Hey girls!

I have truly missed posting on this site! I’m happy to be back, if so only for a while! :)

This is something I’ve been writing on sporadically for a while now, and I’ll try to post the chapters at least once a week! Soon I’m off from work and I’ll have lots of splendid time on my hands, and so I thought I’d pick up my favorite pastime. :)

This story starts up in September of this year. Buffy never saw Spike in Rome – I’m still not clear exactly how they angled that epi on Angel – and Spike hasn’t told her that he’s “alive”. Complete oblivion reigns.

It’s a Spuffy one – and those of you who have read me before will not need the reminder.

Also, I am going to tie things up a bit for the In the Dead of the Night readers who wonder what the hell was supposed to happen in that fic. I’ll use some of the story-line, some of the characters invented by me, but I’ll put a new twist to it. Just to give you a small truce offering over the fact that I won’t be able to get back into it. It’s just, after actually viewing the real season 7, you always evolve with the characters and it makes it harder to go back. So, I am very, very, very sorry that I won’t be finishing it, and hope that this is some small compensation. (If you’re reading this!) ;)

I H-O-P-E I’ll reconnect with old readers and would L-O-V-E to gain some new ones. In any case – hit me back with your love or dislike. (I’m not much for the hating, myself, but if it’s all you’ve got – I can stomach it. Might get a little pissed, but hey, I ticked you off first, right?) ;) In plain English –

FEEDBACK IS FOOD FOR THE WRITER’S SOUL! (and the only pay I will ever ask of you in return for my postings)

I tremble, I quiver, I shake and shiver when I say – please, do enjoy! :)

All My Love, Annie.

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Then There Was You

By Annie

2004-05-13

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There’s just so much that time cannot erase

I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone

And though you’re still with me

I’ve been alone all along

When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears

When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears

But you still have

All of me

-Evanescence, My Immortal-

¤

Lesson the First

¤

“Did you think I loved you?”

She closed her eyes to the taunting voice, refusing to hear it, refusing to for a moment begin to believe that it was real.

“Did the mighty Slayer actually bloody believe that I could ever love any part of her? You’re nothing to me. I should have killed you when I had the chance. I spit on you! I see you for the murderer you are! I. Hate. You.”

“Stop,” she bit off, glaring at the face of him, at the form of him so well- known and now so incredibly distant.

“Oh, deary me, she’s got a tongue. Whatta bleeding surprise, love. Guess I pushed a button there, eh? Now, tell me, what would it take for you to go back to hating me in that special way again, mh? What... button... do I have to push, and trust me, I’d love to push anyone of ‘em,” he smirked, leaning closer and she turned her head away, yanking at the thick leather restraints around her wrists, knowing it was fruitless.

As his finger slid over her collarbone she turned her head back to him, her disgust turning her eyes a darker shade of green as she tried to bite his hand.

“Ah-ah,” he scolded playfully, taking a step back and waving a finger before her nose. “Don’t do that, pet.”

“Go to hell,” she grumbled.

“Now I’m offended, sweetheart,” he shook his head, tilting it a little to the side and eyeing her in a way that made her want to scream. “You know, the rouse of all this, the... perk, if you will, was always to get to see just how far I could drive you. How far I could take you. And I sure took you all the way, didn’t I, love? You looked at me with big, teary eyes and spoke three words that I knew you’d kept inside of you for... years? Months? Whatta bloody fool you are. To actually think that I...”

“Get the hell out of my head!” she burst out, fixing her black gaze in his and he smiled.

“I like it here. It’s quite cozy, you know. All the playthings I love so much,” he replied, bringing out his arm from behind his back, holding a big and shiny knife.

She swallowed.

“You can’t hurt me,” she said and his smile turned wicked.

“I think we’ve established that I can, love.”

“Don’t call me that, you goddamn psycho!” she screamed.

“I am all the mentally disturbed of this world, little darling. I am all the hate, all the fear, all the violence. I am even part of YOU, honey. You can’t rid yourself of me. I am all the war you’ll ever need,” he murmured, approaching her slowly and she drew a breath, anticipating the pain which would surge through her from the wounds he would produce.

“Don’t listen.”

She opened her eyes at the sound of the familiar voice and fastened her gaze in Angel’s.

“I try,” she mumbled, tears suddenly disturbing her sight and she blinked.

“Don’t listen,” Angel repeated with a small smile. “It’s just an apparition, remember? A fiction of your imagination. It’s NOT a part of you, and never will be.”

“Angel...” she whispered and then the knife’s edge sunk deep into her side and her mouth gaped in shock at the wave of hurt rushing through her every nerve.

She woke with a start just as she rolled out of her bed and fell heavily to the floor. She tried to scramble to her feet, but got tangled in the sheet she had pulled with her and fell again. She was sobbing without realizing it and finally sunk in a heap, her fingers clutching one of the legs of her nightstand and her forehead against the dusty floorboards.

Soon enough she began to be able to gain control of herself and she took a few deep breaths before slowly sitting up, wrapping her arms around her knees as she leaned against the bed, glancing up at the cross hanging on the wall before her and then shaking her head a little.

Would it ever stop?

¤¤¤

Giles watched the sluggish movements of the Slayer the following morning at breakfast and after a few minutes he couldn’t bite his tongue anymore.

“Another rough night?” he asked and she gave a small shrug.

“I’ve had worse,” she grunted, taking a sip of her tea and reaching passed Dawn to get to the toast.

“I am surprised you’re taking so lightly...”

“Lightly?!” Buffy interrupted him. “I’m not taking it ‘lightly’, but what the hell am I supposed to do? Find another amulet to uproot... what? ALL evil this time? That’ll never happen. If that psycho wants me to cut back on my sleep, fine. I’ll do it gladly, if it means I don’t have to see its ugly...”

“Perhaps we could try another exorcism?” Willow offered, but Buffy shook her head.

“It’s not IN me; it’s all around me, every day. Could we exorcise evil from the world while we’re at it, Wills?” Willow raised her eyebrows ‘sorry, then’ and Buffy sighed. “Look, if this is the way to get back at me then I say: bring it. I’m not scared of that thing. I just... hate it with the heat of a thousand suns,” she muttered, buttering her toast so hard it broke in half.

“And that’s what’s bothering me,” Giles said. “It’s getting to you, Buffy. What has it been now? Two months?”

“Three,” she replied, closing her eyes wearily and putting the butter-knife and crumbled toast down before massaging her temples. “Something’s causing it,” she added. “Something specific has to have triggered it. I don’t get why it’d begin to haunt me now, of all times. I can’t figure it out, and that is what’s bothering ME.”

Giles looked at her for a moment, chewing, then swallowed and said:

“Call Angel. Tell him about it.”

“I did,” she replied. “Last night. I talked with Cordy for a while. She said they hadn’t seen any signs of any funny business around Los Angeles. The regular demons go to the regular places and beat the regular targets up. Nothing out of the ordinary,” she finished and Giles nodded.

“So, how are you going to deal with it?” he asked and she shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she answered silently.

¤¤¤

“Buffy!” he gasped; sitting up in bed with water sliding down his cheeks and the shock of the dream still coursing through his mind.

He couldn’t take this anymore!

Throwing the covers aside he jumped to his feet and stalked up to the door, twisting the knob he walked into the large apartment, into the kitchen, opened a drawer and retrieved his address book. Flipping to G he barely had to look at the number, but did the ritual for the ritual’s sake. Grabbing the cordless he began punching the digits, his finger slowing and then stopping right before it was about to hit the last one. He felt a shiver run through him and then slammed the phone down on the counter so hard it broke into pieces.

Drying his face with the back of one hand he practically ran into his study, grabbed the phone there, and dialed a different number.

“Something’s wrong,” he grumbled once the receiver at the other end was picked up. “She’s in trouble.”

“Dammit, Spike!” Angel exclaimed. “It’s three-thirty in the afternoon! Go back to sleep.”

“Did you hear what I bloody well just said?”

“Unfortunately,” Angel replied dryly. “I’ve had enough of the wake-up calls. Find a way to make this disappear or I’ll hit you so hard over the head you won’t have to worry about dreams.”

“I’m telling you!”

“You’ve been telling me for over two months!” Angel barked, at the end of his tether. “Did you do it this time?”

“I broke another bloody phone,” Spike muttered and Angel chuckled, then stopped, agitation back in his tone.

“I talked with her yesterday, she’s fine. The fact that you’re completely losing your mind has nothing to do with her, Spike. Either it’s your subconscious telling you to get in touch with her once and for all, or let it go... or...”

He trailed off and Spike cocked an eyebrow, something the other could naturally not see.

“Or?” he then urged.

“Or you’ve got a serious ghost on the brains,” the other replied.

“You laugh at this all you bleeding well want. Something’s not right, I can feel it.”

“She’s fine! The meeting’s at six; try and get some more sleep and I’ll see you there.”

“But...”

However, the other hung up before he got a chance to speak his mind and Spike growled, putting the receiver down and leaning against the desk. Why couldn’t he bring himself to call her? He had been back for over a year... He had missed her every single second of it... And yet, something was putting itself as an obstacle too impossible to climb.

Angel was right – he had to make the dreams stop.

For nearly three months they had been there. Every night had been the same. She was tied, in the same cave he once had been hanging off a wall. Every night he tortured her with words not spoken by him, but by the very last enemy they faced side by side. Every night he killed her.

He closed his eyes, bringing back good memories and shutting out the bad.

¤¤¤

Buffy went to bed early, turning out the light and staring up at the ceiling as she focused all her energy on one thing – control. Tonight she would have control of what went on in her dream, not the beast which disturbed it.

On the other side of the globe, the countenance of that beast splayed himself across his unmade bed and closed his eyes. It was time – to take control.

Soon sleep overcame them both.

¤¤¤

He stared at her. She glared back.

“I’ll never give into you, you know that,” she finally murmured, her voice laced with sharpness and he swallowed. “I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to do, but it’s not working. I know you’re not him. He’d never do this to me.”

“Really?” he asked quietly, glancing at the knife in his hand and struggling with the fear of having to once again let it sink into her flesh. “You sure about that?” he added, meeting her gaze again, and the decisiveness in them filled him up straight through.

“I know him,” she hissed back, tugging at her ties and looking enough fired up for a pretty long beating-up of him.

He’d seen that expression on her countless times before; sometimes directed at him, most of the times not.

He observed her for a moment, during which she calmed herself down and drew a breath.

“What makes you think you know him?” he asked and she held his eyes, hers suddenly softening.

“Everything,” she answered him and he blinked, then slowly approached her.

Buffy felt herself tense up as he came to a stop before her, but then he reached up and the blade of the knife cut her right wrist free. She stared at his face as he freed her left wrist as well, and then his gaze met hers and she felt her spirit lift as she realized it was him. No monster, no other force – but him.

He smiled a small smile and she returned it, her eyes welling up as she placed a hand on his shoulder. His fingers graced her cheek and a tremble went through her as she felt her knees grow weak. She leaned her cheek into his touch, closing her eyes.

Suddenly fire burned her skin and her eyes shot open again.

He felt the sun as he had on the morning he died. It flowed through him like rain and blew away all the darkness. He smiled at the familiar shock and denial in her gaze, as though she hadn’t known this was inevitable.

“This is what we are,” he whispered, her head moving in a numb shake, her tears flooding her eyelashes. “What we’ve always been,” he added. “Fire... and ice.”

“Spike,” she tried to protest as his hand found hers and their fingers linked together tightly.

“We weren’t meant... to be,” he finished and then he woke.

His heart was aching.

Buffy opened her eyes, feeling the tears still slipping down to wet her pillow. For the longest time she couldn’t move, and then she rolled over on her side and curled herself into a ball as the hurt pounded its fist into her.

¤¤¤

“And she said something about there being a dragon where nothing else is,” Kennedy finished, Willow frowning and turning her head to Giles.

“And where was her sister?” he wondered.

“In France. Outside of Paris,” Kennedy answered, turning her head to the doorway as Buffy dragged her feet through it, her appearance puffy red and at the least disheveled. “What’s this? Did a monsoon hit while I was gone?”

Buffy merely gave her a look and headed for the doorway of the small den, bringing her into the kitchen.

“You’re taking her,” Giles mimed to Willow, who raised her eyebrows, then glanced after Buffy.

¤¤¤

Angel entered the apartment of his unsubstantiated partner in the fight against too much bloodshed, heading straight for the study. He could hear fists hitting a punching bag and he rolled his eyes before stepping through the doorway.

“Take it you didn’t manage to...”

“Stuff it,” Spike interrupted, not looking at him as he continued his workout. “You here for a reason?”

“Yeah,” Angel answered, holding up a thick folder and Spike directed his eyes on it, stopping his beating of the bag and frowning.

“The Crossfire dossier?” he asked and Angel nodded.

“We need to go on a little trip.”

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Somehow I know that I am haunted to be wanted

Lately I’ve been walking, walking in circles

Watching, waiting for something

Feel me, touch me, heal me

Come take me higher

I’ve been watching, I’ve been waiting, in the shadows, for my time

I’ve been searching, I’ve been living, for tomorrows, all my life

-The Rasmus, In the Shadows-

¤

Lesson the Second

¤

Willow hung up the phone and turned to her friend, who sat with her legs pulled up and a shawl around her shoulders on a chair by the tall window of the hotel suite; courtesy of one of Giles’ many contacts. The Eiffel Tower was a blackened vision against a sky of gold and pink, but Buffy’s eyes didn’t see it. Willow frowned.

“You have to snap out of it!” she exclaimed and Buffy jerked, turning her head to her friend with a surprised expression. “If you won’t talk about it, then snap the hell out of it! Okay?” she added the last word a little softer, stopping by the chair and reaching out a hand to touch the Slayer’s cheek.

Buffy moved her head away and stood, wrapping her arms around herself and gazing down at the street below.

“Buffy, what are the dreams about?” Willow asked; her voice defeated as she sunk down on the spot her friend had just occupied.

“The past,” Buffy murmured.

“Let it go,” the Wicca implored and Buffy turned her head to her, the formers jaw line tightening.

“I have,” she replied, voice strained. “It just doesn’t seem to wanna let go of me.”

Willow stood and hesitated for a moment before she took the step up to the Slayer and put her arms around her, holding her gently. Buffy let her, resting her tired head against the redhead’s chin and closing her eyes.

¤¤¤

“Get some sleep,” Angel instructed, being completely ignored by the bleached blonde as the latter walked up to the windows and looked outside.

Darkness had swallowed the city a mere hour earlier and he knew that he should rest for an hour since the trip over had been a delightful little one of shakes and quakes and thus not much shutting of the eyes had been done. However, he felt revived.

“Where do we start?” he asked and Angel shook his head.

“I need to sleep,” he replied. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Fine,” Spike shrugged, grabbing his duster and having Angel give him a questioning look. “Is a while since I’ve been here,” the bleached said, opening the door as he finished: “Might as well see if she runs as smoothly as she used to.”

“Stay out of trouble!”

“Yes, father,” Spike replied. “Sorry – I mean grandfather,” he corrected himself and Angel glared at the door as it closed.

¤¤¤

“And then there’s the whole everybody-treating-me-like-I-don’t-know-what’s- best-for-me, which I have to say, REALLY gets on my nerves.”

She delivered a kick to the vamp’s head, then an uppercut to its jaw, before she continued:

“So, I’ve been a little out of it for a while, which might be unthinkable to them now that I’m not ‘alone’ anymore. But hey, I’ve got issues. No, not so much issues really as... problems,” she stated, the vampire stopping its attack to eyeball her. She gave a small shrug. “Okay, so maybe they’re issues,” she admitted and he gave an agreeing nod. “But it’s... normal stuff! Everybody has dreams about... dead vampire lovers.”

“I know I do,” the vampire said, his English breaking heavily in French, and she furrowed her brow before punching him on the nose. “Ouch!” he protested, grabbing the soar body part and she held her arms out to her sides.

“Sorry, occupational hazard... You were saying?”

“Her name was Claire,” he sighed. “Most beautiful vampiress in the... Wait, did YOU just say ‘vampire lover’?”

She stared at him, then smiled sweetly before producing a stake and his eyes widened before the fight was on once more.

“He died,” she said as the vampire blocked her punch.

“Kinda got that,” the vamp replied. “You shaken up?”

She grabbed its arm and twirled it around, making it fall to the ground where he grabbed her ankle and tripped her as well. They both got to their feet as she said:

“It’s a while ago now...”

“About these dreams,” the vamp elaborated his question and she raised one shoulder in a shrug, brushing the grass off her jacket.

“No, not shaken. It’s just... I’ve done a lotta things since he went away, you know? Sure, I still think about him... sometimes, but it’s not like I’m not living my life or anything. And then, out of the blue, comes these dreams and just... tears it all up again. Making me feel like he’s here... Or like he just died... I don’t even know what’s worse.”

“So, you were in love with a vampire?” the vamp asked, a grin spreading on its mouth and Buffy tilted her head a little to the side, raising her eyebrows and then throwing the stake straight into its heart.

It burst into ashes with an annoyed look on its features.

“Somehow they never seem to expect that,” she said, un-moved; walking up and picking up the stake and tugging it at the small of her back as she headed out of the cemetery. “And yeah...” she grumbled to its existence- ending query. “Twice,” she sighed.

¤¤¤

He touched the ground, slipping the ashes spread there through his fingers.

“Recent,” he said and then he blinked, standing and drawing air in through his nostrils.

Couldn’t be.

He drew in the scent again.

And was certain.

“Buffy...”

¤¤¤

She crossed the street to the hotel, looking both ways and halting for a car which honked its horn furiously.

“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered. “Or, I guess, ‘pardon’...” she added, suddenly smiling.

The slay had been slightly therapeutic. She had needed the exercise, anyways. Perhaps now she could let the elusive memories of the dreams go and get to work. Willow had debriefed her in the plane on the way over, but she had been so preoccupied... wallowing... that she figured she had some reading to do before going to sleep.

“If I even wanna sleep,” she grumbled and then halted at the first step of the hotel entrance.

She turned to look over her shoulder, squinting toward a shadowed cluster of trees and backing a step to get a better view. She stood frozen for nearly a minute, but then forced herself out of the thought process which had her want to run over there and... Find nothing. She had had this tingle down her spine more times than one over the passed year and a half. Nothing had always been the sum of it and there was no difference this time.

“Get a grip, Buffy,” she told herself, moving up the stairs and through the large glass doors.

Spike drew a short breath, stepping forward and watching the door close after her. He leaned against the nearest tree and felt utterly torn between tearing after her and declaring his presence, or steering clear of her...

He stood gazing up at the building, imagining what she was doing in there, for nearly ten minutes. Then he pulled himself away, pushing himself back to his own hotel, his whole body objecting to every single step it had to take.

¤¤¤

“You look... alert,” Willow pointed out the following morning as the Slayer sat down for breakfast. “Good night last night?” she added and Buffy smiled, nodding and helping herself to some coffee.

“It was. Met a vampire, had a nice chat... did the slaying. Yeah – vented,” she stated. “Snapped myself right out of it,” she then said with a meaningful look at the Wicca, who gave her a trying smile which she returned. “Did you get the address we needed?”

“That I did,” Willow replied, waving a piece of paper as she grabbed the phone, dialing the number on the note she asked casually: “Did you get a good night’s sleep, then?”

Buffy met her gaze, then looked away and Willow was about to say something more when there was an answer on the other line. Buffy ate her croissant and tried not to think too hard on the fact that the passed night’s scenario from her dream wasn’t merely blurred, but that she also could only remember very short parts of it. It had been so jumbled up that she couldn’t get all the different images straight. Refusing to let herself get pulled into it again she decided to concentrate on the job at hand.

They were going to ask some questions about some mystical force stirring in the underworld. There had been tremors in the earth, rumors among the demons, but nothing solid. When Buffy was told of it she had thought it was the second coming of the First, but Willow had eased her worries slightly by saying that it was not. However, it was a Big Bad for sure and so the word was spread through all of the slayer affiliates all around the world, who were now working on finding the answer.

“Let’s go,” Willow brought her out of her musings and Buffy grabbed her jacket as they headed out the door.

The September sun shone pale and bright in the sky as they hailed a cab, Willow giving the cabby the address. Buffy watched the streets, buildings, shops and people; thinking how strange it truly was how different certain lives were from others. How there was worlds on top of worlds that most of her world didn’t even know of. She put her hand on the window and enjoyed the chill from it.

“Fire... and ice,” his voice rang in her head and she removed her hand as though she had been scorched, tucking it into her other and clenching her jaws together.

Would it ever stop?

¤¤¤

Spike had been avoiding Angel half of the evening. He didn’t want to talk about Buffy with his grandsire and so he had made sure not to even hint that he had seen her the night prior. He didn’t want to discuss her or his feelings for her with Angel because it always resulted in the same... arguments. All be it subtle, but the hints were there and he couldn’t take them. That he didn’t deserve her. That she didn’t... couldn’t... wouldn’t...

He turned the page of the book, looking up as Angel entered the room.

“You ready to head out?” the dark haired asked.

“Say the word,” Spike replied and Angel gave a mere gesture, having the bleached put the book down and stand.

“You were out late last night,” Angel said and Spike pretended not to hear as he pulled the black duster on, flipping the collar right before grabbing a stake. “Didn’t feel the need to patrol, did you?”

“Didn’t feel the need to sit and stare,” the other bit off.

“There are slayers on every corner of this town,” Angel said matter-of- factly.

“Yeah, so I gather,” Spike muttered, heading out the door and Angel followed, furrowing his brow quizzically.

“You met...?” he began but Spike merely let out a low growl telling him to drop it.

Angel was pretty used to the other’s mood-swings by now and so he let it slide, closing the door and proceeding to follow the blonde.

“Well, then – did she run as smoothly as ever?” the former asked and Spike looked at him, stumped for the few seconds it took him to remember his own comment the night before.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “As far as I could see,” he added, pressing the button of the lobby. “Let’s hope this meeting pays off,” he then grumbled as the doors of the elevator closed. “I feel like getting the hell outta here.”

They arrived at their destination and stepped through the broken splinters of what presumably used to be a door. Both of them scanned the room, but there was no body and no blood – only a mess of papers, furniture and shattered glass.

“What the bloody hell happened here?” Spike mumbled, mostly to himself, and Angel stopped.

“This,” he then said, pointing to a mark on the wall and Spike stared at it before turning his eyes in Angel’s.

“They only deal with...” he began and Angel nodded.

“Somewhere out there is a whole lotta trouble happening,” he said, directing his gaze on the window before him.

Spike felt his heart sink with sudden realization.

Buffy.

¤¤¤

She twirled around, aiming her kick high and aiming it true as it hit the vampire straight in the head. It tumbled with a growl to the side just as she heard Bella yelp behind her. Buffy turned around, seeing the other slayer get knocked to the ground and her eyes grew.

“Roll!” she shouted, about to run to her aid when a hand grabbed her ankle in a tight grip.

“I’m okay!” Bella yelled back, voice muffled as she was doing as the senior slayer instructed, rolling away from her assailant.

Buffy turned to the fallen vamp and then pulled her foot out of its grip with a snarl. She brought her stake out with a flick of her wrist, caught it as it was hanging in the air and brought it down into the still heart of her enemy.

It hissed, then burst into a cloud of gray ashes and she shook her head; then blinked. Drawing a breath she sneezed.

“Buffy!” Willow was heard from the other side of the abandoned square. “Buffy, they’re coming!”

The Slayer turned her head to one of the four streets leading into the place where they were situated, seeing shadows begin to move in the darkness.

“Didn’t take them long,” Buffy muttered.

Turning her head to the Wicca she gave the latter a nod before running passed Michelle, who was fighting off a vamp of her very own.

Bella staked hers and turned to the Slayer, who headed for the small fountain in the middle of the square. It was carved stone and topped with a singing angel. This had to be where she would find what they were after, and the proof that she was about the find it was the fact that they were under attack from that goddamn execution squad, drawing nearer for every second.

Buffy jumped up on the edge, grabbed the angel’s head, and tore it off. She stood on her toes and checked to see if her assumption had been right, smiling when the hollowness of the angel’s body greeted her to be. She threw the head aside, then stuck her hand down and searched for her prize. Her fingers hit something leather-y and she pulled it out with a surge of triumph.

“Gottcha!” she smirked, looking at the thick leather-bound book in her grasp.

Suddenly something hit her shoulder, creating a sharp flash of pain which traveled into her arm and flailed it to the side; making the treasure fly out of her hand and through the air to land on the cobblestones to the right of the fountain.

Buffy turned her head, her eyes registering the end of an arrow sticking out of her right shoulder blade, and then she didn’t have time to think anymore. She jumped through the air to meet the small army of vampires which flooded from every possible escape route of the petite square.

“Darn it,” she sighed as she met the punch of the vamp now standing before her with a left hook. “So close!” she added, ducking and sweeping the fiends legs out from under it. “But of course,” she murmured, grabbing her stake lying close by on the ground, “you have to do it the hard way,” she finished, sinking the pointed stick into her fifth slay for the night.

Straightening her back she looked around the square where ten other – though younger – slayers were fighting the vampires off, among them the two she had met before – Bella and Michelle. Buffy smiled a little at the sight of her strong posse, then received a solid kick in the back and went down on her knees. Looking over her shoulder she stopped the attack of the vampire with her left leg, bringing it down to the side and the creature with it, moving her right leg up and kicking it down hard in the latter’s stomach before lying back to reach her stake. The vamp wiggled to get out of the lock she had it in, but just as it was about to break loose she got hold of her most trusted and brought it down hard.

“Buffy!” Willow yelled and Buffy looked up at the Wicca where she stood on the roof, a soft glow surrounded her and Buffy realized there wasn’t much time. “Get the book! Now!”

She got to her feet in the next instant, dusting two more vamps on the way, throwing herself on the ground and rolling around twice before she got on one knee and reached out her hand.

“Got it!” she called back to the Wicca as her fingers slid over the brown and worn cover, but just as they did another hand placed itself on the item from the opposite side.

Buffy looked up and felt her heart nearly stop in her chest.

Time slowed.

She stared at the face of the man before her, into his eyes, not believing that it was true.

Finally she brought the word over her tongue, wanting to get some reaction from him as she felt as though she couldn’t even breathe.

“Spike...?”

He tried to keep the fact that they were in the middle of mortal danger on some thread of his mind, but it was all fading away as he held her eyes with his own. She was as beautiful as he’d ever remembered, more so because she was real. He smiled a small smile.

“Buffy,” he mumbled softly, their fingertips gracing each other and she felt a tremble go through her. “Duck,” he added gently and she blinked.

“Wh-what?” she stuttered, not following and his hand moved up to the side of her head as he yelled:

“Duck!”

His arm made her fall to her right as she heard the distinct sound of another arrow whizzing passed above her. She fastened her gaze in his again where he lay, painfully battling with herself and the overcoming notion that she had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be right. But... his touch just now. The way he was... there.

He could see the eminent shock on her face and understood, finally, that he couldn’t let it stay there. She had to get up, as did he. All around them was a small scaled war raging, they had to join in or they would die. Again.

Suddenly he was close, his arm not wrapped around her, but about her, and when he began to rise she could see why. An arrow was sticking out of it, just above his wrist. An arrow that had been meant for the small of her back. She blinked, beginning to remember exactly where she was and why she was there, getting to her feet as well. She reached out to help him with the wound, but he pushed her hand away and she looked up at him, her pulse raging in her ears and her being feeling as though it had been made into a bundle of vibrating splinters.

Dear God... he was real.

His eyes said ‘not now’ and then he glanced at the fighting group of slayers, as well as...

“Angel?” she mumbled, turning her gaze back in Spike’s with the questions burning.

“Come on, love,” he said and she felt her mouth begin to grow dry as tentative butterflies began to beat their light wings within her chest.

Of subsiding shock, of growing happiness, of swiveling confusion.

“Can’t let ‘em have all the fun,” he added and she stared at him as he brought out a stake.

She couldn’t help but smile a little, feeling as though some entity had warped her back in time. As though he had never left her side. She knew right then that they were on the same page as she was filled with the assurance that what mattered right now was to get out of this alive. She pushed the bafflement out of her chest in the next moment, her slayer side stepping forward in its well-known manner.

“Buff!” Bianca said to her right, tossing her a sword and she caught it.

Spike held her gaze for a moment, and then he turned from her, meeting the strike of an attacking vampire. She headed into the fight as well, sword raised. It didn’t take more than a few minutes until the vampires had all been obliterated, their strength not surpassing that of the combined power of the slayers. When the ashes settled, the air cleared and the sounds of battle quieted, the square seemed smaller than it had when they entered it. Buffy sunk to her knees, her head spinning from the blood loss as she leaned with two hands on the sword’s handle.

“Buffy,” Angel’s voice said right next to her and she tried to look up at him, but couldn’t make the fog before her eyes disperse.

“The book,” she got out.

“We have it,” Bella said, having just been handed it by Spike, who looked at the Slayer with a face stale from held back apprehension.

“Willow...” she mumbled.

“I’m here,” the Wicca answered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more...”

Buffy shook her head.

“I’m fine, the healing ’ll... kick in. Just hurts like hell right now,” she murmured, the sword slipping from her grasp and as she was about to take the fall with her palms, two hands were on her shoulders and helped her regain her balance.

She looked up, granted him a small smile, and then let herself lose consciousness, tumbling into his embrace.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ ¤¤¤¤

I was stupid for a while

Swept away by you, and now I feel like a fool

So confused, my heart’s bruised

Was I ever loved by you

Out of reach, couldn’t see

We were never meant to be

-Gabrielle, Out of Reach-

¤

Lesson the Third

¤

She thumbed the cup in her hand. Feeling calm one moment, and in the next unsure of what to think. The bedroom, which was hers in the suite, was too silent, and yet she feared any noise that would break it. She looked up as there was a knock on the door, and when Willow entered she couldn’t help but keep her eyes on the doorway, expecting him to be there.

“He left,” Willow said, coming up to have a seat on the edge of the bed.

“...Who?” Buffy tried innocently, but the Wicca gave her a look and so she took a sip of her tea, struggling gallantly to straighten the rumble of thoughts in her head. “Are they coming back?” she asked.

“I don’t know. They said they needed to pay someone a visit,” Willow answered.

“Oh,” Buffy said.

“They seemed worried, though,” the Wicca offered and Buffy smiled meekly.

“Right,” she nodded.

“Get some rest,” Willow said after a few moments of quiet, rising again.

Buffy bit her lip and then had to say:

“He’s alive.”

Willow paused in the doorway, glancing over at her and then giving a nod.

“Alive and well, even,” Buffy added, fingering the cup again before putting it aside. “He looked well, don’t you think?”

“As un-humanly possible,” the redhead agreed gently.

“I thought he did,” Buffy confirmed to herself. “Which is good. Wouldn’t want him alive and... un-well. Wouldn’t want him walking around being all wishing he was back in the grave. Though I suppose it’s more a heap of rubble. Nope, not a good thing if he wanted to just be back in that heap of rubble... So, it’s good that he’s... well. So he doesn’t wish he was... dead-er.”

“Buffy...” Willow said and Buffy smiled brightly.

“What? ...I’m alright! I mean, if anyone knows about being brought back and all that, it’s me! Sure I was... surprised. But that was for the first two- point-three seconds and now I am all good,” she reassured, Willow observing her in tight silence before she said:

“If you say so.”

“I do. ...I’ll get that rest now,” she replied and Willow returned her smile before closing the door behind her.

The Slayer’s smile faded rapidly and she sunk back against the pillow feeling absolutely exhausted. And up-side-down. And inside out. And turned two ways to Sunday and then flipped back again. And helpless and rejoicing and terrified. Absolutely terrified.

¤¤¤

“And that’s the last you heard of her?” Angel asked and the frightened young male he was gripping by the collar nodded frantically in his eager to please. “And what of the mercenaries? What do they want with her?”

“She held the key to unlocking one of their most holy secrets!” the man stammered, glancing at Spike for pity, but the two vampires weren’t playing good cop – bad cop, and so there was none to be had. “Now she obviously gave it away,” the man added and Angel’s grip on his shirt tightened. “Whoever is in possession of that book is in great danger, that’s all I can tell you! You if anyone should know what a closed society those numb-wits are!” he finished and Angel’s hold finally loosened.

“Why is the book so important?” Spike asked and the man hesitated, feeling a slight sense of security entering him as he was released from his assailant.

However, the blue eyes of this other turned extremely pointed and so he hurried his answer.

“It holds location listings. Secret meeting grounds and safe houses, things like that... for the members of the Arderia only.”

Spike cocked an eyebrow.

“Alright, you can go,” Angel said and the man made himself scarce in the next instant.

The two vampires began walking, both lost in thought.

“If this is true...” Angel grumbled. “It might mean that the other aspect of this situation has been put in motion, you do realize that?”

“Yeah, but it sounds bloody ridiculous, if you ask me,” Spike remarked. “They haven’t shown their faces above ground for ages, why the bloody hell would they wanna stir up trouble now? Their whole policy is contained in ‘stay dormant’. Ludicrous that they’d be on the move.”

Angel nodded, but looked far from convinced.

“You know what it’d come to, though,” he said and Spike took his time before replying:

“Yeah, I know.”

They halted at the crossroads of their hotel versus Buffy and Willow’s. Spike turned his head to Angel and could see that he wanted to head to the second option nearly as much as the bleached blonde did. And so he didn’t even ask, merely chose right and commenced walking. Soon Angel was at his side.

“What did she say?” the dark haired wondered after another minute of quiet.

“She said... my name. That’s about it,” Spike replied, sounding too confident for the feeling to be real and Angel could see straight through it.

“Not much time to do the catching up anyways,” he commented and Spike shrugged.

“No. I sure picked the right setting, didn’t I?” he said lightly, but Angel shook his head.

“She’s gonna notice the brave face the second you step through her door,” he stated and Spike thought he could hear both a touch of humor as well as a tremor of anxiety in his grandsire’s voice.

“So be it,” he muttered, looking up and having his eyes land on the façade of her hotel.

He beat back the nervousness fluttering about his ribs and drew a small breath.

So be it.

¤¤¤

“She’s sleeping,” Willow said as the two filed in through the door. “Keep it down... Did you find anything out?” she added, joining them in the large living room and Angel sat down on the couch while Spike chose to stand.

“Yeah,” Angel nodded. “The girl you saw today... She’s most likely dead.”

Willow bit her jaws together, crossing her arms over her chest.

“She was the sister to a good friend of mine,” she murmured and either vampire let her have a moment of silence before Angel picked up the thread of conversation again, saying:

“The book contains lists pointing to certain locations that are said to be hosting hideaways for the vamp mercenaries...”

“Yeah, who are those pains exactly?” Willow cut in.

“They’re the order of Arderia,” Spike replied.

“Great. Whatever happened to the order of Taraka?” Willow muttered and Spike raised his eyebrows, making her smile a little. “Sorry,” she mumbled, remembering times passed and seeing on his face that he did the same. “Go on,” she added, fastening her gaze in Angel’s again.

“The order has been under our lens for quite some time now... At first we thought they operated solely on their own initiative, but lately we’ve begun to suspect that there’s something more to it. There is an old myth telling of a secret elite of our kind who have been living under ground for... ever. They go by the name of the Ancients. They are all part of an extremely old bloodline, or so the legend says... We haven’t had the power to back these suspicions up into anything solid, but now... with this book... They’re strong, Willow. If they, for some reason, have decided they’ve had enough of the joys of the underworld and are headed up here... They have the power to unite the vampire clans.”

“Sounds like something out of Braveheart,” Willow remarked, but the wryness was left dangling in the air as the seriousness of the situation was still too fresh. “What does this mean, exactly?”

“War,” Spike replied and Willow turned her head to him. “One of the biggest wars this planet has ever seen. Between slayers – and vampires.”

“Oh... another war,” Willow sighed.

“Yes,” Angel said. “It’ll never stop coming,” he added and she looked at him tiredly.

“I know. The curse of being on the good side, right? Evil doesn’t sleep. How can we use the book?”

“Where is it?” Angel asked and she went and retrieved it from a desk standing against the wall to the left of the windows. He took it. “I think it’s best we hold on to it,” he said and she raised her eyebrows as he placed it beside him. “Just to be safe,” he added, looking over at where the other vamp had been standing. “Where’d Spike go?”

¤¤¤

He entered carefully, closing the door behind him and making a face at the low click it produced. He was shaking, but ignored the quivers as he cautiously approached her bed. His heart was surrounded by an unnerving buzz, but calmed as his gaze rested on her peaceful face.

Suddenly she opened her eyes and he took a small step back with pure start, feeling the need to hide but knowing it was much too late for that. She merely observed him in silence, not moving. He bit his lower lip, at first not able to fully meet her gaze, being absorbed in the carvings of the post of the bed. Then he let his eyes travel to hers and she blinked.

He was amazed at the pull she still had over him. That inexplicable tug her being surrounded him with whenever she was close. It was as though an invisible tie had been forged between them and now he would never break free. Of course, why would he want to?

She wondered why it was that she couldn’t bring herself to say something. Anything at all. A simple ‘hi’ would suffice in lack of inspiration. But she couldn’t comprehend that he was there, and so the disability to believe made her feel the need for words not applicable. She would look at him, and that would be enough for her. What things could they possibly say to one another that they hadn’t already said?

Then the bliss broke, and she remembered all those things with piercing clarity. All the things he had left her with, all the things she had tried to tell, and that he had chosen not to accept.

“How’s your arm?” she stirred the silence, and at the sound of her voice he felt as though he was waking up for the first time.

He touched the place where the arrow had gone through merely a few hours earlier, now it was covered by a makeshift band-aid as well as the leather of his duster.

“No worse than your shoulder, I’d say,” he answered and a small smile graced her lips as she slowly sat up.

“Right,” she agreed, moving her soar spot slightly and then resting her gaze in his again. “How did you know where to find me?” she asked; and then with some afterthought correcting herself: “Us.”

“It was a joined effort,” he mumbled, totally engrossed in her face and the small movements she kept making.

“’Course it was,” she said, turning her eyes out of his and scooting to the edge of the bed.

“Should you be... up?” he asked and she smiled a half smile again as she rose, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders as she answered:

“No less than you.”

He could sense the underlying meaning of those words, and tried to find the right way to say... whatever the hell he could possibly say in dealing with his death... and return.

The moment stretched and she watched him during it until she once more looked away and turned from him, walking up to the window and sitting down in a chair.

“I’m cold,” she muttered, sounding as though she was mostly speaking to herself.

He felt the need to walk over and kneel before her, tell her how stupid he felt for not having told her sooner that he was back. Tell her how he still... how he always...

“I’ll tell Angel you’re awake,” he said and she nodded, not looking at him as he left the room.

Angel walked into it a short minute later, coming up to her and stopping beside the chair as he took to observing her haggard exterior.

“You look like you’ve been through nearly a decade of hell and just now have been hit with the truth of it all,” he said, and though his tone was soft she felt as though it scraped her fragile nerves.

“Almost a decade?” she murmured. “God, has it been that long?”

He moved around the chair and leaned against the windowsill, still watching her closely. She was beginning to feel like a bug under a lens and knew she would sooner or later snap if she didn’t confront him about it straight away. She didn’t feel like taking her confusion out on him. So, she originally inquired:

“What is it?”

He was silent for another minute and she felt her fingers begin to itch with the need to relieve the stress she felt she was under, then he simply replied:

“Spike.”

She refused to meet his gaze, looking down on her hands knotted together in her lap.

“What about him?” she grumbled.

Angel furrowed his brow.

“You tell me,” he said and for a moment it seemed she had stopped breathing, but then she rose, walking up to her closet and opening the doors up.

“Tell you what?” she wondered, grabbing a black turtleneck and a black pair of jeans, throwing them on the bed before she pulled the white sweater she had been in over her head.

The top she had under was still stained with her blood and he winced at the sight.

“He’s back,” she shrugged, twitching at the cut of pain from the wound and then shaking it off as she walked over to the low chest-of-drawers which held her make-up and sorts. “I take it he’s been back for a while so it’s too late to throw a welcome-back party. Well, unless you guys already did that for him, of course. The L.A. crew...?” she asked, turning to him as her used fingers pulled her blonde locks into a tight ponytail. Angel wasn’t sure of what to say and she discarded his lack of answer, continuing with: “No, didn’t think so. I bet all you wanted to do when you first saw him was send him right back to wherever the hell he’d come from.”

Angel was about to protest, but then his expression validated her statement and she smirked.

“Figures,” she said and he tried to look ashamed, but it didn’t stick. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me...”

“I should have.”

“... and it’s alright,” she finished, walking over to the bed and grabbing the sweater. “Now I know,” she added, pulling the clothing over her head and down before having her gaze in the vampire’s again as she finished: “and it’s good he’s here. He’s a great asset, he’s already proven that to me more times than I can count and if we’re actually facing a Big Bad...”

“We are,” Angel interrupted and she stopped her ranting as she fastened her eyes in his.

“You found something out?” she asked and he nodded. She grew quiet for a short while. “Whatever it is, we’re ready,” she then said.

Angel smiled crookedly.

“Now, why does that sentence ring a bell?” he questioned and she smiled back.

“Once a jaguar has its stripes,” she replied and he raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t you mean zebra?” he remarked and she gave him a look before answering:

“No, jaguars are more... pretty. And I look better in stripes than spots.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at her.

“I’ve thought of you,” he said and her eyes grew warm as she rested them in his.

“Me too,” she replied.

The room became still as they took each other in, and then Willow entered, the book in one hand. She looked from one to the other as she stopped three feet through the door, and an apologetic expression placed itself on her face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to...” she began, but Buffy merely smiled and shook her head.

“It’s fine.”

“I wanted to ask Angel something,” the Wicca said, still hesitant, and Buffy nodded, walking to the doorway.

“I’m gonna go get a glass of water,” she excused herself and left the room.

Willow came up to Angel, opening the book at one of the marks she had already had time to slip between certain pages she thought might be important, and before his quizzical gaze appeared a page covered with a depicting of what looked like an inscription of some kind.

“It’s from a wall,” he breathed, his eyes growing as he let his fingers trace the words.

“The language has to have been dead for decades, if not...”

“...millennia,” he filled in. “It’s been dead for over two millennia. And I can’t read it, but I know it well. When I was part of the Scourge Spike and I came across a roll of scripture in...”

“...Tibet,” it was the redhead’s turn to fill in. “He just told me,” she explained. “And he said it carried the same language, but that he couldn’t remember if it was the exact same replica as this, or if it was a different part all together.”

“It was the same,” Angel confirmed.

“And this wall you mentioned?” Willow asked.

“It’s said to be the gateway to the Ancients’ holy city,” he mumbled. “I guess this is proof that it is,” he added.

“And what’s it supposed to say?”

“In large part – those who enter are forever damned.”

“Catchy,” Willow said and Angel smiled the shadow of a smile before focusing his eyes on the book again.

“You have no idea,” he then grumbled.

¤¤¤

Buffy walked on confident legs into the living room, but slowed as it was empty. The clear wave of disappointment made her annoyed. Was she expecting him to be there every time she wanted him to be, she had another thing coming. She knew this, and so she fought to keep her renewed strength fresh inside as she headed for the small fridge.

Opening it up she leaned forward and searched for a water bottle. Not finding any she cursed under her breath and straightened her back, practically jumping with surprise as she turned her head and he was standing not more then two feet from her.

“Jeez!” she exclaimed. “See you haven’t lost your stealth,” she added, closing the fridge and turning to face him.

He watched her for a few seconds, then merely reached out a hand which was holding a bottle of water. She squinted at him, questioningly, and he gave her a look to encourage her to take the damn thing and not merely gawk at it. She retaliated with one that told him she wasn’t ‘gawking’ and then she reached out to take it.

Their fingertips graced for the second time that evening and a flash of their last night together appeared before her eyes, making her take the bottle from him quickly and step back as she unscrewed the top. Taking a mouthful she observed him in serene silence, as he did her.

Their entire history seemed to fill the room for a moment, and for that moment she wanted nothing but for him to touch her. It didn’t have to be loving, it didn’t have to be for very long, but she needed to feel his hand somewhere on her skin, somehow comforting this dead waste inside of her, reassuring her that it wouldn’t stay that way.

Seeing him made her feel like a blank slate, and in the next blink she felt she had no more space left to be written on. Their past having taken up so many chapters of her story that she had difficulty remembering all that had been before it.

He wanted to step close, be close again. That was all he wanted. But the distance he felt separating them now was greater than any he had ever felt before. Even when they hated each other, some underlying current had whispered that someday its flow might be forced to change. Of course he hadn’t picked up on it, and of course it had taken so much for it to even begin to reverse... But now he felt something was demolished.

“Fire... and ice.”

He closed his eyes for a brief second and still saw nothing but the smiles she had given him on their last night together. Felt nothing but the caresses which had been light, and yet stirred the deepest corners of him as the two of them did nothing and yet summed up everything their relationship meant to them. Had ever meant.

What did it mean now?

He had no way of telling.

“Didn’t think you drank water,” she now spoke and he drew himself out of his musings to look at her.

“I don’t,” he replied and she blinked.

“And yet you saw fit to steal the last bottle?” she asked pointedly, but he thought the sarcasm behind it was two seconds from having her smile.

“I didn’t,” he answered her.

“And you had it because?” she wondered, taking another mouthful and looking mock-interested as she observed at him with big, bright eyes.

“You were thirsty,” he muttered and she furrowed her brow, about to ask for more of an elaboration when Angel and Willow entered the room.

Spike’s eyes were in Buffy’s for another dragged out second, and then he moved away from her. She watched him, and then turned to Angel as he put the book down in the light by the desk. He nodded as Willow said something and Buffy tentatively approached them, feeling Spike follow in her footsteps.

She nearly slowed down the see if she could make him walk into her, but then she slapped herself out of it and stopped by Angel’s side. Spike circled to Willow and then leaned against the desk as he too observed what the others were discussing. He listened, but only on one ear. Enough to be able to drop a comment here or agree there. He couldn’t do more as most of his awareness was set on Buffy. He glanced at her discretely, feeling her presence as a rooted, nurturing vine twisting itself around his spine.

How could it have possibly been so long since he’d seen her? He had no idea what power had kept his longing for her at bay for so many months.

“Spike,” Angel said, shutting the book and turning to the blonde, who met his gaze. “I think I know a place to take this. We’ll go there now, before the sun rises, and come back here tomorrow evening,” he finished with a look at the two ladies, who nodded their consent. “Hopefully we’ll have some answers.”

The two immortals left and Buffy sank down on the couch, Willow taking a seat beside her.

“Things never just work themselves out, do they,” the former sighed.

“It depends,” Willow said. “Some things have a way of doing so, you know... when you least expect it.”

“Right. Please, let me know if that ever happens ‘cause it’d be a shame to miss it,” Buffy murmured and Willow tried a smile, which was met by a pathetic excuse for a mirroring.

“I guess Angel told you ‘bout the war, huh?” the Wicca said and Buffy’s eyes grew round at these news.

“What?!” she exclaimed.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ ¤¤¤¤¤¤

I don’t know why it doesn’t even matter how hard you try

All I know: time is a valuable thing

Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings, watch it count down to

The end of the day

The clock ticks life away, it’s so unreal

Trying to hold on, but didn’t even know

Wasted it all just to watch you go, I kept everything inside

And even though I tried it all fell apart

But what it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when

I tried so hard, and got so far, but in the end

It doesn’t even matter

I had to fall to lose it all, but in the end

It doesn’t even matter

-Linkin Park, In the End-

¤

Lesson the Fourth

¤

Spike tried not to care about the zip-lock Angel had put on his mouth after they got back to their hotel. There was something about the prominent danger that the other vampire didn’t want to talk about. It bothered the bleached blonde to the point of screaming, but because his mind had been drifting when they visited the source which had pointed them to certain details of the book, details which had apparently been grave enough to make the dark-haired close himself in perpetual silence, the blonde didn’t exactly feel like engrossing the fact that he hadn’t been paying as close attention.

“Call Buffy,” Angel said, taking off his coat and throwing it on the couch. “Tell her we’ll be at the hotel tomorrow directly after sunset.”

“Is there any point?” Spike asked and the other vampire halted, questioningly. “To upset them,” Spike elaborated. “They’ll be sitting waiting no matter if we arrive just before sunRISE,” he added and Angel arched an eyebrow.

“I promised her we’d call,” he merely replied, going into the bathroom and adding: “Don’t break the phone.”

Then closing the door.

Another few seconds later the shower started running and Spike swore quietly to himself before stalking up to the piece of menace resting on the lone desk of the room. He wanted to put her out of his bleeding mind! He had seen how she and Angel acted around each other, he wasn’t blind! He wasn’t deaf! Then a surge of sudden uncertainty shook him as he remembered how she had looked at him, how she had tried to conceal the shiver that had run through her at the slight touch they had shared... Then again, he had been known to make her shiver for unpleasant reasons as well. Then AGAIN...

“Just pick up the bloody phone!” he growled and did as he demanded, grabbing the receiver and grouchily punching the numbers.

He understood her. He understood everything perfectly. He didn’t understand himself, didn’t get why he couldn’t contain the ever beating jealousy in his breast; even after HE made the choice to stay clear of her. It was HIS doing! And...

“Hello?”

He froze up completely.

Buffy frowned. Listening into the phone and thinking she could hear pouring water somewhere in the background.

“Hello?” she repeated.

“Eh... yeah, hi,” Spike’s voice broke through and she couldn’t keep back a smile at the caught sound in his voice. “Angie wanted me to call and say that, ahem... we’ll be by tomorrow. Right after the sun goes down so... be there.”

He was met only by silence and swallowed, thinking that he actually was losing his mind and that she hadn’t answered at all.

Buffy squeezed the phone, afraid that she’d say something idiotic if she parted her lips. Right then she wanted him there with her so badly that she felt as though she could have crawled through fire on bare knees... but the dramatic image evaporated with one shaky breath and instead she said:

“Great. We will be.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

A hush once again entered between them, and in the quiet they both searched desperately for something more intelligent to say. Coming up empty handed they said at the same time:

“Okay, then.”

They both smiled – though neither one knew – and the tension temporarily lifted. Buffy closed her eyes. Why was it so hard?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she mumbled and Spike wished feverishly that he could convince her to stay on the line for just another minute... or an hour, maybe.

“See you tomorrow,” he then agreed, reluctantly putting the phone back in its cradle as he heard the click breaking the brief connection.

He massaged his neck with irritation at his own weakness. On the other side of town Buffy did the exact same thing before sitting down on the couch and running her hands through her hair with a quivering sigh of impatience.

¤¤¤

Buffy had just finished her lunch when Willow entered the suite, carrying a shopping bag and a wide smile. Buffy smirked, putting her silverware down and leaning back in the chair as Willow pulled out a sleek dress made of incredibly beautiful, green lace. Buffy’s jaw dropped.

“What do you think?” Willow asked, twisting the dress around for the Slayer to view it from all sides.

“Well, Wills...” Buffy replied, staring at the creation. “It’s-it’s beautiful... but... well, apart from that time at Halloween I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you in...”

“It’s not for me,” Willow laughed, throwing it at her friend before walking toward her own bedroom, adding: “It’s for you.”

“I’m sorry?” Buffy asked, running her fingers over the fabric now in her lap before she rose and followed the redhead. “Why?”

“It’s an early Christmas gift,” Willow answered. “I saw it and thought, hey, my good friend the Slayer might wanna actually look lethal some night.”

Buffy’s eyebrows shot up.

“I look plenty lethal!” she protested, holding the dress up and having to admire the pattern of the lace, the skin-tight cut and the under-dress made of soft, green silk. “Stake in hand and kicks backing me up... I strike fear in even the hardest of hearts,” she added, looking at Willow accusingly and the latter smiled again.

“You like it?” she asked and Buffy’s face grew gentler as she once again looked at the dress.

“It must’ve cost...”

“It’s a Christmas gift,” Willow repeated.

“It’s September,” Buffy pointed out and Willow shrugged.

“I’m making a list and crossing some out,” she quipped and Buffy shook her head at her before giving her a tight hug as thanks.

“I love it,” she said and Willow smiled, pleased.

Buffy returned it, and then walked out of the room, proceeding through the living room and to her own room, placing the dress on the bed and closing her eyes as she could feel his arms slip around her from behind, his nose burying itself in her hair, breathing her in, his hands grabbing fistfuls of her sweater, pushing her back against his chest.

The sense so incredibly overwhelming – disappeared.

She eased her eyes open and felt the loss and the loneliness slip through her defenses as she fell on her bed with a discontented rumble. Something told her that the reason she had been given the dress was not to ease the need of tempting a certain someone, but that she would come to wear it for something completely different.

The notion did not help ease her mind and she rolled over on her back.

This war that just might be around the bend...

She rose and walked up to her window, bringing the curtain aside to look down on the street below. It was buzzing with verve and movement and she wished that it would settle down to better fit her frame of mind. She let the curtain slide back in place and walked up to her desk, sat down, grabbed the phone and called Giles, telling him all the little but vital information they so far had gathered and he listened closely. She could hear a pen scrape paper and smiled slightly to herself as she could picture him at his own desk, meticulously recording every word she uttered.

“I’ll call you again tonight,” she promised. “Hopefully we’ll know more then.”

“And things are...?”

“Fine,” she assured. “The help we’re getting is... needed, to be honest. Angel seems to know a lot about this whole... society thing. I’m really glad he’s here.” There was a long silence and she knew what her Watcher was about to ask and so she added: “When’s Dawn coming back?”

“In two days,” he answered. “Buffy...”

“Giles, whatever it is you’re gonna say – don’t,” she interrupted. “Trust me, there’s nothing TO say.”

“I’m just...”

“No!” she interrupted. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Fine, I won’t mention anything... except that I don’t want your heart to beat out your common sense again.”

“God, you’re unbelievable. He sacrificed himself, Giles, what more could you possibly want him to do to prove himself to you?”

“This isn’t about me!” he retorted, then paused. “Buffy...”

“Don’t say my name like that,” she once again cut him off. “I’m not a sixteen year old girl anymore.”

“You weren’t last time either.”

“Giles!”

“You know I simply want more for you!” he exclaimed and she shook her head.

“I’m hanging up,” she merely said before slamming the phone down.

Her heart beat was making her feel sick and she leaned her head against the cool desktop, blinking as she looked down on her feet.

Things never just work themselves out, she thought bitterly. Not even when they do try their hardest to.

¤¤¤

She looked at the notes she had made, read through some of Willow’s again, and frowned.

After what she gathered, the Ancients were a group of highly evolved, mean and disrespectful to anything that weren’t part of their society, enclosed and estranged click of vampires that had supposedly survived ever since the very first vampire stalked the night. Which made them... old. Further more they were endowed with speed, strength and intellect far exceeding any normal beast or demon. Which was... wonderful. She might actually be able to reason her way out of war.

She threw her pencil down and felt another scale of her iron armor click itself into place.

She had been through this so many times now. And it never would stop, would it? This was her life and her destiny. Every single victory merely led her to yet another battle. She didn’t despise it, like she used to. She didn’t even dislike it – this was who she was, and she would never be able to rid herself of her Slayer side or strength, she would never be able to turn off the fact that she cared about what happened to her planet and the people on it. She was one of the chosen to perform this task, and though she had wished to turn her back on it for a long time, now she had come to embrace it. However tiring it might be.

Although there were aspects she would never learn to stand. The death of close ones, was the main thing. The death in general followed close by it. But she would fight. As she always had.

A hand placed itself on her shoulder and she turned her head sharply to look up at Angel, who smiled calmingly.

“I called your name, you didn’t react,” he said and she smiled back as she got to her feet, a little sheepish.

“Lost in thought,” she replied and he nodded that he understood as they headed out of the room. “Find anything out?” she asked, proceeding into the living room, where her eyes landed in Spike’s and she felt the most incredible surge in the pit of her stomach.

Clenching her jaws together she forced it away and concentrated on what Angel answered her.

“We did,” he stated, walking up to the group of sofas and chairs – Willow being seated on one of the latter – and sitting down on one of the two sofas.

Buffy slowly followed, glancing at Spike who was taking off his duster and hanging it over the back of a chair before turning to her. Their eyes met again and she tried a small smile. His eyes warmed slightly and she sat down next to Angel with a light feeling around her heart. Angel had opened the book placed on the table before them and was flipping through it. Spike came up and took a seat on the sofa opposite them.

He tried not to stare at her, but the way his eyes kept wandering back to her must have looked just as foolish and so after half a minute of this he decided to fasten his gaze on the item between them and be content with that. Buffy focused all her energy on picking up every word the vampire next to her was speaking, knowing that they were too important to not memorize.

“Last night we went to see a man whom I haven’t spoken to in almost forty years,” Angel began. “The last time I saw him was in Paraguay... He was in hiding and in a way so was I. We started talking. He asked me what I knew of my heritage, and I told him I didn’t know anything – that I didn’t want to know. He said that everyone should know where they originate from and then he began talking about a secret order that had been out of man’s mind for thousands of years. I thought he was rambling, it sounded too much like fiction. Vampires don’t form societies. Vampires don’t live underground. Vampires of their caliber should want humans to feed on. But then he showed me a paper filled with scribbling he had made of the language that he swore was their tongue – and I recognized it.

“I had seen it once before – in Tibet. I became curious. Thinking that perhaps this was a key to unlock the mystery of my damnation. I searched for more information for nearly ten years after that... I didn’t find much. There’s a handful of vampires that have ever heard the legend, there’s none that can verify that it’s true. Most simply laugh at it – like I did at first. But this book proves that this is anything but a myth.”

“So what does it say?” Buffy asked.

“It says that they’re on their way,” he replied. “They’re surfacing.”

“Why? Why now?” she wondered.

“According to one part of the book it’s said that when the elves dance and the moon stands full a great plague will rise from the bosom of the Earth to swallow its pain and suffering,” Spike was the one to answer and Buffy turned her head to him.

“The Ancients?”

“No,” he shook his head, reaching forward and turning the page over to uncover a drawing of a great, fire-spouting dragon. “This.”

Buffy stared at it, then turned her eyes in Willow’s. The Wicca wet her lips, then nodded slowly.

“Tilla said it was coming,” she murmured, receiving odd looks from either vamp and so she elaborated: “The girl... who was killed by the mercenaries. We came here to see her – her sister said that she could give us answers. I sensed that something was wrong... She was scared.” Tears began to rise in the redhead’s eyes and Buffy looked empathically at her, trying to convey how none of it was her fault. “I should have...”

“Will, there was nothing you could have done,” Buffy interrupted gently.

Willow drew a breath to steady herself and finished:

“Tilla said that fire would burn the ground and that all life would die where it touched it. She said that it’d come from a place where no light has ever reached and that it’d bring great despair in its wake... She said she could see the world dying.”

Buffy swallowed.

“So the dragon will rise and the vampires will follow?” she asked.

“I think it’s more than that,” Angel said. “I think the dragon rising is the trigger. It’s part of some old superstition of theirs – see how the dragon is painted?” he said, pointing to the graceful and proud depicting of the fairy tale creature. “There’s something courageous about it. I believe they see it as their protector. He’ll clear the way. And I also think that the dragon awakening is something that has to do with timing. They believe that this means that it’s their time to inhabit the Earth.”

“This is incredibly dumb,” Buffy grumbled, rising to her feet and walking around the sofa to look at the three others now before her. “Vampires have ‘inhabited’ this planet for... for as long as there’s been slayers! If this group is so damn superior then what would have kept them silent for this long! It’s ridiculous!”

“’S what I said,” Spike agreed. “But think about it, love...” He trailed off, self-conscious for a short second before he added: “Their leader is probably someone who is immensely strong, someone who follows old codes and believes in them... This leader probably knows the prophecy of the dragon, and this leader is the one who has been biding his time.”

“And yet, this is all uncertain, isn’t it?” Buffy asked. “We have no way of telling if we’re right?”

“No,” Angel admonished quietly. “We haven’t.”

“So we... what? We wait?”

“No,” Spike was the one to reply. “We locate the dragon.”

“And stop it before it rises,” Buffy filled in, her eyes beginning to fill with dangerous determination and he smirked in recognition.

“You should go back to England,” Angel said, getting to his feet and collecting the book. “We’ll go to Tibet. There’s a vampire there who might be able to help us further with the whole translation bit. Some key to the dragon’s resting place might still be in here.”

She nodded, walking with them to the door.

“If we fail,” Angel said, stopping halfway through the doorway, “there’s no way of preventing war. You realize that. The Ancients will come and they will see to it that every single vampire out there stand together in this fight. If we lose...”

“Angel... please,” she shook her head. “We won’t fail,” she added and he paused, holding her gaze before continuing out of the suite.

Spike followed and she stood in between decisions for a moment before she said:

“Hey.”

He stopped and turned his head to her. She hesitated, looking into his eyes for a stretched out moment and then she gave him a slight smile before she said:

“It’s good to see you.”

He felt his whole self tune into that simple sentence. Felt how every single burden he had thought he was carrying swiftly lifted. A tender happiness settled in the empty places of his soul and he returned her smile tentatively before he gave her a nod and then turned to commence following Angel.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ ¤¤¤¤¤¤

In case you failed to notice

In case you failed to see

This is my heart

Bleeding before you

This is me down on my knees

And these foolish games

Are tearing me apart

You’re breaking my heart

-Jewel, Foolish Games-

¤

Lesson the Fifth

¤

“What time were they arriving?” Giles asked and Buffy looked at her watch.

“I think Angel said ten,” she answered.

“You think? I suppose you shouldn’t know, should you? I’m simply the one who will be two hours late or – worse – two hours early picking those two up!”

“Would you relax?” she retorted. “I’ve got it written down, I’ll go check! Jeez!”

She headed up the stairs to her bedroom; searching her desk, her nightstand, her jacket pockets and her pocketbook. Finding no note she attacked the drawers of the desk and came out triumphant.

It had been two weeks since she and Willow returned home from Paris. They had done research of their own, but Angel was frightfully right when he said that the Ancients were treated as a story one tells ones young to put fear in them of trying to run away from home. Pure campfire tales. None of the Slayer’s regular sources would even touch the subject. And so, most of their time had been spent on reading up on dragons. Something Giles had been huffing at, saying that whatever they would have to face would more likely be a crossing between a flying Roddinock and a dung-eating Grossinor than anything resembling what was told of in old folklore.

He had, in fact, been on edge ever since the two young women got back. Buffy knew why he acted the way he did, but she ignored it. She refused to have another conversation with him regarding neither Spike nor Angel. He had to accept the fact that the two vampires were a part of her life; her past and her present. Nothing he said could ever change that, and what he thought didn’t budge the fact of how she cared a great deal for the both of them. The discussion was pointless.

It seemed he thought so as well, because he hadn’t even attempted bringing it up. The lack of opportunity she supposed vexed him even more. Fine then. He could act all begrudged and barged-about in his own house. She didn’t mind. And she wouldn’t cave. Angel and Spike were staying there – there was nothing more to it.

Five hours later, at precisely ten-thirty-five, Giles headed the entering of the three of them. The two vampires were laughing at something and at the sound of their cheer Buffy rose from the armchair she had been seated in, putting the book she had been reading down and heading into the hall. She smiled her welcome, giving Giles an extra bright variety and he rolled his eyes at her. She walked into Angel’s arms, giving him a fond kiss on the cheek before stepping back and turning to Spike.

Something fluttered around in the back of her throat as she contemplated how she should best greet him. She was about to step forward and grant him a hug when he made a move as to reach out one hand. In light of it she stopped herself, but he had just done the same and was mirroring her previous movement. Her heart began beating something fierce in her chest at the though of actually having him embrace her... She shook her head a little at herself, about to do what she had first thought, but then his gesture was gone as his hand once again extended.

She felt absolutely absurd, and the fact that Angel was casually observing the debacle didn’t exactly help calm her. Finally she locked gaze with the bleached blonde and smiled a little, he returned it and somehow it was left at that. Giles bustling up the stairs, telling the vamps to come along, didn’t improve the hurried feeling of the ceremony either. They grabbed their timid excuse for luggage and followed.

Buffy walked into the kitchen, putting an arm around her sister’s shoulders and looking at what she was doing, which turned out to be a pitiful resemblance to waffles. Dawn smiled coyly.

“I thought they might be hungry,” she explained, turning the stove off and having her gaze in Buffy’s, who gave her a look. “I was gonna pour blood over it!” she said and Buffy frowned, disgustedly.

“I think – no,” she said, leading the younger away from anything related to food and into the parlor. “But it was a nice thought.”

“Are we going on patrol tonight?” Dawn asked hopefully and Buffy shook her head.

“Two of the girls got back from Vienna today, they’ll cover it,” she replied and Dawn pouted in dislike. “If you say ‘buuut I waaaannaaa’ I’ll send you to your room with no dinner,” Buffy warned and Dawn’s face split into a smile at that.

“Is that any way to treat a lady?” Angel asked, coming into the room and Dawn’s smile turned to him.

“Angel!” she exclaimed happily, hugging him as tightly as her sister had minutes earlier.

Spike kept in the background, but Dawn immediately noticed him as she let go of Angel. She looked at the former for a few seconds, unsure of how to react. Then she smiled hesitantly and as he returned it she walked up to him and gave him a warm hug as well.

“Never got a chance to say thanks,” she mumbled. “For last time,” she added at his quizzical look and his smile widened at that as she stepped out of the embrace.

Buffy watched the scene and then looked at Angel, who was watching her. She smiled and he returned it, but something in his gaze unsettled her. He looked searching.

“It’s good that you’re here,” she said to detour him from whatever he was looking for.

“Good to be here,” he nodded.

“Any good news?” she asked and he smirked.

“Actually – we have lots of it,” he replied and her eyes brightened with interest.

“So tell me,” she said and he made a gesture for them to sit down.

Spike and Dawn joined them in front of the burning fire in the fireplace, and soon Willow and Giles entered the room as well. Angel looked from one to the next, and then began to speak.

¤¤¤

Two hours later Giles led a half-asleep Dawn to her room, having said goodnight to Buffy and the vamps. The three who were left soon rose as well, heading up the stairs. Spike bid them goodnight and slipped into his room while Angel’s lay passed Buffy’s, and so he continued on with her.

“You don’t seem too impressed,” Angel remarked as they stopped outside her bedroom door.

“No, I am!” she disagreed. “It’s just... I mean, it’s good that we know we have some time to find the place where the dragon supposedly is...”

“But?” Angel asked and she sighed, leaning back against her door.

“I’ve been having a dream where war is mentioned,” she muttered and his eyes widened.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” he demanded and she shook her head.

“What do I know?” she murmured. “I’ve been dreaming about the First... I didn’t know if it was real or just... remnants from that year. I don’t even know what to think now!” she added, keeping her voice down in light of those sleeping close by.

His hands placed themselves on her shoulders, making her look at him.

“What does your gut tell you?” he asked and she hesitated.

“That it’s involved,” she then admitted. “Somehow, it’s involved in this. I don’t know on what sort of scale... But, Angel – it’s always been involved.”

“So what does it say, in your dream?” he wondered, letting her go.

“That it’s all the war I’ll ever need,” she answered and he stared at her.

“Buffy, this is serious.”

“It wanted one,” she said. “Now it just might get it after all.”

“Hey, what happened to the We-Won’t-Fail girl, huh?” She smiled meekly. “We’ll get through it,” he promised, pulling her to him and holding her comfortingly. “We will.”

She closed her eyes and nodded a little.

“Now, get some sleep,” he encouraged, letting her go and opening her door for her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded again, stepping inside her room and glancing at him before closing the door. She turned on the light and sighed, looking around at all the familiar things and trinkets. She thought of how, in one moment, it could all be taken away.

She fastened her eyes in her own, showing in a mirror across the room, and tried to not feel even the slightest stir of fear at the thought of facing this great evil for a second time.

“It’s always been involved,” she reminded. “It’s always been there.”

She couldn’t fall asleep. Merely lay staring into a void created by nothingness, struggling not to let herself think too hard about anything.

¤¤¤

She stretched as she walked down the stairs, yawning and scratching her head when she entered the kitchen; looking up and having her gaze fall on his bare back. At the sound of her entering he turned to face her and she was staring at his bare chest for a second before forcing herself to look into his eyes instead. He observed her for a moment, and she smiled, trying to underline how completely out of it she still was an yawning again as she staggered up to the fridge.

Opening it she brought out a carton of milk and put her mouth to its opening, taking deep gulps with her eyes closed. Being satisfied she opened them and met Spike’s – which were now watching her with glittering humor.

“I’ve heard you lecture the niblet ‘bout a hundred bloody times NOT to do that,” he remarked, bringing his cup-of-breakfast to his lips and taking a sip.

Buffy looked innocent, closing the carton and putting it back in its place. Then she smiled a little, closing the fridge and looking at him when she pleaded:

“You won’t tell her, will you?”

“I don’t wanna add to the Lil’Bit’s decrease in values, thank you,” he replied and she smirked.

“Right, ‘cause I do such a stellar job in that department all by myself,” she said meaningfully and he raised his eyebrows.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he protested as she walked passed him and she patted him on one arm, nodding as she headed out of the room. “Buffy! That’s not what I’m saying, and you bloody well know it!”

She smiled to herself as she ascended the stairs, feeling a simple tingle at the thought of him running after her to further bestow his apologies and explanations...

Then she woke.

She was still carrying a half smile on her mouth, but it vanished when she realized she hadn’t been back in Sunnydale, it wasn’t those precious few weeks before his death... He was no more near now than he had been when she fell asleep.

Those moments between them had somehow infested her brain. She could have one pop into her head at the oddest times, and there was no way to erase them. She didn’t want to erase them, but the bittersweet-ness of their presence was sometimes hard to accept.

Especially now.

Turning over on her side she closed her eyes again, hoping against hope that she might get to go back there, with him, for another few hours.

¤¤¤

Spike looked up the next morning when she entered the small dining room, in which he was alone. She paused in the doorway when she noticed this, and he felt a small twitch within at the sight of it. However, she soon got passed whatever it was and continued inside, having a seat opposite him and placing her hands on the table as she looked at him. He met her gaze, growing questioning as it seemed she wanted to say something. She was about to, but then stopped herself, taking her eyes out of his and straightening out the tablecloth – something which needn’t really be done.

This was when he first realized what it was about her that felt so off – she seemed nervous.

Buffy was only an inch of losing control of her heart beat. She kept her breathing calm, but she couldn’t look at him. Remaining memories from her dream the night before made it impossible for her to look at him and not think of how they had spent that time together.

“There’s some eggs and things,” he said and she glanced at him, having a slight smile on.

“There always is,” she replied and he smiled a little as well.

“You live here now?” he wondered and she shrugged.

“Sometimes,” she answered and he nodded a little. “Where is everybody?” she asked.

“Angie and Red went to see her coven. Giles went out. Dawn... I don’t know where the niblet’s at, actually. Think she headed out with some friends,” he said.

“Seems like I’m the last to wake up,” she mumbled and he smirked.

“Thought you’d made it a habit to set the alarm,” he pointed out and she rested her gaze in his for a moment, then replied:

“I did. Things change.”

“They do,” he agreed silently and after another few seconds she looked away from him again.

“Sure do,” she grumbled and he observed her profile as it slowly tightened.

“Buffy, things happened that you don’t... I had to...” he began, but she got to her feet.

“I know,” she interrupted, but her eyes were hurt and he wished more than anything that he could mend it. “It’s alright,” she added and he could hear the strength she was taking of in order to keep her voice steady.

Despite this, he knew her; and this meant that he knew better than to push her when she so clearly didn’t want to talk about it. He would wait for the right time. He knew that it would present itself sooner or later. She couldn’t stay inside that shell forever.

She walked up to the small table hosting the breakfast food and began pottering about, choosing what she wanted and pretending as though she wasn’t still running through their brief conversation over and over in her head.

Spike looked at her back for another minute before he rose and quietly left the room, thinking it best to give her what she so clearly desired – space.

Buffy was beginning to feel stupid. This was how it always had been with them, wasn’t it? Chances occurring for them to reach out for one another, and nine out of ten not being taken. So what if she hated that he, for better or worse, hadn’t contacted her. It cut deep down when she thought of what he had said to her two nights before he died. She had believed him, believed him more than she had believed anything in her entire life, and now it felt as though that belief had been numbingly tainted. And it hurt.

But staying this way – keeping a wall between them that never had been truly there in the first place – was preposterous. And so she drew a breath and said:

“Look, I’m...” trailing off as she turned around and saw that he wasn’t there anymore. “...sorry,” she finished, letting out the air in her lungs through a slow huff; considering her the bigger fool for thinking that bridges could be built over such traitorous waters.

She did best to stay on her side of the smashing waves, and if he occasionally waved to her from his side then she’d wave back; but that was also all.

She thought of the dream she had had a few nights before she met him in Paris. Had it been a Slayer dream? And if so – why? What had it been trying to tell her other than things she was already too familiar with? Spike shouldn’t be what she needed, Spike shouldn’t be who she thought of and so forth; only she got enough of it from Giles as it was – all be it in subtle glances and body language – so why should she be dreaming of it? And why had it so suddenly changed? For months she had been dreaming that he killed her... and then, just like that, he really... killed her.

She couldn’t analyze it any further, she realized. She had been twisting and turning it around in every possible angle and she couldn’t make sense of it still.

“Just another puzzle,” she muttered, grabbing the plate she had prepared and walking up to the table to sit down, glancing at the empty spot he had left behind and then concentrating on the morning paper instead.