Chapter Fourteen

            Buffy woke up and looked at the man sleeping beside her.  He was just incredibly beautiful: cheekbones and mouth and shoulders and chest and - well, basically all of him.  Even his feet were beautiful.

            She closed her eyes a second and tried to figure out exactly what was going on with him.  So the sex was amazing, she couldn’t keep her hands off him.  Best hangover cure she’d ever found.  And he could be really sweet if he thought no one was watching.  And he’d followed her all over the country... she was sure by now that he meant her no harm.  She trusted him.

            She was pretty sure she trusted him.

            So why did she still feel uneasy about him?

            Oh, yes, the fact that he’d once been madly in love with someone who possibly wanted to kill Buffy.  He’d told her about Dru last night, told her the whole story.  How this girl was totally insane, and even while she was with him she’d been messing around with Angel.  He’d have bloody killed her, but he didn’t fancy getting on the wrong side of Angel.  Who was also insane.

            Great, Buffy thought, two complete wackos are after me and the only guy on my side is more interested in sex than actually doing anything useful about the situation.

            She got up, carefully replacing the duvet over Spike’s luscious body, and pulled on his shirt.  Willow said her clothes had all been washed yesterday, they should be dry by now.  Buffy found them on an airer in the back passage and pulled them on, shivering.  She really needed to get her clothes sent back down from Scotland.  Maybe Dawn had some spare things she could borrow.

            She made some coffee - white for herself and strong and black for Spike, just how he liked it - and carried the two mugs carefully upstairs.  She paused outside Dawn’s room, but then remembered how much her sister liked to sleep and how cranky she got if she was woken up, and went back into her own room.

            Spike was still asleep, but he’d thrashed the covers off and was lying there naked, magnificent and on display.  Buffy raised her eyebrows.  What had he been dreaming about to wake up like that?

            She carefully set the coffee cups down and ran her finger up his erection.  Spike shifted and swallowed.  Buffy wrapped her hand around him.

            His eyes opened.

            “Hell of a wakeup call, pet.”

            Buffy smiled and climbed up the bed to kiss him.  “I made you coffee.”

            “So are you really the perfect woman, or what?”

            “Boy, do you know how to flatter a girl.”

            Spike ran his eyes over her.  He wasn’t flattering.  “What time is it?”

            Buffy leaned over for the watch she’d left by the bed.  “Ten after ten.”

            “Late.”

            “Not surprised after how late we got in.  Giles and Dawn are still asleep.  Hey, do you know what I’d really like to do today?”

            Spike looked hopeful, and Buffy laughed.  “You’ll wear me out.  I want to go sightseeing.”

            “I’ve got plenty of sights right here...”

            “I know you do.  Come on, Spike, I want to see London and you know the city... Show me around.”

            He sighed.  “Whatever you want.”

            They ate a quick breakfast and left a note for Giles, who came down and read it and assumed Dawn had gone with them, since there’d been no sound from her room when he’d knocked.  Odd, really, to see someone like Spike getting on so well with little Dawn.  Although she wasn’t so little any more.  Dawn was showing signs of growing up into as much of a difficult woman as Buffy.

            He tidied up downstairs and found a pair of shoes that were either Dawn’s or Buffy’s.  No; Buffy had only what she stood up in.  They must be Dawn’s.  He took them up to her room, knocked out of habit, and went in.

            The bed was unmade - typical teenager, he thought, and was about to leave when he noticed something rather odd.

            A note on the wall.  Impaled on a Swiss army knife - the modern equivalent of a dagger, Giles thought with curious detachment as he stepped closer and read it.

            Then he went pale.

            Rushing downstairs, he almost broke his neck trying to get to the phone to call Buffy’s mobile.

            “Where are you?” he demanded.

            “We’re on the London Eye.  Man, this thing is high!  But oh, my God, Giles, the view is so fant-”

            “Is Dawn with you?”

            “Dawn?  No, she was still asleep when we left.  I hate waking her, she’s always so cranky-”

            “She’s not here.  Her bed is unmade and there’s a note...”

            Panic sounded in Buffy’s voice.  “She ran away?”

            “No, I rather think she was kidnapped...  Buffy?  Buffy?”

            Willow and Tara were summoned for their peace-keeping abilities, but there was little to be done.  Buffy was catatonic, sitting on the sofa clutching the note Drusilla had left.  ‘I found a pretty jewel, but it was the wrong one.  If you bring me mine I won’t hurt yours... much...’

            Giles called the police, but Spike slammed the phone down and told him not to be such an arse.  The police wouldn’t be able to find Drusilla - they hadn’t succeeded so far.  And besides, Spike had no wish to run into the law.

            He paced up and down the little room, trying to figure out where they might have taken Dawn.  He couldn’t look at Buffy, who was sitting there with tears rolling down her face, not seeing or hearing anyone.  He’d let her down.  He was supposed to be protecting her - but what sort of protection was it if he’d let her get hurt like this?  He had to find Dawn, just to make Buffy feel better.

            “I’m going out,” he said to Tara, who was offering an oblivious Buffy a box of tissues.

            “W-where?  I think B-Buffy needs you...”

            Spike looked damaged.  He bobbed down in front of Buffy and took her by the shoulders.

            “Buffy, listen to me.  I know I said I’d protect you and right now that extends to your sister as well.  I’m gonna find the little bit, I promise I will.  I’ll bring her back safe and sound.”

            More tears flowed down Buffy’s face.  It broke Spike’s heart to look at her.  “Buffy,” he pulled her to him, but she didn’t seem to notice, “can you even hear me?”

            “I th-think she’s in shock,” Tara offered.

            “Tell her,” Spike said, standing up.  “Tell her where I’ve gone.  I won’t be back until I have her.”

            Tara nodded.  “Good luck.”

            Spike gave Buffy one last look and strode out, knocking past Giles in the hallway.

            “Where are you going?”

            “To see a man about a girl.”

            “You’re going after Dawn?” Willow asked from the kitchen.

            Spike nodded, and was gone.

            “Giles, what should we do with Buffy?” Willow said.

            “I... I don’t know.  She - I suppose she should rest... She’s going to need some help and support when she... I can’t believe no one noticed Dawn was gone!  None of us realised she wasn’t there!  How could we have been so stupid?”

            “You weren’t stupid,” Tara said, coming back out.  “You left Dawn here with Buffy and Spike.  It must have been while everyone was sleeping.  It’s not anybody’s fault.”

            “We should get Buffy to bed,” Willow said.  “Come on, Tara.  Giles, make some tea or something.”

            “You think that’s all I bloody do?  Drink tea?” Giles yelled.

            Willow blinked.  “No, I just thought it might calm you down.  Having something to do.  Plus you must be thirsty, all that yelling...?”

            Giles looked at her for a while, then he took his glasses off and polished them.  “Yes.  Of course.  I’m sorry.  A little on edge.”

            Willow smiled.  “No biggie.  We’re all feeling kinda eeeee right now.”  She edged past him and went into the living room to where Buffy still sat, still and silent, tears soaking her clothes.  “Come on, Buffy.  Back to bed.”

            Between them Willow and Tara managed to push and pull Buffy back up the stairs, take her shoes off and pull the covers over her.  Buffy lay there with her eyes open.

            “Do you think we should, maybe give her something?” Tara asked uncertainly.  “Or call a doctor?”

            “Maybe we should,” Willow agreed, and left the room.  But a cry from inside called her back.

            “Willow!”

            A knock sounded on the door downstairs and the girls exchanged looks.  “I’ll get it,” Tara said, and went don the steps as Willow pushed Buffy’s door back open.  Buffy was sitting up, looking at her.

            “I have to tell you something,” she whispered, looking distraught.

            “Okay,” Willow came over and sat on the edge of the bed.  “What is it?”

            “About Spike,” Buffy said, “and me.  We weren’t asleep.”

            “Oh,” Willow said, realising Buffy had heard everything they’d been saying.

            “We were outside.  We were - I mean, we were...”

            “Oh,” Willow said again, realising.  “Oh.  Well - look, Buffy, you still couldn’t’ve helped at all.  Even if you’d been asleep... I mean, she could have come in here and shot you so she could take Dawn.  At least you’re okay...”

            Buffy was shaking her head rapidly.  “But I’m not,” she said.  “I feel - I let - and there’s something else.  I think I-”

            And then she broke off, because Tara had come back, and behind her, filling the doorway, stood Riley in full black ops mode, looking very serious and pissed off.

            “Riley?” Willow said, because no one else was saying anything.  “What are you - I mean, hey, how are you?”

            He glanced at her, then focused his attention back on Buffy.

            “What happened?”

            Buffy said nothing, staring up at him, looking stricken.  Inwardly cursing Riley for turning up at such a moment, Willow said, “It’s Dawn.”

            “Your sister?” Riley said to Buffy, who nodded as fresh tears spilled down over her cheeks.  “What-?”

            “She’s, uh,” Willow looked at Tara, not certain what to tell him.  Riley seemed okay, but she wasn’t sure how Buffy would feel about him knowing everything.  Exes were tricky.

            “She’s gone,” Buffy said.  “The Angelus kidnapped her.  Last night.  Right from under our noses.”  She wiped her eyes and face and started to look more capable.

            “I didn’t even know she was here,” Riley said in despair.

            “She came yesterday.  I guess they must have followed her here or something.”

            “Did Spike know you were here?”

            Buffy nodded.  “I think he told them.”

            “But, Buffy-” Willow began, and Buffy waved at her to shut up.

            “I need to talk to Riley alone,” she said.  “Could you just give us a minute?”

            Willow looked torn, but she left the room with Tara following, and shut the door.

            “He brought me here and when Dawn turned up I think he told them.  He had me distracted last night when she was taken,” Buffy said, “and now he’s gone.  I need your help.  I think he might have taken her to that cottage, remember, where you found me that time?  In Yorkshire.  We need to go-”

            “Wait, hold on,” Riley held out an arm, “we?  You’re not going anywhere-”

            “She’s my sister-”

            “They want to kill you!  Buffy, this is really dangerous.  They know where you are-”

            “All the better reason for me to leave-”

            “I’ll take you to a safe house, then.”

            Buffy’s eyes glittered.  “Fine.”

            She shoved her feet back into her shoes and stomped down the stairs.  “Will, can I borrow your coat?”

            “Oh, Buffy, you’re feeling better,” Giles said.

            “You’re going out?” Willow said, clearly disgusted.

            “Riley’s taking me somewhere safe,” Buffy said, and mimed behind Riley’s back, “I have my cell.”

            “But-” Willow began.

            Giles cottoned on immediately.  “I see,” he said.  “Well, Riley, I hope you’ll be taking care of Buffy.  She’s been feeling a little under the weather recently.”

            “Don’t worry, Mr. Giles, she’ll be safe with me,” Riley said.  “And I’ll find Dawn, I promise.”

            He hustled Buffy out of the door and into the cool afternoon.  Buffy huddled into Willow’s funky red coat and said to Riley, “So, where’s this safe house?”

            “We’ll need a cab.  Come on, there’ll be one on the main road.”

            As they walked, Buffy hurrying to keep up with Riley’s long strides, he told her, “I went looking for you in Scotland.  Giles told me you were with Spike.  Were you - I mean, did he-?”

            “No,” Buffy said.  “No.  He was injured.  He kept trying,” she added, “but he wasn’t strong enough to hurt me.”

            “But why did you come back down here?  The postman I spoke to in Scotland said Spike had threatened him with a gun but you weren’t there...”

            “Oh,” Buffy said, “yeah, well, I escaped.  And Spike followed me.  And caught me.  And brought me here.  Um.  I don’t know why.  So Drusilla could come get me, I suppose.  Or Dawn.  Um...”

            “You know about Drusilla?”

            “I, er, got some stuff out of Spike,” Buffy said.  “Oh, look, is that a cab?  I’ve never been in a black cab.”

            Riley flagged down a minicab, much to Buffy’s disappointment, and they got in.  “Liverpool Street Station,” he told the driver, who took off as Buffy perched nervously on the big back seat and looked over at Riley.

            “So, er, how far is this safe house?”

            “I can’t say,” Riley said.

            “Right.  People might be listening.  Do you, er, if someone is listening, can you, um, deal with them?”

            Riley frowned at her.  “You mean am I armed?  Don’t be silly, Buffy, that’s illegal,” he said, and smiled at the driver.  Then he flicked open his jacket and showed her the gun hiding there.

            “Oh,” Buffy said.  “Oh.  Good.”  She moved a little closer.  “You know, that’s actually really sexy.  The whole, you know, secret commando guy get-up.”  Closer still.  “If we weren’t in the back of a cab I’d - no, I can’t say it.”

            “You’d what?” Riley looked interested.  The car pulled up at a red light.

            Buffy leaned closer as if to whisper in his ear.  The taxi driver looked back at them and saw Buffy press something against Riley’s leg.  He jerked and then went really still.

            Buffy turned to the driver, who pretended to be watching the lights.       

            “Hi, excuse me,” she said, and he turned around to look at her.  “Which one of those levers is the handbrake?”

            He stared at her.  “You what?”

            “The handbrake.  That stops the car from moving when you take your foot off the brake.  I don’t really drive,” she smiled prettily.

            “Right,” the cabbie said doubtfully.  “It’s this one.”

            “Ah,” Buffy said.  “I see.”  Then she pressed the prongs of Willow’s rather illegal stun-gun against the driver’s shoulder, reached over and yanked up the handbrake, then borrowed Riley’s weaponry and got out of the car and left it there in traffic, as the lights turned to green and people started beeping furiously at the static cab.  It stayed where it was, both driver and passenger unconscious.

            Spike stood outside the old theatre and looked up at the boarded over windows, high above the pavement.  He couldn’t believe it hadn’t been torn down yet - but then, if the Angelus still owned it, who was going to go out on a limb to clean it up?

            He remembered the first time Dru had brought him here, high on something, giggling and lolling against him as he kissed her.  God, Dru.  He’d loved her so much.

            Now he wanted to kill her.

            He strode around the back of the theatre to the stage door and settled down to wait for nightfall.

            “Did he say where he was going?” Buffy demanded as she wove through the busy crowds, trying to hear Giles through the interference on her mobile.

            “No, just that he was going to look for Dawn.”

            “And he didn’t say where?  Damn,” Buffy yelled, quite loudly.  No one paid her any attention.  Someone yelling into a phone was not unusual in any part of London.  “Giles, I need to know.  I really have to find him.”

            “Buffy, this could be very dangerous.  In fact, I’m quite sure it will be very dangerous-”

            “I don’t care, Giles,” Buffy said, pushing past a crowd of American tourists in Tower of London t-shirts.  “She’s my sister.  I have to find her.”

            “Look, come back here and we’ll try to work it out.”

            “I can’t.  I can’t sit still and -  I have to be out here.  I have to, Giles.”

            “All right.  Look, I’ll call you if we think of anything.”

            “Originally,” Angel said, “it was used in a production of King Lear, some time around the turn of the century.  Which is coincidentally when this theatre was last used - see, it’s so old there’s not even any electricity.  At night it’s pitch black...  Audiences were so disgusted by the violence of the play that they abandoned the theatre and it became derelict.  It passed into my hands on the death of my father.”

            “How did he die?” Dawn asked in a tiny, terrified voice.

            “Massive blood loss.  Due mostly to the bullet I put in his heart.”

            Dawn shrank back against the hard wood of the high-backed chair.  Her hands and feet had been chained to the arms and legs of the chair, pinned down by tight cuffs, and there was a metal brace around her neck.  At the back of the chair was a screw that tightened the brace.  Dawn had to breath in little gasps or her windpipe got pressed shut.

            “Do you like the theatre, Dawnie?  Can I call you Dawnie?”

            Dawn gave the tiniest of nods.

            “Excellent.  I love the theatre.  You know there’s been a theatre on this site since Shakespeare’s day?  ‘Tis Pity She’s A Whore premiered here.  Have you ever seen it?”

            Dawn shook her head.

            “It’s a great play.  The main character impregnates his sister then cuts her heart out when she marries another man.”

            Dawn started to feel sick.  She’d woken up in this torture chair a few hours ago and Angel had spent the whole time wandering around her in circles, all over the stage, tossing what looked like a real human skull from hand to hand, talking to her about revolting plays he’d seen.  Titus Andronicus, where a girl was raped and mutilated, the Duchess of Malfi, Hamlet (hence the skull), and now some horrible incestuous Jacobean tragedy where people cut each other’s hearts out.

            “You see,” Angel leaned over Dawn, his face close to hers, “it’s always about blood.  Not love, not politics, no matter what modern playwrights try to tell us.  It’s blood.  Blood that flows, blood that leaks.”  He produced a small knife and Dawn shrank away from him, but not before he’d run the blade along her arm and a thin line of red blood appeared.  “Blood that binds.  Like it binds you to your sister.  Now, Dawnie, she has something I want.  Something I need.”

            “That ring?”

            “Yes.  I knew you were a smart girl, Dawnie.”

            “Why do you want it?”

            “Why?  Do you know what is in that ring?”

            Dawn shrugged fearfully.  “Um, diamonds?”

            “No.  Not diamonds.  Well, yes,” he smiled charmingly, “diamonds, but not just that.  Something I really, really need.”

            “What’s that?”

            He smiled.  “I’ll show you when I get it.  How long do you think it will take your sister and her boyfriend to find us?”

            “She doesn’t know London.”

            “Oh, but he does,” Angel’s eyes were dark and frightening, “he does.”

            Riley woke up in the back of the cab, a policeman looking down at him.  “Sir?  Do you remember what happened?”

            He blinked, feeling sick and dizzy.  “Where is she?”

            “Where is who, sir?”

            “Buffy.  The - the girl...” Riley felt as if he was drunk.  His words were slurring and everything was blurred.

            “There’s no girl, sir.  It looks like you were attacked.”

            “They took her?”

            “There’s that possibility, sir.  Sir?  You really must stay still, there’s an ambulance on the way...”

            “No,” Riley shoved the other man out of the way and fought his way out of the car.  “Gotta find Buffy.”

            Giles was slightly surprised to find Riley on his doorstep again, looking rather the worse for wear.

            “Is she here?”

            “You mean Buffy?  No, I - I haven’t heard from her.”

            “They took her.  Ambushed the cab and took her.  Shit, Giles, I don’t know where she is.  They could have taken her anywhere - they have bases all over...”

            “Wait,” Giles grabbed his arm, “you know where their bases are?”

            “I-” Riley looked torn.  “I’ve been trying to deal with them.  Get them the ring so they’d leave Buffy alone.  That’s why I kept her in Prague.”

            Giles was furious.  “You knew?  All this time, you knew where they were and you wanted to take her to them?”

            “No, not her - just the ring.  She should never have had it... I didn’t think they’d ever come looking for it...”

            “Why is it so special?” Willow asked, emerging from the kitchen and eyeing him coldly.

            Riley sighed, looking defeated, and went into the living room where he threw himself at the sofa and put his face in his hands.

            “There are five little stones, right?”

            “Right,” Willow said.  “All diamonds, I think.  Aren’t they diamonds?  Wait, can they be used to power like an invisibility ray or something?”

            Giles gave her a weary look.

            “No,” Riley said humourlessly.  “Nothing like that.  But there is something very powerful in there.  A computer chip.”

            “In the ring?”

            “The base of the centre diamond.  It was put in there to be kept safe.  It’s part of a weapon, something very powerful.  This thing’d make the A-bomb look like an air rifle.”

            “And Buffy has that on her finger?”

            Riley nodded miserably.  “It was put there by a base in South America... Entrusted to a commander who was shot down by the Angelus.  The ring was retrieved and came to me.  I gave it to Buffy for safekeeping - she’d never lose something like that and never be suspected.  Or so I thought...”

            There was silence for a while as Willow and Giles stared at him.  Then Giles said, “You bloody idiot.”

            Riley looked shocked.

            “You didn’t think they’d find out?  You put an innocent girl in danger - and not just her, her family and friends - have you seen what happened to Xander and Anya?  God only knows what’s happening to Dawn right now.  And all because of some stupid little chip that should have been destroyed instead of protected.  You’re all bloody stupid.”

            With that, he stomped out of the room, and Willow was left feeling awkward.

            “So,” she said, “these bases the Angelus have...?”

            Buffy felt as if her feet were going to fall off.  She’d been walking for hours, just looking for Dawn with no real sense of direction.  London was so damn big.  Something like a hundred square miles, and that wasn’t including outer London.  Tens of millions of people.  Street after crooked street.  Thousands of black cabs, hundreds of small alleys.. It was impossible.

            She leaned against a shop window and tried not to cry.

            Right then her phone chirruped, and Buffy yanked it out eagerly.  “Willow?”

            “I have some addresses for you.  Where are you?”

            “Uh...” Buffy looked up at a street sign.  “Uh, WC1.”

            “Great!  There’s an abandoned theatre near you that’s apparently a sort of Angelus gang hangout-”

            “Wait, how do you know all this?”

            Willow giggled.  “Riley.  He - well, okay, it’s not funny, but he has contacts in the Angelus and-”

            “What?”

            “He’s the reason you have the ring.  I mean - he knows why they want it and he was going to give it to them but - anyway.  We got him to tell us where we could find them.  And then Tara knocked him out.”

            “She did what?” Buffy said, trying to picture shy little Tara clonking big, burly Riley.

            “With a frying pan.  And then tied him up.  It was kinda mad,” Willow laughed.  “Anyway.  What street are you on?”

            “Uh, St Giles High Street, weirdly enough.”

            “Okay.  You’re really close.  You need to go to the end of the street and turn onto Tottenham Court Road...”

            Spike looked up at the sky.  It’d be dark enough now.  He knew what a pit that theatre was.  With any luck he’d be able to get in there and get a shot at at least one of them before they realised he was there.  Too risky in the daylight.

            He checked the bullets in his gun and got out his lock-picking kit.

            Buffy found the theatre and went around the back, like Willow had told her to.  It overhung the river and the dark water sloshed unappetisingly below her.  Buffy was frightened - it was pitch dark around here and, despite the overwhelming crowds of the West End in the evening, around here it was deserted.

            She looked at the gun she’d stolen from Riley, glanced around, and took an experimental shot at the river.

            Right.  That seemed to work.  Buffy fastened up Willow’s red coat and squared her shoulders and approached the stage door.

                “Showtime,” she said, and opened the door.

Chapter Fifteen

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Epilogue

            Buffy stretched right up and put her arms around Riley.  “You take care,” she said.

            “I will.  And you too.  I mean that.  You gotta look after yourself.”

            She smiled.  “Believe me, Mom and Dawn are making sure I do.  Say hi to Sam for me.”

            “I will.”  Riley bent down and kissed her cheek.  “Bye, Buffy.”

            “Bye.”  She closed the door and leaned against it, her eyes closed for a second.  Riley, married.  It was insane.

            “It’s nice you two are talking again,” Dawn said, coming down the stairs.

            “Well, you know.  He’s a good guy, he’s just not my good guy,” Buffy said, heaving herself upright and going through into the kitchen.  “We had a long talk about London.  He said he was a sorry about a million times - you know, I actually got sick of the sound of it.”

            Dawn smiled.  “I might have to get that in writing.  You know - Spike said he was sorry...”

            Buffy’s smile faded.  “Yeah.  Well, not to my face he didn’t.”

            “Look, if you call him or, you know, get Giles to call him or something... I know he’d love to see you, and you really should-”

            “No,” Buffy said sternly.  “No.  I still haven’t forgiven him for... For the things he... Look, I just want to forget about him, okay?”

            “Like that’s ever going to happen,” Dawn muttered.

            “What was that?”

            “Um, I said I’d better go.  I’m meeting RJ at the Bronze.  You don’t wanna come with...?”

            Buffy made a face.  “I really don’t think that’s appropriate, do you?”

            Dawn laughed.  “Well, maybe not.  Okay.  I’ll see you tomorrow.  Tell Mom I took my sneakers to drive in, okay?”

            Buffy grinned.  “Sure I will.  Have fun.”

            Dawn skipped out of the door and Buffy watched her go, adding to herself, “’Cos I know I won’t.”

            Spike sat in his sister’s kitchen and drummed his fingers on the table.  It was scrubbed oak, very farmhouse, and there was a gingham runner down the centre.  The walls were a rustic yellow and the cupboards all had artful cracks in them.  Harmony had wanted a rustic, farmhouse look, but she had absolutely zilch taste.  The place made him feel ill.

            “Come on, Spikey,” she said, coming back into the kitchen and untying her frilly apron.  “Don’t just sit there moping.  Go and find her.  Ravello Drive isn’t that far away.”

            “I am not moping,” Spike said.

            “Look, Spike,” his other sister came in and dumped some dishes in the sink, “much as it pains me to say, Harm’s right.  You’ve been a misery-guts for bloody weeks now.  Go and find her.  You can even take my car.”

            He looked up for a brief second.  “You don’t have a bloody car.  They impounded it when you lost your licence.”

            “Yes, well, if I had one you could borrow it,” Darla said, unruffled.  “I’m sure Harm’ll lend you the Beemer, right, Harm?”

            Harmony didn’t look happy about the idea, but she nodded.  “If it’ll stop him looking so miserable,” she said.  She chanced a glance at her sister, who nodded.  “I went into her Mum’s gallery yesterday,” she said casually.

            “Harm, you hate modern art.  If it doesn’t have a unicorn in it, you hate it.  Remember?”

            “Well, I still went in.  And I got chatting to Joyce and she said Buffy’s ever so down these days.  Really misses someone but she’s too proud to call him... But she really should have called him...”

            “And I happen to know that her sister will be out tonight,” Darla chipped in.  “I met this guy who has a brother in high school and he said his brother is going out with this girl called Dawn Summers.  They’re meeting up tonight.”

            “And there’s a late showing at the gallery,” Harmony added.  “Buffy will be all alone...”

            “She’s probably got a date,” Spike said, fingers drumming faster.  “Girl like her won’t be single for long.”

            “Only if she wants to date,” Harmony pleaded.  “Go on, Spikey-”

            “Stop bloody calling me that!”

            “All right, then, William,” Darla snapped.  “Just go and see her before I start testing out my new pepper spray on you.”

            “You can take my car,” Harmony wheedled.

            “Why are you two so desperate for me to see her?  Is that the only reason you invited me out here?”

            “No,” Darla said airily, “I wanted you to beat up this guy who won’t stop pestering me.  But since you’re here...”

            “Fine,” Spike shoved his chair back and stood up.  “I’ll bloody go.”

            He snatched up Harmony’s keys and stalked out.  Behind his back, the two sisters high-fived each other.

            Spike got in the car and reversed far too fast out of the drive.  He drove one block east and another south and then he stopped.  This was stupid.  He couldn’t just turn up unannounced.  He didn’t need to see her.  He needed to move on.

            It was just because she smelled so good.  He’d smelled her perfume on a woman on the Tube the other day and nearly got arrested for following her.  Why did he miss Buffy so much?  Why was she so special?  Why couldn’t he get her out of his head?

            Why was he suddenly outside her house?  He didn’t even remember driving here.  But he’d been by so often, every day since he came to Sunnydale.  It wasn’t that he was stalking her, it was just...

            Okay, he was stalking her.

            He peered through the dining room window and saw her sitting behind the table, book in hand, papers spread out all over the tablecloth.  That was right - she was doing some sort of course.  Harmony had heard it from Joyce.  Some art history thing.

            She was wearing glasses - a new addition, and very adorable - and her hair was falling out of its clasp.  She was so incredibly beautiful.

            Spike was out of the car and halfway up the path before he realised what he was doing.  He paused, swore to himself, and stomped up to the door.  If she didn’t answer after ten seconds he was leaving.

            ...four, three, two...

            He turned away.

            And then the door opened.

            “Can I-” Buffy began, and then stopped.  There was a long pause, so pregnant its waters were nearly breaking.

            “Spike?”

            “You got me,” Spike said, unable to turn and look at her.  “Thought you were out,” he added.

            “I was studying.  Home study - like correspondence, you know...”

            “Right.”  His eyes were fixed on the wing mirror of Harmony’s car.  There was a longer pause.

            “Are you gonna turn round?” Buffy asked eventually.

            Spike took a deep breath and spun on his heel to face her.

            His head went light.

            He fainted.

            He came to on an unfamiliar couch, bright lights in his eyes. Something damp on his forehead.

            “God, Spike, are you all right?  What happened?”

            “Something you must never tell anyone about,” Spike said.  “Ever.”  He blinked and turned his head.  Buffy was kneeling by the sofa, a damp cloth in her hand and a worried expression on her face.

            “What happened to your face?” she asked

            “What happened to your stomach?”

            Buffy’s arm went around her waist - or where her waist used to be, before Spike’s baby filled it out.

            “Oh,” she said.  “Yeah.  I was sort of going to tell you about that...”

            Spike stared at her.

            “Well, okay, so I wasn’t.”

            “You’re pregnant?”

            She nodded.

            “Is it - is it-”

            “It’s yours,” Buffy said.

            “Jesus.”  Spike let his head fall back on the sofa arm.  “Bloody hell.”

            “You’re not going to faint again, are you?”

            “I didn’t faint.  I - I blacked out.  In shock.  Bloody hell.  She didn’t tell me that.”

            “Who didn’t tell me what?”

            “Harmony.”

            “Harm - wait a minute.  Does she like unicorns?”

            Spike nodded painfully.

            “Mom said some rich English girl had been asking about me.  God.  That’s your sister Harmony?”

            “Yep.”

            “But - Mom said she was titled.  Like, Lady Harmony.”

            “Yep.”

            “But...”

            Spike gave her a weary smile.  “If your full name was Lord William Henry Dashwood, Viscount of Spellingdon, would you tell everyone?”

            Buffy’s mouth dropped open.  She swayed on her knees.

            “You’re a lord?”

            “Yeah.  Well - no, but my dad is.  It’s a courtesy title... When he dies I’ll be the Earl of Stanchester.”

            Buffy clutched at his hand.  “The-”

            He peered at her.  “You all right, love?”

            “Yeah, I’m - I just-”

            Spike grabbed her shoulders as she swayed, and awkwardly swung her onto the sofa in his place.

            “Shouldn’t have shocked you,” he said.  “Not in your, er, your...”

            “My condition?”  Buffy smiled.  “Believe me, I’ve had enough shocks since I found out.  Actually, finding out was the biggest shock...”

            “Why didn’t you tell me?”

            Buffy sighed.  “Well, I... Okay, to begin with I thought you were evil.”

            “A common mistake.  As I recall, love, I saved your life.”

            “As I recall, love,” Buffy shot back, “you said you’d been using me and I made you feel sick.  And then the person I thought was your ally shot me.”

            Spike’s fingers tightened around her wrist.  “He was never my ally,” he said.  “Ever.  After what he did to you, and your sister and your friends... If I hadn’t already killed the fucker, I’d do it again.”

            Buffy stroked his hair.  “Giles explained it all to me,” she said.  “He said he’d talked to you.  He didn’t tell me...” She trailed off, and her hand slid gently down the side of his face.  There was a burn mark there, a livid pink puckered scar, and Spike winced slightly at her touch.

            “Does it hurt?”

            “Only when I laugh.”

            Buffy smiled.  “He said your gunshot would was healing okay...”

            “What about yours?”

            “Bulletproof vest.  You didn’t think I’d go in there without protection, did you?”

            “Speaking of which...”

            Buffy blushed.  “I was on the Pill,” she said.  “I really was.  I didn’t lie to you about that.  I don’t know... I guess it must have been a timezone thing or maybe because I took it late or something.  I never thought...”

            Spike reached out and placed a hand on her swollen stomach.  “Neither did I.  Wish you’d told me, Buffy.”

            “What was I supposed to do?  Call you up and say, hey, you know you said sleeping with me made you sick?  Well guess what?  It got me pregnant.  Congratulations.”

            “It never made me sick,” Spike said.

            “Did me.”

            He stared at her.

            “The morning after the vodka?  Wasn’t hangover.  Morning sickness.  I have been throwing up for bloody months.”

            Spike gave her a smile.  “I’ve been thinking about you for months.”

            “I missed you,” Buffy said quietly, and Spike’s heart turned over.  He lifted her chin and kissed her, and Buffy kissed him back with months and months of longing and desire, totally unable to separate her mouth from his.  He tasted so good and she’d missed him so much.

            Eventually he released her, gasping, “Reckon that baby’s gonna need some oxygen, love.”

            Buffy put her arms around him and held him close.  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she whispered.  “Figured I’d be a single mother forever.  Live with my Mom and be a bitter old spinster with a delinquent kid.”

            “Hey, the next Viscount Spellingdon is not allowed to be a delinquent.”

            “What if it’s a girl?”

            “Oh, then she can be a tearaway.  Worked out okay for my sisters.”

            Buffy smiled.  “I met Harmony once.  I didn’t think she was that bad.”

            “Obviously didn’t spend too much time with her.  Oh, no, wait, Buffy, the kid can only inherit the title if I acknowledge it.”

            A cold shiver ran through Buffy.  “If you what?”

            “If I marry his mother.”  Spike’s eyes glittered and he gave her a cocky grin.  “Fancy marrying me?”

            Buffy stared.

            “Buffy?”

            “Ask me again,” she whispered.

            Spike grinned, got off the sofa and propped himself on one knee.  He took her hand in his, and his smile faded.  His face was earnest, desperate, scarred and beautiful.  Buffy reached out and touched his hair.

            “Buffy Summers.  I bloody love you.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I really bloody do.”

            “I love you too,” Buffy said, and was horrified to find she was crying.  “I only realised it after you were gone, but I really do.”

            “Will you marry me?”

            She paused.  “You’re not just asking me because I’m pregnant?”

            “No!  Although that is a rather large factor.  I’m asking you because I love you and I want to be with you.  Can’t you tell?  I bloody adore you, Summers.  I’m drowning in you.  And I’m also getting cramp, so can you answer before I fall over?”

            Buffy sniffed and attempted a grin, and wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.

            “Ask me again,” she croaked.

            “Will you marry me?”

            Buffy looked at him for a long moment, this man who had ricocheted so insanely into her life, turned her upside down and all around, messed up her head and her body, who gave her the best sex she’d ever had, who’d risked his life to save her sister, who looked at her with so much love.

            “Yes,” she said.  “I will.”

            Spike broke into a massive grin and swept her into his arms.  He was still kissing her when the front door opened and Dawn walked in.  Her hand flew to her mouth.

            “Hey, Buffy, I saw Xander and Anya, they said - Oh my God!”

            Buffy tore herself away from Spike and stared guiltily up at her little sister.

            “Hey, Dawnie,” she wiped her mouth as subtly as she could, “how was the Bronze?”

            “Uh, okay.  Hey, Spike,” she gave a fingerwave.  “I guess you two made up,” she added with a big grin.

            “Yep,” Spike said, standing up and hauling Buffy to her feet.  He looked her over speculatively, then swooped and picked her up in his arms.

            “Hey!  Spike!  Put me down.  Come on, put me down, I weigh a ton.”

            “No, you don’t.  Which way’s your room?”

            “It’s upstairs, but you can’t carry me-”

            “Tough.  I’m gonna.  Niblet,” he nodded at Dawn as she stepped out of the way, grinning so wide Buffy thought to top of her head might fall off.

            “Have fun,” she called up the stairs as Spike carried Buffy up.

            “Oh, I intend to,” he grinned.

            He made love to her, carefully and gently, awestruck by her new body, delighting in everything, and afterwards held her close and kissed her sweetly.

            “So then, Lady Buffy,” he said.  “What have you been up to?  Did I miss much?”

            Buffy considered it.  “I could write it down for you,” she offered, “on maybe a postage stamp.  In really big letters.”

            Spike grinned and kissed her hair.

            “Hey,” he said, “if it’s a girl maybe we could call it after Willow or Tara.”

                “I’d like that,” Buffy smiled, and then her eyes started to shine.  “And if it’s a boy, we could call it Riley.”  She watched his face change.  “Come on, I was joking.  Spike, I was joking.  Hey, Spike... Spike?  Oh, Spike!”

Well, it’s been a rollercoaster ride for me too… but the Spuffy goodness had to come to an end some time.  Sniff.  I miss them now.  Oh well, guess I’ll have to write another one!

Hope you enjoyed it and thanks very, very much for all the fantastic feedback.  It’s been really encouraging. J

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