Promise of Frost

Regardless of his protestations, Buffy watched Spike lose himself in the games with Holly, eventually turning his hands into killer vampire puppets and chasing her around the cabin with his fangs bared and socks at the ready.

"Never!" Spike growled. He reached forward and grabbed at a skinny ankle before it disappeared from his view, but the fact that his chip never went off told Buffy all she needed to know about their playing.

"No! Don't!" There was a streak of yellow, and then the bedroom door slammed shut, with Spike coming to a jerky halt before he smashed his nose into it.

"I don't think she knows that one," Buffy offered from where she was curled up in the corner of the couch.

"Sure, she does," he replied. "I've been tellin' her that bloody three little pigs story every day since she got here."

"You've been telling a three-year-old a story about a house coming down around her ears? And you wonder why she's been sleepwalking."

He shot her a dirty look and then leaned even closer to the door. "Little pidge, little pidge, let me in," Spike tried again.

"Was the Big Bad Wolf a vampire?" Buffy asked with a bright smile. "Is that why he had to ask for an invitation?"

Then, from the interior of the bedroom, she heard, "Not by the chair on my finny fin fin."

"Close enough." Back to the door, and in his best growly voice, "Then, I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."

She just grinned. But as the silence grew from the other side of the door, she leaned forward to try and see past where Spike blocked the entrance to the bedroom. "Did she hear you?" she asked.

"Don't know." As he reached for the knob, though, it twisted beneath his grasp and a flash of yellow came darting out between his legs, knocking him over as Holly dashed for the other side of the table.

"Spike lost to a three-year-old," Buffy singsonged, turning back to the book she wasn't reading in her lap.

He stopped in mid-stride. "When was the last time you patrolled, Slayer?" he asked, pointedly.

Their eyes met, and she smiled. "Fine, I can take a hint." She rose, stretching until her back audibly cracked. "It's not like I've been getting any kind of workout from anything inside for the past week."

She was still smiling when she shut the cabin door behind her. As she did up her jacket against the cooler air, all Buffy could imagine was how she was going to get Spike when she returned from her patrol.

Grumpily, Giles swatted at the offending limb, and rolled over to blink into the too-bright light that was mounted next to the bed. "You better have a bloody good reason for this," he growled at Paul's blurry outline. He fumbled for his glasses. "I'd thought we were going to sleep until Joyce woke us."

It was enough to shake Giles from his stupor. His dreams had been unsettling, an odd amalgam of nightmares regarding Angelus and Jenny, with Maria hovering in the background, but the apprehension that had twisted throughout his body throughout dissolved at the more critical situation currently at hand.

Pushing back the blanket, he noted the mid-afternoon time as he rose, grabbing the shirt he'd folded over the back of a nearby chair. "Did you try her room?" Giles asked. "Perhaps she's just sleeping heavily."

"Her car is gone. And she left a note for you with the hotel clerk. He said she's already checked out."

Giles snatched the envelope Paul proffered, tearing open the seal and pulling out the piece of paper inside. A credit card slipped from within the folds, but he tucked it into his pocket as he quickly scanned its contents.

"What is it?" Paul couldn't keep his hands from twisting as he watched Giles toss the letter aside and storm over to his shoes. "Is something wrong?"

"Bloody woman," Giles muttered. Louder, he ordered, "Pack your things. We're leaving."

"We're renting a car, no, she's not coming back, and she's decided we're both fools who are standing in her way of helping Buffy." Giles swore under his breath as he caught his toe on the shoe, sliding his foot before trying to put it on again. "She's gone off to find Buffy again. Apparently, she's decided that we are excess baggage she needed to shed before doing so."

He was pulled up short by Paul's query, his brow wrinkling. "It's because she's a very stubborn woman who doesn't understand that there are certain things beyond her means," he said tightly. "It was foolhardy of her to leave without us."

"But, weren't you the one who was telling me that your Slayer gets many of her stronger qualities from her mother?"

Giles pursed his lips. He hated it when his own words were thrown back in his face. "Apparently, common sense wasn't one of them."

Paul remained still as Giles continued to organize their few belongings. "Not that I wish to argue with you about this---."

A knock at the door stilled both of them, their heads turning to stare at it as if an arrival was the last thing they expected. Giles was the first to move, a toothbrush in his hand as he closed the distance to answer it.

The sight of Maria and Silas on the other side immediately had him trying to slam it, but a sharp bolt of magic from her outstretched hand sent him flying back into the room to crumple at the foot of the bed.

"Really," she commented as she crossed the threshold, "I wonder how it is you can have such atrocious manners, Mr. Giles. I'd heard your education was impeccable." She smiled at Paul, a cold rictus of an expression. "Stop gaping. It's rude."

Giles shook his head as he struggled to sit up, his chest sore from where the magic had slammed into him, his balance shaky from the impact. "We're onto you," he said to Maria. Even through his discomfort, there was a menace to his voice. "You won't play us as your patsies any longer."

Silas' foot shoved him back as he tried to rise, and though Giles knew he was stronger and in better shape than the other Watcher, the impact of his fall had weakened him to the point of bowing to the larger man.

"But we're partners," Maria was saying. Gently, she closed the door behind her. "Or we were, until you so boldly decided that you'd changed your mind regarding our mission."

"And you chose to stay. That is, until Mrs. Summers arrived. However did she persuade you to leave in such an abrupt manner? Don't tell me there's more to your relationship than the professional one you hold with her daughter."

Giles' eyes burned as he fought to control his rage. "She told us the truth. Funny, but I find myself much more willing to cooperate with someone who is honest with me than one who is not." He was going to ignore Joyce's lie of omission regarding Jenny. There was no way he was going to divulge any information regarding the ghosts to Maria.

"Does that truth entail informing you where her daughter is?" She wasn't giving up. Perching herself on the edge of a chair, she seemed oblivious to Paul's presence completely, though when Giles stole a quick glance at the young man, he could see that it didn't matter. Paul was completely spellbound in his fear of the woman.

When Giles didn't respond right away, Maria sighed. "I know she's left," she said. "I watched her go. What I need for you to tell me is where she's going."

"You're off your box if you think I'm going to cooperate with you again in any way."

She shook her head, her eyes gleaming in displeasure. "There is more than one way to skin a cat, Mr. Giles. And I know them all, especially those that leave the cat...screaming."

Enough was enough, Doyle decided. He'd lounged around in the local watering hole for as long as he could stand, waiting for Joyce or one of her Watcher boy scouts to come and get him for their post-nap confab. Normally, he would've been overjoyed at the prospect of such an extended length of time in favorite type of establishment, but his temporary corporeal status was proving more of a headache than it was worth. He kept having to order drinks only to watch them go untouched, all because the bloody Powers hadn't seen fit to toss eating and drinking into the mix when they'd come up with their grand scheme. A man could only take so much torture.

He was halfway to the hotel when he felt it. A mixture of excruciating pressure on his skull and a sizzling beneath his skin, the magic left a trail that made it impossible for him not to notice. Doyle stopped, head darting around while he tried to discern from which direction it was coming. He almost groaned out loud when he realized it was the hotel.

Breaking into a run, he'd just reached the bottom of the stairs that led to Joyce's room when Tara appeared before him a few steps up. She wouldn't have been able to stop him, but he skidded to a halt anyway. He didn't have a problem with being walked through when he was more ghostly, but he knew it bothered her.

"Are they dead?" he asked, already expecting the worst. When she shook her head, he sagged in relief. "Hopefully Joyce is giving her what-for. That woman---."

"Where?" He stopped, already knowing the answer. "Do me a favor and just give me a pretty lie to hold onto for a few seconds. Something to take the sting away from knowing I pushed her back into looking for the Slayer."

"How about I distract you instead?" Tara glanced back up over her shoulder, and there was no mistaking the worry that clouded her eyes. "Maria has Mr. Giles and the other Watcher cornered. We have to get them away from her before she figures out where Buffy went."

"Then we create a diversion and do it the old-fashioned way. We don't have much time."

Grimly, Doyle stepped back and surveyed his surroundings. The hotel was an older model, with minimal vacancy at the moment. He had to be careful about potentially hurting anybody else in the building.

"Give me five minutes," he instructed Tara as he turned on his heel. "I'll get them out of there."

Every time Maria asked Giles a question that he refused to answer, Silas kicked him in the stomach, and now he was quite regretting not killing the bastard when he'd had the opportunity that day in Maria's library. He was already steeling himself against the sixth blow when a muffled explosion emanated from outside the room, followed immediately by some sort of ringing alarm.

Frowning, Maria rose from her seat and strode to the door, opening it up to step out into the sunshine. Beyond her petite form, Giles could see smoke wafting into the sky, and took advantage of Silas' distraction to push himself upright in spite of the pain in his midsection.

She didn't answer. Instead, she moved out onto the path, and her sharp intake of breath was audible.

"Do I smell smoke?" Paul said, rabbiting forward with his first movement since Maria's arrival.

Sure enough, Giles could now, too. Sharp, and acrid, and all of a sudden, there was smoke visible floating in wispy drafts around the entranceway. "The building's on fire," he said through gritted teeth. He struggled to stand, all the while holding his stomach. "One of your interrogation tactics, Maria?"

The look she shot him was deadly. "I would hardly blow up my own vehicle," she said.

Unbidden, Giles' mouth twisted into a smile. "I think that's the first good bit of news I've had all day," he said.

Another explosion rocked the air, and the distinct sound of fire trucks trickled through the boom. Running steps came down the outer walkway, and the hotel clerk appeared.

"Have to...evacuate..." he huffed. His face was red from the exertion of running to tell them, and his breath came in rapid gusts. "Fire...downstairs...spreading..." Without waiting for an invitation, he took Maria's elbow as if she was an elderly woman about to cross the street on her own and began leading her back in the direction from which he'd come.

Silas followed, with Paul close on his heels, but Giles grabbed the younger Watcher's arm before he could get too far.

There was only a moment's hesitation before Paul reversed his path to come after Giles, and the two quickly ran as far from their would-be captors as they could.

Tara was surveying the damage across the street when Doyle darted between the fire trucks to saunter to her side. "A little...dramatic, don't you think?" she said with a wry smile.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it? And I knocked out Maria's transportation, so I'd call it pretty darn clever if I do say so myself."

Doyle stuffed his hands into his pockets. "The guy deserved it," he said, with a shrug. "I'm pretty sure he was here cheating on his wife. No way can someone that bald and that stubby have a twenty-something blonde on his arm. I was doing his wife a favor."

Tara shook her head. "Jenny is. I'm going to go see if I can talk to Joyce before she does something even more foolish."

"Then I've got the Watchers." He was already headed back in the direction of the hotel when he shot back over his shoulder, "Tell Joyce she missed all the fireworks."

Extra socks did little to keep her feet warm as Joyce trudged through the snow. She was beginning to regret her decision to search the forest; all she'd seen were trees, snow, and a lake that had frozen over. There was no sign of civilization, and even worse, she wasn't entirely sure which direction was the road any more. She'd left her car parked nearly in the ditch to take her hunt on foot, but with the sun quickly nosing the horizon, she knew she should get back to it and safety before it got too late.

She stopped in her tracks, and looked at the dense forest around her, a blur of black, and white, and brown, and shadows. Everything looked the same.

Not literally, of course, though the barren trees certainly gave that impression, but Buffy hadn't even seen a squirrel as she'd patrolled the perimeter of their barricade. No slaying and all walking made for a very cranky Slayer.

With way too much energy to expend on a certain vampire when she got back to the cabin.

Veering off her path, Buffy began the trek back to the house, her thoughts occupied by naked Spike, and the way his tongue curled against the roof of his mouth when he was being all sexy, and the curl in his hair that he continuously fought. She didn't notice the footprints in the snow until she'd stepped into one, and then stopped, looking down at the track with a frown.

She twisted her ankle so that her foot lined up with the print and noted the closeness in size.

Her head snapped up, Slayer senses on alert as she scanned the growing dimness. She couldn't sense anything but since these were on the inside of the barricade, that meant the vamp was still on the loose. She had to track it before it proved to be a real threat.

The footprints went in circles, with no rhyme or reason to its path. It looked almost as if the vampire had been lost, but as Buffy skirted the edge of the lake, following the tracks back in the direction of the cabin, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something not quite right about the situation. She wasn't getting any kind of tinglies at all, and with so little else in the forest to distract her, she would've thought that was impossible. Had it figured out a way to get past the magical perimeter? No, it couldn't have. It was just stuck like they were, and trying to find a way out.

It was nearly dark when she heard the crack of a stick off to her left. Stealthily, Buffy crept toward it, straining her ears for any other telltale signs.

She saw it before she heard it again, though. Well, she saw its coat. And its trailing scarf. And was that a mitten? Buffy frowned. A vampire that bundled up against the cold? That was a first.

It paused in its walking, and Buffy took the opportunity to circle around to its front. Without a sound, she leapt to a low-hanging branch, and waited for it to move beneath her.

It took a moment for it to resume its path, but as soon as it was close enough, Buffy sprang forward, tackling the vampire around the waist and sending them both into face-first into the snow.

A female shout rang in Buffy's ears, and she twisted around in order to get a better hold on the demon. Her fingers brushed against warm skin when her hand wrapped its wrist, and she stopped in mid-crush.

"Ow!" the woman said, prompting Buffy to release her grip and stumble back onto her ass to get away from the voice she recognized all too well.

Adrenaline only got him so far before he had to rely on Paul's assistance to get him any further. As they ran from the conflagration that was consuming the hotel behind them, Giles saw Maria and Silas being relegated with the few other guests by the firemen who now seemed to be crawling around the premises like an army of ants. She looked annoyed, but it appeared as if every attempt she made to step free from the fracas was thwarted by a uniform of one sort or another.

When they reached the edge of the parking lot, away from the worst of the crowd, Paul stopped, his lungs audibly exhausted from rushing. "Must...rest..." he panted, and nearly toppled when Giles clouted the back of his head.

"Considering how quickly Maria found us when we had resources," Giles snapped, "you must be daft if you think this is sufficient to escape her now."

"Good thing you've got me then," Doyle said, jogging up from across the street to meet them on the edge of the tarmac. "First things first, we need to get you two as far from here as we can."

"Ouch." Doyle frowned and quickly scanned the parking lot. "So, we need a pair of wheels then. Follow me."

As he led them to the nearest car, he whistled beneath his breath, prompting Giles to ask, "Are you not even going to inquire about Joyce?"

Doyle shrugged. "Joyce took off hours ago. Looks like we're all on our lonesome now." He stopped before a white Corvette and grinned. "It means we can travel in style now."

"I never joke when it comes to the classics." His smile widened when the door opened. "And this, my dear friend, is a classic."

Giles could only watch as the ghost's head disappeared below the dash. A moment later, the engine roared to life. "How do you propose we fit in this?" he demanded. "There are three of us and only two seats."

"We're not going far," Doyle assured. Reaching across the interior, he slid the passenger seat back as far as it would go. "I suggest you flip to see who is sitting on whose lap. Or there's always the trunk."

Giles and Paul exchanged quick glances, each assessing the other's weight and height without saying a word.

"C'mon, c'mon, we don't have all day," Doyle pushed. He slipped behind the steering wheel and stroked the leather of the dash. "Though I'm more than happy to take my time if that means I get to drive this beauty a little longer."

"You'll face forward," Giles instructed Paul with a warning finger. "And be careful of your elbows. The last thing I need is one of those adding to Silas' handiwork."

Giles closed his eyes as he took his position in the passenger seat, wincing when Paul squeezed his lanky form onto Giles' lap. There was no room for all of their legs, and the younger man was forced to draw his knees up to his chest in order for the door to close properly.

"I'd say, buckle up," Doyle said with a chuckle, "but that would be a bit silly, now wouldn't it?"

"Just drive," Giles said through gritted teeth. He felt the car begin to move beneath him, wincing again when a wide turn drove Paul's heel into his thigh.

This was all Joyce's fault, he thought. More than anything else, this particular indignity was the worst part of her abandoning them. He would have a few words to say to her when this entire debacle was over.

It took only a moment of stunned silence before Buffy had her arms back around her mother, this time in a fierce hug.

"What're you doing here? How'd you find me? Is Giles with you? You're not hurt, right? Christmas wasn't the same without you..."

And the babble went on and on, even as Joyce started laughing and pulled Buffy's arms away from around her neck.

"You act like you've been cut off completely from civilization for two weeks," she joked. "We both know better than that, don't we? How is Spike? Not dust, right?"

For a moment, Buffy froze as thoughts of her new relationship came slamming back into her consciousness. "You know?" she asked, wide-eyed. "How do you know?"

"A certain ghost called Doyle," came the reply. Looking around at the trees that surrounded them, she added, "So, are you going to make me stand out here in the cold while I find out what happened to you, or are you going to take me to wherever it is you've been keeping yourself safe? I don't know about you, but my toes are freezing."

"Oh! There's a cabin!" After a quick scan to determine her bearings, she pointed off to her left. "Back there. You can warm up by the fire."

They began walking through the snow, their arms around each other's waists. Buffy hadn't realized just how much she'd missed her mom until she was back, and now, feeling her warmth pressed into her side and smelling her faint perfume, it overwhelmed her with sentiment.

"You're stuck now, you know," Buffy said as they trudged through the snow. "There's a magical thingamabob that won't let us out of this part of the forest until after New Year's Eve."

"As far as we've been told, it works on a one-way system. You can check in, but you can't check out. Well, until New Year's Eve, at least."

"That would explain why you're still here, though Doyle did say you and Spike were helping to protect that Holly."

Buffy listened as her mother started telling about what had happened to her over the past few days, but she'd only reached the point of meeting up with Doyle in the bar when the cabin suddenly appeared before them. "Home sweet not-quite-home," she announced. "It's not much, but it's warm, and Spike's great with the fire. It always manages to start going out when I try and stoke it."

As if he'd heard his name, the front door was flung open to reveal the vampire in the entrance, Holly clinging to his back.

"Took you long enough," he teased. "Thought I'd have to---." He cut himself off when he saw Joyce, and he stiffened as he cast a wary glance at Buffy.

"Slayer's mum." He cleared his throat, turning back to the house. "Best get back inside before you catch cold, moptop. Slayer will have my hide if I keep you out here any longer."

Joyce's jaw was dropped as she watched the pair disappear back inside. "That's Holly?" she asked.

Joyce shook her head. "I just didn't think she'd be so young. Rupert must not be aware of her age, either, otherwise he never would've doubted me."

Together, they climbed the steps to the cabin. "How much do you know about what we're doing here?" Buffy asked when they reached the door.

"Enough, I think," Joyce replied. "But it'll be good to compare notes so that we know exactly what to expect."

Buffy's eyes widened as they stepped into the house. Sitting primly on the end of the couch, Holly was staring at the door as if she expected the boogeyman to come jumping through it at any minute, while Spike was busying himself in the kitchen. The soft gurgle of water starting to boil was followed by the sounds of cups being set on the counter, and Buffy caught his eye for a moment before he turned away again, flashing him a pleased smile.

Crouching down in front of the little girl, Joyce smiled gently. "Hello," she said. "Now, who are you?"

She looked to Buffy for approval before replying. "Holly," she said. "Are you really Buffy's mommy?"

Holly jerked, suddenly fearful. "Spike would never hurt Buffy!" she exclaimed. "Spike lo---."

"---is making us tea!" Buffy interrupted. No way could she let a little mouth blab about the depth of her newfound relationship with Spike. "Mom, why don't you make sure he's doing it the way you like it, OK?"

The corner of Joyce's mouth lifted. "You want me to try and correct an Englishman on how to make tea?" she commented.

"Relax, Buffy," Joyce continued. "Sit down. Holly and I are just getting acquainted, aren't we, Holly?"

The little girl nodded, and Buffy could only sigh as her mother took the seat next to the child.

"I think you and I have a mutual acquaintance," Joyce said to Holly. At the girl's confused look, she elaborated, "A common friend."

Holly immediately brightened again. "You saw Doyle? Is he OK? I miss him. He has the best songs! Did he sing for you? I like the one about Mrs. Durkin best."

Not only Joyce was amused by the little girl's exuberance. Buffy giggled at the possibility of what the song he'd been singing had actually been about, relaxing a little as she hung her coat up and settled in.

"No, Doyle didn't sing for me," Joyce was saying. "But I'll be sure to ask him about it the next time I see him."

"Hey!" The vampire's head whipped around, his gaze indignant. "Thought someone said they liked the Ramones."

Taking a moment to look around, Joyce's gaze lingered on the makeshift decorations before settling on the Christmas tree, her eyes going upward to its star. "At least you didn't have to miss the holidays by being here," she said, though this time, her comment was directed more to Buffy than the child.

"Santa came, too," Holly said. She hopped up from the couch and grabbed Joyce's hand. "Wanna see my toys?"

She began leading Joyce to the bedroom. "They're in my room. This is where I sleep. Buffy and Spike sleep up there." She pointed upward to the loft. "But I don't go up there any more unless Buffy says so. I don't do down."

Buffy felt her stomach drop as her mother shot a look over her shoulder before disappearing into the bedroom with Holly. It was one of those patented, "If I heard what I think I heard, you and I will have some serious talking to do later, young lady," looks that Joyce was so good at.

"Well, this is interestin'," Spike commented, coming up behind her. When he tried to slip his arm around her waist, however, she yanked away, whirling to face him with wide eyes.

"Are you kidding me?" she said, her hands on her hips. "My mom is in the next room! Now is not the time for hanky or panky until I get a chance to talk to her, OK?"

His mouth settled into a sulk. "Don't see what the big deal is," he said, plopping down to the couch. "Your mum likes me. She's goin' to be thrilled for you."

"Oh, thrilled, yeah, if that means pissed off in this alternate dimension you seem to have fallen into. Have you forgotten getting beaned by an axe? And you weren't sleeping with her daughter then."

"Just behave until I get a chance to explain it all, all right?" Glancing back at the closed door, Buffy risked leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to Spike's mouth. "Play nice and maybe you'll get out of here with all your body parts intact."

Though she watched them steadily throughout the simple dinner she helped Spike fix and after while they played with Holly, it wasn't until he was tucking the little girl into bed that Joyce brought up the subject directly with Buffy.

"So," she said, as the two women settled on the couch, "do you want to tell me what exactly is going on here?"

Buffy affected her best innocent face. "We're protecting Holly from Maria," she said brightly. "Remember?"

Her eyes flickered to the closed door. She knew he was hiding away from the potential grilling and only wished she could use the same excuse he was. "He saved my life," Buffy said. Her tone was wary. "He could've just left me in the car to die after the accident, but he didn't. I...gave him a second chance after that."

It wasn't a question, and Buffy ducked her head at the disappointment in her mother's voice. "It's not what you think---."

"It's not like that!" At Joyce's frown, she took a deep breath. "I did what you said. In the beginning. We were stuck here, and I was hurt, and---."

"Pretty bad. And Spike patched me up. He just seemed...different, and we started talking, and you know, actually communicating instead of fighting, and I realized...he's not so bad."

"And this 'not so bad' assessment meant that it was all right to have sex with him."

Buffy cringed. Sex talks with her mom never turned out well. In fact, if she could live until she was sixty and never hear her mother use the word "sex" again, Buffy would be one happy Slayer.

"I didn't just fall into bed with him, like you're thinking," she argued. "Give me a little credit for not making that mistake again."

"So you waited...what, a week?" Joyce shook her head. "I'm disappointed in you, Buffy. After everything that happened with Angel, I would've thought you'd learned your lesson."

"He's still a vampire, though. And as much as I might like him, he can't give you what you need."

Buffy lifted her leg to sit cross-legged on the couch so that she could face her mother directly. "What is that exactly? Since you seem to know so well what my needs are."

Joyce's lips thinned. "Don't take that tone of voice with me, young lady."
"But what am I supposed to do? I took your advice, Mom. I put aside all the history and gave Spike a chance. Partially for my own sanity, because, hello, we are kind of snowbound here, but more because I thought he deserved it after all the life save-age. Did you know he carried me through the snowstorm until we found this place? And he stopped me from getting frostbite, and from setting myself on fire when I was sick, and..." She stopped when she saw Joyce's brow had quirked at the growing list.

"You know what I found out?" Buffy asked, changing tactics. "Spike can be pretty darn amazing when he wants to be. He's smart, even though he pretends he's not, and he's funny as hell, and you saw him with Holly. She adores him. Doesn't that count for anything?" She took a deep breath. "I know you want me to have this perfect future, Mom, but let's face it. Odds are not in my favor that it's going to be a very long one. Why can't I just take what happiness I can find now? Especially with someone who's proven that he cares about me."

"And I'm still the Slayer. He's taking just as big of a risk as I am in putting his trust in me. That's gotta count for something with you."

They were silenced by the bedroom door opening again, and the subject in question sauntering out. "Went out like a light," Spike announced. "Think I wore Moptop out today."

Silently, Buffy groaned at the cocky attitude he was displaying, not even noticing until he was standing in front of them that he'd grabbed her coat and was handing it out to her.

"We goin' to go find that Fyarl that was terrorizing the little one yesterday?" he asked.

""Less you found it when you went out to patrol. Then we can just stay in and have a hot cuppa." He looked to Joyce. "Big nasty thing kept tryin' to break into the house couple nights ago. Gave Pidge all sorts of nightmares. Slayer here was s'posed to try trackin' it down this afternoon, but I think finding you cut her search short."

Buffy was about to start questioning whether his blood had gone bad and short-circuited his memory, when she met his innocent gaze and realized what it was he was doing.

"Oh," she said. "That Fyarl. No, I didn't find it, which means we should probably get out there and kill it tonight before it tries attacking again." When she rose and took her coat from him, there was a moment where their fingers brushed, her skin tingling at just the slight contact. She couldn't risk meeting his eyes again, but when she turned her back to him to face her mom, Spike's hand crept surreptitiously between them to settle at the small of her back.

"We won't be gone long," Buffy promised, and leaned down to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. "But we have to make sure everything's safe, especially now that you're here." She led the way to the door, only looking back when they reached the threshold.

"I'm really glad you found us," she said softly, a faint smile on her lips. "And please, trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Thankfully, Doyle didn't drive for long. As soon as they found a small garage that also rented cars, Giles and Paul insisted that he pull over so that they could put Joyce's credit card to good use. One swift negotiation later---which wasn't actually a negotiation because the young woman in charge of the rentals seemed all too eager to serve them once she heard their accents---and the trio were on the road again in a used Taurus.

They argued along the way regarding their destination. Doyle was of the opinion that everyone was much better off in Sunnydale until after the New Year, but as Giles was the one behind the steering wheel at this point, he was the one making the decision. He knew Joyce considered Buffy to be somewhere near where the accident had occurred, and it was his intention to try and intercept her. Perhaps they would find Buffy; perhaps they wouldn't. But he wasn't about to let her go stumbling into it alone. She wasn't prepared to deal with such dangerous matters like either Buffy or himself, and he wouldn't have any potential harm to her occur when he could do something about it.

As they neared the town where Giles had had the accident, Doyle's protestations getting more vociferous and more outlandish by the mile, Giles' breathing began to labor. The muscles in his chest were seizing from the stiff posture of driving for so long, and it was becoming impossible to steer the wheel effectively.

"I believe we're going to have to stop for the night," he announced when he saw a hotel sign loom on the horizon.

"No. I need to lie down," Giles said. He angled the nose of the car into the parking lot, breathing a sigh of relief when he was able to park and lower his arms.

"I'll get us a room," Doyle volunteered. "Just one, though. If Maria decides to come looking for you again, I can feel her magic before she gets too close. We'll have a chance to escape then."

Giles merely nodded. Leaning back into his seat, he closed his eyes as he tried to ignore the pain in his abdomen and chest. Wherever she was, a small, spiteful part of him hoped that Joyce was suffering for her independence as much as he was.

48. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear

Though his body screamed in protest, Spike waited until the cabin was out of sight before grabbing Buffy by the upper arms and shoving her up against the nearest tree.

"What...?" she started to say.

But she was silenced by the force of his mouth crashing to hers, his body wanting and hard pushing her into the rough bark. He almost broke when her fingers lifted to coil in his hair, pulling him closer as her lips matched his. It was hard to fool himself into thinking this was a temporary thing for her when the echoes of what he'd overheard inside were so quickly followed by her demanding need.

"My mom," she gasped when she broke for air. A slim hand feebly gestured in the direction of the house. "Just...inside the cabin."

"Which is why we're out here." Releasing his grip on her arms, Spike slid his hands down Buffy's sides to settle at her hips, grinding his pelvis and aching erection against her stomach. His mouth dropped to the small spot beneath her ear. "Heard what you told her," he whispered. "Heard every word."

Buffy stilled within his arms. "Did I say something wrong?"

He chuckled. "Said everything right."

Her hot breath slivered down his neck, clouding in the cooler air to send wispy tendrils to curl before his eyes when his mouth returned to hers. The heat of those tremulous puffs of air were nothing compared to the inferno of her tongue as it swirled around his, inviting and as hungry as the longing he'd been stoking ever since Buffy had defended him for all and sundry to hear.

"You know...she knows," Buffy said in between kisses. "What...we're doing out here."

"Don't bloody care." His teeth caught her bottom lip and tugged when she tried to pull away, a single hand lifting to the back of her neck to demand it if need be. Groaning when she slid a hand between their torsos to curl around his denim-covered erection, Spike attacked her mouth with a renewed fervor, not even noticing when the force with which he pressed her back into the tree knocked some snow loose to rain about their heads.

"You should." Another kiss, longer and deeper and oh so ravenous that it left her panting and gazing up at him with black eyes. "Friends and family," she said. "Part of the whole Buffy Summers package."

Letting his grip in her hair go, Spike traced a path along her jaw, down the front of her jacket, and inside the waistband of her pants to find the hot moisture already seeping through her panties. "This part of the package, too?" he crooned, tilting his head and just savoring the way Buffy's throat convulsed as she swallowed, the hypnotic pounding of her pulse in the tender hollow. He could have it if he wanted. She'd let him. All he had to do was ask.

But as powerful as the desire to taste her again was, the satisfaction he'd gained in hearing her declare her complete trust to the one person who meant the most to her was greater. There was no way he'd supplant that with his own base needs. He loved the bloody bird too much for that.

Didn't mean he couldn't still get a taste of her, though. Just a different kind.

Removing his hand from her pants, Spike ignored Buffy's whimper at the loss and returned to kissing her, distracting her with long, sweeping motions of his tongue and lips as he took her wrists and guided her hands to the low branch just over her head. Buffy yanked back slightly when he curled her fingers around the limb, and he chuckled, a wicked grin playing on his mouth.

"Hang on," he said, and let go, crouching down before her to swiftly undo her pants.

"Cold! Cold!" Buffy shrieked when the winter air hit her bare thighs.

He was standing again before she could react, his hands strong on hers. "Don't," he warned. "Trust me."

She immediately relaxed, though a small line appeared between her brows as she waited for whatever it was he had planned next.

Dropping back to his knees, Spike pushed her pants down past her knees, and then grasped her shivering hips. He lifted her up, and ducked his head so that her trousers-bound calves were behind his neck and the back of her thighs rested on his shoulders. Even better, her lovely wet quim was just inches from his mouth, and he salivated as the scent of her arousal became all that stronger.

He couldn't warm her with his body heat, but he could use what he could to shield her from the cold, curving his arms around her thighs and stroking up and down along the goose-bumped flesh. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to the dampness of her underwear and just sucked, the faint tang of her juices rousing him even more than he had been.

Around his shoulders, Buffy's legs tightened, drawing him closer in silent demand for more. Letting his fangs extend, Spike sliced the delicate fabric, exposing her even more, and smiled when she gasped at the sudden chill. "I can always stop if you're too cold," he said, pretending to pull away.

With a harsh tug, her calves drew him back to her heat. "Then you'd better make sure I stay warm," she replied.

"My pleasure," Spike murmured. His tongue slipped between her slick folds, and he focused his senses on listening to the torturous rhythms of her body, letting the pounding of her heart and the racing of her blood set his tempo. Up and down, around and around, and every swipe and every lick added a beat to her cascading pulse until his skin vibrated along with her.

She ground against his mouth, trying to focus his attention on her clit, but Spike taunted her with only the barest of nips at the sensitive nub before returning to his feast. He could keep this up all night, just drinking her down and---.

"Spike," Buffy hissed.

He was jerked forward when her legs tensed even more. "Bossy wench," he murmured, but knew she couldn't hear him over her ragged breathing. Tearing one hand away from the strength of her thigh, he pulled it back into his body so that he could begin stroking her opening, sliding a single finger in and out as he continued lapping at her juices.

Slowly, Buffy began moving her hips, lifting them and then letting them fall as she fucked herself with his finger. When he added a second and then a third, her gyrations grew more frenetic, her skin rasping against the bark, and one of her hands released the branch overhead to tangle in Spike's hair.

As soon as he felt her touch, Spike broke away from the draw of her pussy, rising back to his feet as he fumbled with his fly. He had little room to move; the circle of her legs, closed by her pants caught at her ankles, was tight around his hips, but determination and desire made him struggle to make it work. Pulling out his cock, Spike gave it a strong pump before guiding it to her opening, and then dropped his head to her shoulder when she fell from the limb to slam down the length of his shaft.

"Buffy..." he groaned, and held still as he felt her mold around his length. The contrast between the chilly bite in the air and the sultry moisture of her quim was making Spike shiver, and he had to cup her ass to steady himself as he slowly began to slide in and out.

He didn't want it to end. If it wasn't for the cold, he'd keep his Slayer out all night so that he could keep her wrapped around him, on him, in him, skin to skin and flesh to flesh. He hadn't completely expected her to defend him so vigorously to her mother, and then hearing the words...

Spike buried his face in her neck as she clung to his back, her strong thighs around his hips so tightly he feared she'd snap him in half. "Love you..." he murmured. "So much..."

"Me, too," Buffy whispered. Her teeth nipped at his ear, before traveling down his neck to bite at the curve just bared at his t-shirt.

Faster and harder, harder and faster, until all he could feel was Buffy, and all he could smell was Buffy, and nothing else mattered in the space beyond their arms. The force of his driving her against the tree rubbed his hands against the bark, and though he felt the first tricklings of blood start to drip from his knuckles, he went on, taking the pain and powering it into his thrusts, listening to her gasp and moan and whisper his name for more.

He came first, though he so desperately wanted to wait until she had, and as he shot deep within her pussy, Spike released a single hold on her bottom to reach between their torsos and pinch her clit.

Buffy cried out, squeezing around his cock so tight that the orgasm he'd thought was done renewed itself with another surge. The ripples undulating down her inner muscles tugged and pulled him into one last thrust, his hips finally stilling as they both rode out the waves of their pleasure.

In order to escape the circle of her legs, Spike had to slide down her body, but when he reached the swelter of her dripping pussy, he couldn't resist leaning in to devour the juices, sucking at her opening and causing her to gasp when his tongue went diving in deeper for more. She squeaked from the surprise, and reached for the branch overhead to steady herself as he finished his post-coital treat, writhing in another orgasm when his teeth joined his tongue.

Finally breaking free from the draw of her flesh, Spike immediately regretted the lack of her heat, but when he started to reach for her hips again, Buffy batted his hands away.

"One of us has body heat that's escaping," she warned. Dropping to her feet, she bent to pull up her pants. "Ewww." Grimacing, she squirmed slightly as she did up the button and zipper. "How can you go commando? This just feels weird."

Spike grinned and reached inside the waistband of her trousers to rip the remains of her underwear free. "It's all about access," he said, tucking the scrap of fabric into his coat pocket. "You'll save yourself more than a few quid if you just stopped with the delicates all together, luv."

"But then you won't have anything to steal from me," she said in wide-eyed innocence. She laughed at the obvious shock on his face. "What? You think I hadn't noticed that some of my underwear was missing? You kind of gave yourself away, Spike. With it only being you and me, it was pretty obvious the line-up had a grand total of one suspect."

When she slid her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest, he wrapped her within the confines of his coat to help her warm up. "Thank you," he murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

"For not busting your chops about stealing my panties?"

"For not running in the opposite direction when your mum showed up." He ducked his eyes at her curious glance, suddenly embarrassed that he'd ever thought it could be a possibility at all. "Meant a lot to me, hearin' what you had to say."

"I don't see why you're so surprised. It's all true."

He had nothing to say to that, and instead devoured her mouth in a languorous kiss to convey the depth of his gratitude. When they broke apart, her mouth curved into a mischievous smile.

"I don't think Fyarls are so easy to catch, do you?" she asked. "And there are an awful lot of trees in this forest..."

Spike ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth. "Not too cold?"

"Nah. For some reason, I'm feeling all warm and squishy."

All of a sudden, she was gone from his embrace, and he turned to see her make a dash through the trees. Her laughter floated back to him as he started the chase, a grin splitting his features.

Life was good.

It was almost a shame they would have to go back to Sunnyhell in a couple days.

-----

Considering how little they had to work with, Joyce was impressed with just how homey Buffy and Spike had made the small cabin. The handmade Christmas decorations warmed the bare interior, and the few toys that were scattered about reminded any and all that a child lived there. She wasn't sure she wanted to consider why she found one of Buffy's bras slipped behind the stack of firewood at the side of the hearth, but considering the revelation that her daughter was sharing a bed with Spike, she thought she already had a pretty good idea.

Curling up on the couch with one of the books from the shelves, she read while she waited for them to return from their demon search. An hour had elapsed before she heard a sound, but the door that opened was not the one she expected.

Holly stood framed in the dark bedroom doorway, a ragged doll clutched tightly to her chest. Her cheeks glistened with the tracks of dried tears, but she could only stare as Joyce set down her book.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Joyce asked gently.

"I heard something."

She held open her arms. "Come here."

Though the child hesitated, her eyes were luminous as she slowly stepped forward, stopping short of the offered embrace. Her gaze flickered over the invitation before returning to Joyce's face.

"Where's Buffy and Spike?" she asked. Her voice was tiny, but the fear in it was not.

"They went out for a little while. They'll be back soon." In lieu of holding the little girl to console her, Joyce patted the seat next to her on the couch, smiling when Holly climbed up and tucked her knobby knees beneath her tiny chin. "It was probably one of them you heard. So, nothing to be scared of."

"Why don't you like Spike?"

It was not a question she expected. "I like Spike just fine," Joyce said. "Who do you think taught him that hot chocolate recipe?"

"He thinks he's scary, but he's not. He's my friend."

"I know." Her smile grew gentler. "He cares about you a lot."

"He said he loves me." Wide eyes. A mouth that contracted into a tight "o." A whisper. "I wasn't supposed to tell that."

"That's OK. I kind of figured that part out for myself."

Holly chewed at her lower lip, visibly weighing her next words. "Spike loves Buffy, too."

Hearing it spoken out loud was different than seeing it acted so covertly before her eyes. Taking a deep breath, Joyce decided to change the subject. "You want to wait here with me until they get back?"

The child nodded. "Spike plays with me, too."

"Do you want me to play with you?"

A shake of her head. "I just want you to know."

Apparently, Holly wasn't going to let the topic get dropped.

"Why do you think Spike...feels that way about Buffy?" Joyce asked carefully. She couldn't say the words herself; that made it just a little too real.

"Because he cried when he thought she was going to die."

"He...what?"

She'd witnessed Spike's tears before, of course. Comforting him when he'd been so broken about Drusilla. She'd seen the anguish that had been tearing him apart. For some reason, she had a hard time picturing that same anguish in relation to Buffy.

"He was sad," Holly said solemnly. "Don't you cry when you're sad?"

"Well, yes..."

"And then he was happy again when she got made all better. So, see? He loves her."

Joyce's smile was slightly patronizing. "Oh, sweetie, it's not that easy."

"Yes, it is."

The earnestness in the little face was too heartbreaking to argue with. When Holly looked at her like this, Joyce could easily understand how Spike could get so smitten with the child. He had a soft spot for being needed.

The thought made her pause. Was that what had happened? Buffy had been incapacitated from the car accident. If she'd taken Joyce's advice and been nicer to Spike during a time when she was relying upon him, it was entirely possible that he might have lowered his guard with Buffy to let her see some of the person beneath the rough exterior. That was how Joyce had come to see the softer side of Spike. The qualities Buffy had described were just some of what Joyce had seen.

"Why don't you tell me about some of the other things Spike has been doing?" Joyce coaxed. Maybe if she knew more about how their lives had been on a day to day basis over the past two weeks, she might better understand the relationship that had developed.

For Buffy's sake, she hoped she could.

-----

They registered under Doyle's name in hopes that it would at least slow any attempts Maria might make to locate them. Though the hotel didn't have any rooms with three beds, almost immediately, Doyle relinquished any claim to needing one, using his ghost status as the reason once they were out of earshot of the clerk. Giles was relieved to be able to stretch out, even if the mattress was less than optimal and the blankets smelled like cigarette smoke, taking pleasure in the soothing darkness to quickly fall into a deep slumber.

He woke to the sound of voices arguing, and blinked into the murk to see a crack of light coming from the closed bathroom door. Paul was still out, and the clock on the nightstand read just a few minutes before midnight. The one missing was Doyle, but who he could be talking to, Giles had no idea.

Wincing as he sat up, he had to wait a long moment before he could find the strength to stand. He had a strong suspicion that at least two ribs were cracked and knew he most likely shouldn't be moving at all, but he was just so weary of secrets being kept that he couldn't help but drive himself upward, to step quietly toward the bathroom in order to hear what was going on.

"...should've known," Doyle was saying. "That's one determined woman, that Joyce."

In spite of himself, Giles smiled. Joyce must've found Buffy after all.

"Buffy had to get it from somewhere."

His smile vanished. His heart clenched.

He knew that voice.

"How'd she take the news?"

"Tara said it looked good, considering. She got there too late to actually intervene, and has just been watching Joyce to make sure everything's OK."

Giles' trembling hand came up to the door. He couldn't be this close and not see her. Perhaps just a small peek...

The conversation paused, and he held his breath as he waited for them to continue. When the door began to move away from him, he couldn't react, so frozen to his spot as he merely waited.

And saw.

Jenny smiled when she saw him, her dark eyes sad. "Hello, Rupert," she said.

To be continued in Chapter 49: Said the Night Wind to the Little Lamb...

49. Said the Night Wind to the Little Lamb

Giles barely noticed when Doyle stepped out of the way from where he'd opened the door. He barely heard the awkward excuse the corporeal ghost muttered before slipping out of the bath and into the bedroom. All he could see was her, and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

He'd never thought he would see her again.

See those dancing eyes.

See that wicked smile.

Jenny.

"If you don't want to give Paul a free show," she said with a small smile, "you might want to come inside and shut the door."

Her words shattered the spell that bound him, and Giles crossed the threshold, nudging the door just enough to close behind him. "They said..." he started, but he didn't know where to go after that. What could he possibly say to her that wouldn't leave his heart in ribbons? What could he possibly do that could make this situation any better?

"I'm so sorry it had to be like this," Jenny said. "I didn't want you to have to hurt any more by seeing me."

He frowned. "Didn't you...wish to see me?" The question was choked from his throat.

"Of course." She took a step closer, reaching out to touch him before remembering that he wouldn't be able to feel her anyway. Her hand dropped back to her side. "Now, always, every chance I get, I check in on you. To make sure you're all right. But this...I know how hard it must be for you."

Tears stung his eyes, and he wanted to duck his head to hide them but that would mean not seeing her, not having her in front of him, and he couldn't do that, he just couldn't. "I'm so sorry," Giles whispered. "I never meant-."

"I know."

The pounding of his heart inside his chest almost drowned out the soft words, and he swallowed as he tried to regain some control. "You look lovely," he said before he could stop from blurting the words, and then flushed. "Well, that was ridiculous. Of course, you look lovely-."

"Rupert. Stop." Jenny shook her head as he fell silent. "I'm going to say this now, and I'm only going to say this once. What happened to me...was not your fault. I know what you tried to do, and I know it wasn't...easy, finding me like you did, but it was all Angelus. If I'd been honest with all of you from the start, maybe things would've been different, but that's not what happened. And I'm perfectly all right with that. I just wish you still didn't hurt so much about all of it."

"I could've-."

"No, you couldn't."

"I should've-."

"No, you shouldn't." She sighed. "Are we going to go through all the could've's, should've's, would've's?" Jenny asked. The corner of her mouth lifted. "Because it's not really the point, now, is it? Shouldn't we be concentrating on making sure that Buffy succeeds in saving Holly from Maria's plans?"

He started to speak, and then stopped, the sudden dawning of what she was doing staying his argument. "You're attempting to distract me," Giles said, incredulous. At least some of his initial ache at seeing her was abating. "You're changing the subject, just like-."

But he couldn't finish that thought, because that thought carried with it the pain of blame and memories that he'd thought he'd already dealt with.

"Is it working?" She wore a full smile now, and her eyes were bright with amusement.

"No."

"It never did. You were always too stubborn, Rupert. I'm glad to see that hasn't changed."

His breath was too much for his lungs, and he exhaled loudly, leaning against the sink and rubbing at his eyes. "I've missed you," Giles murmured. For some reason, it was easier to say out loud when he wasn't looking at her. It was almost as if he was back in his bed and saying it into the darkness, like he had so many nights after she'd been killed.

"I've missed you, too," she replied. She must've stepped closer because, without lifting his head, he could see the swish of her skirt appear in his circle of vision. "I've worried about you. I hate seeing you unhappy."

Looking up, he saw that her smile had vanished. "I've managed. Buffy and I have been...busy."

"Is that your reason for not calling Olivia since she returned to England?" At his obvious shock that she knew such a detail, Jenny shook her head. "I told you I was watching."

"Spying, more likely."

"Probably. But if I hadn't been, I wouldn't have found out about Maria's plan for you, and then we wouldn't have been able to do anything about getting Buffy and Spike to watch over Holly."

"You...what?"

"I'm surprised you didn't figure it out already. You didn't think it was strange that everyone was suddenly unavailable to watch Spike? It took some finagling to convince Mrs. Rosenberg to go to Wisconsin, but it's looking like it was well worth it in the end."

"Are you saying all of this was orchestrated?" His pain was dissipating in light of the truth coming out, and he straightened as he addressed her. "You're the reason Buffy's been trapped with Spike for the past two weeks?"

"Well, no, that was more Tara's doing. I didn't think Spike was the best choice for this assignment."

"Tara? Who is Tara?"

"Sit down, Rupert. If you promise not to interrupt, I'll tell you everything."

Somehow, he managed to forget halfway through her story that it was Jenny telling the tale-well, not forget, per se, but distracted enough by the newfound information not to dwell on his own feelings.

"She's...three?" he asked, for the third time since Jenny had finished.

"At least, for the next forty-eight or so hours she is."

"But...Maria told us she was her daughter. That would be quite impossible-."

"Maria manipulated your emotions to get you to help her," Jenny said. "That's what she does. She took three Watchers who felt they'd failed their Slayers, and used their guilt to try and serve her own interests." She smiled. "I should've known you'd be too smart for her."

"I wasn't. It was all Joyce. Until she arrived, I was quite content to continue our search." Giles paused, frowning. "Well, perhaps not quite content. But I would likely have continued if Joyce hadn't intervened."

"Actually, I heard she fell through Paul's window."

He glanced up and caught Jenny's amused smile. Oh, how he had missed her wry observations. It just felt so right having this conversation with her, as if the last two years without her hadn't happened. It must have shown in his face, though, because her smile slowly faded.

"You know what I wish?" she asked. Her tone was contemplative. "I wish that you could walk away from this and move on. Let go of the past. It's holding you back, Rupert, and you don't really want that. I don't want that."

"I can't," he admitted. "If I let it go, I run the risk of having someone else get hurt in the same way you were. I won't let that happen."

"You're cheating yourself."

"And I'm saving lives in the process. I consider that a fair trade, don't you?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "Actually, I don't. People die, Rupert. You can't change that. And if someone is already running that risk every other day of their life, what does it matter if you keep them at arms' length or not? You're not really interested in keeping other people safe. You're interested in not getting hurt again."

Rising to his feet, Giles felt a surge of anger at her words. "And how exactly would you know that?" he demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, Jenny, you haven't been around for the past two years. What I've done, I've done for all the right reasons. You, of all people, should understand that."

"Now there's the Rupert I remember. All self-righteous bluster even when he knows he's wrong."

It was said with affection, her eyes dancing, and it completely deflated the burn that had been mounting within his chest. "I don't bluster," he argued, though they both recognized the ineffectiveness of his statement and smiled almost at exactly the same time. "And you are still one of the most infuriating women I have ever known."

"I guess they're your kink, then, huh? It certainly explains Joyce." Jenny laughed at the confusion he couldn't hide. "It's all right to be attracted to her, you know."

"I'm not-."

"I've got just two words for you. Band candy."

Giles blushed. "You...know about that?"

"Know about it? Whose idea do you think it was? And it was working out great until you two decided to go all shy afterwards. What was that all about anyway?"

"It wouldn't have been...appropriate."

"That's ridiculous. Give me one good reason why Joyce is such a bad thing for you."

He looked her in the eyes then. "Because she's not you."

His words were not what she expected, and she visibly sagged beneath the weight of them. "Talk about placing a burden of guilt on a girl," Jenny said softly. "Do you know how hard it is to tote such a load when your shoulders aren't even solid?"

The joke fell flat. "I'm not interested in relationships right now," Giles said. "I thought...with Olivia...but the incident with the Gentlemen was too much for her. I'm not sure why I expected otherwise."

"It would be too much for a lot of people. Maybe not for Joyce, considering how things have turned out so far with Holly."

"Jenny-."

"I'm dropping it, I promise. If you promise me that you're going to start taking care of yourself better. Even Buffy's grabbing happiness while she can, so if the busy Slayer can do it, I certainly think her Watcher can."

He only nodded. He didn't know what else to say to her. All his words were exhausted, and his heart was leaden with the knowledge that he would likely never get the chance to see her again. Perhaps this had been a bad idea, after all. Perhaps Joyce had been right in keeping him in the dark.

"You should rest," Jenny said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "I've...asked for a little something to help you heal more quickly. I'm sorry you ended up on the wrong end of Maria's interrogation." When Giles didn't move right away, she closed the gap between them and waited until he met her eyes again.

"I know what you want," she said. "I know you want me to say that I forgive you. But I can't. There's nothing to forgive, Rupert. You. Did nothing. Wrong. I know you don't believe me, but maybe you will someday. I just hope it's sooner rather than later."

Clearing his throat to avoid the tears that threatened to spill, Giles reached for the door knob. "Just tell me one thing," he said, his back to her, his hand almost trembling. "Are you happy?"

"Yes." No hesitation. She didn't even have to think about it, he realized. "What I do now...it's important. It matters. It makes up for not...for all the other."

It was all he wanted to hear. "Thank you," Giles murmured, and stepped back into the murk of the hotel room. Paul still slept, and in the chair by the window, Doyle was flipping through an old TV Guide, reading it by the moonlight that came in through the open curtains. He glanced up when Giles emerged, but his face was in shadows, the light from behind shielding him from inspection.

"You should rest, man," Doyle said. The echo of Jenny's words made Giles sag in exhaustion. "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day."

"Oh?" he asked, climbing carefully back into his bed. "And why's that?"

"You'll see." Doyle's veiled statement echoed inside Giles' head as sleep overcame him again. "You'll see..."

He only agreed to go back to the cabin so quickly because Buffy pulled out her secret weapon.

"It's only been a couple hours," Spike complained as she began pulling him in the direction of the house again. He tugged just enough to pull her against him, her bottom nestling firmly against his erection, his arm snaking around her waist. "Can think of a whole bunch of ways we can spend the rest of the night," he said as he buried his face in her hair. "And not one of 'em involves bein' inside."

"Mom's going to start worrying," Buffy said. "She's having a hard enough time dealing with the idea of you and me as it is. Do you really want to make it any harder?"

Spike ground his cock into her bottom. "Not sure that's possible, luv."

With a sigh, she twisted in his arms, lifting her face to look at him.

And there it came.

That bloody lower lip.

All petulant, and demanding, and begging him to pay attention to it.

Bitch.

"Please?" Buffy asked. "Do it for me?"

Doomed. That's what he was. A sucker for a lower lip and a little scrap of solicitude.

Rolling his eyes, Spike sighed, the sound loud and drawn out in the crisp night air. "Just remember you'll owe me one," he said. He shook his head when she began pulling him along, their fingers entwined. At least he'd got a few good hours before returning to the lion's den.

Or rather, mama lion's den.

When they opened the door, both Buffy and Spike were surprised by the sight of Joyce sitting on the couch, still awake. A book was open in her lap, and Holly was curled into her side, fast asleep, her index finger stuck fast in her mouth.

"You're still up," Buffy said.

"Sshhh," Joyce warned. "She finally went back to sleep."

"Pidge wasn't sleepwalkin' again, was she?"

"No, just a little unsettled. We had a lovely visit while we waited for you two, though." She held her hand up to stop him when Spike moved to pick Holly up. "I have an idea," Joyce said. "Why doesn't Buffy put her to bed, and then spend the night in there? I'd like to have a few words with you, Spike."

"Mom, you don't-."

"It's OK, pet." His eyes never left the elder Summers woman. "You'd best get some rest. Me and your mum have some stuff to talk over anyway."

"You mean, you want to talk about me."

"And they say Slayers are only good with their fists," he teased.

Buffy gave in gracefully, scooping Holly up in her arms after giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. She stopped in front of Spike before going into the bedroom. "Play nice," she warned, and shot a look over her shoulder at her mom. "Both of you."

Joyce stayed silent until the door was firmly closed behind Buffy, and then rose from her seat. "Hungry?" she asked, stepping to the kitchen. "I would imagine you must've worked up quite an appetite."

Tilting his head as he regarded her, Spike slipped his coat off his shoulders and dropped it to a chair near the door. If he didn't know better, he would've thought Joyce was deliberately baiting him-. Hell, he did know better, and yeah, she sure as hell was. He smiled. He knew he'd always liked Joyce for a reason.

"I'll take care of it," he said, sauntering to join her. "Something tells me you've not had much practice warming up blood."

"You've got me there." She handed over the packet she'd removed from the fridge, and watched as he set to heating it. Her gaze was contemplative, and much of the disapproval from earlier seemed to be missing. "Holly really adores you, you know."

Spike stirred the viscous liquid. "Should see Buffy with her," he said. "It was a little rough at first, but they've come a long way."

"So have you, it looks like."

"Is this the part where you tell me to get the hell away from your daughter?" He teased her with her own words, but when he cast a glance at her through his eyelashes, he couldn't help but see the serious set of her mouth.

"No," Joyce said. "This is the part where I ask if this is just a way for you to get back at Buffy, once and for all."

All pretense at trying to remain nonchalant about the matter vanished. "What are you talkin' about?"

"Don't play games with me, Spike. I know how much trouble you've been for Buffy, and I know how very much not thrilled you are about your current situation. Convince me that this isn't some elaborate scheme of yours to hurt Buffy the only way you can now. She cares about you, and you of all people should know that the only way to get to Buffy is through her heart."

"Never even considered that," Spike said in all honesty. "Not a bad plan, considering. Too bad I didn't think of it before fallin' for her for real. I know you don't want to hear it, Joyce, but I love Buffy."

"Last I heard, you loved Drusilla."

"Yeah, well, Dru left, now didn't she?"

"So, Buffy is just her stand-in? Is that what you're telling me?"

"No, that's not what I said."

"That's what it sounded like."

"Looks like I figured out where Buffy gets her selective hearing from." He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but Spike's rising irritation at being misunderstood was getting the better of him.

"Look," he said, and pulled the pan off the burner so that he could devote all his attention to Joyce, "I'm not goin' to lie and say I was over the moon when Buffy and I found out we were stuck here, with only the other for company. But a lot's changed since then. We had to wipe the slate clean, if you know what I mean, or there was no way we would've lasted a single day without tearing each other's throat out. Was the best thing that's happened to me in a long time, 'cause I finally got the chance to really see her. I don't have to tell you she's an amazing young woman."

Joyce's eyes narrowed. "But she's still the Slayer," she said. "And you're still a vampire. Angel-."

"-is a wanker for givin' up so easily. 'Course, that worked out better for me."

"Because it makes Buffy vulnerable?"

"I was goin' to say available, actually."

Pressing her lips together, Joyce just stared at him for a long minute, every second adding to Spike's discomfort. Finally, she said, "Holly told me about Buffy almost dying."

He stilled. "Oh?" Memories of how the little one had walked in on him crying burned, and he turned to pull a mug out of the cupboard before his feelings about how close he'd come to losing Buffy were written across his face.

"I want you to know...I'm thankful that you were here to look after my little girl. I can't stand the thought that I might lose her again."

"And you won't, if I have anything to say about the matter," he replied, his voice husky.

"For some reason, I think I want to believe you."

"No, I think you're more inclined to be believing a certain little moptop who doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut. Believing me is just an unfortunate side effect."

"Maybe not so unfortunate," Joyce said quietly.

Risking another glance, Spike saw her wiping wearily at her eyes. "Been a long day for you, hasn't it?" he asked.

"You have no idea."

He kept his gaze averted, pouring out his blood as he spoke. "Since Buffy's in with the little one, you might as well take the bed upstairs. I'll just camp out on the couch. Be better for keeping an eye out in case Pidge decides to do another walkabout."

"Thank you," Joyce said. "I'd appreciate that."

Listening to her climb the ladder, Spike waited until he heard the squeak of the bed before glancing around at the now empty room. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened there, but he had a sneaking suspicion he'd managed to come out ahead in this first round of wrangling with Buffy's everyday life.

And he was even more convinced that the reason he'd done so well was all due to Holly. He was going to have to pay her back for it in the morning.

To be continued in Chapter 50: Paint Red Rattles on Old Rollie...