Happy birthday Jen!

"Buffy, mia bella," The Immortal's strong, elegant fingers feathered her jaw. "Why are you so sad?"

Buffy looked out over the wrought iron balcony railing, past the riotous floods of brightly coloured flowers, over the midnight streets of Rome. Somewhere, a bell chimed, a slow, melancholy toll.

The thing was, she just couldn't remember why she felt so sad. As soon as her vampire lover's fingers had touched the back of her neck, the memory was chased away. But she knew that she was sad, that out there somewhere was the source of her unhappiness.

"I don't know," she said. "I think it's the city. Rome is so beautiful, but there's so much sadness here."

"Shh, amora," he soothed, and Buffy felt the sadness flow away. "It does not matter. I am here. Forget the sadness of the city. I will make you smile again."

He drew her into the apartment, and Buffy forgot everything that made her sad. Until he left her again.

Illyria looked down at the bandage on her stomach in consternation. "Why is there still pain? The pills the physician gave me were meant to kill the pain."

Spike gave her a tired smile. "We're immortal, love. There's no killing to be done."

"I will the pain to go away."

"Good luck with that."

Spike got up and looked out of the window, down at the carnage that used to be half of LA. "Another day, another city destroyed," he said. "I could get used to this. William The Bloody, Destroyer of Californian Cities."

"It lacks cadence," was Illyria's comment.

Spike shrugged and wandered down the hall to Gunn's room. It was touch and go whether the human would survive or not, and he found himself confusingly anxious for Gunn's survival. Bloody humans, making friends of you like that.

"How's old Charlie-boy doing?" he asked the nurse.

"He lost a lot of blood."

Here's an idle thought, Spike said to himself. I could bite Charlie and save the bugger. He sighed. Yeah, like that was ever going to work. Vampire souls were hard to come by, and he couldn't really see Charlie surviving that ritual in Africa.

"Keep me posted," he said, and went back down the hall, staring out the window at the wreckage of the city. "How're you doing?" he asked Illyria, who was still sitting on her bed, looking confused and rather angry.

"I feel pain."

"Yeah, that'll be from all the scythes and claws and-"

"Not in a place where I am wounded."

"-poisoned fangs - wait, what did you say?" Was this going to be one of those icky girlie things? Did gods even get those?

Illyria touched her chest, mercifully hidden by the pyjamas Spike had brought her. "In here. There is pain."

"Oh, bloody hell, I didn't know immortal gods could have heart attacks-"

"It is not physical," Illyria glared at him. "I am feeling human sorrow. It is not pleasant."

Spike blinked at her. Illyria, sorrow?

But then, hadn't she been showing rather a lot of humanity lately? And she had recently witnessed the death of the man she was supposed to have loved very much as a human.

Spike knew how that felt. Oh bloody hell, he knew how that felt.

"Wesley," he said, and Illyria gave a curt nod.

"The human you knew as Fred. She had an... attachment to him."

Spike shrugged. "As humans often do."

She gave him a sharp look. "Not just humans. Vampires love more deeply."

He winced. Yeah, that was the truth.

"You loved deeply," Illyria said.

"Still do," Spike murmured, looking out the dark window.

The cemetery was quiet, but then it was the middle of the night, and this wasn't an area vamps often frequented. Spike made his way between the grave markers and memorials to a red granite statue of a fairy with an impish gleam in her eye, and little horns coming from her temples. She held a wand in her outstretched hand, ready to grant some wishes.

He smiled when he saw it. He always did. It wouldn't have been very fair to Anya to put an angel on her memorial, and he figured she might appreciate this. He dusted off the plaque that read, 'Anya Christina Emanuella Jenkins: she was weird and we loved her' and stepped back to admire his work.

"Evenin' pet," he said, and laid down his flowers on the ground while he emptied out the dead ones. "Sorry I haven't been for a while. Had a busy week."

The red statue dealt him a severe look.

"Hey, I've been off saving the bloody world," Spike protested. "Again. Listen, love, you'll think this is funny. Two vampires, a god with restricted powers, and a human with his guts spilling out, and we beat off the W&H Senior Partners. Interdimensional hellfiends swatted like little flies. Well," he added immodestly, "mostly it was me."

The statue didn't look like she believed him.

Flowers arranged to his satisfaction - that was, shoved into the stone vase any old how - Spike leaned against a gravestone nearby and lit up a cigarette.

"Heard from any of 'em, pet?" he asked. "I mean, obviously not Buffy or the Bit, 'cos they're kind of a long way away, but... What about the girls? Or the whelp?"

"Hey," came a voice from behind him, "who're you calling a whelp?"

Spike nearly fell off his gravestone. Xander came into view, hands shoved in pockets, not looking particularly glad to see him.

"Xander! What the bloody hell're you doing here?"

Xander blinked at him. Then he looked at Anya's statue. "Well, I thought I'd come out here and soak up the sun," he nodded at the full moon hanging in the sky, "and check out the breathtaking scenery. What do you think I'm here for?"

Grumbling to himself, Spike lit another cigarette. "Didn't think any of the Scoobies were still in the state," he said. "Thought you were in Africa."

"Well, you thought wrong." Xander ran a hand over the fairy's outstretched hand. "I come to see my girl all the time."

Spike didn't want to be touched by that, but he was. "Bloody pansy," he muttered half-heartedly.

"So what're you doing here?" Xander asked.

He shrugged. "I like hanging out with dead people."

"So I hear. Heard about the big W&H shakedown."

"You did?" Spike looked at him sharply.

"Buffy called," Xander looked at Spike askance. "There's a W&H in Rome."

"You don't say?"

"Whole place just emptied out," Xander said. "Building's empty."

"Wouldn't bet on it," Spike took a drag on his cigarette. "So how's Buffy?" he asked perversely. "Enjoying her little vampire fling?"

Xander snorted. "You know, I like Buffy, but she has the worst taste in men."

"Yep," Spike agreed. Then he said, "Hey!"

Xander just shrugged. Spike supposed he was right. Hell, look at Peaches. And Captain Can-Do - what the hell was that all about?

"You know," Spike frowned, "you're not showing much surprise that I'm alive."

"That'll be because I knew," Xander told him.

"You did? How?"

"Andrew."

Andrew? Spike thought for a moment. Oh yeah, Tucker's brother. "When'd you see him?"

"He dropped me a line from the airport. He's living in Rome now, you know, with-"

"I know."

There was silence for a while. Spike focused on Anya's flowers.

"You speak to Buffy often?"

"Yeah, every now and then. She seems happy," Xander said, although he was frowning a little.

"Happy?" Spike pounced. "Happy as in flowers and puppies, or happy as in trying to cover up mortal pain?"

Xander blinked. "Just, you know, happy," he said.

Spike chose to believe it was the latter.

"Does she, uh," he scuffed his boot on the ground, "know I'm..."

Xander's brow furrowed. "You know, I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I don't think it ever came up."

Spike blinked. It didn't come up that the man who'd died for her was actually still bloody alive? What the hell was going on here? She was just swanning around Rome, all happy with her Immortal lover, and-

"Oh, bloody hell," he said.

"What?"

"The Immortal. Bloody hell!" Spike repeated, kicking a gravestone.

"Oh yeah," Xander grinned goofily. "He's a great guy."

Spike glared at him. Yeah yeah. Everyone knew the whelp was susceptible to thrall. Even at this distance!

"You don't even know him," he said pityingly.

"I do," Xander said, "I do know him. He's a great guy."

"Have you ever met him? Spoken with him?"

"He answered the phone when I called once," Xander said eagerly. "He's such a great guy."

"Yeah," Spike said, grinding out his cigarette under his heel. "I get that."

Ah, Rome. The Eternal bloody City, where nothing ever changed. Spike visited, tried to be cool, and the Immor-fucking-tal stole his bloody woman.

Well, no more. He'd had enough. This was it.

He smashed down the door to Buffy's apartment. He'd been surprised at how easy it was to get in - but then he guessed that since she was renting or whatever, then it was sort of a public building? Maybe it was some funky Italian property law.

Either way, it had got him in.

He looked around. It looked much like it had before, stylish and neat, shutters closed but windows open, allowing a soft breeze straight from the Tiber to waft around the room.

She wasn't here. He couldn't smell her. Not her perfume, not her scent. In fact, he couldn't smell anyone - Andrew must be out with his sexy gal-pals - despite Spike's suspicions about his orientation. Was that overkill, or what? He figured Dawn was out with some friends, maybe at a sleepover. He was even willing to entertain the possibility that she was on a date. Much as it pained him. His little girl was growing up. Of course, he'd have to personally vet the boy, check out his family, criminal record, scare the shit out of him if he turned out to be unworthy - which he almost certainly would. Hell, look at that AJ or PJ or whoever he was...

Spike smiled nostalgically. Good times.

But Buffy... Now, Buffy he wouldn't allow to date. Well, not anyone but him. He'd had a lot of time to think about this, a lot of time to consider it. He wasn't used to women loving him. Well, of course they loved him in a general sense, 'cos he was sexy as sin and he knew it, but the women he loved - really, really loved - they never loved him in return. Look at Dru. Adorable psycho hell-bitch that she was, she'd run off as soon as a better offer came along. She hadn't loved him at all.

And Buffy. He'd always known it. Always been sure she didn't love him. Who would? Who could? But then...

"I love you."

Hell. What was he supposed to say to that? He was about to bloody die for her, it wasn't really the time to say ta and give her a quick snog.

Tell her he didn't believe her and save face. It was the only thing to do.

A sound from outside drew him to the window. Peering through the slats on the shutters, he squinted down at the river below. Was that?

Jesus, was that a gondola?

This wasn't sodding Venice. What the hell was going on?

But he knew without looking what it was. The Immortal had rigged it. Thought he'd give his little Slayer a ride she'd never forget? Ha. Spike had given her plenty of those.

He glowered down at the dock outside the apartment building. To his surprise, The Immortal not only handed Buffy out of the gondola, but Dawn too. Spike saw red. If that... that pervert had been messing with Dawn, he'd bloody dismember-

The Immortal handed out another person. Andrew.

Hell. Didn't say much.

Spike slipped from the apartment, wincing at the broken lock. They'd know something was up from that. Still, who cared? He was going to kill The Immortal anyway. If only for having such a wanky name.

He lurked down the corridor. If he knew anything about Buffy's charms, The Immortal would be too wrapped up in her to notice Spike, and if Buffy sensed a vamp she'd think it was The Immortal. Sorted.

He heard footsteps. Smelled perfume. But no vamp. Peeking around the corner, Spike saw Buffy, Dawn and Andrew coming up the corridor, sighing about how romantic their moonlit boat ride had been. Andrew kept peppering things with inaccurate Italian. Dawn kept correcting him.

Buffy kept falling silent.

Dear God, she was beautiful. So incredibly beautiful. She'd cut her hair so it curled around her collar, caressing the soft bare skin at her neck, and was dressed in heels and a skirt, a soft scarf at her neck, a tailored coat of Italian leather wrapped around her.

She paused as she reached the apartment door, and for a second he swore she looked right at him. Then her eyes went to the broken in door, and her hands immediately came out to stop Dawn and Andrew.

"Stay here," she said in a low voice. "Something's wrong."

Spike froze utterly as Buffy crept inside. Ridiculous, really, because he knew there was nothing inside the apartment. But Buffy was frightened, so Spike was frightened too.

"You think it's a beastie?" Andrew said nervously.

"Nothing Buffy can't handle," Dawn replied confidently.

Spike studied her for a moment, just for something to do. Yeah, his little bit was growing up. Still slender, still pretty, she nonetheless had a more womanly air about her. She wasn't a little girl any more.

Buffy appeared in the doorway. "It's clear," she said, scanning the hallway. "I..."

Spike tensed. She was going to see him now. Sense him. She was a Slayer, and he was a vamp...

"Nothing's taken," she said. "I'll call the police in the morning."

"I can do it now if you like," Dawn offered, then when the other two looked at her, protested, "What? Cute guys in Alfa Romeos? Come on."

Buffy shook her head. "I'm beat. I think I'll just turn in."

"Me too," Andrew said dreamily. "God, Buffy, The Immortal is just so great."

"Yeah," Dawn agreed, her eyes going misty. "So great. Isn't he, Buffy?"

Spike watched her from the shadows.

"He's a great guy," Buffy said, and was he imagining it, or did she look a little sad when she said that?

It was the strangest thing, but whenever The Immortal brought her home, Buffy felt unbearably sad. She'd lie awake all night, unable to remember what it was that was making her so unhappy. She'd sit and stare at the wall when she was supposed to be training the girls with Giles.

She supposed it must mean she really loved him.

Only... Only, Buffy just couldn't get that worked up about loving him. Sure, when she was with him she felt the burning passion inside her, knew that they were destined to be together for all time - but when they were apart... Well, it was confusing.

She knew she was over Spike. And Angel. The Immortal told her so. She hardly thought of them at all any more.

So why did she feel so sad?

Closing her eyes, she turned on her side and tried to sleep. But her dreams were always the same. They were always of Spike.

Spike dying. Spike telling her he loved her. Spike holding her bloody hands and telling her softly that he'd had to break out of a coffin, too. Spike making love to her, tenderly, harshly, as if he couldn't get enough of her, couldn't believe he was allowed to touch her.

"Spike," she murmured, half-awake. "I miss you."

Spike ran his hand over his face. He'd waited out in the corridor, unsure, half-frightened to go in. He could hardly believe he was really here. Could hardly believe he was going to touch her again, speak to her, stare at her until his eyes went blind with the magnificence of her.

He'd crept inside, carefully replacing the temporary barricade Buffy'd set up over the broken door, and found her room. Traced the warm scent of vanilla to her bed, seen her lying there in the moonlight, sheets tangled around her, a frown on her face and tears beading her eyelashes.

And she missed him.

Oh Buffy, don't you know how much I've missed you? Without even thinking, he'd moved forward, run his fingers over her cheek, felt the warmth of her skin. He'd longed for that touch, utterly longed for it. The only human who'd touched him since he came back was Fred, sweet little Fred, who reminded him so much of Dawn. But now she was gone, and no one at all had touched him for a long time.

Yet here was Buffy, arching against him like a little kitten, her frown easing.

"Spike," she breathed, and his heart constricted. Or it would have done, if it was capable of movement.

"I'm here, pet," he whispered. "I'm right here."

"Spike," she said again, and Spike brought his other hand up, ran it down over her bare shoulder, her arm. It was summer, and she was sleeping in a tiny vest top and shorts that hardly covered all her glorious warm golden skin.

"I've missed you too, pet," he told her. "Missed seeing you smile. Hearing you laugh. Missed you telling me what an idiot I am." He bit back a small laugh. "Missed being an idiot around you. That lot in LA... They just didn't get me, love."

"No one gets you," Buffy murmured. "Except me."

Spike started. Was she awake? Had she meant that? Why wasn't she freaking out?

His answer came with her next words. "Spike, why can't it be more than a dream?"

Warmth flooded him. "Oh love," he murmured, and bent his head to kiss her.

God, but she tasted sweet. So warm, so soft, perfect really, his Buffy. Sleepily, she kissed him back, and Spike simply melted. The taste of her, the hot sweetness of her lips, her tongue, her perfect tiny teeth...

Okay, Spike, he thought, you've done a stellar job of getting over her. Yep, absolutely tip-top. Very convincing.

Her hands skimmed his shoulders, slid under his duster. He hardly noticed the weight of leather slipping from his shoulders - but he sure as hell felt her hands on his arms, slipping under the sleeves of his t-shirt, warming his skin.

This is really Buffy, he thought. This is really my girl, my beautiful girl. "I'll never leave you again, pet," he told her, "I swear. I love you, Buffy."

She answered him with another hot, searing kiss.

He might never get another chance at this, Spike realised, despite his words. Sure, he intended to kill The Immortal and send his ashes straight to hell, but what if...

He wasn't scared of failing in the fight. Spike never worried about that. What terrified him was Buffy. If he couldn't break the thrall - or even worse, if there was no thrall. If he killed her boyfriend and she hated him for it.

Still had to be done though.

Which made tonight even more important.

Her body rose in his arms as he slipped his hands under her little top. She was so warm, her skin so soft. He felt the beautiful swell of her breasts and nearly came undone. When he stripped off her top and held her in his arms, her eyes came open and she looked right at him.

Spike tensed. Here it came.

"I missed you so much," she sighed, and melted into another kiss.

Spike couldn't believe his luck. Okay, she thought she was dreaming here - hell, even if she was and Spike was being delusional, it wasn't as if he cared. She was half naked in his arms, and he damn well intended to take full advantage of that.

Bending his head, he kissed her breast, took one perfect nipple in his mouth, and gently sucked.

"Spike," Buffy gasped, and he smiled against her. What was it - two years since they'd been together like this? And he still remembered every nuance of the cries she made.

Her hands were on his back, gathering up his t-shirt, smoothing her fingers over his back. Pleasure rippled through him from that one simple touch. At her bidding he lifted his head so she could pull his t-shirt over his head, and when she saw his bare chest, she smiled that beautiful knowing, lazy Buffy smile.

"You're still the same."

"You too, pet." He kissed her again, loving the feel of her bare breasts against his skin. He was already working her shorts down her legs, smoothing his hands over her perfect soft buttocks, her silken thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her.

She was naked now, and she was his.

Unable to stop himself, Spike kissed a trail down her stomach, over the gorgeous curve of her hipbone, to the thighs she restlessly parted for him. Good girl, he thought, a smile curving his lips as he licked the inside of her thigh.

"Spike," she pleaded on a breath.

He moved further up, used his hands and his tongue to part her slick folds, and licked into her.

Buffy sucked in a breath so sharp it sounded as a shriek.

"Shh," he quickly slipped his free hand over her mouth. If Dawn or Andrew heard and came investigating, all would be lost. And if anyone took Buffy from him now, he'd kill them. Including the niblet.

But no one came. Not to say someone wasn't going to, Spike thought wickedly.

Then it was his turn to jolt as Buffy took his finger into her mouth and started sucking. The motion was to erotic, so damn suggestive, he nearly came there and then. Instead he scrabbled for the fly on his jeans, released some of the pressure on his aching erection, and kicked off the last of his clothing.

He looked down at Buffy, lying there with her cheeks flushed and her hair in a tangled golden halo around her, and almost couldn't believe she was real. Maybe he was dreaming.

Then she held her arms out to him. "Spike," she said, "don't stop."

He went willingly, skin against skin, so gloriously warm and soft, and when he slid into her, felt like he was coming home. She still felt the same, hot and tight and slick, a perfect fit, and when he started to move she moved with him.

But there was something new here. Something in the way her eyes met his and held them, her beautiful soft green eyes, darkened with pleasure as he stroked her from the inside. Her breath came in little gasps, her skin glided against his, and everything felt incredible.

Spike wouldn't have been surprised if there'd been bluebirds flitting about.

"It's been so long," Buffy sighed, and Spike nodded, straining to hold onto his control. "You feel so good."

"You too, pet," he said. "You can't imagine... You feel so bloody good."

Her breath was coming quicker now. She thrust harder against him. "Spike, I'm nearly-"

"Yeah, me too-"

Her eyes met his again, held, and then glazed as her mouth opened on a cry of delight. Spike smothered it with his own, drinking in her orgasm as his own washed over him, deep pleasure that drained every inch of him.

He collapsed, completely spent, in Buffy's warm arms, and as she held him heard her murmur, "I love you, Spike."

He closed his eyes as reality intruded. "No, you don't, but thanks for saying it."

"Hey." A note of anger crept into her voice. "I never forgave you for leaving me on that note. I wanted you to know, Spike. I meant it."

He lifted his head. "What?"

"I meant it, Spike. I love you." Her eyes softened. "All the things you've done, all the things we've been through... It took me a long time to realise it. The way you changed, Spike. You got your soul for me. You made yourself a better man. Even if it wasn't for the brain-melting orgasms, I'd love you for that."

He smiled at her compliment. He couldn't quite process her words. Not yet.

It was strange, Spike thought, to finally be the champion. To be the only one left. Fighting the good fight. He hadn't called LA but he had his doubts about old Charlie-boy pulling through. Shame really. It had been kind of nice to be part of the team - a team of oddballs who were forced to accept him because hey, he was a chosen one too.

And speaking of chosen ones...

Spike leaned against the wrought iron balcony outside Buffy's room and blew a cloud of smoke out into the dark, clear Rome air. He wondered how Buffy was dealing with not being alone any more. With not having to shoulder the burden. Wondered if Faith was around, or if she'd buggered off to live her own life. He wouldn't have blamed Buffy for walking away from all the Slayer crap.

But then that wasn't Buffy. There was a reason she'd become the Slayer, and that was that she knew what she had to do. You didn't give up being a Slayer, not until you died. Even Faith knew that. She tried, and it came back to bite her in the arse.

No. His Buffy wasn't a quitter. She wouldn't hand over responsibility to someone else. Hell, even when she was old, grey, wrinkled, stooped, she'd still be bossing the Scoobies about, telling them how they were going to kill whatever big bad was hanging around in the future. She'd be the Slayer Mommy.

He grinned at that. She was already practically Dawn's mommy, she'd taken on parenting duties for all those confused, frightened Slayerettes, and now she had hundreds of girls to look after.

Maybe she'd be the first Slayer-Watcher. Spike made a mental note to ask her about Giles and if they were setting up a new Watcher's Council. Old fossils.

Spike inhaled deeply. Where was Giles, anyway? Strange that Spike hadn't heard a peep from the old bugger-

His eyes narrowed as something caught his eye. The apartment building went straight down to the river, but there was a little alleyway a few feet away, and in it something lurked. Something wicked.

Spike flicked one last glance back inside at his sleeping beauty, then vaulted over the balcony to deal with the nasty.

Buffy awoke to familiar misty dreams and an unfamiliar ache between her thighs. She felt... Well, it was weird, but she felt as if she'd been having sex all night long. Hot, sweaty, exhausting, mindblowing sex.

Which she had, but only in her dreams.

"Stoppit," she told herself. "Stop thinking about Spike. Stop dreaming about him. You've moved on. Right on. New boyfriend on."

But with all those Spikey memories crowding her mind - and her body - she couldn't quite remember exactly what it was she saw in The Immortal. He was a great guy and all, but...

But she loved Spike. And she'd always love Spike.

There it was, the thought that had been bobbing about, nudging her for attention for a year. And yet somehow, she'd never managed to grab hold of it and think about it. She loved Spike.

Why hadn't she ever thought about this before?

Buffy flopped back on the pillows. She felt as if a fog had just been lifted from her brain. She loved Spike. How had she not seen it? She'd told him in Sunnydale, and being Spike, he'd shrugged it off. Well, that was Spike, incapable of accepting anything other than beatings in some shape or form. Didn't know what to do with real love, having been denied it for so long.

And now... Now it was so clear to her. She loved him. She loved everything he was, everything he'd become, everything he'd been. How could she not love a man who'd done the impossible to better himself, for her. All for her. He'd saved the world for her, fought her battles, won her wars, been there at her side when she needed him, whenever she needed him.

Tears pricked her eyes. Oh God, she'd do anything to have him back.

A tap on the door heralded Dawn. "Buffy? Phone for you. It's Giles."

Buffy sniffed. "Bring it in."

Her sister put her head around the door. "Are you okay?"

A world of no. She'd just realised she was in love with the man who'd died to save them all a year ago.

"Sure, I'm fine. I just... I had something in my eye." Buffy held out her hand for the phone, and Dawn handed it over, frowning. "Giles, hi!"

Dawn rolled her eyes at Buffy's fake perky tone, but she left the room and shut the door.

"Buffy, are you all right?" Giles asked.

"Sure, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

"You have that overly bright cheerful tone to your voice," Giles said drily. "You can't fool me, Buffy."

Apparently not. "It's nothing," she said, "I was just having a bad dream."

"A Slayer dream?"

"No, just the regular fanged horny beast kind," Buffy said, completely truthfully.

"Ah. Well, you see-" Giles broke off as a terrific roar sounded in the background, "speaking of horny beasts, there's one, er, attacking the library right now."

"What library?" Buffy asked. "Giles, where are you? It sounds like a zoo."

"Actually, I believe it used to be, back when Tsar A-" he broke off again as the roar obliterated all sound.

"Tsar? Did you say Tsar? You're in Russia?" Buffy asked disbelievingly.

"Yes. You remember I said I was going to track down a few more new Slayers? Well, I'm in Arkhangelsk. Actually a few miles outside. I've found the new Slayer, only she's, well, got rather a lot on her plate right now."

"The horny beast?" Buffy asked without much enthusiasm.

"Yes, good guess."

"And let me guess, he doesn't come with a knife and fork." Buffy sighed. "Okay, what do you want me to do?"

"If you could get on a plane up here that would be terribly helpful."

Buffy sighed and looked around her pretty room. Right now all she wanted to do was hide under the covers and cry over Spike. "Can't you get Faith?"

"She's training girls at the Shaolin camp in Tibet. Buffy, I know Willow's spell endowed all potential Slayers with full physical abilities, but this girl simply isn't ready. She doesn't know what to do. Besides which, there's a thirty-foot Charontes demon outside setting light to the forest. We're going to need some help here."

Buffy sighed. Well, a Slayer had to do what a Slayer had to do. She'd fought through the death of her mother, and Tara, and Anya. She'd even managed to live through Angel's defection, although somehow that didn't hurt so much any more. She could get through this little revelation.

"Okay," she said. "I'll call the airlines after I've told The Immortal."

"Are you sure he won't want to come along?" Giles asked. "He really is a great guy."

"No, he has all his minions in Rome," Buffy replied. "He won't want to go to Russia. I'll pack my fur hat and call you when I know the flight details."

Spike looked up at the small window in the basement and swore. Sodding daylight. He should have had that vamp gang nailed in minutes, but a couple of them escaped, and he was wired enough to chase after them. And then get stuck on the other side of town while the sun came up. Bloody hell.

When it got dark again he'd make his way back to Via Valle Piena di Sole and Buffy's place, and he'd make a real appearance. Tell her he was free of LA and all that crap. Tell her he wanted to be with her. That he'd saved the world again for her, and that all his sacrifices meant nothing without her.

Yeah. Maybe take her some flowers too. Buffy liked flowers, right? Or jewellery! Yeah, he'd chased those vamps past some excellent jewellery shops last night. Maybe he'd make with the smashies and get her something.

Or maybe... since it was Buffy... he'd actually buy her something. Yeah. Buffy deserved that. Maybe some earrings, or a bracelet - no a bracelet would get in the way of the slayage. Ooh, a ring, she'd love a ring. Was that too much? Oh no, Peaches had given her a ring. Poncy Celtic symbol of love. Spike toyed with the idea of telling he she'd always worn it the wrong way around - heart facing out meant you were out of love, not in it. But that was just unnecessary cruelty. And Spike was through being cruel to Buffy.

Night fell, and he made a few minor threats to a couple of designer jewellers. A couple of very pretty diamond rings caught his eye, but Spike wasn't sure he dared. Not yet, anyway. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure if vampires could get married.

A necklace then. With a little bit of legwork, he found a jeweller willing to make up the design Spike wanted. A week or so and it'd be done. Until then he'd have to be content with flowers.

He found himself outside Buffy's mended front door a few hours after sunset, a handful of roses clutched in his fingers. God, he'd never been so nervous in all his unlife. The three knocks he sounded on the door sounded like a death knell.

It was Dawn who opened the door, an Italian dictionary in her hand and a pen tucked behind her ear.

She stared.

"Hello, bit," Spike said quietly, giving her a bit of a smile for reassurance.

Dawn suddenly screamed and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging and kissing him. Her dictionary went flying and her pen bashed Spike's cheek.

"Spike! Ohmigod! Spike, it's really you! Wait, am I hallucinating?"

Spike disentangled her and set her on her feet. "No, love, I'm pretty sure I'm here."

"But - you're real! And, and you have a body and everything!"

"Yeah, funny story about that," Spike began.

"But you died! Buffy saw you die!"

"I saw Buffy die," Spike reminded her. "Resurrection is the new black. Everyone's doing it."

She stared a bit more, then hugged him again, grinning. "I'm so glad you're here," she whispered.

Spike put his arm around her, touched. "Yeah, love. Me too."

"A dragon?" Buffy said, looking up at the fiery wings.

Giles polished his glasses nervously. "Well, technically there's no such thing as a dragon, it's-"

"A thirty foot dragon!"

"Well... Yes. I suppose it is."

They stood in the castle courtyard looking up at it. The Charontes demon circled overhead, bellowing plaintively.

"So what kills this thing?"

"Kill it?" asked Evgeniya, the new Russian Slayer. She looked at Giles. "You said we don't kill it."

"Yes, well," Giles stammered, polishing his glasses again.

"Giles?" Buffy put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows.

"The Watcher told me it was... inhumane to kill such a beast," Evgeniya glared at her.

"Really? Well, I call destroying three villages and half a castle pretty inhumane too," Buffy said. "Crossbow, Giles? Maybe something barbed so we can pull it back down to earth."

"Well yes, certainly restraining the, er, animal might be helpful," Giles said.

"I don't want to restrain it," Buffy said as reasonably as she could, "I want to kill it, and go home."

"Americans," Evgeniya glared at her again.

"Excuse me? For those of use outside the loop, the Cold War is over," Buffy informed her.

"If you don't understand it, you only want to kill it," Evgeniya told her. "It is looking for a mate."

"A mate? Aww," Buffy gave a smile. "How cute! Then it can have lots of baby dragons, and they can destroy the whole country."

"Not that sort of mate, Buffy," Giles turned to go inside the castle, and Buffy followed, keeping her distance from the scowling new Slayer. "Charontes demons can survive on their own, but they're miserably unhappy. Most of them merge with another creature for most of their life, and often live for many thousands of years."

"Merge?" Buffy made a face. "Sounds icky. Are there viscera involved?"

"No, the Charontes simply lives on the skin of its host-"

"Ew!"

"As a tattoo," Evgeniya broke in.

Buffy looked at her in confusion. "A tattoo?"

"It can take its own form," Giles explained, "actually some of them can take many forms. But most Charontes are happiest living as part of their host. For the most part they're subservient and will take orders, but if left alone they can get lonely, frightened, and rather violent."

"No kidding," Buffy said, looking out the window at the rubble that had once been part of the castle courtyard. "So what do we do?"

Giles opened his mouth to answer, but his reply was cut off by another bellow from the demon, followed by a rumble of masonry.

"Everybody get down!" Buffy yelled, and half a second later the ceiling fell in.

"...and then Buffy said, 'Uno cavallo, per favore', and the guy sent her all the way across the market to where you can get horse drawn tours, because she'd said-"

"Cavallo, not cavalo," Spike grinned. "Did she buy the horse?"

"No, but she kicked my ass for spelling it wrong on the shopping list," Dawn giggled.

"What'd she want a cabbage for anyway?"

"I can't remember, part of some spell Willow sent. But you know Buffy sucks at magic."

"And at Italian too," Spike laughed. "How's your Italiano, bit?"

"Fa bene," Dawn replied, beaming. "I'm learning a lot at school. They all speak way good English anyway, so it's not too hard to make friends."

"Aw," Spike punched her arm, "you could make friends anywhere, love."

Dawn blushed.

Spike raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so you have been making friends? Or is it one friend in particular?" He waggled his eyebrows at her until she laughed.

"I am so not telling you."

"Oh, come on."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh - you know, I just can't pull that off," Spike lamented. He wasn't cut out for Californiaisms.

Dawn giggled again. "His name is Sandro," she said.

"Sandro? Girl's name," Spike scoffed.

"No, Sandra is a girl's name. Sandro's short for Alessandro. It was Botticelli's first name," Dawn told him with all the authority of an eighteen year old.

"Bloody ponce," Spike said, lighting up a cigarette. They were sitting on the balcony outside the Summers' apartment, looking over the lights dancing on the river.

"He is not a ponce! He's funny and cute and he's really good at soccer," Dawn said passionately.

"Soccer? Soccer? It's football, love, you're in Europe now. And since when were you into ball sports?" Spike realised what he'd said a fraction too late, and was incredibly grateful that vampires couldn't blush.

"Since I saw Sandro play on the school team," Dawn blushed for him.

So the kid was still at school. That was something. At least he wasn't some 30-something Italian pervert. "But I know about you and football players, pet," he teased. "How'd you know he hasn't got a magic jacket, eh?"

"I know," Dawn said, looking mortified. "For one thing, Buffy hasn't fallen for him."

That sobered Spike a little. "Yeah, well, she's got her own boyfriend, hasn't she?"

"The Immortal? Yeah, he's a great guy."

"You know, I am getting so bloody sick of hearing that!"

"But he is," Dawn said, looking puzzled. "Don't you think he is?"

"No!"

"Oh, you just haven't met him properly."

Spike's eyes narrowed. "I don't need to meet him," he said tightly. "He's already stolen my woman - twice."

"Yes, but Spike," Dawn said gently, "Buffy isn't your woman. Not any more."

Spike stared out at the dark city. Oh, what did Dawn know? She was just a bloody kid. She didn't know what it was like to love someone with your entire being, with your entire newly granted soul. To chase an impossible dream, to change your whole self, to make your worthless existence better just to be worthy of her.

"Spike, Buffy's going to love seeing you," Dawn went on hesitantly, "but she's moved on now. She's happy with The Immortal."

Spike leapt to his feet, sending the table crashing. "Happy?" he yelled. "Bloody happy? If she's so sodding happy, why has he got you all under a bloody thrall? Huh? She's not bloody happy. I felt it from her. She told me."

Dawn went very still. "Told you? When did you speak to her?"

Spike turned inside the apartment. "Nothing."

"Spike?"

"Nothing, I didn't speak to her. She hasn't seen me. Ask her. When she gets home."

"She's not coming home, Spike. Giles called just before you got here. Buffy's gone to Russia to help with some new Slayer."

"Russia?" His head snapped up. "When?"

"This morning." Dawn looked at her watch. "She'll be there by now."

"Russia?"

"Spike, calm down. She'll be back in a couple days."

Spike forced himself to stand still and not hit anything. Champion of the world, souled vampire, man in love. Did not need to destroy anything.

"I'm gonna go kill the fucking Immortal," he muttered, and strode out of the apartment.

Buffy extracted herself from the rubble, searching the ruined room. The walls were still standing, but there were big holes everywhere and the floor was covered in bits of timber and stone. "Giles?"

"Oh bollocks," he said, and Buffy blinked, because while that sounded just like Giles, she knew he'd never, ever swear.

She looked around to see him pushing a piece of masonry away and frowning at his broken glasses.

Ah. Yeah, that might make him swear.

"Wait a minute," she said, "we've been through how many apocalypses and your glasses are only getting broken now?"

"I've never had a building collapse on me before now," Giles glared at the twisted metal and broken glass. "Are you all right?"

Buffy pulled herself clear and nodded. She'd curled herself into a tight ball when things had started going kerblooey, and apart from a few small scratches on her arms and legs, she was okay. "Where's Miss Congeniality?"

Evgeniya emerged from under a fallen archway grimacing. She looked in a worse state than Giles or Buffy.

"Are you all right?"

The new Slayer, nodded, then winced and shook her head. "I have hurt my leg," she said. "I can't stand."

Buffy cleared bits of rubble from the girl's body. Evgeniya sucked in a sharp breath when Buffy brushed her right leg.

"Yeah, I think that's broken," she said. "Giles, is there a hospital around here?"

"Not within about a hundred miles," he said. "Only way there is by husky. If we can get past the Charontes."

"You're kidding, right? Giles, she has a broken leg!"

Giles tucked his ruined spectacles into the dusty pocket of his jacket. "Buffy, we've tended to worse wounds than this. Remember fighting Caleb? We treated wounds by candlelight." He smiled at Evgeniya and said something in Russian that made her nod.

"I trust you," she said, looking at Buffy, "First Slayer."

"Hey, that's nice," Buffy said, "but if you ever call me by that psycho-hell-bitch name again, I'm gonna break your other leg."

Dawn yawned and put the phone down. "Andrew, what time is it in Arkhangelsk?"

He looked thoughtful. "I have no idea."

"It's the middle of the frikkin' night here." She sighed. "That was Giles. Apparently the Russian Slayer has broken her leg so they're gonna stay with her a while until she's better. That demon thingy attacked the castle and destroyed a big part of it."

Andrew nodded wisely. "Ah yes, the well-known destructive powers of the unmated Charontes."

Dawn blinked. "Unmated? So it's attacking things 'cos it's horny?"

"It's not like that," Andrew scolded her. "Charontes demons are like children. When they mate, it's more like being adopted. They need a creature that's going to nurture and care for them. The unmated Charontes will simply thrash about like an uncontrolled baby Hagrid in a temper tantrum."

"So how do they stop it? Find it a mate?"

"I guess so," Andrew said. "Someone who can control and nurture-"

"I get it," Dawn said. She picked at her nails a bit. "I, er, told Giles about Spike."

"You did? But how did you know, little one?"

Dawn chewed her lip. "I, er... Well, he sort of paid a visit. You know the smashed up door yesterday?"

"I still think we should call the Polizia." Andrew's eyes gleamed at the prospect.

"No need. It was Spike, looking for Buffy. He came back tonight but she was already gone." She reached out and punched Andrew's arm.

"Hey! That hurt!"

"That's for not telling me he was alive again." She considered this. "Well, undead again. How does that work?"

"Who can understand the working of ancient prophecy, er, -ies?" Andrew mused. "Hey, you wanna see what's on RaiUno?"

"Sure," Dawn said, and picked up the remote.

"Well, that's just peachy," Spike said, looking around the empty palazzo. "I come here to kill the bugger, and he's skipped town? I thought The Immortal never left Rome? What's an Immortal outside the Eternal City? Just another bloody vampire, that's what."

He glanced at the vampire he had pinned to the wall by one hand.

"I mean, you come half the way across the world, in the smelly hold of an aeroplane so as not to catch any unwanted sunlight, ready to take back your girl and kill your rival, and they're both sodding out of town. What is the bloody world coming to?"

"He will crush you like a-" the vampire began, but his voice turned into a squeak as Spike pressed down on his windpipe.

"Like a skinny little minion? Yeah, I don't think so," Spike said, and idly staked him. "Bollocks."

Days passed, weeks passed. It felt like years to Buffy, who whittled away the time rebuilding the castle. Giles had rushed away to some other new Slayer in Japan and she was stuck with the convalescing Evgeniya, whose leg had been broken in several places, and infected to boot. Her accelerated healing powers were helping, but the fact that she'd not got near a hospital for thirty-six hours was hindering, too.

The Charontes demon, who seemed to have taken up residence just outside the castle, was making life very difficult for anyone who wanted to leave. This didn't seem to bother Evgeniya, who liked her castle, but it was driving Buffy mad. There were no vampires to dust in northern Russia, no nasties to speak of except for the big, mournful dragon, and Buffy had been forbidden to kill it.

Besides which, she seemed to have caught some revolting Russian disease. Wherever the castle drew its water from, it obviously wasn't very clean, because something nasty had taken up residence in Buffy's stomach. She couldn't keep anything down and felt horribly weak. She helped the estate workers with the rubble when she could, but spent half each day in bed, trying to calm her nausea.

One night, feeling better, she climbed up to the ramparts and wrapped herself in a blanket to look at the stars. Maybe she'd even see the Aurora from here. Or was that only from Greenland? She couldn't remember. Either way, the achingly cold, clean air felt good being pulled into her lungs. Maybe tomorrow she might see if Evgeniya felt up to a trip, and they could go to the hospital to get Buffy some antibiotics. And then book a flight back to Rome, where they had civilised things like electricity, and reliable phone lines.

Something flickered at her Slayer senses,and Buffy snapped her head around to see a young woman sitting on the stones behind her. In the starlight, it was hard to make out her features, but Buffy was sure there was something a little odd going on with her forehead. She looked slightly... horny.

"Hi," she said warily.

The other woman cocked her head. "Hi," she repeated, brightly. "Your skin is shiny with moisture."

Buffy blinked. That would be sweat, from trying not to throw up. Or maybe tears, which she seemed to be leaking a lot of lately.

"Thanks," she said. "I... like your horns."

The woman touched them. "Horns are a symbol of my people. We have them in whatever shape we take."

"That's nice," Buffy said, and then her eyes widened as she realised. "You're the Charontes demon?"

The woman nodded cheerfully. "That's right. Mika enjoyed destroying your castle. There's no one in it I could take for my mate. The men are all unpleasantly shaped and dull in their minds."

Buffy wasn't going to argue with that, principally because it was correct, but also because a more pressing thought had occurred to her. "You're looking for a male mate?"

The Charontes demon looked puzzled for a bit. "Mika is female. Females always look for male mates. Do you have a mate?"

"No," Buffy said, because all thoughts of The Immortal had completely escaped her mind. The only man she ever thought of was Spike, and he was... "I had one, but he died."

"Oh. Then you are alone," the Charontes said. "Aa-all aloo-oone."

Aside from her disturbing resemblance to Gnarl, the Charontes demon reminded Buffy of someone else.

"So tell me," she said, in her chummiest gal-pal voice, "what kinda guy are you looking for? Do you like 'em tall, dark and handsome? Or are we looking for something more in the mountain wolf kind of line? 'Cos there are lots of fine wolves around these parts."

The Charontes looked slightly confused. "Why would Mika want a wolf? I want a human mate. Mika likes human shapes."

"So what's with the dragon thing?"

The Charontes shifted, and Buffy thought she detected a hint of wings folded behind the demon's back as she giggled. "Mika likes being big. Big is fun."

"But if you were..." Buffy rolled her eyes, "mated to a human, then you'd be small."

"Only when I'm on him," the Charontes said eagerly. "When he lets me take my own form Mika can be huge! If he wants me to." She looked wistful. "I wish I had a human mate."

"Why human?" Buffy asked cautiously, thinking, if she mentions boinking or money I shall be seriously disturbed.

"Humans have money," the Charontes said earnestly. "My mate could spend it on me. I like money. It buys shiny things."

Buffy blinked at the Charontes. Then she blinked again. Hmm, things looked a little misty. And a little darker than they should...

Then everything went black.

"So what'll it be, bit, game of poker?" Spike said, looking around the apartment. "I don't have any kittens, but we could gamble with smokes," he held up a packet of cigarettes hopefully.

"Spike, I'm not gambling for cigarettes," Dawn said. "I don't smoke."

"Then I'll be happy to take 'em off you," Spike said cheerfully. "It's a filthy habit," he added in what he hoped was a serious tone.

Dawn just rolled her eyes, and reached over to pick up the phone, as it started ringing. "Pronto? Oh... Hello. I... She what? Is she okay?"

Spike's head lifted. Buffy.

"What is it, pet?" he asked urgently. "What's happened?"

She batted him away with an irritated wave and listened to the speaker on the phone. "Right... But that's hours! Okay... Yeah... The what? But I thought it was... I so don't get this. Okay, call me when you get to the hospital."

She put down the phone, looking troubled.

"What?" Spike demanded.

"Buffy," Dawn began.

"Yes?"

"She... That was the Russian girl. She said - at least I think she did, I didn't totally understand... She said Buffy's been ill-"

"WHAT?" Spike was on his feet, murderous rage filling him up. How dare they not tell him?

Oh yeah, they thought he was dead. But even so...

"I know," Dawn looked terrified. "She said Buffy collapsed on the ramparts and the Charontes demon had to bring her in. And I'm confused because I thought the demon was bad-"

"Not all demons are bad, niblet," Spike said forcibly. "And Charontes are okay if they're tamed. What about Buffy?"

"Evgeniya's taking her to the hospital. She says it's a really long trip but she'll call me when she's there. Spike, where are you going?"

He was already halfway out the door. "Russia. See you later, bit."

"Danger approaches her," The Immortal suddenly said.

"Our little Slayer? Will it make her fight, and rough and tumble, and break, and bleed?" his companion asked hopefully.

"I think it will," The Immortal said. "But it may take her from our control. It is the danger I feared."

"Ohh, don't fear, my love. For in the world of giants, you are a behemoth."

The Immortal frowned. Then he shook his head. It didn't matter.

"I must go to her."

Buffy woke in a bright room with people prodding her and jabbering in rapid Russian that made it sound as if they'd rolled each word around and spat it out, really really quickly.

She remembered waking briefly in the husky sled, wrapped in thick furs against the freezing night air, but then the Charontes demon had fluttered into her vision and whispered fiercely, "Sleep, human woman! You are not well and I don't want you to die!"

That had confused Buffy more than anything, but she let herself drift back into sleep as Evgeniya drove the team of huskies across the bleak landscape. Now she was awake, apparently in a hospital, thank God. Looking round, she saw Evgeniya and the Charontes huddled together on a couple of chairs by her bed.

"What's going on? Why are you here?" Buffy blinked at the Charontes.

"You are alive!" The demon, who looked smaller than Buffy remembered, threw herself at the bed. "The pleasant woman is alive!"

Buffy stared at the horned woman whose leathery wings were flapping around behind her. "I could be wrong, but didn't you try to kill me a few weeks ago?"

"That was before you were nice to Mika."

"Who's Mika?" Buffy pleaded, horribly confused.

The Charontes demon pointed proudly to herself. "I am Mika! Mika is me! Do you like my name?" she asked aggressively.

"It's very pretty," Buffy said, and turned helplessly to Evgeniya. "What's going on? Do they know what's wrong with me? Can I get some drugs for it, 'cos I feel like hell. Like the worst kind of hell. Like a Glory kind of hell."

Evgeniya looked a little confused by the second half of that, but she valiantly said, "They think you fainted because you are not eating properly."

"Well, I try, but I can't keep anything down!"

"But you must," Evgeniya told her. "In your condition it is very important to eat correctly."

"My condition?" Buffy said. "What the hell is my condition?"

Both Mika and Evgeniya looked at her like she was particularly dumb. "You're pregnant," Mika sang.

Buffy just stared.

"That is the correct word?" Evgeniya worried. "Expecting a child? Did you not know?"

Buffy felt like she'd just been sucker-punched. "Pregnant? But - I can't be! The only man I've - well, he's not a man, he's a vampire, and they can't... There must be some mistake."

Looking worried, Evgeniya got up and hurried from the room to fetch a doctor. Buffy stared at Mika.

"They're just mistaken. That's all. It's all just a big load of mistakeness. Mistake City. That's all it is. Don't they train doctors properly in Russia?"

Mika shook her head sympathetically. "Buffy's gonna have a little baby Slayer," she crooned. "Can I hold it? Mika likes babies."

"You don't eat them, do you?" Buffy asked distractedly.

"Only sometimes," Mika grinned. "But I won't eat Buffy's baby. Buffy is my friend, because she's going to help me find my mate!"

Buffy felt like she had one time when she'd gone to the beach as a little girl and her float had got swept away by the tide. There she'd been, bobbing around helplessly in the currents, miles from anywhere with nothing to support her but a little bit of foam, until her parents panicked and sent the Coastguard out after her.

She felt completely bewildered and very helpless.

"Mika," she said, "do you think you could maybe go and get me a glass of water?"

The demon grinned and eagerly scrambled off to do Buffy's bidding, leaving her alone with tears pricking her eyes. Hormones, she thought, then dismissed the idea. There was no way she was pregnant. The Immortal certainly couldn't manage it, and she hadn't been with anyone else who could.

Or had The Immortal somehow found a way around it?

And what kind of bloody stupid name was The Immortal, anyway? Not the sort of name one wanted one's child to inherit. In fact...

In fact, the more she thought about it, there was little she'd want her child to inherit from The Immortal. Because basically, he was a slimy git with a palazzo he'd stolen and a load of fawning minions.

"Ugh," Buffy said out loud. She must have been under some sort of thrall or something. They all must have!

Right, as soon as she got back to Rome she was so going to kick his poncily-named ass.

Poncy. Oh hell, that was a Spike word. Her tears returned in double force. Oh, Spike. Not that she could see him being a remotely good father, but why couldn't it have been his baby? The man she actually loved?

She blinked, and then she knew she must be imagining things. Because somehow thinking about Spike seemed to have conjured him before her, leaning against the doorjamb, looking at her as if he hadn't seen her in forever.

"I must be losing my mind," she murmured, and blinked. "Am I going to click my heels three times and wake up back home?"

"There's no place like Rome," Spike said, and that deep voice, like sand over silk, reverberated right through Buffy.

"Oh God, Spike, why couldn't it have been yours?"

"Why couldn't what, pet?"

"The baby! Well, I don't think there is a baby, but they seem to think there is and... I don't know why I'm telling you, what with you being a figment of my imagination and all. Hey, you're not the First again, are you?"

"Could the First do this?" Spike said, and strode over to the bed, took her face in his hands, and kissed her with such tenderness and passion that Buffy wanted nothing more than to rip off her hospital gown and shag him senseless there on her rickety hospital bed.

"Spike," she stared in amazement as he pulled gently away. "But... But, you're..."

He gave her a smile, that amazing tender smile of his that was all the sweeter for being so unexpected. "I'm alive, pet," he said. "That funky amulet had a few more powers than we realised. Brought me back. I've been helping out Angel for a spell in LA."

"Angel," Buffy murmured. Briefly, she recalled the reports: that after his huge battle against W&H, he'd not been seen.

"Yeah, pet." Spike's thumbs caressed her damp cheeks. "I'm sorry, love, he didn't... Well, I mean the poncy bugger got what he always wanted, a hero's death, but..."

"He's really dead?"

Spike nodded, looking a little sad. "Yep. Staked by a - well, I don't really know what it was. Abut fifteen foot tall, six arms, lots of fangs - and I mean lots. S'alright though, I hacked its hearts out later."

Buffy ignored the plural of hearts and focused on the problem at hand. "But - you're alive Spike, for a year I thought... Why didn't you tell me?" She glared at him.

But Spike's answer was cut off by Mika, who came skipping back in with a five litre tank of water, apparently stolen from a water cooler. "Buffy," she sang. "I got your - ooh!"

The water tank thudded to the floor and the Charontes stared at Spike. He looked back warily.

"Buffy, love, this your Charontes?"

"Ooh!" Mika purred. "Can I have this one? Will you be my mate, sexy yellow-headed one?"

Spike took a step back. "Uh you know, thanks, but no thanks."

"Mika, I don't think you can mate with a vampire," Buffy said, her head whirling.

"What vampire? I want the sexy man," Mika grinned at Spike.

"I'm a vampire, love," he said, looking slightly relieved.

"No. You're a man." When Buffy and Spike both stared at her, Mika went on as if they were both blind, "He's a man. Heart all beaty," she put her head against his chest to listen, "blood all pumpy. Man."

Spike slowly lifted one hand to his other wrist over Mika's head. Buffy stared. This had to be a dream. It was all insane.

His ice-blue eyes met hers. "Precisely how long," he said, "have I had a heartbeat?"

Evgeniya shrugged. "Of course," she said. "You played a pivotal role in the apocalypse-"

"Uh, pet, it's not an apocalypse unless the world ends," Spike pointed out. He was still pretty stunned, holding Buffy's hand and taking deep, delighted breaths.

"But it did for the nasty beasties," Mika said. "The ones you were fighting with? Their world is all ended. Poof! All gone." She looked a little bit sulky. "Buffy," she whined, "are you sure he's your mate?"

Buffy stared at Spike, who'd sheepishly explained that her erotic dream had been a little more real than she'd thought. She'd promised to firmly kick his ass once her all-day morning sickness had worn off, about which Spike was secretly rather pleased. Mmm, Buffy fighting with him. Maybe he could get her to do it naked? So long as she didn't harm the baby.

He smiled and put his arm around her, feeling her nestle against his shoulder. His baby.

"I'm sure," Buffy said, looking up at him, and he grinned wider. Around her neck was the bloodstone pendant he'd had made for her in Rome. Bloodstone, for strength - as well as a few other symbolic qualities. Maybe he'd get her a matching ring made up too. For her left hand. It'd only be fair to the baby to get married. Yeah. For the baby's sake.

"So all the time the Shanshu was about me?"

"No, my friend," came a voice from the doorway. "Nothing is about you. You merely think it is."

Spike stared at the tall, distinguished-looking man wearing a Victorian frock-coat and cravat.

"Oh crap," Buffy murmured. "Its my boyfriend."

"The hell it is," Spike said. "Mika, do me a favour, love, hand me that chair?"

The little demon did as she was told, handing Spike the wooden chair. He courteously held it out for The Immortal to sit on, but the older vampire declined.

No, not the older vampire, Spike thought with a rush of excitement. The only vampire.

"A seat for my lady," The Immortal said, and held out his hand for someone to come into the room. When she did, Spike just stared.

"Dru?"

Buffy looked suddenly murderous as she took in the coy looks Dru and The Immortal were giving each other. "That's why you didn't follow me as soon as I left Rome? You've been boning that cuckoo's nest?"

"You've been cheating on Buffy?" Spike's newly pumping blood started racing around at top speed. "You filthy bloody pondscum-"

"Now wait," The Immortal held up a hand, and Spike felt his words suddenly stop. "Sweet Buffy. I have transgressed. Will you take me back?"

Spike glanced at Buffy. Oh, hell, she was looking all glazed and dreamy. Sodding thrall!

I've got to learn to do that, he thought.

"Buffy, you can't seriously be considering-"

But Buffy held out her hands to her vampire lover, smiling drippily. Dru giggled in the doorway, and it was that which made Spike suspicious.

"Buffy, he's going to-"

And then The Immortal exploded in a cloud of dust, leaving Buffy sitting there in bed with a smug expression on her face and a stake in her hand.

"What?" she said to the astonished faces surrounding her. "I'm a Slayer, you think I ever travel without a stake?"

Spike laughed. He laughed as he kissed her, he laughed as he took the stake from his hand, and he laughed as he spun around and drove the stake into Dru's chest.

They all looked at the twin piles of dust on the floor. Mika started coughing. "I think I breathed in a quart of vampire dust," she complained, and Spike and Buffy met eyes.

"Mika," Buffy began, "do you think you might be interested in another nicely-shaped friend of mine...?"

The End

AN: Well, there you go, guys and gals. Another little ficlet to amuse you for half an hour. Yeah, so I didn't like all the inconclusiveness of the two series finales, and besides, we all know Spike was going to go to Rome and be with Buffy anyway, right? I just thought I might throw a little Shanshu in there for fun. Take one ex-vampire, add a pinch of prophecy and a couple of gallons of sex appeal, and serve in Rome.

PS. Thanks/apologies to Sherrilyn Kenyon for the Charontes demon. Even if Ash belongs to Amy, I do have a little bit of the Simi... ;)