DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Buffy is rounding up the Scooby gang for a meeting to discuss how to get back to Sunnydale, while Spike has just discovered that his chip doesn’t work…

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

He had almost forgotten how it felt…the rage searing his veins as his fists battered against spongy flesh, the recoil a natural impetus for his next blow…the taut stretch of skin across his knuckles, tightening only to tear and weep with stolen blood…the sense of purpose that imbued his demon self, directing him with a decadent zeal that had somehow been lacking over the past few weeks. Not until it was returned did Spike fully realize how stripped he had felt, how bereft in the face of another’s power, but now…

With the chip unable to punish him any longer, the vampire was desperate to embrace what exactly that meant for him. It meant no second-best blood bags, but the real deal, the crimson lifeforce supped as it was intended…hot and gushing with the memory of a heartbeat still enriching its essence. It meant the right to pick his own course, to decide for himself if he was coming or going, to err or succeed based on his choice, not someone else’s.

It meant freedom.

Turning golden eyes toward the inert form on the sidewalk, Spike felt the fury that had only just started to subside, begin to surge forth again, the desire to kill Mack a coppery tang in his fanged mouth. One foot had even stepped forward, closing the distance between him and his intended victim, before Willow’s voice rang out in the night.

“Don’t touch him, Spike,” she warned. “You’ve done enough damage for now.”

“Oh, the damage is only beginnin’, Red,” the vampire crooned. “Mr. Mack here’s goin’ to learn just how much pain he can take before he’s beggin’ for me to kill him.”

“You lay one more finger on him and I’ll tell Buffy what you’ve done.” Willow grimaced, glad Spike wasn’t watching her, couldn’t see how lame she knew that sounded. I might as well wear a big sign around my neck that says, I’m a big fat tattletale, she thought.

That stopped him. Letting his demon face slide away, the vampire pivoted to look at the young witch, so keen to put as much space between them that she now very nearly stood in the club’s front door. “This is about Buffy,” he said evenly. “He thought he could just pay me off, like she was chattel or somethin’, like anyone could even think of putting a price tag on her, or on how I feel about her. I’d say that merits a little bit of punishment.”

“I’ll agree, not the nicest thing he could’ve done,” the redhead acquiesced. “But he’s already pretty badly beaten. Anything more will just be overkill.” She stopped, frowning. “OK, bad choice of words, but you get the idea.”

“Me and Buffy had ourselves a little breakthrough this afternoon, thanks to your spot of advice. Seems she really does love me after all. I think she’ll understand.”

Willow actually laughed out loud. “Hello? What world are you living in? ‘Cause the Buffy I know will stake you faster than you could say ‘bloody hell’ if she thinks you’re any kind of a threat.”

“Not me. She wouldn’t do that.” But the doubt was already beginning to creep into his voice.

“Because you think she loves you?” The young witch shook her head. “If you think loving you makes you immune to her sense of responsibility, Spike, you don’t really know her at all. She killed Angel and he had a soul. Why should you be any different?”

She was right, and both of them knew it. He’d actually forgotten about the poofter, how Buffy had sent him to a hell dimension in order to save her world, how she’d done that in spite of how she felt about him. And Spike wasn’t so blinkered that he thought she’d somehow ignore her calling just for him. He’d just…forgotten for a minute.

“Fine,” he finally said. “You win. But I’m moving up our plans. I need to get Buffy away now, get us and this whole situation sorted.”

As he started to march into the club, Willow jumped forward, braving proximity to physically stop him from entering by pressing her hand against his chest. “Whoa there, big boy,” she said. “Plan’s off. No way am I letting you get anywhere near Buffy with that chip of yours in full working order.”

“Because I’m goin’ to…what? Kill her? Don’t be daft, Red. I love her. She may piss me off sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I want her dead. I like her just fine the way she is.”

“What about the rest of us, Spike?” She was terrified, the all-too real possibility that she’d push the vampire too far sending bolts of fear coursing through her system, but she wasn’t going to back down. She couldn’t. “It wasn’t that long ago you were trying to kill me. What’s stopping you from finishing what you started?”

The blond vampire tilted his head, looking down at her through hooded lashes. Up to this point, he hadn’t really considered the ramifications of what not having the chip would mean in regards to the Scooby gang. His ravenous bloodthirst had been focussed on revenge, and the hunt associated with the kill, not on those meals that were nearest to him. Yet, considering it now, with Red’s throat so exquisitely exposed above the low-cut décolletage, Spike discovered that he didn’t really want to kill her. Not that she wouldn’t be delicious---of all Buffy’s little sidekicks, Willow was infinitely the most interesting---but somehow, it didn’t seem…right.

He almost groaned out loud as the word popped into his head. Turning into Angel after all, he thought. And I don’t have a bleedin’ soul to blame it on. But, it was there, and he couldn’t ignore it. He actually liked Willow, and he liked having her around. Not that the witch would ever understand that. And he’d sound like a bloody ponce if he tried using that as an excuse. No, had to tell her something she’d actually believe.

“You said it yourself, Red,” he said. “Buffy’d think it bang out of order and stake me before I could take the first swallow. Not that shutting Harris up once and for all wouldn’t be fun, but it’s not goin’ to happen.”

There was a long moment where the only sound on the street was the dull roar of engines as they whizzed past the club, the occasional honk accenting the automobile chorus. The pair just stood there, staring at each other, neither sure of the other anymore, until, finally, Willow stepped back, letting her hand fall from the vampire’s chest. “Buffy’s called a Scooby meeting,” she said coldly. “She told me to come get you.”

For some reason, that pleased Spike, knowing that the Slayer was including him now on their meetings, as if what he had to contribute might be of some value. Just another way of her showing how she feels, he thought. Even if she hasn’t said the words yet.

“Lemme just tell Gino I’m goin’ to take a break,” he said, starting to pass the young witch, only to be stopped by her hand on his arm again.

“You have to tell Buffy, you know that, don’t you?” She watched him appraising her, and when he didn’t respond, she added, “If you don’t, I will.”

Shrugging away her grasp, Spike stuffed his hands into his pockets and sauntered inside, whistling quietly under his breath. Willow sighed. Not good, she thought sadly. Things are most definitely not of the good.

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

Buffy couldn’t help brightening when the dressing room door opened and Spike came strolling in, lips pressed together as some indiscriminate humming emerged from his throat. “Took you long enough,” she said, smiling, and edged over on the table, making enough room so that he could sit down beside her.

He hesitated only for a fraction of a second before settling himself next to her, his thigh pressing into hers through the voluminous skirts of her dress. “Had some business to take care of,” he replied, unable to suppress his grin when she laced her fingers through his. She seemed to be ignoring the sudden frowns that clouded Rupert’s and Harris’ faces, and frankly, Spike was chuffed to bits. Let ‘em stew, he thought. Bugger cares what they think anyway.

When Willow slipped inside just seconds later, she kept her gaze away from Spike, sitting herself on a stool near the doorway. “We’ve only got a few minutes,” she warned. “Mr. Lombardi’s in the middle of something sticky, and I don’t think he’s going to be too happy if he finds all of us back here.”

“Right then,” said Giles, rising to his feet as he cleared his throat. “We’ve found out there’s a way to reverse the portal so that we can all get back to Sunnydale.”

“What portal?” asked Buffy. “The painting?”

“Yes. It’s actually a conduit between our dimension and this one, used by demons for rather unsavoury purposes. Normally, it doesn’t allow travel backwards, but we discovered the method to change that.”

“So what’re we talking here? Spell? Ritual? Human sacrifice?”

“Actually, human sacrifice is very close to the truth, Buffy.” The Watcher took off his glasses and began cleaning them abstractly. “Someone within this milieu has been chosen---literally marked---so that in the event one wanted to return to our world, his or her sacrifice would open the channel to allow that. Our job now is to find that person.”

“So you don’t know who it is…” Buffy bit her lip, suddenly lost in thought. “I bet I could find out. Right now probably.” At her mentor’s puzzled frown, she elaborated. “There’s another guy here, says he’s from LA. But he just knows way too much stuff about this place not to know more than what he originally said. I mean, he wasn’t surprised at all when Spike got shot, or when we told him about the scorpion---.”

“Wait a minute. Back up.” Xander cocked his head. “Someone took a shot at Spike? And I wasn’t around to see it?”

Ignoring the comment, the Slayer looked at the blond vampire at her side. “What do you think? Feel up to scaring Tony a little bit?”

His mouth curled into a wicked smile. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

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

As soon as the door closed behind Spike and Buffy, Xander jumped to his feet. “OK, what the hell is going on here?” he demanded. “Since when are they all Crockett and Tubbs? And the touching thing? That’s just seven kinds of wrong.”

Willow bit her lip. “You forget, until I showed up, it was just the two of them. A lot’s happened.” No way was she going to go into this now, not with both Giles and Xander looking like they wanted to personally dismember the blond vampire. OK, so she was ready to stand in that line right now, too, but it still wasn’t her place to say anything. Buffy could be the one to face the wrath of the Watcher. Just one more bonus in being Chosen.

“Someone told me…Spike and Buffy were…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say the words. When that Lombardi fellow had casually referenced their engagement, Giles had felt a sudden sense of panic, a return to those feelings when Willow had done her unfortunate spell. And now, seeing them like this…He, himself, didn’t feel as if he were under the influence of magic, and Xander and Willow certainly seemed normal…well, as normal as could be expected…so what possible excuse could Buffy have for acting the way she was toward the chipped vampire?

“Yep, they are,” the young witch confirmed.

“Are…what? What am I missing here?” asked Xander.

“Engaged,” Giles murmured, as he sank back down into his seat.

“Again?” His incredulity almost sent echoes throughout the room. “What is it with those two and getting married?”

“I really…don’t…want to know,” said the Watcher, and carefully replaced his glasses. “Really.”

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

“He knows we’re on to him,” Buffy said as they made their way back to the dressing room. “That’s got to be the only reason he skipped out of work tonight.”

Spike shrugged. “Can’t say that I blame him,” he said. “If I’d had the choice, I’d’ve stayed home tonight, too.”

The young woman smiled, stopping just outside the door. “You know,” she murmured, “I’ve been dying to find out what that swing is for---.”

“Spike!”

Lombardi’s voice boomed through the hall, and the vampire’s head dropped. Shit. Here came the other shoe. “Go on and tell the others,” he said to Buffy. “I’ll take care of this.” He watched her slender form disappear into the dressing room before tilting his head to look at his boss’ stampeding approach. “Don’t even start,” he warned.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Lombardi barked. “You’re specifically looking for a Chicago overcoat, aren’t you? You know he’s in the hospital. Fucking unconscious, probably a coma, knowing my luck.”

“Bastard tried paying me to stop seein’ Buffy! What the hell do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to keep your trap shut and let me deal with it. I told Buffy to just play along with Mack until I got him smoothed over about you two. I just expected you’d have better sense than to clock him, especially right in front of his own joint.”

“Nobody tells me what to do,” Spike menaced. “Certainly not some blighter with piss poor timing. He had it comin’ to him, and I’d do it again without blinkin’ an eyelash.”

Lombardi sighed. “I fucking hate this,” he muttered. “You know I gotta let you go, don’t you? No way can I let you stay on without Mack saying it’s jake. You’re just lucky the coppers aren’t going to get involved.” He shook his head. “Just get your stuff and go home, Spike. Make it easy for both of us. And when Buffy gets off work tonight, you just better appreciate her for what she’s costing you. ‘Cause things are going to get real cold around here for both of you until Mack’s OK.”

The blond vampire just stood there for a moment, coolly appraising the older man before shrugging. “Tell Gino to keep an eye on the guy in the bowler at the bar,” he said as he walked away. “He’s just dying for trouble tonight.”

Lombardi watched as the bouncer disappeared out the back door, the sinking feeling he’d had since finding out about the fight plummeting even further. How the hell am I going to replace someone as good as Spike? he wondered. His thoughts were interrupted when the dressing room door opened, and Xander Harris came wandering out, Buffy right on his tail. “I was just coming to look for you,” Lombardi said to the young man.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Mack’s in the hospital. You should probably get down there and make sure he gets all checked out.”

Buffy frowned, pushing her way ahead of her friend, standing with folded arms before her boss. “What happened?” she queried.

Lombardi snorted. “What happened?” he echoed. “Your boyfriend is what happened. Spike beat the crap out of Mack, left him unconscious in front of the club.”

He turned back to Xander. “He’s at St. Mary’s. The car’s out front to take you there.”

As the older man walked away, Buffy felt the vise tighten around her chest, squeezing as it tried to suck away her air, her head beginning to pound as the newfound knowledge stole away her breath. Spike…fighting…it wasn’t…possible? But Lombardi said it was, said the proof was lying in some hospital bed, that Spike had been the cause. If that was true---why would he lie?---then that only meant one thing, and that one thing was tunnelling her world, undercutting the tenuous foundation she’d been beginning to lay…

…If Spike could fight, that meant he could now…

….kill…

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

She stumbled over the easel that lay on the floor, swearing under her breath as she did so. This was certainly not someplace she’d ever thought she’d be seeing again, but desperation and lack of options had really left her no other choice. Stupid Tony, she thought. I’m going to kill him when I see him again.

Peering into the darkness, Melinda wondered again just how he managed to get any work done. I can’t see anything, she grumbled. I sure as hell don’t see how he can. When the light came on from nowhere, the vampire found herself temporarily blinded, blinking rapidly to try and get rid of the spots that now danced before her eyes, frozen in her place as she tried to figure out where exactly she was standing.

“Somehow, I had a feeling you were going to be showing up.” H’roven’s voice was almost a cackle, and she heard the soft pinging of his spines as he moved around inside the tiny room.

“Oh? ‘Cause you missed my sparkling personality?” She paused. “Wait a minute. What did you just say?”

“I figured it was just a matter of time before you came to me,” the demon said. “You know, you should really take better care of your things. Especially things that cost as much as my paintings.”

Melinda’s heart jumped. “You know something,” she rushed. “Tell me you know something.”

“I know lots of things. But I’m going to bet what you’re interested in, is the location of your picture. Am I right?”

“You know where it is?”

He laughed, a brittle sound that seemed to break as soon as it hit the air. “Honey, not only do I know where it is, but I so desperately want you to get it back, that I’m going to tell you…free of charge…”

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

She hesitated, one hand over the door knob, the other clutching the stake she’d crudely fashioned in the dressing room back at the club. Her bones ached, not from physical exertion but from the barrage of doubts and fears that had attacked her body ever since she’d discovered what Spike had done, and the sense that she was somehow watching from outside herself, that this was all part of some crazy nightmare, was overwhelming. Everything had been so good…Spike had told her he loved her, saving her from an unrequited disaster of a relationship…no life and death decisions to be made…even the promise that she wouldn’t be alone anymore, that he would stay, no matter what. Now, it was crashing down around her ears, broken rubble tearing at her flesh, trying to destroy what semblance of happiness she’d even considered having.

Only one thing was making this any easier for Buffy. In spite of their vociferous objections to the contrary, the Slayer had refused to let anyone else accompany her back to the apartment, blocking out their arguments that if Spike was in fact dangerous, she was going to need all the help she could get. Giles in particular had been adamant about leaving her to her own defenses, and it wasn’t until she threatened to tie them all up and leave them in the dressing room for Lombardi to find, did they back down. Of course, she couldn’t look any of them in the eye, shame at how foolish she’d allowed herself to be coloring her face in hues she was unable to hide; it wasn’t until she was in the hallway that she could even let the impending tears fall down her cheeks.

When Willow had come rushing after her, Buffy had wiped away the wet tracks, turning to face her friend with grim determination. “Not that it will make any difference,” the redhead had said, “but Spike had a really good reason to go after Mack. And even though he could’ve and really wanted to, he did deliberately choose not to kill him.”

She didn’t let on otherwise, but as the Slayer stepped away from the young witch, she felt the first flicker of hope begin burning in her gut. It did make a difference---a small one---and maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to kill another man she loved after all.

Tentatively, Buffy pushed open the door of the apartment, not even sure if Spike was going to be inside or not, her stake poised and ready just in case. Please don’t make me use this, she begged silently, hazel eyes sweeping over the darkened room, peering into the shadowed corners, hunting for something---anything---out of the ordinary. She didn’t know what she was expecting, wasn’t even sure if the vampire would even be here, but the stillness that greeted her was disconcerting, a mockery of the intimacy it had sheltered only a few hours before, and the young woman felt her heart sink even lower.

“Spike?” she called out. Was she expecting a response? Did she really think he’d just jump out of the shadows and announce his presence? She was sure of nothing anymore, and wouldn’t be until she could talk to him.

The door to her bedroom stood open, lending the lounge the only bit of illumination it had, and Buffy tilted her head, a tiny line etching itself between her brows. Although it was moonlight and not coming from artificial means, she could’ve sworn she’d drawn the curtains before they’d left for the club earlier. That meant…

Her feet carried her to the doorway, the stake hanging loosely at her side. Inside her chest, her heart was pounding against her ribcage, threatening to break free and go skittering across the floor, and she inhaled deeply to try and steady her last remaining nerve. It had been a long time since she’d been this anxious about an encounter with a vampire, and the fact that it was Spike…only made it worse.

He stood before the window, forehead leaning against the glass, forearm pressed to the pane over his head, staring out at the twinkling lights of the city. The muscles on his bare back stood out in chiaroscuro relief, the pale luminance of the night sky causing his skin to glow as if from some inner light. Her heart leapt at his icy beauty, while at the same time sinking, the encroaching reality too raw, too near.

There was no tension in his body, no fear, and when he spoke, the hypnotic rumble of his voice seemed surprisingly serene. “Been a long time since I’ve lived in a place like this,” he said. “Dru always had a taste for the exotic. This would’ve been too mundane for her.”

“When were you going to tell me?” Buffy’s tone matched his as she struggled to keep it steady.

He didn’t even look at her, his sapphire gaze drinking in the skyline. “Does it even matter now?” She saw the corner of his mouth lift. Was he actually smiling? “I think it’s something to do with bein’ up so high. Really gives a bloke perspective.”

“Tell me what happened.” It was all she could do to hold back the “please” she so desperately wanted to add.

“I’d say that’s pointless since you’re here to stake me anyway.”

Buffy looked down at the weapon in her hand. He hadn’t even looked around, had known without needing to, yet acted as if it didn’t matter…totally at ease…resigned. Her thin fingers loosened around the wood, hesitated, and then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed the stake onto the bed, far enough away so that neither of them could get to it easily. “Tell me what happened,” she repeated.

It was only then that he moved, straightening with that feline grace that so mesmerized her. The moonlight caught the platinum curls of his hair as he tilted his head, turning it to gaze at her, eyes fathomless as he stood there in silence, drinking her in just as intensely as he’d just been watching the city. The Slayer felt the familiar tingle of electricity down her spine, and mentally chided herself. Keep it together, she thought. You’re not out of the woods yet.

“He tried buying you,” he said. “Offered me cash on the spot to back off.”

“So you beat him up.”

“Show me a bloke who’d’ve taken the dosh, and I’ll show you a prat who doesn’t know what love really is.” The vampire started to take a step toward her, then stopped, shoving his hands deep into his pockets instead. “It was instinct, Buffy. That’s all.”

“It shouldn’t have been anything,” the young woman argued, her tone hardening ever so slightly. “That’s the purpose of the pain chip, remember?”

He couldn’t help the grin. “Well, guess that’s just a bonus for me, huh?”

“No! Not a bonus! This isn’t a good thing, Spike, and standing there laughing about it is not instilling me with confidence here.” She folded her arms across her chest, suddenly cold. “When did you know it didn’t work anymore?”

“Only when Red turned green around the gills, and let me say, not her best color.” He sighed. “How much of the third degree are we going to do tonight, luv? ‘Cause gotta say, it’s startin’ to lose its appeal.”

“Spike, as long as we’re still talking, you’re still alive. Or dead, or undead, rather.” God, she hated the semantics of it.

“Whaddaya want me to say? I wanted to kill him. I didn’t. End of story.”

“What about killing in general?” she pressed. “How do you feel about that now, knowing you can do it? For that matter, why aren’t you out there right now sucking the populace dry? Why bother coming back here at all?” The Slayer’s anger was starting to rise, her frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface, unable to stay contained in that tight little box she kept locked up deep in her gut. He was being so casual about this, like it didn’t make any difference, like what he’d done had been the most natural thing in the world. OK, yeah, at least now she knew the why of it, and part of her---a really small, non-feminist part---actually thrilled knowing there was someone who’d react in that kind of way just for her. But that didn’t make it right, and it didn’t make him safe, and it sure as hell didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

For the first time since she’d arrived, Spike looked annoyed, rolling his eyes. “That has got to be the stupidest bloody question you could’ve asked,” he said wryly.

“Oh, really?” She was shocked at his response, and, OK, very slightly amused. Leave it to Spike to throw her for a loop. “And what makes it so stupid, oh blond and annoying one?”

The first use of her casual sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed, but the vampire didn’t let the fact that he noticed it register in his sculpted features. “You are either the most thick-headed bint I’ve ever known, or you’ve got the worst short-term memory this side of Sunnydale.” He shook his head. “A few hours, and you forget everything I said to you. Isn’t that just peachy. I said I wouldn’t leave, luv, and I meant it. Not that it seemed to make an impression on you, from the looks of it.”

Buffy frowned. She couldn’t let him do that, not now, not when lives were at stake. “Just words, Spike. They’re just words. Your actions speak a helluva lot louder.”

He had closed the distance between them before she could blink, strong hands gripping her upper arms, and as much as she wanted to yank herself free, she felt frozen, locked under that impassioned blue gaze, caged within the tide of the anger that was now rolling off the vampire’s nude torso. “Just words?” he growled. “I’ll give you just words.” His nostrils flared. “Action. I defended the honor of the woman I love. Not. Wrong.” The vampire’s eyes danced with errant fury. “Action. After getting fired for doing the right thing, I came home to wait for that same woman, because that’s what I’d promised her always to do. Again…Not. Wrong.” His gaze sank to the tremor in Buffy’s bottom lip, transfixed by its delicate curve. “Action. I deliberately left myself open to let you stake me ‘cause I knew you had to feel safe. So, you tell me. Was that wrong?”

“Safe?” She wrenched herself from his grasp. “You’re a killer, Spike. You expect me to feel safe around you, knowing that any minute you could turn around and attack me?”

“Not that hard, Slayer. I’ve done it every second since I realized I loved you.” When his hands reached up to grab her again, Buffy’s reaction was automatic, one arm knocking them away while her other fist connected with his abdomen. He grunted in surprise from the contact, and before he could think, the vampire’s leg shot out, foot extended as his heel crashed into her knee.

The pain was excruciating, crushing against his skull, and Spike grabbed his head as the young woman collapsed to the floor. She watched in horrified fascination as he grabbed the edge of the bed, a stream of English curses filling the air. He was either the world’s best actor, or…

And relief coursed like a painkiller, numbing her from the worry, and doubt, and fear, acting like a shot of morphine direct to her soul. She’d never been so happy to see someone in such pain, and the irony of that started off a series of giggles that quickly overwhelmed the Slayer, choking her breath as she struggled to her feet.

“I’m glad you find it so fuckin’ amusin’,” Spike growled, giving his head one last shake before straightening. “Think I’ll set myself on fire for an encore.”

Buffy fought for air, wiping at the tears that seeped from her eyes. “It’s…a joke…this whole…painting…”

The vampire’s eyes narrowed, waiting for her to regain enough composure to actually make sense. She better not be saying what I think she’s saying, he thought.

“It’s playing with your chip,” she continued. “And playing with your head. Letting you hurt people from this world, but not from ours.” Her face visibly softened. “Once we get back to Sunnydale, everything will go back to normal again.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” he muttered.

“Do you want me to stake you? Because I’m thinking, you’re acting like it’s a big fat yes.” She frowned, puzzled. “You have no idea how I felt when I found out about Mack, do you?”

“Got a pretty good idea,” he murmured. “I knew Angelus, too, remember?” He took a step closer. “But I’m not him, and the sooner you realize it, the happier both of us are goin’ to be.” He had already forgotten the pain, realizing now that he had her, had gained the stay of execution he didn’t think he was going to get.

“You have to play nice until we get out of here,” Buffy intoned, eyes glued to his advancing form. “I have to be able to promise Giles that there won’t be any funny I–got-bit-by-my-puppy injuries showing up.” Her breath caught in her throat as his hand reached up, fingertips skating down the side of her neck, tracing the line of her collarbone.

“If I recall correctly,” he said, head leaning in so that his lips could follow the same path, “you like it when I’m not nice.”

“Don’t…change the subject…” she gasped, her skin suddenly aflame.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” and his mouth found its favorite pulsepoint, sucking at it gently.

“I’m serious, Spike.” With more will than she thought she possessed, Buffy grabbed his platinum curls and pulled his head away, holding him at arm’s length to stare up into his face. “The last thing I want to do is kill you. God, do you have any idea how badly I needed you to talk me out of it when I walked in here? But we’ve got to lay some rules, and the second you break them, I’ll do it. I did it to Angel. I’ll do it to you. Understand?”

He just looked at her for a long second, his cerulean gaze thoughtful, lips slightly pursed. “I thought not havin’ the chip work meant freedom,” he finally said. “’Twasn’t ‘til I was on my way back here that I realized that that meant bugger all if I didn’t have you.”

In spite of her resolve, she smiled. “Spike, you are the only person I know who can use the word bugger in a sentence and still make it sound romantic.”

“All part and parcel of the Big Bad package, luv.”

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

Willow was wiping the last of the make-up off her face when there was a knock at the dressing room door. “Come in!” she called, reaching for another tissue.

His bulk loomed in the entrance, and the young witch couldn’t help her smile as she caught him in the mirror. God, I am so glad my boyfriend has a reflection, she thought, and then blushed as she realized how she’d just referred to Gino. Not my boyfriend, she hastened to remind herself. Just a nice guy who happens to like me, who I spent a good part of this morning kissing, who I really like, who…OK, who am I kidding? Boyfriend.

“You want a ride home?” he asked.

Home. That meant her apartment with Lola. Not Buffy’s. Which was too bad because she was dying to find out what had happened there, if her friend had actually staked Spike or not. “That’d be great,” she replied.

“Can we…talk for a minute first?” His black eyes darted around the room, wondering if they were alone.

Something about the seriousness of his tone stole the smile from Willow’s face, and she pushed the empty chair at her side closer to him. “What’s wrong?” she asked as he straddled the seat.

“A lot of stuff’s come down tonight,” he said, eyes fixed on his fingernails. “And you know I’m not good with the brain business, so I need some straight answers from you. As my…friend.” He wanted to say more but the nerve failed him. Better safe than sorry.

“Whatever you want.”

He cleared his throat. “You know Mack’s in the hospital.” The redhead nodded. “You gotta know…I think Spike did right. And if it’d been me, and someone tried to pay me off, I’d’ve done the exact same thing.” He held up his hand to hold off her speaking. “I know you think I’m old-fashioned that way, but what Mack did…it’s not right. He may be the boss, but he’s still a wrong number, and nothing you’re going to say to me is going to convince me Spike did something wrong.”

There was a long pause while Willow waited to see if he was going to add anything further. It was obvious that he’d been practicing his words, and she could see how hard this was for him. The last thing she wanted to do was make it worse. “You know, if I hadn’t been there to stop him, he would’ve killed Mack,” she said softly. “You think that’s right?”

“I…think…Spike would do anything for Buffy. They just got that kind of love, you know? And I could see how he could get pushed far enough to do…that.” Gino stopped, finally looking up at the young woman opposite him. “Spike and I got lots in common. And just because we both work with our fists and not our heads, that don’t mean we’re not men of honor. And I gotta make sure you see that, ‘cause I don’t want you thinking I’m just some dumb mug who doesn’t know right from wrong.”

“I don’t---.”

“Wait a sec. I’m not done.” He took a deep breath, running his thick fingers through his dark hair. “I know I’m not as smart as Harris, or got as much dough, or even talk as good, but I do know I’m a better man. And I want to know why, after what he did to you---after how he hurt you---I get stuck at the door while he gets to come on back whenever he wants.” The bouncer exhaled loudly, the relief that he’d actually managed to get it all out washing over him like a hot shower. It had been eating at him all night, especially after he’d seen her laughing and joking with Harris at the bar. Before this morning, he would’ve just taken the hurt home and drunk it away in a bottle of bourbon, but now, with that small flame of hope she’d given him---you’re my guy, she had said---he needed to get it out.

Willow reached forward, setting her hand on his leg as if the physical contact would somehow ease her guilt. This had nothing to do with Spike, or Buffy, or what had happened; this was about Xander, and about some history she knew nothing about, and about a gentle giant’s deep-seated feelings. “I’m just going to have to be apology girl for a while,” she said with a small smile. “Because you have no idea how sorry I am for making you feel this way.”

His hand inched downward, hesitating, jerking to a stop before starting again, finally coming to rest on hers, engulfing it as his thumb stroked the side of her tiny wrist. “And which way would that be?” he asked quietly. “The feeling of making me feel bad, or, you know…the other? Because if you’re not happy about me, I can always back off. You just gotta say the word, and we can go back to the way things were before. Last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable about me…” His voice trailed off, unable to say the words, but both of them seeing them anyway, hanging in the air between them…loving you.

“Oh, no,” Willow rushed. “I’m happy about it. Honestly.” And, for some inexplicable reason, she was. In spite of what she knew now about the painting, and in spite of how part of her was actually dreading going back to Sunnydale, the young witch was over the moon about Gino and the relationship she had struck up with him. I never realized just how much I needed someone to want me, she thought. Or how great it would be to want someone else just as much.

“And Harris?”

“Won’t happen again,” she vowed, and in that very second, meant every word of it.

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

She knew she was going to have to get up soon and draw the curtains, but nestled between the warm sheets of her bed, Buffy could only stare out the window, watching the sky’s colors begin to shift, lightening in hues no man could recreate. Things still weren’t completely of the good, and she wasn’t so blind that she didn’t see that. Somehow, she was going to have to convince the others that Spike wasn’t a real threat, which meant making their relationship very clear to the gang, using words that Giles was probably going to hate, like love…and trust…and understanding. It wasn’t going to be pretty, but it was necessary, and would have to happen as soon as possible. It was the only way they’d be able to work as a team to find the safety that would get them home.

Although both of their bodies had been more than willing, Slayer and vampire had tacitly agreed not to make love as they climbed into bed, choosing instead to curl against each other’s naked bodies, molding themselves together as if in doing so, they could drive away all the events of the past few hours. It frightened her how easily she had given in to believing him, trusting his arguments, needing to hear him say them. But he’d been right, on so many levels, and it was time Buffy started actually hearing what he had to say, trusting in her instincts. That was supposed to be part of the whole Slayer package, right? Intuition about good and evil and all that crap? All along, she’d been listening to reason, or to Giles, or to what everyone else deemed good and proper, and outside of actual slayage, ignored those gut feelings in dealing with emotions, or relationships. Well, from now on, she vowed silently, that’s officially stopping. I’m the Slayer. If I can’t trust my own instincts, what can I trust?

*************
 

The sticky silence wrapped them in discomfort, clinging to their skin as frowns and worried brows abounded. Her eyes darted to each of them, wishing that they would just look at her, meet her gaze for a fraction of a millisecond, stop making her feel like a one-legged albino midget in a travelling circus. She didn’t know what was going through Spike’s head, but from her seat on the floor between his legs, Buffy didn’t want to make herself look even weaker in the eyes of her friends by looking back to the blond vampire for support.

Giles was the first to speak. “What…rules?” he queried, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as if to stem a headache behind his eyes.

“Just your basic stuff,” the Slayer replied. “No killing, no biting, no fighting.”

“Except for self-defense,” Spike interrupted.

“Right,” Buffy agreed. “Except for self-defense, or in the case of an emergency.”

“And just who gets to decide what constitutes an emergency?” asked Xander. “I assume we’re talking 911 stuff, not…oh-I-think-I’m-in-the-mood-for-a-bloodshake stuff.”

“I will,” the young blonde stressed. “But it’s not going to come to that. Spike’s promised---.” Giles’ audible snort cut her off, and she felt her anger begin to bubble again, only the feather touch of the vampire’s fingers in her hair keeping her from jumping to her feet. “Look,” she said, probably too loud but at that point she didn’t care, “this isn’t going to be a debate here. Them’s the facts and if you don’t like them, tough. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I know what I’m doing is right here. If you don’t like it, there’s the door.” She waited, half-holding her breath, unsure as to whether anyone would actually take her up on her ultimatum. It was the last thing she really wanted, but if they were going to refuse to acknowledge that Spike was going to be a valid part of the gang now, that was their problem, not hers. And, maybe, if she thought that often enough, she might actually believe it.

No one moved, each just looking around guiltily at the others, avoiding any direct contact with the blond pair at the chair. Finally, Giles cleared his throat. “We really must start formulating a strategy on finding out who the safety really is,” he said, his voice cool and detached, the sudden change in subject his only way of acceding to Buffy’s control.

The Slayer’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and she exhaled softly. Not the handholding show of support she would’ve wanted, but nobody had left so that was definitely of the good. They would come around, she just knew it; it was only a matter of time. Shoot, Willow was halfway there already, what with her little advice session with Spike. “I still think Tony’s are best bet,” Buffy said, settling down into the mode she knew best. “He knows something. I’m sure of it.”

“Bugger says everyone who comes through has these little accidents,” the vampire volunteered. When the blonde between his legs turned to stare at him, a quizzical frown in her eyes, he shrugged. “We had us a little chat.”

“And you were going to tell me about this…when?”

“Well, as soon as it came up again,” Spike replied. No need to let her know he’d gone out for a little walk without her, better to just keep it vague about when he’d actually found his information out. “There was this whole me gettin’ shot thing that kind of happened in the middle there, luv.”

“Well, that would certainly hold true with what we learned about the purpose of the painting,” Giles mused.

“What else did he tell you?” Buffy asked.

“That his girlfriend’s a vampire, some bird named Melinda---.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Xander. “That’s who that H’whatsit guy said owned the picture.”

“So it probably wasn’t an accident he came through,” Willow offered. “Maybe she meant it for him.”

Buffy frowned. “I don’t think so. He seemed way too calm about being here.”

“I got the impression he was hoofin’ it,” Spike said. “Wasn’t too happy to be talkin’ about his girl back home.”

“So, plan is, we get Tony and find out what he knows.” The Slayer looked around at the small group in her living room. “He’s not going to talk to me or Spike, not if he was ducking out of work just to avoid us. So that leaves Willow, Giles and Xander to go to his apartment and see what they can find out.”

The redhead slowly raised her hand. “Ummm…I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Buffy couldn’t hold back the surprise in her voice. “Why not?”

“I…have a date.”

“A date. With…oh…” Realization dawned on the blonde woman’s face, followed very quickly by a small frown.

“Besides,” Willow rushed to add, “Tony probably already knows that I’m not from here. Wasn’t he one of the musicians I fell on when that guy pinched my ass?”

Xander’s eyebrows shot up. “How much have we actually missed here?” he said. “’Cause these sound like sharing stories to me.”

“You’re right,” Buffy agreed, ignoring her friend’s comment. “So just Giles and Xander then.” She rose to her feet. “I’ll call around and chat up some of the other girls, see what I can find out from them. Then Spike can take over when I go into work.”

“The joys of unemployment,” the vampire drawled, and watched as the others joined Buffy in standing. Not too bad, he thought. Could’ve actually gone a lot worse. Probably got softened up by Red’s spell. Not that he really cared what they thought, but they were part of the Slayer package so Spike knew he was going to have to play nice…for her sake.

As Buffy and Willow disappeared into the kitchen, Giles quickly strode over to the blond vamp’s chair and leaned over, his spectacled face only inches from Spike’s, long hands gripping the sides of the arm until his knuckles were white. “One more rule,” he murmured, his voice deadly. “If Buffy gets hurt in any way and I find out you were responsible, I will personally see to it that that undead heart of yours gets spooned out of your chest with a number two pencil. Do you understand?” He didn’t wait for a response, just blazed at him with lethal eyes, and straightened, marching to the front door of the apartment, Xander at his heels.

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

“So what’re you two doing?” Buffy asked as she reached for a mug in the cupboard.

“I dunno,” Willow admitted. “Gino wouldn’t tell me. I hope it’s something inside, though, the way it’s coming down in buckets out there.”

The Slayer’s eyes were thoughtful as she poured the contents of the saucepan into the cup. “I know this is going to sound mom-ish, and don’t get me wrong, I think Gino’s a great guy, and normally I’d be all, go Willow, but…” She glanced back at the redhead. “You’re not getting in over your head here, are you? I mean, when we go home, he’s going to still be here. You OK with that?”

The young witch smiled, just a tad too widely, a tad too casually. “Sure,” she chirped. “Gino and I are just having a few laughs. That’s all.”

“Spike told me about…the kissage. Sounded like more than just a giggle.”

“Oh, that.” Willow waved it away with a flick of her wrist. “He’s cute, I was drunk, and he likes me. Aren’t I allowed to have a little fun?”

Buffy frowned. This didn’t sound like her best friend; this sounded like someone her best friend was trying to be. “Fun, yes, but I think you’re setting yourself up for getting hurt again---.”

“If memory serves, you were the one who invited him over here in the first place. And besides, weren’t you guys telling me to snap out of it? Well…I’m snapped now. Think of Gino as my rebound guy if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Except you’re not really a rebound kind of gal, Will.”

“I’ll be fine. Trust me. Now stop worrying about it and get that out to Spike before it gets cold and we have to listen to him whine about it all afternoon.” The young witch held her smile as Buffy glanced at her one more time, hesitating in the doorway before leaving the kitchen. Once she was alone, it faded, and Willow bit her lip, the line returning between her brows. She hated lying to her best friend, but no way could she admit how deeply she’d fallen for the dark-haired bouncer already. The thought of leaving him behind was already starting to eat at her, giving her strange and restless dreams that only confused her even further, and frankly, she wasn’t sure what was going to happen. All she knew was that when Gino had asked her out for this afternoon, her heart had leapt at the option, making refusal entirely impossible. It had been all she’d thought about all day, and even finding out the whole story about Spike and Buffy hadn’t been enough to distract her from her daydreams. And right now, she wasn’t going to let anyone else spoil it for her.

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

The apartment was silent after everyone had gone, the only sound the occasional slurp as Spike sipped at his mug of blood. It was going to take him forever to finish it at this rate; he didn’t have the heart to tell Buffy she’d scorched it, making the already not favorite taste even worse. At least she tried, he thought. Gotta count for something. Maybe some biscuits might take some of the edge off…

“You think they get it?” she asked from where she was lying on the couch. She’d been staring up at the ceiling ever since they’d left, mulling over everything she’d said, wondering if maybe she could have made it any easier for them.

“’Course not,” Spike replied. “But they will. Just give ‘em some time to get used to the idea.” No way was he going to bring up the Watcher’s warning; Buffy didn’t need anything more to worry about.

She rolled over onto her side, propping her head up on her hand to look at him. “They think I’m under a spell, you know.”

“That would be called the Spike spell, luv.” He couldn’t help the wicked grin that creased his face, and ducked his head as she threw the pillow at him, missing contact by mere millimeters.

“I think Willow’s headed for some heartache,” she said, changing the subject. “I think she’s in over her head, but she won’t admit it.”

“She probably thinks the same about you,” he countered.

“But at least you get to come home with me,” Buffy argued. “What about Gino? What happens when she’s got to say goodbye to him? I mean, Oz leaving wasn’t that long ago and look how broken she got about that. It’s just…too soon, don’t you think?”

Setting down his mug, Spike rose from his seat and crossed to her side, kneeling at the edge of the couch so that he could push the hair back away from her face. “Maybe it’s exactly what she needs right now,” he soothed. “Gino’s a good guy. He’s not goin’ to hurt her and she knows that. I think if I were her, I’d be jumpin’ through hoops just to be around someone who loved me as much as he does.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” she murmured, suddenly lost in the hypnotic rhythm of the vampire’s touch. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed, a gentle exhalation that released her pent-up energies with a single breath. “I’m really not in the mood for research,” she moaned, her bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly.

With her lids down, Buffy didn’t see the gleam suddenly appear in Spike’s azure gaze, the slight tilt of his head as his tongue ran over his teeth. “Bet I could think of somethin’ else to do…” he taunted, and slowly skated his hand down the side of her neck.

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

Though the wipers were working overtime, Willow could only barely see the outline of the building that loomed in front of them, a murky shape that seemed to stretch itself along the block as if it were being laid to rest. At her side, Gino killed the engine, the jingle of the keys suddenly seeming too loud in the confines of the car.

“How much longer are you going to keep me guessing?” she asked, peering out the window.

“We’re here. This is it.”

“And this is…?”

“The new planetarium.” When her green eyes turned to stare at the bouncer, he smiled shyly. “Seemed like your kinda joint.”

“It is. Thank you.” She wasn’t sure why she was surprised; sometimes, Gino seemed to know more about her than anyone else she knew. “But…are you going to like it? I don’t want to do something if you’re not going to have fun.”

Gino shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve ever really had the opportunity,” he said. “I mean, I know from nothing about the stars and such, but the way I figure it, who better to teach me than the smartest person I know?”

Willow blushed. “You’re sure you want that?” she teased. “Because once you get me started on learning, there’s no holding me back.”

“Positive. Besides, I heard there’s a room in there where they turn the lights off, and you just lay back, and they show all these stars on the ceiling, like you were actually outside and everything. Working nights means you don’t really get that many chances to do any real star-gazing, so we should probably grab it where we can, you know?” His black eyes glanced at her, ducking his head when he saw her watching him. “You just wait there. I’ll bring the umbrella around so you don’t get wet.”

As his body twisted in his seat to reach the umbrella in the rear of the car, Willow rested her hand on his forearm, halting his motion. Gino’s dark gaze jumped to her face, widening slightly as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He froze, his heart pounding in his chest, the heat in his body all of a sudden focusing itself on his groin. She’d never initiated a kiss before. Even that morning---what a morning---at Spike and Buffy’s, he’d been the one to start it all, guiding her along as their kisses turned from gentle to passionate, holding himself back when his need for the beautiful redhead seemed to overwhelm him. Now, though…

The bouncer’s hand came up and cupped the side of her face, pulling her in even closer as his lips parted, exploring the sweet depths of her mouth. He could almost hear the beating of her heart through his fingertips, and inwardly smiled. It was nice knowing she was excited as he was; it was kind of like…coming home.

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

Anya stood outside the door, her gaze jumping around, her foot tapping restlessly against the cobbled pathway. She didn’t even know why she was here. By all rights, she should be back at home, sitting by the phone, waiting for Xander to call and apologize for being such a bonehead. Except that’s exactly what she had been doing for the past two days, and her telephone hadn’t rung even once. Well, except for that telemarketer who had the misfortune of catching her just after she’d gotten home. That was one company that was going to think twice about calling her again.

Biting her lip, she reached up and rapped sharply at Giles’ door. Xander hadn’t been at home, or at his latest job, so that left only one other possibility…here. After a moment of silence, she knocked again. English people are supposed to be polite and answer their frickin’ doors, she thought irritably. C’mon, girl on the edge out here. When she knocked a third time, she knew, without having to even peek inside the window, that nobody would be coming. He could be out shopping, though, she rationalized. Only one way to find out…

Getting the spare key Giles always kept on hand, Anya glanced around before slipping it into the lock, slipping inside as if she were there to burgle the place and not just find her boyfriend. She locked the door behind her, waiting for a second as her eyes adjusted to the gloom of the darkened interior. “Giles?” she called out, but knew almost immediately that there wouldn’t be a response. The apartment was too dead, deserted by its inhabitants.

She went straight to where it rested on the desktop, switching on the table lamp to peer into the vibrant colors of the painting. It only took a second to find the Watcher in front of the orchestra, and only a few more to find a dapper Xander at the bar. Her lids fluttered shut and her head fell in resignation. “Crap,” she muttered…

 

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

The door of the dressing room flew open and Willow came rushing in, face flushed, eyes glistening. “I’m late, I’m sorry, my bad,” she breathed, dropping her bag onto the floor before collapsing in a nearby chair. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing yet,” Buffy said, taking in her friend’s dishevelled appearance. Yep, over her head. Big time. “Giles was just about to tell us what he and Xander found out at Tony’s.”

“Not much, I’m afraid,” the Watcher said, wiping the lenses of his glasses. “He’s a rather…slippery fellow.”

“Did you get anything?” the Slayer pressed.

“He confirmed what we already knew. Melinda owns the painting and yes, she is a vampire, but he claims to have come through it by accident. He says that that’s what he told Spike.” A wry smile twisted Giles’ lips. “He doesn’t seem to…like Spike very much.”

“Big surprise there,” Xander muttered.

Buffy ignored both of them. “And he didn’t know anything about the safety? Who it is? How we can recognize him?”

“No. Again, he claimed ignorance of how the painting actually works. I think that perhaps we should try a more…direct approach tomorrow.”

Xander leaned forward in his chair. “Tell them about the magic.”

The Slayer’s eyes widened. “Magic? What magic?”

“Well, we can’t be sure---.”

“You seemed pretty sure this afternoon,” Xander interrupted.

“I could be mistaken.” Giles slipped his glasses back on, frowning. “There was a distinct…odor in the air, and he was wearing what looked remarkably like a protection amulet.”

“So bugle boy knows a few tricks,” she mused. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

The Watcher shook his head. “I think he’s scared, frankly. I got the impression the amulet was to protect him from you. He’s quite frightened of you, Buffy.”

She couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. “Fear is good,” she stated. “That’ll make getting information from him easier.” Jumping to her feet, the Slayer began making shooing motions toward the door. “OK, meeting adjourned. Go to work, Giles, and Xander, go do…whatever it is you do. Will and I have to get dressed.” When neither of the two men moved, she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “That was me being polite about you leaving so that Willow and I can talk about boys.”

That did the trick. As soon as they were out the door, Buffy whirled to face her best friend. “OK, dish. Where’d you go? What’d you do? What happened? Details!”

“He took me to this planetarium, and it was amazing!” Willow rushed, the excitement of her afternoon coming through in her voice. “I never realized how far technology has come, or how jaded we’ve gotten about what we take for granted every time we look in the night sky. Did you know---?”

“Obviously, I didn’t make myself clear enough,” the blonde interrupted. “I want kissing boy details, not boring science details.”

The young witch smiled coyly. “What makes you think there was any kissing?”

“Well, that big ol’ hickey on your neck is a huge clue.”

“Ohmigod, where?” Willow whirled to look at herself in the mirror, pulling her collar aside to expose the red mark shining proudly from the curve of her neck. “Please tell me you have some make-up that will help cover this. Mr. Lombardi will kill me if he sees it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Buffy began digging through her bag. “So, was it fun?”

“You have no idea.” Her face softened. “Gino’s just not like any other guy I know. I mean, he’s so polite, and sweet, and he keeps saying he’s dumb but he’s not, not really. OK, maybe I do have to explain some things more than once to him, but he’s just so eager to learn, and have I mentioned what a great kisser he is? And those muscles…” Her voice trailed off as Buffy just gazed at her. “What? What is it?”

“Still going to say you’re not in over your head?” the Slayer asked gently.

Willow bit her lip. “Guess I’m bounding with just a little too much enthusiasm here, huh?”

“Just a tad.”

She sighed. “It’s a good thing Giles isn’t seeing this. I’d probably get lectured.”

“On what?”

“I dunno,” Willow shrugged. “I’m sure he’d think of something.”

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

Nothing was going to shatter his good mood tonight. The planetarium idea had come off better than he’d hoped, the joy in Willow’s eyes illuminating her from within as she’d dragged him from display to display, chattering away the entire time. When they’d finally hit the auditorium with the overhead projection of the night sky, she hadn’t even hesitated to curl herself into his shoulder, making that little sigh of delight he was coming to know so well, her hand playing over his thigh. More than once, Gino had been afraid that she would stray too high and discover the arousal he couldn’t hide, but then again, a small part of him had almost hoped she would. He blushed just thinking about it.

The familiar presence at his elbow caused the bouncer to glance down, mostly out of habit. “Hey, Spike,” he said automatically, and had turned back to face the crowd before he realized what he’d said. His wide black eyes jerked back to stare down at the suited blond. “Spike! What’re you doin’ here? In case you’ve forgotten, Mr. Lombardi fired you last night, remember?”

The vampire chuckled and patted Gino’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m not here to work.” His azure gaze began scanning the women around the room. “Tonight, I’m a paying customer.”

“What about Mack?”

“Bastard’s still out cold in the hospital. He’ll never know I was here.”

“But his boys are here,” the dark-haired bouncer said, nodding toward the bar.

Spike glanced over at the two men sipping their drinks and shrugged. “Harris won’t touch me,” he said simply. “And if Harris won’t, neither will the other guy.” Out of the corner of his eye, he looked up at his ex-partner. “So, I hear tell you and Red had yourselves a little date this afternoon. And, since you’ve got a bigger smile than the Cheshire cat, I’m goin’ to say it went pretty well. Am I right?”

Gino laughed. “It went so well, I’m not even going to give you hell for calling her Red again, and not Willow.”

The blond vampire joined in the merriment, and both men were chuckling as Buffy emerged from the dance floor, her head tilted as she marched up to the pair in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, facing off with her lover.

“Fancied a bit of dancin’,” Spike said, the light from overhead catching the glitter in his blue eyes.

“You’re supposed to be doing research.” She wanted to sound annoyed, but couldn’t, the very sight of him sending her stomach into flip-flops.

“Well, I figured since you got out of doin’ it this afternoon…” He stepped forward, his hand curling around Buffy’s waist, pulling her closer so that he could nuzzle her neck. “…it’s only fair I get out of doin’ it tonight.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips made contact with her skin, searing a path to the line of her jaw before nibbling on the lobe of her ear. “I hardly call this fair,” she murmured, but melted against him, her hand coming up to play with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Behind them, the burly bouncer watched as the couple floated out onto the dance floor, barely able to keep their hands to themselves. It hadn’t been that long ago he had thought Spike was the luckiest guy on earth; now, he knew that wasn’t true. With Willow in his life, there was no way anyone was luckier than Gino.

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

“I still say we should take him out back,” he mumbled, sending daggers with his eyes to Spike’s tuxedoed back on the dance floor.

“And I told you, we do nothing until Mack tells us to,” Xander replied. He didn’t really like this guy he had to work with; Marty was everything the young man had hated when he was in high school---mean-spirited, a lech, and dumb to boot. But, for as long as they had to play make-believe in the painting world, he was going to have to put up with it. At least he had seniority. For once in his life, the asshole had to listen to him for a change.

There was a moment of silence as the two men sipped their drinks, and then Xander heard a low whistle at his side. “Would you look at the gams on that one…” Marty said, grinning lasciviously.

“Where?” He followed his partner’s gaze out past the girls on the floor, over to a table against the back wall, where an elderly gentleman was buying a pack of… “You mean, Willow?” he asked, incredulous.

“You think she’s on the roster yet?”

“No! She is definitely not on the roster!” Boy, Xander was glad that Buffy had filled him in on that little detail.

“Too bad,” Marty commented. “But that sure as hell didn’t stop you last time, did it?” He elbowed his partner in the ribs with a knowing grin.

“I don’t know what in hell you’re talking about,” he protested, half-hoping for the whole story, but his partner only laughed, shaking his head as he moved further down the bar and toward a pack of young women. Gonna have to find out about that one, Xander thought. ‘Cause somethin’ don’t smell right in Mayberry…

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

Gino glanced down at his watch. Three more minutes. It was going to seem like forever. Why had he agreed to wait for so long? Because she asked you to, he answered himself. And if Willow asks, you just do it.

It had been an arrangement they had made after leaving the planetarium this afternoon. Neither of them really wanted to go into work, and the kissing outside her apartment door had started getting quite heavy. He’d shocked himself when his hand had come up and cupped her breast, but he’d been even more shocked when the young redhead had answered his touch by running her free hand down the length of his hardened cock, outlining it beneath his trousers.

Gino had broken away then, pushing Willow back by her shoulders, staring down at her as he struggled to get his breath. She was just as flushed as he was, and when her tongue darted out to lick her lips, it was all he could do not to just scoop her into his arms and take her then and there in the hall. It must’ve been obvious in his face, because she stepped back, reaching for the doorknob, green eyes almost black from the dilation of her pupils.

“My break tonight,” she’d said. “When I go back, wait five minutes, then come back to the dressing room. I’ll make sure no one’s around.”

He’d only nodded, words escaping him, and he watched as she slipped inside the apartment, her eyes never leaving him as she closed the door between them. It hadn’t seemed that long then; after all, what was five minutes? Well, now he knew the answer.
Five minutes was an eternity.

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

She couldn’t help her grin when the knock came to the dressing room door. “Come in!” Willow called out, and bent down to check out her hair and make-up in the mirror one last time. Not that it was going to make a difference because in about five seconds, Gino was going to be kissing her, but still…A girl had to look her best.

“Just the dame I was looking for.”

The voice was not the one she’d been expecting, and Willow straightened, a frown furrowing her brow as she turned to look at the man standing in the doorway. It took her a second to place him, and then remembered…Xander’s partner. What had he said his name was? Started with an M…

“You were…looking for me?” she said, as calmly as she could manage. Mike? No…Mark…?

“I was hoping to get a deck of Luckies,” he said smoothly, entering the dressing room the rest of the way, allowing the door to glide shut behind him.

“Actually, I’m on break right now,” Willow replied, edging slightly away. Not Mark…Marty! She smiled. “I’ve got about ten more minutes so if you want, Marty, I’ll make sure you’re my very first customer as soon as I go back out front.”

“Actually, I lied. I’m not interested in cigarettes.” He kept walking closer to her, cracking his knuckles surreptitiously in front of him.

“You’re not?” It came out more like a squeak than comprehensible words, and the redhead swallowed hard to try and regain control over her voice.

“Xander says you’re quite the dish.”

She blushed, a combination of embarrassment and trepidation. “Well…Xander’s been known to make up stories. You know how he is. All talk, no action. Likes to look important. Tries to…impress…people…” Her words faded away as Marty pressed her into the edge of the dressing table, forcing her to lean backward in order to escape his drunken breath. She was frightened now, her heart hammering in her chest, and her green eyes kept darting to the closed door of the dressing room. Where are you, Gino? she pleaded silently. Please oh please be early…

Marty’s hand shot out, grabbing her by the back of her neck, bending her back toward him. “See, now, I think I have to disagree with that assessment,” he oozed, his tongue licking across her cheek before sinking his teeth into the flesh along her jaw.

Willow flinched, hands coming up to push against his chest, trying desperately to break the contact between them. “You…better stop…” she warned. “Or I’ll---.”

“You’ll what? Scream?” He smiled, baring his crooked teeth, his face only inches from hers. “See, now that’s how I know Xander wasn’t lying. He said you were a dame who liked to be…persuaded.”

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

Her scream split the air in the hallway, cleaving it as sharply as if it were a scythe, and Gino’s whistle stopped in his throat, only one word echoing through his head…

…Willow…

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

The door flew open, crashing against the rails behind it, and Marty froze, the redhead struggling in his arms. “Get out, Gino,” he growled, pulling her back away from the door. “We’re just having ourselves a little bit of fun here. Don’t need an audience.” His eyes widened as the hulking bouncer rushed him, and he shoved against the girl, sending her reeling at the wall so that he could face the onslaught with both hands. Both men went down in a tumble, an ebony mass as one jacket blended with another, skin merged with skin, fist fused with fist.

For a second, everything went black for Willow as her head met the solidity of the wall, and she felt her muscles turn to jelly as she sank to the floor. She could still feel his hands on her skin, could see the death in Gino’s eyes, and opened her own as quickly as she could manage, only to squeeze them shut again as the world swam before her. Nausea swirled up from her stomach, and she heaved, thankful that she hadn’t eaten anything recently, the wretching only making the pounding in her head all that much more intense. Breathe…in…out…breathing is good…in…out…

The heavy grunts of the two men slowly broke through her consciousness, and Willow braved looking again, squinting as the dots danced before her eyes. She couldn’t tell…couldn’t see…one hand…another…Gino on top…his black eyes blazing…and the other…scrambling for control…reaching…

…And her own eyes widened as she caught the glint of metal, her mouth opening…

…the shot ringing through the now too-small dressing room…

“Noooooo!” she screamed as Gino’s burly form collapsed on top of the other man…

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

He didn’t need vampiric senses to hear the gunshot from the back of the club. In his arms, Buffy stiffened, both of them freezing on the dance floor, eyes meeting with instant understanding, and with only that moment’s hesitation, they both broke into a run for the rear exit.

In spite of the hindrance of her skirt, the Slayer was the first to reach the open door of the dressing room, hazel gaze widening as she drank in the scene before her. Gino lay prone on top of Xander’s partner, a dark pool of blood already beginning to form on the floor beneath him, while a sobbing Willow was crawling on her hands and knees toward them, scarlet-stained hands pulling desperately at the bouncer’s jacket as she tried to roll him over. The whimpering that was coming from the redhead’s throat bounced between the walls, creating pockets of pain that seemed to hang in the air, taking on a life of its own as it struggled to escape the tiny room.

Buffy must’ve made a sound because her friend’s green eyes swivelled to look at her, and through her tears, begged, “Help me.”
The blonde needed no further encouragement. Darting forward, she scooped Gino into her arms, lifting him as gently as she could, and rolled him over onto his back, allowing the man underneath him to scramble free. Willow was on the bouncer in a flash, fingers clawing at his shirt, heedless of the blood that was staining her uniform.

“God…please don’t…” she sobbed, almost holding her breath as she found the spot on his neck for which she’d been searching. There was a moment of silence, and then… “He’s still breathing…ohmigod…Buffy, we’ve got to get him out of here…”

The Slayer looked across at her best friend, at the worry etched across her face like glass, shiny tracks down her cheeks. “We will,” she reassured. “He’ll be OK. I promise.” She knew she really had no place to be saying such a thing, but the grief that tore Willow’s eyes was almost more than she could bear.

“What is it? What happened?”

Glancing back over her shoulder, Buffy saw Xander rush up and join Spike in the doorway, effectively blocking any exit the other guy might make. “Gino’s been shot,” she hurried. “We have to get him to a hospital. Now.” Ignoring the wide-eyed stare of Willow’s attacker, she scooped the bouncer up into her arms and headed for the doorway, the redhead right on her heels.

Once the two women were gone, the blond vamp crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Marty who cowered on the other side of the room. “Right then,” he said, his voice a dangerous rumble, “care to tell us what exactly happened here?”

“Did you see that?” Marty asked of Xander, ignoring Spike completely. “She just carried him out of here like he was nothing!”

“Yeah, I saw it, and you haven’t answered the man’s question.” His jaw was locked, his voice just as dangerous as the vampire’s. “What the hell happened in here?”

“I just came back for a little fun. That mug interrupted me with the redhead, then jumped me out of nowhere. You’ve seen how big he is; I had to defend myself.” He seemed to be gaining confidence, straightening as he spoke, stepping forward just a bit closer to the pair in the doorway.

“Whaddaya mean, he interrupted you? What were you and Willow doing?”

Marty grinned. “I decided to see if she was as good as you said she was, and you know what? She did with me exactly what you said she did with you.”

Xander’s eyes widened. “Oh, please, enlighten me.”

“C’mon, you know what I’m talking about. The whole saying no thing when she really means yes? I almost believed her for a second there. ‘Course, that only made it more fun.”

It took a moment for what his partner had said to sink in, but when it did, his jaw dropped. “You think I...Fun? Where do you get off saying such crap?”

“You told me yourself---.”

He never got to finish the sentence. Bolting from his position in the door, Xander rushed forward, his fist lashing out, connecting with an audible thump on the other man’s jaw. He winced from the sudden pain in his knuckles, but struck out again, this time landing somewhere in Marty’s abdomen, thankful for the years of fighting demons at the Slayer’s side. Sure, he’d taken his share of knocks, but at least he knew how to get in a good punch, and this guy was only human.

Spike saw the slight movement of the would-be attacker’s hand and knew that it would escape Xander’s notice, leaping forward to twist the gun from the lackey’s grip before he could use the weapon. Tossing it casually behind him, the blond vamp smiled, just before his leg shot out, barrelling into the mortal’s chest, sending him halfway across the room to crash into the far wall.

“Hey!” Xander said, turning a frowning gaze to Spike. “What’re you doing?”

The vamp’s brows knitted, azure eyes staring intensely at the other man. “Well, let’s see. He attacked Red and he shot Gino. What do you soddin’ think I’m doin’?”

There was a moment as they regarded each other, brown eyes to blue. “If you hold him first,” Xander finally said, “you can have a go at him when I’m done.”

Spike’s lips twisted in pleasure, and he nodded. “Deal.”

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

The hallway was cold, the bench even colder, and Buffy shivered, squeezing her arms tighter against her in an attempt to preserve what little body heat she had. She had run out without her jacket, concentrating only on getting the bouncer to safety, the realization that she was without her own coat escaping her until they were well on their way in the ambulance.

God, she hated hospitals, but there was no way she could stay out of this one, not with her best friend needing her so badly right now. Willow hadn’t let go of Gino’s hand the entire trip over, murmuring words of assurance in his ear while gently brushing the hair away from his forehead. He was still unconscious, but the paramedics had managed to stem the flow of blood, steadying his ragged breathing enough so that the immediate danger wasn’t quite as critical as the Slayer had originally believed. She still didn’t like his color, though; she’d seen enough people die to know when to worry.

As much as she hated to admit it, Giles’ warnings about the purpose of the painting seemed to be tolling true, wreaking destruction in its vengeful wake. Willow had been happier than she’d seen her in ages, and now…

But, as much as she liked Gino, it wasn’t about him that Buffy was really worrying. How long had it been since she herself had been this blissful? There had already been at least two attempts on her and Spike’s lives, and she suspected that the wonkiness of his chip could also be attributed to the picture’s objectives. Yes, they’d been lucky so far, but how long would that last? And now with Giles and Xander here as well…well, there were only so many people the Slayer could protect at once. At least in Sunnydale, the dangers were predictable…vampires, demons, the occasional rogue human. Here, they came out of nowhere.

She heard his footsteps first, but by the time Buffy could look up, he was already standing before her, his long trench soaking from the rain, platinum hair curling at the crown. His head was tilted as he looked down at her, the sapphire gaze softened, and she was in his arms before she could blink, crushed to his chest, oblivious to the moisture under her cheek.

“Shhh,” Spike crooned, more of a vibrato in his body than actual words, and he stroked her golden tresses, smoothing them away from her cheeks as the tears she’d been so desperately trying to hold back began to flow. They just stood there for a moment, locked in solace, clinging to their own happiness like a life preserver, each praying they would be luckier than the unfortunate redhead and her bouncer boyfriend.

“How’s Gino?” the vampire finally asked, the words a gentle cadence almost lost against her velvety skin.

“Alive, if that counts for anything,” Buffy replied. “The bullet went into his stomach, so at least his heart and lungs are OK, but there’s no exit wound, so it’s still somewhere in there. They’re going to operate to get it out as soon as he’s a little more stable.”

“And Red?”

“The nurse is letting her stay with him until they take him down to the operating room. That’s where she is now.” She broke from his arms, suddenly feeling very much alone, and sat back down on the bench, sighing heavily as she leaned forward and rested her head on her hands. “She’s absolutely broken, Spike. I’ve never seen her like this before. Even when Oz left, she at least knew he was alive somewhere out there, even if he didn’t think he could be around her right then. Now…”

The blond vamp laid his coat over the back of the bench before settling down next to her, long hand massaging the tight muscles of her shoulder. “He’s a strong bloke, Buffy. He’ll pull through this.”

“I don’t know,” the Slayer murmured, shaking her head. “You didn’t see him.” She frowned, raising her hazel gaze to look at him. “What happened back at the Sun?”

“Xander and I took care of the wanker who attacked Red,” Spike said simply. “He’s not goin’ to be botherin’ anyone for a long time.”

“Did he say why he did it?”

The vampire shrugged. “We didn’t give him much chance to talk.” As much as he knew Buffy needed to know, Spike had seen the guilt that punctuated each of Harris’ hits, blaming himself and the faux history the painting had created for him for what had happened to Willow. Only Xander could be the one to try and explain it, when and if the right time came.

“I wish I could’ve been there,” the Slayer said bitterly. “Give him the ol’ one-two, and then a little three, four, and five..”

“Red needed you here.” He smiled. “Besides, I think we did just dandy on our own. Bastard won’t be walkin’ any time soon, I can tell you that.” The memory of Marty’s broken legs twisted underneath him as he and Xander had poured him into the alley filled the vampire with a heady sense of justice, intoxicating him as much now as it had then. He only wished he could’ve finished the job, but no, Xander had been adamant about leaving him alive. “This is between you and me,” he’d said. “I won’t tell Giles, but you’ve gotta swear you won’t touch him anymore.” It had been a simple promise to make; after all, he’d already made the same one to Buffy.

“We have to find the safety, Spike. We have to get out of this place before it does any more…damage.” She leaned against his shoulder. “I can deal with the death thing---I mean, hello, Slayer here, deal with death every single day. It’s the…making life miserable part that I hate. What if…?” Her voice trailed off, catching in her throat, the words going unspoken.

The same thoughts had been plaguing him, ever since Buffy had told him what the gang had learned about the bloody picture. Sure, if it had been happening to anyone else, Spike didn’t doubt he’d be getting a kick watching what wreckage it made of their lives, but this was his happiness it was messin’ with here, and nothin’ got away with that, not now, not ever, not if he had anything to say about it. He’d only just found Buffy; he wasn’t about to lose her now to some bleedin’ vengeance painting.

“We’ll do it,” he promised, lips brushing against her hair and added silently, even if I have to bloody well kill everyone in this world to make it happen.

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

She stared down at him, green eyes burning from the tears that seemed constant now, her nose blocked as she sniffled away the latest onslaught of salt. For the first time since meeting him, Gino seemed small to her, insignificant against the stark white of the sheets, short lashes too dark on his pale skin, the ashen pallor in his cheeks relaying the severity of his condition to even the most ignorant onlooker. His breathing was more even now, but Willow didn’t kid herself that that meant he was any better; it just meant that, maybe, he was resting a little more peacefully.

She didn’t know when she had fallen in love with the big guy, but the young witch was beginning to wish that she had stayed unaware just a little bit longer, anything to stop feeling this way…this hole that started in the pit of her stomach and ate its path upward…the overwhelming sense of impotence as she could only watch the lifeforce seep from his body…It wasn’t fair, first Oz, now Gino; was she destined for every man in her life to leave her?

It was just a faint flutter, but it grabbed her attention right away, offering her the first smidgeon of hope since seeing the bouncer collapse. She leaned over, brushing the hair back away from his eyes for the millionth time, forcing a smile to her lips as she said, “Hey, you. Wake up for me, ‘kay? Please?”

There it was again, and this time Willow saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, slowly, deliberately, as if it was the first time he’d ever done it. Try again. “Gino, I’m right here. Let me know you can hear me, sweetie.”

The breath stopped in her throat as his lashes separated, black eyes staring up, then sliding sideways to look at her worried face. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, his tongue darting out to lick his lips before speaking. “You OK?” he croaked.

Her chest exploded in laughter, the incongruity of his question liberating the tension that had wound her up over the past hour, and the redhead buried her face in his shoulder, being careful not to jar the dark-haired bouncer more than necessary. It took a moment for the giggles to fade, and he felt the shake of her head against the dull throb of his muscles. He didn’t understand what so funny; he had seen Mack’s trouble boy pawing her with his own eyes, had heard her scream. Why shouldn’t he wonder if she was OK?

“Are you in any pain?” she was asking, lifting her head to scan his face.

And it was then that he remembered the gunshot, the sound of Willow’s cry as the bullet tore into his gut, more of a surprise than real hurt, and the blackness that followed. His gaze flickered to the sterile ceiling. “I’m…in the hospital,” he murmured.

“Yeah. They’ve got to get the bullet out.” She couldn’t---wouldn’t---tell him how serious it actually was, not until she had nothing else to fight with. And she wasn’t there. Not just yet.

“But…you’re not…he didn’t…” Gino’s mouth was too dry, the burning in his abdomen singeing his throat, stripping him of all his fluids, and he swallowed again in an attempt to clear it.

“I’m fine,” Willow assured him. “Spike and…” Her voice trailed off. Better not to mention Xander just yet, knowing how the bouncer felt about him. “…Buffy showed up.”

In spite of his discomfort, Gino smiled. “Hope Spike did a number on him.”

No way could she answer that, knowing what she did about the vampire’s chip. Better to change the subject. “Do I get to have a raincheck for what we had planned for my break?” Willow asked with a small smile, trying desperately to keep her tone light.

He started to chuckle, only to wince as the strain on his diaphragm sent knives of pain slicing through his torso. The redhead’s smile vanished, only to be replaced by a frown, hands going to his shoulders as if to hold him down, almost as if the act of laughter would somehow worsen his condition. “Guess I better not make with the funnies ‘til you feel better.”

“No…funnies are good. It’s the laughing part that’s bad.”

Her smile returned, but it was only on the outside; the knowledge that he was about to undergo major surgery that would hopefully save his life just refused to go away, even for a minute. She felt so helpless; there had been nothing she could about Oz, and now…with Gino…it was all in the doctor’s hands.

…Or was it? The first flicker of an idea began to burn behind her green eyes, and Willow grabbed onto it, clutching it to her chest as if to protect it from extinguishing, fanning the flame with her hope. Tenderly, she leaned over, brushing a gentle kiss over Gino’s mouth, the surprise of delight shining in his black eyes. Yes, she had to try. She couldn’t lose this man as well, not after she’d only just found him…

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

She’d almost been asleep, her lids drifting closed, the ether of slumber threatening to overtake her, when the shadow passed in front of the window, followed almost immediately by a second…and then a third.

Straightening in the chair, Anya’s senses went into alert, head leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse of whoever it was had stopped at Giles’ front door, her heartrate tripling when she saw the familiar form of an Injopa demon raise its claws to rake at the door’s hinges. Brown eyes widening, she snatched up the painting from the desk, being careful to touch it only by the frame, and made a dash for the bathroom, locking it behind her before climbing into the bathtub and pulling the curtain.

Not good, she intoned silently. Not good, not good. Injopa demons were notorious thieves, rented out to the highest bidder, and the only thing Giles had of any real value in the entire apartment now rested against the faucet here in the tub, the plug in the drain stopping it from sliding across the white porcelain. Anya glared at the painting, focusing her frustration at the suited form of her boyfriend. This is all your fault, she thought. If you’d just listened to me in the first place, I wouldn’t be here right now about to get my throat ripped out by a demon with an attitude.

The sound of a door being ripped from its frame echoed from outside the bathroom, followed quickly by the guttural grunts of the would-be thieves as they began ransacking the lounge. For a split second, she almost wished she’d left the damn picture out there for them to find, but deep in her heart, Anya knew she couldn’t have done it. Not with Xander stuck inside it…the jerk.

The sounds began to come nearer, their voices sending shivers through her skin, and she realized…she was trapped. Why couldn’t you live someplace that had a back door, Giles? she accused. It would only be a matter of time before they found her, and what they would do then was no mystery to the ex-vengeance demon. Injopas were notorious for torturing humans who stumbled across their paths. She would be killed, right after they eviscerated her, right after one of them probably raped her. Oh joy.

There really was only one route of escape, and Anya closed her eyes, shaking her head, her anger beginning to redirect itself. You better appreciate this, Xander, she thought, and reached out to place her palm directly onto the canvas…

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

The crowd was starting to thin, the girls one by one pairing off with customers, and Xander sipped at his drink as he watched Giles turn away from the microphone for the last time that night. His hands hurt, the knuckles on his right slightly torn from the repeated punches he’d thrown at Marty, but the thing that bothered him the most right now wasn’t physical.

This is a sick, sick world, he grumbled. In spite of the warnings they’d had, in spite of the little time they’d actually been here, Xander hadn’t quite been prepared for the level of badness that they’d been hit with. Killing a demon was one thing; knowing you were the reason your best friend got assaulted was something else entirely. Beating the other man had offered him a moment of respite from his guilt, and, he had to admit, watching Spike finish off the job, knowing the vampire’s punches were so much more lethal than his own, had given him a twisted thrill, but now that it was all said and done, the fact still remained…Gino was in the hospital and Willow had almost been raped because of Xander.

Giles mopped at the sweat on his forehead as he approached the bar. “Scotch, neat,” he said to the bartender, before turning to face his young friend. “You haven’t had bad news, have you?” he asked quietly.

Xander shook his head. “Buffy called. Will’s pretty shaken up ‘cause that Gino is getting operated on, but apparently the paramedics were able to do some good for him before they got to the hospital.”

“Paramedics?” The Watcher sipped cautiously at his drink, a frown between his eyes. “Odd. Those aren’t indigenous to this time period. In fact, if memory serves, they weren’t in common practice until after---.”

“Giles!” The anger and frustration rang out in the young man’s voice, a bitter rasp as he lashed out at the Englishman. “We’re not exactly in Kansas anymore, remember? I don’t think the history review is one-hundred percent accurate for this place anyway. It may look kinda like home and it may quack kinda like home, but this sure as hell doesn’t mean it is home. And right now, I’ve had about as much as I can stand of alternate demon dimensions. I just want to get the hell out of Dodge and back to my drippy, cramped little basement hellhole, because at least there, I don’t have to see Willow look at me like I’m devil spawn.”

Giles regarded him over the rim of his glass. “It’s not your fault, Xander,” he soothed.

“Yeah, well, it sure as hell feels like my fault,” the younger man muttered, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp before slamming the empty tumbler onto the counter. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “One good thing, at least I don’t have to face Anya’s I-told-you-so’s about this place. I think that would just about send me over the edge right now.”

“Great show, Mr. Giles.” The voice came from behind him, and the Watcher turned around to see a smiling Sammy hovering at his elbow. “Buffy sure was right about you. You’re the best torcher we’ve had around here since that dame who ran off with the shylock.”

“Um, thank you,” the Englishman murmured.

“Yeah, between you and the replacement Mr. Lombardi got for Ms. Summers, this joint is going to be back on top in no time,” Sammy continued.

“He got a replacement for Buffy?” Xander queried.

“Oh, yeah, well, he had to with Spike pulling her from the roster and all. I mean, she was our biggest draw. Things have slowed down considerably around here ever since she went off the market. Still, Mr. Lombardi managed to pull some strings and wangle a good deal in order to get Ms. Jenkins away from the Honey Bunny downtown.”

Xander had turned away, about to motion to the bartender to come over to refill his drink, when the young manager’s words finally sunk in. Very slowly, he swivelled back. “Did you say…Ms. Jenkins?”

“Sure,” Sammy chimed. “Mr. Lombardi’s going over the ropes with her right now. And boy are we lucky to get her. Next to Ms. Summers, Anya Jenkins is the best pro skirt on the circuit.”

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

He didn’t even bother to knock, just shoved the door open and marched inside, hands balled into fists in his pockets. Perched on the corner of his desk, Lombardi yanked the cigarette out of his mouth, about ready to bark at the intruder, only to freeze at the sight of Xander.

“Thought you’d gone home for the night, Mr. Harris,” he started.

He ignored the older man, instead stepping straight for the chair that sat before the desk, grabbing the arm of the woman who sat there, and pulling her to her feet. “What’re you doing here?” he demanded.

Anya just stared back at him. “It’s good to see you, too, Xander,” she said dryly.

Lombardi frowned. “You two know each other?”

“Sometimes, I wonder,” the young man muttered. “You mind if I talk to her for just a sec?”

“Sure, be my guest.” He watched as Harris pulled the newest recruit over to the corner of the room, turning his back to the desk so that they could have a little privacy. With Mack still in the hospital, his right-hand man was now the bigshot around here; no way was he going to ruffle those feathers, not after what he’d heard had happened to Marty.

“Decide you were in the mood for a little vacation?” Xander asked.

“If you must know, it was either certain death by staying or maybe death by coming through. I chose the maybe.”

“What happened?”

“Some demons broke into Giles’ apartment to steal the painting---.”

“Whoa. What were you doing at Giles’?”

“Looking for you, bonehead.” Anya folded her arms across her chest defiantly. “Not that it matters, but I was starting to get worried when you didn’t call. I just wanted to see if you were actually stupid enough to come after Buffy and Willow.”

Xander set his jaw and held up a warning finger. “OK, so not the time for this.”

“Have you at least figured out who the safety is?”

“We’re still working on that…”

“What?” Her voice rose louder than Xander liked, and he glanced back over his shoulder at Lombardi, checking to make sure he wasn’t listening. “You’ve been here for two days. What the hell have you been doing? Dancing?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, Ahn. Things have been…happening…”

“It’s a good thing I’m here then. Somebody needs to give you guys a good kick in the pants, and let me just say, I really want to be that somebody right now. I have no plans on going down with the ship here.”

“Neither do we.” Behind him, Lombardi cleared his throat, reminding them of his presence, and Xander lowered his voice even further. “Let me just take care of this roster thing and we’ll get out of here to do some planning.”

“Yeah, what’s with that anyway?” Anya asked. “Smokey over there has been gushing for the last half hour about how glad he is that I’m on the roster here now, and how privileged he is that I’m one of his girls.”

“Apparently, it’s your job here. Girls on the roster have to sleep with the customers.”

There was a long moment of silence and he watched as the small line formed between his girlfriend’s brows as her brain whirled into overdrive. That was one thing he really liked about Anya; you could always tell when she was thinking.

“And I’d get paid for that?” she queried, and all of a sudden, Xander didn’t like how her voice had changed, taking on that familiar capitalist twang that he was coming to know so well. “So basically, being on the roster would mean having all the sex I want, and then taking their money.”

His eyebrows shot up. “What happened to kicking us in the pants?”

“Can’t I do both?”

“That would be a big fat no.” He turned on his heel to face Lombardi. “When is she supposed to start?” he asked, jerking his head toward Anya.

“I got her on for tonight. There’s a couple high rollers out front who’d love---.”

“Book her for me.” Anya stared up at her boyfriend with wide eyes, not entirely recognizing this new and forceful Xander.

The older man began squirming, uncomfortable with the order. “Well, now, Mr. Harris, I’d love to, but---.”

“I’ll pay you twice her going rate.” Thank god he was in charge of Mack’s finances while he was in the hospital, he thought.

The gleam of money-loving delight shone in Lombardi’s eye, and he smiled. “I’ve got to admit, I do like your style,” he commented before sliding around to the back of the desk. He grabbed his ledger and settled his bulk into the chair. “And after Gino got shot, I thought this night was going to be a bust,” he said dryly. “Now, I got the best in the biz on my roster, and a plan on how to replace Gino in the works. I’d say life is pretty darn good.”

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

She didn’t want to get out, but Buffy knew that if she spent any longer in the tub, she’d shrivel into a prune. Whoever invented bubble bath deserves a lifetime supply of chocolate, she thought as she pulled out the plug. The sucking of the water as it went down the drain pulled her from her reverie, destroying the shroud she’d wrapped herself in to numb herself from the evening’s events. Back to the real world, she sighed silently, and then hastily corrected herself. Back to the painting world.

Willow was still at the hospital, having refused their offer to take her home. “I need to be here in case something happens,” she’d said. Even Buffy’s suggestion that she run back with a change of clothes had been met with rejection and the flat statement that she’d call Xander and have him run over her bag from the club. Neither of them liked the look on the redhead’s face, the lines that suddenly seemed to appear around her eyes, the hollows in her cheeks, but they knew there was nothing more that they could do…not just then.

Spike had been the one to suggest the bath, gently steering her toward her bedroom in spite of her protests. Buffy had begged for him to join her, but he’d been adamant. “You need to relax,” he’d said. “And we both know if I go in there, relaxin’ will be the last thing that happens.”

As usual, the blond vampire had been right, and the Slayer had lost herself in the liquid paradise, scrubbing the dried blood from her skin until she was striated in crimson, leaning back against the porcelain rim to allow the water to just envelop her. She’d almost fallen asleep at one point, although if someone had pressed her on it, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them what she’d been thinking. It was easier to just not.

As she emerged from the steamy bathroom, the wet tendrils of her hair clinging to her shoulders, Buffy was disappointed to see that the room was deserted, curtains drawn against the night sky, the bed still fully made. Part of her had been hoping to find Spike there, maybe already sleeping, so that she could crawl up next to him, press herself into his flesh. But that impulse was going to be denied. Hard to act on someone if they weren’t there.

She didn’t have to look far. When she opened her door, the first thing she saw was the cloud of smoke that hovered in the air over the couch, the red flare of his cigarette the only illumination in the room. “Spike?” she called softly, taking a step inward.

She heard his soft exhalation, saw the wisps drift over his head. “Feel better, luv?” he asked. His voice was soft, slightly slurred, and as the Slayer peered into the darkness, she saw the empty tumbler resting on the coffee table, a bottle of whisky sitting next to it.

“Much. Thank you.” Buffy took another step, and now she could see the pale gleam of his chest where it lay bared beneath his opened shirt, untucked from his trousers, the top button of those undone. He was lying back, platinum head propped against the arm rest, and the tip of his cigarette sent scarlet shadows dancing across the planes of his face, disguising his eyes in blackness while highlighting the fullness of his bottom lip.

“Red’s in love with him, y’know.”

It was a flat statement of fact, but she didn’t see where it had come from. What’s eating at him? she wondered. “I know,” she admitted. “She didn’t tell me as much, but it was pretty obvious.”

“She’s just not havin’ a good year, is she?” said Spike, ending it with a harsh chuckle. “First wolfboy leaves, now Gino…”

Buffy watched as he sat up and leaned forward, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray in front of him, taking with it the only light in the room. Her eyes had adjusted now, so she could still make out his outline, but the details were lost to her.

“What happens when we get out of here, Buffy?”

The question took her by surprise, and the young woman saw that he wasn’t even looking at her, holding his head in his hands, fingers entwining in his blonde curls. “She’ll go on,” she replied. “She has to.”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about Red.” As he stood up, she heard the soft clink of his belt settling, and her eyes followed his body as he walked, slightly crooked, to the record player, searching through the stack of albums at its side before dropping one onto the turntable. There was a moment, and then a scratch as the needle hit the vinyl, the music filtering into the room only seconds later.

His head tilted as he looked over at her, face hidden in darkness. “Dance with me,” he said. It wasn’t a request; it wasn’t an order…it was an invitation, and Buffy felt her feet moving toward the blond vampire even before she could consciously decide. Not that it would’ve been a no, but her body was more attuned to his needs than her head was, and it wasn’t about to refuse him.

Her body melted against his, the rhythm of the orchestration guiding her feet, and she laid her cheek against his chest, the cotton of his shirt sliding enough away so that it was skin against skin…heat against ice…life against death…

“Don’t want to lose this,” Spike mumbled, nuzzling her damp hair, inhaling her scent as if it was as vital to him as blood. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, almost as intoxicating as if she’d drunk it herself, and wondered again what was wrong.

“You won’t,” she murmured, and felt his arms tighten around her, hands splaying across her sides.

“Why…” she heard him whisper, mouth travelling to her temple, tongue darting out to trace the ever so slight indentation, feeling the echo of her pulse shudder down its length…into his throat…settling into his chest as if to substitute his own missing heartbeat.

Was it even something she was supposed to answer? He seemed so lost, drifting in the haze of whatever fugue was possessing him, and he clung to her, words lost as his lips returned to her hair. “Spike…”

“Need you, Buffy…”

Those words she heard. Stopping the movement of her feet, the young woman pulled back, sliding her hands up to the sides of the vampire’s face, holding it away so that he was forced to look her in the eye. “I love you,” she said firmly, hoping that hearing the words would pull him back, moor him in the strength he’d shared with her at the hospital. “And we can do this. Because one plus one doesn’t always equal two. Sometimes…it equals everything.”

His lips came crashing down to hers, the hunger not just physical, and she met him with equal force, tongues winding around the other, hands pulling at the clothes that separated them. Buffy felt his muscles tremble under her fingers as his shirt slipped from his shoulders, and the pounding of her heart seemed to reverberate throughout her body as Spike pushed aside the satin of her robe to cup her bare breast in ice. His thumb flicked over her hardened nipple, and she moaned into the kiss, her fingers working down his back, sliding under the loosened waistband of his trousers to skirt around its edges to the front.

She stepped back, eyes locked with his, and slowly pulled down the zipper, the metallic song lost in the brassy swell of the record, allowing his pants to drop silently to the floor. His cock sprang free, already fully erect, and Buffy smiled. “Have I mentioned yet how erotic it is that you go commando?” she teased, tracing a finger around its dripping head.

For the first time since she’d come out of the bathroom, Spike grinned. “Just a matter of practicality,” he growled. “One less piece of clothing in the way for you to do…” He hissed as her tiny hand suddenly grasped his arousal, its power almost overwhelming, before quickly releasing it, stepping forward to press her mouth to the hollow at the base of his throat. “…that,” he finished.

Buffy ignored him, tasting the icy tang of his skin as her tongue lapped down his chest, travelling to one nipple…catching it between her teeth…before moving to the other, and repeating the small bite. When the vampire’s hands came up to her hair, she batted them away, the small laugh suspending itself in the back of her throat. “Just enjoy,” she murmured, and finished the path downwards until she ended on her knees, her tongue outlining the sharp jut of his pelvis.

He could feel the heat of her skin just inches from his cock, infuriatingly near and yet so tantalizingly far, and could only watch as her golden head moved around it, the bud of her mouth circumventing contact as it skated over his hips and across the top of his thigh. When Spike felt the fire between his legs, he growled, feeling her take the sac in her mouth, sucking at his balls with just enough force to make him feel like she was swallowing him, only to intensify the sensations by gently stroking the velvet skin that lay behind them.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as the vampire fought to maintain control, the throbbing in his cock almost a living entity as it hovered mere inches from Buffy’s mouth. She was deliberately taking her time, savoring his taste, extending his pleasure, and when her tongue snaked along the underside of his shaft, Spike grabbed the edge of the nearby cupboard in an attempt not to just throw her to the ground and fuck her then and there.

Buffy smiled. Over the past few days, she had learned exactly what it was that sent the blond vampire most quickly to the edge, and oral stimulation was definitely high up on the list. So was surprise…

She buried him in her throat before he even knew what was happening, small hands cupping his ass as she held him close, jaw dropping to accommodate his girth. Spike gasped as the shudder ran down his body, eyes closing as she began sucking up…and down…taking her time, but not losing her rhythm…slowly…steadily…deeper with each pass downward.

The music stopped, but neither noticed, and it wasn’t until Buffy sensed the quiver in his cock that signified his imminent explosion did she pull away, licking around the dripping head one last time before sitting back on her heels and shrugging her robe from her shoulders. Even she could smell her pussy by this point, could feel the juices dripping down her thighs, and, as soon as he looked down at her, blue eyes almost black with desire, the young woman dropped her hand to her soaking slit and ran a single finger around the inner lips, coating it until it glistened in the dim light of the lounge. Without breaking the lock on their gazes, Buffy lifted her hand in offering, index finger extended.

Spike’s tongue darted out, running along the edge of his top teeth, the growl coming from his throat almost continuous by this point. Reaching out, he wrapped his lean grip around her proffered wrist, pulling her to her feet, lowering his head until his mouth descended over the sticky digit, suckling at her finger as if it was his lifeblood. She groaned as he slowly increased the pressure, his free hand seizing her waist, drawing her even closer against him so that their bare thighs pressed into the other’s, his dripping cock flattened against his abdomen.

When he finally released her finger, sliding up its length as slowly as she’d slid down his cock, Spike stepped away from the cupboard, pulling her along behind him as he crossed the distance to the bedroom, neither of them speaking a word. Although she hated to admit it to herself, Buffy was torn, part of her desperately in need for the blond vampire to just bury himself within her, the other part knowing that he needed this to be about them and not about the act. In spite of his earlier bravado…in spite of his cocky assurances that nothing could beat the Slayer with a vampire at her side…she knew that he was scared, rocked by the realization that Giles’ information was holding true…get what you want only to lose it…and the pair of them were already there, with no sign yet as to how to get out and escape the inevitable…

She let him press her into the bed, a strong hand taking both of her wrists into its grasp and locking them over her head, his corded shoulders descending until his mouth met hers. Their hips seemed to work of their own free will---her legs lifting, separating, wrapping around him…guiding his ready cock to her slick opening as their kiss deepened. He filled her, feeling the walls of her pussy stretch around him, sucking him in, until there was no place else to go but out…

The vibrato from both of their chests filled the room, a constant humming that to an outsider would’ve seemed almost like a purr, as Slayer and vampire crested the wave of their hunger. In…and out…the most natural rhythm in the world…manifesting itself as their bodies began to glisten with sweat, their coupling quickening, their kisses never ceasing.

When she felt the first tremors of her orgasm begin to quiver along her inner walls, Buffy was almost dismayed, reluctant to lose the intoxicating pounding of his cock. She broke from his mouth to stare up into his eyes, drowning in their cerulean depths, whispering, “I love you, Spike,” only to be rewarded with the gentle upturn of his mouth just before it lowered again to hers, swallowing her down as he used his free hand to cup her ass, forcing his cock even deeper without ever breaking his pace.

When she came, it was almost silently, a mere exhalation accompanying the fire that burned through her system like liquid smoke. As he felt the muscles of her pussy clench around his cock, the vampire released her hands, and they sprang immediately to his back, clutching at him, holding him tighter, lost in her own personal oblivion as her every cell trembled. That was all it took for him, and he plunged with one last stroke, burying himself to the hilt as his icy seed flooded inside her. All thoughts of the evening were banished…all memories of the badness that had been surrounding them dissipating…and Spike pressed his lips to her neck, sucking at that spot---his spot---while the world slipped away…leaving only the two of them…

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

She was alone in the front of the club, eyes darting around at the darkened room, the faint sounds of movement in the back echoing across the tiles. She had hated lying to Buffy, but no way would her best friend have understood, not now, not in this place. And there was just too much at stake for her to try and take the time to explain it.

As Willow hurried to the rear exit, the image of an unconscious Gino kept flitting past her mind’s eye, the dark shadows under his eyes making him seem gaunt in spite of his bulk, his normally powerful hands now lying weakly against the gurney as the orderly wheeled him to the operating room. They hadn’t known how long it was going to take, but had been sure of one thing; it would not be quick. That was the only reason she would’ve braved leaving just then; she had to ensure that she was back at the hospital before they were done. She had to know what had happened.

She saw him as soon as she pushed open the door, his instrument case dangling from his hand as he hastily walked to the exit at the back of the club, and the redhead had to run in order to catch up to him, stumbling only once in the heels she so detested but ignoring the pain in her ankle as she grabbed at his coat sleeve.

Tony stopped, turning to see who it was that was clinging to him, his spectacled gaze widening slightly as he recognized the young woman…one of the Slayer’s friends.

Her green eyes fixed on his. “Someone tells me you do magic,” she said softly…