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

It was the softest blanket she'd ever felt, the fleecy texture like lamb's breath on her cheek, and it seemed like the last thing in the world she wanted to do was step out of it. Sleep, she thought drowsily. Just five more minutes, please, mom…

"Waken."

The single word wrapped itself around her head, squeezing like a vise, forcing her to open her eyes and blink against the sudden brightness that seemed to be beaming down directly onto her face. The softness was gone, and instead Willow felt numb, her muscles frozen from icy disuse, the groan of pain escaping her lips as she let her lids flutter back shut.

"What's wrong?"

"Why isn't she waking up?"

"If something's happened to her…"

Their voices were a strident dissonance bouncing around in her skull, and feebly, Willow fought to lift a hand to her forehead, fingers dancing across its expanse as she struggled to reconcile the pain. Why were they all yelling? What could possibly be so important that she had to wake up for it? What difference could five more minutes make?

"Willow…"

And the softness seemed to return, a gentle caress of her cheek that promised puppies and chocolate, if only she would open her eyes…

"Wake up, Willow…"

She knew that voice, the deep baritone wrapped in caramel, concern shining through its inherent gentleness. It brought back memories of soft kisses…strong hands…feelings of safety…and her lids drifted back up, blinking once…twice…then squinting into Gino's worried face.

He seemed to be waiting for something, his black eyes scanning hers, before his lips softened into a small smile. "Don't scare us like that," he chastised.

"Why? What'd I do?" Her voice was barely there and impossibly high, but the relieved laughter that came from around her brought a wan smile to her face.

"Well, that's spell number one," she heard from somewhere behind her head.

"Somehow, I don't think Willow's quite ready for the other spell just yet." The quietly modulated response came from her feet, and she slowly turned her head to see Giles standing at the end of the couch.

"What spell?" she asked.

"The reversal of the protection spell," he clarified.

That's when it all came back to her…the scene at the club as she watched Tony at the end of the alley…the sensation of falling as the magic hit her…Her brows crinkled, a gesture that almost hurt as the headache began to recede. "What did he do to me?" Willow queried. "Am I OK?"

"You're just jake," Gino soothed, pushing the hair away from her forehead. "He just made you sleep for a bit. But you're fine now."

"How'd…you…?" Her gaze slipped over his shoulder, and she saw Tony's bruised face looking down at her, the apology unsaid in his eyes.

"Your boyfriend's persistent," the musician commented. "And he's got a mean right hook."

The last made Gino blush in shame, and Willow laughed out loud, in spite of the pain that went rocketing through her brain. "I don't suppose…I could…have some water?"

"I'm on it," Xander said from somewhere else in the room.

"We don't have much time." That was from Buffy, and the young witch lifted her head to see her best friend standing on the other side of the couch, Spike hovering just behind her. "Mack's going to have figured out by now that Xander lied, and he's going to come gunning for us. I'm sure of it."

"How long was I out?"

"Too long," Gino replied.

"But you're back now," Buffy said. "And as soon as you're up for it, we're going to do the reversal of Tony's protection spell. Then, it's hello Sunnydale and so long creepy painting world."

The shrill ring of the telephone split the air, and the room went silent for a moment as everyone just stood there and stared at it.

"It's gotta be Lombardi," Buffy said on the third ring. "Everybody else is here."

"It could be Mack," Anya offered. "Checking to see if you're here before he comes over and kills you."

"Whoever it is, they're not worth a toss in the gettin' home scenario so I say just ignore 'em." Spike looked around at the group, waiting for someone to disagree with him.

Nobody moved. The ringing went on…once…twice…three more times before finally settling into silence. "Well," Buffy said, her chest relaxing as she breathed out a sigh, "where were---?"

And the peal of the phone returned, announcing the caller in a discordant voice that couldn't help but capture their attention again. It continued as before, ending after the sixth ring, but this time, when it finished, there wasn't a sound anywhere in the room.

It took only seconds for the telephone to begin its song again, and the frowns and confusion were worn by all. Anya rolled her eyes. "This is ridiculous," she muttered, and marched over to pick up the receiver. "Hello?" The room seemed to be holding its breath while they waited for the young woman, watching as she turned to face Buffy, holding out the phone in front of her. "It's for you."

"Like I didn't already know that," Buffy said under her breath, and crossed the distance to take the receiver from her friend. "Hello?"

"Hello, Buffy."

She couldn't help cringing at the sound of his voice, his sanctimonious tone sliding over her skin like a snake wrapping itself around its prey. She felt Spike come up behind her, his hand in the small of her back, almost as if he was holding her up, and took a deep breath. "Hello, Mack," she replied.

"That was a very interesting…show you and your husband pulled at the morgue."

"No more interesting than your little knife play."

He laughed. "I think you would win the award for theatricality, my dear." There was a pause. "And for surprises. Imagine my astonishment when I returned to my apartment and found both my most trusted employee and my favorite painting gone. I can only assume that has something to do with you. The timing is just too fortuitous for it not to." She heard the slight hardening in his voice. "How do you do it? Promises of sex? Offer him your body in lieu of loyalty to me? I warn you, Buffy. Xander's not a man who'll suffer being made a fool of, once he realizes your heart is with that…monster. He will turn on you."

"And that just shows how little you know him," she retorted and instantly regretted letting him get to her. "What do you want, Mack?" she asked, slightly more evenly.

"Oh, the usual. Fame, fortune, a happy ending." His chuckle seemed to ooze from the phone. "Oh, wait. I've already got those."

"If you don't have a point to calling, I'm---."

"There's a point. There's always a point." She could almost see him standing there, the receiver in those too-manicured hands, grey eyes gleaming. "Since you were the one who suggested it earlier, I just wanted to say Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday."

"Huh? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I just wanted you to know…I haven't forgotten your presents."

The line went dead in her hand, and Buffy frowned as she returned the receiver to its cradle. "What did the wanker want?" Spike asked, head leaning forward to gaze into her face.

She shook her head. "I don't know," she replied slowly. "But if I had any doubts about him being a danger to us, they are now completely gone. The man's wacko."

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

The red tip of his cigarette flared brightly in the darkness as he sucked at the filter, inhaling the fragrant smoke before letting it out in a directed stream. The nicotine was soothing, settling his excitement as his grey eyes fixed on the building down the road, and Mack carefully knocked the ashes into the gutter, watching them scatter in the slight breeze.

There were others inside---the voice of the woman who'd answered the phone had sounded vaguely like the new girl from the club---but frankly, he didn't care. Choose to associate with his enemies and suffer the burn along with them.

He could already begin to smell the acrid fumes as they began to drift down the street, and briefly wondered when the first signs of color would become apparent. His instructions had been explicit. From the bottom up. There could be nowhere for her and her demon lover to run. This time, though, no one would be coming to her rescue, no alarms would sound; one carefully placed phone call had ensured that help would arrive too late for the building and its occupants to be saved. Still, anything could happen, and Mack certainly wasn't going to miss the show. Not now. Not after everything the bitch had done to him…

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

At least the room wasn't spinning anymore. Willow sat on the edge of the couch, her head between her knees, wishing that the nausea would just go away and wondering why if it was just a sleeping spell, she felt like such crap. She never felt like this when she woke up, maybe a little fuzzy but certainly not like she'd downed a swimming pool of margaritas the previous night and was suffering the hangover from hell.

Gino's arm around her shoulders was comforting, but suddenly too heavy, and she shrugged him away as she straightened. "Do we have everything we're going to need to reverse the spell?" she asked.

Giles nodded. "Tony assures us that he can make do with whatever is in the kitchen." He frowned as Spike stiffened, suddenly alert, blue eyes staring at the front door. "Is something…wrong?" he asked the blond vampire.

"Be right back." He was out the front of the apartment before anyone could say anything, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

"So once it's done, what's going to happen then?" Willow's green eyes were worried. "From the sounds of it, Mack doesn't sound like he'll just drop by for a friendly cup of tea and a stake through the heart."

"We don't know," Giles admitted. "We're still working on that part---." His head whipped around as Spike came flying back, jaw locked, face tense. "What is it?"

"Gotta get outta here," the vampire ordered, hurrying to the kitchen only to come up short as Buffy stepped out.

She saw the tightness in his cheeks and immediately straightened. "What's wrong?" she demanded.

"Don't know why the bastard called, but at least I've sussed out what the hell he's plannin'. And we've gotta get everyone out of here. Now."

"Why?"

"Y'know how he wanted me to burn with him? Well, looks like he's decided to add you onto the funeral pyre, luv. The bleedin' building's on fire."

It only took her a second for that to register, Mack's words---Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday---finally making sense, the phone call his last attempt to flip her the bird before sending her off to meet her maker. Her hazel eyes grew cold, automatically going into Slayer mode. He doesn't know who he's dealing with, she thought grimly. No way am I going to get beaten by that little creep.

"What exit options do we have?" she asked.

"Stairs should be OK if we move now," Spike said. "It's in the basement, but it's goin' pretty good. No tellin' how fast it'll move."

Buffy turned to face the rest of the group. "You heard him, folks. Time to saddle up. Xander, you get the painting. Guard that thing with your life. We can't afford to lose it at this point, not when we're this close." Her gaze settled on the still-pale Willow sitting on the couch. "Are you OK to walk?" she asked her friend.

Tentatively, the redhead stood, only to reel from dizziness. Gino's hand shot out to her waist, steadying her. "I've got her," he said.

"Gino and Spike'll drive us over to Giles'," the Slayer continued. "We'll do the spell over there, and then figure out the killing Mack part." She turned to face the musician who had come out of the kitchen behind her. "You're with me."

"Hey!" Buffy's head jerked over to where Melinda still sat, tied up in the chair. "Highly combustible vampire here. What about me?"

For a second, the blonde looked as if she was contemplating leaving her bound, then sighed. "You promise to behave?"

Spike strode forward and began undoing the other vamp's fetters. "'S'ok, Slayer," he said. "I'll keep an eye on her."

She nodded. "Let's move."

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

The smoke was already beginning to curl up the stairwells as the group filed down, Xander and Anya in the front, Spike taking up the rear. Heat from the fire below scorched the walls, making them too hot to touch, sending burning flushes across any exposed skin and speeding their steps even further. Between the growing warmth and the spreading smoke, it was getting increasingly difficult to breathe, the humans in the group holding hands over their mouths, as if by doing so it would filter out the bad stuff and leave only clean air in its place. Not for the first time, Spike was grateful he didn't need to worry about oxygen. Now if he could just stay away from the fire…

With one floor still to go, Xander stopped, gazing down at the flames that were already eating away the next flight. "I think we made a wrong turn at Albuquerque," he commented tightly.

Buffy pushed forward, leaning over the railing to discern the extent of the damage, only to straighten with a frown on her face. "There's another stairwell," she said. "Follow me."

Backtracking, she jogged down the hallway of the apartment building, wondering why no one else seemed to be in such a hurry to get out. Probably already had the rest of them evacuated, she thought bitterly. Mack just wanted to trap me and Spike like two little mice and watch us go up in smoke. She pushed the thought aside, though, along with the feelings of anger it incited. Can't think about that now. Focus on getting everyone to safety.

From the back of the group, Spike watched the Slayer run along, her golden hair flying along behind her, lean muscles working in elegant accord. When she concentrated like this, she reminded him of a finely honed weapon, a blade so sharp that the merest whisker of a touch would penetrate flesh to the bone, and his unswerving pride in her capabilities seemed to swell. That was his girl up there. His Slayer. And the phrase seemed almost like a song in his ears.

When Buffy opened the door of the second stairwell, the black smoke came rolling out in swirling waves, sending a ripple of coughs down the line of the group. Holding her hand over her nose, she dashed quickly inside, then darted back, staring down at her friends. "OK, the smoke's pretty bad in there, but as far as I can tell, there's no fire yet, and stairs actually where they're supposed to be is a huge bonus for us. We're going to have to make a break for it. Just keep your head down, your mouth covered, and meet up at the cars. Got it?"

The next two minutes were a blur. As each of them emerged onto the street, faces blackened from the smoke, lungs screaming for fresh air, they each went off into their own little world, pulling themselves together, trying to separate themselves from the growing inferno at their backs. The two least affected were the vampires, and, grabbing Melinda's arm, Spike yanked her over to the nearest car, shoving her into the backseat with a graceless thrust, before slamming the door shut. Behind him, Gino came staggering up, a coughing Willow in his arms, his own face a dark smear in the moonlight.

"You OK?" he asked.

Spike nodded. "How's Red?"

"Red's fine," Willow said weakly, lifting her head away from Gino's chest.

Stepping back into the road, the blond vampire tilted his own head back, staring up at the building as the flames began to lick up its side. It was a good job, for an arson attempt; he'd certainly torched enough places in his time to know the hand of a master when he saw it. But something about it didn't sit right with Spike. Something was wrong. Something was…

…here.

Very slowly, Spike's head swivelled, staring through the smoke down the road. He couldn't see it. He couldn't smell it. But he knew. It was there. Out there. And it wasn't expecting him.

"How long will it take you to do the reversal spell, Red?" he asked, the word slow and even, his blue eyes fixed on the nothing ahead of him.

"Once we get everything set up, only a couple minutes. Why?"

"Get Tony and do your thing. Now." There was no room for argument in his tone.

Willow frowned as Spike began to walk away. "Where are you going?" she called out after him.

"Got a spot of unfinished business to take care of," he said, his voice drifting back to them on the waves of smoke that hung in the air.

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

His own cigarette seemed redundant in the wake of the black smoke that was now filling the street and Mack tossed it to the ground, looking down at the sidewalk as he ground the glowing tip out with his heel. The fire was now visible as it travelled up the side of the apartment building in sheets of orange and red, crawling through windows, sending tinkling shards of glass flying to the cement as pane after pane shattered from the heat. In the velvet blackness of the night, the club owner couldn't help but think that it was truly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

His head was still lowered when he heard the crunching on the road, and his eyes were fixed in a frown as he looked up, peering into the dusky fog that separated him from the blaze. For some unknown reason, Mack felt the hair on his arms prickle, and a surge of adrenalin began pumping through his veins. Ever so slowly, his hand stole into his pocket, playing with the knife he kept sheltered there, calming himself with its steely promise of death.

The smoke was starting to burn onto his pupils, and his foot stepped back, edging him away from the encroaching danger. Probably time to go, he thought. I've certainly seen enough. But his body refused to respond, riveting itself to the ground as the black form became outlined against the mist in front of him, thickening to a steadily approaching solid mass…with eyes gleaming golden through the smoke…

…Spike…

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

Her lungs burned from the smoke she couldn't help inhaling, but her eyes were clear, scanning the street around her as she mentally ticked off her Scooby list. Xander and Anya huddled near under the streetlamp, checking over the painting for damage…Melinda looking pissy in the back seat of one of the cars…and there was Gino, with Willow in his arms, striding purposefully toward an arguing Giles and Tony. Buffy frowned, her gaze making the sweep again. No, she hadn't been mistaken. He wasn't there. But he had to be, Melinda was safe and sound. Where could Spike have gone?

The Slayer's head swivelled to stare back at the door from which they'd just emerged. Was it possible he'd gone back inside? But for what? There wasn't anything they needed in there; everything and everyone of importance was out here, on the sidewalk, looking like extras from the Towering Inferno. There was no logical reason for him to have left the group.

She laughed, a harsh rasp that was drowned out by the roaring flames behind her. Since when had Spike ever been logical? Better to just skirt the area, see if he was just hidden by the smoke.

Tony's hand on her arm stopped her. "I need my stuff," he said, reaching for the bag that was strapped over her shoulder.

"What for?" Her brow was furrowed as she just stood there, watching as he took it away and began rummaging around inside.

"We're going to do the spell now."

Buffy looked up to see Willow and Gino behind the musician, the young witch's green eyes too-bright in the dusky smoke. "I thought we were waiting 'til we got to Giles' place."

"Spike said to do it now."

That's when it clicked, and the Slayer's head jerked as she stiffened. Only one reason he would say that. "Which direction did he go?" she asked tightly.

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

Even through the smoke, his eyes glittered, tawny orbs hardened against the sight of the man in front of him. "Shoulda known you wouldn't want to miss the show," Spike said. "Though I would've thought you'd get better seats, a big hotshot like yourself."

"Don't you ever die?" Mack commented, refusing to allow his fear of the monster to permeate his voice.

He shrugged. "Did it once. Don't really fancy doin' it again." Mack couldn't help but let his gaze flicker over the vampire's shoulder, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the other man, and Spike grinned. "Scared Buffy might be makin' an appearance?" he taunted. "Don't worry. This is between you and me."

"Does that mean…?" The club owner stiffened. This wasn't worth it if Buffy was the only one to die. Although he'd wished them both dead and out of his life, his priority had been on the blond Englishman; if circumstances reversed it on him, Mack was going to be pissed off as hell.

"It means I should've killed you when I had the chance." Spike's tone had hardened, knives dripping from his voice as he took a step closer. "Though I got a feelin' I'm goin' to enjoy this a helluva lot more considerin' what happened at the morgue."

They stood and stared at each other, grey eyes locked with golden, and Mack fingered the knife in his pocket. Though his skill with the blade was considerable, to do any real damage he would have to be up close, and frankly, he didn't doubt that the blond demon couldn't take him in such proximity. Yet…he just stood there, not moving, his tongue flicking out to run along his fangs, almost as if he was waiting for something.

"How does it feel having to get saved by Buffy?" Mack queried, deliberately keeping his voice light. "She's the only reason you're not a walking Picasso, you know."

"Feels like she loves me, but you wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?" Spike's head tilted in amusement, watching the other man squirm in discomfort. "Makes your gut crawl, doesn't it? Like thousands of tiny worms gnawin' at your entrails, knowin' pretty soon, they'll make their way to that black lump you call a heart, only to chew it up and spit it out."

Mack laughed, a short, sharp bark that cut through the smoky air like glass. "That's very poetic, Spike," he commented. "Is that the kind of bed talk you share with Buffy? Drown her in your awful poetry until she falls asleep?" He saw the tiny flinch in the vampire's jaw, and his smile widened. "I believe I've struck a nerve," he said gleefully. "Please tell me it's the same one I sliced open on your face. I love opening up old wounds."

His charge at him was instinctual, a leap through the cloudy smoke based on hatred and the desire to hurt. In the same instant, Mack's body curled to duck, the air around him suddenly thick, charged with some unknown energy, and he froze as the electricity jumped the distance between the two men, striking Spike in the chest with a force strong enough to knock out a small elephant, sending the blond sprawling onto the pavement.

Mack's grey eyes widened, looking down at his own body in amazement before lifting to view the vampire on the ground. He had no idea what had just happened, but whatever it was, it had saved him from what had appeared most likely to be a fatal attack on Spike's part. His breathing slowed as he began to regain control of his racing thoughts, and the realization that the other man couldn't hurt him began slowly to sink in.

"Definitely struck something," Mack murmured, taking a cautious step forward. "Question is, what?"

Spike stumbled to his feet, the burning in his chest easing slightly as he fought to ignore the pain. "It ain't gold," he growled, and stood his ground, watching as the other man took yet another step, refusing to give him the satisfaction of retreating. C'mon, Red, he thought impatiently. I don't have all day here.

"I have to admit," Mack was saying, continuing his approach, "this certainly qualifies as the strangest day of my life. Men rising from the dead. Strange forces that turn on you when you try to attack me. And, you know, I got a hunch, you and Buffy know something about it, Spike. So tell me. What's the wire on it? Why don't you just go ahead and kill me? I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes. Even if they are yellow."

He was within striking distance now, and Spike saw the muscles in the other man's arm tense as his hand gripped whatever he was keeping in his pocket. Probably that bloody knife, he thought, but stayed his ground, chin high, eyes only slightly narrowed as he quickly surveyed his surroundings. He knew---could feel---it was just the two of them. Whatever men had done the deed with the fire were long gone, most likely too afraid they'd get caught bang to rights for the crime. The only ones here were Spike and Mack…

And that was when he picked up the second heartbeat, his senses alerting to the stealthy approach of a third, this one most definitely human. It was behind him, although not directly, more like off to his right someplace, and its steady pace meant it would be alongside him in mere seconds. Not goin' down without a fight, he thought. Even if it fries me…

"Please tell me you brought marshmallows," came Buffy's voice from the smoke as she stepped up, arms folded across her chest. "I hate letting all this pretty fire go to waste."

Mack's feet stopped at the sight of the young blonde, her face smudged from the smoke, and felt his anger rekindle. "I can see that I was right. Black really doesn't become you."

She ignored his gibe and turned to look at the vampire, noting the singe marks on his chest where the magic had hit him. Hazel eyes darted up to meet his, and she frowned. "You should've waited," she scolded.

"He pissed me off."

"Yeah, well, he's good at that." Gingerly, Buffy's fingers fluttered over the burn, a heated balm that immediately brought his cock to attention. "Doesn't hurt too much, does it?"

He shrugged. "I've had worse, usually from you."

She smiled, and realized for the first time that he was wearing his vampire visage. "Were you going for the if-I-can't-hurt-him-I'll-scare-him tactic?" she teased, reaching up to touch the ridges lightly.

As soon as her fingers met his forehead, Spike slipped back into his human mask, his unconscious step drawing him closer to her thin form. "Someone had to have a plan," he murmured. "And you were too busy leadin' the troops."

"Excuse me." The pair's eyes turned, looking at the third party in the mix, his anger contributing to the red flush in his face. "As touching as this little scene is, it's making me just a little sick to my stomach here." The knife came out of his pocket, catching the silver rays of the moon as it cut through the smoke. "You should've just stayed inside, Buffy. It would've been much cleaner that way."

The blade came sweeping forward, and though her instincts twisted her body to the side in more than enough time to avoid it, she felt Spike's body cross in front of hers, taking the edge of the weapon across his abdomen, the scent of fresh blood instantly mingling with the acrid smoke.

Mack danced back, his face tight. "How gallant," he snarled, his composure falling to pieces before their eyes.

"And stupid!" Buffy exclaimed, straightening and pulling the vampire to face her. Her gaze drank in the deep slash. "Stop playing the hero in this, Spike," she ordered. "If I can take on a group of rabid vamps, I think I can stay out of the way of one Napoleon wannabe."

"Sorry if my gut tells me to protect you," he growled, pressing his hand over the wound to staunch the flow of blood. "You try arguing with instincts, see how far you get."

"Soooo not the time for this," she warned.

"Oh, a lover's quarrel," Mack oozed. "Please tell me this is just for me."

"Shut up!" Buffy barked, her eyes blazing as she glanced over at the club owner. "You are the last person I want to hear talking right now."

He actually seemed to be contemplating her words, muscles twitching as he stared back at the pair of them. "No," he finally said. "You seem to be forgetting, I'm the one with the power here." The blade of his knife flashed in the moonlight.

"And what power would that be?" she replied. "You haven't been able to kill us, Mack, in spite of numerous attempts. You haven't even been able to seriously hurt us, for that matter. A cut here, some arson there, and we're still standing in front of you, still alive, still together. And you? You. Are very. Much. Alone." She took a step toward him, gaze steady as she watched him begin to retreat. "It's really quite sad, actually. Everything you've tried---having us killed, trying to make yourself some Spike shish kebab, the little bonfire of your vanity back there---has been just a big pile of backfire on you, 'cause instead of taking him away from me, you've only pushed us closer together. Know why?" She waited, almost as if she really expected him to respond, before continuing. "Because now I don't have any doubts. Not that I had many, but what was there? All gone. Poof. And all thanks to you."

"You two deserve each other," Mack spat, stumbling slightly as his heel caught on a loose stone on the sidewalk.

Buffy continued her slow advance. "Don't be expecting a party, though. I get cranky when people try to kill me. Kind of destroys the trust, you know?" She opened her mouth to go on, ready to keep talking for as long as it took, when Mack suddenly convulsed, his head thrown back, mouth agape, arms locked at his sides.

They both felt the power in the air, and the Slayer stopped in her tracks, even going so far as taking a step backwards, to watch as the magic poured over the man's slight body, wrapping him in an orange mantle for what seemed an eternity before dropping him to the ground. She looked down at his semi-conscious form, noting the knife that now rested on the ground at his side, and slowly smiled.

"You want the first punch?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at Spike.

"Ladies first." He watched as she turned back to the painting's safety, the concentration etched in her brow, and grinned as she leapt forward, leg extended, foot connecting with Mack's jaw in a crunching blow that sent his head reeling against the sidewalk.

Buffy rolled to safety a few feet away and beamed over at Spike. "God, did that feel good."

The vampire watched as the other man struggled to his feet, staggering sideways as he tried to walk away. "This is just goin' to be too easy," he growled, and tackled Mack's legs, sending both of them in a sprawling heap of various body parts, his fist throwing blow after blow while his other hand maintained a grip on the man's shirt so that he couldn't squirm away. He felt the muscles bruise under his power, bones crumbling into shards as sharp as the broken glass behind them, and stopped only when Buffy's hand settled on his shoulder.

"You're going to kill him like that," she said.

His lips twisted into a smile. "Thought that was the whole idea."

Her gaze was steady. "I can't let you kill a human, Spike. You know that."

"And I can't let you kill one, either, Slayer, so guess we're at a stalemate." He sat back on his heels, Mack's unconscious body between his thighs.

"This is my job."

"We've had this discussion before---."

"And you know the rules!"

Both of their tempers were starting to rise, and Spike deliberately took an unnecessary breath, showing her he wasn't going to take her bait. "Are you goin' to stake me if I do it?" he asked.

The question took her off-guard. "What? Why would I do that?"

"That was the condition of the rules, your rules, I might add. I break one, you stake me. So I'm askin'. Would you really stake me if I did this?"

Buffy bit her lip, frowning. It seemed like forever ago since she'd made up those damn rules, and this was really the first opportunity that had come up for her to test them. No killing humans, she'd said. She'd really meant no feeding off them and killing them in the process, but hadn't actually said that out loud at the time, not realizing that they would ever be placed in this situation. And staking Spike for doing what would essentially be a good thing for the Scoobies? Even she couldn't rationalize that away.

"No," she finally said, "I guess not."

"Well then." Spike smiled. "Problem solved."

She grabbed his wrist before he could turn back to Mack. "Why do you want to do this?" she asked.

His face softened. "Truth? 'Cause he pissed me off. Thought he could hurt you and I wouldn't do anything about it. So tastes a little like revenge to me." His head tilted as his blue eyes bore into hers. "Does that change your answer?"

Buffy's grip relaxed just ever so slightly. "No."

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

It practically leapt out of his hands, causing Xander to jerk forward in an effort to keep it steady. "Whoa, Nellie," he said, his eyes widening as he looked down at the painting, its colors all of a sudden seemingly to glow as if from within.

Anya peered over his shoulder. "I'm going to say Mack's dead," she said.

"So, what now?" Xander asked, looking over at Giles as he stood guard by the car.

"We touch it and go home," the older man replied. He straightened as Spike and Buffy emerged from the smoke in the road, arms around each other, the blood still dripping down the vampire's front from the slash Mack had made. "Are you all right?" he asked, his worried gaze darting between the pair of them.

"I can honestly say I've been better," Buffy replied, and immediately noticed the huddle on the sidewalk, Gino cradling an unconscious Willow in his arms as Tony leaned back against the streetlight. She rushed forward. "What happened?"

"She passed out after the spell," the bouncer said. "I think it was just a little too much for her."

Buffy glanced over at the trumpet player. "You didn't do this, did you?" she accused.

"No!" His denial was vehement. "It was the reversal. It sucked everything out of her to do it."

"He's right," Giles interjected. "She was fine until the spell was completed. She's just…drained."

The Slayer looked around at her friends. "I can't believe I finally get to say this, but it looks like it's finally time to go home," she said. "Who wants to be first?"

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

One by one, the Scooby gang touched the painting. Giles went first, in spite of Anya's protest about going in reverse order of arrival, followed immediately by Tony and Melinda, then Xander…Anya…and finally Spike. Before laying his hand on the canvas, he looked back at Buffy and smiled. "See you on the other side."

When it was just Buffy and Willow left, Gino finally spoke, saying his first words since the Watcher had disappeared into a rainbow of light. "She's not going to be able to touch it on her own," he said, brushing the red hair away from her still-closed lids. "Someone's going to have to help her."

"I can do it," Buffy replied, her voice equally low. "That's how Spike came through with me in the first place. If I hold her, she should go back with me."

His black eyes met hers. "Let me do it."

There was a pause. "You don't have to---."

"I want to." His gaze returned to Willow's face. "All I've been able to think about since I found out about you guys is what was it going to be like around here without her. Would I remember her? Would it even be worth it? And I thought, maybe, if there was a way for me to go back with Willow, then I'd do just about anything to make it happen."

"It might not work, you know," Buffy said gently. "This is the world you belong in."

"No, Willow's is the world I belong in." Gino looked up at the young blonde. "Besides, as crazy as these past few days have been, I gotta admit, they've been the best I can ever remember. You and Spike are the best friends I've ever had. The way I figure it, what've I got to lose?"

She smiled, in spite of herself. "Well, you'd definitely make a good Scooby," she said. "Finding Tony was a trick and a half. I don't think I've thanked you enough for that."

He ducked his head. "Nah, that was just dumb luck."

"I'll take any kind of luck I can get if it gets results like that," she shot back with a grin. Leaning forward, Buffy kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Here's hoping I see you in Sunnydale…"

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

The first thing she did was call Giles.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his worry peeking through the exhaustion in his voice. "How's Willow?"

Buffy glanced back at the sleeping form of her roommate. "Will's out like a light," she said, barely able to stifle her own yawn, "and I got a feeling I'm going to be hitting the hay as soon as I get off the phone with you."

"Xander called. He and Anya arrived back at his place safely."

"What about Spike? Did he come through chained up in your bathtub?" She couldn't help the smile on her face as the image flashed across her mind's eye. Maybe they would be able to find another use for those chains…

There was a pause. "Buffy…"

She knew immediately something was wrong. "What?" she demanded. "Tell me he's OK, Giles. I didn't go through all this for him not to be OK."

"I don't know how he is. He's…not here."

She felt the chill settle over her bones. "Where else would he be? He was living with you when we went through." Though she fought the instinct, Buffy couldn't help but let her eyes slide to the window, and the sunlight streaming through it. "You don't think…"

"I'm sure he's fine," Giles insisted. "This is Spike. You of all people should know that he's very resourceful. I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up on my doorstep any minute now."

"I guess he does know where the blood train is," she mused, still not convinced, but not willing to consider the alternatives at this point. "Will you have him call me the instant he shows up?"

She just knew he was rubbing his eyes behind his glasses as she heard him sigh. "Of course. Get some rest, Buffy. It's been an incredibly tiring day."

As she hung up the phone, the images of Spike catching fire in the California sunshine tumbled through her head, melting into a collage of blond hair, black leather, and blue eyes, before settling into dust. It couldn't end like this; what happened to the happy ending she was supposed to get? The fates wouldn't be so cruel as to give her Spike, only to take him away again in a sick sense of irony, would they?

She shook her head. Nope. Not going to think of it like that. Sleep. That's what she needed. And she'd be up as soon as the phone rang. Because he would call. He would come back. He was supposed to never leave.

He promised.

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

There was no joy in either girl's shoulders as they walked slowly through the campus, books tucked in their arms, faces bereft of smiles. Though the occasional person greeted them as they passed, their responses were perfunctory, their true thoughts elsewhere.

"I can't believe how much I have to make up," Willow said. "But at least they're all buying the virus story. I've gotten so much sympathy from my professors, it's scary."

"At least they know who you are," Buffy groused. "When I went up to get the missed work, I had two different teachers ask me if I was even in their class."

"Ouch." The redhead bit her lip. "What happened with Riley?" she asked gently. "I saw that he cornered you while I was talking to Dr. Walsh."

"I think it was more of an ambush," she complained, the all-too recent memory of their conversation still annoyingly fresh in her mind. "I decided to play the grown-up card and tell him I couldn't see him anymore."

"And?"

"And he asked why."

"Did you tell him about Spike?"

"Yep. Not fun, let me tell you, especially since it wasn't that long ago I was telling him Spike didn't even exist and that I'd only pretended to be engaged to yank his chain." Buffy sighed. "I told him Spike and I had had a fight which was why I was pretending not to know him, but now we're back together, so obviously Riley and I couldn't date anymore."

"He was OK with that?"

"No. So I switched decks and starting playing my I'm-a-flake cards."

"And…?"

The Slayer rolled her eyes. "He said he was from Iowa and he liked corn." She bristled when Willow stifled a giggle by covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm glad my lovelife amuses you so much, 'cause it wasn't exactly a walk in the park for me."

The young witch deliberately frowned, pursing her lips together in an effort to keep the laughter at bay. "This better?"

"Much. So anyway, I said I thought I was more of the snowflake variety---."

"Iowa gets snow."

"Thanks. Know that now. Somehow I forget all these little details when my mouth starts going." Buffy shook her head. "After that, I just stopped tiptoeing around the whole issue, said it was over and walked away. How much you wanna bet I fail psych now?"

They strolled along in silence, and Willow had to physically bite her lip to stop from making a comment about letting Riley go so quickly. They had been back for over a day now, and still no sign of Spike. Buffy wasn't talking about it, but the redhead knew the pain she was going through, could see the disappointment in her friend's face every time anything regarding the painting came up. But she also knew that hope still flared there, and maybe it was a good thing the Riley thing happened when it did. It proved to Willow at least just how serious Buffy was about the blond vampire.

Spike wasn't the only one missing in action. When they'd finally woken up that morning, the first thing the young witch had done was ask her friend what had happened those last few minutes before everyone came through the painting. It was then that she learned about Gino's attempts to come with them, and her hopes had been running rampant ever since she'd opened her eyes in her own bed. The first thing she'd done was check to see if there was a phone listing for him, and when that turned up nothing, she'd gone to the campus directory. Still nada. It didn't necessarily mean he hadn't made it, but as the day wore on, Willow's expectations were lessening, her mood sinking, until now, she wasn't sure what to think.

"Y'know what I was wondering?" Buffy mused, her face thoughtful. "The whole heart's desire thing of the painting. I mean, I know I got mine and I'm pretty sure Spike got his, and you were on the happy train there for a while as well, but what about Giles? And Xander, or Anya? How come they didn't get anything?"

"I'm not so sure about Giles," Willow offered. "I think if it had played out, something would've happened with the singing stuff."

"Because he's secretly dreaming of being Bing Crosby?" She shook her head. "Thank you so much for starting those nightmares again."

"And Xander's easy. He was so miserable about everything that happened, I don't think he would've recognized his heart's desire if it came up and slapped him in the face with a dead fish."

Buffy almost smiled. "OK, Miss Insightful, what about Anya?"

There was a pause and then Willow shook her head. "Nope. Not a clue. One of the great mysteries of life, I guess."

The library loomed in front of them, bringing with it the brakes on any flights of fancy, returning them to the all-too real world of college and homework. Neither girl really wanted to be there, but the pressures of needing to get caught up dictated their actions, forcing their feet to close the distance between them and their academic future.

It took a second for Willow to notice when Buffy halted, hazel gaze fixed curiously on the library's front doors. The redhead turned her head, following her friend's line of sight, and realized then that it wasn't the building's entrance that had captured her attention.

He looked impossibly large sitting on the bench just outside the door, hands folded awkwardly in his lap as he watched the students come and go. Every few seconds, those hands would ball into fists before stretching wide, only to return to their folded position in front of him.

Her heart was pounding as she slowly walked up to him, books clutched tightly against her chest, her throat suddenly dry, and stopped just a few feet away. "This seat taken?" she asked, all efforts to make it sound casual consuming her every spare bit of energy.

Gino's head jerked up at the first sound of her voice, and the look of relief that creased his face was only matched in magnitude by his smile. "You got no idea how glad I am to see you," he said.

Willow slid onto the space next to him. "I think I've got an idea."

"How do you feel? You look tired. Aren't you sleeping?" His black eyes searched her face, one hand automatically coming up to push the hair off her brow, only to hesitate halfway, faltering as he debated its appropriateness, before settling back into his lap.

"Too much sleeping," she replied. "Twenty-four hours worth. It's just exhausting getting back into the swing of things." Her own reach was tentative, a thin hand resting on his denim-clad knee. "What about you? Where've you been?"

"Trying to find you. Do you have any idea how hard you are to find?"

She frowned. "Me? At least I'm in the campus directory. According to every phone listing in Sunnydale, you don't exist. Where do you live?"

"An apartment near where I work. But I got a roommate. Everything could be in his name."

Buffy spoke up for the first time since approaching Gino. "It's not…Spike, is it?" she asked, unable to disguise the hope in her voice.

He shook his head. "Nah. Some little guy named Jonathan. I tried asking him some questions when I first got here, but half of what came out of his mouth didn't make any sense to me, so I just gave up." He looked at Willow. "Who's Boba Fett?"

She giggled. "Nobody you have to worry about right now. But, how come you didn't call me?"

"Well, I had work last night---."

"Work? You said that before. You have a job?"

"Yeah. Bartending. Someplace called the Bronze." He blushed. "Girls don't…wear very much in your world, do they?" Willow and Buffy just exchanged amused glances as the dark-haired man went on. "Anyways, I thought I'd try again this morning, but I got nowhere trying to find where the student information is. There's no book or anything…"

"That's 'cause everything's on…" She bit her lip. "…computers. And you would have no idea about those. Hence, no call."

"I don't know how you do it." The amazement in his voice sent a gleam of admiration to his eyes. "You got a gadget for everything here. Like, I stopped and got some coffee this morning on the way here, and the mug behind the counter spent five minutes whipping up the milk so that it was all foam. I don't get it; I always thought the milk was supposed to go in the coffee, not sit on top of it. It don't make sense to me."

"So…why are you here? In front of the library, I mean."

Gino ducked his head as he smiled in embarrassment. "I figured if I couldn't find your room, I'd just wait at the one place I knew you'd eventually show up. Smartest girl I know's gotta go to the library some time."

As she watched the two talk on the bench, Buffy couldn't help the swell of mixed emotions that ran over her…happiness for Willow that she wasn't going to have deal with another heartache…sympathy for Gino as he struggled to come to grips with the changes coming through the painting had given him…there was even a tinge of jealousy as their growing ease brought lingering touches to the other's person. Where are you, Spike? she thought sadly. And why the hell haven't you shown up yet?

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

Tucking the stake into the back of her trousers, Buffy hurried along the campus path, head bent, mouth set. Six vamps down, and she still felt the surge of adrenalin pushing through her veins in a heated stream. Contrary to what she'd believed, slaying hadn't worked to distract her; she felt more charged now then when she'd left her dorm three hours ago. Maybe I will go to the Bronze, she thought irritably. I shouldn't have turned down Willow's invitation in the first place if I was just going to end up feeling like this anyway.

Each time her stake had plunged into a vampire's chest, the briefest of contact with the undead flesh in that second before it turned into dust had sent Buffy's senses into overload, shortening her breath, tunnelling her vision, until at one point, she'd considered packing it in for the night just because she feared for her own safety. Last thing I need now is to lose concentration, she thought. And it's all because of Spike. Stupid bleached undead.

Over thirty-six hours, and there was still no sign of him. As each minute passed, she couldn't help but think that the odds of him getting dropped off in the middle of some sunny field, only to explode in a big pile of dust, were growing. For all I know, he's blowing somewhere over Colorado now, she grumbled. Which is probably just as well because if he was here right now, I'd stake his ass for doing this to me.

It was an empty threat, and she knew it, but it didn't stop the feelings from bubbling up into her throat, or the tears springing into her eyes. Angrily, she wiped them away before they could make the fall down her cheeks. Bastard said he wouldn't leave. It wasn't fair. Should've known vampires don't keep their word, even if they do love you. Should've known better than to fall in love with him myself.

As she neared the front door to her dorm, Buffy felt the familiar crawl over her skin announcing the nearby presence of a vampire. Great, she thought. One more slay to just make this a wholloping grand night out. In a flash, the stake was back in her hand, and she froze in her tracks, head turning from side to side as she scanned the lawn, waiting for the demon to show its face. A streak of black out of the corner of her eye caused her to duck, and the Slayer felt the body go flying over her head, rolling to a halt just a few feet away.

"I hope you're not looking for a long fight tonight," Buffy said, "because I'm really not in the mood to drag this out any longer than I have to."

"Actually, I rather fancied a dance."

She felt the air get sucked from her lungs as the vampire straightened, lips curled into that familiar smirk, his blue eyes dancing in merriment. The cut on his face was already healing, a red arc that hinted at the possibility of another scar on that porcelain skin, but other than that, Spike seemed very much his old self. Black t-shirt, black jeans, cocky attitude. It was the missing duster that had thrown her when he'd first arrived. Probably still at Giles', she thought, and then remembered her previous feelings, more specifically, her anger.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded.

He cocked his scarred eyebrow. "And hello to you, too, Slayer," he drawled. "For some reason, I thought you'd be glad to see me." His gaze travelled down to the stake she still clutched tightly in her hand.

"Gee, and for some reason, I thought you'd actually have the courtesy to tell the woman you claimed to love that you're alive…or dead…or, you know, not able to be sucked up by a vacuum cleaner."

He chuckled, taking the few steps to stand before her. "Nice to see you care," he murmured, his head dipping as his mouth trailed over her cheek.

Buffy felt his hands curl into her hips, pulling her against him, the sculpture of his body melting into hers. For a moment, her eyelids fluttered shut, savoring the sensation of his cheek against her, his tongue darting to taste the flavor of the tender skin just below her ear, and the groan rose unbidden to her throat. God, she'd missed him…

And the thought brought her crashing back, the reality that he was obviously fine and yet hadn't bothered to see her before now throwing cold water over her excitement. As Buffy pulled away, she relaxed her hold on the stake, sliding it into its place at the small of her back. "Sorry to see you don't," she said. "Or is this how you're seeing us, now that we're back in Sunnydale? We go on with our lives as normal, except now you've got a fuck-a-Slayer free card?"

His smile faded, eyes darkening. "I told you before and I meant it."

"Told me what?"

"I'm not interested in goin' back to the way things were. Thought you understood that."

"Then where have you been?"

His eyes were bottomless as he just gazed at her…thirty seconds…a minute…and then he held out his hand. "C'mon," he said. "Wanna show you something."

Taking it was automatic, and she was walking at his side, heading toward her dorm, before she realized she hadn't even hesitated. So much for being pissed at him, she thought crossly. One little gesture and she was his, and the thing of it was…he knew it.

They were both silent as they stopped in front of Buffy's room, and she looked up at him, the tiniest of lines between her brows. "You wanna show me my door?" she quizzed.

"No, I was hopin' for a spot of privacy. Is Red in?"

She shook her head. "She's Bronzing it tonight." Her face lit up. "I forgot to tell you, Gino's here."

Spike nodded. "Good for them," he said, then looked pointedly at the still-closed door before turning back to the young blonde at his side.

The lock slid open, allowing the two entrance, and Buffy watched as Spike closed the door shut behind him. "Are you going to tell me now?" she asked. "Or do we continue playing twenty questions?"

"Ask away." He didn't even look at her, just walked over to her stereo and began playing with buttons.

"Where were you yesterday?"

"Showed up in a crypt alongside that Melinda bird," he replied, intent on the electronics before him. "Bein' as it was still daytime, I spent the day there, waitin' for the sun to go down."

"And last night? Why didn't you come by, or go to Giles', or something?"

He glanced back at her, blue eyes inscrutable. "First off, Rupert doesn't like me so why would I give him a toss? Secondly, I did come by." He turned back to the stereo. "You just didn't know it 'cause you were asleep. Waited until dawn for you to come out, but when you didn't, I headed back to the crypt since I didn't fancy giving Mack the cremation he was so hot for." Music came filtering from the speakers, and Spike's lean fingers quickly scanned across the dial before settling on a particular station.

For a moment, it was déjà vu, the silky tones of the saxophone caressing Buffy's skin with its familiar chocolaty tones, and her breath caught as the blond vampire stepped toward her. "I still fancy that dance," he murmured, taking her hand in his and pulling her against him in sultry rhythm with the radio.

They could've been anywhere…back in the painting…at the club…under the stars…and Buffy wouldn't have known the difference. Here, in the circle of Spike's arms, the world around her melted away, leaving her in the warmth of the certainty of his feelings for her. As her cheek pressed against his chest, their bodies moved in unison to the instrumental, and she felt his hardness press into her hips.

"That doesn't feel like dancing," she said, a slight chuckle in her voice.

He didn't answer, just pulled himself far enough away so that she couldn't lean against him anymore. When she looked up to see what was wrong, she was met by his descending lips, taking hers in a kiss that promised tomorrows, tasting of that tangy flavor that was uniquely Spike's. The kiss deepened, lips parting to allow his tongue to slide into her mouth, finding hers in a tangle of fire, swallowing down her very air as his hands slid down the curve of her spine to settle in the small of her back.

Panting, Buffy broke away, hazel eyes darkened as she gulped for breath. "I'm still mad at you," she announced, but the hint of a smile on her lips belied her sincerity.

Spike shrugged. "So what else is new?"

She giggled as he pressed her down onto the bed. "You said you wanted to show me something," she reminded. "If this is it, I'm going to be very disappointed."

His lips pursed in a mock pout. "And here I thought you were just glad I wasn't dust," he said. "Turns out you're a material girl after all." Her jaw dropped, and she slapped good-naturedly at his chest, making him laugh as he sat back. "But, yeah, since you brought it up…"

Buffy propped herself up on her elbows as Spike reached inside the neckline of his t-shirt, pulling out the silver necklace he characteristically wore. "Sorry to tell you this," she said lightly, "but I've seen that before."

"No, you silly bint." He leaned forward, holding out the bottom of the chain. "This."

She noticed it then, the two tiny silver rings hanging from the links, and frowned as she reached forward, one finger tracing the circlets. "Know what happened in the painting doesn't mean anything here on the Hellmouth," Spike continued. "But doesn't mean I don't still feel the sentiment. I just wanted you to see it still means somethin' to me, even if it's not on my finger anymore."

"But…you have two."

She couldn't read what was churning in those blue eyes as they bore into hers. "Think of it as…wishful thinking," he said, and with a half-smile, let the chain fall back against his chest. The vampire began to press forward again, shoulders over hers, only to be stopped by Buffy's hand against his shirt.

"Wait," she said, as he frowned, and slid out from underneath him, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Pulling out the chain around her own neck, she reached behind to undo the clasp, letting it fall into her hand before turning to look back at him.

He didn't ask, but knew, and mirrored her own actions, removing the heavy links, holding it out for Buffy to slowly extract one of the rings before watching her thread it onto her own necklace. When it rested back on the velvet of her skin, Spike couldn't resist extending his own finger to trace its path around her neck, stopping at the hollow in her throat where the ring lay nestled, tremoring ever so slightly as it rested on the pulsepoint there.

"I love you, Buffy," he murmured. "But I wasn't…you didn't…"

She took her hand in his and brought it to her lips, kissing its palm as she pulled him back on top of her. "I know," she replied. "That's why."

Their second kiss swept both of them into the heat of their bodies, losing themselves from the world around them, oblivious to the song softly filling the dorm room's walls.

It's plain to see
We found, by finding each other
The love we waited for

I'm yours, you're mine
And in our hearts
The happy ending starts

What a lovely world
This world will be
With a world of love in store
For you, for me, forever more…

The End.

Author's Note: Just a quick thank you to everyone for all the wonderful feedback. I'm glad that other people had as much fun with it as I did.