Summary: 3rd in Forever Series. After Hawaii Forever and Sunnydale Forever. Spike and Buffy go to England to build a new Watcher’s Council. They meet up with old enemies and allies as they try to rebuild their relationship.

Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters just the story they are set in. Blah, blah, blah

A/N: Thank you Melanie for being a wonderful beta!

Chapter 1

Walking off the plane, Spike huddled under his duster. He really wasn’t afraid of the sun popping out in the cloudy sky, but Buffy was worried. Not only was she worried, but hormonal, too. When she asked him to don the coat, he refused, but she pouted let tears form in her eyes. She made it virtually impossible for Spike to say no. She didn’t even bother to use their link to get him to agree; he caved almost instantly.

Grumbling all the way off the tarmac, Spike hit the building first. Then Buffy and Giles entered. Spike whipped off the duster and looked around. It had been awhile since he had been in the Heathrow, but it still looked the same. The last time he was here, Drusilla and he were looking for a tourist to eat. She called it exotic food. He smiled at the memory of his earlier life. They had some wild times here. Buffy sauntered up to her vampire mate, “Thinking about old times?”

Spike shook the memories out of his head and smiled, “Love, you know you’re the only one for me. Wouldn’t trade you in for the world.”

“I know, but it’s nice to hear it every now and then.” She smiled and kissed his chin, letting her lips linger on his pale skin. She knew that he was just reminiscing and not yearning for that life again. The claim told her that he was more than happy to be next to her for the rest of her life and then some. Buffy mused about how her life had changed in the past two months. Through the claim, Spike seconded her thoughts of increased happiness. Smiling at each other, they melted into a kiss.

Giles cleared his throat, temporarily breaking their bond and bringing them back to the outside world. They were standing inside the doorway, next to the windows, when the sun just started to peek out from behind a cloud. Jumping out of the light and patting down his smoking arm, Spike swore, “Bugger!” He put his leather jacket on and looped an arm around Buffy. All three headed to the baggage claim.

~*~*~
Headed east on the road, Giles easily drove on the left hand side of the street, leaving Buffy momentarily carsick. “It’s just not right.” Buffy whined as they drove closer to London proper. Giles gave up on stopping Buffy from whining about the differences in driving laws in England.

The lump of blankets and leather spoke up from the backseat, “Love, it’s the bloody yanks that have it wrong. The rest of the world knows which side you drive on.”

“I don’t think so Bleach Boy, we drive on the right side hence being RIGHT!” Spike knew she was pouting the front seat and it was driving him nuts. If it were up to him, Buffy would be absconded to the backseat, wrapped up in the blankets with him, and they wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“Please, children! ” Giles spoke up as he turned to head north towards the Council headquarters.

“Hey, watch it Watcher, I’m older than your grandfather.” Spike spoke from the back.

“Yeah, and I’m far from being a kid, too!” Buffy pouted again.

“You two are acting like two bleeding brats and I’ve had it. Stop the bickering or I’ll… I’ll…” Giles didn’t know what he was going to threaten, but it was going to be good.

“Oh, I know this one… you’ll turn the ‘bloody’ car around. Am I right?” Buffy jumped in her seat, unused to the smaller car and hit her head. “Owe!” Buffy rubbed her head. “You know, it is very disconcerting sitting in the driver’s seat and not driving.”

“Yes, I know, you’ve told me about ten times already.” Buffy looked over at Giles, he had the look where you knew he wanted to clean his glasses but couldn’t.

“How much longer because I’m going to boot.”

“The boot is what you call the trunk, ducks,” Spike said in his sweetest voice that he could muster while being trapped under fifty pounds of blankets.

“I’m serious, Giles, pull over.” With a look of abject horror, Giles quickly turned the car onto a side street and let Buffy get out.

Five minutes after Buffy got out of the car, Spike didn’t hear anything and he got anxious. “Rupes?”

“Please, don’t call me that.” Giles said in a flat tone, Spike could have sworn he heard the squeak of him cleaning his glasses.

“What’s going on?” Spike started to itch under the covers. He felt, through the claim, that Buffy was in distress, nauseous with a strong headache. He knew he couldn’t do anything for her and it was driving him crazy.

“She’s fine. Hasn’t gotten ill, yet. She was looking quite green for a moment or two. Walking around the road. She’s coming back.”

Spike felt the tiny car dip under her weight as she settled. “All right love?”

“Sorry. We can keep going.” Giles smiled and pulled the car around as they set off to the Council Headquarters.
~*~*~

The building on the old north side of London loomed in front of the trio. Cobblestones lined the drive making the car ride bumpy. “Geeze, Giles. Didn’t they ever hear of pavement?”

Giles sighed and kept steering the car up the drive. Setting the parking brake, Giles reiterated, “This won’t be easy. They will fight us all the way.”

Buffy turned around and faced the bundle of blankets in the backseat. “It’s OK, Spike. The building is blocking the sun.” She turned to Giles, “They can try and fight, but I’m not giving up.”

“Very well, dear. Let’s go.” Giles exited out of the right-hand side of the car while Buffy and Spike took the left-hand side.

Looking up at the columns and pretentious architecture, Spike whistled a low wolf call. Buffy snickered, “Looks like someone is trying to make up for a lack of…” Giles glared at Buffy, silently praying she didn’t finish the sentence the way he thought she would. “POWER.”

Spike evidently agreed with her comment and nodded. “See, that’s why I had the crypt, didn’t need to over compensate.”

Buffy looked over at Spike with his tongue licking his lips and eyebrow wiggling, “Uh huh, honey, sure.” She stepped up the stairs, heading for the large front door.

“Oi, come back here! Slayer!” Giles and Spike had no choice but to follow. Buffy didn’t bother to knock and opened the front door. Inside, Buffy stopped, looking around. The walls were marble, made to intimidate and strike a feeling of awe to those visiting. Looking down from the second floor landing, Quentin Travers sneered at the trio. He knew that she had him beat; he’d played the chess game and lost his queen. Without missing a beat, a much perkier Buffy commented dryly, “No wonder why they don’t pay slayers, they had to buy all this marble.” Although Spike and Buffy were slightly entranced with the adornment to the Watcher’s Council, Giles wasn’t. He used to visit the building a lot.

“Miss Summers!” Quentin admonished.

“Whatever. We’re here for the meeting.” Buffy strode further into the building with Spike closely behind. This place smelled foul and he wasn’t going to leave Buffy’s side if he could help it. Giles followed Buffy and Spike up the stairs. They stood in front of Quentin, waiting for the man to show them the way. Eye to eye, toe to toe, Buffy stared into Quentin’s gray eyes, daring him to weasel his way out of the arrangement. Spike growled low in his throat, reminding the older watcher that he was once again a threat and prepared to follow through. Looking at Giles, Quentin nodded his head and turned around. The trio followed the old man through the marble encrusted corridors. He stopped and opened the door. Buffy looked in and saw a huge library filled with people. “Go on in, Miss Summers. We don’t bite.” Quentin looked at Spike as he spoke. “Unlike others,” Spike shrugged and followed Buffy into the room. “This is our library and most of the watchers are here.” Giles stepped into the room. Quentin closed the door after him. Walking over to a large boardroom table, Quentin announced that the meeting would start. Everyone stopped what he or she was doing and sat down at the table. With a condescending smile, Quentin declared, “This is Buffy Summers, the oldest Vampire Slayer.” A hush fell across the room as all eyes stared at Buffy.

TBC

Chapter 2

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Spike watched Buffy pace through the sparse room. After the meeting in which Quentin had announced her presence and the reason why she was there, Buffy was shown to her room. Then it was revealed that Spike would not be allowed to stay at the council’s headquarters. Without missing a beat, Buffy announced that he was staying in her room and if anyone had a problem, they could quit the council and save them the time and hassle of firing them at a later date. No one protested. Giles was set up in a room across the hallway.

So there she was, like a caged animal, planning and scheming in her head. No words needed to be spoke as the link through the claim was wide open and each knew what the other was thinking. With his sensitive hearing, Spike heard the buzz of bugs around the room, ready to pick up their conversations in hopes to use against them. But, they didn’t need to voice their thoughts and the council did not know about the claim. Her initial wounds were all but healed, leaving a raised white scar on her skin. Without looking closely, one might even miss the little bruise. But, Giles knew. He talked to both before they left for the airport. The fact that a Slayer had never been claimed by a vampire, let alone a master vampire, worried Giles. Words like thrall and dangerous weapon were thrown from his mouth. Buffy understood his concerns; both her and Spike worried about the same things but their faith in their love superceded any doubts. After Giles revealed his worries, he let the subject lie. There were no arguments about how it was wrong, no way to change the past.

Buffy flopped onto the bed next to Spike. The sun was still high in the sky, leaving him restricted to inside activities and therefore leaving Buffy stuck inside, too. Both decided to practice the meditation techniques Giles taught them. The constant flow of feelings and perception between the two were getting to be too much for both to handle. Closing off the link and opening it up bit by bit helped them deal with processing all the information that they shared.
~*~*~
The sunset freed Spike and Buffy to wander around the streets. The council’s headquarters was situated in the outskirts of London and didn’t have many tourist sites for Spike to show Buffy. The neighborhood that surrounded it was mostly business, but held a few small family owned pubs. The damp, cold air breezed past the lovers as they headed to the local pub. Spiked wrapped the duster around himself and Buffy huddled down in her pink wool coat, both hoping to stave off the cold. Stepping down the uneven cobbled steps, Buffy entered another world. The quaint town pub was dark, yet homey. With few residents in the area, the pub was virtually empty. Buffy suspected that some of the council’s workers were in the pub. Spike followed Buffy in, and headed to a table in a dark corner. Sitting her down, he went up to the bar and ordered their drinks. Good English ale was hard to come by in the states and Spike couldn’t wait to taste it again.

The couple mulled over their drinks, talking about inane things. “Brrr. You know, living in Hawaii had really thinned my blood out.”

“You lived in California, pet. It wasn’t that thick to begin with.” Spike chuckled. Buffy was enamored with the dancing light in Spike’s eyes. His baby blues looked more cobalt in the low light of the pub and it set a secret thrill through her.

“It was cold!” Buffy argued, “You know for that one week a year, it’s cold.”

“Yeah, pet. Sunnydale was absolutely frigid.” Their hands intertwined as they enjoy the slight reprieve of getting the council reorganized.

“Hey, are you making fun of me?” Buffy pouted. Her eyes twinkled letting him know she was still joking around with him. Spike groaned when her lip quivered, trying to get noticed.

“Come here, love.” Spike hauled Buffy around the table and sat her in his lap. She snuggled deep into his embrace, wiggling her ass on top of him. “Hey stop that!” Spike’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly, “You’re teasing me, again. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to tease a vamp?”

Buffy moved so she could face him, she stuck her bottom lip out in mock indignation, “You started it, you big bully.”

“Hey there,” Spike lifted his leg up, making her body shift closer to his torso. “None of that.” Buffy smiled at him and nuzzled his neck when she got close enough. “I’m only your big,” he thrust his hips up, grinding his burgeoning erection on her thigh, “bad,” another thrust, “bully.” With another grind, he continued, “And don’t you forget it.” Spike moved his arm that was holding her, making her squeal as her torso was dipped. Smiling, he brought her back up and nuzzled her neck. Spike only thought that this was the life he wanted to lead forever. His slayer on one hand and a cold English Ale in his other.
~*~*~
Night passed slowly for Giles. He stayed in the Watcher library, looking for references of vampire claims and their consequences. Except one researcher that wanted to know if he could help, no one bothered Giles as he looked through the texts. The clock chimed two, alerting Giles that he needed to go to sleep. Research on claims could wait, it had to wait.

Stepping out of the library, he was met with a jovial Spike and Buffy. They just walked home form the pub arguing about who had won at darts. Spike insisted that he won and Buffy insisted that she had. “I know you don’t want to admit it, pet, but face it, I won.”

“You so did not!” Buffy laughed as they rounded the corner, running into Giles. “Omph, Giles! Hey there, look, its Giles.”

Spike smirked and helped the tipsy Buffy stand back up without swaying. “Yeah, pet, you won; you can’t even stand without swaying.” Rolling his eyes he looked apologetically at Giles. “Sorry about that watcher, she’s not used to the English ale, yet.” Giles shifted his feet and brought his handkerchief out to clean his glasses. “Just getting her to bed so she can sleep it off.”

“Uh, yes. But, your room is down the opposite corridor.” Giles motioned between them.

“Spike, you got us lost? See, I’m not the drunk one, you are! ‘Trust me, Slayer, I know where we are going.’ Uh huh, you’re drunk face it!” Buffy whipped around to accuse Spike, but lost her balance and started to fall. With quick reflexes Spike hauled her up and over his shoulder.

“Yeah, pet. I’m the one drunk. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” With a slap to her ass, he motioned for Giles to lead the way to their rooms.

“Hey put me down, YOU! Big! Bully!”

Spike followed Giles down the corridor with Buffy on his shoulder, “I told I’m your big bad bully, love. Do well to remember that.”

Giles turned down another hallway, and whispered harshly, “It’s past two in the morning, do be quiet.”

Stifling a giggle, Buffy enjoyed the ride back to her room.


TBC

Chapter 3

Travers walked into the dining room as Buffy finished her bagel. Giles sat on the other side of the table, sipping on his morning tea. Spike was still sleeping in the room. Quentin sat down at the head of the table and glared at Giles. “Heard you were doing a little research, Rupert. Care to clue me into what you are looking for?”

“Just a little research on the slayer line, Quentin.” Giles looked directly at Quentin and sneered.

“I could have my research team look for you; you don’t have to be up until after two in the morning.”

“Strange, how did you know how late I was there?” The war of knowledge and power had commenced between the two. Buffy sat back and watched the two Watchers duke it out verbally and intellectually.

“My Miss. Summers and her pet vampire making all the racket down the corridors, of course.” With a smug smile, Quentin got up and started to leave the room. Before he walked out, he turned around, “There is a staff meeting in the solarium in three minutes.” Buffy and Giles exchanged looks of confusion and shrugged. Who knew what Quentin was up to?

~*~*~
The meeting lasted three long hours. Buffy was bored senseless. Luckily for Spike, the bond told him of the mind-numbing meeting going on downstairs and he decided to stay in the room. He really didn’t want to leave Buffy alone for any extend time period, but knew that Giles was by her side. Every couple of minutes he would open that bond and tell her a dirty joke, just like he did when they went to the Rain Forest nightclub. Suppressing giggles, Buffy tried to listen to Quentin and his team drone on about research methods and demonology. Giles slid a few dirty looks towards her during these times, pleading with his eyes for her to behave. Walking out of the solarium, Giles pulled Buffy aside. “When are you going to make your move?”

“Soon.” She smiled sweetly at Giles as a bunch of researchers past.

“Seems to me you’re letting him take over.” Giles harshly whispered in the hallway.

“Giles, if he feels threatened he’s going to bolt and we won’t have anything. We need him.” Buffy answered in the same tone.

“We don’t need him, Buffy. Just yank him out of there.”

“Giles, I really would have through you would be more logical about it. We need to evaluate it all and then act.”

Giles stepped back and thought about it. “When did you become the thinker?”

“I’ve always relied on my instincts,” Buffy tried to imitate Scarlet O’Hara’s accent.

“Please don’t do that ever again.” Giles pinched his forehead indicating a start of a headache.

“What? You’re saying my accent isn’t good?”

“Precisely. So, where do you want to start with Travers? We are going to have to start something or we will loose any footing that we have.”

“I know.” Buffy opened the link to Spike and asked him to come down. “Spike’s going to meet us at Quentin’s office. We’re going have a little chat with our favorite head of the Watcher’s Council.” Buffy started to walk away from Giles and head to Quentin’s office. Giles had no option other than to follow.

~*~*~
“Miss Summers, Mr. Giles, Spike. What can I do for you?” Quentin walked out to his secretary and greeted the trio.

“We have a few things to discuss, don’t you think?” Buffy stood up in front of Spike and Giles.

“Miss Summers, this isn’t a good time.”

“Oh, this is the perfect time.” Buffy side stepped Quentin and entered his office. Spike followed, knocking Quentin over a bit. Giles followed demurely. Huffing, Quentin followed the trio inside his inner office.

Perched in his desk chair, Buffy smiled sweetly at Quentin when he finally closed the door. Spike sat on the edge of the mahogany desk, facing Quentin. His black duster hung ender his body, creating an effective drape on the edge of the desk. Giles sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Please, Quentin, sit down. We have lots to discuss.”

“Miss Summers, this really isn’t a good time to have a discussion.”

“Shush, Quentin. This is the perfect time, isn’t it baby?” Buffy touched Spike’s knee. He nodded and she continued. “Wow, what kind of chair is this? It’s comfy.” She bounced lightly up and down in the chair. Swiveling and propping her legs on the desk she looked at Quentin. “So what’s the big evil that’s brewing that makes this a bad time?”

“Really, Miss Summers, put your feet on the floor like a lady!” Incensed, Quentin was red faced.

“Oh, can it, wanker. My lady is a lady when she needs to be. So what’s the big evil?”

“You!” Quentin leveled his gaze on Spike. “William the Bloody, slayer of Slayers. Part of the Scourge of Europe. You are the big evil that’s brewing. Don’t think we don’t know what you’re doing.”

Spike growled at the old man. But Buffy sent a silent warning through the link. “Quentin. I don’t think you understand your position. You are no longer in charge. Any real or perceived threat against Spike, Giles, myself, or anyone I care about will be viewed as an act of war. Trust me, you don’t want to go to war with me. Remember, I took down Glory. And she was a god.”

Quentin’s face visibly paled. “Miss Summers, all due respect, but…”

“There are no buts, Quentin.” Buffy launched her body from the chair and over the desk. Her muscles were taunt as she landed, the expression of her body was clearly anger. “I do believe you agreed to resign from the head of the Council, and that we would come in and evaluate how things are run, because from where I am sitting, it’s been mismanaged. If you would like to actually have a Slayer working in the field, then step down. Every Slayer from now on will answer to me. I will train them, I will teach them, and I will be honest with them. If you want any to work for the council, I suggest you not piss me off anymore.” Buffy stopped to inhale and calm down. “Now, if you think that investigating my mate is in your best interest then go ahead. I can guarantee that you won’t get far.” Buffy’s hazel green eyes brightened with flecks of yellow. Spike growled from behind Buffy, effectively intimidating Quentin to step down from his pedestal.

“Very well, Miss Summers, we will do it your way for now.” Quentin looked at his pocket watch. “Now, if you would excuse me, I am late.”
~*~*~
The bedroom door shut and Buffy found herself thrown to the floor with a very horny Spike on top of her. “Mmm, when your eyes light up like that and you get all dominatrix, it turns me on.” He ground his large erection into her ass, “But you knew that, baby, didn’t you.” Spike’s head dipped and nuzzled the soft skin of her neck. She felt his cool breath on her neck. “Your voice grows deep and demanding, love the way your nose twitches.” Spike’s hands weaved their way underneath her, cupping her breasts through her top. “I can smell the power coming from you, intoxicating.” To prove his point, Spike buried his head in Buffy’s growing hair and inhaled her scent. “God, I love this hair, are you growing it long for me?”

Buffy smiled, his words turned her on, the soft lilt of his voice as he whispered the comments to her like they were precious drove her crazy. She felt her arousal pooling between her legs. His hands squeezed her breasts, eliciting a gasp from her when she didn’t answer his question. “Maybe.”

Spike growled deep in his throat and thrust against her cheeks. “It’s starting to curl at the ends, gods, I love the way it curls around your face as you ride me to a gallop and squeeze me like warm champagne.”

Buffy started to giggle, she couldn’t help it. When Spike questioned her, she answered, “That sounded so like Faith. Something she would say.”

“You said it to me, love. Remember at the Bronze… you were all hot over that bird breaking free… oh, yeah, the body swap, I forgot.”

Buffy twisted underneath him, now looking into his eyes, “She said WHAT to you?”

Spike smirked, noticing the flare of her eyes, his lust renewed when there was a knock on the door, “Bullocks! Who’s there?” Buffy smiled, pushing Spike off of her and headed to the door. Opening the door, she was not surprised to find Giles standing there, ready to start working on the Council’s books with her.


TBC

Chapter 4
“So let me get this straight,” Buffy ventured. “Active Watchers are given a stipend to pay for living expenses.” Spike watched Buffy’s face flame, “Yet Slayers are not paid, not even health insurance?”

“It’s not all that much, Buffy.”

“Giles, just answer the question,” Buffy warned. Her voice was cold and demanding. Anger shot through her body and out her eyes as Giles explained the Watcher’s job specifications and pay.

“Correct.” Giles stared directly into Buffy’s eyes. The years when he hadn’t worked for the Council were not terribly difficult; the Council really didn’t pay all that much in the first place. “Most Slayers are under the care of their guardians, and when health insurance became a common occurrence the Council decided that Slayers did not need it because they had Slayer healing.”

“Not to mention that one dies another is activated, mate.” Spike smirked. Giles nodded slightly, validating Spike’s view. Giles didn’t want to impress that to Buffy, though. The Council, specifically Quentin Travers, did see the Slayers as expendable.

“In the 1970s they did a survey, the conclusion was that it was more expensive to keep the current Slayer alive than to train the next one.” Spike’s eyes flare golden, all too aware how close Buffy had been part of the statistic, that she was part of that statistic twice. Giles tried not to make eye contact with Buffy; he was ashamed that he was part of the research team that came up with that recommendation. Being a young, inexperienced watcher his main purpose in the Council was to research. Idealistic and worried about the financial base of the Council, young Rupert Giles didn’t take in consideration that Slayers were real people with real lives. The recommendation purported was based strictly on financial dealing, not human morals. Since he had met Buffy, since he had come to love her like his own, he had carried that guilt around with him. The “gifts” he gave Buffy after Joyce died had been fueled by it, but Giles had never indicated to Buffy that he felt guilty for being part of the reason she was in financial straits.

“That doesn’t account for the lack of pay, Giles. You know what I went through when my mom passed away. Dawn, the house, everything!” Buffy noticed the missing eye contact, but didn’t want to read into it too much. Giles had helped her out, paying for repairs to the house and helping her live on a budget.

Giles sighed and took his glasses off. He methodically wiped them down with his handkerchief, still avoiding Buffy’s stare. Before he put them back on he looked at her and said quietly, “Most Slayers don’t live long enough to support a family.”

The implications of the statement weighted heavily in the air. Most slayers died long before their eighteenth birthday. Died during their first year as a Slayer. The war beat the humanity out of those who did survive, isolating the girl from family and friends. The mission outweighed anything else. But that’s not how Buffy survived. The friends and family that surrounded her kept her alive. Buffy sat looking at Giles very carefully. Just as quiet and calmly as Giles spoke, she returned with, “Well, maybe if they paid for health insurance and living expenses they would.”

“Probably, Buffy.” Giles looked over at Spike, he was sitting across the library table from Buffy. His duster draped over his arms and down to the floor. Spike’s pale skin appeared even paler after the discussion of a Slayer’s lifespan. Not only was he responsible for two of the shortened lives, he was now battling for a third. His protective demeanor towards Buffy was overwhelming at times. The bond between the two, the claim he placed on her, went further beyond anything Giles had ever read about. Sharing thoughts and feelings willingly with each other was amazing. The bond scared Giles to his core. If Spike would ever go back to killing people for fun, or even food, it would destroy Buffy. It would rip out the rest of her heart, leaving only a shell, and Giles was afraid she would follow Spike down the road. Trying to break out of his thoughts, Giles shook his head. He could not let Buffy know he felt this way, that he thought she wasn’t strong enough to resist Spike’s pull if he chose to go back.

“So we have to fix that.” Buffy stated, effectively interrupting Giles’ thoughts. He looked over at Buffy, surprised at how strong her voice was. “What? It’s not fair that I’m the only Slayer to make it past 24 and head to my 30s.” Buffy gasped and looked at Spike, sticking out her tongue. “Stop it, horn devil.”

Giles rolled his eyes, not wanting to know what Spike was up to. Spike arched his eyebrow and wiggled his tongue between his thick lips towards Buffy. Exasperated, he sighed, “Yes, please stop it. We have work to do.”

“Don’t know what kind of work you think you have, sounds like my lady just said insure the newbies, pay them a living wage, and keep them alive longer. Doesn’t seem so hard.” Spike flicked his boots over the arms of the chair.

“Well, yes, as you stated so eloquently, but we need to do it in the confines of the Council’s budget.”

“Sod the budget, Watcher. Tell the rat bastard Travers to do it if he wants to keep his job. Or, better yet,” Spike smirked, “let me do it.”

“I think it would be better coming from me, Slayer of Slayers.” Giles looked pointedly at Spike, “Kind of strange that the killer of two Slayers would order the measures to keep Slayers alive longer. Don’t think it would be adhered to if it came from you”

“Yeah, well,” Spike propped his feet up on the table, “Got myself a new mission, mate.” Giles stared at Spike’s dirty boots next to an irreplaceable volume of demonology.

Buffy giggled, Spike could be so silly sometimes, “Put your feet down, Spike. You’re getting all the dusty books more dusty and Giles’ is about to have a heart attack.” Spike pouted, but did as Buffy requested. Buffy stood up and started out the door as she said, “So, I’m not a numbers girl, you can do the budget thingy, right?” Spike followed quickly, anxious to continue what they started earlier.

They exited without looking back; if they did they would have seen the gleam of Ripper in Giles’ eyes. “Sure, Buffy. No numbers involved with running a night club.” Giles sighed and sat down to work on the budget.

~*~*~
Spike listened to Buffy’s breathing calm down. Her heartbeat, still erratic and fast, pounded against his chest. These were the moments where he felt almost alive, her heart beating against his still one, transferring the beats to him. His body hummed with exertion and pleasure. He felt her sigh on top of him, legs still pressed tightly against his thighs, locking their bodies together. Spike felt her slick, hot body begin to cool so he threw the comforter over her. Nuzzling her nose against Spike’s chest, she sighed in contentment again. “Sleep, kitten.”

“Mmmm, Spike. I love you.” Buffy whispered before sleep claimed her. Lying underneath Buffy, being intimate with her, was heaven for Spike. Her strength and passion flowed through their bond, leaving her utterly vulnerable to him, trusting him to touch the deepest recesses of her mind. Trusted him with the secrets she didn’t even know she contained. Spike inhaled their combined scents, pure ecstasy, more potent than any drug. Slowly, he drifted off to meet Buffy in his dreams.

~*~*~

Giles was busy researching the Council’s budget. In the protocol paperwork, he revealed that Watchers were supposed to take care of their Slayer charges with the meager allowances the Council gave them. Virtual guardians of the protector of the world expected to support a teenage girl on a wage barely livable for one. Interesting, Giles though as he cleaned his glasses, he had never heard of that protocol. When he was sent to Sunnydale, he was instructed not to remove Buffy from her family by the decree of Quentin Travers, head of the Watcher’s Council. Giles didn’t think much of the decree; once meeting Buffy he realized that he wouldn’t want to take in a spoiled brat like that. Her mother seemed to be able to handle most of her human needs, leaving Giles to take care of the Slayer duties. Giles continued to read the different protocols.
~*~*~

“The termination of the Slayer brings about the birth of a new Chosen One from the vast pool of Potentials. Finding the most viable potential vessel, the Slayer uses the magicks infused within the spirit.”

“Geeze Giles, get anymore impersonal? Termination of the Slayer? Potential vessel?” Buffy interrupted Giles’s reading of the book. Yellowed pages, almost brown with age, crinkled under the weight of Giles’ breaths. When she received a glare from the older Watcher, she shrugged, “Go on.”

“The alignment of Mars and Jupiter over the moon creates the temporal disturbance throughout the universe, leaving a trail to the best-fit vessel. Aged young, no more than seventeen earth years, the potential vessel is assessed emotionally. This brings the menstrual cycle early, creating the infrastructure of demonic tracking using hormonal imbalances within the new body. High emotions facilitate the process without any dire repercussions.”

“So it’s the Slayer’s fault that I had my period for two weeks in a row? Oh, I’m so going to kick her primitive ass next time I meet her.” Spike smirked over at Buffy. He sat, once again, opposite from her, watching her take in the new information about Slayers. Giles had tracked them down, sparing in the gym, when he found the history of the Slayer in the ancient book translated from a North African ancient language referred to as Berber. The symbols, primitive hieroglyphics, lines and circles dotting the cloth they used. Buffy, excited that she finally was going to learn of her history, the Slayer’s history, quickly followed Giles into the library once again.

Giles continued as if Buffy hadn’t uttered a word.

“The power of the Slayer transfers over to the vessel of the Potential, infusing the new Chosen One with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires. Balancing the scales once more, the new Slayer is assigned to a trainer to teach the art of combat.”

“Ah ha! The Watchers come in. You’re supposed to be a trainer.” Buffy rolled her eyes when Giles looked at her, his eyes gray as steel, silencing her once more.

“The Slayer, hardened by the daily battles, strengthens as the vessel ages, creating a virtually unstoppable force against the spread of demonic evil, potentially eradicating the demonic presence from this reality.”

Giles stopped reading and looked up, finished with the passage.

“What that’s it? That’s the whole ‘this is how a Slayer is made?’ That was lame.” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair, disappointed that the book didn’t hold more information.

“That’s all I have translated so far. It does shed some light on how a one is chosen.”

“Ha! Shed some light! The moon, the stars, the great beyond. Blah, blah, blah.”

“Buffy…” Giles chided.

“I’m sorry Giles, it’s not fair, I know. But did you hear what you were saying?” Giles stood, nodding, while Buffy talked. “It’s a virtual crap shoot on who is chosen to be the next Slayer. Moon alignment and hormones? That seems awfully flimsy.”

“I know, but that’s what is in the book. Maybe I can translate more and get a better idea.”

“I think we need to ask Quentin why this book was never translated in the first place. I never understood the Slayer, why I was chosen, etcetera. Kendra grew up knowing she had the potential to have this destiny. I never had that. One minute I am stilling on the steps of school, waiting for a boy and the next thing I’m staking a guy in the cemetery. No handbook, no explanation, just a stake and the speech about being chosen.” Buffy was so angry, she was almost shaking. Spike could feel the frustration pouting out of her. “It would have been nice to know about this. Remember right before the battle with Glory… I thought I was loosing my ability to love, to care. I was. That was the Slayer doing it to me. Strengthening herself for the battle, but I didn’t know that.” Taking a calming breath, she continued. “And, you know… the virtual unstoppable force… you know what I mean… be nice to know that a couple years ago.” Spike looked confused and sent her a silent question, only to have it returned unanswered. The spies and bugs in the building were listening, leaving Buffy biting her tongue before it slipped out. “Why was the Council hiding this?”

“I don’t know,” was Giles only answer. The fact that Buffy turned into the virtual unstoppable force weighed heavily on Giles. Her instincts steadily grew within the past couple years, leaving her skills and strength unmatchable, even in demonic terms.
~*~*~

They had to get out of the oppressive building, fleeing from the prison that was created for them. Ears and eyes, on the look out for anything that could be used against them, pried deeply into their subconscious. New revelations of Buffy’s increased abilities. Her internal demonic radar’s power increase amazed Spike. She never let on about her strength or the fact she could sense him all those times he would be at her hotel after their fight. They strolled along the edge of the closest cemetery, quietly discussing the new information. Their thought and emotions were broken by the sound of a struggle behind a brownstone. Swiftly running into action, Spike and Buffy rounded the corner to see two humans, a man and woman, surrounded by seven large, brown demons. Spike moved first, throwing the closest brown demon away from the main group. The muscular arms reached out for Spike, barely missing him. Spike looked around, spying a jagged piece of metal. He picked up the piece, hitting the blob like head, breaking a few bones in its structure. The demon, not stopped by having his skull broken, charged Spike, pushing him into the brick wall. Regaining his footing, Spike threw a punch towards the torso, hitting the slimy, squishy, brown flesh. Still holding the piece of metal, he lifted it up to impale the demon.

Standing over the dead demon’s body, Spike wiped his hands off and turned around, ready to help Buffy only to find the other demons lying on the ground, unmoving. Buffy was staring at the two people they just saved. The woman, athletic and tall, stood up. Her face littered with scars and wounds, leaving a once beautiful woman not as attractive as she was remembered. The large man, hidden in the shadows from Spike, stepped out. “Riley?”

Chapter 5

Riley stepped forward, closer to Buffy. Time had not been kind to the soldier. Slices of scar tissue littered his face and arms. Lumbering over six feet tall, the once ‘normal’ boyfriend now resembled car accident victim. His once shiny, healthy brown locks of hair were peppered with wiry, gray strands. Dull and limp, it hung from his head like a helmet. His eyes reflected the light dully, no longer sparkling with life. His skin, pasty and ashen hung off his bones with a bit too much padding underneath. The health conscious soldier must have disappeared through the years, leaving the body to survive on its own. Barely standing on his own, his limp forward proved his self hurt. It was obvious to both Spike and Buffy that the soldier had many injuries that had not healed properly, leaving him disfigured. Gone was the innocence of the boy and in its place was the tough, hard knock reality of the universe. Gone was one Riley Finn, soldier extraordinaire.

The woman standing by his side, supporting his hefty weight didn’t look much better. Littered with just as many scars as her husband and partner, Riley. Her long, dark hair was now cropped close to her head and lighter, probably out of necessity. Her hands, peppered with hard life wrapped around Riley, holding him closer. Her gray eyes reflected hate towards Buffy. Samantha Finn, strict human version of Buffy, fought beside her husband for the greater good, the human species. Her military training had toughed her feminine body and attracted the heart broken soldier all those years ago. Her taste for adventure seduced Riley quickly, causing him to fall head over heels for the soldier girl. Married on the run in South America, the two found desperate peace in each other’s arms.

Standing back, Buffy studied the couple they saved. Feeling guilty that they lived such a hard life while she lived in the lap of luxury, she couldn’t form words. Fighting evil was her mission, her destiny, her calling, but it was their choice, their mission, their life. Choosing the good over evil during times when the odds seemed insurmountable was what they did and they paid for their choice in more than one way. Spike stood closer to Buffy, waiting for the anvil to drop. The hatred and the accusations to start flying from Riley, the rejection from Buffy, but it didn’t come. The soldier straightened, standing on his own and stepped forward. “Buffy, good to see you.”

Buffy smiled coyly, feeling the guilt once again. “Hi,” her voice wavered. “What are you doing here?”

Riley smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth. “Fighting the fight, you know?” Riley raised his arm, indicating Sam to step forward. “You remember Sam.”

Buffy nodded and smiled at Sam, not know what to say. The woman before her didn’t resemble the woman that Buffy met before. Her smile no longer touched her lips, leaving a scowl on Sam’s mouth. “Yeah.” The two couples fell silent, not knowing what to say. Spike stepped closer to Buffy, wanting to mark his territory. He wanted to tease Riley that he had the girl, but he didn’t have it in him. Somehow pointing out the obvious, kicking him while he was down, just didn’t seem like fun. “So, England, huh?”

“Yeah, England.” Riley looked aver at Spike. “See you’re still hanging about. Lurking in the shadows still.”

Spike growled, but Buffy stepped forward, resting her hand on Spike’s arm. “Actually, we are together. Spike found me a while ago and we decided to try and give it another go.”

“Ah, I see. So how’s that going?”

“Wonderful, Riley. I am really happy. I don’t know what took me so long.” Buffy said quietly, looking at Spike the whole time. Giving him, his demon and human selves, the reassurance that he needed.

“That’s good.” Sam looked around, not comfortable with her husband talking to his ex-girlfriend. Not that she ever liked Buffy much for that, but she’s also the Slayer and still beautiful. Her hair looked healthy and growing long. The darker shade of blonde shimmered under the moon light, giving her an unearthly glow.

“So what have you two been doing these past couple years?” Spike put his arm around Buffy waist, resting comfortably. Sam imitated the pose, leaving nothing to the imagination on her intentions. Riley was hers and she wasn’t going to give him up. Spike felt the same way about Buffy.

“Traveling. We’re mercenaries and go where we are needed.” Riley looked around, on alert for any demon activity. “You?”

“Working. I write for a travel journal. I now live in Hawaii.” A genuine smile erupted from Buffy’s face. Even though she felt guilty that she was living a normal life, she couldn’t help but be happy about it. “We’re here visiting the Watcher’s Council.

“I see. Got quiet a tan on you. How about you, Spike? Stalking the beaches, going to get a suntan anytime soon?”

Spike growled, leaving Buffy’s side. Before anyone knew it, Riley’s injured leg gave way and he fell to the hard ground with Spike standing above him. “Look, ma, no chip! Shut up, pillock!” Spike backed away towards Buffy, who was barely stifling her laughter. Spike’s swagger increased as he neared her, letting his black duster wave in the dark night.

Sam helped Riley stand up again, careful of the new abrasions on his skin. “No chip? Are you crazy? Buffy, what is going on?” Riley spat angrily.

“Don’t Riley,” Buffy warned, letting her arms wrap around her vampire. “I don’t need any lectures, or warnings. I’m not under any thrall. Yes, those are bite marks that you see on my neck, but no, I am not a vampire. I am alive. Spike and I are mated. We are in love and nothing, not even the narrowest point of view, will change that.”

“Whatever, Buffy. Just don’t turn your back on him.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. If Riley only knew what they had been through. Angel’s torture, Xander, the Council. Turning her back was the last thing Buffy needed to worry about. “Noted, Riley. So, really, what are you doing here?”

“Told you, fighting the fight. Got a call about two weeks ago about some trouble brewing over here.”

Not believing a word that Riley was saying for the whole truth, Buffy nodded. Buffy and Spike started their own inner dialog. “Trouble brewing here? Only a few feet from the great Council of Wankers?”

“Spike, behave! I know, he isn’t telling the truth.” Buffy leaned into Spike; reveling in the comfort he gave her.

“Look at the bird, maybe Captain Cardboard doesn’t know why they are here.” Spike wrapped his arm tighter around Buffy’s waist. Something wasn’t right about Riley and Sam popping up.

“Could be. He never was one to think through things. Reminds me of some blond vampire I know.”

“Don’t! Ever! Compare! Me! To! Him!” Anger rolled through her, leaving her feeling cold. Spike moved away slightly, leaving inches of air space between the two.

“Sorry, didn’t mean it.” Buffy smiled at Riley, trying to keep up with what Riley was saying about Egypt and spider demons released from a tomb. “Spike?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I was just kidding.” Spike moved closer to Buffy, his arm inched up to her waist again. All was forgiven.

“Riley, Sam. We’re staying at the Council’s headquarters. It’s just around the corner. Want to come and maybe sit down with some coffee and talk?” Buffy offered. Riley looked at Sam and agreed.

~*~*~
The kitchen had closed a few hours ago, leaving Buffy to riffle through the cupboards looking for the coffee and filters. Only finding tea, Buffy resigned herself to make tea. “Guess the Brits aren’t up on the coffee.” She said while letting the teakettle warm.

“No problem, Buff. Come sit down. Tell us about your travel magazine.” Riley and Sam sat on one end of the kitchen island. Spike stood in a corner of the kitchen where the cupboards met, leaning on hip against the counter. Buffy stepped forward, leaning against the island facing Riley and Sam. The bright fluorescent lights did nothing to help their complexion. Life really didn’t treat them well. Riley’s skin was patchy with color, almost as if burned with acid.

“Well, I started out doing it on the side, picking up a few bucks as I traveled around the states. I got pretty good and was offered a job in Upper New York. Moved about a year later to Colorado and finally settled in Hawaii. My article isn’t made up of tourist traps, but from the local prospective. I own a hotel and night club in Hawaii.”

“Wow, so how’s the slaying?” Riley looked over Buffy’s perfect skin. Almost perfect, Spike’s claim still marred her neck.

“Retired for a while. Came out a few weeks back to train a new one. Faith died. I don’t know if you remember her, but she’s…”

“Yeah, a guy can’t forget that, trust me.”

Buffy blushed and looked down at her hands. Her nails were long and needed a manicure, the polish chipping at the ends. Looking over at Sam’s fingers, she noted that her right ring finger was cut off half way. Her skin was dirty and puckered, leaving scar tissue to surround her fingers. None existent nails grew out of the dirty stumps she had as nailbeds. Buffy’s guilt returned. “Yeah, well. When she died, another was called and so on. I’ve been in the training mode.”

“Ah, so how’s retired life?”

“Seems to be looking up.” Buffy spared a glance at Spike. Appearing bored with the conversation, Spike picked at his black nail polish, also noticing Sam’s injured hand.

Sitting around the kitchen seemed so strange for them all. The conversation strained and stayed away from certain subjects including the undead. “Want a short tour of this fine establishment? Can’t show you the upstairs, but the downstairs is pretty pop and circumstance.”

Riley and Sam followed Buffy, leaving Spike to trail behind. Riley listened intently to what Buffy was saying. She repeated the same nonsense descriptions of the artwork on the walls and different furniture that one of the young Watchers bestowed on them. Sam looked around, studying everything, every nook and cranny. Her eyes never ceased to travel along the walls, the corridors, and the floor. Spike felt like she was casing the joint, memorizing its layout. “Where are all the Watchers?” Sam asked in the foyer. “Shouldn’t they be milling around?”

“Um, probably upstairs or already left.” Buffy said distractedly. Sam looked up the stairs, hoping to catch a glimpse of a Watcher. She hesitated and then started to move toward the staircase.

Spike stepped forward and grabbed her arm, “Afraid you can’t go up there, pet.”

“Let go of me, you demon!” Sam pulled her arms away, twisting her body, almost loosing balance on the bottom stair.

Buffy stopped Riley from going after Spike while his back was turned, watching Sam disengage herself. “I believe the Slayer told you not to go up there.”

“What? It’s not like she’s in charge.” Sam snorted, happy with herself.

A large booming voice interrupted the four, “Actually, Miss Summers is indeed in charge here.” Buffy looked up to see the plump, yet surprisingly supportive, Quentin Travers on the stair landing. Quentin walked slowly down the stair with his chest puffed out. He stopped a few stairs about Sam. “Mr. And Mrs. Finn, I heard you were in town.”

“Sir.” Riley saluted, his military training shining through.

“The infamous married mercenaries. You aren’t very quiet when you stroll into a town, are you?”

Sam stepped of the staircase, surprised to be faced with the head of the Watcher’s Council. “Mr. Travers. I have a matter I need to discuss with you.”

Riley looked shocked, not knowing Sam knew Quentin Travers by face or name. “Sam?”

“Hush, Finn. Prime directive from the Source.” Sam glanced at Riley.

“Any business you would like to discuss should be with Miss Summers here, she is now officially Head of the Council.” Both Spike and Buffy looked strangely at Quentin, his change of attitude surprised them greatly.

“No, I believe this concerns you.” Sam’s voice rose in volume, trying to assert herself in the eyes of Quentin.

“No, I believe Miss Summers would like to know exactly why you are here in England. More specifically near the Council of Watchers.” Buffy looked questionably towards Quentin and then towards Riley. Riley looked as surprised as Buffy and Spike felt. “I think she would like to know the apparent disbandment of the covert United States government mission subtitled the Initiative is not so much disbanded anymore. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Finn?” Quentin stepped down to the main floor. “The nefarious dealings of your troops in the Sudan and Sri Lanka hasn’t bypassed the Council. We are aware that your cause has gained support from the Middle East and the guerillas of Central America. And, Mr. And Mrs. Finn, I would like to go on record of telling you to back off. Human wars maybe your prerogative, but the demon war is mine. Stand down.”

“Mr. Travers, you don’t understand. We are on the same side.” Sam stepped closer to Quentin, trying to get her point across.

“No, Mrs. Finn, I don’t believe you heard me. Stand down! Go back to your army in Nicaragua and live on the human side of this reality. Forget the demons and the ethereal beings because it is not your war to fight. Leave now and never come back.”

Riley, clearly angry and disoriented, dragged his wife out the front door and into the night. Shocked still, Buffy and Spike listened to the explanation Quentin bestowed on them. The Initiative was once again active.

Chapter 6

Quentin sat behind his desk in the dark. In front of him sat a thick file of information on the covert multi-governmental operation nicknamed the Initiative. The behavioral modification experiments they had done in the past did not please him. Not because demons like Spike who happened to escape from their clutches did complete their behavioral transformation, but because the operation, the government, and the scientists had no right to meddle into that world. They had no clue into what they were messing with, the power of the balance between demon and mortal. The covenant that the Watchers agreed to should be held in the highest regard. The ability to protect the mortals on this plane should be revered, but it wasn’t. These humans, as technological advanced, as they were, still held no candle to the Watchers Council’s abilities.

The precarious balance between demons and mortals were supervised by a higher power. The prophecies and loopholes written into the works of their fate were carefully orchestrated millenniums ago and should not be meddled with by mere mortals; civilians that had no right, no insight into the bigger picture, no education and training to decipher the deeper meaning behind the words. The mystical pact between the upper and lower worlds to share the paradise known as the Earth was forged years ago, leaving a plane of existence that was balanced with good and evil, light and darkness, mortal and immortal. No one mortal or immortal could maintain the balance of Earth, creating the triumvirate commonly called the Powers-That-Be.

Quentin threw the file across the room, scattering papers and photographs on the floor. Vibes of disgust and frustration flew off the head Watcher in waves. You didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know that one Quentin Travers was angry. The support staff, secretaries and pages, didn’t dare go into the inner sanctum of his.

‘The Initiative,’ Quentin thought bitterly. ‘Armed and trained militia with the intents and purposes to eradicate the demon population from this realm. Damn them! Who did they think they are?’ Quentin grabbed a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer of his desk. Pouring a glass of the stiff liquid, Quentin sat back and thought about the situation around him. The Slayer, her Vampire, and her Watcher trying to make changes they wanted and the new threat of the Initiative. Everything bottled up within him shook violently. Today was not a good day.

~*~*~
Night fell on England once again. The cold wind blew across the nation, closing windows and doors as it swept through the fields. Spike watched the greens in the gardens dance around in the bitter wind. Blowing and cursing around the evergreens the wind tried its best to kill the remaining life on the earth. Spike exhaled smoke and watched the blue/gray pollution dissipate in the atmosphere. The white stick with a glowing tip he held in his hand gave comfort to the vampire. Bringing it to his mouth, he took a puff, inhaling the plumes of thick smoke into his dead lungs, letting the death seep into his body as if he wasn’t dead enough. Slouching his shoulders forward, he nestled himself deeper into his leather duster, trying to stay a bit warmer than the air outside.

Buffy stepped out on the veranda behind Spike, watching him puff away on his cancer stick. Not that Spike could get cancer, what with no living cells, but a cancer stick to everyone around him. Pulling her wool coat closer to her body, she stepped out from the under hang towards the love of her life. His white hair sparkled in the moonlight, shining silver in the deep dark night. She coughed a bit, alerting her presence, ‘Knew you were there, love.’ His voice popped in her head.

Smiling, she walked to him, wrapper her arms around his middle. Spike switched the hand that held the cigarette and wrapped his free hands around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him. Finding his jacket was open, she insinuated herself into him, telling herself that they were sharing body heat. ‘Yeah, so, I had to cough.’ Spike snorted out loud, breaking the silence. ‘Like, I’d warn you, fang face.’

‘Hey, what’s with the old names, pet?’ Spike looked down at her, her eyes shining with love and trust.

‘Don’t know, just popped in my head. What are you doing?’ Buffy snuggled closer, grimacing as Spike continued to smoke.

‘Saluting the Queen’s mum, what does it look like? Smoking a sodding cigarette, is that all right with you?’ Buffy felt Spike’s anger, but didn’t understand it.

She stepped away and bundled herself up in her coat, ‘Geeze, chill there. I was just asking a question; don’t have to get shirty with me.’

‘Shirty?’ Spike’s eyebrow rose. ‘Do you even know what that means?’

‘What is your problem Spike?’ Buffy looked over at him, something or someone set him off and it wasn’t her.

‘Nothing, just go inside, love.’

‘No, something is wrong. Did I do something?”

‘Go inside, Buffy.’ Spike reiterated.

‘Spike, please, baby tell me. I’ll fix it.’

“Go inside Slayer.” This time Spike didn’t use the bond, he spoke out loud. The message was clear and she obeyed.

With one final glance at him, she headed inside. Before she shut the door she turned around, “Don’t shut me out, Spike.”
~*~*~
Spike stayed outside in the garden a bit, something was off with Captain Cardboard and his little wife’s visit. Why did Quentin stick up for Buffy? Announcing she was in charge? That was strange. Something was off, something smelled off. This house, mansion, the people in it. The stench permeated the marbled wall, leaving traces of something. Spike reached out in the bond, trying to find Buffy. She was sitting in the library, talking to Giles. She was safe, but something told Spike that she wasn’t as safe as they thought.

Spike threw his last fag away, littering the veranda littered with the burned cigarette butts and headed inside. Ignoring the Watchers and Watchers-in-training, Spike headed straight for the library. He stopped and took a breath, inhaling her scent. He heard her melodic laugh through the door and walls. Stepping forward, he pushed through the heavy wooden door.

Buffy looked up as Spike entered, only to look back down at the book she was reading. Spike sighed, knowing she was hurt and angry with him. He felt it, even if she refused to talk to him over the link. In fact, she tried shutting down the link a couple times as he headed up here. Spike slumped down in the chair next to her. ‘Sorry, love.’ Spike looked at Giles, his nose in one of the ancient books that was supposed to contain the secrets of the Slayer line. Buffy didn’t answer his apology, but she didn’t try to shut him out. ‘I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.’

He saw Buffy’s lips twitch, trying to repress a smile. Her anger ebbed away as he talked. ‘Taken what out on me?’

‘Is nothing, love. Don’t worry about it.’ Spike grabbed a text in front of him, staring at the Latin words, Spike tried to help.

‘That makes me worried even more.’ Spike looked over at Buffy, her lower lip jutted out in a pout.

‘Don’t do that! You know what that does to me.’ Spike smirked over at Buffy. Their eyes met and both knew it was pointless to stay mad at the other.

‘Spike, what is it. Don’t shut me out. I know you are worried about something. I can FEEL it.’

‘Something just bloody isn’t right here, Slayer. First, Quentin treats you like a second, wait third class citizen and then he’s spouting off about how you are in charge. Doesn’t make a bit of sodding sense to me. And Captain Cardboard? Come on! His damn bird starting the Initiative without his knowledge? Sounds fishy at best. I know he isn’t the brightest crayon in the crayon box, but you can’t be that oblivious.’

‘Spike, he seriously was shocked as we were.’

‘I know, but it doesn’t make sense.’ Both stopped pretending that they were reading and looked directly at each other, having a silent discussion. Giles stopped his pacing and reading to stare at them. Spike’s eyes rippled amber every now and then while Buffy’s rippled from yellowish brown to green. He knew they were talking, probably something important if they weren’t using their voices. Giles noticed that when he was around Buffy made a conscious effort to not talk through the bond. ‘How can he not know that she’s been heading a revamped version of the Initiative while good ole’ boy Travers does?’

‘I didn’t know about you, Doctor.’

‘Oh, sodding hell! I wasn’t the Doctor. I was holding those eggs for someone. I told you.’

‘Uh huh, honey, pull my other leg.’ Buffy crossed her legs, jiggling one in front of him.

“I was not the DOCTOR!” Spike roared. Everyone in the library turned and looked at him.

“Spike, come on, admit it was one you your hair brained schemes.”

“It wasn’t a scheme, those eggs weren’t even Suvolte. They were… oh sod it, it’s not like you’ll believe me.” Spike stood up and headed out the door, his duster blowing behind him.

“He sure likes to make his entrances and exits, doesn’t he?” Giles mused.

“That he does.” Buffy answered, still looking at the door. “Guess I better go after him.” She got up to follow him, leaving Giles alone, once again, to continue the search of the Slayer secrets.

Chapter 7

The rain of the day made a muddy trek to the cemetery. Buffy felt Spike’s aggression and the thirst for violence. His pent up energy plus the pressures of being at the Watcher’s Headquarters was weighing heavily on the vampire. She trudged through two cemeteries, following his destructive path. She found the remains of four fledglings rising and their subsequent demise. Buffy trudged through another puddle, soaking her jeans and boots with brown goop. Her boots, bought in a specialty shop in Hawaii that cost and arm and a leg were practically ruined now. Sneering, Buffy shook off the moisture and headed towards Spike. He sat on a grave marker, looking at a new grave. He must think there is a fledgling trying to rise. She approached, but left a lot of space between them. She watched him turn to his demon visage right as the fledgling started to move the upper earth. Mud and sod moved and bucked up as the new vampire started to rise. Impatient as ever, Spike hopped off of the grave marker and grabbed the hair of the fledgling, dragging its body out of the mud. Without preamble, Spike dusted the fledgling easily clearly not relieving any of his tension. His eyes riveted towards Buffy’s space. ‘Go home, Buffy, before you catch your death of a cold.’ He turned around and walked away, intent on finding a proper fight, even if he had to start it himself.

Buffy followed behind, refusing to go home until she knew he was fine. His duster floated behind him as he stalked on to the next fledgling. “What is wrong with you?” Buffy was so frustrated she couldn’t even use the bond; she had to talk out loud. His demeanor and words screamed that something was wrong, that he was hurting, but she couldn’t figure out why. She realized that it was more than accusing him of being the Doctor. And she knew he wasn’t the Doctor. The demons that she destroyed in his lower living area were not the same species of demon as the Sulvolte. Insect-like legs and bodies scurrying around his lower crypt did not resemble the Sulvolte Demon she killed with Riley. She should have listened to Spike in the first place.

Spike stopped and looked up into the stars. She saw warm puff of air coming from his mouth. The unnecessary breathing proved that he was frustrated and angry. Nothing she didn’t already know. His eyes twitched, a nervous habit he developed over the years. ‘Spike?’ He kept walking. Buffy launched into a light jog to catch up to him. ‘Spike, stop!’ He turned around and glared at her. They hurt in his eyes bored into her soul, ‘I’m sorry, honey. You aren’t the Doctor. I’m sorry for thinking that you were. I know you aren’t, you never were. I’m sorry.’

Spike could see she was sincere in her words. His anger and hurt melted away. He couldn’t really blame her for thinking the worst. His intentions, although only to benefit her, were nefarious at best. He was holding the eggs for money and they were demons, but they weren’t Suvolte. Spike knew of the Doctor, he knew where to find the Doctor that night, but his lust for Buffy outweighed his better judgment. If he only helped her that night instead of shagging her brains out, she would never have broken up with him. Kicking the muddy ground Spike accidentally pelted Buffy’s pants with more brown water and mud. He heard her gasp before he realized what he had done. She looked at him, her mouth set in a firm line and hands on her hips. Spike had sense enough to look sheepish. ‘Sorry, love.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ve apologized and now I am going back to the house. You can stay out here for all I care.’ He watched Buffy turn around and walk away from him. Sighing, he followed closely behind her. ‘Spike, stop following me. It’s obvious you are mad at me and won’t take my apology.’

Spike quickened his stride, easily catching up to her. ‘Love, I’m sorry. I… just… something just isn’t right around here. You know?’ Buffy stopped and looked at him. They were now out of the cemetery, near the main road. ‘It’s like… I don’t know.’ Spike looked down the road. ‘I was not the Doctor.’

‘I know.’ Buffy stepped closer, wanting to hold him. His blue eyes were still filled with unshed tears and hurt. She wanted to wipe away all the pain she had caused him. All the emotional battery and physical abuse he took to be with her. She wanted to make it better for him.

‘But, to be honest, love. I knew who was.’ Buffy’s eyes widened and she gasped. He was hiding that fact. She narrowed her eyes, trying to stay calm. ‘I didn’t know what he was up to, I swear. I thought we had time to… find him, later. I’m sorry.’ Spike looked down at the ground. He shuffled his feet as he waited for Buffy to digest the information and give him his walking papers. Spike’s conscious weighed heavily on his soul. If he had helped her, if he had told her, if he did a lot of thing differently, they wouldn’t have missed the past six years. Life was preciously short, Spike knew, and a Slayer’s life was even shorter. If he was honest way back then, he would have had six more years with her than without her.

Buffy felt his guilt. The pain of mistakes in the past weighed heavily between them. Both wanted to change the past, but knew they couldn’t. ‘Is that why you got mad at me? Because you were feeling guilty?’ Buffy touched Spike’s upper arm. Spike flinched a little from the sudden contact, but didn’t push her away.

He looked up sharply; she wasn’t going to reject him. ‘A bit.’ Spike stepped forward, letting his hands find her waist. ‘I just… it wasn’t me. You know. If it was, I wouldn’t mind fessing up.’ Buffy hands moved up Spike’s leather clad arms to rest on his shoulders.

‘I know.’ Buffy let a small smile touch her lips. She rested her cheek against his chest, enjoying his scent and safe embrace. The moonlight shone down on the couple, enveloping them in its mysterious glow.

‘If I took you over to Willy’s when you first came to me, it would have been avoided. Or if I told you I was babysitting those eggs, but I didn’t.’

‘Wait… Willy was the Doctor?’ Buffy stepped away with an amazed look on her face.

‘Technically there isn’t one Doctor, per say. The Doctor is made up of five or so bootleggers around the world. But, in that instance, yes, Willy was trafficking the eggs.’

‘Well that little weasel!’ Buffy let a full smile touch her lips. ‘Forgive me?’

‘As you wish, my love.’ Spike brought Buffy closer to him, crushing their lips together. His tongue dueled with hers, letting them dance and retreat around their mouths. Buffy’s body pressed tightly against Spikes, letting them share in every possible molecule between them. Both were preoccupied to notice a blue van pull up only ten feet away. They didn’t notice the black clad, heavily armed troopers exit said van. Spike felt a sharp pinch at the back of his neck before his sight went black. He felt Buffy slipped out of his arms as the ground rushed up towards him. Buffy felt Spike’s body go limp as he fell to the muddy ground, the look of shock and pain still on his face. She had enough time to look around and see three masked people surround her. Crouching into a fighting stance, she never saw the taser gun. With a yelp at the sting of the gun in her ribs, she slowly slumped to the ground, unable to control her muscles. She saw the black boots of Spike, covered in mud from the cemetery. Trying to reach out to him, she felt another sting of another shock before the world went black.

~*~*~
Two things were apparent to Buffy as she regained consciousness. She was tightly tied to a wooden chair and that she was blindfolded. Gasping for air, she tasted the air: musty and cold. She tried shifting around, only to find herself immobilized. Her muscles did not cooperate with her, refusing to move. Ordering her body to move once again, Buffy growled in frustration.

“Ah, she’s awake.” A harsh whisper hit her ears. Not able to tell the gender of the speaker, Buffy tried to speak, only to have her mouth and tongue not cooperate. Another growl, the only indication that she was in fact conscious was emitted. “Now, now. Can’t have the Slayer calling in the Calvary.” Buffy’s muscles tensed up once more as the taser was used. She slumped forward in the chair, heedless of the ropes cutting into her circulation.