DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Anya has come through the painting, Buffy has finally told Spike she loves him, and Willow has sought out Tony…

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

He stared at her from behind his glasses, absorbing the blood-stained uniform, the darkening shadows under her eyes. She wasn’t like the others. The men from this afternoon had been almost as frightening as Spike, and his increasing worry about the Slayer and what she might do to him was causing him endless sleepless nights. This one, though…There was a fragility about her that actually appealed to him, bringing out protective instincts he’d thought long ago slaughtered by Melinda, and Tony found himself actually stopping, listening to her, instead of running as far away as possible. He’d always been a sucker for the damsel in distress routine.

“Hello? Earth to bugle boy…” Willow frowned, her hand dropping from his sleeve. “Although…OK, technically not Earth, so…alternate demon dimension to Tony; come in, Tony.”

His slight smile seemed genuine. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

She waited as one of the other musicians passed behind her, answering his good-bye wave with a waggle of her fingers. As soon as the pair was alone again, though, the redhead turned back to the trumpet player. “Giles said you knew magic. And, seeing as how he’s usually right about these things---well, that and the fact that you’re wearing a fraden protection amulet---I was hoping I could get you to help me with a spell.”

The request was unexpected, not only because she was Buffy’s friend which meant she should be trying to pump him for information on the painting---wasn’t that what they were all trying to do?---but because Willow hardly seemed like the type to even know anything about magic. Of course, he quickly amended, hanging around the Slayer probably meant being exposed to more of the supernatural than the regular joe off the street. God knew, he’d learned a helluva lot more than he ever expected by being with Melinda.

“I suppose it’s really pointless for me to try and deny it, huh?” he said, with a wry grin.

Willow relaxed. This was going much better than she’d anticipated. Although she hadn’t really had any encounter herself yet with the young trumpet player outside of falling on him, she’d gathered a first impression based on what the others had said, and now, it didn’t seem to fit. He actually seemed really nice. “I’ve made my share of amulets in my time,” she said, trying to set him at ease.

“What kind of spell are you thinking about?” This was where he had to tread lightly. For all he knew, this was just some huge trick on Buffy’s part to try and get him to reveal what he knew about the safety, and he wasn’t going to do that, no matter what they tried doing to him. OK, so he didn’t think he’d really be that strong under torture, but then again, not one of them had actually done anything more than push him around a bit. Maybe getting physical wasn’t part of their modus operandi.

“Well…it’s a…kind of a…healing spell,” she faltered.

His gaze flickered over the dried patches on her clothes, remembering the gunshot from earlier, Sammy’s announcement that Gino had been taken to the hospital. She wanted to save the bouncer, although why, he had no idea. “That’s what hospitals are for,” Tony said simply. “You shouldn’t mess around with those kind of magics.”

He saw her harden before his eyes, the fine line of her jaw setting, green eyes beginning to blaze. “Don’t be telling me what I can and can’t do,” Willow averred. “I wouldn’t even be asking you if the only spell I know of that’ll do the trick didn’t require two people.” She had considered approaching Giles for his help, but she already knew what he would say. The Watcher just wouldn’t understand why she had to do this, would criticize her for losing focus on what they were trying to do. And without her usual resources, she couldn’t go looking for something she could do on her own. This was her only option.

“Will you tell me why?” the musician asked. “When we get home---” God, he’d almost said if, had to be more careful… “---Gino’s still going to be here. Why go to the bother of saving him?”

“Because he deserves better,” Willow replied. “And if I can do that for him, then I’m going to.”

Tony bit his lip as he contemplated her request. He could probably figure out what spell she was thinking of, and she was right, she needed his help. How skilled she actually was, he had no idea; for all he knew, she was just a novice with delusions of grandeur, although she had recognized his amulet when she saw it. And doing the spell with her was going to draw attention to himself, something he was desperately trying to avoid. There were tons of reasons why he should turn her down, but there was one that almost demanded he say yes…

“What’s in it for me?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. He wanted to be…paid?

The musician chuckled. “Guess I should probably be more clear than that,” he said. “What I meant was, if I help you with this healing spell…would you help me with a spell of my own?”

His counteroffer sent the waves of guilt washing over her, and Willow swallowed as she tried to clear the lump from her throat. She already felt bad enough about going behind Buffy’s back to get Tony’s help in the first place; now he wanted her to make it worse by helping him do something that would probably only piss her off even more? “My turn to ask,” she said. “What kind of spell?”

Her anxiety must’ve shone through because his eyes widened behind his glasses. “Oh, nothing bad,” he hastily assured. “Nothing that’s going to hurt anyone. I don’t do that kind of magic.”

“Well, then what?”

He blushed. “A protection spell. For me. Talking to Mr. Giles today made me realize that these little accidents I’ve been having are going to keep on happening until I’m pretty much dead. And I’d like to avoid that if I can. I’ve been lucky so far, but that can’t last forever.” He held his breath, taking the plunge. “I know this spell that will help me get a heads up when my life is in danger, but it’s pretty powerful stuff. I can’t do it on my own.” Fingers crossed, he thought.

She couldn’t believe him. Buffy will never forgive me, Willow thought. It’s one thing to want some help for the man I love; it’s something else entirely to help someone who could potentially be a threat. “Maybe you’re right,” she said out loud, slowly backing away. “Maybe I shouldn’t be messing around with that kind of magic. My last spell kinda went kaplooie on me so there’s no telling what this one would do.” She managed a weak smile, but felt her heart sink, the despair about Gino’s condition returning as she realized she wasn’t going to be able to help him after all. It’s not fair! her head raged. It’s just not fair…

Tony watched as the redhead slowly walked off, her head low, the slump in her shoulders unmistakeable. She’d turned him down. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised by that or not, but regardless, it put him right back where he’d started. Damn, he thought. So close and yet so far…

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

He had been awake for hours, listening to her breathe, the soft exhalations gossamer tendrils of warmth skimming along his bare chest. His fingers itched to stroke the golden hair that splayed down his side, but Spike consciously reined in the urge, unwilling to shatter the spell by inadvertently waking Buffy and forcing the day to start.

She had said it. She had actually said it. Although he had known it, although he had believed her body when it heralded its feelings for him every time he touched her, part of the blond vamp couldn’t believe the Slayer would, or even could, vocalize those emotions into something as concrete as, “I love you.” That was commitment. That was admittance. That was opening a door to problems and difficulties and wonderfulness that loving him would force upon her. He knew she feared what the gang thought, and though he’d been chuffed when Buffy had stood up for him at the meeting the previous day, Spike also knew how much it was eating her up inside. And that in turn, ate him.

Starting to drink after returning from the hospital had probably not been the brightest of ideas, letting loose the qualms and anxieties about their future that he’d been trying so desperately to contain. But she had known, just like she always knew, and done exactly what he needed to allay those fears, offering him her body and her soul as guides through the darkness, drawing him safely to the other side. It was just one of the reasons why he loved her. One of the many.

The pounding seemed to come from far away, and it took Spike a moment to realize it was actually originating from the front door of their apartment. Fuck, he thought. Can only be Giles or Harris callin’ at this hour. When he felt Buffy begin to stir in his arms, he quickly shut his eyes, feigning sleep, hoping she wouldn’t make him go get it.

“What’s all the noise?” she murmured, snuggling in deeper into his chest.

The vampire made some indistinguishable sounds in his throat, continuing the pretense while the knocking went on, until finally Buffy sighed, rolling herself away, leaving him with only her warm pillow as a reminder of her presence. He waited for the door to open and then close, before allowing his lips to curl as he rolled onto his side to face the window. Too early for Scoobies, he thought. Let Buffy deal with them.

He had almost drifted back to sleep when the bedroom door creaked open again, the soft step of the Slayer returning to the bed. Instead of lying down again, though, he felt the feather touch of her hand on his face. “Spike,” Buffy murmured. “Get up.”
Bollocks, he thought, and let his eyes flicker open, settling on hers, noticing the thin set of her lips. “What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “You better come out here.”

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

Spike sauntered through the doorway, doing up the button on his trousers, ready to give Rupert a piece of his mind for disturbing them at such an ungodly hour. He stopped in his tracks, though, when he saw Lombardi peering into the liquor cabinet, taking out the occasional bottle, only to shake his head and return it to its home. A second man, this one tall and lean, hovered near the front door, but the blond vamp had no clue as to who the hell he was, or why he would look so uncomfortable.

Buffy cleared her throat, diverting Lombardi’s attention away from the alcohol, and Spike watched as his ex-boss turned to look at the pair of them, a huge smile on his face. Well, damn if he doesn’t look like the cat that ate the bleedin’ canary, the vampire thought. What has he been up to now?

“Well, don’t ever have to worry about you two being on the nut,” he commented, motioning extravagantly to the surroundings. “Been a long time since I seen a place look this good.”

“I know you didn’t come by to comment on the décor,” Spike growled, his eyes darting to the other man. “Unless this is your personal decorator.”

“Nope,” said Lombardi. “I got us a plan that’s going to solve both of our problems.”

“And what problems would those be?” Buffy asked, her annoyance shading her words in glassy hues.

He didn’t even seem to notice, just settled his bulk onto the couch as he spoke. “Your problem is Mack,” he said. “’Cause of Spike’s temper here, you’ve pissed off a very powerful man, so things aren’t goin’ to be too kosher for you two until he’s happy again. On the other hand, my problem is that I’m now out my two best bouncers. Gino’s out of commission indefinitely, and in the current environment, I can’t bring Spike back on board to fill in the gap.”

“I just know you’ve got a point in there somewhere,” the vampire drawled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he gazed at the man steadily.

“You need to get Mack of your back, and I need you to come back to work. Only way for that to happen is for Mack to see how serious you two really are.” He sat forward, the excitement about his plan a gleam in his watery eyes. “See, the way I got it doped, Mack only did what he did ‘cause he thought he could get away with it. I mean, you gotta admit, you girls are forever flitting from one mug to the next. How’s he supposed to know you two got the real thing? Well, I tell you how he’s supposed to know.” Lombardi paused, milking the moment for dramatic effect, but only annoying the pair even further. “You two are getting hitched. Today. Right now. That way Mack’ll see how nutso you two are for each other, he’ll back off, and Spike can come back to work tonight. Both problems solved.” He leaned back against the cushion, arm coming up to lie across the back of the couch, a huge grin spreading his normally dour face.

Buffy’s jaw dropped. He had not just suggested what she thought he did…did he? “You’re kidding,” she said. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“What’s the problem? You two are going to do it anyway. Just move up the date a bit.”

Her mind scrambled. “But there’s paperwork that has to be---.”

“Done it. I pulled a few strings to get it rushed through.”

“But we can’t just do it here---.”

Lombardi waved over the other man, who finally stepped into the living area, his hands folded together in front of him. “This here’s Ira O’Malley. He’s an officially ordained minister so everything will be on the up and up. And I’ll witness it, so you got no bone there.” He paused, waiting for the next objection.

“A…a…a wedding,” she finally managed. “I wanted a big, white wedding. This just won’t do.” Buffy smiled, finally confident she’d found an argument he couldn’t refute.

“And you’ll get it,” Lombardi said. “I’ll even foot the bill for the whole thing. Consider this…a rehearsal. Except it’ll be the real thing for Mack.”

There was a moment of silence. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She couldn’t marry Spike! Yeah, she loved him, but she was just a freshman in college, and she had the whole Slaying thing, and her mom would kill her if she got married without telling her…

“You really think the wanker will back off?”

Buffy whirled to stare with wide eyes at Spike. His question sounded suspiciously like he was seriously entertaining the idea, the casual tilt of his head only seeming to confirm her notion. What the hell was he thinking?

“Positive,” confirmed Lombardi. “Mack’s not stupid. And there’s lots of dames out there who’d be more than happy to distract him. I’m sure he’ll get over Buffy in no time flat.” He glanced at the young blonde. “No offense.”

The vampire strolled forward and grasped Buffy’s upper arm. “Give us a sec,” he said to the other man as he pulled her along behind him to the kitchen.

“What exactly are you doing?” she demanded, once they were in the privacy of the next room.

“Trying to make life a little easier for us ‘til we get outta here, luv,” he said. “Why are you throwing a wobbler?”

“We can’t get married!”

“And why not? We were goin’ to do it back in Sunnydale. Or have you forgotten all about the whole Wind Beneath My Wings---?”

“That was a spell. Totally different.”

“So consider this just another spell.” He sighed, leaning back against the counter, pulling her between his legs so that he could put his arms around her waist. “Look, what’s doin’ it goin’ to actually mean? Nothin’s goin’ to change, and it’s not like we’re not already living together. And it won’t mean a thing once we get back to the Hellmouth. We do this, we can get that prat off our backs and concentrate on finding the safety.” He brushed his lips across her forehead. “’Sides, didn’t think you’d hate the idea of a wedding night…”

In spite of her resolve, Buffy felt herself weakening against his arguments. He had a point. It wasn’t really a marriage. It was just another unfortunate side effect of having to endure life in the painting. And the prospect of a wedding night did sound appealing…

She sighed, resting her cheek against his bare chest. “Giles is sooooo going to kill me,” she murmured.

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

“So, you’re telling me, Spike and Buffy are in love.”

“Yep.”

“And it’s not a spell this time.”

“Nope.”

“And Willow’s dating this Gino guy.”

“Yep.”

“And he’s not from our world.”

“Nope.”

Anya sighed, shaking her head. “This is as bad as that stupid soap Spike watches,” she commented.

“Just be thankful you didn’t have to be here for the whole support-Spike-or-I’ll-stake-you speech,” Xander replied, stopping before the door, his hand automatically coming up to knock on it. “Too bad Giles won the toss on who got to go to the hospital to check on Willow.”

They could hear the murmur of voices inside the apartment, but only had to wait a moment before the door was pulled open. The duo frowned as Lombardi put a finger to his lips, motioning for them to be quiet as he ushered them in.

“…I now pronounce you, man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Xander’s jaw dropped as he watched a half-naked Spike and a robed Buffy turn into each other’s arms and kiss, their bodies melting into the other’s, their hands roaming over the other’s back. Holy. Gee. Willikers.

“You know, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say Giles is going to be very upset he missed this,” Anya murmured.

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

In spite of her guilt, she had to admit that the shower felt good, washing away the blood and the grime of the past eighteen hours, scrubbing at her skin as if she were attempting to shed it. This wasn’t where she wanted to be, but after the assurances from the staff at the hospital, Willow had known she could afford to dash home and clean herself up before Gino woke up.

He had survived the operation, but when they’d wheeled him back to his room for recovery, she’d caught a glimpse of his ashen skin, the slight flutter in the sheet as his chest rose raggedly, and knew that it was far from over. How she hated that she’d had to turn down Tony’s offer; if she could just do the spell, Willow knew she could get Gino back, restore him to the robust man she’d fallen in love with, give him back the life he so badly deserved. But now it was in the hands of the doctors…and fate.

As she stepped out of the tub, the redhead heard the far off ring of the telephone, followed quickly by Lola’s hushed voice. She shook her head. She’d never met anyone who spent so much time on the phone. Every time Willow came back to the apartment, the other girl was sitting on the couch, the receiver tucked in her shoulder, usually giggling away at something the person on the other end had said. I miss it when it was me and Buffy, she thought sadly.

“Willow! It’s for you!”

The young witch frowned, wrapping the towel around her as she opened the door. “Who is it?” she asked, stepping forward to take the phone from her roommate.

Lola shrugged. “Some lady.”

“Hello?” Willow asked tentatively into the receiver.

“Miss Rosenberg?”

At the sound of the woman’s voice, the redhead froze, the chill overtaking her skin, blanketing her in frost. She didn’t have to ask who it was; she recognized the voice of Gino’s nurse from the hospital, had spoken to her endlessly after Buffy and Spike had left. The nurse was the one who’d said she would call if something happened while she ran home. That could only mean…

“Yes?” Willow asked, her voice barely audible.

“I think you might want to come back down to the hospital,” the nurse said, the professional soothe coating her words. “He’s awake, but he’s incredibly weak, and the doctor has downgraded his prognosis of his recovery.”

“He’s not…” They choked in her throat, and the tears sprang into her eyes. No. Not Gino.

“No. Not yet. But he asked for you. I think you should get down here as soon as possible.”

The nurse didn’t need to say the rest of it; Willow knew what she meant. Get down here and say good-bye while you can.

As she mumbled her thanks, the ice of her flesh changed to wildfire, singeing away the numbness, leaving behind a flaming shell that threatened to collapse around her. Denials echoed inside her brain…no…he can’t die…I can’t face that…I can’t lose him…ricocheting against her skull, crashing into each other, as she struggled to catch her breath. This wasn’t happening, didn’t have to happen, there had to be a way…

…and there was, but it would mean hurrying, getting there before it was too late…

…and it would mean risking the consequences if Tony had been lying to her about his spell…

…and it would mean facing an irate Buffy if she were to ever learn the truth…

…and it would be worth it…

…as long as Gino lived…

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

Irritable, Buffy glanced at the clock on the wall before letting her gaze slide back to the closed bedroom door, staring at it as if by doing so it would magically open and Spike would come strolling through, dressed and ready. He’d been in there for over an hour---a record for the vamp and more than enough time for Lombardi and the minister to long ago leave---and she had no idea what he could be doing that was taking him so long. Some pants, a shirt, a quick comb through his hair…five minutes tops. It wasn’t as if he could even be standing in front of the mirror to primp and get every peroxidized lock into place.

“Let’s just go already,” Anya whined from her seat on the couch. “The longer we wait, the closer I get to death.”

“I’m not just leaving Xander alone out here, not when he’s still…” Buffy bit her lip as she looked down at her friend, sitting in the chair, one arm on each of the overstuffed sides, staring blankly straight ahead. He hadn’t said a word since he’d arrived, just gone into this fugue state, brown eyes fixed in front of him no matter what direction he was turned in. She knew that for a fact; she’d watched Anya entertain herself for over ten minutes by moving his head and body around, and not once had his gaze faltered.

“Maybe you should try slapping him like they do in the movies,” the ex-demon offered. “That might make him snap out of it.”

Buffy just glanced at the other woman, the disbelief etched in her face, before marching to the bedroom. “Keep an eye on him,” she ordered as she opened the door. “In case he, you know, topples over. I’m going to see what’s keeping Spike.”

“Toppling would at least be something,” Anya grumbled, as she glared at her boyfriend. “You’d think he’d never seen you guys kiss before.”

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

He didn’t hear her come in, and it wasn’t until she pointedly cleared her throat did Spike finally look up, turning his head to see Buffy standing in the door of the wardrobe, arms folded across her chest, her annoyance obvious by the grim set of her jaw.

You’re still here,” he commented.

“Yeah,” she replied. “And you’re still in here.”

“Didn’t know you were waitin’ on me,” he said, swivelling back in the chair to face the open drawer in front of him.

“I need you to babysit Xander. He’s still playing coma boy.” Buffy stepped forward to stand behind Spike, peering over his shoulder to see what could possibly be absorbing his interest so intently. “What’re you doing?”

She watched as he extended a lean hand into the drawer, extracting a small box from among the assorted cufflinks and setting it down onto the dressing tabletop. “Found this when we first got here,” he said. “I’ve been sittin’ here debatin’ whether it would be a cock up if I dragged it out now.” Very slowly, he pushed it closer to the young woman.

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t the golden gleam of the jewelry that lay nestled in the black velvet. It had never occurred to her to wonder about rings; the initial shock of merely finding out about their “relationship” within the painting was enough to drive all other thoughts from her head. Yet, Spike had known, had probably found these that first morning when she’d been so hung over, and he’d never said. Not once.

Gingerly, Buffy pulled out the smaller of the rings and slipped it over the first knuckle of her finger, hesitating to slide it all the way down. It would fit, just like everything else in her wardrobe had fit, but putting it on seemed almost like she would be shutting a door on her old life, and throwing open another on this new one. Was she ready for that?

“Not like I’m really expectin’ you to wear it,” Spike said, the timbre of his voice uncharacteristically solemn. “Just thought…in light of…just got reminded it was there, that’s all.”

Buffy twirled the ring around the tip of her finger, watching as the lighting of the dressing room caught glints of the gold metal. “We’re going to go to the hospital first and check on Will,” she said slowly, knowing she was changing the subject but unsure as to what to exactly say about…this. “Anya said Giles is there, so I’ll be able to tell him about…” Her words trailed away, her discomfort in considering how she was going to explain this latest development to her mentor curtailing her speech.

His mouth pursed. “Right. Make sure Rupes knows it wasn’t my bleedin’ idea in the first place, ‘kay, luv? Though I still think it’s the best way to get the bastard out of our hair.” He watched as she slipped the ring into her pocket, watching it disappear behind the gabardine folds, and Spike ducked his head as he quickly rose to his feet. “You off to bugle boy’s after, then?”

Buffy nodded. “Since the talking approach didn’t work, I think it’s time we tried the fist-connecting-with-face approach.”

He grinned in spite of himself, the sudden image of his Slayer in battle dancing across his mind’s eye. He did love to watch her fight; too bad this had to happen during the day, or he would’ve been the first to get the best ringside seat. “Don’t worry ‘bout Harris,” he assured. “I’ll send him along as soon as he decides to rejoin the land of the living.”

Reaching up, the Slayer brushed her lips against his, pulling away with a small smile. “There’s supposed to be a blood delivery today,” she reminded him, a twinkle in her eyes. “Try not to eat the delivery boy.”

Spike’s grin faded as he watched her walk away, disappearing into the bedroom as she headed back out to meet a waiting Anya. His head turned, his gaze sliding to the box sitting on the dressing table, and slowly, the vampire reached out to pick it up. At least she hadn’t laughed…or thrown it back at him…not that he really expected that now, not after last night, but still…

Extracting the remaining ring from its velvet bed, he regarded the polished surface, rolling it between his index finger and thumb as his tongue tapped against the back of his front teeth. Not something he would’ve normally picked out, but then, his own tastes had always been a bit more…extreme, and definitely not suitable for someplace like this. Simple, elegant, it was really more Buffy’s style than his, and he chuckled as he suddenly realized that every bloke who ever had to pick out a wedding ring probably thought the same thing. With the smile still lingering on his face, Spike slipped the gold band onto his left ring finger and sauntered out of the wardrobe.

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

He was beginning to wish he’d brought along a book; with Willow still not returned from her run home, waiting around in the hospital was proving impossibly boring, especially since Giles barely even knew this Gino in the first place. Perhaps he should’ve let Xander and Anya come here after all; dealing with Spike, even in light of his current relationship with Buffy, had to be infinitely more interesting than this.

So inured to the hospital milieu, the Watcher didn’t even see the doctor when he passed in front of him, or hear the hesitation in the other man’s step as he paused in the hall, or observe his return to a place just beside his chair. It was only when the physician politely said, “Excuse me,” did Giles glance up and take notice.

“Yes?” he queried, a tiny line between his brows as he wondered just why he was being approached.

The doctor smiled, subtracting years from his grizzled face. “I don’t normally do this, but I just have to ask. You’re not Rupert Giles, are you?”

The Watcher’s frown deepened. “Yes, I am,” he replied. “Is there a problem?”

“Well, there’s going to be,” the other man laughed. “As soon as my wife finds out I saw you today and she wasn’t around to appreciate it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pad. “This is going to sound horribly trite, but would you mind giving me your autograph? My wife and I absolutely love your work. We used to go see you every week when you were still singing at the Scarlet Sunrise.”

Giles’ eyes widened behind his spectacles. “My…autograph…?” he asked, unconsciously straightening in his chair as he took the notepad and pen. “Really?”

“Sure,” the doctor said. “But you must get that all the time, a big name like you. Just make it out to Stan and Alice. Where are you performing now? I’d love to surprise the wife with a night out to see her favorite crooner.”

“The…” His mind scrambled to remember the name of the club. “…Rising Sun,” he finished. “It’s just temporary, though. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be there.” Giles handed the pad back to the other man. Fan? He had…fans?

“Guess I’ll just have to keep an eye out for when you go back to the Sunrise then.” The doctor smiled. “Thanks.”

Watching him walk away, the Watcher couldn’t help the smile that curled the corner of his mouth. It had been a long time since anyone had said anything about his singing, and he’d certainly been getting enough grief from Xander about it since they’d arrived. I must remember to tell him about this, Giles thought. Then we’ll see who has the last laugh.

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

He felt awful, and from watching the worried look on the nurse’s face, Gino knew that he must look awful as well. Breathing hurt, and the world seemed to weigh heavy around him as his black gaze flitted from one object to the next, unable to rest on any one thing but reluctant to close again. He’d spent too much time out of it since getting shot; the brief respite he’d had with Willow before they’d taken him to the operating room hadn’t nearly been enough.

Thinking of the slender redhead distracted him from dwelling on the pain, so Gino let his mind wander over the events of the past few days, enjoying the memory of her lips on his, the tender touch of her hand on his face, the smile that lit up her face when she laughed. The nurse had explained that Willow had just run home to freshen up, and that she’d already been called about his wakening, but he found himself missing her just the same, hoping she’d return quickly…well, wishing that she’d never left at all.

When it started, he didn’t know what it was, dismissing it as just another unfortunate side effect of the operation. The tingling began at his outermost extremities---toes, fingers---and slithered itself inward, livening his flesh with electric pulses that rose out of nowhere before wrapping him in heat. All of a sudden, Gino found his throat parched, and swallowed more than once in an attempt to rectify it. “Please,” he croaked, trying to get the nurse’s attention. “Could I have…water?”

He saw her nod, not even looking in his direction as she poured the liquid from the carafe, but as she held the glass up to his lips, her eyes narrowed, quickly scanning his flushed face as he gulped down the refreshment, her free hand reaching up to rest on his forehead. He almost jumped at the iciness of her touch. Why was she so cold? Or was it him who was so hot?

When the lights began to dance before his face, Gino knew that something was wrong, something was…different. This wasn’t normal; this wasn’t natural. He squeezed his eyes shut, eager to block them out, but the flashes of red and orange and white refused to leave, piercing the thin lids in pinpricks of flurry, causing his head to spin at dizzying speeds. His chest began to heave as his breathing quickened, lungs failing to expand properly as he fought to gain control of his air supply, and the nurse ran to the door in alarm, ready to call out for the doctor to come and help.

It ended almost as quickly as it began, and by the time the nurse had settled her hand on the doorknob, she heard the rasping cease, an audible silence now filling the room, and glanced back to look at her patient.

His eyes were closed, lashes dark against his skin, but the rise and fall of his chest confirmed that he hadn’t lost this last battle. In fact…she took a step toward him, already forgetting what she’d been doing at the door. His breathing seemed more even than it had since he’d been brought back to his room, deeper, more controlled, almost as if he were merely…asleep.

Quickly, the nurse strode forward, checking Gino’s vitals, head shaking as she looked at her watch and counted. Strong. Steady. Not the pulse of a man who’d been shot less than twenty-four hours before. The flush was gone from his face as well, and when she laid her thin hand back over his forehead, she noted with lessening surprise that it was now cool to the touch.

The young man was unexpectedly winning, that much was obvious, but she had learned long ago not to question the how or why of these things when they happened seemingly without the aid of medical science. Probably thinking of his girl, she thought with a smile. That’s what most likely did the trick. She’d been on duty when he’d brought her in earlier that week, and she’d been the one to call Miss Rosenberg when it looked like things were taking a turn for the worse for him. They were so gentle with each other, so attentive, that she’d almost been as upset as the redhead when she’d thought the young man was going to die. Whatever magic lies between them, she mused, it certainly did the trick…

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

From his window, Tony watched as Willow emerged from the phone booth across the street, the smile on her face clear indication that she’d gotten good news. Gino must be doing better, he thought. Good.

The spell had gone smoothly, both of them concentrating on not having it fail, albeit for different reasons. The redhead had been very adamant when she showed up on his doorstep that if hers didn’t work, there was no way she was going to help him with his, and Tony had accepted that. Certainly seemed fair enough, even if he did desperately need her skills to complete his own spell. Those skills had far surpassed what he’d been expecting, her focus and attention to detail alarmingly refreshing. Melinda never cared this much, he’d thought irritably. Bitch.

When he heard her footsteps in the hall, he darted away from the window, back to the table where his own ingredients were laid out, affecting an air of nonchalance that he hoped she would believe. He glanced up when she came in the door. “Well?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to keep up the pretense.

“The nurse said he just suddenly started doing better,” Willow said with a relieved smile and added shyly, “She thought it was because he was thinking of me.”

“I’m glad,” Tony replied, and in that moment, meant it. He was growing to really like the redhead; he hoped she would be able to escape some of the dangers of the painting long enough for him to enjoy having her around.

Willow crossed to the table and quickly scanned the items that lay across it. He’d said it was a protection spell he wanted to do, and based on what he’d prepared, it looked like he was telling the truth. There were some things she didn’t recognize---the jar of white powder could’ve been just about anything---but none of it looked lethal, so maybe she’d been worrying for nothing after all. Maybe this really could be a win-win situation. After all, she got Gino back. Why shouldn’t Tony be able to feel just a little bit safer while Buffy tried to figure out how to get everyone home?

The young musician kept his eyes averted from his companion as they laid out the candles on the floor, knowing that if she saw the gleam of excitement there, she’d know immediately that something was up. It was going to happen; he could finally stop worrying about what they would do if they found the safety. No more dreading going back to Sunnydale and facing Melinda’s wrath…no more fear that he’d get yanked out against his will. And all because of a gullible witch with a soft spot for a dark-haired bouncer. He had to refrain from actually shaking his head. Women…

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

The room was darkened, curtains drawn against the sunlight while the hospital staff let him sleep in the violence-induced coma that had brought him here in the first place. He’d never stirred, never moved, and the bruises that peppered his skin seemed to actually worsen with time. No one had ever seen a person beaten so thoroughly before; it was surprising to them that the man still lived at all, escaping with only the cracked ribs and massive damage to his face. His prognosis was unsure, but the longer he slept…the worse it got.

Outside of his immediate staff, he’d had no visitors, no one to stop by and check on how he was doing, no one to call and find out if he was OK. That surprised the young nurse who’d been assigned to him. Even the dark-haired man who’d brought him in had seemed uncaring as to his boss’ condition, and frankly, she’d found it slightly callous. He was lucky to be alive, and there should be someone out there who should care, even if it was just his employees. Briefly, she wondered what was so bad about him that they didn’t bother.

Humming under her breath, she held his wrist lightly, checking his pulse for the chart. His vitals seemed stronger today, which was always a good sign, but when she turned to check on his breathing, she was startled to see his grey eyes staring steadily back at her. “G-g-good morning,” she stammered, letting her mouth spread automatically into a welcome. “How are you feeling?”

There was a moment of silence as she saw him actually consider her question, mulling over the sensations that coursed through his body. “Alive,” Mack finally said, his own lips curling up to match her smile…

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

It had probably been one of his shortest conversations on record with the blond vamp.

“You all right?”

“Yep. Where’s Buffy?”

“Hospital.”

And that had been it. He had been out the door like a shot, tearing down the stairs to get as much distance between him and the den of iniquity as possible. Mack’s car was still waiting for him, so with a peremptory order to the chauffeur, Xander found himself winding through the streets, on his way to the hospital.

It was easier not to think about it once he wasn’t actually sitting in the same room it had happened. Living now in the world of weirdness, there was plenty of other oogedy-boogedy stuff to torment himself with, including Willow’s near-assault, how in hell he was going to keep Anya off the roster every night, and this whole get-what-you-want-then-die scenario they were all so desperately trying to avoid. After his encounter with Tony yesterday, Xander was convinced he was hiding something, that the little weasel knew what it was they needed in order to get out of here. Buffy will get the answers, he thought. Buffy always gets the answers.

The same Buffy who just married Spike? the little voice inside his head prompted. Didn’t count, Xander argued. Just like nothing else that happens in this dimension counts. It’s not real, and I’m just going to go on thinking that until we get back to Sunnydale. Life is much more pleasant that way.

As the car pulled up in front of the hospital, Xander caught a flash of red hair disappearing inside the front door, and hopped out of the back seat to rush after her. “Willow!” he called, legs pumping as he raced to catch the door before it closed.

She turned at the sound of his voice, and he was immediately struck by how relaxed she seemed, a faint smile on her face, the shadows disappearing from around her eyes. “What’re you doing here?” she asked as he followed her inside.

“Checking up on you, although you seem to be checked up OK.”

“Gino’s going to make it,” she said. “I called before I came over. They said he’s doing much better.”

“And you?” Xander prompted, his worry etched in a frown on his face. “How’re you doing?”

Her smile faded. “Buffy told me what you did to that Marty. You and Spike.” She paused, green eyes suddenly serious. “Thank you.”

He watched as she pushed open the door to the stairwell. He knew she wasn’t just thanking him for herself; somewhere in those two words, Willow was thanking him for Gino as well, and he realized that she was in deeper than he’d originally thought. Greatest desire…? Xander wondered. Does that mean Willow will be the first target?

When they stopped at the second floor, he hung back, watching as his friend pulled open the door and turned expectantly back to look at him. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked.

“I’ll be down in a sec,” he replied. “As long as I’m here, I should probably go up and check on Mack. See how he’s doing.”

Willow nodded. “This place would be lot easier to deal with if we all didn’t have jobs to worry about,” she commented as she gave him a little smile, heading out onto the hospital floor.

And what frightened him the most was…in spite of knowing the artificiality of being in the painting world, her observation didn’t seem all that wrong…

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

Giles sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “And Mr. Lombardi is absolutely positive this will successfully remove Mack as a threat while we’re trying to discover the identity of the safety?”

“Well, obviously he doesn’t know that’s why we don’t want to worry about Mack, but yeah, that’s pretty much his take on things.” In filling her Watcher in on the details of the morning, Buffy had decided to focus on the reasons and her boss’ determination for the impromptu wedding, not on the actual event itself. Play it down so as not to freak out the older generation, that was the plan. So far it seemed to be working.

“I suppose in light of our current situation, having Spike at the club as well will only increase our odds,” he mused.

“Exactly!” she said, pouncing on the idea. “More bodies means more eyes means more chances of seeing this mark.”

“Unless it’s covered up,” Anya commented. “People still wear clothes at the club. Well, until the dancing’s over.”

“I’m going to be so glad when we get back to Sunnydale,” Giles murmured. “Demons seem so much simpler all of a sudden.” The relief he felt when he saw the familiar red hair bobbing down the hallway was enough to pull him to his feet, followed almost immediately by Buffy. “Where have you been?” he demanded of the young witch as she approached.

Willow hesitated, uncertainty at the unforeseen harshness in his voice temporarily shadowing her good mood. “I…took a shower,” she said. “I called the hospital before I left. They said Gino was doing better.”

The Slayer pushed her way past the older man, crossing to stand before her best friend, as if to act as a shield from his verbal barrage. “How are you doing?” she asked gently.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Willow said, relaxing slightly. “I’m fine. I’ll be---.” She cut herself off when she spotted the nurse coming down the hall, brushing past Buffy to rush up to her. “Is he awake yet?” she demanded. “Can I see him?”

“He’s still sleeping,” the nurse replied. “But, yes, you can see him. I’m sure he’ll be very happy to wake up and find you there.”

Buffy watched as Willow followed the nurse down the hall, away from them and toward his room. “OK, that was a little shorter than I thought it was going to be,” she said. “But at least she’s not crying anymore. Bonus points for that.”

“I don’t understand why she’s so worked up over this Gino anyway,” Giles said, settling himself back down into his chair. “It’s not as if he’s real.”

“What’re you talking about?” Anya asked. “Of course, he’s real. As real as you or me or Buffy or Xander.”

“But he’s a fixture of the painting---.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re still not getting it, are you? The painting is just a door. This dimension is just as real as the one we live in, and the people who live here breathe, and go to work, and have sex just like we do. It’s just that, by making the portal, H’roven has started messing with their heads with these false histories and stuff. But that doesn’t make them any less real.” She looked at Buffy. “Do you get it? Or am I just being totally unclear here?”

“No, I get it.” And she did, although it didn’t make it any easier to accept. In fact, knowing that Willow had fallen in love with someone who was still going to be around after she left, that wasn’t going to go poof in some bit of magical smoke once they returned to Sunnydale, made the prospect of leaving him behind all that much harder. She’s just starting to get over Oz, Buffy thought. What will leaving Gino behind do to her?

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

At least it wasn’t raining this time. Knowing Willow was all right and probably spending more than a little time with Gino, Buffy had fled outside into the sunshine in order to collect her thoughts, waiting it out for her friends to come down and join her. It had been decided that they would go to Tony’s en masse---the more the merrier, she thought---although it would most likely come down to a one-Slayer show. She liked that idea. She was missing what being the Slayer back home had meant for her.

But that wasn’t where her head was now. Willow’s involvement with Gino had led to her thinking of her involvement with Spike, and she sat there now, the gold band in her hand, contemplating why the vampire had dragged the rings out now, what they might mean for him. She loved him, she wasn’t denying it anymore, but this seemed so absolute, and though the wedding was admittedly just a sham to maintain the peace within the painting, it still felt real…just like everything else here felt so real.

She didn’t want him to go; he had promised her as much. But how was he going to fit into her life once when they returned to Sunnydale? She had school, and slaying, and those commando guys to figure out. Where was Spike going to fit into all that? Wherever you let him, the little voice inside her head replied. Though it won’t be easy.

That almost made her laugh. Like her lovelife had ever been easy. At least she didn’t have to worry about this boyfriend losing his soul over her; that had to count for something…

A shadow fell across her hand and instinctively, Buffy’s fingers curled around the ring, hiding it, protecting it, shielding it, although from what she wasn’t sure. Glancing up, she fully expected to see Giles standing over her, that disapproving frown on his face, wanting the explanation that she had avoided providing inside. Instead, her hazel eyes widened at the slight form of a very beat-up Mack, his shirt hanging loose from his trousers, his face a mass of fading bruises.

“I suppose hoping you’re here to see me would be foolish,” he said, his voice surprisingly light, a small smile lighting his grey eyes.

“I came to see Gino,” Buffy said. At the slight furrow in his brow, she clarified, “He got shot last night.”

His confusion eased. “The perils of his profession, I suppose.” Mack glanced down at the empty space next to her on the bench. “May I?”

The last thing she wanted right now was to have to be dealing with her boss---ex-lover?---but there was no point in escaping the inevitable, so with a slight shrug, Buffy inched herself over to give him more room…not that he really needed it.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he said as he leaned back in the seat. “Although why you didn’t tell me yourself, I have no idea.” He regarded her silence with a level gaze. “Decide you couldn’t wait?”

“That’s got nothing to do with me and Spike.” His casual manner regarding her relationship with the blond vamp was really starting to piss her off, even if it was just part of this whole painting nightmare. “And he told me what you did. You ask me, you got off light. If it’d been me, you wouldn’t be walking right now.”

Mack laughed, not really the reaction she was looking for. “Ever the little spitfire, aren’t you?” As he twisted his body to reach into his back pocket, he winced, a grimace coloring his fine features just long enough for Buffy to catch it.

“What’re you doing out here anyway?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs in a bed, you know…healing?”

“I’m fine,” he asserted, pulling out the pack of cigarettes. “I’ve checked myself out. Xander’s up there settling things so that I can go home and get some real food.”

She snorted. “It’s not a hotel, Mack. You can’t just pick up and leave whenever you want.”

His grey eyes flickered to meet hers. “You can if you’re me.” There was silence as he slowly lit up, his thin fingers almost caressing the cigarette as he placed it between his lips. “I’m probably going to regret asking this,” he said as he turned his head to exhale away from her, “but…why Spike?”

It was a question she would’ve expected from Giles, and though she certainly didn’t think she owed this man any type of explanation, maybe if he understood, it might make it easier for the pair of them when they returned to work that night. If only she didn’t suck at trying to put it into words… “Because…we just fit,” she finally said. “He knows me, like nobody else does, like I don’t, and he’s not afraid to tell me what he sees. It pisses me off sometimes, but that’s only because he’s usually right.” Buffy smiled. “Being with Spike…makes me…better. Because I know I don’t have to worry about being judged. Because he gives me what I need, even if I don’t want it, or even if I don’t know it.” Her smile faded, her eyes wistful. “I’m not good at…the word thing. I just know…I love him. And he’s never to going to stop trying for me. And there aren’t many people in my life I can say that about.”

A long line of ash fell off the end of Mack’s cigarette, scattering on the ground before being picked up by the slight breeze and dusted away. “You never cease to amaze me, Buffy,” he murmured. “Spike is a very lucky man.” Standing, he dropped his cigarette to the ground, lightly tamping it out with the toe of his leather shoe. “I only regret I wasn’t the one who could give you that.”

The hospital door swung open behind them, and Buffy was relieved not to have to respond, almost smiling herself as Xander came walking up. “All sorted,” he said to Mack. “Doc’s not too happy about it, but I explained how he didn’t have any choice in the matter.” When his boss turned away, Xander glanced over at Buffy and rolled his eyes, both of them recognizing how silly that sounded.

“Well, we should probably get going if I want to make a clean sneak,” Mack commented, starting to walk toward the car waiting for them at the curb. “Good-bye, Buffy,” he said, his voice floating back to her.

Xander hesitated, looking between his friend and his painting boss, before she shrugged and nodded out to Mack. She knew he had obligations while they were here, just like she had to go into the Sun every night, and besides, he’d already had a shot at Tony and failed. This way, maybe he could keep an eye on at least one player in this fiasco. With a lopsided smile, he shoved his hands in his pockets and ambled after the other man.

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

She was tired of staring at it, tired of waiting for something in it to change, just fucking tired of the whole Tony mess. The painting had been back in her possession for almost a day now, the Injopa demons doing their job perfectly and finding it exactly where H’roven had said it was going to be, but Melinda had yet to enter it. She knew that by doing so, she would ultimately end up destroying it, and the stupid thing had cost her a fortune. That bastard Tony knew that, which is probably why he’d used it in the first place to get away from her. He knew she’d be hard-pressed to give it up that quickly.

Just wait until I get my hands on him, she thought. Putting me through all this misery, just because he thinks it’s actually over between us. Let me tell you, Tony darling, it will never be over, and once you’re back here in Sunnydale, I’m going to show you just how not over it really is. Except…

Except…the Slayer was still in the painting, and if Melinda went in now, she’d probably have to contend with her as well as killing the safety. Not that she was a chicken, but the female vamp certainly knew her limitations, and meeting up with the Slayer was not something she’d probably come out of alive. And none of this would be worth anything if she got staked before she could get out.

She knew that the Watcher had gone through the portal knowing how to destroy it, which meant that the Slayer probably knew by this point and was doing everything she could do to do it. It was still entirely possible that this could get resolved without any intervention on Melinda’s part. She would just wait one more day. If nothing changed in the painting before then, she would go in and take care of it herself. One more day…

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

Figures he’d live in the penthouse, Xander thought. Beats the hell out of your parents’ basement. Not that his apartment, just two floors down, was anything to sneeze at, but some guys’ fortune just really bit his butt. Betcha he never had to sell ice cream bars to snotty-nosed rugrats to pay for it either, he groused.

He hung back, watching as Mack turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. “There’s some issues I’d like to discuss,” the smaller man said, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he disappeared inside the apartment. “Why don’t you pour us some drinks?”

The interior looked like something out of the movies, and, as nice as Xander had thought Buffy’s apartment was, this one was miles ahead, displays of his boss’ wealth practically dripping off the walls. It was one of those rooms where he always felt like he should take off his shoes in fear of leaving prints on the carpet, but when he saw Mack just stride confidently into the living room before vanishing down a far hall, he decided to throw caution to the wind and walked in after.

Everything was cream…the walls, the carpet, the furniture…with the only displays of color coming from the multitude of artwork that hung on the walls. The center of one of the long walls was dominated by a large granite fireplace, with a bright landscape adorning the mantle above it, and for some reason, Xander found himself drawn to it, admiring the brilliance of the blue sky, the sharp lines of the buildings that lined the wide street.

Standing before it, a tiny line appeared between his brown eyes, and the young man tilted his head as he stared at the picture. Something about it seemed so…familiar, like he should know what it was or like he’d seen it someplace before. A book maybe? and almost laughed out loud. Yeah, right. But if not there, then where?

And then it dawned on him, and if he’d been physically able of kicking himself in the ass, he would’ve, that was just how stupid he felt. Of course, it looked familiar; he’d only seen that street every day of his life for the past eighteen years, had walked down those sidewalks with Willow, had felt that sun on his face.

It was Sunnydale…

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

The colors were just as vibrant as the one back in Giles’ apartment…scarlets that seemed to bleed off the canvas…blues that promised the heat of sunshine even in the dark of night…and there, in the corner, the signature of the artist who made it. H’roven. It was the way home, Xander was sure of it, which could only mean one thing.

Mack had to be the safety.

Taking a step closer to the painting, the young man bit his lip, the question on whether it worked on the same principle as the picture back in Sunnydale hanging foremost in his mind. If it did and he touched it, he should go back home, right? But then what about what H’roven had said about killing the safety? Was that all just smoke and mirrors to throw them off the scent?

There was really only one way to find out, except that meant more touchy-feely and after the events of the past few days, there was absolutely no way he was going to do that. Not without some sort of assurance he wouldn’t end up in yet another demon dimension.

First things first. Buffy needed to know.

With one last glance up the hall to confirm he wouldn’t be unfortunately interrupted, Xander marched over to the phone and picked it up.

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

She probably should’ve told him she was sitting there---called out or something---but watching him make the mad dash from the car to the front door, hunched over, blanket already steaming from the brilliant sunshine, had to have been the funniest thing Buffy had seen in ages. As Spike went flying past, she rose and followed him inside, the giggles escaping like butterflies into the breeze.

Watching him drop the blanket and begin stamping out the flames that licked at its hems, she smiled as she said, “If I had known you looked that ridiculous running through the streets of Sunnydale, I’d’ve made sure it was a spectator sport.”

Spike glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “As soon as you get a sunlight issue, Slayer, you can bet I’ll be the first one laughin’.” He straightened, kicking the wool cover out of sight behind a potted bush before sauntering toward her, wary of the light at her back.

“What’re you doing here?” Buffy murmured into his mouth, as his head lowered to hers.

“Do you have any idea how bleedin’ boring it is in the apartment?” he replied, his lips hovering millimetres from hers. “No telly, no one to talk to once Harris bolted, and the only thing on the radio was some daft quiz show.” His tongue darted out, pointedly licking the delicate curve of her bottom lip. “So, as soon as the blood showed up---and no, I didn’t eat the delivery boy, thank you very much---I called for the car and came over. Thought I might enjoy me a show while you beat up a certain bugle boy.”

The vamp kissed her lazily, sucking at her mouth with a lazy delight that reminded her of hot summer days.

When it broke apart, she lingered in the circle of his arms, resting her cheek on his chest. “I’ve got some bad news,” she said. “Mack’s awake and checked himself out of the hospital.”

“Bugger.”

She leaned back so that she could grin up into his face. “There is good news, though. He looks like absolute hell.”

Spike couldn’t help the answering smile, his blue eyes dancing. “You just made my day, luv.” He pulled away, being careful to remain out of the sunlight that shone through the glass door. “So, ready to go get some answers?”

“Actually, no. Giles and I decided it would be better if we all went as a team, kind of show him the force he’s got to reckon with.”

His head tilted. “Luv, you’re the only force he needs to be worryin’ about.”

For some reason, that made her blush. “Still, it’s already been decided. We’re just waiting for Willow to finish up with Gino.”

“How’s he doin’?”

“Better. At least, as far as we know. None of us have seen him except for Will.”

“Then I think we better go check on him, see how the big guy’s doin’.”

When Spike extended his left hand in invitation, Buffy’s immediate response was to slide her own into it, but as she did so, she felt her throat constrict as her gaze lit on the gold band adorning his finger. He was wearing the ring. She froze, staring up into his face.

The blond vamp’s own eyes flickered down at his hand. “If you haven’t had a chance to tell Rupes yet,” he said, “I’ll take it off.”

“No, he knows,” she replied faintly.

“Oh. Well, then.” He seemed to brighten and took a step, only to be jerked to a halt when she didn’t move. Spike looked back at her. “What?”

“I’m not wearing mine.”

It wasn’t a disavowal, more of a statement of fact, and the vampire shrugged. “S’ok,” he said. “Never expected you to.”

“Then…” She frowned. “I don’t understand…why…I mean, we’re not at the club…and Mack’s not here…what does wearing it prove?”

Using her grip as leverage, Spike pulled her into him, bending to brush his lips over hers. “Just that I’m not goin’ anywhere, pet,” he murmured before pulling her gently toward the stairwell. “Now, c’mon. Stop thinkin’ so much and let’s get to work.”

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

Buffy frowned as they approached Anya in the hallway. “Where’s Giles?” she asked.

The other girl nodded back in the direction of the nurse’s desk. “On the phone with Xander,” she explained. “Willow’s still in with that bouncer guy.”

“Let him know we’re going in to see Gino, ‘kay?” she asked as she began pulling Spike toward the right room. “We’ll just be a sec.”

“Sure,” Anya muttered. “Because visiting hours are so much more important than actually doing something to get out of this place.”

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

When the knock came at the door, Willow paused mid-pace, her heart skipping a beat. She’d known it was inevitable that one of the hospital staff would eventually poke his or her head in; she’d just been hoping to actually have some answers before that happened.

How am I going to explain this? she thought wildly. Gino doesn’t even understand, and if they start pumping him with questions, he’s just going to get even more confused. Oh, sweet goddess, how am I going to get out of this? She’d briefly considered running, but knew that wasn’t the answer. It never was. Well, maybe once or twice, but definitely not this time. She just couldn’t leave him like that, defenseless and bewildered. Nope, better to just face the music, even if she was going to hate the song.

Taking a deep breath, Willow walked over to the door, her hand shaking as it reached out to pull it open. Just a crack, she thought. Don’t let them see Gino isn’t in his bed.

“Hey, Will,” Buffy smiled. “Can we---?”

“Buffy!” The redhead threw open the door and grabbed her best friend’s arm, yanking her through the doorway. “Ohmigod, I’m so glad it’s you!” Her green eyes flickered to the other new arrival. “Spike?” she questioned, and then brightened. “Oh, Spike! Spike is good! Definitely can use Spike.” Reaching out with her free hand, she dragged him in, kicking the door shut behind them as she shoved them into the middle of the room.

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked, and then noticed the empty bed. “Where’s Gino?”

“OK, before you get mad or anything, I just want to say, I didn’t mean it. Well, I meant it, but not in the way it happened. Just smaller, not quite so huge-ish.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “But I can’t figure out how to fix this one, and the nurse will be by any minute, and she’s really not going to understand, in fact, she’ll probably run screaming from the room with the way this place works, and did I say I’m sorry yet? Except I’m not, well, except for how this is going to mess us up, and…” She gulped, swallowing air as she fought to catch her breath.

Buffy stepped forward and placed both hands on either of her friend’s shoulders. “Willow…breathe…” She waited a moment, watching the color return to the other girl’s face, before adding, “I’m going to ask again. Where’s Gino?”

Willow pointed. “In the bathroom.”

The blond vamp caught the Slayer’s nod, and ambled to the closed door, giving it a sharp rap with a single knuckle. “Gino?” he called out. “It’s Spike.” There was the sound of movement inside the adjoining room, followed almost immediately by the door opening and the burly bouncer filling the entrance. He was dressed in his tuxedo shirt and trousers, the bullethole and blood stains still decorating the shirtfront, but in spite of his rather daunting appearance, he stood erect, with a healthy glow to his face, and seemed remarkably free from pain.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Wow,” she said. “You’re recovering really well.”

Spike’s head turned to look at Willow, head low, gazing at her through hooded eyes. “Red…?” he queried, his voice almost a growl. “What did you do?”

“He was going to die!” she protested. “You saw him! I didn’t have a choice.”

“What did you do?” Buffy repeated.

The young witch ducked her face, fixing her eyes on the floor. “A healing spell,” she whispered.

“That’s not so…” the Slayer started, then stopped, realizing if that was all, her friend wouldn’t be so flummoxed. “Lemme guess. Side effects?”

“Ummmmm, no, not really.” Willow looked over at Gino, sighing. “You might as well show them. They’re going to find out sooner or later.”

Slowly, the bouncer’s fingers fell to the buttons, undoing them from the bottom one by one, allowing his shirt to fall open and reveal the expanse of his torso. He was broadly built, a light covering of dark, curly hair matting his muscled chest, while a thin line of the same ran down the center of his abdomen, disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

For a brief moment, Buffy found herself appreciating Gino’s physique, in a gazing-at-a-poster, that’s-kind-of-hot kind of way, when it slowly dawned on her, and her jaw dropped. “Willow…where’s his wound?”

“Exactly!” The redhead raced forward and ran her hand over Gino’s stomach, totally unaware of the boldness of her actions. “No side effects. Super effects. My spell worked way better than I thought it would. And I think the first time they come in to check on him, they’re going to notice the lack of a gaping hole, don’t you? I mean, this is definite lackage here. There is no way we can hide this, well, short of shooting him again, and I’m not even entertaining that notion.”

Buffy sighed. “We’re just going to have to get him out of here then.” She looked back at Gino. “How do you feel?”

For the first time, he smiled. “Like I could even put the screws on Spike here,” he replied.

The vampire laughed. “Yeah, he’s fine.”

“How much does he know?” the Slayer asked.

“Not very much.”

“But you’re going to tell me, right?” Gino interrupted, looking down at Willow. “You promised you’d be square with me.”

“And I will,” she assured. “But we gotta get you out of here first.”

There was silence as the group watched Buffy, her brow furrowed, her lip caught between her teeth. “We’re going to need a wheelchair,” she finally said. “Spike?”

“Got it.”

“And I’ll go talk with Giles and Anya.” She looked at Willow and Gino. “You two just wait here. Don’t let anyone in. We’ll be right back.”

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

The Watcher was waiting for her as they emerged from the room, and frowned as Spike went loping down the hallway. “There’s been a development,” he said as Buffy pulled the door shut. “A very good development, in fact.”

“Unless you know who the safety is, I don’t have time for this right now, Giles---.”

“We do. We think. It’s Mack.”

That stopped her from brushing past, and she gazed up at him, her hazel eyes wide. “Mack? How do you know that?”

“Xander’s at his apartment right now. Apparently, Mack has a painting of Sunnydale, signed by the very same demon we summoned. It must be the portal to return home.”

“Guess this means I don’t get to beat up Tony, huh?”

Giles shook his head. “I really see no point in furthering our attempts to interrogate him. We’ll confirm Mack’s the safety and take it from there.”

“Spike is soooooo not going to let me hear the end of this.” At her Watcher’s slight frown, she added, “He’s the one who wanted to kill Mack in the first place, remember?”

“Yes, well…” He glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. “Is something wrong in there?” he asked.

“Yes and no, but I don’t have time to explain it right now. I need you to distract the hospital staff while we sneak Gino out of here.”

“Sneak him…? Buffy, you really shouldn’t be moving someone who’s been so recently injured. It could only make things worse.”

“Trust me. That’s not going to be a problem. Can you do it?”

“I suppose so---.”

“Good. As soon as Spike gets back with the wheelchair, you go do your thing. When the coast is clear, have Anya knock twice on the door. That’ll be our signal. We’ll get him out, and then you can meet us back at our apartment, ‘kay?” She didn’t even wait for a response, just slipped back inside the room and closed the door silently behind her.

“I’ve got to learn to stop asking so many questions,” Giles murmured.

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

Anya pressed herself into the wall, eyes darting back and forth between the nurse’s station and the other end of the hall. Finally, something to do. So, OK, it didn’t really have anything to do with getting back to Sunnydale, except it kept the locals from suspecting funny business, but at least it was something. And Xander had found out who the safety was, or at least had a really good idea who it was, so that was progress on that front as well. Maybe she just might survive this hellhole after all.

She watched as Giles leaned against the counter, and was glad he had his back to her, because listening to him was certainly bad enough. His voice filtered back to her, and she could hear his flirtatious teasing as he spoke with the two nurses who were there, laughing as he reached for the pen and paper one of them was handing him. This was the best he could do? she thought. Turning those women into fawning sycophants, playing the act of rockstar, only without the rock. Except, as much as it turned her stomach, she had to admit it was working. They were totally concentrated on Giles, which meant…

A quick glance to confirm the remaining hallway was clear, and Anya’s hand reached behind her and rapped twice at the door, stepping aside to allow them to come through as it opened.

Gino sat in the chair, two blankets covering his form so that his clothes were barely visible, his head slumped down as if he was asleep. Behind him, Spike pushed him along, while the two women flanked either side. Anya stifled the giggle that rose to her throat as she watched them head quickly for the stairwell. The whole thing looked too much like one of those Laverne and Shirley reruns Xander was always making her watch. Wonder which one gets to be Squiggy? she mused.

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

Hunched over, his hands pulled distractedly at his dark hair, his lids closed as he listened to her speak. “I know it seems kinda weird, but that’s the truth, Gino. And I don’t know how else to explain it.” Willow bit her lip, the anxiety about how he was going to react a crystal shimmer in her eyes.

He looked up, his black gaze locking with hers. “How come I have all these memories then?” he asked softly. “I remember when you first started working. And I remember Spike training me on how the set-up at the club was. And I remember how Buffy was before she and Spike got engaged. If what you’re telling me is truth, how come I’ve got these?”

“It’s the portal,” she said. “That’s part of the magic of the demon who made it. He’s turned your head into scrambled eggs ‘cause we came through.”

“And your…magic…is why I’m jake now?”

Willow blushed. “Yes. But sometimes my spells go a little…wonky. Which is why your injury is completely gone instead of just healing quickly.”

Gino’s gaze flickered over the other occupants in the room…Buffy, curled up on Spike’s lap…the crooner, the one they said was their Watcher…the new dancer, except she wasn’t, she was another friend. “And none of what I know is true,” he said. “Harris didn’t…and Buffy’s not…and you and me aren’t…” It was all so much; processing it was hurting his head, but he’d demanded to know the truth. And here it was.

“No.” Her voice was firm. “You and I are.” She reached forward and slipped her hand into his. “That’s why we’re trusting you with this.”

“I know it’s a lot to deal with right now,” Buffy said. “But we’re your friends, Gino. We wouldn’t lie to you. Well, not anymore anyway.”

The dark-haired bouncer returned his gaze to Willow. “I can’t go back to work tonight,” he said. “How’s it going to look? And won’t the docs be looking for me?”

“You can stay here,” the Slayer offered. “We’ve got the extra room.”

“Sure,” agreed Spike. “Be nice to have the balance of power tipped in favor of the testosterone for a change.”

Willow leaned forward. “So, you believe me? You’re OK with this?”

Gino’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I got a choice in the matter? Besides, my gut is telling me to trust you, so who am I to question the only smart part of my anatomy?”

Giles straightened from where he was leaning against the sideboard. “Not to sound callous or anything, but now that this is sorted, we really should start investigating this Mack business,” he said.

Buffy and Spike exchanged looks before she turned to face her Watcher. “No offense, Giles, but it’s kind of been a busy day. Couldn’t we do this tonight? You know, at the club or something? I’m sure Willow could use the sleep…” She raised her eyebrows suggestively to the redhead, nodding her head almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, yeah,” the young witch exclaimed, feigning a very large yawn. “I’m exhausted. I wouldn’t be any good to anybody right now.”

Until this point, Anya had remained silent, allowing the others to relay the truth to the bouncer, but now, she jumped to her feet. “Are you all crazy?” she demanded. “What is it about this place and giving you all deathwishes? We’ve got to get out of here. Or have you forgotten about the imminent death clause?”

“Actually,” Buffy said, clambering off Spike’s lap to stand before her, “I’ve got a plan for that. If you’re interested.”

“Finally!” Anya shouted. “Someone’s taking action! Just tell me what to do. I’m all ears.”

Willow watched as the other women crossed to the other side of the room, Giles on their heels. She knew what Buffy was doing, and she loved her for it. What a great friend, she thought. I just wish I could tell her the whole truth about the spell and what I did with Tony.

“So…”

The sound of Gino’s voice brought her back from her thoughts, and the redhead faced him with a small smile. “So…”

“You going to head back to your place for a nap before work tonight?”

“No. I thought I’d have a nap…here.” Carefully, she stood and eased herself onto his lap, forcing him ever so gently to lean back in his seat to accommodate her slight form against him. “If you don’t mind.”

Spike hid his smile as he rose from his seat, giving the pair the privacy they didn’t seem to care if they had. Go for it, Red, he thought. Grab it while you can…

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

Closing the door behind her, she pressed herself back into its wood and watched as Gino stood before the full-length mirror, shirt off, staring at his reflection. His hand rubbed distractedly over the spot where he’d been shot, the skin unblemished, just as it would’ve been prior to his run-in with Marty, just as if nothing had ever happened. Although she had hardly expected the result she got, Willow wasn’t arguing with it, relieved at least that he wasn’t going to be forced to suffer needlessly because of her. And of course…that he wasn’t going to die.

“Buffy shouldn’t be too long getting your things,” she offered softly. “Are you hungry? Spike offered to order in for us, or cook, or something.” She paused, giving him a small smile. “We could get Chinese.”

“Nah, I’m jake,” he replied, his voice just as low, still absorbed in his examination.

When he lapsed back into the silence that had consumed him since hearing the Scoobies’ story, Willow bit her lip. This somber stranger had been occupying Gino’s body for enough time now for her to start worrying she had broken what connection they had achieved. He was so distant now, and though he had responded to her ministrations with his usual gentle courtesy, she couldn’t help the question that still remained in her head. Had she lost him by saving his life?

“You don’t hate me, do you?” She blurted the question before she could stop herself, her mouth miles ahead of her brain, and blushed as she recognized the desperation in it. Go ahead and confirm the fact that you’re a total geek, she thought. A graceless, needy, over-sensitive geek.

Gino’s head jerked as if stung, his black gaze jumping to meet hers in the mirror. “Why would you ask something like that?” he asked. “Look what you did for me. I’d have to be a real palooka not to appreciate it.”

“Just ‘cause you appreciate something, doesn’t mean you have to like it,” she said. “Like, I can appreciate that brussel sprouts are packed full of vitamin goodness, but that doesn’t mean I’m ever going to enjoy eating them.”

His face softened. “You’re not a brussel sprout.”

“And you’re not answering my question.”

“That’s because it’s a dumb question.” At her look of surprise, he sighed. “I thought you got it, Willow. I don’t know what guys you know, but I can’t just turn my feelings on and off like some light switch. I dunno, maybe that makes me a sucker. But just ‘cause you did what you did doesn’t mean how I feel about you changes.”

She allowed herself to take a step toward him. “But…it feels like my mouth is the only one that’s really working here. I mean, usually, you don’t have any problems talking to me, but ever since…” Her green eyes were hurt, shining in the artificial light of the room, and Gino dropped his own from them, returning to gaze at his abdomen in the mirror.

“I’m not wise about how you can do such stuff,” he said, the hypnotic quality of his voice almost a rumble between the walls. “All that hocus-pocus seems like it comes straight out of the movies to me. But you can. And if I thought you were special before, this only proves that.” In that nervous way of his she’d begun to identify with him, Gino’s hands began clenching at his sides, balling into fists so tight that his knuckles cracked, then relaxing, stretching, only to repeat the process. “I’m just a dumb mug trying to stay out of dutch when I can. I can’t do magic, or fight these monsters you talk about. Hell, it doesn’t even look like I’m going to have a job once Mr. Lombardi finds out about my disappearing act. How’m I supposed to rate with you in the face of all that?”

It was so ironic; after years of feeling inadequate herself, Willow had missed recognizing it in the dark-haired bouncer, hardly expecting to find here of all places someone who might understand what it felt like to be the shadow who was always there but never seen, the wallflower who always managed to be standing next to the sunlight that captured everyone’s attention. It wasn’t that he had all of a sudden decided not to like her anymore; it was that, all of a sudden, she was seeing how little he valued himself.

Crossing the room to stand behind him, she reached her arms around his waist, leaning her cheek against his back. “First of all, you’re not dumb,” she said. “And if you say that again, I’ll have Buffy kick you into next Tuesday.”

Although she couldn’t see it, Gino grinned at the sudden image of the petite blonde trying to take him on. They had mentioned how strong she was, but until he saw it for himself, there was no way he was going to believe it.

“Secondly,” Willow continued, “you don’t have a monopoly on feelings. Why do you think I did the spell in the first place?”

He had been avoiding thinking of that, avoided considering the implications the magnitude of her deed suggested. It meant more hope than he thought he could bear at the moment. It was just enough to believe that she liked him; to suppose the redhead might in any way reciprocate the depth of his feelings was more than Gino thought possible.

His dark head lowered, gazing down at the lightly freckled arm across his stomach, her thin hands spread against his skin, and gently began stroking the angular bones of her wrist. “You didn’t tell me what happens when you leave,” he said.

He felt her stiffen. “Because we don’t know. It makes sense to think you’ll probably go back to the way things were before we got here in the first place, you know…forget everything and resume life as normal.”

As Willow began to pull away, he caught her wrist between his fingers, turning so that he could look down at her, holding her still as his other hand reached up and pushed her bangs away from her eyes. “But I don’t want to forget,” he murmured.

She swallowed. “Neither do I.” The breath choked in her throat as Gino’s head came down, his lips brushing over hers in a velvet caress, the hand that had been touching her hair sliding around to the back of her neck as if by holding her, he could imagine that all of what she said wasn’t real, that she wasn’t going anywhere, that it could just be the two of them…in this room…in this moment.

“I don’t feel like sleeping,” Willow whispered as his mouth left hers, green eyes flickering up to gaze into his, drowning in the black pools as she began stepping backward.

Though he was easily twice her size, the dark-haired bouncer allowed himself to be guided to the edge of the bed, the lavender comforter sinking beneath his weight, his hands suddenly seeming too large, too clumsy in light of the atmosphere’s delicacy. When she leaned into him, breasts pressing against his bare arm as she sought another kiss, Gino felt the heat coming off her in waves, her hunger a palpable force, almost a third presence within the room. It was dizzying, and he had to fight the urge to just grab her, remembering how tiny she was in comparison to his bulk.

Willow broke off from the kiss, tucking her legs underneath her as she knelt on the bed next to him. “Why do you do that?” she asked softly.

“What?” The sudden dismay that perhaps he was hurting her, or upsetting her in some way, was crushing.

“I’m not a doll. I won’t break.” With the blood roaring through her head like the ocean during a storm, she slowly straddled his lap, pressing herself down into his growing erection, the walls of fabric the only barriers between them. “You don’t have to be afraid.” Her boldness surprised even her, but the fear that they would lose this intimacy far outweighed any sense of shyness that might have tethered her.

His fingers fumbled on the buttons of her blouse, and Willow reached up to place her own over his, guiding his movements as they undid the fastenings, her eyes fixed on his as if by doing so it would bolster his confidence. It seemed to be all Gino needed. When the fine lace of her bra was exposed, his hands slid under the shirt’s cotton to grasp the redhead’s upper arms, pulling her against him as their lips met in yet another kiss.

She had known he wanted her, could feel the proof between her legs, but the need in his exploration of her mouth was more than even their session outside her apartment…god, was it just yesterday? So much had happened since then, and yet, here they were, almost picking up where they had left off twenty-four hours earlier, just as if he had never been shot. A twinge of guilt threatened to extinguish the flame that was already igniting in her, and she quickly stamped it down, refusing to allow anything to spoil what could very likely be their only time together.

Willow met his kiss with matching ardor, arms reaching around him to hold him against her, to feel his chest rub against her nipples through the sheer lace of her underwear. The friction was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Loving Oz had been sweet and wonderful, but with the wolf always inside him, he’d seemed afraid of unleashing anything darker in their lovemaking and she had let him have that. Now, there was Gino, someone just as strong, just as gentle, but this time, she wasn’t going to let him off that easy. He would push as hard as she would allow him to; she only had to say the word.

Somehow, her shirt ended up on the floor, with her bra following closely after, and Willow felt his hands splay across her back as his mouth worked expertly over hers. There was no hesitation now---both of them knew exactly where this was going---and their tongues danced, swallowing down the other, getting drunk on the sensations that rippled through their bodies. She was wet, could feel her panties begin to soak through her trousers, and was just starting to wonder what he was going to do about it when she felt the world tip around her as Gino twisted and turned, lowering her back onto the bed without breaking the rhythm of their kisses.

He seemed so much bigger in that position, shoulders blocking out the light from overhead, weight pressing into her hips, that for a moment, Willow wondered just what she was doing. It was fleeting though, as his mouth left hers and began raining butterfly kisses over her face…the tip of her nose, the contour of her cheekbones, the arc of her brow. The restrained power within those movements was enough to reassure her just who this man really was, and that she would be totally safe with him…no matter what.

When his hands came up to stroke the hair out of her face, her eyes fluttered open, her breathing ragged, as she stared up at him. “I couldn’t ever hate you,” he murmured. “Not my Willow.”

The tiny smile she offered in response was sad, the knowledge that she’d be leaving this behind all too much real, and she swallowed hard, turning her head to catch his palm with her mouth, running her tongue over the callouses that defined them. Don’t think, she ordered herself. Just be.

Gino groaned at the feel of her mouth and slowly, deliberately, lowered his free hand to his belt, undoing the buckle before he felt her fingers join his. “I can do that,” she said, completing the job, sliding inside the waistband of both his pants and his boxers to ease them over his hips, allowing his erection to spring free. When she grasped his cock, stretching her fingers to curl around his girth, it was an echo of her earlier touch, forcing the hiss through his teeth. He hesitated for a moment, then grabbed the initiative, letting his hands alight on her own trousers as the redhead slowly pumped up and down his length.

Seeing her lying naked underneath him tightened the band around Gino’s chest, forcing the air to expel from his lungs, devouring her with his black gaze before sliding his body alongside hers to stretch out on top of the comforter. Willow rolled onto her own side, her touch never leaving his erection. “I’m not going to have to play teacher again, am I?” she teased, the smile on her lips and the light in her eyes telling him how untrue she knew that statement to be.

The dark-haired bouncer smiled. “I’ve already told you,” he said. “I’m a man who works with my hands.”

She giggled. “It feels funny doing this on Buffy’s bed.”

“Do you want to stop? Or move?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “She knew what she was doing when she got rid of the gang. And I want this too much to stop now.”

Gino leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised.

“I know.”

Their kiss deepened, and he pressed her back into the bed again, holding himself on his forearms as he shifted his weight over her. He wasn’t sure what to expect---to think that she might’ve been a virgin was horribly naïve, he knew, especially considering how knowledgeable she seemed in touching him---but as he slowly pressed into her wet pussy, Gino was surprised at her tightness, feeling her expand with excruciating suction to accommodate his hard cock, the eddies of pleasure it was creating in him driving him to go deeper…to thrust harder.

She never made a sound, just matched him kiss for kiss, clung to his bare shoulders with those tiny but powerful hands, and waited for him to bury himself within her. When he felt her pelvis pressing against his, he stopped, holding himself there, knowing in that moment that the woman beneath him, an intricate mystery within her own simplicity, owned him.

Willow was the one to initiate the movement, pulling herself slightly away to force his cock to begin the outward trip, and Gino picked up on the rhythm…long, slow strokes as he thrust in and out…allowing himself to almost but not quite pull all the way out before beginning the long descent back into her wetness. His tongue licked at her earlobes as her breathing grew more and more ragged, the sweat starting to run in rivulets down their chests, easing the friction between them, each drag across his coarse hair sending electric shocks through her nipples and down into her clit.

Neither wanted it to end, but as their pace quickened, their mouths growing more desperate, the fires inside them swelled, burgeoning beyond their control, and Willow felt the first spasms begin rocking her pussy, tightening around his cock as he buried his face in her neck. When they exploded throughout her body, the shivers became uncontrollable, and she bucked underneath his mass, thrusting upward as if to meld her hips to him.

“God…Gino…” she panted, and grabbed his head to bring his mouth to hers, crushing him to her in a last-minute attempt to swallow him whole.

As he came, his body froze, and he almost forgot about trying to keep his weight from crushing her into the mattress, his arms tremoring as if he’d been lifting weights for hours. The world tunnelled around him, and Gino sucked at her mouth, gulping her air in order to replace that which had escaped him, his head swimming against a scarlet tide. No amount of fantasizing could’ve prepared him for this; Willow’s need engulfed him, and he willingly gave himself over to it.

He was in heaven.

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

When he heard the door open and close, knowing she was home, the corner of Spike’s mouth lifted. Bugger if Buffy wasn’t domesticating him; here he was thinking of this as home already.

“Get everything?” he asked when she appeared in the doorway.

“Yep. Are they…?”

He nodded. “That was a good thing you did for them, Buffy. Red needed that.”

The vamp watched as she crossed to the bed, flopping back against the black satin. “You think?” she said. “’Cause I’m not convinced.” She propped herself up on her elbows and gazed over at Spike, sprawled in the chair, his mug forgotten in his hand. “It’s so fast, and she’s still trying to get over Oz. I just…it’s just not Will. She’s acting so…reckless. What if her spell had backfired? I mean, look at what her will-it-so spell did.”

“Yeah, it opened the door for you and me, pet.”

“And had half of Sunnydale’s demon population on our heels, too, remember? I want her to be happy, smiley Willow again, but I don’t think she’s being smart about this. She’s just not thinking.”

Spike’s head tilted, his blue eyes steady. “So?” he said. “If you ask me, it’s about bleedin’ time. Red needs to start listening to other parts of her body other than her head for a change.”

“Since when you are Mr. Insightful on Willow’s lovelife?” Buffy asked, eyebrows lifting.

“Since I bothered to listen to her dish about Gino,” he retorted. “When was the last time you two had a heart to heart? A real heart to heart?”

Biting her lip, the Slayer sat up, turning away from his knowing eyes. She hated it when he was right, especially about something as personal as her friendships. It had been far too long since she and Willow had had a serious girl talk. Oh, sure, they’d had tons of light moments, laughing and joking, but did she really know what was going on between her and the dark-haired bouncer?

Spike sipped at his blood. “Don’t be fussed ‘bout it, luv,” he soothed. “Red knows you’ve got other things to be frettin’ on.”

“I know.” She sighed. “She’s a better friend than I am.”

The vampire watched as the young blonde rose from the bed and began prowling around the room like a caged animal. The events of the day were still wound tightly within her---whether she realized it or not---and the prospect of unleashing it brought a familiar hardening to his crotch. “So,” he drawled. “We’ve got…what? Three, four hours to kill before work?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said distractedly. “You think we’ll be able to get into the other room before then?”

Remembering the moans he’d heard during the Slayer’s absence, Spike shook his head, a wry grin on his face. “I wouldn’t count on that, pet.”

She stood in front of the wardrobe and pulled open the doors, grimacing at the sight of the various costumes, plucking at a boa that dangled below. “You think I have any real clothes in here?”

“Dunno. But I’d wager that leather bit would be quite fetchin’ on you.”

She rolled her eyes at his licentious smirk, pulling open a drawer only to immediately frown. “What are these?” she asked, pulling out a pair of small metal balls strung on a strand of tight cord.

Spike grinned. “Nothin’ you need,” he said. “Trust me.”

“But what are they?”

“They’re called ben wa balls.” He stood and sauntered to her side, taking the toy from her grasp to roll them around in the palm of his hand.

“Do I want to know what they’re used for?”

His sudden salivation prompted him to suck at his teeth, and with the toy nestled in his fingers, Spike slid behind Buffy, one arm hooking around her waist, the other---the one with the ben wa balls---easing its way under the waistband of her pants. “Some birds use ‘em for pure enjoyment,” he murmured, his mouth on her ear. “Like this.”

Buffy felt the cool metal roll along her skin as the vamp reached beneath the satin of her underwear, and gasped as first one, and then the other, found its way into her pussy, guided into place by Spike’s long fingers. Once they were inserted, though, he didn’t remove his hand, instead allowing his thumb to circle her clit.

“But that’s not what they’re actually for,” he continued, his voice a melodic rumble down her spine. “Once they’re in,” and he nudged them inside her, pressing the nearest into her vaginal wall, “you’re supposed to just hold ‘em there while you go about with your daily business. Strengthens the muscles.” Very slowly, his fingers slid out, dragging the string along with them, the balls stickily dropping into his palm. “But like I said, luv, you don’t need them.”

Using the edge of the wardrobe to steady herself, Buffy watched as Spike tossed the toy aside, then leaned forward to rummage through the open drawer. “Is this your idea of killing time?” she teased, her voice husky.

“Got a better idea?” The velvet dangled from his fingers. “I’d say we deserve some down time.”

“That doesn’t look like down time, Spike. That looks like a blindfold.” But she didn’t move as he slid it over her eyes, tightening it against her golden tresses.

“All in good fun, luv.” She heard him move away and started to turn, only to be stopped when he spoke again. “Stop,” he ordered, the command in his voice unmistakeable. “Stay there.”

“It’s not like I’ve never been blindfolded before,” she said, the tingle of excitement still shading her voice. “Giles uses this technique all the time when I’m training.”

“If I find out Rupert does what I’m about to,” Spike responded from somewhere on the other side of the room, “I’m goin’ to start sittin’ in on those sessions.”
Her heart was pounding in her chest as Buffy focussed her senses on the vampire and his unknown actions, straining to decipher the confluence of sounds that floated to her ears. A drawer opening…fabric rustling, maybe silk?...the drawer sliding closed again. So he’d taken something out, but what?

“Trust me.” He was at her side again, so fast she hadn’t even heard him, his cool lips grazing her earlobe before trailing down the side of her neck. Whatever he’d retrieved was no longer in his hands because they both came up to undo her blouse, pulling it from the waistband of her pants as he slipped it over her shoulders, his teeth nibbling on the top of her shoulders as they became exposed to the air.

Buffy sighed, her head tilting to the side to allow Spike better access, her breath catching as his fingers caught her nipples in a teasing pinch. Her skin was crawling with individual licks of fire, parting only to allow his icy touch passage as he travelled downward, releasing the button on her trousers, pushing them down over her hips to allow them to crumple into a heap around her ankles. Even she could smell her excitement now, and the vampire’s unmistakeable growl as the scent assailed him sent shivers across the surface of her back.

His body didn’t move, but somehow, his hands disappeared for what seemed like eternity. “Spike…” she whispered.

“Ssshhh,” he responded, more of a breath than an actual word. “Don’t you trust me…?”

“…yes…”

She waited, knowing he was there but ignorant of what he was doing, and was about to speak again when the first tickling began across her collarbone. It was barely there, just a wisp really, but it knew its path, and floated down, between her breasts…under the right and then over it…repeating the pattern in reverse on the left. That was when she decided it had to be a feather, some toy he’d rummaged from the trunk most likely, and gasped as Spike’s hand reached around the inside of her thigh, pulling her legs apart, allowing the feather to dance down the tender flesh there, sending an array of goosebumps skittering across her skin.

When the moan escaped her throat, she felt his hand rise and gently cover her mouth, turning her head slightly so that his mouth was back at her ear. “Mustn’t disturb our guests,” he murmured. “So good little Slayers stay quiet, understand?”

She almost started to speak, then remembered and nodded instead, rewarded very quickly with his chuckle. “Just remember that when I’m buried inside you, luv,” he said.

When he moved away again, Buffy wanted to scream in frustration, the absence of even the feather too much for her aching body to bear. She held her breath, trying to hear him, wondering how, in spite of so many training sessions with Giles where he’d purposely blinded her, she could still feel so completely helpless, unaware of her surroundings. Must be the excitement, she reasoned. Focus and calm yourself down.

Those instructions were for naught when he spoke again. “Follow my voice,” he said, and she turned, concentrating on the baritone as she stepped forward…once…twice…and on the third, made contact with the edge of the bed. “Lie down.”

She did as she was told, wondering not for the first time why she was agreeing to this, knowing without having to answer what the truth of it really was. The first time they’d played a game like this, it had been about Spike and his power. She knew that and had let him do it anyway. This time was different, but just how different, she knew she was only about to discover.

The satin beneath her back warmed as she waited, unable to stop squirming as the anticipation built within her skin. When she felt his cool fingers hook around the sides of her panties, tugging them downward, her hips lifted off the bed in an attempt to expedite their removal, only to be pushed down again by a firm hand once her underwear was free. “Don’t move,” he said, and the mattress sprang back as it was relieved of his weight.

Nothing was keeping her on the bed. All she had to do was sit up, untie the blindfold, and this game would be over. But Buffy didn’t want to do that. The expectation of what he might do next was driving her over the edge of reason, her sense of touch suddenly attuned to greater heights than when was slaying, and the young woman wanted only to feel Spike’s cool body pressed against hers, his cock thrusting in and out of her willing pussy, grinding away with that power only he seemed capable of controlling. Though she knew it would come---he had said as much---he was making her wait for it, building her need until it blinded her, rising in her throat until there was no room for air.

When it came, it wasn’t what she was expecting, a cool hardness that lacked the texture of the vampire’s touch. It pressed lightly against her pussy, sliding down to outline her swollen lips in slippery juices, and then sliding even further, along the crack of her ass, nudging at it with a hard insistence that both shocked and thrilled her. Lightly, she pushed back, feeling it penetrate just ever so slightly, only to feel a familiar tongue flick over her clit. The realization that not even Spike was that good of a contortionist, that it was some toy---a vibrator of some sort?---pressed into her ass only seemed to fuel the fire, and she reached down and entangled her fingers in the blond curls they found, holding him in place while he chewed and licked her pussy.

He didn’t allow the toy to move as he slid up her body, keeping it lodged so delicately in her ass, rocking it just enough to send tremors of electricity through her pelvis. When his lips met hers, she tasted herself on him, and realized that sometime while she’d been waiting, he’d removed his own clothing so that his cool musculature now conjoined with hers. She ached to turn into him, but feared that by doing so, his response would be to force her to wait even longer for satisfaction so she stayed where she was, allowing him to ravish her mouth with his tongue, feeling her juices coat the toy as they ran down the crack of her ass.

Gently, Spike rolled her onto her side, her back to him, and she felt his cock begin nuzzling her ass, replacing the toy. His arms slid around her, one around her breasts, the other on her pussy, and buried his face in the curve of her neck, lapping at the sweaty tang of her skin. As he felt her body relax against him, he began pressing himself forward, coating his erection with her juices and opted instead to slowly push into her slit, his long fingers playing with her clit.

Without being able to see, Buffy lost herself in the sensations…the steady thrusts into her pussy, each one just slightly more forceful than the last…his mouth still sucking at her neck, numbing that one spot to anything but his tongue…the inferno in her clit as his touch became more insistent…

When her orgasm came and her inner walls squeezed around his cock, Spike allowed his demon to emerge for the first time during their lovemaking, gently sinking his fangs into the reddened patch on her neck, feeling her pumping blood seep past his tongue, driving him over the edge so that he spasmed, shooting deep inside her with a final powerful thrust. Her body twisted in his embrace but he held her firm, refusing to allow her to escape the sensations as they overwhelmed the both of them.

By the time the shudders had subsided, the blond vampire had returned to his human visage and was lapping at the tiny scarlet pinpricks that adorned her neck, easing the slight sting that remained with his tongue. She was limp in his arms, her eyes closed, the unmistakeable purr in the back of her throat his only indication that she was even still awake. Carefully, he reached up and undid the blindfold, tossing it aside with a quick flick of his wrist.

Buffy blinked against the sudden illumination, and decided instead to keep her eyes closed, nestling back against his sculpted chest. She knew what he had done, but knew also it wasn’t about the feeding, having experienced how much more intense her orgasm was feeling the fiery sucking, connecting to her clit with some flaming invisible string. If that had been what it was like for her, what on earth did it do to Spike?

“Thank you,” she heard him murmur into her skin, and smiled, feeling the luxury of sleep beginning to overtake her. No, she thought between clouds of down, thank you…