DISCLAIMER: Everything but the plot is Joss'. Too bad.
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Buffy has learned that the Council has disappeared with Spike, and has gone back to Cortina’s to try and find him…

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

“Buffy, this is ridiculous. For all we know, the reason you can’t sense Spike is because he’s dead---.”

“He’s not dead!” Her eyes shone in hazel fury, and her nostrils flared as she fought to control her breathing. “Did you see any vamp dust in the cave? No. Because he’s not dead. I just can’t sense him because…” Her mind raced for a logical explanation. “They’ve probably got him knocked out somehow, and I just didn’t realize what was going on because I was up to my neck in Council guys. So…not dead, got it?” Maybe if she repeated it often enough, she could convince herself of its truth.

Her Watcher’s face was an exercise of concern, the lines softened as his blue eyes gazed down at her. “Got it,” he murmured in acquiescence, and silently applauded his Slayer’s profundity of belief in her vampire lover’s ongoing existence. This was why she was such a strong fighter; she refused to give in, even when all signs pointed to the contrary.

“So, are you going to help me with this, or not?” she asked, and deliberately lowered her voice, trying to take back some of the anger she had lashed out at him, knowing that he was the last person to be deserving of her rage. The person she really wanted to get her hands on was Travers, to wring from his jowly neck just what in hell he thought he was doing by interfering with her life like this. And if she snapped it in the process, all the better.

“Of course.” He watched as she laid back on the bed she’d only just recently shared with the vampire. “You do realize that if your theory is correct and he is knocked out, he’s not going to have any idea where he is. Reaching him via your unconscious will accomplish nothing.”

“I can tell him what’s going on,” Buffy said. “With the Soul Eaters, and what we’re trying to do to get him back. That’s accomplishing something.” There was more but she didn’t vocalize it to the older man who now sat at her side. She needed to apologize for not being there, to let him know how much she loved him and how she wasn’t going to let this get in the way of anything. And since dreams were her only option at the moment, she would just have to tolerate whatever escapades she found herself wandering into to do it.

“Close your eyes,” Giles instructed, watching as his Slayer let her lids flicker shut, her hands folded across her stomach. “Listen to my voice. Concentrate on your breathing…”

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

She blinked, feeling the chill air against her skin, and rubbed her hands over her arms, hoping the increase in circulation would warm her. Her surroundings were instantly recognizable, but as she scanned the familiar landscape of the desert surrounding Cortina’s caves, Buffy began to wonder if perhaps something had gone wrong. This didn’t seem like the normal stuff of Spike’s dreams. Maybe it hadn’t worked.

She began to walk, footsteps swallowed by the night music, hazel eyes continually scanning the horizon for any sign of the blond vampire. “Spike?” she called out, knowing that if he was here, he would answer. If he could.

“Buffy?”

Her heart leapt at the husky cadence and she began to run toward the sound of his voice. Here, he was here, her soul sang, and skirted the curve of the hill to see him sitting on a blanket on the ground, torso twisted as he watched her race toward him, face spreading into a smile as she practically tackled him, the memory of their last dream tussle as children echoing through their adult bodies.

“Spike…I’m so sorry…god, please don’t hate me…” She was sobbing into his neck, her tears flowing freely now, an amalgam of relief and sorrow washing over her cheeks. She felt his hands come up and begin stroking her hair, those shushing noises he made in the back of his throat soothing her jumping nerves, and allowed her body to relax into his, lying against his chest, pressing him down into the cold earth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and rolled onto his side so that he could look at her directly. “What’s got you in such a lather?”

Buffy’s face wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?” she countered. “The Council grabbed you. That’s a huge pile of wrong right there.”

“I know that, luv. Well, at least I figured it was probably the Watchers who did it. Didn’t really get a good look at their faces before whatever they shoved into my system knocked me out.”

“I told Giles that had to be what happened,” she said triumphantly.

“Still doesn’t explain what you’re all worried about,” he replied. “Or why in hell you’d think I could ever hate you.”

Buffy bit her lip. “Because we can’t find you,” she admitted. “As soon as we realized what they’d done, we went back to where we got Cortina, but they’d already cleared out.”

“Oh.” The back of his hand brushed her cheek, pushing back the hair that had spilled there. “That’s not your fault, pet.”

“I shouldn’t have made you go after Dawn in the first place. If you’d just stayed with us---.”

“---it would’ve happened anyway.” He shook his head at her look of surprise. “It was an ambush. They were prepared for me from the get go. There was no way I was walkin’ out of those caves on my own two feet. We both should’ve sussed it out after they had a go at my crypt.” He rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars. “Wish I knew what it was all about, though. Not like I’m a novelty anymore. They had their chance to ask all sorts of questions back when they were doin’ that checkin’ up on you.”

“Now, on that point, I actually have information.” Propping herself up on her elbow so that she could look down at his face as she spoke, Buffy told Spike about the Soul Eaters and the Council’s intentions for Cortina as she understood them, watching as he absorbed the tale with a pensive frown. “So, it doesn’t have anything to do with the cleansing after all,” she finished. “Even if we don’t know exactly why they want you.”

He was silent, and she could see the thoughts playing themselves out in the dark depths of his eyes, his inability to keep his emotions from lighting his face allowing her to glimpse into his head even without the benefit of their usual connection. “Makes sense,” he finally said, but there was no anger in his voice, no retribution in his tone.

Buffy tilted her head. “Why don’t you seem surprised by any of this?” she asked curiously. “These demons feed on souls, and the Council thinks they want you, too. Is there something you’re not telling me here?” When he glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, she could see the hesitation, the unspoken question on just how much he was prepared to share, and bristled. “No secrets, Spike. You have to tell me this. Do you have a soul now?”

“I don’t know.” His gaze returned to the heavens, his mood contemplative. “It would explain a lot, that’s for certain.”

“A lot of what?”

“Stuff that’s been goin’ on inside my head. Stuff that I couldn’t make head nor tail of.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” She couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.

“Didn’t want to be a moanin’ Minnie,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile that spoke of greater fears than appearances. “I thought it would go away.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, even without being ESP girl, don’t you?”

Spike sighed. “I didn’t want you to have to piddle about with frettin’ on my head when you’ve your own worries to get through.”

“Not that I’m the relationship expert here,” Buffy said, “but it seems to me that if you want this to work, you have to let me in. You have to trust that I want to help you shoulder some of that pain, or confusion, or whatever the feeling of the week is.” When he cocked his eyebrow, she smiled sheepishly. “OK, practice what I preach, I know. But can we worry about that after I get done saving your ass this time?”

“I believe last time it was me saving your ass,” he said playfully.

“I definitely think there is too much mutual ass-saving in this relationship,” she mused, and began tracing delicate patterns on his chest. “I like it better when we’re saving other people. Less worrisome.”

“You’re bound and determined to make a white hat out of me yet, aren’t you, Slayer?” He was joking, and desperately hoping she wouldn’t go back to the other topic.

“You seem to be doing a good enough job of that on your own,” she replied, and let her smile fade. “But you’re not getting out of answering me that easy.”

There was going to be no escaping facing the truth, and he steeled himself for confronting the images yet again. “I’ve been having…dreams.”

Buffy frowned. “I know. I’ve been there, remember?”

He shook his head, closing his eyes as the pictures began to flood back. “Not for these you haven’t. These happen…after.” The heat of the imagined fire on his cheek caused him to wince and Spike briefly wondered if it was possible to dream within a dream. Wouldn’t that be just dandy.

“Are they like…the playground dream?” Though the dread that she’d been feeling had vanished within the proximity of his presence, it returned now with a sickening lurch that tilted the world around her in kaleidoscope shades of pain, forcing her to swallow, to fight the nausea that threatened to burn into her throat.

“They’re…similar.” His confession hurt, and the vampire found himself wishing for the first time in…well, probably ever…that he and Buffy were two normal people, leading ordinary, normal lives, who didn’t have to worry about the supernatural, where their most pressing fear was whether they were going to make the mortgage payment in time, or counting days because she was late and they weren’t ready to be parents yet. It came out of nowhere, and just as quickly as the desire had expressed itself, it was gone, leaving the vampire wondering yet again if this was another manifestation of this growing sense of humanity that had been pervading his being over the past ten days. How could he go about explaining such randomness to Buffy? How could she understand if he didn’t get it? Worse, what would she think?

“Stop thinking so much and just talk to me,” she coaxed, breaking him from his reverie. “Similar how?”

“It’s like how I knew Joyce wasn’t Joyce,” he said slowly. “If what Cort says is true, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out it wasn’t one of those Soul Eaters.”

“Getting into our heads?” This forced Buffy to a sitting position, the alarm in her widened eyes shining in the moonlight. “How? Why? How?”

Spike let his eyes open to gaze up at her. “I don’t know. Just…feels like the truth. Kind of like your Slayer dream, remember? That thing said it was ‘all.’ Maybe it can dig around in our skulls ‘til it finds what it needs to drive us truly and completely barmy. To…hurt us so that we’re distracted by the pain.”

His jaw twitched, his internal struggle a mask that was cracking from the strain, and Buffy felt her own fears get squashed by the anguish that was shattering him before her eyes. Carefully, she laid herself back down, pressing herself into his side, laying her head on his shoulder as her arm stole out across his chest, pulling him into her heat in an embrace that sang of solace. “I can think of better ways of being distracted,” she said, ready for him to back away from talking, to stop the torrent of memories that she was ripping from his lips. Anything to stop the pain. She didn’t need to know. Not like this. Not if this was the price.

He was grateful for the reprieve, expelling the invisible demons in a very audible exhalation, and tightened his arm around her back. “Shouldn’t you be waking up so that you can come find me?” he teased, slipping back into their familiar banter like a pair of his favorite shoes.

“There’s no rush,” Buffy replied. “Not in the not-finding you way. In the me waking up way. Willow’s already got Elvis on the scent.”

“What about one of her locator spells?”

“We already tried that. It didn’t work.”

“So we can just lie here for a bit?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Spike’s lips brushed against her temple. “That’s what I want.”

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

She hated feeling useless. Rupert was adamant about not enlisting demon aid in locating Spike, and as much as she hated it, Cortina was going along with his wishes, not willing to lose what ground they had gained in light of her recent confession. Willow and Tara were off giving instructions to the Hellhound, Buffy was off trying to reach the vampire through his dreams, and that left the Vrolek wandering around the caves in search of a purpose. Any purpose. Just something to distract herself from the sense of inadequacy that she hated so much.

She saw the young girl before she was seen herself, sitting at the edge of the grotto, absorbed in the book in her lap. The Slayer’s sister. Still grieving for her mother. Perhaps this was the diversion Cortina needed to keep her mind occupied.

As she stepped silently closer, the demon’s eyes narrowed as she recognized the text Dawn was reading, and realized just why the teenager had disappeared upon arriving. “It won’t work,” she said softly. “At least not while you’re around me.”

Cortina’s sudden appearance startled her, and she slammed the book shut, shoving it to the side farthest away from the Vrolek. “What won’t work?” Dawn asked innocently.

She smiled. This one was too cute. “We haven’t exactly met,” she said, settling herself down a few feet away.

“You’re Cortina. You’re Giles’ new girlfriend.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Dawn.”

“You know, you’re the first person to call me that.” Her smile widened. “I think I like it.”

“He’s been really happy this week, well, before everything happened. I’m glad he’s got you now.”

Cortina deliberately looked down at the book before returning her gaze to Dawn. “Since you know who I am, does that mean you also know that magic doesn’t work around here? Well, around me, I mean.”

“What makes you think---?”

She cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t waste your energy trying to cover it up. We don’t have time for that now.” She leaned forward and extracted the book wedged at Dawn’s side, rolling it over to look at the spine. “I’ve got two copies of this back in the library. It’s actually quite a harmless little text, except for the whole raising the dead section in the back.” Her pale eyes bore into the teenager’s, who ducked her head, pushing her hair back over her ear in a nervous fidget. “You weren’t really considering it, were you?”

When Dawn lifted her eyes back up, they were brimming with tears. “Why not?” she said softly. “What’s it going to hurt? She didn’t do anything wrong, and if Buffy’s right and those…things killed her…what difference is it going to make? I just want her back. I know Buffy does, too. She wouldn’t argue with me about this.”

“Because it wouldn’t be her you got back,” Cortina replied. “I know it’s hard to look at this rationally right now, but just hear me out. If in fact it was these children of the wind who killed your mother, and you did this resurrection spell, what you would get is a shell that looked like your mother. Her soul is gone. You can’t excise it from whatever took it. You can’t get it back.” She stopped as she saw the tears slip down the girl’s cheek, and suddenly felt like a monster for saying anything in the first place.

“You don’t understand,” Dawn muttered. “You’re just a demon. You don’t care about family or losing someone.”

All of a sudden, she wasn’t so cute anymore, and Cortina felt her own grief return to the foreground, and began to wish she hadn’t stopped to talk to the girl. “I know you don’t really mean that,” she said slowly, choosing her words with care so that her own emotions wouldn’t overwhelm her in front of the teenager.

“How can you, though?” Dawn’s voice began to rise, a shrill knife cutting through the grotto. “It’s not like you’ve lost anything to these soul demons.”

“Yes, I have.” Standing, she slid next to the young girl, placing her arm around her shoulders. “I know exactly what you’re going through.”

The single touch was the only release Dawn needed, and she began to sob, collapsing against the white demon’s shoulder in a paroxysm of pain. “I just want to do something,” she said through her tears, her voice muffled. “I just want to help. I want the pain to go away.”

“I know,” Cortina soothed, and her gaze came to rest on the book she’d left sitting on the other seat. “But that’s not the answer…”

But something else might be…and the possibility began to roll itself over in her brain, the permutations working, twisting, molding to their circumstances, alleviating the grief as she focused on the other. It was a risk, and there was no guarantee that it would work, but it might prove a starting point…and it could very well save some lives…

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

It was the calmest dream they had ever experienced together. Usually, there was lots of running involved, either chasing or being chased, or fighting of one sort or another, and with the exception of her Slayer dream about the Soul Eaters---because she wasn’t sure windy ghosts counted as another person---this was the first time they had ever been completely alone. “Why’d you pick here?” Buffy murmured, watching as the slight desert breeze picked up some loose brush and sent it tumbling in a twisted dance across the sand. “And you do realize it’s actually daytime out in the non-sleeping world, don’t you?”

She could almost feel him shrug. “Dunno,” Spike said. “It’s not like I usually get a say in the matter. Guess something in me decided it was time for a mini-holiday.” His fingers entwined themselves in the loose curls of her hair. “Not complaining, though. Needed time to sort my head out, and this is as good a place as any.”

“What’s there to sort?” Rolling herself over on top of him, Buffy straddled his hips as she sat up, looking down at the shadowed sapphire eyes as they stared up at the night sky. “Those other dreams?”

“Yeah, and now this whole soul business.” Spike’s hands grasped the curve of her hips and tugged her forward, sliding her just enough so that the outline of his growing erection nestled in the schism between her thighs. “Not that I’ve ever given it any serious thought or anything, but if all this is true, it’s sure as hell not how I would’ve imagined it. I mean, where’s the guilt? How come I’m not goin’ all poncy like Angel did? I got more depressed about my existence after those government guys shoved this bleedin’ chip up my brain.”

Buffy frowned as she contemplated the implications of his questions. “I don’t think it’s the same thing,” she finally said. “Angel’s soul was a curse designed to make him feel bad about who he was and what he’d done. Yours…might not even be yours. And if it’s not, then you’re not even playing with a full soul deck. You’ve got half, and I’ve got half, and maybe my half is the one that handles guiltage.”

“Who says it’s all even steven?” Spike joked. “Maybe my soul is bigger than your soul.”

She ground herself lightly into his now-hardened cock, and smiled. “You may be onto something there,” she teased. “Definitely feels pretty big to me.”

He could smell her in the crisp night air, a mixture of soap, sweat, and the delicious musk from between her legs, and his fingers tightened. “You know what I just realized,” he said. “Neither one of us has had a sex dream since that cleansing ritual.”

Buffy laughed. “Probably because we’ve had so much, you know, actual sex. Kinda puts a crimp into the whole needing-it-while-you’re-asleep thing.”

“But the thing is…doesn’t feel like we’re sleepin’.” With a quick buck of his hips, Spike rocked the Slayer just enough off-balance to cause her to bend at the waist, toppling against his chest. “Feel like conducting a little experiment?” he asked, his voice dark in caramel tones.

“Willow’s the scientific one,” she breathed. “I used to duck out of chemistry every chance I got.” Her mouth lowered, small teeth nibbling at the flesh along his jaw, and she felt his hands steal around to her back, pulling her closer against the stone of his pelvis, her own legs stretching out across the top of his.

“Lemme guess. You were more of a phys ed kind of girl.”

She was on her back before she could blink, pinned beneath him as his mouth descended to lick along the side of her neck, following the vein that pulsed there to the junction of her jaw. As tiny goosebumps erupted along her arms, shivers began undulating from the pit of her stomach, radiating downward through the wetness of her pussy, across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Experiment…a success,” Buffy whispered, air suddenly a precious commodity, and felt his chuckle reverberate against her flesh.

“Who says it’s over?” he taunted. “You said there was no rush for you to go back.”

“There’s not.”

“And seein’ as how I’m the one in immediate danger here, I think you’d be wantin’ to make sure you keep me as happy as possible while I’ve still got time to enjoy it.” He’d meant it as a joke, but felt her stiffen, muscles suddenly rigid. Carefully, Spike pulled away enough to gaze into the darkened depths of her eyes. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” she said firmly. “I’m not going to let it.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I know that,” he said. “I was just kidding.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Yes, I was.” His smile vanished. “I don’t want to fuss with this, pet. You don’t believe me, just take a gander in the ol’ noggin next time I wake up. You’ll know I’m not lying here. I don’t do that with you. Not anymore.”

“You didn’t tell me about your dreams.”

“That’s different. That was just not telling. Totally different from lying.”

“Like you didn’t tell me when Giles came to warn you about the Council in the first place.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Spike muttered, and rolled off, rising to his feet to stand facing the desert. “I am not having this bloody fight again.” He began patting his pockets, wondering if he had any cigarettes, and, almost as if in direct response with his unspoken wish, they appeared in his hand, his lighter a sudden lump against his thigh.

“How do you expect me to help you if you don’t give me all the information I need to do it effectively?” Buffy demanded, sitting up and watching as the orange flame danced in the air.

“Never asked for your soddin’ help,” he growled. “I’m not some pathetic wanker incapable of doin’ for himself.”

“Which is why you’re now drugged to the gills and just waiting for whatever Travers has in mind for you.” She shook her head. “Just let me do my job, Spike. All that requires is that you be completely upfront with me. About everything.”

He exhaled loudly, the smoke a clean fog in front of him. “For one thing, I’m not your job, Slayer.” His anger was rising, his eyes flashing gold, the sudden use of her title a sure indication of his fury. In a twisted way, he was enjoying the rush of arguing with her. Certainly didn’t feel like some namby-pamby human now. “I’ll put up with you calling me a lot of things, but not that.”

“I didn’t mean---.”

“Will you just bloody well let. Me. Finish.”

The chill of his voice froze Buffy’s veins, and, deliberately, she closed her mouth, pressing her lips together. There was no denying the rage that edged his words, and she realized that she hadn’t seen him this mad since before the ritual. That couldn’t be of the good.

“You and me,” he continued, “we’re partners. In more ways than the physical one. Which, to me, means equal, whether you realize it or not.” Each word was chiseled, aimed directly at her throat, and he found himself crushing the cigarette between his fingers as he spoke. “Now, I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re scared, and fuck knows I’m not exactly singin’ in the rain either, but that doesn’t make me your latest goddamn apocalypse. What it means, is we work together to sort this mess out. To-geth-er.”

She jumped at his slight pause, desperate to get the words out before he could go on. “Spike, I know that. Which is why I think you need to let me know when stuff like the Council thing goes on. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

“It’s not a matter of scratching, luv.” He tossed his cigarette into the brush and turned to face her full on. “It’s a matter of you trusting my methods sometimes, even if you don’t like them. I got by for over a century before you ever came along. Think I did that just on my pretty looks?” When Buffy’s head jerked sideways, her hazel gaze narrowing to scan the surrounding desert, he quickly glanced to see what could’ve captured her attention, his own frustration at not being able to finish seething under his skin. “What is it?” he bit at her.

“You don’t hear it?”

“Would I’ve asked ‘what is it’ if I’d the faintest clue what was all of a sudden so fascinatin’ to you?” The vampire’s irritation was mounting, and he stomped closer to her, hoping that the proximity might be all he needed to figure out what could possibly have the nerve to interrupt him when he was on a roll.

“It sounds like…”

And, just as if she had never been there, Buffy was gone.

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

“Buffy…”

Though the hand was gentle on her shoulder, it jolted her back to consciousness with a heavy thump, and the Slayer opened her eyes to gaze up into Willow’s worried face. “What’s going on?” she murmured, blinking against the dim light of the room as she sat up. “Is Elvis back?”

Biting her lip, the redhead nodded. “But it’s not good news.”

It was no longer just her and Giles in the room. Besides Willow, Buffy could see the white outline of Cortina in the doorway, with Dawn’s huddled form under her arm. She frowned when she saw her sister’s tear-stained face, but quickly returned her gaze to the pair beside the bed. Probably just still crying about Mom, the Slayer thought. Gotta remember to thank Cort for playing surrogate later on.

“Wasn’t he able to track Spike’s scent?” Please, oh please, she thought desperately. Tell me he was at least able to follow the trail. Give me something to work with here.

“Oh, tracking it was just hunky-dory. It was where he tracked it to that makes the news not so hunky, more of the dory.”

Buffy watched as Willow and Giles looked at each other, one of his hands tucked under the opposite arm as he rubbed tiredly at his forehead, and the feeling of dread returned, the pit that had taken residence in her stomach widening into the Grand Canyon. “What?” she demanded. “Just spit it out. I am soooo not in the mood for games right now.”

“The Hound followed Spike and the men who took him to the Cavanagh airstrip,” Giles said quietly. “The trail ended there.”

“They’ve…got him on a plane?” No! she wanted to scream. They were supposed to leave him here so that I can find him and kick their asses for taking him in the first place. Planes meant far away places, like Greece, or England… “You don’t think---?” she started.

“We’re going to find out,” Willow interrupted. “I can get into their logs and find out where they’re headed, but that means going back to Sunnydale and getting my laptop. Which is why we woke you up.” The redhead’s frown deepened. “Did you…talk to Spike?”

“Talk, fight, same dif,” Buffy muttered and skittered across the top of the blanket to jump to her feet at the end of the bed. “He doesn’t know anything. They shoved some needle full of stuff into his neck and he’s been out of it since they snagged him.” She grabbed her boots from the floor and began slipping them on. “Let’s roll. We can talk strategy in the car.”

She was halfway to the door when Willow’s hand wrapped around her elbow. “What happened?” the young witch said quietly. “Is everything OK?”

“Spike happened.” The Slayer’s voice was clipped, her jaw tense, but under the hard veneer, a small glitter of pain reflected in her eyes. “He’s been holding back.”

“Holding back…how?” Giles queried.

She shook her head. “He’s been having these dreams. When I told him about the Soul Eaters, he didn’t even pretend to be surprised.”

“I thought you…shared your dreams.”

“Apparently not all of them.” Turning on her heel, she crossed the distance to the door and slipped her arm around Dawn, oblivious to Cortina as she stepped away to allow the two sisters room. “You up for going back to Sunnydale?” Buffy asked softly. “I’d rather you were somewhere I can keep an eye on you.”

Dawn shrugged. “Sure,” she mumbled, and allowed herself to be guided from the room.

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

The smoke burned in his lungs, sizzling in silent apathy, and Spike kicked at the loose grit beneath his boot, exhaling a vehement stream that dissipated almost as soon as it hit the chill air. Buffy’s disappearance was hardly a mystery. Someone---Giles, most likely---had woken her up, hopefully with good news. That thought did nothing to lessen the irritation that crawled over his skin, though. Good news, bad news, what the hell difference did it make until he and Buffy sorted out this issue of what being partners really meant?

Somewhere in that beautiful, stubborn, intoxicating, superior head of hers, Spike suspected she still believed herself to be his so-called savior, rescuing him from one catastrophe after another, conveniently forgetting about the numerous times he’d risked his own neck to ensure her safety. Or, if not forgetting, diminishing their importance in comparison to her fucking calling. Pig-headed bint. Too used to bein’ the one in charge. Forgetting there were other players in this little soul game. And he wasn’t just goin’ to sit back and cool his heels while she went and played lifeguard with his sorry ass. Just need a plan, that was all. Something concrete…

“I thought she would never leave.”

The sound of her voice was an ice dagger between his shoulder blades. “Bloody hell,” Spike muttered, and flicked the cigarette away, watching as the red tip glowed too bright in the sparse brush. Not goin’ to look, he intoned silently. Not goin’ to look. But just as in every other time she had appeared to him, there was no resisting the pull, his head slowing swiveling to see her standing at the curve of the hill.

It was perhaps the first time he had never seen her in a dress, but the sight of his almost mirrored reflection only served to remind him that this wasn’t her; it was one of those fucking Soul Eaters deciding to play his mind by looking like her. He stood his ground as she approached, her slender legs looking even thinner in the black jeans, her own black duster draped over her petite form. Even her hair was different, no longer soft and curling, but pulled back sharply from the high cheekbones, the legacy he knew he carried even if he hadn’t seen them for himself in a hundred years.

“Not in the mood for your little games,” he growled, and held his ground. Not goin’ to let her see how she gets to me, he vowed. “I know who you are now.”

“Oh, William.” She sighed, stopping in front of him, one hand reaching up to push back hair that wasn’t out of place. “This isn’t a game. I thought you understood that by now.”

He so desperately wanted to correct her---it’s Spike, damn it!---but knew it was pointless, her use of his human name an affectation designed to drive the diamond tip of her taunts deeper into his flesh. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Buffy’s on to you. You’re not goin’ to get her. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Though he had gazed into the dead cerulean depths time and time again in these little dream jaunts, Spike was still unprepared for the sheer hunger that suddenly gleamed there, her lips curling back with rapacious gluttony as her tongue ran over the tip of her teeth. It was the mimicry of his own mien that rattled him, forcing him to step back, away from her cold touch and even colder words.

“Well, isn’t that gallant,” she murmured. “Foolish and impossible, but nonetheless…gallant.” She followed him forward, matching his every move away with another that would equalize the distance. “You can’t save her. You won’t even be here. You’re the one we desire the strongest. The dark one is just…an incredibly delectable dessert.”

The ravages of his recent argument with Buffy now seemed inconsequential, his desire to protect her consuming his rational thought, steeling his resolve as he planted his boots into the sand, refusing to allow her---it, he reminded himself, not her---to drive him further away. “You won’t get her,” he repeated. “She’ll beat you. We’ll beat you.” Spike laughed, and heard it shatter the air around them. “She knows what you’re doin’. I told her---.”

He didn’t see her move. One moment, she was a black outline against the even blacker sky. The next, she was pressed up against him, one hand around his back holding him indelibly in place, the other wedged between them, its palm pressed to his chest. “You. Did. Not,” she hissed, and Spike felt the fingers from his childhood lengthen, nails honing into claws that pierced his shirt, slicing through his skin, burying themselves in the muscle of his chest.

He couldn’t scream, the pain too exquisite in its crystalline force, and gritted his teeth to bear against it. “Did,” he rasped, and then uttered the one word he’d wished all long to have the nerve to say to her face. “Bitch.”

Her laughter was unexpected. “Oh, I do adore your spirit,” she said lightly. “It’s going to be delightful when you’re one with us,” and with that, her grip tightened, Spike’s blood dripping in maddening rivulets from the heel of her hand onto the ground below.

This time, he could not suppress his screams…

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

It was beginning to feel wrong again. A quick glance into the skies showed the clouds beginning to roil in coal-streaked waves as they clumped and bunched across the heavens, while the leaves in the trees that lined the street were already starting to dance in the quickening breeze. As her eyes darted from the building to the road before them, Buffy’s foot tapped nervously against the floor of the car, her face tense, hands balled into fists in her lap.

“What the hell is taking so long?” she muttered, shooting yet another frustrated glance at the door her friends had only moments before passed through.

“Giles is probably going over weapons and warnings and such,” Dawn said from the back seat. “I’ll bet he’s just trying to make sure Cortina’s safe while we’re gone.”

“If he’s so worried, he should make her come with us,” Buffy grumbled. “We don’t have time for this.” She didn’t really mean it---she knew even the fading afternoon sun was deadly for the Vrolek---but her ill-temper was bleeding into frustration, and the Slayer was feeling the first nibbles of impotence along her too-taut limbs. The Soul Eaters were still here in Sunnydale; the impending storm was testimony to that, and the fact that she now believed she could feel them herself only contributed to the sense of urgency that was growing in her gut.

“Are you really mad at Spike?”

The question was softly spoken, and it took Buffy by surprise, swiveling in the front seat to turn and stare at her little sister. “Why are you asking?”

Dawn shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just…thinking about you two fighting…makes me remember about…” She ducked her head, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Spike’s family,” she murmured. “I don’t want to lose him, too.”

Buffy sighed. “You’re not going to lose him,” she said quietly. “We just had a…disagreement. I’m not really mad at him. Just…slightly tiffed.” And scared, she added silently. Don’t forget a huge pot of scared.

“That’s OK, then.” The teenager tried to smile, but failed, her eyes darkening as she slid herself forward to perch her chin on the headrest in front of her. “When this is all over…can he…well, without Mom around, I was just thinking…” She bit her lip. “Maybe Spike could move in with us…you think?”

It surprised her that she hadn’t thought of that herself, and the sudden image of waking up to Spike every morning---actually being there in body as well as in spirit---reined her nerves, wrapping her in unsuspected warmth. “Would you be all right with that?” Buffy asked carefully, hazel eyes probing the younger Summers girl’s. “You don’t think it would be weird?”

Dawn shook her head. “I think it would be right.” She looked ready to say something more, but her gaze jumped to the side, past her sister’s shoulder. “Here comes Giles.”

“All set?” Buffy asked as her Watcher slide behind the steering wheel.

“There are far too many impossibly stubborn women in my life,” Giles muttered, jerking the key in the ignition, revving the engine as the car jumped to life beneath him.

“I take it Cortina didn’t want to stay,” the Slayer commented.

“Oh, no,” he said harshly as he screeched into the street. “Quite the opposite. She couldn’t seem to get rid of me fast enough. Wouldn’t even listen while I tried to go over what they should do in the event of an emergency.”

The look that passed between the two girls only thinly veiled their amusement. “Cortina’s a grown demon,” Buffy said, carefully enunciating her words as if she was speaking to a child, barely able to hide her smile. “I think she can take care of herself for the half hour it takes for us to switch cars, and grab some clothes and weapons.”

“It’s still a risk,” he rejoined. “Even though the Council seems to have left Sunnydale, they still need her in order to do this binding ritual. We can’t let our guards down for even a moment, or they’ll be there, sneaking in and snatching her away again before we can even blink to stop them.”

His knuckles were white as he twisted the wheel in his hands, forcing the girls to reach hurriedly for their arm rests to right themselves as he swerved around the corner. Buffy’s amusement faded as she caught the play of emotions across his face…the anger, the frustration, the…

Oh. My. God. Giles was in love with Cortina. When did that happen?

“We’ll get back as soon as we can,” she assured, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. “In and out. I promise.”

“I don’t understand why we just can’t continue using my car,” he said. “Then, there’d be no reason for this unnecessary trip in the first place.”

“Because I think Cort’s getting tired of being curled up on the floor under a blanket,” Buffy said. “And let’s face it. As cute as your car is, it’s severely lacking in the leg room department. Mom’s is bigger, and she doesn’t…” Her voice choked as she realized what she’d been about to say, her face flushing as her eyes darted back to meet Dawn’s. The unspoken apology leapt between them.

The younger girl’s gaze was shiny as she slid back into her seat. “It’s OK, Buffy,” she said quietly. “You’re right. She doesn’t need it anymore.”

They drove along in silence, each lost in the web of their emotions. “You promise you’ll be quick?” Giles finally asked, his eyes locked on the road ahead of him.

“Promise.”

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

She could tell from the squealing of the tires that he was angry, but at the moment, Cortina didn’t care. She didn’t have a lot of time, and getting him out of the witches’ apartment had taken far too long. “OK, girls,” she said as she strode determinedly away from the window to the table where Willow and Tara sat. “You two are about to become my new best friends.”

Willow looked up, her eyes wide, fingers frozen over the keyboard of her laptop. “Huh?”

“How long before they get back?” the white demon asked, oblivious to their confusion.

The girls exchanged a quick look before turning back to face her. “Buffy’s place isn’t too far from here,” Willow explained. “So if they’re just going to grab some clothes and pick up the car, maybe…half an hour?”

Cortina nodded, as if somehow the answer satisfied her. “And how long before you can find out where the Council took Spike?”

The redhead relaxed at this query. “Oh, that’s easy. Ten minutes. Tops.”

“She’s really good,” Tara added unnecessarily.

“And once you know that, how long would it take to do a locator spell on Spike?”

“Oh.” This question took Willow back to being surprised. “Um, that usually takes about twenty minutes…half an hour to set up. But then it’s fast.”

Cortina frowned, chewing at her lip. “That’s cutting it too close,” she murmured. “Can you start the set-up before you actually know where he is?”

“Well, yeah, but---.”

“Then do it.” The demon ignored the frowns exchanged between the two witches. “I need some things. Candles, and tabarka ash if you’ve got some. I brought what I had, but I’m not sure it’s enough.”

“For wh…” Willow’s voice trailed off as the list of ingredients tolled its familiarity in her brain, and she slowly leaned back in her chair as her mouth thinned. “I thought Giles said he didn’t want any outside help in dealing with the Council,” she said slowly.

“He said he didn’t want help in fighting the Council.” Cortina’s face was resolute. “I’m not. I’m just making a friendly call on an old friend.” Her pale eyes scanned the two women’s faces, softening slightly. “This is for Buffy and Spike,” she explained, leaning toward them, her white hair falling across her cheek. “Nobody’s going to get hurt. I promise. Now…do you have them?”

Slowly, Willow nodded. “But if Giles asked if we helped---.”

Cortina smiled. “---you had nothing to do with it,” she finished.

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

It wasn’t interfering. Well, it was, but it was interfering in a good way, and it in no way contradicted what Rupert had requested. He didn’t want demons fighting humans, which was understandable, but not once did he say that demons couldn’t help in other ways. Not everyone had to fight to be useful.

As she lit the last of the candles, the circle that surrounded Cortina immediately extinguished, leaving her in the fading afternoon light of the bedroom. Normally, she would’ve expected them to relight themselves within seconds, but this time, she found herself waiting, the digital clock on the nightstand ticking over once…twice…a third time, and, with each passing minute, her hope faded. Damn it, she thought. I didn’t think she’d actually been serious.

She was about to rise from her seat within the ring, calling the whole thing off, when the flames jumped to life, and the gaseous form before her visibly sighed.

“This. Is not. Your cave,” scolded the arrival, her annoyance edging her words. “Which means…this is not a social call.”

“No, it’s not.”

Another sigh, and then the shape solidified before her, taking on the familiar woman’s form, the shock of green hair tumbling over her shoulders. Dolly stood in the center of the room, her head almost touching the ceiling, and grimaced. “We wiped the slate, Cort. You can’t be asking me to bail out your little human pets every time they have a problem.”

“I’m not. This is my problem. I called because I need your help for me.” Slowly, she rose to her feet, and gazed sadly up at her old friend. “It’s the Soul Eaters. They’re back.”

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

The rain had started by the time they pulled up in front of the apartment building again, pelting their skin with thousands of miniscule razors as the girls made a mad dash for the front door while Giles locked up the car. They had been even faster than promised, neither female eager to spend too much time in the empty house at the moment, tossing only the most essential of items into their bags before making a break for the SUV in the drive. Of course, their haste was helped considerably by the Watcher’s insane speed on the roads, but no words were uttered in rebuke, the growing sense of dread silencing their tongues.

Standing in the doorway, Buffy shook the rain from her hair. “Please tell me you guys figured out where they’re going,” she said, not even looking into the room. “Because we don’t have lots of time.” She was halfway across the threshold when she finally looked up, but when she did, she froze, hazel eyes caught by the three pale faces that stared back at her. “What?” she demanded. “What is it?”

They didn’t have a chance to respond before the air thickened between them, and the Slayer held up her arm, holding back Dawn and Giles who had rushed up behind her. Although they had told her afterward about what exactly had happened after the cleansing ritual, and though she’d had access to Spike’s own memories of the events, Buffy had never actually witnessed Dolly’s comings and goings herself, so seeing the immense demon suddenly appear in front of her was disconcerting, to say the least. She wouldn’t even have been sure it was her if it wasn’t for the green hair that flowed down the woman’s back.

“What’s going on here?” she repeated, taking the few steps into the room. Only then did the new arrival turn, and Buffy’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the unconscious form in her arms. “Spike…”

Gently, Dolly stooped to lay the vampire out on the floor, watching as the Slayer rushed forward to kneel at his side. “It’s a good thing I know you’re under a lot of stress right now,” she commented, “because normally I get really pissy about people being that rude when I’m doing them a favor.”

Buffy looked up, confusion coloring the gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, and then turned to face the trio on the couch. “But I don’t understand. What the hell happened while we were gone?”

“Yes, I’m very much interested in hearing this.” Giles’ voice was crisp as he strode into the arm, leaving Dawn hanging back by the open door. His blue eyes were locked on Cortina, who seemed to melt into her seat under his gaze. “You said you wouldn’t get anyone else involved.”

“Hear her out.” Dolly’s voice was commanding, and she folded her arms across her heavy breasts as she pulled herself up to her full height. “And thank you so much for lumping me in as anyone else.”

“Fine. You want the story. You’re going to get it.” Cortina straightened, thrusting out her chin as she spoke. “Just don’t interrupt me too much because Buffy’s right. We don’t have very much time.” Her pale gaze flickered over the group. “We have three issues at hand right now. One. The Soul Eaters are here in Sunnydale. That storm out there? That’s their train, and they’re getting ready to get on the rail and find what they came for.” Her eyes settled on Buffy. “You can feel them now, can’t you?”

The Slayer nodded. “And they know we’re here,” she said, avoiding her Watcher’s surprise as he turned to look down at her.

“Which means we have to get you off this track and somewhere safe,” Cortina said. “That’s two.”

“We got the info on the flight almost right after you left,” Willow volunteered. “The Council’s headed for South America.”

“Issue number three. The Council needs me to bind the Soul Eaters, and they’re not going to stop until they find me. They’ve pretty much got the Hellmouth covered, and my caves are no longer completely safe, so that means until we get more answers, I need to get the hell out of Dodge.”

“But I don’t---.”

Cortina cut Giles off with a wave of her hand. “Do you at least agree on those three points, Rupert?”

He hesitated, feeling the eyes of the women in the room on him, and then reluctantly nodded.

“Good.” She took a deep breath. “So…I decided to call my favorite teleport service for some help. And before you say a word, Rupert, it’s the fastest way to get everyone to safety, and if that’s not your number one priority right now, then you’re not the man I thought you were.”

Two pairs of blue eyes locked in silent battle, but it was the set behind the spectacles that ducked first. “You’re right,” he murmured. “Safety is our primary concern.” He turned to Dolly. “Just so long as teleporting is all you’re going to do.”

The demon snorted. “Trust me. If it wasn’t for the fact that it’s these damn Soul Eaters again, I wouldn’t even be here. But I’ll play taxi as long as it keeps Cort alive, and when this is all over, you guys can just plan on owing me in a very large way.”

“How did you find Spike so fast?” Buffy’s gaze darted from Cortina to the witches, her brow furrowed.

“Well, once we knew where they were headed, we figured we’d do a locator spell---,” Willow started.

“Magic doesn’t work around Cortina,” Giles interrupted with a frown. “The spell would’ve failed.”

“I was going to have Dolly whisk me far enough while they actually did the spell,” the white demon explained. “But as it turns out, she didn’t have to.”

“Yeah,” the redhead said, jumping back into the conversation. “Once I was in the air controller system, finding the coordinates on the plane was simple. That’s pretty much all Dolly needed.”

Rising to her feet, Cortina crossed to Giles’ side. “Doll’s agreed to split us all up,” she said. “She can drop Buffy and Spike off somewhere safe, and get me away from the Council at the same time.”

“For how long?”

“Until we have answers. It took the Soul Eaters a week to get to Sunnydale. We should be able to hide Buffy and Spike from them for a few days, at least.”

He was silent for only a moment. “I’m going with you.”

She didn’t even bother hiding her smile. “Somehow, I knew you were going to say that.”

Buffy sat back on her heels. “Look, Cortina,” she said. “Not that I don’t appreciate all the help here, but I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’m tired of playing hide-and-seek with these things. I'm ready to start fighting them.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” The white demon’s gaze was level, but kind. “Do you know how to kill them? Or do you know anything about this binding ritual that the Council has? Do you even have any idea why the Council kidnapped Spike in the first place?” She shook her head. “You can’t fight what you don’t know, Buffy. Sometimes, the best plan is to hide and wait. It doesn’t mean you’re any less strong. In fact, I’d probably say it means just the opposite. Find your answers first. Then you can fight.”

Though she looked at the Slayer as she spoke, Cortina’s words were directed at all of them, hoping it would be enough to convince them to accept her offer. It had been difficult to talk Dolly into helping the others as well, and if it had been for anyone else, the Vrolek just might have given up and hidden on her own. But it wasn’t. It was for Buffy, and it was for Spike, and most importantly, it was for Rupert, and that meant she would stand by them, even if it meant getting killed as a result of the Council’s little ritual. Not the happiest place to be in the world at the moment, but she couldn’t just back away from them. Not now. Not after realizing how much she really did love the Englishman. She wasn’t Cortina the Destroyer anymore. She wasn’t.

And maybe if she repeated that often enough to herself, she might one day believe it.

Buffy’s look was long and searching, and the room held its breath while it waited for her to respond. “No wonder you and Giles get along so well,” she finally said, with a small smile. “You sound like a Watcher.”

Cortina grimaced good-naturedly. “Oh, god, hit a girl below the belt, why don’t you,” she joked, stealing a peek at Rupert to see him lower his head to hide his own grin.

Behind all of them, Dolly let out a huge sigh. “Please tell me the show is over,” she complained loudly. “Because I’ve got a meter running here.”

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

He was still unconscious.

She hadn’t given it too much thought while back in Sunnydale, and in the flurry of getting their things to prepare for leaving, Buffy had let her worry slip behind her Slayer mask, putting herself through the ultra-efficiency motions that set everybody straight and got the job done. After extensive arguing with Giles, she had finally won in the battle of where Dawn was going, and right now, the teenager was asleep in the next room, hopefully dreaming of cute teenaged boys and proms that didn’t get crashed by demon dogs. The issue of research had been more difficult, with Tara and Willow pushing to be allowed to stay at Cortina’s caves to continue going through her library, while each couple---Buffy and Spike, Giles and Cortina---took their own share of books to read. The witches had won that fight, and now, Buffy was perched on the end of the double bed, their few belongings dropped unceremoniously to the floor, staring at the still form of her lover.

He wasn’t actually that still. Somewhere in the depths of his sleep, Spike was dreaming, moaning and twitching and whimpering in response to some unseen stimuli, and with each passing moment, the tension was twisting within Buffy’s stomach, desperate for him to wake and be rid of whatever it was that was haunting him so. Was it one of those dreams he’d told her about? Was he at that very minute fighting a Soul Eater? In a way, she was almost jealous. Outside of the playground dream, she didn’t think they’d intruded into her subconscious quite as insidiously as they had with Spike, which meant that maybe she wasn’t the important player here. Maybe the Council was wrong. Maybe they didn’t want her. Maybe they were only interested in Spike.

But she knew that wasn’t true. She’d felt them curling around her legs, preparing to feed on her while she’d been locked in ice, staring at her Mom on the couch. They wanted her. There was no mistaking that. But did they want Spike more?

His head jerked then, whipping to the side as the veins in his neck bulged, his hands clawing at the blankets beneath him as his back arched. In a flash, Buffy was there, straddling his hips, strong hands forcing him back down into the mattress. “Spike!” she said sharply, fairly sure just the sound of her voice wasn’t going to work. “Spike!” she repeated. “Wake up!”

He gasped, gulping at the air, almost as if he were trying to breathe, and the Slayer shook him again, more violently this time, desperate for anything to snap him out of this. He’d been unconscious long enough. Time to rejoin the real world.

As her arm drew back to hit him---sorry so sorry---Spike’s eyes shot open, his body jerking upright, sending her tumbling backwards onto the bed. There was a moment of panic in his wide blue eyes as he stared at her, unseeing, and then, his hands began to claw at his t-shirt, tugging at its hem as he pulled it from his jeans, yanking it up and over his head as if frantic to shed a second skin. He was awake---she could feel the confusion mingling with searing pain scouring through his head---but unaware, his only impulse to rid himself of the fire that sheathed him---burning burning hothotsofuckinhot---but even that didn’t prepare her for the sight of his bare chest as it bared to the cool air.

Five curling scratches splayed across the porcelain skin, converging into a blistered burn at their center, almost as if a hand of fire had reached into the vampire’s flesh and just squeezed…

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

Travers’ free hand shook as he reached for the cup of tea on the desk, but that one motion was the only indication that anything was amiss with him. His eyes were blank as he stared at the young man, coldly detached as he sipped quietly at the drink, and he took his time replacing it before him. “How?” he asked, the one word more deadly than any reprimand that could’ve come from his lips.

“We don’t know,” the young man admitted. “He was there when we took off, and he was gone when we landed.”

“What happened to the guard?”

“He…fell asleep.”

“And there’s no dust? He couldn’t have been killed mid-flight?”

The young man shook his head. “But Ms. Summers’ body was left untouched,” he offered, as if that would make any difference. “And there are no signs of a struggle.”

Quentin sighed and lifted his hand in dismissal, watching as the messenger turned on his heel and practically bolted from the room. Spike was gone. He knew it had to be Buffy and the influence of her witch friends; somehow, they must have perfected some sort of teleport spell that had snatched the vampire back, right from under their noses. It was the only possible explanation. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve been proud of her cunning; those types of intelligence and instincts were what made her such a valuable asset to the Council, were why he’d been so diligent in protecting her from the children of the wind in the first place. But now…

Leaning back in his chair, Travers closed his eyes, striving for some semblance of peace from the dread that was filling him. “God help you, Buffy Summers,” he murmured. She was going to need it.

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

Her fingers shook as they massaged the cream into the burns, the accompanying sting in her own chest making her grit her teeth against the pain. You’re not hurt, she had to remind herself. Though it sure as hell felt like it.

On the bed, Spike lay motionless, eyes closed, jaw locked, and it surprised Buffy how solemnly he was accepting the treatment. She could almost hear the vortex of emotions running through his body, a distant hum that vacillated from a quiet ebb to a thunderous roar, yet none of it seemed apparent across the tapestry of his face. It wasn’t normal, not for the chipped vamp. In spite of protestations to the contrary, he was always so proud of his feelings; they were badges of honor displayed for anyone to see. And now he was doing his best to hide them away, tuck them into oblivion, desperately trying to keep them hidden from her. More than any damage his body might currently be displaying, this frightened the Slayer into her own silence. Because it meant he was afraid, and fear from Spike was not something she was used to dealing with.

“Where are we?” His voice was a low murmur, coated in thick sobriety, betraying none of the sensations coursing through him. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes, just rested in repose under her ministrations. It was eerie.

“Dolly’s gotten us away from Sunnydale,” Buffy said softly. “Someplace safe. For a few days, at least.” She added the next as an afterthought. “We hope.”

“Cort must’ve knocked some sense into Rupert then,” he replied. “Don’t see him hiring the demon train to help us sort out this mess on his own.” It was then that he opened his eyes, the sapphire almost completely overtaken by black, the whites bloodshot as if he’d been awake for days on end. “They here, too?”

Buffy shook her head. “Someplace else. Cortina thought it best if we separated for now. Give the Council different targets in trying to find us.”

Mention of the Council was enough to drive Spike to close his eyes again, and he sighed unnecessarily. “Bastards,” he muttered. “Just once, I’d like to get my hands on that Travers bloke and twist his bureaucratic neck. See how he feels havin’ his head messed around with for a change.”

In spite of the violence behind his tone, she couldn’t help but smile. This was the Spike she knew. Tread loudly and carry a huge stick. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him over the past few days.

“S’pose I have Dolly to thank for the rescue,” he continued. “Don’t think Red’s repertoire extends to teleportation.”

“Willow found you first. The rest…” She let the words trail off, wondering for the first time why he was asking her so many questions. He should know these things; they were in her head, plain as day. All he had to do was go looking for them.

That thought he seemed to hear. “Too tired,” he mumbled. “Too hard.” He opened himself up then, letting the wash of exhaustion that was seeping through his muscles surge forward, enveloping her in velvet cloaks that made her want to curl up into his side and sleep. Whatever the Council had used on him had been powerful stuff, and combined with the escapades of his dreams, there was little fight left in the vampire. Only the desire to rest. For a very long time.

“You’re going to have to tell me what happened,” Buffy said, setting aside the cream before stretching out alongside him. Her body curved into his. “It was the dream, right?”

“Don’t know how,” Spike admitted, letting one hand come up to play distractedly with her hair. In spite of the pain, it seemed so far away now, dissipating into vaporous ghosts that fluttered too far along the edges of his subconscious to be caught. Holding Buffy, feeling her heart echoing in his own, drawing upon her strength even as he hated the fact that he was forced to do so…this was real. Not the other. Not the one who mimicked his past. Except, it was. He now bore its mark. Somehow, the Soul Eater had manifested his torture into a visible pain for the waking world to see, and there would be no more hiding, no more denying, no more wishing that it would all go away. It would soon be time to face the truth, to tell Buffy just what was going on and what he thought it meant. And to hope that she didn’t run from him when she knew.

“We can talk about it later,” she murmured, letting her own lids flutter shut. “Right now, just sleep.”

It was that word---sleep--- that drove him up, bolting ramrod straight, knocking a surprised Buffy aside. “No,” he rasped. “No more sleeping. Not ‘til we get this sussed. Not goin’ through it again. Won’t.”

His eyes were wild, his body teeming with electrical charges that animated him more than he’d been since waking. She was almost afraid to touch him; surely there would be some kind of shock in doing so. “So we talk about it,” she said, crawling around so that she knelt in front of him, his legs spread-eagled either side of her hips. “Tell me what happened. Where did you get this mark?”

“Her.” Venom dripped from the single word, hatred and frustration and hurt biting it from his lips. “Bitch was…pissed ‘cause I told you about her. Reached into my chest and started playing with my insides like they were soddin’ silly putty.”

“The Soul Eater is a woman?”

He shrugged. “Don’t think so. I think it just…picked that particular form to…get inside my head. Told you. It’s been messin’ with me, usin’ things only I know to…” His lips pursed, and he swung his legs around her to rise from the bed, pacing along the length of the room in a caged frenzy. “You don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me, but that part of my cranium’s locked up nice and tight against the plundering hordes, which includes you for some reason, and the only one outside of me with the bloody key is that soul-eating hellbitch. And for some reason, she’s taken up residence. And it’s starting to brass me off.”

“So get off your ass and start fighting this thing.”

He stopped, blue eyes wide as he stared at her in amazement. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doin’?” he asked. “Who got you out of your house when you found your mum’s body? And who was the one that helped you on the playground? I deserve a little credit here, at least.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Buffy inhaled deeply, struggling to control her own temper. With their minds linked as they were, his fury was contagious and it was all she could do not to begin feeding off of it herself. “What I meant was…you’re angry? Then, use it. Focus it on beating these things.”

Spike snorted. “Like we know how to do that.”

“Maybe we don’t. But it means we try harder to figure it out. We’ve got allies in this…Cortina, and Giles…we don’t have to face these things alone.”

He stopped in his tracks, eyes hooded, gazing down at the flush in her cheeks. “Have we come back to this, then?” he asked quietly. “Because I’ve got no problems hashing this out.”

“Back to what?”

“Us. Partners. Facing things alone.”

She regarded him, hazel unwavering. “You’ve been out of it for a long time,” she said slowly. “And a lot of that time, all I could do was sit around and think.” She attempted to smile, and failed. “Not my favorite pastime activity. Makes my head hurt.”

“I meant what I said, Buffy. You’re used to bein’ a lone gun, even if you do have the witches, and Xander, and Giles for back-up. I don’t fancy havin’ to play at bein’ Mr. Slayer, and watchin’ you do my fightin’ for me.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Not that I don’t love watchin’ you fight,” he murmured, and leaned forward to crawl onto the bed. “And not that I don’t appreciate havin’ you watchin’ my back. It’s just a matter of balance. And right now, you’re tryin’ to tip the scales.”

“It’s not like I’m trying to be tippy.”

His hand came up to brush back the hair from her face, to see the honest despair in her eyes. She believed that so strongly; maybe that was all that mattered. “Just don’t be thinkin’ that I’m not capable,” he said. It wasn’t an order; it was a request, softly spoken, hiding a century of pain. He needed her to believe in him so badly; he could only hope that she would understand that without him having to actually say the words.

“Trust me. That is one thing I don’t think.” Reaching up, Buffy skimmed a finger over the burn mark on his chest. “But I can’t stand seeing you in pain, either. And if that means I sometimes rush into fixing it the only way I know how, you’ve got to understand that’s because that’s who I am.”

Spike caught her hand in his, entwining their fingers. “As long as I get the same consideration.”

“Like I’m going to be able to forget that jump into the middle of the cleansing ritual,” she teased. “Mr. Impetuous. That’s who you are.”

This was better. This was familiar ground. The banter, the ease, the implicit trust. There was so much buffeting them at the moment, tossing them from rock to rock, leaving tiny wounds and scars along the way, that they both knew the only way they were going to survive intact was by holding on to the other, and most importantly…believing.

When his lips met hers, they lingered in a gentle caress, not completely devoid of passion but not consumed by it either. “I was thinking,” Buffy said as she pulled away.

“Dangerous,” Spike murmured with a smile.

She slapped at his arm playfully. “I was thinking,” she repeated, “that this Soul Eater doesn’t bother you as much when I’m with you, right?”

He immediately sobered at the mention of the other. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But it’s still there. Don’t forget the playground.”

“But we dealt with that. Together. So, maybe, if I go to sleep first, then you go, you can still get some rest, and we can have a mini-reprieve from things that go burn in the night.”

As much as he dreaded the thought of returning to face the Soul Eater, Buffy’s plan had a twisted Slayer logic to it, and Spike knew that both his body and his head needed the respite. With her there to help fend off any more attacks, surely it would be safe enough to risk. Her last dream had actually been kind of fun before demon Joyce stepped back into the picture. And maybe the distance they had gained from Dolly’s teleportation was enough to weaken the hold it seemed to have on his head.

“You promise not to dream of anything skating related?” he quizzed, his tone noticeably lighter. “Not sure if Slayer on Ice is necessarily better than dealin’ with demons that like to play field hockey with my entrails.”

“You should be grateful for one of those,” she said, pulling him gently back to lie down on the mattress. “I haven’t had one of those dreams where I find Giles and my mom having sex in my bed since this got started. That kind of thing will scar you for life.”

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

His back was to her, his head bowed over the book before him. He was tired, just as they were all tired, but his determination was unflagging, reading through the texts they’d brought with them with the same devotion she’d come to recognize in the Watcher as part of his dedication to his Slayer. “You’re being very quiet,” Cortina said from the bed.

“I’m reading,” Giles replied without turning around. “Contrary to the teenage mythos, it’s generally a silent occupation.”

“You won’t do Buffy any good if you’re too worn out to function. Come to bed.”

“And I won’t do her any good if she manages to get killed because we didn’t find the answers in time,” he countered.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Cortina wrapped her arms around them, hugging them to herself as the shivering that had been threatening to overwhelm her since their arrival began to succeed. “Just come out and say it,” she begged. “I’m a big girl. I can take it. And it’s infinitely better than having to sit here and watch you play the Quaker meeting game any longer.”

She saw him raise his head, heard the heavy sigh as he pushed himself away from the desk. “What is it you expect me to say?” Giles asked, half-turning in his seat to gaze back at her. “Thank you for undermining my authority? Or perhaps you’re more interested in my undying gratitude for involving demons in what should really be none of their business. Either way, you’re not getting it.”

“And neither are you,” she bit back. “Big picture here, Rupert. I have access to resources that you don’t. As long as nobody gets hurt as a result, what does it matter if I take advantage of them?”

“You did it without telling me.”

“Because you would’ve stopped me if I did.”

“That’s not the point---.”

“No! That’s very much the point!” Her breathing was labored, her normally pale skin starting to flush from the combination of frustration and ire coursing through her veins. “I am not a child, and yet you’re constantly treating me like one. All right. So, maybe, I haven’t been exhibiting the most grown-up tendencies over the past couple days. I think I’m a little entitled to some rash behavior in light of the fact there’s a group of crazy Brits out there who are only interested in me as a…whatever, in this binding ritual of their’s. But you were the one who convinced me we can fight this thing in other ways, Rupert. So why start criticizing my methods when I do?”

“Because it won’t stop there. Involve one demon, and then there will be another, and another, and eventually, you will have turned this into exactly what it’s not, a battle between the demon world and the human world. I won’t allow that to happen.”

“Why not? That’s what you live, isn’t it? Guiding the Chosen One in her battle against the evil demon populace?” Cortina shook her head. “Don’t be fooling yourself into thinking this is something it’s not. You’re smarter than that. You’re better that that.”

His eyes flashed behind his glasses. “Since you seem to be so full of the insight into my thinking,” he snapped, “why don’t you share what you believe this is about?”

Her nails dug into the flesh in her arms, drawing blood that began to dot the fabric of her robe. “Don’t make me say it out loud, Rupert,” she warned.

It pulled him from his seat, compelled his feet to cross the distance of the expansive room to the foot of the bed. The tension wound through his body in serpentine coils, but his increased proximity did not open his eyes regarding his lover’s agitated state. Instead, Giles seemed focused on her face, his own jaw rigid. “This is so much bigger than you think, Cortina,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “Your dilettante psychoanalysis is only a distraction. I won’t let you distract me from helping Buffy.”

“But it’s not,” she argued, and let herself go, crawling forward to the edge of the mattress to kneel in front of him. “Bigger, I mean. It’s about the same thing it’s always been for you. Get the answers to stop the bad guy. One on one. Or two on a horde, as this case may be.” Slowly, she lifted a trembling hand to press it against his chest. “You want me to say it? All right.” The deep breath Cortina took rattled through her lungs. “You don’t want me contacting anyone remotely demonish for help because you’re afraid that I’ll return to being the Destroyer. That it will somehow open a door for me into the violence I used to get off on.”

When he began to edge away, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, hooking him so that he was forced to stop, to confront her as she laid it bare for him. “That’s ridiculous,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction, the truth of what she was offering only now seeping into his consciousness.

“No more ridiculous than you thinking that if that can happen to me, it could happen to you as well.” Cortina’s mouth softened, her eyes sad. “I know you fear it. I know that you live every day with Ripper just underneath your skin. Mine is the voice of experience, Rupert. I think you should listen to it.”

“I am not…I told you. Those days are behind both of us. We are who we are today because of them, but they are not us anymore.”

“Yet the fear remains, because when times get hard, and we find doors closing around us, it becomes more and more difficult not to revert to methods we know have worked in the past. Destructive, nihilistic, and violent methods that terrify the people we are today. Even as we remember the thrill of the freedom it gave us.” Her pale eyes dropped. “I can still taste the bloodlust when things get bad. Hot, and spicy, and so alive that I wonder how I ever gave it up in the first place. And then I remember their screams. And I remember the pain. And I remember not liking myself very much.”

His arms went around her automatically, forgetting his own thoughts as he lived through hers, and when he felt her press her cheek against his racing heart, Giles closed his eyes, bending his head to press his forehead against the white of her hair. “I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured.

“And you won’t,” Cortina assured. “Just like I know I’m not going to lose you. We’re stronger than that. We can’t run from our pasts. You told me that, remember? But we can’t ignore them either. Not when they offer so much for us to learn from.”

Against his will, the chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Just my luck to fall in love with someone smarter than me,” Giles said, pulling away just enough to look down at her again. “I’m going to have to do something about that.”

“Sleep,” she instructed, tugging at his hand. “That’s all you need.”

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

The time for playing nice was over. As his jet cut silently through the air, Quentin regarded the colleague who sat opposite him in cold approval. “That’s an interesting suggestion,” he said, rolling the pen between his fingers. “Not one I’d expect to hear from a Watcher.”

“These are desperate times,” the young man said. “Normally, I wouldn’t presume to approach you with such an idea, but---.”

Travers waved a hand in dismissal, cutting the other man off. “No reason to justify your motives,” he said. “Your assumption is correct. If we don’t stop the children of the wind from finding the Slayer, we not only lose our strongest warrior, we will potentially also lose our reason for existing as an organization. There are forces gathering on the Hellmouth for which we need Buffy Summers, in peak fighting condition. We cannot afford to have her sacrificed if there is a way for us to prevent it.” He wrote a note on the pad in his lap. “Are they still watching the others?” he asked.

“Yes. We’ve received word that the two witches returned to the Vrolek’s caves. The other two seem to be going about life as normal. It doesn’t appear that the Slayer has involved them very heavily in this.”

Quentin nodded. “I’m going to have the seers back in London intensify their search. In the meantime, dispatch a team to bring in Miss Rosenberg and Miss Maclay. It seems that Buffy may need some encouragement to return to the fold…”

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

The first thing she felt was an overwhelming heat, licking with kitten tongues across her skin, up her muscled calves, tickling the back of her thighs before caressing the curves of her waist, wrapping and embracing her in a sheath that promised exquisite pleasure alongside the burn. She could smell the sand beneath her cheek, coarse and gritty where it clung to her outstretched arm, and inhaled the scents of the ocean as they drifted in from the water. The beach. One of her favorite non-slayage places to be.

Between the soft lapping of the waves against the shore and the warmth prickling her eyelids, Buffy felt the sudden need to sleep, and wondered briefly if she could risk it, if a short nap in the sun would turn her into a lobster or if she had remembered to put the sunblock on before lying down. Better to be safe than sorry, she thought, and reached blindly out to her side, feeling around for the bag she knew was there.

Her fingers curled around the fabric, dragging it closer, but when it caught, stopping her arm in mid-crook, Buffy frowned, her eyes flickering open to blink against the blazing afternoon shine.

"Thought this was s'posed to be my little part of this fantasy," Spike drawled, his hand tight around the bag, his skin glowing even more white under the sun's rays. "Or am I remembering your dream wrong?"

Though he was really more of an outline, Buffy smiled, realizing for the first time that she was actually asleep, that all this was one of her own dreams manufactured by her subconscious, hopefully to provide her with a much needed respite from the whirlwind of death and drama that seemed to be winding around her in the waking world. "Actually," she said, rolling onto her side and propping her head up in her hand, "you kept your mouth shut during the sunblock bit. I didn't know it was you until I felt the…" Her gaze dropped to the hand curled around the bag's strap. There, on his long finger, rested the Gem of Ammara.

He noticed it as she did, and let go of the bag to hold his hand up, fingers splayed. "It's heavier than I remember it," Spike noted, testing its weight, and twisted it around his knuckle with his other hand. "Wonder what would happen if I took it off? Think I'd go poof?"

"Don't!" Grabbing his hand as it began to tug at the ring, Buffy looked up at him in shocked horror. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

His lips curled into an amused smirk. "Just a dream, luv. It's not like I'm goin' to burst into flame for real."

"And you know this because…?" Sitting herself up, she looked pointedly at the deserted beach around them. "Last dream you had, you woke up with some very real burns. Or had you forgotten that part already? And just because it looks like we're alone here, doesn't mean there still might not be something dangerous lurking about. Don't be helping it by doing something stupid."

Slowly, his smile faded, to be replaced with that pensive worry she'd been hoping to forego in dreamland. "Guess you've got a point there then," Spike murmured, letting the ring slide back down his finger to rest comfortable at its base. He glanced up at the blazing sky, squinting against the too-bright sun. "How the hell can you see in this?" he complained, shielding his eyes from the brilliance. "It's givin' me a headache."

She was on him in a second, forcing him to lie back on the hot sand, straddling his hips and pinning his arms so that he had no choice but to look up into the cloudless blue. "So don't look," Buffy teased with a smile, giggling as his brow wrinkled, eyes narrowing to slits as he fought to make her out.

"Bloody wench," he murmured, but there was a laugh behind his tone. Before she could react, he had thrown her off, sending her tumbling to the side, and leapt to his feet, standing before her with a wide grin on his face.

With both of them able to look at the other now without being blinded by too much sunshine, Buffy found her heart hammering inside her chest as she gazed at the vampire, her mouth suddenly dry. He was beautiful. There were no other words for it. Before Spike, she would've felt silly placing such an adjective at the feet of a guy, but now, it seemed the only one appropriate. Beautiful. And hers.

Sculpture come to life, marble-like skin that glistened in the brightness, power housed within limbs that knew both violence and gentility. He was such a contradiction in terms, a demon and not, a man and not, capable of the most heinous of crimes yet possessed with a certain selflessness for those he deemed important in his life. Of course, most of the badness had been in the past, prior to his coming into contact with Buffy, but it was still there, a part of him, a part of who he was, and the fact that he now chose to move on from the worst of it meant more to the Slayer than any words he might say. She only hated that it had taken her so long to finally figure it out.

She tilted her head, hazel gaze sweeping over him, and bit back the smile that sprang to her lips as it hesitated over his hips. Obviously, he hadn't noticed yet…

"What?" the vampire asked, catching the aborted grin, noticing where her eyes were lingering. "What's so…" His voice trailed away as he glanced down and saw the brightly patterned swim trunks that hung loosely from his lean hips. "Bugger," he muttered, then looked up at her through his lashes, eyes flashing. "You couldn't have made them black? I look like Harris!"

Buffy laughed. "I don't know. I think they're kind of cute, in a geeky, my mom does my shopping and I got dressed in the dark, kind of way."

"Well, if you think I'm wearin' 'em for one more second, you've got another thing comin'."

As she watched, Spike yanked the drawstring that held the fabric up, loosening the waist and allowing them to fall from his hips, kicking them into the surf with a vehement lash. "Ooo," she cooed with a small purse of her lips. "I think I like this much better."

His body hadn't been excited before, but a comment like that couldn't go unattended, his cock already starting to swell as his platinum head lifted to stare down at her. "Turnabout's fair play," he drawled, and let his azure gaze sweep over the tiny bikini that barely covered her.

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, knees drawing up to hide her body. "You're kidding! Somebody could come along!"

"It's a dream, Buffy. And there's nobody else here." He took a lazy step forward, tilting his head. "Not like I haven't seen it all before anyway."

"Do you have any idea how badly I'll burn? And in places where it will most definitely not feel good. Not that sunburn ever actually does, but…" She'd been inching herself backward while she spoke, eyes locked on Spike as he edged himself closer, knowing as she spoke that this was all just part of the game, that both of them knew there was no real intent behind the words. That's what made it fun.

His foot caught the strap of the bag as he passed it, kicking it up into the air and catching it in one deft move, all without stopping his pace forward. "That's what the block is for."

"I'm not going topless---."

"Topless, bottomless, the whole kit and caboodle, pet."

When he dove forward, meaning to tackle her, Buffy shrieked in delight, rolling to get out of his way, and watched as he landed with a thud in the sand. "Gotta catch me first!" she cried, and was about to scamper to her feet when an icy hand clamped around her ankle.

"We've played this before," Spike said, dragging her across the beach while he crept forward himself. He pinned her against the coarse grains, and began playing with the straps of her suit. "Not really in the mood for tag right now."

She held her breath as his fingers slid down to the tie between her breasts that connected the two halves of her bikini top, tugging at it gently to loosen the knot there. "No games then," she whispered, and reached out to stroke the corded muscle of his thigh.

"No games," he agreed.

When the inferno of the sunshine spread over the expanse of her now-exposed breasts, Buffy groaned, jaw dropping as her eyes fluttered shut. It was more relaxing than she'd felt in days, like being wrapped up in the warmest blanket on the coldest night, with her mother's arms tightly around her. Calming. Except thinking about her mother only brought back the bad stuff and questions she had no answers to, so quickly she shuffled those comparisons to the back of her brain, opening her lids to bring her back into the moment.

He was lying half-on, half-off her, propping his head up in his hand as he gazed at the curve of her breast, his fingers tracing curlicues in the air above it, so close and yet so far to contact that the anticipation of feeling him touch her made her ache. "Y'know," he said softly, "does it ever occur to you that this thing between us has only been going on for a couple weeks now? Sometimes, with all this head readin' business, it feels like it's been forever, but when we're like this…" His voice trailed off, his eyes dark even in the afternoon sunshine.

"Do you wish it was like this all the time?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a question she'd been dying to ask since before the business with the Soul Eaters had even started, but in light of all their angst over the past few days, it had slipped her mind. Now, though, seemed like a good time to talk about it. While they were in a good place. Because she knew her answer to that question and could only hope that Spike would feel the same way. Of course, it wouldn't make a difference in the long run, but being on the same page was always of the good. "You in your head, me in mine?" she added as clarification.

It took him a long to answer, his gaze seemingly captivated by the hardened bud of her nipple, the shadow of the curve beneath her breast. "I don't like how you get all the bad with the good," Spike finally said. "I don't like hurtin' you, and knowin' that some of the rot that runs through my head is less than pretty makes it…rough tryin' to keep it in check."

"I'm not complaining," Buffy started, but was silenced by his fingers on her lips, cool against the fever of her flesh.

"I wasn't done." His eyes lifted, and the softness behind the storm of his gaze automatically netted the butterflies that had started fluttering in her stomach. "Harnessing those kind of instincts isn't my favorite thing to do, but I've been doin' it to some degree ever since they shoved this chip up my brain. So, I guess I can learn to take it that extra step so you don't get the spillover of carnage I can't help but consider every once in a while." He paused, his thumb trailing over her chin. "The other thing is…I don't like not havin' the control, of thinkin' someone else might be at the wheel and I'm stuck belted in the back, just watchin' the scenery go by."

"I haven't taken your control…have I?" The worry that she'd overstepped the boundaries she'd placed on herself swelled within Buffy's breast, and her hazel gaze swept over his face, silently begging him to allay her fear. The last thing she needed right now was to ruin what was probably the best thing that had ever happened to her. If she drove him away the same way she'd driven away Riley, she wasn't sure what she was going to do.

"No," Spike was quick to assure, the lone word a hush against her cheek as he bent to sweep his lips over the swell of her mouth. "It's not you. It's the situation. The watching from the sidelines while life goes on around you. Like when you found your mum. That was…" How could he finish the thought? Crippling? Overwhelmingly painful? It seemed to escape definition, and he growled with the frustration of being limited by words.

She let her eyes close against the disappointment that she knew suddenly flared there. "So I guess that means, you'd be all for having Giles and Will find some way of reversing all this once we get past this Soul Eater business," she said, and tried not to let the bitterness slide into her tone.

"I didn't say that. Buffy, luv, look at me." He waited until she lifted her lids again, and refrained from sighing out loud at the sorrow he saw there. Bollocks. He hated when he messed up what came out of his mouth. "What I'm sayin'," he murmured, "is that at the end of the day, considerin' what bein'…connected like this might mean inconvenience-wise, I wouldn't trade it for all the blood in China. Because there's so much more good that comes of it." He pushed back her hair from her forehead, watching the sun glint in the strands of gold, and felt a twinge of sadness that he'd never be able to see it dance so during their waking hours. "You give me life. Exhilarating, pulse-pounding, glorious life. It used to just be all about the metaphor. That's what lovin' you felt like before." He chuckled. "Now it's the real deal."

Relief washed over her, allowing the heat from the sunshine to permeate the muscles that she'd locked against the potential pain of hearing him disavow the bond between them. "Maybe we can work on those privacy issues," she said with a small smile. "Find ways to give each other just a little bit more alone time."

"Maybe," he agreed, his voice barely audible as he feathered a trail of kisses down her cheek. His next word was a mere breath. "Later."

The moan escaped its tether from the back of her throat as Spike's cool tongue traced the whorl of her ear, his hand dancing down her side to caress the curve of her hip. The tension that had been building in her body vanished, sinking into the sand beneath her as if pulled by some huge invisible magnet, and Buffy was left with the exquisite lethargy that should only come at the hands of an excellent masseuse. Well, except Spike is very much good with his hands, she thought lazily, the corner of her mouth lifting as her knees seemed to part of their own accord. He definitely qualifies, even if he isn't really touching me in that way. Yet.

His knee was nudging hers further apart, allowing his hand better access to the moisture that was dripping down her slit, and as his index finger traced a path around her outer lips, Buffy turned her head to him, taking him by surprise by meeting his mouth, and echoed the tenor of his strokes with the lazy search of her kiss.

Everything was forgotten…the grief that had suffused both of them since discovering Joyce's body…the unspoken fear of the mostly unknown enemy from which they were both running…the anxieties that had stretched taut two sets of nerves as they fought to define themselves within the confines of their unconscious link. None of it mattered. Not then. And somehow, each of them instinctively knew that when they woke from this particular dream, the world would seem sharper, edges honed to a clarity that would make confronting it all that much simpler, their path a clear line before them.

Buffy's fingers wove through the curls at the base of Spike's neck, pulling him closer so that their kiss deepened, tongues searching and battling as they feasted on the other's mouth, her breath catching in her chest as two of his long fingers slid inside her slick channel. Thrusting them in and out, his thumb flicked over her clit as they worked, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through her pelvis that brought a corresponding moan to her lips.

Spike chuckled as he broke free, sliding to nip at the scar on her neck. "So," he drawled, "do I remember something 'bout 'fuck Mr. Nice Guy' from that first little dream of yours?" He punctuated his words by plunging a third finger into her sticky depths, eliciting a hungry moan from the Slayer who writhed in the sand beneath him.

Shivers rippled down her spine with each powerful drive of his hand. "Told you," she panted. "You…white hat…get used to…it…"

The taunt prompted a growl from the vampire and the amber flecks danced behind his eyes. "Not a nancy boy," he snarled, and added the fourth finger, stretching her to a satisfying fullness, heedless of his nails as they flicked across the wet inner walls.

Buffy smiled, in spite of her growing incapacity to control her muscles, or her inability to contain the responsive thrusting of her hips as they met each of his strokes. "Poof," she teased, and gasped when his head dipped to catch her nipple between his teeth.

When he felt her clench around his fingers, Spike hissed, his cock jumping against her thigh, straining to just bury itself deep into her pussy. Not yet, he reasoned silently, his head swimming from the scent of her skin. Want to make this last. But the warning came unbidden, the niggling reminder that this was still just a dream and either of them could wake at any moment, be yanked from the bliss that was surrounding them in a fraction of a second and leave the other alone and unsatisfied. Better to just take what he could and enjoy it for as long as possible. Time was not currently their friend.

Pulling his hand free, Spike slid his mouth up the curve of her breast to her neck again, positioning himself over her so that the tip of his erection hovered above her slit. "Love you so much," he murmured, readying himself to enter, but was startled by her powerful hands grasping his ass and guiding him inside, a single thrust that made her back arch away from the searing sand.

The movement ground her clit into his pelvic bone, and his head dropped, his eyes closed, as she held him there for what seemed an eternity, the muscles in her hands kneading his buttocks while her inner ones pulsed around his cock. Scorching from below and above, her heat battling with that of the sun, and Spike felt like he was ablaze, his flesh threatening to slough away as it mounted in a piercing torture that made his mouth water. When she finally loosened her grip, allowing him to ease, he took no pause as he proceeded to pound into her channel, driving her deeper into the sand as her hands slid up, her nails clawing at his back.

"Spike…"

His name was a long, drawn-out exhalation, her pulse quickening to the point where he feared her heart would jump from her chest. For a moment, the vampire considered slowing, the momentary worry that he was hurting her skittering across his mind. Mustn't hurt Buffy, he thought, and felt the draw to ease.

Almost immediately, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, not breaking the porcelain skin, but searing him with pleasure, and Spike roared, his demon emerging as his back arched, plunging himself deeper, more frenzied…her pussy squeezing and milking him with power unrestrained…undulating in tremoring waves as she came beneath him, the screams torn from her throat as her every muscle tensed from the relief.

His teeth clenched as he felt his balls tighten, his body go rigid as his cock shot deep inside her, and his fangs drew blood from his own lips as the tide overtook him. It was only when it ebbed did the demon recede, his tongue lapping at the blood that stained his mouth before lowering himself to suck at hers, swallowing her breath as they both came down from their orgasms.

"Only you," he whispered against her skin as he collapsed on top of the Slayer. "Always you."

"Us," Buffy corrected, and ran soothing fingertips over the scratches she'd left on his back. "Always us."

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

What the hell am I doing? Dolly thought as she materialized in the dimly lit library. I've got to be out of my mind. Yep. That's it. I've officially gone wandering into bonkers world because that has got to be the only reason I am checking up on these silly little humans. Damn Cort. She is definitely going to pay for me going soft.

It was deserted, not what she'd been expecting at all. A quick sweep of the stacks confirmed for the green demon that the room was empty, no sign of the two witches anywhere to be found. Odd, she mused as she stepped out into the hallway. They're supposed to be researching. So much for due diligence. And here I thought the redhead might actually be worth something. The power had certainly leaked off her in corrosive flashes during the brief contacts she had had with her. Guess she'd made a mistake.

Halfway down the corridor, though, and she came to a halt, the dead bodies of two of Cortina's guards barring the way. Their necks had been slit, their blood still flowing to stain the earth in colorful hues, and Dolly felt a growing concern as she stopped to listen, smelling the pervasive scents of human in the air, fading into a mist should another one be lurking about. Not good. Not good at all.

As she floated further along, she found another corpse, this one a black-clad human, its weapon crushed at its side, and stopped, her need to continue stifled as she realized what had actually happened. Cortina's not going to like this, Dolly thought as she faded away. And something tells me the Slayer's going to be none too pleased when she finds out that her precious Council has snatched her little Wicca friends…