the Slayer’s face as she leaned forward, her mouth only inches from his ear, her skin just a promise away. “I love you, Spike,” she whispered…

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

She was asleep, curled into his shoulder like a kitten, the beating of her heart a welcome tattoo against his skin. The combination of the food and the sex had taken its toll on her quite quickly after her declaration, and Buffy’d found herself unable to hold back the yawns. Pulling her down onto the blankets, Spike had wrapped his long arms around her tiny form, and within moments of resting her head in the niche of his neck, the Slayer was out like a light.

He couldn’t sleep, not after everything…the rest he’d had back at the stable…the rush of their earlier argument…and especially the avowal of her true feelings. In so many ways, he felt like he had after he’d first been turned, unsure, eager to please, floating on a cloud as the constant refrain of she loves me, she actually loves me tumbled about his head. Of course, he had over a hundred years of cynicism and experience under his duster now; he wasn’t exactly the naïve, nancyboy poet of yesteryear. There was no reason for him to worry about what to do, or how to please her…except he would, because that was who he was. Spike…ever the hopeless romantic…

Buffy sighed, rolling over in her slumber with a small smile on her lips. Not yet willing to break the contact with her, the blond vampire matched her movement, slipping his forearm around her waist, burying his nose in her hair. His attention was rewarded, as the young woman unconsciously nestled her bottom into his hips, her buttocks cupping him perfectly, bringing his erection firmly back to life. As much as he loved the idea of just ravishing her there and then, Spike knew that time was ticking away. Each minute they spent in the air meant they were that much closer to Daymon’s little cleansing ritual. And they had yet to figure out a plan of escape.

He didn’t like the sound of this prophecy Giles had dug up. Although he’d never heard of this particular rite, the vamp knew that such things existed. Almost anything was possible in this world; he’d learned that ages ago. All you had to do was be willing to pay the price.

How long before they landed? he wondered. For that matter, where in the hell were they going? Buffy had her money on Greece, seeing as that was where the bastard was from, and Spike hoped to God that she was wrong. He and Dru had been to the islands once many years ago, and the whole experience wasn’t exactly fraught with happy memories. That, combined with the incessant sunshine, was enough to make him want to avoid the place altogether. But since the Slayer seemed fairly certain, those were the contingencies he had to plan for.

There was a niggle of an idea brewing somewhere in the back of his chipped head, but that damn sunlight issue kept coming back to bite him in the ass. What he wouldn’t give for the Gem of Amarra right about now; then they’d have no problem getting away from the wankers. Him and Buffy could just hop out of the plane, give them a taste of the old one-two, then sort out that Daymon once and for all. He couldn’t help the wrinkle of disgust that pinched his nose. No way was he going to let the Slayer hog that one; too much had happened over the past few days for him not to get his share of the killing when it came down. And Daymon was most definitely going to feel the pain.

Against his chest, the Slayer suddenly twitched, jerking in her slumber, and the blond vampire felt her heartbeat begin to quicken. He leaned forward, gazing over her shoulder, and saw that her smile had disappeared, replaced by a tiny line between her brows. Dreams, perhaps even nightmares…? Although he knew it wasn’t possible, Spike wished that he could somehow crawl into her head, help her fight whatever personal demons were destroying her rest. No one hurt his Buffy, not in his world.

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

She couldn’t move…why…was she tied down? Couldn’t feel the bindings…so no…but she still couldn’t move and she had no idea why. Magic…had to be, that was the only answer…which only posed the question, who was doing the magicking? Buffy couldn’t see---overhead was pitch black---and she couldn’t turn her head to check if there was light from anywhere else. A void…that’s what she was in…nothingness…

And then she was blind…the sudden flash of radiance a shock to her system…dripping its fingers of flame down the sides of her body…and it was there…and she couldn’t stop it…

Burning…crimson alternating with white…and it slammed into her chest, stealing her breath…couldn’t…replaced by didn’t…no need…and the hunger…

And she was rising…straightening…and all of a sudden she could see again…the world around her tinged in gold…

An earthen floor…the carved walls…for a moment, she thought it was Cortina’s…but not the white demon’s…another…and the world began to quake…the ground to open…an ocean of gaping mouths…hungry…needing to be sated…

It wasn’t time…she wasn’t ready…but they didn’t care…leaping at her…attaching themselves to her body…sucking…draining her lifeforce…eating her very core…

And then there he was…forcing his way through the throng…him but not him…beaten back…and forward again…grabbing hold…pulling her to the ground…and then his mouth…joining the others…and all she wanted to do was look into his face…

…But she couldn’t…

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

As Giles rubbed tiredly at his eyes, his glasses dangling from his free hand, Cortina reached down to pull out the bottom drawer of her desk. “I think you need a little pick-me-up,” she said, extracting a dark flask from its depths.

“What I need is a good nights sleep,” he muttered.

“Well, yes, that too,” the white demon conceded. “But this will help.”

The Watcher replaced his glasses and peered at the label. “I thought Buffy said you were allergic to alcohol,” he said.

“I am. I just keep that for…special guests.” She held up a warning finger. “But don’t you dare go telling Spike that I had some.” At his confusion, Cortina rolled her eyes. “Have you ever seen a vampire drink?” she commented. “They are not exactly masters of control.”

The liquor burned as it swilled down his throat, leaving a fiery almond trail in its wake. Giles could feel it etch its way down his gullet, and his eyes almost immediately began watering.

Cortina giggled. “I probably should’ve warned you, it’s a little strong.”

Before he could respond, the ex-librarian felt a languor begin seeping into his muscles, a molasses swamp begin forming in his head. “And it works amazingly…fast…”

“Well, better you than me,” she commented. “I’ll have one of my men escort you to a spare room.” As he began to sway, her hand darted out, grabbing his arm, steadying him. “Or maybe you can just sleep in here.”

“Somehow…that seems like…a very good idea,” Giles murmured, using the desk to help support his weight. He managed to crack a smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think…you’d poisoned me.”

“No,” Cortina said gently, rising so that he could take her chair. “It’s only poison to me.” She hovered behind him as he settled, her hand reaching down and pushing the hair away from his eyes. “You sleep,” she murmured.

“We need…Celie should be…”

“I’ll send somebody to take her to another room so that you can rest. As long as I’m around, she can’t use her magic, so you shouldn’t be at any risk.” As the Watcher rested his head on his folded arms, the white demon leaned over and kissed his temple. “Good night, Rupert.”

He heard her leave the library, her robe rustling softly as the door clicked shut behind her. The combination of exhaustion and that mysterious alcohol was melting his body into the chair, dragging his eyelids down. To sleep, perchance to dream…

“Do you all consort with demons?”

The voice filtered through the fog in his mind, and Giles lifted his head, blinking rapidly as he tried to focus. Someone had spoken…oh yes…the witch… “Pardon?” he asked, trying his best to sound coherent.

Celie’s black eyes bore into him from her chair in the corner. “The Chosen One has a vampire for a lover, and you are obviously on intimate terms with…” She gestured abstractly to the door behind her. “…her. Is this standard practice amongst those who claim to be fighting to free our world of demons?”

“We’re not…intimate,” he managed, and reached for his glasses. Perhaps wearing them would make him wake up. “Cortina’s a friend. She’s merely helping us.”

The dark witch snorted in contempt. “You are just as blind as those children you lead,” she said. “She will turn on you. They all do.”

Giles frowned. “Is this a personal vendetta for you or are you just completely daft?”

Slowly, Celie stood, gliding across the room until she stood before the desk again. “Are you not curious as to why I wanted the vampire?” she queried.

“Actually, no.”

“Yet you followed the Chosen One to save him. If you care so little about him, why would you do that?”

Although the questions were cutting through his fatigue, the Watcher was still struggling to stay awake. “For Buffy’s sake,” he replied, and rubbed again at his eyes.

“Yes…Buffy…” Her long hands began running down the sides of the desk, a hypnotic dance as she slid herself around to his side. “For one so young, she certainly inspires…devotion among those who encounter her.”

“She’s a remarkable young woman,” Giles argued. The witch’s hands seemed to be everywhere, here floating above the desk, there gliding along his arm. He didn’t know if it was a side effect of Cortina’s alcohol or a product of his own imagination, but he could’ve sworn she was deliberately trying to entice him.

“Do you wonder what her life would be like, should she not be forced to follow the path of the Slayer?” Celie questioned.

What if there were no more vampires for her to kill? What if there was no need for you to train her to fight, to lead her in the battle against the demon world? It’s possible, you know. There are magics, very old, very powerful, that could make it so.”

“I told you…no trade…” He was losing the battle, his lids growing heavier by the moment, and it was all he could do to remain sitting up. What was she suggesting? No vampires? How was that possible…?

“I am not asking for a trade,” Celie crooned. “Merely for you to…consider the possibilities. A world where young girls are not forced to die battling evils they shouldn’t even know about. A world where a man can choose his own destiny, to love instead of to war…to watch his own children grow instead of watching his charges get slaughtered…to die in the comfort of his own bed instead of being savaged by ungodly demons. Is that not a world that appeals to you, Mr. Giles?”

The pictures she painted danced across his mind’s eye in a kaleidoscope of images, dizzying him into dropping his head. I’ll just shut my eyes for a moment, he thought, just to clear my thoughts…

Her eyes were inscrutable as she watched him drift off to sleep. She needed no response; the seeds she’d sown were planted, taking hold in his subconscious. Even without her magic, she knew he would dream of those very things she’d described, and he would wake with an overwhelming ache to have them. Perhaps the Watcher would not be an active ally, but Celie refused to believe that he would stand in her way, should she get close enough to the vampire again. And the opening was all that she needed.

The witch’s gaze settled on the flask still sitting on the desktop. If they’d wished her to be helpless, they should never have allowed her to sit in on their conversations. She had honestly believed that her powers were gone, that she had no recourse for getting them back. But the white-haired hellbitch---what did they call her? Cortina?---had admitted that Celie was only helpless for as long as she remained in the demon’s presence. Perhaps the solution to her current quandary lay in the drink, or rather, in Cortina’s purported allergy.

The shuffle from outside the library door startled her from her reverie, and the witch turned to face the door, blocking the desk, her fingers wrapping around the alcohol. As the entrance opened to reveal two of the horned demons who guarded the caves, she slid the flask into her waistband, under her blouse, staying as straight as possible in order to avoid their suspicion. Her face remained stoic as they grabbed her arms, yanking her away from the sleeping Watcher. Just don’t search me, she thought, and stumbled out into the hall.

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

The sunshine beat down on them as they stood before the cave, their tools slung over their shoulders, eyes squinting against the bright afternoon light. This was not a part of the property that was frequently visited. Most of the staff chose to ignore it, avoiding it at all costs, and it was only when the master made a direct request that it got approached. Even then, though, there were often arguments about who would go, and who would stay. It was then that Thora would step in to mediate, making the final decision in a tone of voice that broached no disagreement. One did not argue with the stout housekeeper; she was Daymon’s right hand and when he was away, her word was law.

“We should hurry,” Thanos said, shifting the weight of his pack. “We can finish before sundown if we don’t waste our time.”
He was only voicing what all of them were thinking. Of the group, not one man would’ve been comfortable being in the cave after dark. Even though it had been sealed for over twenty years, the stories still abounded---screams of agonizing pain echoing throughout the countryside, ethereal forms walking along the mountain, the dead rising to avenge injustices. Some would argue that they were only myths, tales concocted to explain natural phenomena, and that those who believed were fools being led around by their cowardice. But Thanos and his men knew differently, had seen the truth, had faced the mask of the monster…and feared it.

Silently, they crossed the threshold of the cave, their footsteps all of a sudden too loud for the tiny space, forced to go single-file as it narrowed. It was only a matter of feet before it widened, but in those few seconds it took to traverse the path, each felt the terror choke his breath, and kept his eyes straight ahead on the back of the man in front of him. Don’t look down, don’t look around…thus was the mantra of the ones who were subject to duties within the cave. To do so was to invite madness, or worse; they had all been witness to the last victim the cave had claimed. Even though it had been over a year earlier, Thora still arranged to have fresh flowers placed on his grave every week…

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

They slept. In the early morning hours, the caves rang silent, void of life and bereft of activity as its inhabitants embraced the world of dreams. Even the guards slumbered, lost in whirlwind images, relaxed for the first time in weeks. There were no midnight vigils, no uninvited visitors roaming the edges of the tunnels, no quiet distractions to wile away the time. Tranquility reigned throughout Cortina’s territory, and the night crept on.

In the rooms that housed guests, anxiety had been replaced by anticipation, knowledge that when they awoke, they would be on their way to save Buffy. Partners cozied up to each other, curling into familiar bodies, holding onto loved ones’ resting forms as if they were the only two left in a sea of debris. Tara slept with a smile curling her lips, her head nestled against Willow’s breast, her arms tucked safely around the redhead’s waist. In Xander’s room, an exhausted Anya lay wrapped in the bed’s comforter, forcing her boyfriend to press himself directly against her in an attempt to share the warmth. And in the library, a weary Watcher dreamt of laughing little blonde girls playing in the sunshine.

The silence was deceptive though, and an onlooker would’ve been easily lulled into believing that all was well behind the closed doors. Two in particular were not asleep, were not relaxed, were instead making plans, each of her own design and method. Neither wanted to wake the others, and they worked as quietly as they could.

…And still the others slept…

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

She knew she should rest, have some more time to heal before summoning assistance, but Cortina feared that waiting would prove to be a mistake, allowing anything to happen to Buffy and Spike in the interim. Better to be safe than sorry, she thought, and lit the last of the candles.

The reaction was instantaneous. The candles immediately extinguished, replacing the ambient light with darkness, relighting themselves just seconds later. The white demon looked up from her seat on the floor and smiled.

“Don’t ever stop answering on the first ring,” she teased. “It’s so refreshing.”

The gaseous form before her shimmered. “I suppose you’re going to make me take human form.”

“Do you mind?” asked Cortina. “I’ve had a rough night and watching you fade in and out is just going to give me a headache.”

The shape seemed to shrug. “Suit yourself.” It wavered, solidified, wavered again, before settling into a woman’s figure…a very large woman’s figure. She towered over Cortina, easily outstripping her by a foot and several hundred pounds, with a shower of long green hair tumbling over her shoulders. The smile on her face was genuine, though, and as her body finished rooting itself, she collapsed on the nearby bed. “Corporeal forms are so…exhausting,” she complained. “One of these days, I’m going to make you come visit me. See how you like being bossed around by your host.”

“I’d love to, Doll, but first you’ve got to stop living in the clouds. Still have the sunlight issue, you know.”

Dolly grimaced. “Oh yeah.” She sat up, gazing down at the white demon, and was about to speak when she suddenly sniffed. The demon frowned. “You’ve got people here,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“That’s kind of why I called.” Cortina folded her legs underneath her, trying to ease the strain sitting on the floor was putting on the wound in her abdomen. “They need to get to Greece as soon as possible.”

“Isn’t that what they have planes for?”

“Normally, I’d say yes. But there are extenuating circumstances this time.”

“I can’t believe you want me to help a bunch of humans,” Dolly snorted, lifting her bulk from the bed. “That takes a lot of nerve after what happened with those Brazilians. What the hell’s going through your head? Why would you get yourself mixed up with…” She stopped, cutting herself off and audibly groaned. “Oh, god, please. Don’t tell me. This is about a guy.”

Cortina couldn’t help the blush that flew to her cheeks. “Well, yes, there is a guy, but I got involved with Buffy’s problems before Rupert ever showed up---.”

“Buffy?” The incredulity in her voice boomed throughout the room. “It’s bad enough you’re caught up with humans, but you want me to help one named Buffy? How pathetic is that?”

“I wouldn’t talk, Dolly,” the white demon retorted, stressing the other’s name. “And she’s not just any human. She’s the Vampire Slayer.”

Her guest flopped back down onto the bed. “Oh, this just gets better and better,” she commented. “Have you conveniently forgotten she kills our kinds as well? She’s been on the Demon Corps’ 10 Most Wanted List ever since that Ascension debacle two years ago. They find out you’re helping her, they’re going to drag you out into the sunshine faster than you can say Hellmouth.”

“They’re not going to find out.” Cortina’s voice was firm. “Because it’s none of their business. And Buffy’s not like what you’re thinking. She’s a lot more on the ball than any of the other Slayers I’ve met. Plus, she’s got a vampire for a boyfriend.”

“Oh, big surprise there. Slayers have been sleeping with vampires for centuries.”

“Maybe, but this time it’s different.” The white demon’s blue eyes softened. “C’mon, you remember what it’s like to be young and in love.”

The duo sat there and stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Dolly sighed. “You said there was a guy…”

“Her Watcher.” Cortina’s face lit up, and the corpulent demon opposite her was struck by the sudden animation in her voice. “Rupert Giles. Incredibly intelligent, with these eyes that just pierce right through you. Every time he looks at me, I just feel my stomach turning into slush. Oh! And he’s British, too.”

“Figures,” Dolly said. “You and accents. You’ll never change, Cort.” She began playing with the ends of her hair. “If I do this---and I say if---this makes us totally even. For everything. No calling in favors later on. Capisce?”

“Totally.”

“And I just have to take this Slayer to Greece, right?” She waited for a response, but was met only by Cortina’s uncomfortable silence. “Right?” she prompted.

“Actually, she’s not the one I need you to teleport,” the white demon hedged. “Well, I’ll need for you to bring her back, of course, but for going out there…it’s more like her Watcher and some of her friends.”

Dolly shook her head. “You must have it pretty bad to be doing this for a human. You do know he’ll never last, don’t you? Ten minutes with you in bed and he’ll be on oxygen.”

Cortina’s smile was coy, her pale blue eyes dancing. “Oh, I think he might last longer than that,” she said. “He’s very…surprising.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She stood, and stretched to her full height, cracking her back as she did so. “I want to have a talk with this Rupert fella. Then I’ll decide if I’m going to help.”

“He’s asleep in the library. I can take you there---.”

Dolly waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t bother; I remember my way around. Besides, you should get some sleep. Were you even going to mention the fact that someone took a stab at you tonight?”

“I took some stuff for it. I’ll be all right.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s why you’re sitting there like someone’s shoved a redwood up your ass.” Before the white demon could argue, she was scooped up into her friend’s arms and laid gently down onto the bed. “Go to sleep. And that’s an order.”

Cortina snuggled down into the blankets. Rest did sound appealing, and the comforter was toasty from Dolly’s massive body heat. “Maybe just a little nap.” She watched as her guest began to shimmer in front of her, seemingly evaporating before her eyes, and she let her own lids slide shut. Almost immediately, the visiting demon’s voice came floating back to her.

“I haven’t said yes yet…”

Cortina’s smile was unconscious. “You will,” she murmured, before drifting off to sleep.

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

He watched her playing in the sandbox, the grains running down the sides of her legs as she poured the bucket over her knees, a huge smile on her face as she delighted in the novelty. A dog barked in the distance, answered quickly by a familiar shout, but Giles didn’t look away from his charge, couldn’t break away from enjoying her innocent glee. Although the book in his lap was open, he hadn’t read a word since arriving at the park. The gratification in watching Buffy was more than what he could get from some silly adventure novel.

The dog was closer now, still barking, and the ex-librarian felt a momentary pang of annoyance. Couldn’t people keep their pets on leashes anymore? he wondered. Or wasn’t it PC these days to constrain your animals? For a moment, he thought he heard someone call his name, but shook it off. You don’t know anyone out here but Buffy, he argued silently. But then…there it was again.

“Rupert Giles…?”

He was about to turn when he felt the large hand clap down on his shoulder, shaking him…

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

“Will you just wake up already?”

Giles bolted upright in his seat, his arms jerking out reflexively, sending his glasses skittering to the floor. The hand was still on his shoulder, the heavy grip loosening as he glanced around, bending over to retrieve his eyewear from under the desk. Blinking rapidly to clear his blurry vision, he straightened, and was immediately met with the sight of an extremely large woman standing in front of him, her foot tapping impatiently, fingers playing with the ends of her…green hair?

“Um…pardon?”

She visibly relaxed. “Yep, you’re the guy. You sleep like the dead, you know that?”

“I’m sorry,” Giles stuttered, trying to shake the fog from his head without looking too foolish. “Have we met?”

“Officially? No. Well, actually, not unofficially either. My name’s Dolly. I’m a friend of Cort’s.”

“Oh.” Without even thinking, the Watcher’s mouth stretched into a yawn, and he flushed a deep red as he tried to cover it up. “Excuse me,” he apologized through his fingers. “I haven’t slept that soundly in years.”

“I’m sure Cort would’ve let you have one of the rooms,” the demon said. “Or are you just as nutso about books as she is and couldn’t bear being parted from them?”

“She did offer, yes, but…” He cut himself off and stared at her, his blue eyes slightly narrowing. “Does Cortina know you’re here?” he questioned.

“Here, and with her blessing,” she replied. “And hopefully by now, she’s as out of it as you were when I got here.”

Giles nodded. “Good. She hasn’t rested nearly enough to heal properly. She puts a brave face on, but she’s really not very good at taking of herself, is she?”

“Cort’s got a tendency to get wrapped up in others’ needs ahead of her own,” Dolly said slowly.

“Yes, she’s most definitely a caretaker, with an order of romantic on the side, I do believe,” he assessed, oblivious to the demon’s narrowing gaze. He was waking up, feeling more refreshed than he had in ages. He couldn’t have been asleep for that long and for him to be so invigorated, it would’ve taken hours in his own bed, with no undue interruptions. Perhaps it was Cortina’s alcohol…

His gaze flitted down to the desk and he frowned, at once concerned. It was empty. He didn’t remember putting the flask away; perhaps he’d knocked it onto the floor when he awoke.

Dolly watched in amusement as the man got down on his hands and knees and began searching around the desk, bumping his head more than once and cursing under his breath, finishing by opening each and every one of the drawers. Her smile faded, though, when he rose, his face a thunderous mask of anger, blue eyes blazing. “Was there anyone else in here when you arrived?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. This was a different man than the one she’d materialized in on, and for a brief second, she saw what had attracted Cortina’s eye. Barely suppressed fury crystallized his movements as Giles grabbed the duffel bag from against the wall and slung it over his shoulder. As he brushed past her toward the door, Dolly heard him mutter, “Celie…”

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

Even with his previous flight through the corridors, Giles found himself frustrated as they began to blend into each other, doors closed against him, not one of them with a guard. He hadn’t bothered to ask Cortina where she was putting the witch up for the night, hadn’t really thought it necessary, and now he was kicking himself for the oversight. Celie had heard all of their conversations---stupid, Rupert, he chided himself, how could you be so stupid?---which meant that she knew about the white demon’s hold on her magic, and about the alcohol, and most likely what the drink would do to her. And now the flask was missing…

The other one, Dolly, was trailing after him, not helping but not getting in the way either. Giles didn’t care; his only concern was to get to the black witch before she…

He stopped abruptly as he rounded the corner and saw the demon’s inert form lying on the ground. The pool of blood under its head was already beginning to attract the insects, and it was all the Watcher could do not to stare at the clean slit across the creature’s neck. Wrenching his gaze away, he skirted the body, poking his head through the open door behind it. It was empty. Celie was gone.

Abruptly, Giles knelt down and gave the demon a quick search. Definitely dead, most likely had been sleeping when she’d snuck up on him from behind. But she’d been unarmed; how did she…? He found the empty scabbard under the man’s jacket, and he closed his eyes in dismay, his head hanging as his heart thumped in his chest. Now…she had a weapon.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do you want me to guess?”

Giles straightened at the demon’s voice, his jaw locked, the muscles twitching. “Cortina’s in danger,” he said, and reached into the duffel hanging over his shoulder. He almost didn’t see Dolly begin to fade out, but as soon as he noticed, his eyes widened. “You can teleport?” he asked. Without waiting for a response, he leapt over the dead body on the ground, crossing the distance between them with a speed that alarmed the green-haired demon. “Take me to her.”

It was a demand, not a request, and seeing the determination on the human’s face, Dolly merely shrugged. “Whatever,” she said.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but the sinking feeling in his stomach was nothing compared to the dread that clutched his heart. Please, he begged silently as he cocked the crossbow, don’t let me be too late.

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

Even before he had taken solid form, he could see the occupants of the room, could see Celie’s hunched form over a struggling Cortina, could even see the rag clapped over the white demon’s mouth and nose. He desperately wanted to use the weapon he held tight in his hands, but Giles knew without looking that he wasn’t there just yet, was only a diaphanous figure in the corner of the room. He heard her, though, and the bile that rose in his throat was real enough to burn.

“They are fools to trust you,” Celie hissed. “They do not see that you are evil, that all demons must be destroyed. But they will. Once you are dead, I will have my powers back and then---.” Her words were cut off in a strangled scream, as an arrow embedded itself in her upper arm. Clapping a hand over the blood that had already started to flow from the wound, the witch looked up to see the Watcher standing near the doorway, the crossbow ready in his arms.

“Step away from her.” His voice was low and deadly, and she could see the hatred burning in his eyes. Very slowly, she rose to her feet.

“You are too late,” she said with a vicious smile. “That allergy of hers is quite sensitive.” She gestured toward Cortina’s form with the rag that still dangled from her fingers. “Even the touch of alcohol on her skin proves quite effective. I am certain she is dying even as we speak.”

Giles took the risk and glanced down at the white demon. Sure enough, where the fabric had been pressed against her face, deep red burns and welts sizzled along her skin. His step toward her was unconscious, but he stopped himself, swiveling his head to face the witch again.

Celie’s smiled widened. “It is better this way, you will see. She was---.”

The second arrow found its mark with the precision of a surgeon’s hand, knifing into her chest, sending her stumbling backwards against the wall. She looked with wide eyes at Giles, unbelieving, before slumping to the floor.

“---a better person than you will ever be,” the older man finished, his voice cold as he stared down at her lifeless form.

Dolly brushed past him and went straight for the bed, lifting Cortina into her arms. Quickly, her eyes scanned her friend’s face, before glancing back at the rag that had fluttered to the floor. Stooping to pick it up with a free hand, she gave it a deep sniff and then turned to face the Watcher. “Damn thing’s soaked in liquor,” she explained. “That means she’s going to have internal burns as well. They can be treated, but I have to---.”

“Do whatever you must,” Giles insisted, unable to tear his eyes from Cortina’s now unconscious face. It wasn’t until the pair had disappeared that the first prick of a tear stung his own eyes. “Whatever you must,” he repeated to the empty air.

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

They sat around the desk, silent in the aftermath of the Watcher’s story, a note of sobriety hanging in the air. No one knew exactly how to respond, and each was lost in his or her own Scooby thoughts. It was Anya who finally shattered the quiet. “And you’re sure she’s dead?” she queried.

“Positive,” Giles replied, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “An arrow through the heart works just as effectively on humans as it does on vampires.”

“Now don’t get me wrong,” started Xander, “’cause god knows, I’m all ding dong, the witch is dead, here. But, with Celie out of the picture, and Cortina poofed away to Neverneverland, how exactly are we going to get to Buffy?”

It was the question they had all been considering, but none had been brave enough to voice. Turning expectant faces toward the older man, the four younger people waited for him to come through with his usual save-the-day solution.

“I don’t know,” Giles admitted. “I’ve been going over and over it since…” He couldn’t even say her name, the memory of the scarlet burns on the delicate white skin still etched on his brain. “Perhaps we could attempt the teleport ourselves. Now that her influence is gone from this area, Willow, Tara and I could try our hand at some magic…”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Giles looked up to see Dolly standing in the doorway, somewhere between her solid and gaseous forms. Half-standing, he leaned forward, the worry shining in his eyes. “Is she…?”

“Healing,” the demon replied. “She’d be dead now if you hadn’t stopped the witch.”

A relieved Watcher sank back into his chair. “Thank god,” he breathed.

There was a moment while Dolly just watched them, seemingly waiting for them to do something. Finally, she sighed in exasperation. “Well, chop chop,” she said. “Get your stuff. I don’t have all day, you know.”

“Our…stuff?” Giles queried. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Whatever you’re going to need to help your Slayer,” she clarified. “I’m taking you to Greece.”