With a quick glance at the retreating backs of Manon and Spike, Buffy walked into the kitchen.  It was only the middle of morning, so she decided that breakfast food would be appropriate for the young Slayer.  She was soon joined by Giles and Andrea.

“Did you get the blood for us?” she asked with a carefully inexpressive voice.

Giles sat on a stool at the kitchen island and watched her gather various things from the fridge and cupboards.  Not knowing what Manon liked, she was betting on variety to satisfy her.  Andrea was by the entrance, arms crossed, her expression peaceful.

“Yes,” he replied quietly.  “I thought maybe you wouldn’t find any place still open after your patrol.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, catching his gaze for a brief instant.

The kitchen was silent during a few seconds, until they both started talking at the same time.

“Buffy, I wanted to…”

“Does it mean…”

They both stopped and shared a small smile.

“You go first,” Buffy suggested, hoping that he would answer her question before she even had to ask it.

He nodded and motioned for her to sit down across from him, waiting until she did to speak.

“I wanted to say I am truly sorry about yesterday,” he said as he rested his hand on top of one of hers on the table.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.  None of us did.  We were really surprised, and our reaction certainly wasn’t what it should have been.  Your choices are your own, Buffy.  All that matters to me, to us, is that they make you happy.”

There was the slightest questioning in his voice, and she nodded imperceptibly.

“I am happy.”

He smiled at her, a real, sincere smile.  “Then it is all I need to know.  Please believe that I’ll always be there for you no matter what.  As will your friends.”

Fighting the tears of relief that were clouding her eyes, Buffy placed her hand on Giles, squeezing it softly.

“I would tell you two to hug now that you’ve made up,” Spike said lightly as he entered the kitchen, “but I think I prefer doing that myself”.

True to his words, he walked around the island and hugged Buffy from behind, nuzzling her neck briefly, and she instinctively leaned back against him.

“So, when are you leaving for the mother country?”  Spike asked Giles, his chin resting on Buffy’s shoulder.

“We’ll be leaving for the airport soon.  We’ll take a cab to get there.”

And once again, Buffy thought to herself, Giles is leaving.  It was really becoming a habit with him.  Of course, his life was in England now, but it was nice to have him around.

“What will you tell the Council?”  Buffy questioned quietly.

Andrea stepped closer to them, leaning against the counter by Giles’ side.

“We’ll do what should have been done a while ago,” she said with a fierce glint in her eyes“, and get my father removed from his position.”

Buffy’s esteem score for the woman suddenly grew exponentially and she couldn’t help grinning.  Maybe if she asked nicely they could take pictures of Quentin Travers’ face when they destroyed his comfortable empire…

“That’s one thing”, Giles acquiesced.  “They will ask about the near-apocalypse, of course.  And then there’s the matter of Manon and the new Slayer that was called.  We have a lot to discuss.”

“One thing you’d better not discuss is why we are vampires again,” Spike warned with a soft growl.  “The Council of wankers doesn’t need to know anything about that.”

Slightly puzzled, Buffy tilted her head to look at Spike.  He had said before the meeting he didn’t want to tell the Scoobies about his reason, but from his words it sounded like he had.

“You told them?” she asked him.

“I bloody well did not.”

“Cordelia did”, Giles intervened.  “She explained to us how Spike’s sacrifice saved Manon’s life.  And we guessed that you decided to do the same thing so that you could be together without aging coming between the two of you.  Were we right?”

The softness of Giles’ words made up for the indiscretion of his question.  But it slightly bothered Buffy.

“Something like that,” she replied, unwilling to discuss the fine points of being a Mate and Childe with him.  “Is that why you finally accepted my decision?  Because it all started from saving Manon?”

Giles shook his head.  “No, dear.  Knowing the reason is certainly nice, but, as I told you, all that matters is that it’s your choice and it brings you happiness.  The details of how or why are not important.”

The knot in her stomach that had formed an instant earlier disappeared, as Buffy understood that Giles was being truthful.  He would be there for her, as he had always been every time she had needed him.

There were footfalls from the hall and Manon walked in the kitchen.  She had a pensive look on her face, and Buffy almost asked her if everything was alright.  Instead, she motioned for her to take a seat and help herself from the food gathered on the table.  She sat down with a quiet ‘merci’, not looking up at her.

“I suppose Manon could resume her training in a few days,” Andrea said thoughtfully.  “After a little more rest.”

“I’m fine now,” Manon protested halfheartedly.  “Slayer healing is just a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”

There were vague murmurs of assent around the table.  Buffy realized she had been staring at the teenager as she munched on some toasted bread, and made herself look at Giles instead.

“Remember what Xander said about the military having a party over the high school grounds?  We met Riley on patrol last night.  He questioned me about what happened there.”

“Did you tell him?” her Watcher asked, a small frown creasing his foreead.

“Not in detail.  I just told him there was a battle, nothing more.”

“Who is this person?”  Andrea inquired curiously.

“A military group was experimenting on Sunnydale’s demon population a few years back,” Giles explained, briefly glancing at Spike as he did so.  “Riley Finn was one of them.  He joined the Scoobies for a while, before returning to regular duty.  He knows about Slayers.”

“You forgot to mention he is a perfect wanker who deserves to have his white bread ass kicked all the way back to his bleeding Iowa,” Spike added, deadpan.

Buffy threw an amused glance at him over her shoulder, and was surprised by the cold anger in the blue depths of his gaze.  She realized that Giles’ brief explanation must have made Spike think of how the Initiative had been experimenting on him.  Covering the arms around her waist with her own, she caressed him lightly, soothingly, wishing they were alone so that she could calm him better.

“Does he know you’re a vampire?”  Giles questioned suddenly, ignoring Spike’s intervention.

“No, I don’t think so”, Buffy said with a brief frown.  She hadn’t even thought of that until now.  She supposed he would have said something if he had known.

“And he won’t find out if we can help it”, Spike completed, his voice fiercely determined.

Buffy wondered how likely it was that they would keep this a secret forever.  It was sheer luck only that they had hidden it successfully from the demon world so far.  All it would take for Riley to know would be a look through these nifty binoculars that told about body temperature, and it would be quickly clear that she was not one degree warmer than the ambient air.  Hopefully, he would leave town as soon as the high school was cleared out, which shouldn’t take long at all.  She felt strangely reluctant at having him know of her vampire status.  Not that she was ashamed, or even afraid for her own security.  She was simply anxious that he might try to hurt Spike if he discovered that he was her Sire.

After a few more caution recommendations, Giles called for a cab, and it was time for goodbyes.  With the certitude that her Watcher accepted her decision and had promised her his support, it wasn’t too hard to let him go this time.  He assured her he would call and let them know how things were going with the Council, and soon he and Andrea were gone, leaving Buffy with her vampire love and Slayer sister.  Spike looked at her and Manon with a wolfish grin.

“Now that fun-spoiler Watchers are gone,” he said, “who’s up for a bit of sparring?”

The video relay had just been installed and tested, and his superiors would be calling soon.  Through the large bay window that constituted a whole wall of his office, Riley watched the activity beyond the sound proof, one-way mirror, aware that no one on the other side could see in.  The base was practically operational, with a few last minutes adjustments being made.  On a much smaller scale than the Initiative.  Much more discreet too, hopefully.  All they had to do was catch HST’s, and send them off to the mother base where the studies were being conducted.  Nothing very hard, really, as long as they didn’t repeat the mistakes of the Initiative.  And he was there to make sure of that.  It was the first time he was in charge of a complete operation, and he was determined that nothing would go wrong.

The familiar face of his boss finally appeared on the video monitors, and he gave a salute as perfect as if the man had been in front of him.

“I am listening, Agent Finn.”

“As we thought, what happened at the high school was linked to the Hellmouth and the Slayer.”

“Did you interrogate the girl?  What’s her name again…?  Betty Summers?”

“Buffy, Sir.  I initiated contact with her, but she wasn’t very forthcoming.  It appears she is under vampire thrall.  From the same hostile we were looking for, actually.”

“Interesting.  That would mean the chip allows him to enthrall people.  We will need to study that, too.  When do you plan his removal?”

“In a few days, Sir.  I want to study their habits and schedules to make it as safe as possible.  I believe as soon as the subject is removed and the thrall dissipates, the Slayer will be more cooperative.”

“Well, that would be good, but not necessary.  Your priority right now is to make sure she doesn’t meddle with our business.  And if that means removing her, too, then you know what to do.”

“Yes Sir.  But with all due respect, I am sure we won’t need to get to that.”

“I’ll leave you sole judge to decide of it for now, Agent Finn.  But I expect regular reports about the situation.”
 

The kid made a face when they told her that their usual way to go to the Magic Box was through the sewers, but in the end she was spared that experience as Buffy consented to let her walk there through the sunny streets of Sunnyhell.  Spike was ready to go train as soon as the Watchers left, but his Slayer had other plans, which involved exciting things such as laundry and cleaning the house.  He had managed to escape the battle against dust bunnies by arguing that he had to check and update the online Magic Box, and it wasn’t until the middle of the afternoon that they left for the shop.

Spike was concerned about his Slayer, and the nervousness that came from her in almost palpable waves.  First confrontation with the Scoobies after the grand revelation of the night before.  For her peace of mind, and their sake, he hoped they would be as sensible as the Watcher had been that morning.

They arrived in the shop basement and got upstairs only seconds before Manon walked in through the front door, which was just perfect timing.  Spike barely left enough time to the girl to say hi to everyone before he dragged her after him into the back room, leaving Buffy to deal with the Scoobies alone, as she had asked him.  Conveniently, they were all there, so she would be able to warn them about not telling Manon what they knew about her miraculous healing.

“So, what did I miss that has Buffy talking to everyone in big secret?”  Manon asked him after he had closed the door.

He watched her for a few seconds as she started stretching, wondering what to tell her.  He noticed the rising flush in her cheeks, and made a mental note not to push her too hard as they sparred.  If simple warming up exercises had her heart beating so fast already, she might not be as well as they thought she was.  As for her question, he decided that the truth was best.

“Not everyone took the news that we’re vamps again as well as you did,” he said casually, shrugging off his duster and laying it on the couch.  “Actually, I was kind of surprised that you, of all people, took it so well.  You’re a Slayer, after all.”

“I just supposed you had a good reason,” she mumbled, almost too low for him to catch her words.

“Damn right about that, kid.  The best reason of all.  Just wanted to be vamps again.”

And it hadn’t hurt that it had saved her in the process, but she didn’t need to know that.

Manon had a strange look in her eyes as he came closer and assumed a fighting stance just a few feet from her.  It almost seemed like she was changing her mind about being OK with their vamphood.  But before he could say anything, she gave him a tiny smile and said:

“I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

He returned her smile, and launched his first attack.

Buffy was a bit surprised as they entered the shop to see that the whole gang was there.  Or rather, all the members of the gang who were currently in town.  Better that way, certainly.  She would quickly see how they all acted toward her now, and know what to expect.  Biting her lower lip nervously, she watched Spike and Manon disappear into the back room.  Next thing she knew, she was being attacked and smothered by four humans.  She couldn’t suppress the giggle that rose to her lips at the unexpected group hug.

“What was that?” she asked as they let go of her and ushered her to sit at the table.

She looked at the people around her, Willow and Tara on either side of her, each holding one of her hands on top of the table, Anya and Xander sitting opposite her.

“That was us saying we’re sorry,” Willow said with a hesitant smile.  “We’ve had time to get over the initial shock.  And we realize you’re still you, and you’re still our friend, and did I say we’re sorry?”

“The thing is,” Xander continued softly, “we thought you wanted to be human, we thought you enjoyed it, so we never even imagined you might actually want to be a vamp.  Ergo, the surprise.”

Buffy’s eyes traveled over her friends.  The shock and disapproval from the night before had indeed disappeared.  Now all she could see on their faces was how much they cared for her.  And it felt really nice.

“I did enjoy being human,” she tried to explain.  “But I enjoy being a vamp too, if for different reasons.  As long as I still have the people I love around me, it doesn’t really matter if I need to breathe or not.”

“And we’re still there for you,” Xander assured her, “don’t doubt it for a second.”

Trying to get a hold on her emotions, Buffy gave all of them a warm smile.

“Your friendship means a lot to me”, she said when she trusted herself to speak again.  “And it means a lot to Spike too, even if he wouldn’t admit it under torture.  Which reminds me, he doesn’t want Manon to know about his deal with Cordy, so if you guys could avoid talking about that in front of her…”

They all nodded, and for a few minutes they chatted quietly about everything that had happened in the past few days, and what would happen now that the immediate danger was gone.  It felt just like old times, really, except that they were older now, presumably wiser, all of them different in their own ways.  But the one thing that remained the same was their friendship.

Ever since she had heard Giles earlier talk about Spike’s sacrifice saving her life, Manon’s mind had been buzzing with confusing thoughts, and even as they sparred she couldn’t stop them.  It was a good thing, really, that he wasn’t fighting as hard as he usually did, because, distracted as she was, she would have been unable to keep up with him for a minute.

She just couldn’t understand.  Why would Spike have been willing to give his life for her?  He had said earlier that he wanted to be a vampire, but then why wasn’t he admitting that his decision had saved her?  It didn’t make much sense.  If he had done it for Buffy, she could have understood it.  Or for Dawn, or Steven, or even Angel, she had noticed how close Spike was to these three.  But why for her?  He barely knew her.  She was just a child to him, and he reminded her of it every time he called her ‘kid’ or ‘gamine’.

Unless…

Maybe he wasn’t reminding her of it, but reminding himself.  He had been very kind to her, actually, ever since she first met him.  Too kind, really, since she was a Slayer and he was her natural prey.  Maybe he liked her more than he should.  Maybe that was why he had been ready to die for her.

There was Buffy, of course.  But was everything really fine between them?  The older Slayer had felt it necessary to become a vampire again to be with him.  Was their link so weak that it couldn’t stand one of them being human but not the other?  Maybe all there was between them was that Sire / Childe bond that Andrea had mentioned.  Maybe…  Maybe he didn’t really love Buffy.  Maybe he loved someone else more than his life…

His foot swept her right leg and she fell back on her bottom, yelping more in surprise than in pain.  There was real concern in his oh so blue eyes when he stepped closer and asked her if she was alright and if she wanted to rest for a while.  Swallowing with difficulty, she accepted his help and his offered hand to get up, and felt her heart beat just a trifle faster at the soft touch.

Too many maybes.  She needed to know.  Needed to ask him exactly why he had saved her.  And she would ask him.  Soon.  Not now, though, because Buffy had just entered the room and was getting ready for a round of sparring with him.

Manon sat on the couch, just next to his duster, her hand lingering lightly on the leather as she watched the two vampires dance, her thoughts more confused than ever.

Nervously running one hand over the fabric of her knee-length skirt, Andrea glanced at the man by her side.  It was funny, really, how quickly they had both discarded the relaxed clothes they had been wearing in California to the benefit of tweed and, well, tweed.  Old habits died hard, as the saying went.  But it wasn’t just a question of habit.  They had both slipped in their Watchers’ costumes to leave no doubt in the minds of the persons they would be addressing that they were Watchers, in heart if not in title for Giles, and despite the revolutionary ideas they were going to voice.

The guards at the entrance door hesitated for an instant when they requested access, as Rupert Giles was obviously on their list of personae non gratae.  But a quiet reminder from Andrea of what exactly her last name was had convinced them that the ex-Watcher could be admitted as a guest under her responsibility.

The Headquarters of the Council, in the very center of London, was housed in the five stories of what had been, a couple of centuries before, one of the mansions belonging to a true blue-blood British family.  This family had been quite grateful for the quiet (and scandal-free) help the Council had provided concerning one of its recently deceased, but more undead than dead members.  The building had been a token of thanks – and a bribe to keep silent about this sad matter.

Many rooms, in this old edifice.  Many, many books.  And a surprisingly high number of Watchers.  Well, surprising for anyone but Andrea and Rupert.  The first thing they had done, upon arriving in London, had been to contact as many Watchers as possible, inside as well as outside the country.  They had only told them that something very, very big was happening, and to show up on this day and time at the HQ for the complete details.  Instead of following Andrea straight to the fifth floor, where Quentin Travers’ office, as well as those of the highest ranking Watchers and the conference rooms, were located, Rupert wandered from room to room, alerting everybody he saw that the main event would be taking place soon on the top floor.

Andrea’s hand, closed over a heavy briefcase’s handle, was a bit slippery as she stepped out of the elevator and made her way on the thick carpets toward her father’s office.  Rupert had agreed with her to give one chance to the head of the Council to get out of all of this of his own choice, with his reputation intact.  They both doubted he would use that opportunity, but it seemed fair to them both.

As she was about to knock, the office door opened abruptly in front of her, and two members of the High Council walked out, glaring at her, and hurried away.  Shrugging, she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

“Why did you bring him here?”  Quentin Travers asked her immediately, his tone harsh.

He was sitting in that imposing chair that she privately called his throne, hands spread out on the desk in front of him, dark eyes made even darker by irritation.

“It is nice to see you too, father,” she said, a bit sarcastically.  “I suppose ‘him’ is Rupert Giles?”

She approached the desk but did not sit down.  She knew by experience that the uncomfortable guest chairs were designed to make visitors fidget and to look up at the slightly elevated desk and its owner.  She placed her briefcase on the chair she was standing next to, and her now free hand slipped into her jacket’s pocket.  As her rhetorical question received no answer, she made her offer, looking at the man squarely, as if he was neither the most powerful man in the building nor her father.

“You have a choice, sir, but not much time to decide, I’m afraid.  You can come out of this room and immediately present your resignation, or Mr. Giles and I will convince the Council that you should be replaced with the briefest delay possible.  In any case, I can assure you that you will not leave this building as the Head of the Council.”

The eyes of the aging man widened incredulously, and he shook his head slowly.

“I have tolerated many things from you that I wouldn’t have from other Watchers, because you are my blood.  But this…”

“It is because we are blood kin that you even have a choice, sir”, she interrupted him.  “But knowing that you intended to have a Slayer killed, when our very reason for existence is to help them, I cannot remain silent and sanction your actions.”

“Whoever told you that lied,” he said, too calmly.  “I never planned Faith’s death.  William the Bloody…”

“William the Bloody,” she interrupted him again, "is a truly fascinating man.  Full of surprises.  But then, so are you.  I’d be curious to know how you knew I was talking about Faith, and not about Buffy, for example.  She’s a vampire, after all, so why didn’t we ever try to suppress her?”

The mask of calm slowly disappeared, replaced by cold anger.  Anger against Andrea, Buffy, Faith or himself, the woman wasn’t quite sure.

“Buffy Summers may be a vampire,” he said icily, “but getting rid of her is not worth the risk of failing.  Faith had been lost to our cause for too long.  She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with us.  We needed a Slayer.  She had to die so that a new one could be Chosen.  Being in my seat is not always easy, but that particular decision wasn’t the hardest I ever made.”

Nodding slightly, Andrea gave the man in front of her a sad smile.

“And you just proved to me that I am making the right decision, sir.  I suppose you won’t be resigning?  I thought not.  Let’s go on with the show, then.”

Without even a last glance at the puzzled Head Watcher, she walked out of the office and went directly to what had once been a ballroom, but was now the largest conference room of the building.  She was aware that her father was behind her, but she ignored the sharp hiss of her name that came from him.  Trying to appear confident and serene, she moved through the crowd assembled in the ballroom and toward the podium where Rupert was engaged in an animated discussion with several members of the High Council.  She didn’t concern herself with that; she only needed to get the attention of everyone present.  Pulling a small digital recorder from her jacket’s pocket, she placed the device in front of a microphone after having made sure it was on.  Andrea caught the face of her father in front of the podium as she pressed the play button and could see his surprise and sudden horror as he understood what was happening.  His recorded voice filled the room, and everyone became quiet instantly, including the men arguing with Rupert behind her.

“…  Summers may be a vampire, but getting rid of her is not worth the risk of failing.  Faith had been lost to our cause for too long.  She made it clear she wanted nothing to do with us.  We needed a Slayer.  She had to die so that a new one could be Chosen.  Being in my seat is not always easy, but that particular decision wasn’t the hardest I ever made.”

Andrea stopped the recording.  For a few seconds, the silence in the room was complete.  Then Quentin Travers, after throwing a deadly glance at her, turned toward the Watchers behind him.

“We needed a Slayer,” he repeated coolly.  “The world needed a Slayer.  The war against evil never ceases, and it was a necessity for mankind’s safety that a new Slayer join the battle.”

“The world never needed Faith to be murdered,” Rupert enunciated in a slow but strong voice, walking a few steps to stand at Andrea’s side by the table.  “For one thing, whatever mistakes this young lady made, she paid for them.  For another, there has always been a fighting Slayer.  Buffy Summers may not be the current Slayer, she may not be working for the Council anymore, but she is still fighting that never-ending battle.  Three times she died, and still she remains standing between the Hellmouth and the rest of the world.”

There was a slight murmur in the room.  Buffy was quickly becoming a legend, one of the longest living Slayers and the only turned one to keep fighting the good fight.

“The world didn’t need a new Slayer, Sir,” Andrea said calmly, her eyes finding her father’s as he turned toward the podium.  “You needed one.  You wanted a toy to obey your wishes.  But Slayers are not toys for us to manipulate.  They are precious beings we are sworn to help.  And it is time for you, for us all, to remember it.”

Again, Quentin Travers faced the Watchers, as if searching for support on the shocked and reproachful faces in front of him.  There was some movement, and four men and three women came out of the crowd and climbed onto the podium, joining the two members of the High Council who were already there.  For a few seconds, they talked quietly, their whispers inaudible even in the still quiet ballroom.  Then they all came to stand by the table, and the oldest of them, a woman named Maryan McNeely, announced in a trembling voice:

“By unanimous decree of the High Council and as the Code allows it, Quentin Travers is now removed from his functions and banned from the Council of Watchers for the cause of high treason.”

A murmur ran through the room, and all eyes converged on the now ex-Watcher who still stood in front of the podium.  The few words of Maryan seemed to have taken away the grace that had always protected the man like a shield, and he suddenly seemed a little older, a little weaker, and a little smaller.  His gaze appeared to stray for a few seconds before finally settling on Andrea, and she shivered at how dead those eyes looked.

“Tu quoque”, he quoted in a whisper, before turning away and walking out through the parting crowd.

To her own surprise, Andrea felt a slight pinch to her heart.  She had no doubt she had done the right thing, but she also knew with the same certainty that she had just destroyed her father.  Another surprise came with Rupert’s hand gently taking hers, and from the comfort that simple touch brought her.
 

There were quite a few advantages to living in a real house rather than in a crypt, but as Spike saw it the greatest thing of all was the bathtub.  It might not be something that agreed with the bad boy image, but as far as he was concerned bubble baths, especially shared with a loving Slayer, were very much underrated in the demon world.

The tub was a bit uncomfortable against his back, but the softness pressed to the front of his body more than made up for it.  Buffy’s head was resting against his shoulder, his arms were around her, her fingers laced to his.  No caresses other than those of the bubbles, for once, as they sat, immobile, in the slowly cooling water.  Just a few shared moments of peace and quiet.  Just little bits of heaven.

“What time is it in England?”

“Say what, luv?”

He had been half falling asleep, relaxed by their earlier activities, the warm water and the comfort of having his lover against him, and wasn’t sure he had heard right.  Had she said England?

“You know, time zones and stuff?” she insisted.  “What time is it there now?”

Frowning slightly, he thought about her question for a second.

“Somewhere around 10 am, I think.  Why?”

“I was just thinking about Giles.  Wondering if he has done his little revolution yet.  What do you think?”

His frown deepened.  “You were thinking about Giles?” he asked with horror that wasn’t totally fake in his voice.  “You’re enjoying a bubble bath with the love of your unlife and you’re thinking about your Watcher?  I’m hurt, Slayer.”

She turned her head just enough to be able to kiss his chin.

“You wanna know what made me think of him?” she asked softly.

“Nope, don’t care”, he replied, still pouting.  “Want you to think of me.”

“I was thinking of you.  And that soon you and I will be married.  And that I hope Giles will be back by then.  Because that will be the happiest day of my life and I want everyone to share my happy day.”

Spike could have sworn he felt his heart give a beat at her quiet declaration.  He found her smiling lips for a soft and tender kiss.  Tenderness quickly became fire, tongues battled sensuously, and hands that had been still so far began to explore wet skin, teasing hardening nipples, stroking sensitive flesh.  The position, however, was awkward, and soon Spike broke the kiss, eliciting a protesting moan from Buffy.  Before she could complain any more, though, his lips were back to devouring hers in a bruising kiss.  But in that brief instant he had managed to stand and step out of the tub, holding Buffy closely, her legs and arms wrapped around him, his hardness trapped between them.  As he stumbled toward the bedroom, her mouth drifted from his lips, nibbling along his jaw and throat as she whispered huskily:

“Now.  Want you now.”

Closing the door behind them with his foot, Spike turned around to press her back against it, raising her body until his cock slipped between her moist curls, then letting her down just as he thrust in.  The first contact was intense, bruising, and brought out twin groans from the vampires.  The following strokes were just as forceful, the pace urgent as Spike tried to lose himself in his lover, to become one with her.  Her nails broke the skin of his back, and at the smell of blood he shifted to game face.  The nibbles he had been bestowing his marks on her neck became bites as his fangs pierced her flesh, and sweet nectar flowed into his mouth.  She let out a strangled shout, echoed by his as her inner muscles clenched and relaxed rapidly around him, pulling him even deeper inside her.  He managed to stop his thrusting, lapping tenderly at her neck as her quivering slowly subsided.  When he trusted himself with moving, he stepped away from the door, never breaking the intimate contact, and lowered her gently to the bed, covering her body with his.  She pulled his face to hers and her lips brushed his, followed by her tongue which slipped into his mouth and thrust slowly against his.  Following this slow pace, he started moving in her again, angling his hips to caress her clit with each stroke.  Now that the initial urgency was gone, he planned to make this last as long as possible.  After all, they had eternity in front of them.

Dressed as a civilian, with no weapons or high-tech devices apparent, the man could have been just anyone taking a night stroll through the park.  Except that most of Sunnydale’s inhabitants knew better than to go around at night in deserted places like this one.  Not completely deserted, though.  Two other shadows were slipping through the park, and so far they had two dusted vamps to their credit.  Usually there were three of them, but tonight one of the targets had separated from the others on the community college campus.  She wasn’t the primary target, however, and he had just followed the blonde vampire, keeping him barely in sight so as not to alert him.  He only hoped his superior would give the order for removal soon, because, even if he wasn’t alone on this mission of surveillance, observing the habits of Hostile 17 was quickly becoming boring.

Manon had been living with the two vampires for three days already, and until now she hadn’t gotten her chance to ask Spike exactly why he had given up humanity for her.  She had started to believe that Buffy didn’t want to leave them alone for too long, since the longest time until that night Manon had been alone with Spike had been a whole five minutes.  But then, tonight, the blonde Slayer had sent them off to patrol by themselves while she went to school to take an exam or something.  So they had left her in front of the college and been on their way to a nearby park.  They’d been patrolling for almost half an hour already, which left only an hour to Manon to find the courage to get the answer to the question that was torturing her.

The problem was, she didn’t know what to expect.  Right after she had overheard what he didn’t want her to know, she had begun almost hoping – and still felt slightly guilty about wishing something like this – that Spike didn’t really love Buffy, that it was just some vampire thing.  But after sleeping, or rather trying to sleep, a few yards away from their bedroom, she wasn’t so sure anymore.  Would they do what they were doing – and no, she wasn’t trying to imagine what it was exactly, not at all – so often if they weren’t in love?  Or maybe that was a vampire thing too.  She just needed to know.  And to know, she would need to ask.  Which meant breaking the silence they had both been observing since the beginning of patrol.

“It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” she said a little hesitantly.

“What...?  Uh, yes, it is.”

He hadn’t called her kid.  Good point.  Now to the heart of the matter.  Or the matter of the heart.

“Do you…”

Do you truly love Buffy?  Do you love me?  Do you like me one itsy little bit?

“Do you want to sit for a while?”

Coward.

She half turned to him as they walked, hoping the darkness was hiding the rising flush in her cheeks.  She doubted it, though, because she could see him distinctly.  The features sculpted in marble, the questioningly arched eyebrow, the perpetual upturn of his lips.

“You OK, kid?  Feeling tired?”

Joy and disappointment brought by just five words.  He cared about her, but she was back to being a child in his eyes.  But then, who wouldn’t be compared to his own age?

“I’m not tired,” she said a bit too cheerfully.  “I just would like to sit down a while.  Enjoy the nice night.  Talk a little.”

Her voice had become a whisper on the last few words, but she had no doubt that he had heard.  The eyebrow was still questioning, but it seemed a bit puzzled too now.

“There’s a bench over there,” he said nonetheless, pointing somewhere to his right.

Nodding, she followed him toward the bench, drinking in the sight of his form, for once not having to worry about someone catching her looking.  There was something in the way he moved, something predator-like, almost dangerous, but it didn’t evoke any feelings of fear in her, far from it.  With a feline grace that was all his own, he jumped on the bench, sitting on the edge of the back rather than on the seat.  She imitated him, sitting at a reasonable distance from him, watching from the corner of her eye as he lit a cigarette, the brief flame of his lighter illuminating his features.

“Spike… there’s something I wanted to ask you…”

He tilted his face toward her, waiting, she realized, for her to ask.

“First I want to thank you,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.  “I know that you saved my life.  With your own.  That’s more than anyone ever did for me.  More than I ever thought anyone would ever do.”

As she talked, his face grew sullen, and her hopes sank to an all time low.  He took a long drag on his cigarette before flicking the stub away, and she heard him mutter something that suspiciously sounded like a curse.

“Do you… do you regret doing it?” she mumbled, confused.

Again, he turned toward her, his face now filled with surprise.

“Of course not,” he said, frowning.  “But you weren’t supposed to find out.”

“Why not?” she breathed with a quiet sigh of relief.

“Because I’m a bad, evil vampire,” he said, flashing his demon face for a split second.  “Wouldn’t want you to forget it.”

Despite his very serious voice, he had a slight grin as he said so, and she understood he was just joking.  She doubted there was even a gram of evilness in him.

“I don’t believe you are evil,” she said very softly, scooting just a bit closer to him.  “I think you are a wonderful man who cares enough about me to give up his life to save me.”

Close as she was, Manon could see a storm in the dark blue of his eyes, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good or bad sign.

“Listen kid,” he said, almost uneasy, moving a little farther down the bench.  “I do care about you, but really you…”

“Je ne suis pas une enfant,” she interrupted him, slipping back into her native French without even realizing it.  “Et je t’aime.”

Gathering all her courage, Manon leaned toward him, determined to prove to him her proclamation that she wasn’t a kid and loved him.  And she would prove it with a kiss.
 

“Bloody hell!”

As he jerked away from Manon’s approaching lips, Spike fell off his precarious perch on the edge of the bench, landing hard on his back, stunned for a second as much by her words as by the unexpected fall.  Immediately, she was bending over him, worry present in her clouded eyes.

“Are you hurt?” she asked quietly, the threatening tears clear in her voice.

Mumbling that he was fine, he got to his feet.  He had a sudden urge to leave the kid where she was and run away, but that just wouldn’t do.  He had to put an end to this.  He had to…  God… he was the one who had always ended with his heart broken until now, doing it to someone else made him sick.

“I love Buffy,” he said bluntly.

“But you died for me”, she protested weakly.  “It has to mean something.”

He stood right in front of her, trying not to flinch at the quiet tears that rolled down her cheeks, and put all his conviction into his words as he said:

“All it means is that I hated being human so much that it was easy to give it up.  It saved you, great.  But it saved me too.  It wasn’t the selfless heroic act you think it was, Manon.  It was me thinking of myself first.  Don’t see more in it that there is.”

Her lips moved, but for a second no sound came out, until finally a whisper rose.

“You said you’d take care of me.  Before the battle.  And then you helped me fight.  And you carried me out and you broke the pendant and you saved me and now you say all of this means nothing?”

Her eyes were pleading, and it hurt, because he knew he had been in her place before, begging for crumbs.

“It means you are a nice kid and I don’t want to see you die,” he replied softly.  “Just like I don’t want to see any of the Scoobies die.”

“No more?”

“No more.”

Her eyes closed and he could see she was trying to stop her tears.  He supposed she could have used some physical comfort, even just a hand on her shoulder, but doing that would just give her hope while he had tried to be clear there was none.  He turned his back to her and walked a few steps away, giving her a minimum of privacy to compose herself.  A cigarette was lit and between his lips without a conscious thought of even pulling his packet and lighter from his pocket.  How could he have been so blind? The blushes with no reason.  The always too fast heartbeat.  The occasional stammering.  The way she watched him when she thought he wouldn’t notice.  He should have guessed what was going on right away, and put an end to it before it even started.  But he had seen nothing.  He had acted with her like he did with Dawn, falling again easily into the big brother role, and she had mistaken that for more.  At least now he understood why she had slipped between him and the demon that had almost killed her.  She had been ready to die for him, because she was in love with him.  No wonder she had believed that him giving his life for her meant the same.

“Spike…”

He faced her again, glad to see that the tears had dried, wondering what she was going to say now.

“I’ll never mention this again,” she murmured, her gaze avoiding his.  “And I hope you won’t either.  But just once… can you…  I’d like…”

“You’d like what?” he asked warily.

She took a deep breath, and her chocolate eyes rose from the spot they had been contemplating on the ground and found his gaze.

“Embrasse-moi,” she whispered. “Juste une fois. Rien de plus.”

Slowly, he shook his head.  She wanted a kiss, just one, but there was no way in hell he could do that.  Because he loved Buffy with all the soul he didn’t have anymore.  And because if he did, Manon might think there was more for her to get from him.

The tears were back in her eyes, though not spilling yet.  Unwittingly, he took a step toward her, then another, until his legs were touching the bench.  There was the barest glint of hope on her features as she tilted her face up, and her eyelids fluttered closed.  Pressing a gentle hand to the back of her head, he pushed down just a little, and brushed his lips on her forehead.  He moved back a couple of steps, and for a second she didn’t stir.  Then her eyes opened, each freeing a tear that she wiped from her cheeks immediately.  Smiling sadly, she nodded and got to her feet.  She retraced their way out of the park, going straight to where they had left the car, and he followed her, hands thrust deep in his pockets, wondering whether it was always painful even on this side of the rejection.

As soon as she got in the car, Buffy felt that something was wrong.  She caught a glimpse of Manon, and her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had cried.  Spike was uncharacteristically silent as he drove them back to Revello, nodding as she told him about her final but obviously preoccupied by something.  Just a couple of blocks from home, Manon spoke, and there was a slight wavering in her voice.

“Do you think maybe I could live somewhere else until Andrea comes back?  With you two around me all the time I’m so used to the warning that I can barely tell when another vampire is close.”

Before Buffy could say a word, Spike was agreeing, promising to call the Sccobies and get one of the other two couples to put her up.  One more clue, Buffy thought, that something had happened while she was at school.  But what?  Had they fought?  Had they argued about something?  What could they argue about, anyway?  Buffy had noticed that the younger Slayer had a major crush on Spike, though he seemed clueless.  She wasn’t much concerned about it, knowing very well that Spike was completely hers.  And then, even Dawn had had a crush on him when she was younger.  She had gotten over it, and so would Manon, as soon as she realized she didn’t have a chance.

As soon as they arrived home, Spike made a beeline to the phone.  Within three minutes, he had convinced the Witches, as he called Willow and Tara, to get the spare bedroom of their apartment ready for a houseguest.  From where she sat on the counter, Buffy observed as he told Manon she could go there immediately if she wanted.  The girl accepted the offer, and a few minutes later she was at the door with her packed suitcase.  Spike insisted that Buffy come along for the ride, and she guessed he didn’t want to be alone with Manon.  Spike afraid of a Slayer?  That was a first.  She couldn’t wait to get him alone to know what was going on exactly.

From what would now be her room, Manon could hear the vampires and witches chatting in the living room of the apartment, but she wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying.  Instead, she tried to focus exclusively on the so important task of unpacking her suitcase, and think of nothing else.  But soon she was done, and fresh memories invaded her mind.  She had made a complete fool of herself.  How she could have believed even for one instant that Spike had any feelings for her, she had no idea.  And the worst thing was that he had been so nice about it.  If he had laughed, mocked her, it might have hurt more at the moment, but it might also have helped her get over him.  His kindness just made it all more difficult.

Sitting on the bed, face in her hands and sobbing quietly, she heard a soft knock on the door.  Quickly wiping her cheeks the best she could, but knowing it wasn’t much use anyway, she only hoped it wasn’t him behind the door, or she might just die of shame and pain.  It wasn’t.  Tara stepped in, holding a couple of fluffy pillows, her soft smile disappearing as she looked at Manon.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asked quietly.

Manon nodded, but fresh tears rolling on her face proved that she was far from alright.  Tara came closer and sat on the bed next to her, placing the pillows behind them.  A soothing hand came to stroke Manon’s back lightly, and the young Slayer just stopped trying to hold back the tears and sobs.

“It will be fine,” the older woman assured in a comforting voice.  “Whatever it is, it will be fine, you’ll see.”
 
 

As he drove them back home, Spike could see from the corner of his eye that Buffy was watching him curiously, almost expectantly, but what she expected, he had no idea, until she finally asked:

“So, what happened?”

He threw her a quick surprised glance before focusing his attention on the road again.  After driving the car with clear windows for a few days, it was a bit annoying now to be back to the black paint covering.

“What do you mean, ‘what happened?’” he asked, frowning.

“Manon cried”, she informed him.  “And you were as eager to have her out of the house as she was to be gone.  So I’m asking, what happened?”

He nibbled on the inside of his cheek absently, thinking about what to tell his Slayer.  He didn’t want to embarrass the kid, and didn’t want Buffy to feel jealous, but he didn’t want to lie either.

“I think the kid is more bothered by the squeaking from our bed that by having us playing with her Slayer senses constantly,” he said quietly.

“Because she has a crush on you?”

He turned his head toward her swiftly, and the car drifted close enough to the left side of the road to cause a driver coming the other way to honk and swerve his vehicle away from them.  Immediately, the vampire returned his eyes to the road.

“So, you noticed,” he said, slightly relieved that he didn’t have to decide whether to hide this from his Mate or not.  “Since when?  And how?”

“I don’t know,” she replied nonchalantly.  “It was kinda obvious.”

Laughing quietly, he shook his head.  “Yeah, obvious.  I must be stupid or something.”

She leaned against him, resting her cheek against his shoulder.  “You’re not stupid, just dazzled by the blinding beauty of your fiancée,” she said mischievously.

He glanced at her smiling face, and took his right hand of the wheel to wrap his arm around her.  She had no idea how true her words were, had she?

A few seconds later, he pulled into the driveway and they entered the house together, holding hands like teenagers.  They separated in the hall, Buffy sauntering to the kitchen while Spike went to the living room and let himself fall on the sofa.  He flicked the telly on and zapped aimlessly through the channels until a familiar movie caught his eye.  He wasn’t paying attention to it though, his mind wandering to old memories.  Buffy soon joined him, bringing two mugs full of warmed blood, human by the scent, as they had dropped by the hospital the night before.  He noticed as he took the offered snack the look of distaste she was giving the screen.

“Don’t like Star Wars, luv?  Bloody good movie, it is.  A pity Vader turns all poof-like at the end, though.”

“It reminds me of the nerd trio,” she replied with an exaggerated shudder, and stole the remote control from him.

Usually, that would have started an all out war for the possession of the device, but Spike didn’t complain when she changed the channel, and kept sipping on his blood.  He didn’t even comment as she stopped on what was very blatantly a chick flick and settled on his lap.

“So, when did you finally notice?”  Buffy asked after a little while.

He didn’t need to ask what she was talking about.  That, too, was rather obvious.

“Right about the time she said she loved me,” he said self-deprecatingly, then added, hiding his slight worry: “You’re not upset?”

She discarded her empty mug, and her now free hand came up to play in his hair.  He leaned into the familiar touch, coming very close to purring.

“I think you did enough to prove you are mine and mine alone,” she replied, nuzzling his neck. “And if I was upset every time a woman looked at you, I would chain you to our bed and never let you out”.

A certain region of Spike’s anatomy responded to the idea, and Buffy giggled softly against his skin.  Sitting on him as she was, she couldn’t have failed to notice the stirring in his pants.  She adjusted her position, now straddling his legs, one knee on each side of him.

“I see you’re not opposed to it,” she whispered right against his ear, her tongue flicking his earlobe teasingly.

“As long as we don’t have an audience,” he replied, nipping at the tender scars on her neck.

“Dawn complained about it for the last three years and you never sympathized with her,” Buffy said with a low chuckle.  “Nor with Steven or Giles, and you know they heard us too.”

“Why would I care if they know I’m shagging you? ’S far as I know, none of them fancies me.  ”

“But she does so you care.”

The arm that was loosely coiled around her waist tightened its hold, pulling her body closer to his.  Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deeply, taking the scent of his Slayer, so feminine, so soft, so her.

“I’ve been in her place, luv,” he mumbled, reluctantly visiting old but still painful memories.  “I know what it’s like to be right outside the bedroom and to know the one you love is with someone else.  Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

The almost funny thing was that both times it had been the same man in the bed instead of him, or almost the same.  Which might be one of the reasons Spike was always purposefully very loud when they spent a night at the Hyperion.

The mood was very heavy suddenly, and Spike wished he hadn’t said that out loud.  He was trying to think of a way to lighten the atmosphere when Buffy said, very low, but with a hint of teasing:

“Are you telling me you don’t wish Riley could hear us?”

He couldn’t help laughing quietly at that.  “I stand corrected, luv.  Think we could invite him and give him a show?”

He waggled a suggestive eyebrow, and Buffy stifled a giggle by pressing her mouth to his.  His tongue ran over her closed lips, silently requesting entrance, and soon was granted access.  Gently, delicately, he caressed and probed every part of her mouth, before inviting her tongue to dance.  Her fingers were threaded in his hair, while his hands were on her back, one plunging under the waistband on her pants and kneading the soft flesh there, the other pressing her closer to him.  Her hands glided down his face, caressing softly as they went, until they were on his shoulders.  She pulled away from his lips then, and he let out a protesting growl.

“Buffy…”

She laid a finger across his lips, shushing him, and he licked and nibbled the digit softly until she took it away.  As she let herself slide to the floor, her hands dropped to his crotch and fumbled with the buttons of his jeans, freeing his hard cock from its confinement.  He watched her intently as she touched it with just the tips of her fingers, and had to suppress a groan when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.  But when she leaned forward, when her tongue came out again and traced his length, he didn’t even try to stifle his moan.

Keeping his eyes on her as she licked and nipped at sensitive skin, he wove his fingers in her hair, trying his best not to urge her on.  Quickly, she had him whimpering and begging for more, and with a wicked smile flashed up at him she relented.  The sight of her shiny pink lips closing around him was a wonderfully erotic thing, but it paled compared to that of sliding in and out of her mouth, her blunt teeth scrapping teasingly.  He had to shut his eyes tight not to bring a premature end to the exquisite sensations she was creating.

The hand at the back of her head now accompanied her movements, increasing her pace ever so slightly, while the other tried to find something, anything, to hold on to.  Her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding him firmly as her head moved up and down, caught his, their fingers instantly weaving together.  He was close, very close to coming when she suddenly started purring.  The vibrations sent him over the edge, and he threw his head back, roaring her name as his release filled her eager mouth.

It had been a stupid idea.  No, actually, it had been the most stupid idea he could ever have had.  Including him, his unit counted fifteen men.  Several of them had already taken a turn at the surveillance of Hostile 17, and any of them could have placed the tracking device on the vampire’s car.  It hadn’t been judged necessary until now as the vampire had not been using the vehicle, but tonight he had, and Riley had decided to repair this mistake with the briefest delay.  And he had decided to do it himself.  Which had been a very, very dumb idea.  Not only because the inhabitants of this house knew him and might get really pissed off if they noticed him on their lawn.  But also and mostly because, when he had heard the loud moans coming from inside, he hadn’t been able to resist and had approached the window.  There was just a narrow gap between the drawn curtains, but it revealed quite clearly what was going on in the living room.  With a sick fascination, he watched Buffy and that thing, aware that he should really leave before someone noticed him, but unable to tear his eyes away from the revolting sight.  A sight made even more revolting by the fact that his traitor body wasn’t insensible to it, quite the contrary.  He only managed to move away, completely numb, when the show was over – at least, the first act, they didn’t look ready to stop any time soon - one thought louder than anything in his mind.  If he had needed a proof that the Slayer was under a thrall, he now had it.  The Buffy he knew would never have lowered herself to doing that.

And God help him, how he wished she had…

A quick rain earlier in the morning had left the streets of London wet and slightly shiny under the now warm sun.  From the top floor of the Council’s headquarters, Giles could see the growing activity in the streets of the city, which in no way matched the activity inside the building.  Getting rid of Quentin Travers had been pleasantly easy, and in truth the ex-Watcher had expected that particular battle to take longer.  But the now headless Council had lost none of its stuffiness.

The day before, for hours, he had been interrogated, the questions touching to subjects as varied as Faith’s death, Travers’ attempts at controlling Buffy, Spike’s behavior since he was dechipped.  The High Council had never approved of Travers’ role in giving his fangs back to the vampire, but had not known of his deal with Buffy.  Also, while the Council knew about the failed attempts at capturing Faith, only the retrieval squad had been told that the death of the young woman was preferable to her escape, which Giles had found out by comparing notes with Buffy and Faith.  In the end, Giles had gotten tired of the quasi court martial interrogation, which concentrated on the actions of Quentin Travers but left untouched other more pressing questions.  Since he wasn’t actually a Watcher, it had been easy to tell exactly what he thought to these people who knew more about past Slayers that they did about the current ones.  His outburst had left the High Council shocked and speechless, and he had barely paused a second to give an apologetic glance to Andrea before he stormed out of the building.

He had been surprised to find her at the door of his flat after taking a calming stroll for an hour or so.  They had walked down the street to the pub and talked for a while around a couple of these beers that a certain annoying bleached blonde vampire called ‘the good stuff’.  She had convinced him, quite easily he had to admit, to come back to the Council the next day.  And there he was.

It wasn’t just the High Council in a secluded room that he was facing with Andrea now.  It was the whole assembly of Watchers, in the ballroom, just like when Travers had been deposed.  It wasn’t dry questions and almost sarcastic answers this time.  It was a real discussion about everything that sorely needed to change if the Council of Watcher intended to play its role.  Giles didn’t pretend to have all the answers.  What he had was the experience of fighting along a young lady for almost ten years and the observations he had made during that time.  The fact that Andrea, being who she was, had observed some of the same things in the few weeks she had been an active Watcher only reinforced the power of his words.  It might take a little while before they got to the point of finding solutions to all the problems, but at least now they were doing something.

Giles just wished his heart didn’t start jumping around in his chest like a teenager’s every time Andrea glanced his way or sent him a shy smile from across the room.
 
 

Manon had been living with Willow and Tara for two days already.  Two days during which she had completely declined to come to the Magic Box to train and declined once to patrol, claiming that she still felt weak after her near death experience.  Her excuse didn’t fool either vampire; she had been just fine up to the moment she talked to Spike about her feelings for him.  It was clear she was just trying to avoid him, avoid them both maybe.

Tara had stopped by Revello Drive, and had told Buffy that something was going on with Manon, though she refused to say what was wrong.  The Wicca was supposing that she felt lonely, being so far from her country and having no one her own age around.  Buffy had nodded, not mentioning the other reason the kid had to feel lonely and sad, and promised to stop by after sunset.

She knocked softly and heard some scrambling inside the bedroom, then the door opened, revealing a pale looking, red eyed Manon.  The young Slayer stared at her elder for a second before turning her back and going to sit on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest.  Taking the behavior as an invitation to come in, Buffy did just that, carefully closing the door behind her.  Pulling a wooden chair away from the desk, she turned it around and sat astride it, her arms resting on the back.

“He told you, didn’t he?”  Manon asked in a whisper, studying a suddenly very interesting spot on the wall behind Buffy.

“Told me you have feelings for him?”  Buffy replied gently.  “He didn’t need to.  I knew before him.  Men can be so clueless sometimes.”

A very small shiver ran through the girl’s body, and she seemed to hold the pillow a little tighter.  Without vampire’s ears, Buffy might not have understood the so quiet murmur that came next.

“Are you angry against me?”

Buffy shook her head slowly, smiling kindly at Manon.

“No, I’m not angry.  I do realize you didn’t choose to fall for him.  And I am sorry for you.  Falling in love is a wonderful thing, but sometimes it hurts so much it feels like it’s not worth it.  Believe me, I know how it hurts.  But I also know it gets better with time.”

Manon’s closed expression showed quite plainly that she doubted it would stop hurting, but she didn’t comment on that.

“What about…what about Spike?” she asked instead, hesitantly.  “Is he angry?”

Again, Buffy shook her head.  “No one is angry, Manon.  We’re just worried for you.  You can’t stay in this apartment forever.  The Scoobies are going to the Bronze tonight.  It’s a club, there’s music and dancing and lots of young people.  If you’re going to stay in Sunnydale, maybe you can find friends your own age.  Do you want to come with us?”

Buffy gave the girl a moment to think, watching as she nibbled her thumbnail absently.

“He’ll be there, won’t he?” she finally asked with a sigh.

“Yes, he will.  But no one will embarrass you in any way.  You’ll have face him eventually, you know.  And yes, it will be awkward.  But you two can be friends like you were before.  And with time it will get better, I promise.”

The girl’s features relaxed very slightly, and Buffy repressed a smile, certain that she was going to accept.  But she was surprised when she said, still very quiet, but with the barest hint of defiance in her voice.

“I tried to kiss him, you know.”

A flash of white-hot jealousy ran through Buffy, and she had the sudden urge to vamp out and shout ‘mine’.  She repressed the instinct though, promising herself a little talk with her Mate.  He hadn’t mentioned anything about a kiss.  But for Manon’s sake, she just nodded, keeping her features smooth.

“He got so scared,” Manon continued, “he fell off the bench.”

A very small, hesitant smile flickered on her lips, and Buffy grinned in return.

“Looks like you found a new weapon against vampires”, she joked, happy to see the girl’s smile get just a little bolder.  “So, will you come with us?”

Manon took a deep breath, and replied simply: “OK”.

“Good!”  Buffy exclaimed as she got to her feet.  “I’ll see you there then.”

She took a couple of steps to the door, but hesitated, frowning slightly.

“Kidding aside,” she said in a serious tone, “stakes are way more efficient than kisses against vampires.  And as a member of the ‘been there, done that’ club, I really don’t recommend you get too friendly with the undead.  Spike and I are the only ones who aren’t a threat to you.  For any other vamp, your blood is a delicacy.  Please don’t forget that.”

Sitting by himself at a table, Spike was sipping on a distressingly bad beer and keeping an eye on his Mate.  She was presently on the dance floor with the Harrises and the Witches, dancing to something that could barely be called music as far as he was concerned.  Still, he could watch her dance all night.  He had done it in the past.  The good thing now was that he would go home with her and not find himself alone come morning.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” a hesitant Manon asked as she sat down at the table, leaving an empty seat between them.

She had gone a little moment before to get another diet coke, and had lingered for a while with a group of teenagers who looked somewhere around her age.

“’Could ask you the same thing, Bit,” he replied with a careful smile.  “Don’t your new friends dance?”

“They do, but I have no idea how to dance to that kind of music, so I passed.”

He laughed softly.  “Can you keep a secret?”

At Manon’s puzzled nod, he continued on in a conspirator’s tone: “I can’t dance to that either.  Actually, I’d say what all these people do is bouncing up and down, not dancing.”

She gave him a true grin, and he mentally cheered.  The evening had been pretty tense so far between the two of them, each not too sure how to act toward the other.  But as his Slayer had told him earlier, they had to face each other eventually.

A boy from the group Manon had been talking with a moment before approached her and asked her to dance.  She started to refuse, protesting softly that she didn’t know how, and Spike motioned to her to go.

“Just try it, Bit.  At your age, I’m sure you can catch on to their so-called dancing pretty quickly.  Have fun.”

She relented and got to her feet, but before walking away she gave him an amused smile – second cheer.

“You know, that nickname you call me?”

“Bit?”

“Yes, that…  There’s that word in French, said the same way but with an e at the end…  Maybe you can call me something else?”

With that, she joined the kid who had asked her on the dance floor, leaving Spike perplexed.  It took him a moment to figure out what she meant, and when he did he burst out laughing, startling a couple of people who were passing by.  He definitely had to find some other name for her.

He was still chuckling when Buffy and Anya came back to the table, but he declined to explain the cause of his hilarity.  Xander shortly joined them with more refreshments and his Slayer chatted with the two humans for a while.  Spike himself kept mostly quiet, still slightly resentful about the reaction of the Scoobies a few nights before.  He had been burnt once, trying to see them all as friends, he wouldn’t make that mistake twice.  The band started playing a slow song.  Rising from his chair, Spike caught Buffy’s gaze as he offered his hand to her, and she smiled as she took it.  He wouldn’t be caught dead – or alive, or undead, whatever the case – dancing to the stuff that had been playing earlier, but slow, he could do.  And with Buffy, more than eagerly.

In the now dimmed lights, they stepped onto the dance floor, bodies, arms and hands finding immediately comfortable and familiar positions as they started to rock to the slow beat.  His forehead resting against Buffy’s, Spike could block everything out until all that was left was her.  The changing color of her eyes, her subtle and comforting scent, the softness of her skin where his fingers had slipped under her short top at the small of her back.  So much, in such a small package, and all for him.  Unhurriedly, her mouth came up to meet his, touching gently, chastely, a caress more than a kiss.  Similarly slowly and softly, his lips moved to her chin, along her jaw, traveling down her throat to the silk scarf that encircled her neck.  Nuzzling it aside, he managed to reach what she was hiding from the world, just like his own collar hid his most recent scars.  Except that these marks he licked and nibbled sensuously wouldn’t fade, they would always claim her as his.  He felt her body shiver against him, and grinned against her skin, continuing his ministrations as he felt more than heard the quietest purr rise from his Mate.

Nothing existed but the two of them, and Spike only wished this moment could last forever.  But all too soon, it ended.  Buffy tensed in his embrace, and he abandoned her neck, his head coming up to see what was troubling her.  Just as he followed her gaze, she extricated herself from his arms.  Understanding what had alarmed her, he followed her around the dancing couples to the edge of the dance floor, where Manon was standing, hugging herself, shivering, in front of the same boy she had danced with earlier, and who was now glaring at her as he wiped his bleeding nose.

“What happened?”  Buffy asked in that commanding tone of hers.

“She hit me,” the boy grunted, gesturing toward Manon.  “For no reason.  Bitch.”

Acting on instinct alone, Spike grabbed the boy’s neck, controlling the pressure of his hand to scare him without hurting.

“I think you owe an apology to the lady,” he hissed.  “For what you just called her and for whatever you did to make her hit you.”

The flailing kid stuttered what might have been an apology, but still Spike wasn’t letting go, making sure the idiot was scared enough, until Buffy’s hand gently closed on his wrist.  Giving the boy a last glare with eyes he knew were more gold than blue, he trailed after Buffy, who, an arm around Manon, was leading the girl back to their table.  He listened distractedly as the young Slayer told her elder that the jerk had been insistently laying his hands on inappropriate places as they danced despite her requests that he cease, arguing to her that, being French, she had to be used to more than innocent touches.  Manon had started to get away from him, he had tried to hold her back, and Slayer’s instincts had kicked in.

As they all sat at the table, Buffy was telling the young woman not to worry about it, and that there were stupid people in every country.  All the while, Spike was mentally cursing himself in all the languages he knew.  Not only had he insisted that she dance with that bloody idiot, but, reacting without thinking, he had just done something that amounted to defending her honor.  And by the furtive looks she was giving him every time Buffy wasn’t looking, he had just added one more item to her list of reasons to fancy him.  Just what he needed.

Hell, his unlife used to be so much easier when fighting and killing was the only interaction he had with Slayers.  Being in love wasn’t any harder than being enemies, or at least it wasn’t now, but how was he supposed to be friends with a Slayer?

A few days before, if Spike had defended her like this, Manon might have grown hopeful.  But now, she knew better than that.  It didn’t mean anything to him; he would have done the same for any of the others.  She just wished she could say it meant nothing to her.

Not very long after the bloodied nose incident, she had left the club with the two vampires to go patrol.  It had been Buffy’s idea, and Manon had caught Spike’s brief frown when she suggested it.  He hadn’t seemed happy at all to go patrolling with the two Slayers.  Manon herself didn’t mind so much.  She had missed him for the two days she had spent at Willow and Tara’s.  Seeing him, now that she knew for sure that she didn’t stand a chance in hell, was painful, true, but at the same time strangely nice.  For most of the evening, he had been playing along, treating her no differently than he had before he knew what she felt for him.  And then that stupid boy had ruined the night.  After that, Spike had avoided talking to her, wasn’t even looking at her.  And before they reached the closest cemetery, he had excused himself, declaring that he was going to scout demon bars and see if he could find any interesting information there.  Manon wasn’t stupid; she understood he had left so that he wouldn’t be around her.  And it hurt, just as much as when he had rejected her.  It hurt, because Buffy had said they could still be friends, and Manon had believed it, hoped it.  But it was clear now that the bleached blonde vamp didn’t care much for that idea.  He even preferred to be away from Buffy for a little while – and if two people were inseparable, it was them – rather than patrolling with both Slayers.

No, just being friends would never work.  Avoiding him completely wasn’t possible either.  That left one choice for Manon to ponder.  She had toyed with the idea a little, being around the Witches and their books as well as magical stuff had made it seem normal.  While she was alone in the apartment, she had gone through their old books, almost as a game at first, just to see if there even was something in there that would help.  To her own surprise, she had found a spell.  She hadn’t seriously considered it until now, it had just been something to occupy her mind.  But maybe it was the solution, after all.
 
 

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