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

Oceans apart, day after day

And I slowly go insane

I hear your voice on the line

But it doesn’t stop the pain

If I see you next to never

How can we say forever

I wonder how we can survive this romance

But in the end, if I’m with you, I’ll take the chance

Where ever you go

Whatever you do

I will be right here waiting for you

Whatever it takes

Or how my heart breaks

I will be right here waiting for you

-Richard Marx, Waiting for You-

¤

Lesson the Sixteenth

¤

“Find anything?”

Giles looked up, rather startled, at the sound of the Slayer’s voice.

“Good Lord, are you still up?” he asked and she gave a small shrug as she sunk down on a chair next to him where he was sitting at the dining room table.

“Can’t sleep,” she muttered; pulling one of the dozen or so books, placed before the Watcher, to her and glancing at the first page before she sighed, sitting back.

Giles removed his glasses, polishing them in the silence and then replaced them to take the Slayer in. Looking at her he could see the wrinkles of stress around her brow and eyes, the weariness in her gaze and the heaviness of her eyelids. She had a small pout on, and he couldn’t keep himself from drawing the sudden conclusion that her sleeplessness had not all to do with the prominent danger.

“For Heaven’s sake,” he grumbled, not wishing to be her confession booth and therefore he directed his focus back on the book in front of him.

Buffy furrowed her brow.

“Well, I’m sorry if sleep doesn’t just come over me, it’s not like pulling down a blind, you know? I’m... tense. I can’t help it. I’m...”

“Here,” he interrupted her, reaching over a stake and as she stared at it he looked over at her, then wiggled it. “Go on. Go out; get all that tension out of your system.”

She blinked, then took the weapon, still rather stumped at the unforeseen reaction from the older. Then she rose, admitting that it actually was a pretty good idea. Some exercise would have her sleep like a baby in no time. She left the room with a pat on Giles back, grabbing her jacket in the hall and continuing outside as she pulled it on.

It had just stopped raining and the air smelled sweetly of wet soil and drenched leaves. Winter was in the air and snow had been predicted for the next day. She drew a deep breath and strolled down the calm streets toward the center of the small town, crossing her arms over her chest and thinking of how only twenty-four hours earlier she had been in the embrace of someone who...

She suddenly smiled widely.

For some reason, every time she thought of Spike now, a whole parade of old memories accompanied the image of his face. She was amazed at how many there actually was. At how all of them moved her in some way, struck a certain cord. All the love he had given her, throughout. All the support and strength he always had granted her, never holding back on it in any way. It made her want to laugh when she thought of how it even had been there when she still despised the very sight of him... She hadn’t sought it back then, but gotten it none the less – and she had always soaked it up... In the end she supposed all the bickering, all the fights and all the clear hatred they had shown each other had empowered this love she held for him. She supposed that was the way it worked. One moment you’re convinced of one thing, and the next moment you find yourself smack in the middle of the complete opposite.

“No wonder I was always so messed up,” she muttered, though she smiled again.

A hand grabbed her shoulder in a crushing grip, twirling her around and having its connected arm pull her tightly against the vampire it belonged to. It was more than ready to bite, however she was more than ready to slay and she pushed it away harshly, having it stumble backwards.

“Sorry,” she said, then furrowed her brow. “Not really,” she added, grabbing the stake in a harder grip as she went head first into the battle.

¤¤¤

Spike stirred his breakfast blood with a plastic spoon – it being all that he could find to be clean at the office – and sighed. He kept seeing Buffy standing in the doorway with a half-smile on, as though trying to say “Come on, you really weren’t expecting me?”. But she wasn’t there. And he was bored, and lonely, and... brooding!

“Bloody hell,” he breathed in agitation, pushing the mug away as he had no apatite and rising to his feet just as the brood-master himself stepped through the door.

“Here,” Angel merely said, tossing a stack of files down on the desk and then turning, walking out through the doorway again.

Spike turned his gaze on the files and sat down again. He took the top one and opened it.

“Groovy,” he grumbled, then smiled to himself at the thought of Buffy.

It was nearly three weeks until Christmas. It was two weeks until she’d join their forces as they headed into the Hellmouth. Two weeks...

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, overcome by the fright which rested in his heart of everything having changed. Two weeks was such a short time. But what if it was enough to reverse whatever spell had brought forth that kiss? What if she came there and there was nothing? They couldn’t get back to it?

“Stop,” he instructed himself. “Or you’ll go bleeding mad.”

The phone rang and he welcomed the distraction, picking it up he said:

“Yeah?”

“You know, you could at least state your name when you’re at work. Someone calling you...”

“...would know that this is my phone,” he interrupted her, the tickle of a smile in either corner of his mouth as he sat back in the chair again.

She smiled as well, leaning against the desk in Giles’ study and relishing the sound of the voice at the other end.

“I wanted to see if Camelia’s been in touch yet,” she said and Spike raised his eyebrows.

“I said I’d call,” he replied. “Let you know.”

“Yeah, I know you said that... I thought you might’ve forgotten, being so busy and all.”

“It’s barely more than a day since you left,” he pointed out.

“Hmh, time sure does fly... or feel like it’s flying or... something.” He smirked. “So, anything else exciting happening?”

“The most exiting thing happening right here, right now is the fact that I broke my electric pencil sharpener last night and now have to use a bloody regular one.”

She giggled at that.

“Thought you’d just use your teeth,” she pointed out and he shook his head.

“No, not too fond of wooden splinters cutting into my gums,” he stated and she giggled again, sending warm floods of pleasurable sensations pouring along his spine and into his nerves.

“Sounds very healthy and well-thought-out-y of you,” she said and he smirked again.

“I can be quite the well-thinking-outer when I wanna be,” he admonished and she laughed, picking with Giles’ collection of pens and feeling how she was blushing for no particular reason.

“So I’ve noticed,” she then said to Spike’s former sentence, the warm fluttering about in her stomach merely intensifying when he chuckled softly.

“How’s the research going in your department?” he wondered and she grumbled.

“Well, the translation of the wall-scripture is put on pause... Gee, who knew when they say a language is dead that means that it really is six feet under and that you need a whole archeology team to dig it up again, huh?”

His smile widened at that comment.

“You never change,” he said gently and she blinked.

“H-how do you mean?” she stuttered, and he caught himself, not sure of what to say.

“Your innocence,” he then mumbled. “You may think you’ve lost it, Slayer – but it’s there... In your flaky comments... in your sense of humor... I... I just miss that sometimes,” he finished.

Buffy nearly gaped, then smiled, the warm fluttering turning into a slow bloom which spread through her at the sincerity of his tone. Then she frowned.

“What ‘flaky’? I’m not ‘flaky’!” she said and he smiled again.

“Oh, but it’s in the most adorable way,” he teased and she pouted, though she couldn’t suppress a smile.

They grew quiet for a short while, and then Buffy said:

“So tell me about this Camelia person. What’s the tie there? How ‘d you meet and everything? Sounds like she’s... important, or something.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“She’s a slayer... She’s almost twenty-seven... She’s good, Buffy, she’s really good.”

“You’ve fought her?” Buffy muttered, biting her lip at the slight jealousy in her voice, but unable to fully swallow it down.

“No, I’ve fought WITH her,” Spike answered and she smiled a small smile.

“Of course,” she mumbled.

“She’s just a contact. And a friend. We met during a routine job and she helped me and Angel out, put us in touch with the group of slayers she heads up. It’s the Dandy-branch, if you’re wondering.”

“Oh,” Buffy nodded. “Right. Who chose that name, by the way?” she added and he smiled at the sarcasm.

“Not Camelia,” he answered and Buffy rolled her eyes. “And I’d think you – if anyone – would say she’s very important,” he finished and Buffy sighed.

“Right,” she murmured. “I mean, yeah – ‘course she is. And it’s good that she’s so really good, too,” she added and Spike’s smile grew.

“Come on, she’s got nothing on YOU, love,” he said, making it impossible for Buffy to not have her smile grow bright.

“I didn’t think so,” she stated lightly. “You know... if you ever wanna hear me flake or get humored up... I’m just a phone call away.”

“You are, eh?” he asked, voice lowered at this simple invitation and she felt her heart beat a little harder in her chest as she really had had no time to reflect before saying what she had just said.

“Yes,” she then replied. “I am.”

“I’ll remember that,” he promised and she knew that the conversation was soon to be over.

“Take care,” she mumbled.

“You too,” he encouraged and then they both reluctantly hung up.

¤¤¤

The following afternoon Buffy walked into Willow’s room. The Wicca was sitting on her bed, folding laundry. Buffy sat down on the other side of the heap of clothes, receiving a glance from the redhead. The Slayer didn’t speak, but Willow got the sense that she had something on her mind.

“Do you...?” she finally began and Willow stopped what she was doing, looking at her friend in wait of the continuance. “Do you... like Spike?” Buffy asked, looking as though she felt very foolish and Willow smiled at her.

“Considering all the reasons I have not to like him, it’s a miracle I do,” she answered and Buffy smirked self-consciously.

“He did save the world that one time,” she then remarked and Willow’s smile widened.

“There is that,” she nodded, getting back to her folding. After a momentary pause she added casually: “You really miss him, don’t you?”

“Wills, I think I’m gonna go crazy,” Buffy admitted, getting to her feet and beginning to pace. “And the irony is, is that it’s him! All this time, everything that’s happened to me, and he’s that one person that... that...”

“Completes you?” Willow asked, though her tone was brimming with tease and Buffy gave her a look.

“No,” she then said, but had to smile. “Or...” she then murmured before growling and sliding her hands though her hair in frustration. “It’s ridiculous! Another vampire. I’m a pretty nice-looking, witty and well-coordinated young woman. I should be able to focus my energy on... Thing is – this speech is worth nothing to me anymore. I gave it to myself a thousand times over those years. ‘Buffy, you need stability, you need reliability, you need some kind of normality in your life!’ But the hell of it is... I love him.”

Willow stopped her work again, this time staring at her friend, and then having a smile quickly place itself on her mouth.

“I love him, Willow. And his love was the only really stabile, reliable, normal thing that I had going for me through all of it, and I couldn’t... I wouldn’t see it. See him. I’m so done with that. And yes, I miss him right now so much it feels like I’m gonna lose my mind. When I think of how spoiled I always was, being able to talk to him whenever I felt like it...”

“So call him. Ask him to come here...”

“Are you nuts?! I can’t do that!”

“Why?” Willow inquired patiently.

“Because... I don’t know if he still... I mean, he might not still...”

Willow smirked.

“Can’t even say it, can you?” she asked. “Maybe that means something?” she added and Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, it means that I’m petrified at the thought of losing him. I love him so much I feel like I’m gonna... combust! Or explode! Like I need to scream to get some of the pressure from it out of me! But it doesn’t help. In the long run...”

“...the only thing that will – is him,” Willow finished for her. “Call him. Tell him. Buffy,” she made her friend meet her gaze.

But Buffy merely smiled.

“Know what – I do feel better,” she stated.

“Buffy!” Willow called after her as she turned and left the room.

“Thank you!” Buffy merely called back.

¤¤¤

Two days later she sprawled herself on her bed after another full-evening of eventful slayer duty. It was truly wonderful how the work-out helped relax her. Of course, she had to do it for at least four hours... or it didn’t relax her at all. A few good hits to the head also helped with blocking out all those late night patrols she had shared with the bleached blonde. And all the play they had shared for some time after they had rounded them up...

She now drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly and having the sense of him grow strong around her. She whined. She didn’t need it, she only wanted to go to sleep.

‘Hush, love... Just let me...’

She bit her lower lip as she imagined his hands slipping up her thighs, her legs spreading, the weight of him... Then she rolled over on her side in irritation, and just like that she could feel his arms move to hold her, pull her back against his chest, and she had to smile a little; though the sensation gently faded until she once again was all alone.

¤¤¤

She could see Caleb stand beside her bed, looking down at her, the moment before she opened her eyes. She realized that she was in Spike’s arms, but was disoriented for a moment of whether it was real or not. Then her expression grew filled with disdain.

“I don’t know who or what the hell you are, but I command you – get out,” she murmured and Caleb smiled.

“You tease,” he replied. “You do know who and what the hell I am.”

The Slayer stared as the form of the preacher turned into that of a beautiful young woman, her hair reaching her waist in raven locks and her eyes piercing blue as she watched the two bodies before her on the bed. She wore a gown of purple velvet and was a vision to behold, yet it didn’t move the blonde for a moment. She could see the immense evil resting in the other’s un-beating heart, and she concluded that yes, she did know exactly who she was.

Rolling out of Spike’s arms carefully she kept her eyes in the princess’.

“Get. Out,” Buffy repeated.

“This is what will come to transpire,” the princess smiled coldly. “There is no trust that cannot be broken.”

Buffy furrowed her brow, then turned her head to the side just as Spike’s vampire self grabbed her and sank his teeth deep into her jugular. She screamed, feeling how the draining slowly began and then how her fingers grasped the handle of her most well-known weapon. She grabbed it with quivering fingers, tightening her hold before she raised it. Tears glittered in her eyelashes as she brought it down hard, having it sink through his ribcage and straight into his still heart.

He pulled away with a start, staring at her, and then burst into ashes.

She woke with a sharp breath, sitting up and feeling the tears slip down her cheeks carefully. She closed her eyes, willing her heart to slow down and the numbness to fall away. She jerked when the phone suddenly rang, and then grabbed it.

“You okay?” his voice asked and she felt a sob rise in her throat, though she beat it back.

“Yeah. I feel like somebody crawled inside my skin and pretty much tried to tear it off, but that’s nothing new,” she stated and he felt the worry begin to gnaw at him.

“Buffy...”

“I’m okay,” she assured. “But are you...?”

“Yeah,” he cut her off softly. “Intact and still... un-breathe-y,” he added and she smiled a little. “I just... I would never...”

“I know,” she interrupted him. “Spike – I know,” she repeated. “And I couldn’t...”

“You’d have to...”

“Stop, don’t start by saying that you wouldn’t and then have it be like it would ever happen, ‘cause it’ll never happen. She’s wrong! I’m gonna kick her ass so hard it’ll reach her mouth and she’ll sink her greedy little teeth into it!”

He blinked, smiling slightly.

“Buffy...”

“God, I wish...” she trailed off, stopping herself and then wondering what damage the truth could possibly do.

“What?” he asked.

“I wish you were here,” she mumbled. “Everything ‘d be... I just wish you were here.”

He closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard of his bed.

At the lack of response Buffy felt her whole body begin to grow rigid. Had she just ruined something? Had she made the wrong decision? Was that too forward? But she could have just meant it as a friend! And...

“Are you there?” she asked silently.

“I’m here,” he murmured.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” she said and he blinked, wanting to say something fitting.

I love you... he thought. Buffy, I love you and I wish I was there too. Please, don’t... say goodbye. Not just yet.

“Okay...” he said meekly.

She swallowed, nodding a little.

“Bye,” she mumbled and as she brought the phone from her ear he said her name, making her bring it back to it. “Yes?” she said and he drew a small breath.

“Just...” he began, trailing off and feeling his nerve waver. “Just – do you think it worked? Think you shut her out?”

She fought back the disappointment, the hope of him saying something... more endearing being wiped out.

“We’ll see,” she answered him. “I thought I managed it last time, but...”

“Right,” he murmured. “Sleep tight,” he added and she smiled another small smile.

“You too,” she replied and then she hung up, lying on her side and putting her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold and abandoned.

Spike put the receiver in its cradle and shook his head at himself.

He could show her how he felt, he could kiss her, touch her... but he couldn’t spell it out, could he? Stupid bloody wanker.

¤¤¤

“What happened?”

“She found me and blocked me... I suppose I might have overlooked some parts of her strength, but it is of little consequence. In a way, it is even better.”

“Milady...”

“Yes, I know,” she sighed. “But as it is written, so shall it be.”

“Isaiah is yet to be apprehended. He escaped.”

She narrowed her eyes, then closed them.

“He is not far. He will try to see her again, I am sure of it. Send Theodore. He will deal with it.”

“Yes, milady.”

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

So I’m a little left of centre

I’m a little out of tune

Some say I’m paranormal

So I just bend their spoon

Who wants to be ordinary

In a crazy, mixed-up world

I don’t care what they’re saying

As long as I’m your girl

Hey, you are on my side

And they, they just roll their eyes

You get me

When nobody understands you come and take a chance

Baby, you get me

You look inside my wild, young mind

Never knowing what you’ll find

And still you want me all the time, yeah, you do

Yeah, you get me

-Michelle Branch, You Get Me-

¤

Lesson the Seventeenth

¤

Buffy put the bags filled with Christmas presents down beside her bed, stretching as she walked up to her closet and opened it up. She hesitated, then brought out the dress Willow had bought her, hanging it so that she could eye it admiringly. Running one hand down its soft lace she sighed.

“Beautiful.”

She spun around, her eyes widening when she met those of Isaiah. He gave a small nod where he stood by the window, then smiled a gentle smile. He was dressed as a nineteenth century gentleman, wearing a gray suit. His exterior gave off a handsome and calm impression, but his eyes were again what told the real story; in them rested the surprising expressions of soft curiosity and silent understanding, but unable to fully shed his nature there was also a cold and calculative gaze which now took in the being’s enemy as stillness filled the room.

“What do you want?” Buffy broke it.

“You fascinate me,” he stated. “Humans amuse me, but you... you fascinate me.”

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be soothed or alarmed by that,” she murmured.

“Perhaps a little bit of both,” he replied and she clenched her jaws together, prepared for anything.

“Can I ask you something?” she wondered and he seemed to wait for her to continue and so she took that as an affirmative. Pausing she then said: “Why did you drag us out into the middle of nowhere just to barge into our heads? Couldn’t you just as easily ‘ve done that with us here?”

“I wasn’t the one to drag you there,” he disagreed. “Joseph did when he told you that was where I was,” he added.

Buffy wanted to offer an objection, but realized he was right and so she kept her mouth shut, eyeing him in growing apprehension.

“Why are you here?” she asked and he slowly moved from the window to stand before her.

“There are things you don’t know...”

“I am so sick of this crap!” she exclaimed. “So tell me! Tell me the things!”

“That’s not how it is done,” he replied and she threw her hands out to the sides before crossing her arms over her chest. “I only know a few,” he then admitted and she raised her eyebrows. “I need to disappear... The princess is looking to bring me back home, and I do not desire it.”

“Please, don’t tell me you’re here for my help...”

He let out a short laugh.

“There is no help to be had here,” he shook his head.

She furrowed her brow.

“You have no idea what you’re up against,” he stated.

“I might say the same for you,” she retorted and the smile was back.

“Your fire is what drives you, what keeps you going, what creates belief and hope and even love – this great love you have for all that surround you, this great love which spurs you on to save this world time and again... It is an awe-striking thing, to watch... to feel... It’s like an aura around you,” he said, bringing one hand up and moving it an inch from her cheek.

She stared at him as he lowered it again.

“The one you wish to face has never felt anything like this love... Never. She covets and always receives what it is she wants, but there is nothing that she needs. Because of this – there is nothing that she fears.” He paused, holding her gaze. “Victory cannot be yours.”

“Is this another trick...?”

“I do not serve under her anymore,” he stopped her. “What I am telling you is being told because I have been observing you for some time, and see that you have everything to lose.”

Buffy smiled bitterly at that.

“Your observation skills could need a bit of polishing,” she then replied and he raised his eyebrows slightly, so she continued: “Didn’t you see that I’m not scared of giving it all up? My life is just another life in the long run. We’re all expandable.”

“You say those words so easily... They sound rehearsed,” Isaiah remarked. “Deep down you feel differently. Deep down you hate the death, the killing of innocents... the sacrifices...”

“It’s what keeps this world safe.”

“It won’t do so this time. Don’t enter the Hellmouth, there is nothing for you there but ashes and decay and if you step in it – you will bury yourself in it.”

“Why should I listen to you?” she asked disgustedly. “If I don’t stop her royal Biteness she’ll climb up through that very ashes and decay and she seems pretty set on spreading it here! I’m not one of those who bow down easily. It’s not how I was raised.”

Isaiah turned his head to the window, suddenly concentrated, and then began to back away from her. He fastened his gaze in hers and his voice was in her mind, his words echoing there long after he vanished.

’Sithir dorh mahkora sahahleth.’

¤¤¤

Eight days later Buffy put the last of her desired packing into the larger of the two suitcases splayed open on her bed.

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell anyone of Isaiah yet, not even Giles. She had decided to take what the Ancient had told her with a huge grain of salt, thinking that he could just as well be lying to her to keep her from entering his princess’ domains. But the Slayer would not be frightened away, and she refused to sow any further doubts among those she crucially needed with her in this fight.

At the thought, she smiled a little to herself.

The last conversation she had had with Spike had numbed her for a while, had made her certain that he didn’t feel what she felt. And then all the other moments they had shared made themselves obvious in her head and she thought she must be stupid if she would hang her entire future up on one time that he didn’t say what she needed to hear. Of course her self-confidence was like an earth-quake within her, destroying more than it helped build as it suddenly faltered and she was back in the train of thought which took her nowhere but to the fact that she was imagining everything that had occurred between her and the vamp, to then be back in full force as she recalled all the things he had ever said to her and telling herself that all that couldn’t have just been swept away.

Now she was soon to be in the close vicinity of him again, and just maybe she might finally get to know – and not just guess – what was going on in his head and heart. And just maybe she might get the chance to show him a little bit of what was stirring in her own.

She looked up as Giles knocked on the doorframe and he returned the smile she bore as he entered the room. She closed the first suitcase, locking it with two snaps and he stopped by the bed, looking on as she shut the second as well.

“Is this all you’re bringing?” he asked sarcastically and her smile turned to a smirk.

“Don’t complain,” she retorted. “I’ll carry them down myself.”

His smile widened before he removed his glasses, silently polishing them and she put her hands on her hips, questioningly.

“You’ve seemed rather wound up the past few days... Are you sure everything is alright?” he inquired.

“Well, in case you’ve failed to mark the dates off: we have somewhat of a fight...”

“Save it,” he interrupted and her tease dropped to the floor like a wet piece of cloth, her eyebrows rising. “You are going up against something... something I’ve never even heard of. Do you realize this?”

“How many of the monsters we’ve faced haven’t you had to research – really? Had you heard of Spike, before you read up on him? Glory...? Must I go on?”

He held up his hands to shush her and she sighed, sinking down on the edge of her bed and he came around to take the position of wise-man-looming-over-his-apprentice. Replacing his glasses he paused, unsure of how to proceed.

“Buffy, you don’t know what you’ll meet in the Hellmouth. You don’t know its size, its strength – you don’t even know if it in fact IS a dragon! Do you think it is very thought through of you to...?”

“I can’t think it through any more than I have,” she interrupted, rising. “I’d go insane, Giles. Combat. That’s where I need to connect the dots, that’s where I’ll be able to find a strategy. How the hell am I supposed to stop this if I don’t get out there? Books aren’t gonna solve this one...”

“And what of Isaiah’s warning?” he asked and she froze. He didn’t take notice as he continued: “He said that the answer lie through scripture, did he not?”

“’Did he not’,” she mimicked him with a smile. “Bringing out the big guns on this, huh?”

“Buffy,” Giles sighed and she grew serious again.

“I have to do this,” she said. “And you know it, or you wouldn’t be in here trying not to say goodbye,” she added and he glanced at her. “This isn’t it for me,” she stated. “I’ve gone through way too much for me to let it be,” she finished and he smiled, not convinced.

“There is another aspect that... Well, that I’m not very sure of,” he replied.

She watched him for a long moment, then said:

“Spike.”

“Yes,” Giles nodded. “He’s gaining in influence over you every time you see him, it seems.”

“’Gaining in influence’,” she huffed, shaking her head. “Do you have to say it like that?”

“How would you rather I said it?”

“You should be glad he’s going into this with me,” she exclaimed. “He’s a stronger warrior than even I am, and for better or worse he’s one of them, to some extent. If the Ancients surface...”

“I’m not talking of battle, for God’s sake, I’m talking of you. What you want and need and what you let completely blind you with no clear regard to anything around you. Frankly...”

“Frankly, I’m sick of this,” she stopped him. “How can you judge me, Giles? How can you stand there and say these things – to my face! – when you were there. When you saw what he meant to me. When you’ve seen what he still means...”

“Buffy...”

“I love him,” she stated and Giles’ eyes widened slightly.

“Oh, your mother would turn over in her grave...”

“How dare you?!” Buffy demanded, taking a step forward, but her Watcher’s eyes were blazing in the same manner hers was and before he could stop himself he answered:

“She was the one who saw to it that your damaging relationship with Angel ended, and to be honest, I always admired her for it.”

Buffy felt her heart sink, felt her thoughts churn to a crashing halt in her head, felt her breath catch.

“What?” she asked, voice weakened.

Giles stared at her, but knew there was no way he could take back what he had just said.

“She spoke to him... pointed out how he could never give you everything you needed... I believe she made him come to the understanding of how the happiness you should have in your life could not be given by him, no matter how much it was ultimately he who made the decision to leave.”

Buffy felt nauseous.

“No...” she shook her head, sitting back down on the bed. “She can’t have.”

“She was right,” Giles said. “You’re still young, I can see that. You’ve yet to see the wider scope of things. Spike is a charismatic being, but you cannot mean that you love him enough to sacrifice your future for...”

“Sacrifice,” she mumbled. “There’s that word again.” Her eyes were layered with tears as she looked up at him, continuing: “What have you ever had to sacrifice? Really? Jenny? No. That wasn’t your choice, was it? I could see how you loved her. And back then I was just a kid, right? Still... I saw it. I recognized it. It was exactly what I felt for Angel. Goofy happy whenever I was near him. Knowing he wanted to be near me. I thought I would be with him forever... I nearly sacrificed myself for him, remember? Gave him my blood in the blink of an eye, once that decision had to be made. And I thought my life was over when he chose to leave me. But it wasn’t. I thought I wouldn’t stop crying, ever. But I did. I moved on.

“Sacrifice... I sacrificed Angel despite of how much I loved him. I killed him. It’s still the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Jumping off that tower was a piece of cake compared to it. And then I came back and the darkest enemy, the most vile killer I’ve ever had to come in closer contact with... was the only being on this earth who seemed to understand me. I won’t say I loved him then. I couldn’t tell you when I began to truly love him. I didn’t even fully admit it until the moment I understood that I was about to lose him. I had been scared, you see. Because of how hurt I was when Angel left, of how sure I’d gotten of how I couldn’t function with that kind of love in my life... Loving something that wasn’t even human, that would live forever... God, how could that ever work out?” Her eyes had dried as she spoke, and now she arched an eyebrow slightly, her gaze not leaving the one’s before her for even a second.

“I may be younger than you,” she picked up, “but I believe I outweigh you when it comes to life-experience. I was forced to grow up in just six months, beginning to understand my calling and moving to Sunnydale. I’ve seen things you’ve only read, Giles, especially over the past year. As for ‘the wide scope of things’ – here’s my take on that: I’ll live or I’ll die defending a world that hasn’t an inkling that I exist, because in that world exist everything and everyone that I hold close to my heart.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I do know that if Spike even so much as hints at needing me in the way I need him – I’ll stand by him ‘till the day I can’t stand anymore. And then I’ll sit comfortably in my wheel-chair and have him stand by me instead. Because that is everything important when it comes to love. Being there for each other. I don’t care what form he’s in. His love is the greatest thing I have ever had in my pathetic life, and if you believe I’m crazy enough to let it pass me by one more time – then you need to open your eyes to the wide scope of things.”

He didn’t respond for a full minute, and finally she slowly stood once more.

“Please,” she murmured. “Don’t hate me for this.”

He blinked.

“My darling girl,” he said, stepping up to her and wrapping his arms around her. “I could never hate you,” he assured and she hugged him back, feeling the flooding relief of the gesture. “I am very proud of you,” he added as they let go, Buffy taking a step back to meet his eyes, and she looked quizzical at the sudden praise. “I know you’ve outgrown my teachings,” he said. “You did that... a very long time ago. But I hope you will always want my advice, no matter how you disagree with them.”

She smiled slightly.

“Promise,” she said. “As long as you let me disagree,” she added and he smiled back, hesitantly.

“You’ve never given me a face-to-face speech before,” he said as they walked to the door and proceeded to the stairs. “I’m actually quite overwhelmed.”

“Well... I’ve been thinking ‘bout it for a while.”

“Really? You prepare your speeches?”

“You’re not just the regular Joe, you know? Need to have some power to break through to you,” she stated and he smiled again.

“You did,” he said and she returned the smile. “And you are mature enough to know your own heart... I’m merely worried that in this instance...” She cocked an eyebrow. “You must understand how it seems from an outside view, Buffy. He’s not exactly the dream-boat image.”

“And who’s to say what my dream-boat image is? Have you any idea how alike we are? How we can talk about anything? How well he listens? How good advice HE gives? How he’s always on my side, offering support, encouragement...? How good a friend he’s always been to me, even though I never gave him any credit of any kind? He loved me unconditionally, Giles. Even Angel didn’t do that.”

They entered the kitchen where Dawn was leaned over the island, chewing on a sandwich and looking up as the two walked through the door. They barely seemed to notice her as they went on with the conversation; Giles walking up to the prepared teakettle, grabbing a cup and pouring water into it as he spoke.

“What if he changes with time?”

“I can safely say that everyone does. Besides... he might already have. I have no idea if he still feels that way about me.”

“Who? What?” Dawn fell in, not receiving an answer as Giles said:

“What bothers me the most about this is that very fact.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Buffy wondered.

“That your head is more filled up with thoughts of possible love-making to that undead fiend...”

“He’s not a ‘fiend’,” she said defiantly, Giles finishing his sentence unfazed with:

“...than it is with this upcoming battle.”

“Spike? Ten bucks that you’re talking about Spike!” Dawn said, Buffy ignoring her as she replied to Giles:

“That’s not fair.”

“Your dedication is outstanding, I’m not in any way attacking that...”

“Sounded like it to me,” Buffy muttered.

“...but I am afraid for you, you do understand that, don’t you?”

“Last year I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did if it hadn’t been for him,” she retorted. “He has never held me back, Giles. He’s always pushed me on! He’s a source of power, if anything. He lends me his strength. You once said we rely on each other, and that’s exactly how it is.”

“And if you have to give him up?”

She was about to answer, but the look in her eyes betrayed her and she could see it on Giles’ face, which made her look away, crossing her arms over her chest in defeat.

“I WOULD give him up,” she then said, gaze back in Giles. “If it came to that.”

He held her eyes for a few seconds, then gave a small nod, bringing the cup to his lips and stopping the movement as he realized he had forgotten to put in the teabag. As he retrieved one Buffy turned to her sister, who smiled.

“I can’t believe your head’s all filled up with ‘thoughts of possible love-making to that undead fiend’!” she giggled and Buffy’s eyebrows rose before she shot:

“Speaking of which, I heard something about you liking someone that most likely will be nothing but bad for you.”

Dawn’s eyes grew, the mocking falling away in an instant.

“Spike told you?!”

“No, Spike didn’t tell me anything. I...” trailing off she smiled. “I happened to snap the information up. Now, I don’t want you going after someone who’s mean to you. It’ll only end in heartbreak and tears.”

“Really?” the younger inquired, the sarcasm evident on her features and Buffy nodded firmly.

“Yes, very really,” she replied.

“Well, you don’t have to worry, ‘cause I don’t like that guy anymore.” Buffy gave her a meaningful look and Dawn smiled. “I think I might be falling in love with him,” she added, Buffy’s eyes widening as Dawn headed for the door. “He’s a dream-boat!” she giggled and Buffy looked at Giles who merely rolled his eyes, then she headed after her sister.

“You never tell me anything,” she complained and Dawn smirked.

“Right, and you always sit down and tell me everything about your love life, right?” she shot and Buffy stared at her.

“Are we talking ‘love life’ here?” she asked and Dawn smiled a bright smile at that.

“You tell me, I tell you,” she replied, running up the stairs with another giggle; her older sister close on her heels, not able to not smile as well.

¤¤¤

Five days later Buffy arrived in Los Angeles.

The airport was bustling with life, and after a long flight of sitting-and-doing-nothing she welcomed the change happily. It took forever for her to get hold of her bags, but finally both of them were in her possession and she headed for the gate. Coming through it the first thing she spotted was Spike’s bleached head and she felt like skipping from pure excitement. Instead she treated both vamps to a smile as she approached them.

“Was the trip okay?” Angel asked and she nodded, meeting his gaze and then turning hers in Spike’s.

It was weird that they hadn’t seen each other for weeks, because it felt like she’d stood before him like this just a day or so ago. He wasn’t out of her thoughts for more than a moment at a time, perhaps that added to the feeling. However, the memory of their last time actually together flickered before her eyes and she caught herself blushing under his gaze. Did it show how much she wanted him to offer to repeat that evening; with attached night; and following morning? How much she ached for just one more kiss. No, for every kiss he had to give for the rest of his non-ending existence. She wanted it all, and all of him, and...

“Buffy?” his voice broke through and she blinked, turning her head to where the two vampires now stood and realizing they must have started to walk with her standing put.

She smiled sheepishly.

“I hate flying,” she muttered and the two others mirrored her smile as she joined them and they headed for the exit.

Spike stole another glance at her and couldn’t hold back another small smile. He kept his hand from taking hers, though, and his arm from placing itself around her waist and pulling her close, and his nose to try and take in too deep breaths of her scent. But then they walked into each other and they both looked at the other with rather surprised and apologetic expressions. Spike smirked and she looked away again, though she was smiling as well.

Suddenly he thought he detected something else. It wasn’t related to the day, or to him... but under her eyes he thought he could see small signs of sleeplessness. Looking closer he had to admit that she did look tired. Maybe it was due to the day, anyway – and the traveling. But...

She now cleared her throat, self-consciously, and was relieved when Angel commenced talking, explaining the set-up for the coming few weeks until it was time for Christmas, and the Hellmouth.

They got in the car, stowing the Slayer’s luggage safely in the trunk. Angel was driving, Spike let Buffy take the front seat and slipped in the back. The sun was down, but Angel remarked how useful the car had been thus far. It had helped them when traveling, and when meeting with sources that refused to come out during the night.

She nodded, only listening half-heartedly as she could hear every movement Spike made. The slight intake of breath from him, the slowness with which he exhaled it. She wanted to crawl back there and into his lap, have him hold her and listen to her confess of how she had seen Isaiah... In reality she found it knee-weakening to bring herself to meet his gaze.

They arrived at Wolfram and Hart, parking the car in the garage and taking the elevator up to the floor which hosted the law firm, or what you will. Buffy was impressed by it, she had to admit. And Angel declared all the minor and major changes he, Spike and their crew had made to the place. She nodded, looking around and as often as she could turning so that she could take the back, the profile or in some breathless instances the gaze of Spike in. He smiled each time their eyes met, and she returned it, skillfully acting indifferent and as though she was merely observing the surroundings.

Or at least she hoped she was.

Perhaps she wasn’t. Trying not to glance his way, though, proved too large a task for her. And standing more than three feet away from him seemed excruciatingly difficult. She tried to reenact the bumping-in-to-him casually and accidentally, but it didn’t seem to fit and she was growing more and more vexed for each moment.

They reached the place of Angel’s office and she stopped in the doorway, leaning against the doorpost and raising her eyebrows.

“My, my, my,” she said, smirking as Angel walked inside and held his arms out in a what-do-you-think?

“I said it was a bit too much,” Spike’s voice suddenly sounded right next to her ear and she tensed immediately when she realized he was standing extremely close behind her. “Might come off wrong. You know what they say about men who try too hard,” he added and she smiled nervously, then swallowed and slowly turned her head to look at him.

Her nose nearly brushed his and his eyes seemed to widen just a little as he held her gaze. Then he pulled back slightly and smiled again. She returned it, still nervous.

“No,” she mumbled to his previous statement, “what do they say?”

“That they’re trying to make up for things... lacking,” he replied and his smile widened as Angel huffed from inside the room.

“You should see HIS office,” the dark-haired muttered. “If your office is a reflection of your personality – he doesn’t have one.”

Buffy smiled at that, her eyes still irreversibly locked with Spike’s and he blinked.

“Wanna see?” he wondered and she hesitated, then nodded. “Be right back,” he said to Angel and then headed down the hallway before the other could offer an objection.

Buffy walked at his side, unsure of what to say or what to do. It was a whole mess, this love business. It only complicated everything, didn’t it? To think that if it just hadn’t been there she could have had the best friend she had ever wanted, the strongest warrior she had ever faced and the most important ally she could ever need all rolled into one. But as it was now, that friend meant more to her than anything on the planet because in that friend rested all the things she had come to treasure in him; and that warrior was what made small tingling fires light themselves at every nerve-end whenever he was close to her because she knew that the thrill of him was right there; and that ally was what had gotten to her from the get go. To have him be forced to turn his world around and fight on her side, to then choose it above all the simplicity of his former life, in this lie the trust she now held for him. The base for her love and understanding of him.

“Here it is,” he said, opening the door and taking her into a smaller room than Angel’s, but it was tastefully decorated with dark wooden panels, high bookcases filled with volumes and a large desk stacked with papers.

“Angel was exaggerating – this is nice,” she replied, stepping through the doorway and walking up to the desk.

“Yeah, well,” Spike shrugged, following her and stopping a few feet behind her as she slipped her fingers over the cool wood of the biggest piece of furniture in the room, now before her. “Do you like it, then?” he asked and she smiled, turning around to face him.

“Yes,” she said and he smiled back. “It’s very you,” she commented and his smile turned into a smirk.

“Why, thank you,” he bowed his head a little and her smile broadened.

She kept her eyes in his a few more moments, then looked away for fear that she would simply hug him tight if she didn’t find anything else to do. The nearness she kept wishing for was something she simply had to restrain. She moved around the desk and up to one of the shelves, beginning to let her eyes glide over the titles.

Spike watched her for a short while. There was something he felt he needed to bring up, though he had no idea how to go about it. They had spoken on the phone as though nothing had happened the last time they were together, as though that kiss... but now, seeing her... he needed to clear the air. The heaviness of it was weighty on his shoulders, and he had to know... or at least begin to know...

“Buffy,” he said and she turned her head to him, quizzical.

At the look on his face her heart began to pick up its pace. How did he do that? It was as though there was nothing she could keep from him. Or it might be that there was nothing she WANTED to keep from him... She sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said and he blinked, questioningly.

“Why?” he asked, unable to beat back the disappointment and she looked away from him.

“I just wasn’t sure that you were ready... And I didn’t want you to worry about me...” she trailed off, suddenly concluding that he had meant to say something else. “What?” she therefore added and he raised his eyebrows, the lightness around his heart taking flight as he realized she was talking about something completely different.

“No, it... it wasn’t important. But...” he caught himself, remembering what he had observed earlier and understanding that the weariness hadn’t been from the flight after all. “What haven’t you told me?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, growing tentative.

“Isaiah stopped by,” she then admitted and Spike’s eyes grew with disbelief.

“Your house?”

“Technically it’s Giles’ house...”

“Slayer.”

She smiled tryingly, but didn’t receive anything for it this time.

“I’m sorry!” she repeated. “But I didn’t wanna freak you out. You and Angel together can be a pretty lethal combination on the protectiveness front and...”

“You get to care about us? Get to protect us to the point of bloody well trying to shut us out of this whole bleeding thing and we can’t...?” he trailed off, the upset countenance on him made her regret ever faltering in her knowledge of what she meant to them, and they to her, and why this was the only reason they would ever put up a fight against her risking her life if it could be helped. “What happened? What did he say?”

She swallowed. Here came the hard part.

“That I’m still too weak to face her... He said that... I can’t win.”

Spike felt his heart sink in his chest, staring into her eyes he could see a small plea to not flip out over these news, as well as the determination she held to go through with the plan no matter what. It made him incredibly angry with her for playing Russian roulette with her life this way, everyday; and it also made him remember exactly what it was about her that had made him fall for her in the first place.

“At least we know a few good spells to bring you back again,” he therefore merely quipped and the relieved expression in her gaze was the pay he needed.

Then she smiled a little.

“Yeah, seems it’s pretty hard staying dead, huh?” she asked and he returned the smile, rather tentatively as this was a subject they had steered well out of the way of for months. “Which is a good thing,” she added silently and her gaze warmed him with its growing softness.

“Isn’t this the most boring room you’ve ever seen?” Angel asked, walking through the doorway and stopping by the bookshelf closest to it. “Giles could live here!” he added and Spike smirked as Buffy did the same.

Angel turned his head to the two, cocking an eyebrow. It was a strange thought, the two of them actually together, but as he looked at them he had to amaze over the fact that they still weren’t. That they were just standing there. However, he refused to get into the middle of it – he wouldn’t meddle where meddling wasn’t needed – and so he merely said:

“Direct insult goes by unnoticed? Whatever were the two of you discussing before I came in?” Spike blinked, turning his head to his grandsire with a rather dark look and Angel smirked. “So THAT gets your attention?” he added, having Buffy look at him as well. “You’re staying at Spike’s place,” he added, signaling for them to follow and Buffy felt the pit of her stomach churn with the sudden outlook of Spike’s bed wall to wall with hers.

They were quiet in the car driving over to the tall apartment complex which hosted the vampire’s abode. As Angel drove into the cellar to park the car, Buffy looked at him, wondering.

“I’m in the same building,” he explained and she had to smile at that, looking back at Spike who raised one shoulder in a shrug.

“Wow, aren’t we the friendly neighbors,” she remarked and Angel smiled as well, helping her with her suitcases, though she was more than capable of carrying them herself.

“It’s out of necessity,” Angel replied. “My other apartment is being repaired and this was the only available place in the whole goddamn town.”

“I highly doubt that,” she smirked. “Hmh, Angel and Spike actually like each other. When’d that happen?”

“We do not,” both of them said in one voice and her smirk widened considerably.

Angel headed toward the elevator with a warning look for her not to take the teasing any further there and she was about to reach down and grab the smaller suitcase she had brought as a carry-on, but as she was about to grip the handle, Spike’s fingers brushed against hers as he had just done the same thing. Their eyes met as she turned her head to him, and then they both smiled rather self-consciously; Buffy straightening her back as Spike did so too, him holding the bag in one hand.

He walked ahead of her, and she drew a small breath in order to persuade the interrupted flow of her pulse to calm back into order. Her desire for that man was somewhat like a lightening bolt and she never really could be sure when it would strike next. Sometimes she looked at him and felt swarms of butterflies fluttering through her, sometimes she merely felt giddy and happy and like she was in love with the world and not only him, sometimes she felt fear of what it all meant and other times she felt lost and alone as she didn’t know his thoughts.

And then there were these flashes of moments when all she could feel was a deep, surging hunger for him. When nothing mattered to her apart from the need to be close to him, and she didn’t care what he felt apart from him wanting her as much as she did him.

She walked behind him in a daze, thinking of that empty apartment they were now supposed to share for a week... without anything happening? The mere insinuation of that being possible made her feel the need to smile. She remembered, with pointed clarity, the last night they spent together. In the same bed. In each other’s arms. And how had it ended? If Angel hadn’t walked in, there was no telling where that kiss would’ve taken them.

No, the intensity of their passion for one another had to be intact, or that moment between them wouldn’t have been permitted to occur, by either of them.

But I love him... she thought sadly. How can I let him close if it’s just to break my heart?

A swift wind of melancholy chased away the lingering yearning for him and as they entered the elevator she couldn’t look at him for fear of this sudden sorrow showing too clearly in her gaze. Angel handed her the suitcases as they reached his floor, located two stories below Spike’s, and then he gave her a kiss on the cheek before exiting. The doors slid closed and Buffy thought she should say something, but as she was about to the doors again slid open and they continued through them, Spike leading the way up to his front door. He took out a set of keys and as his used fingers found the right one Buffy observed him with a sudden slight smile on. It looked like such a normal thing to do – fumbling a little with the key before slipping it in the lock, turning it and pushing the door open. As he turned his eyes in hers her smile merely warmed.

He blinked at the sight of it, then returned it as he bid her to step through the door. She did, walking passed him in the doorway and he watched her proceed inside, following and closing the door behind them. She put her suitcases down and he placed the one he had been carrying next to them, then looked on keenly as she allowed herself to take in the apartment.

It was large with wooden floors, a lot of dark wood in the furniture and heavy burgundy, green, dark blue and sand in the fabrics. The walls were painted in different colors for different rooms, or so she could tell by the open doors which surrounded her where she stood in the openness of the living room.

She smiled a little at his good taste and then turned around to face him.

“I’m impressed,” she said and he smirked – pleased. “And... it’s big,” she added, turning around and walking into the living room. “How can you afford this?”

“I’m a pay-check away from staking myself, swear to God,” he muttered and she laughed.

“But this...” she trailed off, still not sure of what to make of the unbelievable place. “It’s great,” she finally stated. “It’s really great. I could easily see myself living here,” she added, stopping before one of the windows and admiring the view.

Spike tilted his head slightly to one side, then approached where she was standing.

“You are,” he said, stopping beside her and she raised her eyebrows, looking up at him. “Living here,” he added and she smiled a small smile.

“Yeah, but I meant as in permanently,” she replied and at this he cocked an eyebrow, a familiar twinkle in the corner of his eye and her smile widened. “As in – what you’re doing. For you! I meant this is a good place for YOU,” she then clarified and he merely smirked.

“Thought you liked L.A.,” he pointed out and she smiled.

“No, the crime-rate scares me,” she shot and he chuckled, holding her gaze and feeling as though either he should pull her close, or he had to do something else to break the moment because it was crushingly heavy to be stuck in her eyes like this.

“You hungry?” he asked and she nodded.

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

How do I get through a night without you

If I had to live without you

What kind of life would that be

Oh, I need you in my life, need you to hold

You’re my world, my heart, my soul

If you ever leave

Oh, baby, you would take away

everything good in my life

And tell me now

How do I live without you

I want to know

How do I breathe without you

If you ever go

How do I ever, ever survive

Oh, how do I live

-Leanne Rimes, How Do I Live Without You-

¤

Lesson the Eighteenth

¤

“This was good,” she sighed as she put the Chinese take-out box down on the coffee table of the living room. “You should’ve let me pay for it, you didn’t have one bite!” she added with a small pout and he smiled.

“My treat,” he disarmed her, grabbing the boxes as he stood and taking them with him to the kitchen.

She rose as well, following him. She kept delicately touching his things as she passed them. Thinking that he had chosen this spot as his home, he had bought the furniture and he had selected the artwork on the walls. This was the place where he rested and relaxed, where he prepared for whatever battle was on the day’s agenda and where he trained to be ready for the dangers of it. Everywhere she went she felt she discovered another piece of him. Being there was like getting to know him on a whole new level, and she enjoyed every aspect of it.

His library was stocked with Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, Hemingway and all the classics as well as Stephen King and Anne Rice and numerous authors she had never heard of. When she had asked him if he’d read them all he had merely smiled and selected a book for her to read. It was an old edition of Winnie the Pooh and she had given him a look which had simply widened his smile as he had said “Something innocent, to help you sleep.”

Something in that short sentence had made her feel the need to never leave the apartment, ever. As though the world could come crumbling down, and yet she would be safe in there.

Now the kitchen opened up before her with all its tattling and she looked at the homely colors, the dark wood – which was part of the décor in every room – of the cupboards and the heavy dark stone of the counters. He seemed to embrace all the aspects of himself as he had so much tying back to the old in the furniture design, and still so much tying back to the new in the colors and interior. She COULD see herself living there, but wouldn’t confess that to him other than in his bed with his mouth just having said that he loved her still.

She leaned on her elbows against the counter, watching him do away with the boxes and then turn to face her.

“Wanna see where you’re gonna sleep?” he asked and she wished she could’ve interpreted just a tiny bit of insinuation for her last thought to be about to come true, but he was calm and controlled and there was no sign of the glint she would have expected to be there.

She nodded to his question and followed him when he walked out of the kitchen again. They headed for the hallway leading to the library on the right and the dining room on the left. Ahead was a door taking them into a smaller hall and Buffy was about to walk up to the door to the right when Spike stopped her by saying:

“No, that’s my room.”

She cocked an eyebrow, then smirked with a defiant glitter in her gaze before she proceeded up to the door and pushed it to slide open. It was another large room, painted in a deep green color. Against the left wall stood a king-sized, four-poster bed, made out of the same dark wood that she recognized from every other room of the apartment. She stared at it, then decided that was enough and turned back around, almost walking into him as he had stopped a mere feet behind her.

She gasped in slight surprise, then smiled brightly at herself and he did the same.

“Sorry,” he said and she shook her head.

“It looks comfortable,” she then remarked with a slight nod into the other room and he suddenly observed her with one of the probing gazes that always, always seemed to see straight into her. “My room?” she therefore said with her eyes out of his and on the only other door in the hall.

He nodded and she walked up to it, proceeding through it and stopping when she entered a guestroom nearly the size of his.

“Wow,” she breathed at the view she could see through the large windows opposite the bed, where the twinkling lights of Los Angeles stretched their fingers to the sky.

“Approved?” he asked.

She looked around the room, then at him and he smiled.

“Now this is what I call ‘posh’,” she stated and his smile broadened.

“And I assure you, that,” he nodded to the bed, “is every bit as comfy as mine.”

She smiled at that remark, then walked up and threw herself across the implicated furniture. He might have been right, but she still doubted that anything would ever be comfortable without him in it. She shook her head at herself and tried for the millionth time to simply push the thoughts and feelings aside. It might be that she was able to for short instances when away from him, but in the same room as him – heck, in the same building as him – it wasn’t possible.

She had to deduce that the coming week was going to be nothing short of torture.

Sitting up she met his gaze where he stood in the doorway and she felt a small apprehension twirl near her heart that it was all for nothing. She wondered how much longer she could go on like this. Maybe she should just talk with him about it? It was driving her insane not knowing what he was thinking, how he felt. There were subtle hints, but the second they had been there she began questioning if she had perceived them right.

“Bullocks,” he suddenly grumbled, turning and leaving the doorway.

She furrowed her brow, rising and hurrying after him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as he entered the living room, her not late to follow.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong?” he wondered irritably, though she got the sense that it was directed at himself and not in any way at her. “Bleeding marathon’s on and I’ve managed to forget it.”

She frowned again as he reached for the remote for the TV and turned it on. He splayed himself on the couch as the picture took form on the screen and Buffy’s face split in a grin. Then she groaned.

“Don’t tell me you mean ‘marathon’ as in this being on...”

“The whole blooming night,” he confirmed. “But you don’t have to watch it!” he added reassuringly and she crossed her arms over her chest as he directed his gaze at the early episode of one of his favorite soaps – Passions.

Buffy grumbled, sinking down into an armchair and glaring at the TV-set. However, her detest was nothing but a smokescreen. The thought of spending countless hours with him instead of them separated in two boring rooms with her struggling to get some sleep was far more exhilarating than her dislike for the show could ever suppress.

So, she thought, looking over at him and having a slight smile on once more, I guess the answers ’ll simply have to wait.

¤¤¤

“Yes?”

The young vampire standing before her bowed with great respect, and then delivered his message:

“Isaiah slipped through Theodore’s fingers, I am regretful to inform you, your highness.”

She smiled without feeling, waving for him to go away as she sat back. She clicked her nails against the armrest impatiently and then feigned a sigh as she waited. Soon enough a door to her left opened and she had another smile on her mouth as she said:

“Kill that runaway once and for all, and tell Theo to get back here before sundown or I’ll label him an outlaw as well.”

There was no reply as the door quietly slipped shut.

¤¤¤

“As you can see there’s not that much difference between this part of the world, and others,” Angel said as he held the door open for Buffy.

“You forget this is where I first put on the cape of the Slayer,” she remarked and he smiled.

It was the following evening, and they had just rounded up a guided tour of all the hang-outs and pubs that Angel used when scouting for information. They had also met with three of his most reliable sources who had – all be it suspiciously – agreed to the presence of the Slayer.

Buffy had seen it fit to calmly tell Angel what she had told Spike of Isaiah and his foreboding speech. Angel had reacted as she had expected, his eyes darkening, jaws tightening... He had grown quieter after that, and she had sensed his dislike with her stubbornness, but then the bad mood had cautiously lifted – in part thanks to her being so apposed to it staying there.

Now, the two were back at Wolfram and Hart and as they stepped into the vampire’s office Buffy’s eyes met Cordelia’s.

They both stared at each other, then they smiled.

“Oh, my God, Buffy!” Cordelia said, coming around the desk and approaching the blonde.

They embraced and as they pulled back Buffy couldn’t believe how much older the other looked. She knew of the things Cordelia had been through, but to stand face to face with her was almost surreal. Like a part out of her past had just decided to leap out and give her a hug.

“Hey, Cordy,” Buffy smiled.

“Long time, no see,” the dark-haired stated.

“As the saying goes,” Buffy nodded. “Crazy to think what’s happened since we saw each other last, huh?”

“I’ll say! It’s pretty amazing to think it. You’ve been dead, Spike’s been dead, I’ve been dead...”

“Yeah, Willow never really told me what happened that brought you...”

“That’s ‘cause it’s so classified I don’t even think God is allowed to read the debriefing Himself,” Cordelia interrupted. “It’s getting ridiculous, though. I swear, the next time I’m buried I intend to stay that way. Unless I go somewhere unpleasant which will mean I’ll have to come back and haunt you guys so you get me out of there. But, if I’m somewhere like last time, then leave me be.”

“Ah, yes, it was one of those bring-backs,” Buffy nodded and Cordelia gave her a small smile. “How’s it working out for you?”

“Oh, you know, some days are worse than others.”

“Oh,” Buffy nodded, “I do know.”

“I’m happy to be back, though, for whatever purpose...” Cordelia added, turning her eyes on Angel. “And you were supposed to call me before you left. I suppose you had better things to do,” she added with an eyebrow cocked and he mirrored the expression before smiling.

“Is this jealousy I’m seeing? ‘Cause you were supposed to point it out, remember?” he shot and Cordelia huffed, then smiled reluctantly, Buffy not following the friendly banter, but not really feeling it was needed of her.

“Shut up,” Cordelia grumbled, turning her eyes back on Buffy. “Spike said to send you to his office whenever you’re ready. Camelia’s here.”

Buffy felt herself stiffen for no real reason. She had no idea why, but the mere mention of that name made her... stiff. She gave Cordelia another smile and then left the room, heading for the smaller office and whoever was there. She knocked and when she was met by the distinct sound of female laughter she didn’t wait for a reply, but opened the door and proceeded inside.

Spike was standing, leaned against one side of the desk with his arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face. A young woman was facing him, her ash blonde hair framing a pretty face and her eyes shining with how much she obviously enjoyed the company she was in. Her gaze turned on Buffy as the latter entered the room, as did Spike’s.

“You’re back!” he said and the Slayer smiled dryly.

“Surprise,” she replied, eyes going to Camelia’s, who were looking from one to the next before she chose to move toward the other woman, extending a hand.

“Camelia,” she said. “You must be the legendary Buffy.”

For a few seconds Buffy was appeased by the flattery, walking up and taking the other’s hand.

“Hardly ‘legendary’,” she shook her head and Camelia’s smile widened as they let go, her eyes going to Spike and Buffy felt like stepping between them. “But, yeah,” she then added to her previous decline, “I’m her.”

Camelia nodded.

“I’ve heard a bunch about you,” she stated. “I’ve heard everything about the Glory defeat – that was really something,” she added and Buffy blinked, turning her head to Spike, who shook his. “Oh, no,” Camelia smiled, “it wasn’t from him. The stories of you meet-and-greet a slayer no matter where she goes these days,” she finished, no jealousy or aggravation whatsoever in her voice. “It’s an honor.”

Buffy swallowed. She didn’t want to like this girl. This girl who was nearly four years older than her. Then again, when looking at slayage Buffy was this girl’s senior by six years so perhaps it panned out.

“Well...” Buffy murmured, smiling a little more friendly. “Don’t say that – I’ll be all embarrassed.”

Camelia laughed and as Angel and Cordelia entered the room they all had a seat each in the group of furniture standing arranged in front of the desk. Camelia sat in the middle of the sofa with Spike on one side and a rather disturbed-by-this Buffy on the other. The two dark-haired sat in an armchair each opposite the three blondes and then the discussion was started of when, where and how.

The dragon was, if everything had been calculated correctly, waking on Christmas day and so they needed to have everything ready until then. A full-blown attack seemed wisest since they were up against something powerful, but they also needed to pay heed to caution as they entered the lair.

“I’ve had scouts out the past few nights,” Camelia stated, bringing out a map from her bag and spreading it on the table; it showing the crater of the Hellmouth. “They’ve combed these three areas and say it seems to be all clear.”

“We need to KNOW that it is,” Buffy said and had the other slayer’s gaze in hers before the latter replied:

“We will.” She then continued: “We have almost seven days to make it work, and I’m confident it’s going to. Gin – one of the best fighters we have – said that she’s seen twelve cave-mouths, but that’s about it. If it isn’t in any of those, we’ll have to... dig?”

Buffy nodded slowly.

“It will be in one of those,” she said. “Just make sure there aren’t any more of them.”

Camelia shared a brief look with Spike and Buffy felt a hand of stone clasp her heart as she wondered what it was all about.

“We’re pretty sure,” Camelia then replied. “But we’ll be scouting the areas still left, as well as the old ones, until it’s time to hit, don’t you worry.”

Buffy gave another nod, glancing at Spike who had leaned forward and was looking at the map.

“I’m not worried,” she then stated. “I just want to make absolutely sure that all the possibilities have been covered.”

“As do I,” Camelia retorted. “I’m very thorough and very good at what I do. I think I might even measure up to you, if it comes to that.”

Buffy smiled an almost bitter smile.

“Pray that it doesn’t,” she said and there was a flicker of wondering in the other’s gaze, but then it disappeared as though she had put two and two together from all the “stories” she had heard.

“I guess this covers it,” Angel broke through the slight tension still resting in the air and Camelia turned her head to him.

“Guess so,” she agreed, rising to her feet.

She collected the map as Spike and Buffy rose as well. Putting it back in the bag she met Spike’s eyes, saying:

“I’ll see you this Saturday. Don’t forget.”

He smiled, shaking his head and she gave him a quick hug – giving Angel and Cordelia one each as well – before grabbing Buffy’s hand in another firm shake. As she walked out of the room Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. Angel and Cordelia got to their feet, saying they both needed to make some calls and leaving the room as well. Buffy was still looking at the doorway and Spike observed her back for a minute before he said:

“So?”

“What the hell is ‘scouting’?” she asked. “When do we ‘scout’?” she added, turning her head to look at him and he forced the smile back down as she looked very serious. “Do we sell cookies too?” the sarcasm then poured into the context and he cocked an eyebrow when she continued with: “You know, being the ‘original’ slayer, and a legend at that, I believe I have a right to know these things. I think we should shape them as little strawberry vampires and honey demons, perhaps throw in a few kittens as well, just to show what the currency and food usually consists of. Make it happy family fun for everyone so that the world isn’t so shocked the next time a so-called ‘alien’ lands in their backyard!”

“Are you upset?” he asked and she gave him a look before she replied:

“Why the hell would I be upset? We’re becoming a wholesome frickin’ destiny-bound business!”

“They’re not selling cookies,” he remarked.

“Oh, right, because you would know that,” she muttered and at that his eyebrows rose high.

“If you’ve got something to say...”

“What was that look all about? Have you been...?” she trailed off, not even sure what she wanted to have said. “I saw it,” she merely finished glumly and he smiled a little.

“It wasn’t anything. I’d warned her of your bossy-bitchy-Slayer side and told her not to take it personally ‘cause that’s just the way you are when dealing with the whole bleeding thing... You don’t like... not being included in every single detail, yeah?” She looked away from him, sort of liking how annoyed she was with him and not willing to be soothed so easily. “I guess she just picked up on that,” he said and Buffy huffed.

“Right, and had to point it out to you. ‘Ah, I see. This is her being bossy-bitchy-Slayer’,” she muttered.

He smirked.

“Well, you weren’t so bitchy this time,” he said and she had a smile be born despite of herself.

“Sometimes I hate you,” she grumbled and his smirk widened.

“Nah, you love me,” he teased and she felt her heart skip a beat.

The smile still on her mouth didn’t disguise the expression in her eyes, and he suddenly picked up on it as though it was hitting him over the head over and over. His smirk faded slightly and he wanted to open his mouth and ask her why she...

“Let’s go,” she said. “Passions start in half an hour. Pop-corn, couch, me – can it get any better?”

She arched an eyebrow before turning and heading out the door, and he stared after her before getting himself moving in her wake.

No, he thought to himself. Not that much better.

¤¤¤

“Don’t do that!” Buffy exclaimed at the TV. “My Lord, does she have no brain?!”

Spike smirked, tossing a pop-corn at her where she sat in the armchair to his right. He was lying with his head on the couch’s left armrest and now she turned hers to him, waving at the screen.

“You have to agree she’s such a nutcase it’s unbelievable!” she said and he nodded, seriously, which made her smile.

She picked up the pop-corn he’d thrown and put it in her mouth, chewing contently as she looked at what more was unfolding on the show. It was the most twisted thing she had ever seen, but it was fun mocking them. Partially because the characters most definitively deserved it, partially because after a while it ticked Spike off. He was invested in the soap; he had watched it since it aired back in God-knows-when.

“See!” she said as the girl picked up a knife and headed for the kitchen where her ‘victim’ was waiting for dessert. “Nutcase!”

“If you don’t stop poking fun,” he said, once more smirking and she smiled again.

“It’s the easiest way for me to get some pop-corn,” she replied innocently and he rose; coming up to her and setting the bowl in her lap.

She pouted slightly.

“Well, now you’re just taking all the nice out of it,” she muttered and he laughed softly, placing himself back on his previous spot and turning his eyes on the telly. “Can’t we watch a movie? One of those Tom Cruise ones?” she moaned. “I know! Interview With a Vampire! Please? Or...”

He got to his feet again, walked over and grabbed the bowl from her. Taking it with him as he once more lay down on the couch and she smiled widely.

“Oh, deary me, what IS she doing now!” she yelped with a glance at the TV and when her eyes were back on him they met his, the shadow of a smile on his mouth.

¤¤¤

In actuality it hadn’t been that hard to live with him. They worked pretty well together. They got up at the same time, had breakfast – or dinner, since it was around six – got ready and then left for Wolfram and Hart, from where they usually phoned Giles and Willow and talked things over, as well as they did with Camelia and her crew. They looked at countless recordings of dragons and mythical creatures resembling them, but there was not really anything new for Buffy to learn since she had done so much research a few months ago on the topic.

Buffy hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Spike about why he was going to see Camelia on the upcoming Saturday. Was it a date? Business? Both?

The past two nights which the Slayer had spent with him had appeased her. Not on the knowing front – but on the feeling front. HE appeased her and thus she was appeased. He relaxed her, made her feel good. It was the best time she had had in a very long time, and she wished the days would slow so that she really wouldn’t have to leave the apartment. Not just yet.

He was funny in a way she wondered if she’d never noticed, or always known was there. She knew that he could make her smile at the toughest of times. But now he made her laugh in a way she hadn’t laughed since... She couldn’t remember. He made her feel safe and comfortable, and perhaps the latter was what had been lacking before. The safe part, though, she knew he had always done. In some way, shape or form he had been the harbor in which she inevitably came to seek refuge.

Spike delighted in her manner. He had never seen her like this. It had never been this easy to make her smile, make her laugh. She was so relaxed it almost frightened him into thinking something might be wrong with her. Some spell that had been cast to make her forget about the pending war, the looming Big Bad and the battle she still had to undertake. But then she just was. She just was there, clinking her coffee mug against his in the morning. Plucking a stray thread off his T or putting a hand loosely on his shoulder when she stretched to reach a glass on the upper shelf of the cupboard.

She just was there with him watching TV or reading. He had smiled when she very soberly sat down one night ago with the Winnie the Pooh he had handed her, seeing that she had already read five or so chapters. She hadn’t said anything, but he had thought he detected the hint of a smile on her mouth as they continued reading. He knew he had to tell her how he felt. He wouldn’t be able to go on like this. But the calm serenity of her presence made him feel less in need to do anything that might uproot it. And he loved her company, afraid that telling her might scare her away.

On the Friday Angel called to tell the others that he and Cordelia were playing hookie for the evening, and so they were free to do as they pleased.

“Finally taking her out, then, mate?” Spike asked with a smirk.

“It’s dinner,” Angel replied dryly. “A friendly dinner.”

“Well, that should sit better with the lady than one that jumps up and bites her on the nose, eh?” the other teased and Angel muttered something before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Buffy walked into the kitchen, wearing a robe open over her nightgown and Spike leaned back against the counter behind him as she passed him. He took in her tanned legs so distractedly that he almost didn’t notice her turning her head to him, but he snapped his eyes into hers just in time and she smiled.

“Good evening,” she said and he returned the smile.

“Evening,” he gave a nod. “Sleep well?”

“Mh,” she shrugged, opening the fridge. “Still adjusting.”

“Nightmares?” he asked and she turned to him, giving him a sunnier smile as she shook her head.

“No,” she then answered and he smiled back. “None of those... Hey, is there...?” she began, only he had just grabbed a cup and was pouring her some coffee. She closed the fridge and walked up to him, grateful expression on. “Oh, you’re such a lifesaver,” she mumbled, bringing the cup to her lips and taking a mouthful of the liquid.

“Careful...” he said and she smirked, swallowing.

“Some like it hot,” she replied and he chuckled, following her into the living room where she sunk down on the couch. He stood beside it. “Can we be a little late?” she asked. “I’d like to take a shower.”

He was about to put in a witty comment, but dropped the thought and merely smiled a little before he said:

“Angel called. Said he’s going out with Cordy and that the playing field is just ours for the night. So... what do you wanna do?”

Buffy looked up at him, then smiled widely.

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

Cutting through the darkest night are my two headlights

Trying to keep it clear, but I’m losing it here, to the twilight

There’s a dead end to my left, there’s a burning bush to my right

You aren’t in sight, you aren’t in sight

Do you want me, like I want you

Or am I standing still

Neath the darkened sky

Or am I standing still

With the scenery flying by

Or am I standing still

Out of the corner of my eye

Was that you

That passed me by

Do you love me, like I love you

Or am I standing still

-Jewel, Standing Still-

¤

Lesson the Nineteenth

¤

She exited her bedroom half an hour later, showered and dressed in snug leather pants, a white shirt and her leather coat over one arm. He had to stare, there was nothing else for him to do, and he became painfully aware of every single movement she made, how they rippled the air gently, how they made her locks softly move over her shoulders and how she affected every single cell of his being until he had to take an involuntary breath just so that he could muster the power to break his gaze from her form.

“Let’s go,” she said, passing him and her scent circled him, making him feel light headed.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked, following her to the front door.

“Absofrickinlutely,” she replied with a smile, grabbing the prepared picnic basket on the hall table and opening the door, proceeding through it.

He closed it behind them, locked it and walked up to where she was waiting for the elevator.

Buffy kept her heart calm, though it threatened to race every time he got close. She kept her hands loosely clasped in front of her, grasping the basket’s handles, to keep the arm closest to him from reaching out and slipping her fingers down the leather of his duster. She was still unsure of whether she wanted things to get out of hand, or whether she preferred them quietly resting just beneath the surface, as they had been ever since their eyes first met in Paris. Her mind kept changing itself on her every few seconds, but one underlying thought still remained – if he kissed her again, there would be no time to even bid her freedom of choice farewell, because it would be gone and she wouldn’t be able to stop herself...

She jerked as the doors of the elevator slipped open, so lost in her own head that she had nearly forgotten where she was. But then he stepped forward and she drew an unnoticeable, shaky breath before walking after him.

The garage was chilled, dark and dank. They walked in silence until they reached the place where his baby was parked and Buffy smiled at the beauty of it.

“She’s perfect,” she nodded, walking up to the motorcycle and admiring it openly, squatting down and running her hand along the lines of the black leather of the seats, looking at the details of the contraption.

Spike watched her in the stillness, hearing the slow beat of her heart, but sensing a tension on her that he couldn’t label. When she straightened her posture and elegantly swung one leg over the seat, sinking down a little to make herself more comfortable, he was just about ready to call the whole thing off. What in the world was he thinking, agreeing to this excursion? It was lunacy on his part! But then he had to smile. All he wanted was to be near her. He didn’t trust his own instincts even in the slightest when it came to her and how she acted around him, and he wasn’t positive that he knew how to trust her way of being so ultimately relaxed still, in everything they did together.

What he did know was that this evening might be the last one they shared together in a very long time.

He walked up to where she was sitting, stopping by the side of the bike and looking down at her. She met his gaze, slight smile on, and then she pushed herself back to make room for him in the driver spot. He rested his eyes in hers a moment longer, then smiled as well, taking his seat and starting the bike with a roar. Her arms went around him in such a slow manner he could have sworn she was dragging it out intentionally, and then her chest fitted itself against his back.

He gave the gas another tug, and they were off.

The air was cold as they drove through the city, headed for the hills beyond it, but Buffy didn’t even notice. She focused on keeping her hands from running unhurriedly up and down his chest, as they itched to do every time the bike made a turn and his upper-body moved with it. She could feel the muscles of his stomach beneath her fingers, and there was a soft ache in her pulse as she thought of a shadowed grove somewhere near the sea with just him and her, all alone...

The worst thing was that there was the weakness factor to take into consideration. If he did want her as she wanted him, if he did love her... how would that affect them going into the Hellmouth? She didn’t want to admit to Giles being right, but despite that this thought had become increasingly bothersome since she came to Los Angeles, and she couldn’t discard it. If they went in there as lovers, what would that do? Would it be used by them only as a further strength, or would it be used against them by their enemies? The nightmares of him killing her, of her killing him, had spooked her, no matter how she had tried to tell herself they hadn’t. She refused to give into threats, but she had to acknowledge the fact that she in no way could be sure that that was all there was.

After Isaiah’s visit she had gotten even more to think about.

If she was to die... again... would Spike serve as the push she needed, or would he be the one thing that truly held her back. She didn’t want to lose him, or anyone else, and the thought of leaving him was almost as scratching as the thought of having to let him go again. So, should she want him with her? And even more pressing: should she want him with her as merely her friend, her warrior, and her ally?

Perhaps the sad truth of the equation was that their timing had never been right. Perhaps they simply weren’t meant to be.

She closed her eyes at the thought.

Spike felt her growing more and more rigid and he could detect the sudden hardness of her heart beat. She was fretting over something, and it wasn’t the speed with which he was driving.

“You okay?” he called over his shoulder and she looked up, took in his profile and felt all the doubts slowly lift; leaving only the warmth she felt for him, this love that seemed to have imbedded itself into her.

Tears rose in her eyes, both from exhaustion of the battle going on inside her between what was right or what was wrong, and also from the sudden thought of him disappearing out of her life once more.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she called back, grabbing onto him a little tighter and leaning her cheek against his back as she closed her eyes and willed the tears back. “I’ll be fine,” she mumbled.

¤¤¤

She laughed, shaking her head at him and then looking out on the incredible view spreading itself before them. The ocean, dark blue and fierce as it rolled against the cliffs ninety or so feet below them. And the sky, spangled with stars that twinkled in peaceful harmony and complete contrast to the waters they overlooked.

The Slayer and the Vamp were placed on a blanket, the now emptied plates and plastic boxes between them and a bottle of wine opened, standing in the grass by their heads after having been poured into glasses. Buffy took another mouthful of the sweet liquid, then turned her eyes in his again.

“So tell me,” she mumbled and he looked quizzical. “Everything,” she added. “Tell me when and how you came back, and why and who done it,” she smirked and he chuckled.

“You really wanna know?” he asked.

She nodded. He thought for a moment, then began to speak. Telling of how he had come back as a freakish ghost, following Angel around – a detail which had Buffy laugh so hard she nearly choked, what had then brought him back into his vampiric form and all the little stories in between, to which Buffy listened attentively. When he finished she raised her eyebrows.

“That’s quite a tale,” she admonished and he gave a small shrug.

“And you?” he asked. “I mean, I’ve heard you’ve traveled some and all that, but...”

“There’s not much to tell,” she said. “We left for England pretty much right after...” trailing off she rested her gaze in his again, and he smiled a small smile. She continued: “Lived in Rome for a while too... But... I don’t know. I guess in a way at first I thought I’d be able to... have a life. A real life. Try it out for a while, see how it fitted. Then I realized that I already had the only life I could ever want... Being the Slayer is just... more. I complained, yeah, but in the end that part of you takes over. I can’t walk down a street at night without partially being on patrol. I could never just leave that behind, you know?” He nodded slowly. “Sure, it’d be nice with kids and a family and someone who loves me. And a car and a cat and a house with a white picket fence,” she sighed, making him smile a little again.

“You – drive?” he asked and she gave him a look, then smacked him on the arm.

“Maybe HE would,” she retorted and he cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, pardon me,” he apologized and she smirked.

“It’s just... I guess that reality never was for me. I can see Dawn with kids and grandkids and everything. And I can see me being the fun auntie Buffy who baby-sits now and then... But it feels out of reach for me.”

He tilted his head slightly to one side, having to admit he was just a bit surprised.

“Why?” he asked.

She smiled, not looking at him and fidgeting with the two rings placed on either of her index fingers as she searched for a good answer that wasn’t the complete truth, and that wasn’t a complete lie either.

“I’m not even sure I want it,” she mumbled. “Maybe...” she smiled suddenly, a hint of tease in her gaze as she turned it in his. “Maybe I’m supposed to live fifteen stories up with an amazing view,” she finished and he smirked.

“You really think that’d be enough?” he wondered. “An empty apartment? No children? No family? No white picket fence?”

“Well, I think... I KNOW that if I just have someone... you know... that loves me, that’d be enough,” she nearly stuttered, then sat up, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them as she fastened her eyes on the barely marked horizon in the distance.

Spike looked at her back for a few minutes of gentle silence, and then he sat up as well.

“How about you?” she asked.

“What about me?” he asked back.

“Well, there has to be someone,” she murmured. “Camelia, perhaps? Don’t you have a date or whatever tomorrow?”

He smiled.

“No, not at all,” he then replied.

He had seen Buffy’s lack of interest in the meeting he had with the other woman as an ominous sign, but the Slayer bringing it up made him feel soft fingers of well-being pull themselves down his spine.

Buffy felt something not far from it as her fears were proven in vain.

“I’m going out to the Dandy-branch’s headquarters. Something Angel and I do a few times a month to check up on things and hear news and such... You’re welcome to come with me, of course. See how Camelia operates,” he added to his previous answer and Buffy gave a small shrug of indifference.

“Might be fun,” she said, though she was jubilant within. “Probably nothing new, but...”

“The cookie factory is rather nifty,” he stated and she finally smiled brightly, turning her eyes in his.

“I’ll be looking forward,” she assured and he mirrored her smile easily.

Their gazes got caught in the others and Buffy felt the moment stretch until it seemed to be the only thing the world consisted of. That moment, and the way he looked at her, knew her, felt her...

“And you, and love?” he asked, voice so low she could barely make it out.

She lost the control she had had all evening over her heart and the muscle began pumping as if making up for wasted time.

“I’m the Slayer,” she murmured, tone much too faint for her approval and so she added with more firmness: “I don’t have time to date and dance around just to have it all end up with us doing the hoochy-coochy for no reason good enough to be doing it.”

He smiled a small smile at that.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” he remarked and she gave him a look before she rose to her feet.

She was trembling, cold the one moment, sweating the next, and she couldn’t breathe properly; something seemed to be wrong with her throat.

“Did you answer MY question,” she inquired, standing with her back to him as she was convinced she wouldn’t be able to keep the act up with her eyes in his.

“Depends on which question,” he replied softly and she could hear him rise.

No, no, no, no, no!

“Right,” she smiled nervously, shutting her eyes and clenching her jaws together at the prospect of him making her turn around to face him. Opening her eyes she tried to seek the force of the furious waves beneath and before her, so that she could keep herself standing for just another few minutes. “Well... how about it?” she added. “Not that it’s really any of my business.”

He thought this was it. This had to be the moment. He couldn’t very well be presented with a more perfect time or setting to tell her what had been on his mind... far longer than from when they actually met those short months back. And what would be in his heart no matter what happened.

He had said it before, it shouldn’t be so hard.

“Is there someone...?” he mumbled, stopping behind her and hearing her blood pump through her, the thumping of her pulse was adopting the sound of the sea, brutal and harsh in his ears.

She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear the name of the ho in tight mini-skirt and see-through top that had picked him up at whatever bar and taken him home and made him see white dots because they were painted in her ceiling like some sort of retro decorative spur-of-the-moment thing that Buffy wouldn’t even get into her head of ever doing! She didn’t want to hear the name of the girl who chose the soft touches of the apartment and was the first to ever watch a Passions marathon with him, and who chose all the linen he had in his bed and who sewed the drapes he had in the windows of his study. She didn’t want to hear any of all the nice young women he had dated and who had helped him move on. She. Didn’t. Want. To. Hear. It.

“What was that kiss about?” she suddenly mumbled, her heart stopping dead in her chest when she realized she had actually said those words out loud.

Spike stared at her, taken aback by the question – one that he had been meaning to ask for some time now. Buffy made herself turn around, but it was a deliberately slow movement as she still wasn’t sure what to do with herself once she had her gaze in his once more. He was so close. She looked up at him, not startled by it, but surprised that she had been too deep into her own slight panic attack that she hadn’t even picked up on him moving nearer.

“Did it... mean anything?” she murmured and he felt how he was pulled into the depth of her, seeing her for the first and the millionth time in a new and yet well-known light.

Wanting her and yet feeling the need to turn and flee out of this place. His hands were quivering. They never did that. Then he smiled the shadow of a smile as he quietly answered:

“I don’t know... Does it have to mean something?”

She blinked before smiling tentatively as well.

“I missed you,” she said, the intensity of her eyes baring into him and he moved his hands up without thinking, placing one on her cheek and having the other slip through the silkiness of her hair.

She leaned her face into his palm, her hands on either side of his waist as she moved closer to him.

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled, and her smile broadened, then she moved her arms up and wrapped them around his neck as his went around her and pushed her to him in a tight embrace.

¤¤¤

“Isaiah.”

He smiled as he turned around. He had known she was coming. Of course he had known. He met her blue eyes with his own, wishing this moment hadn’t been forced to arrive. He had prayed ardently that he would never have to fight her.

“Abby,” he mumbled, taking note of the ever present hostility about her.

He knew from where it stemmed, and could only regret that he hadn’t been able to predict it sooner. Perhaps then he would have been able to stop it. Her mind had been poisoned, her heart shadowed into something unrecognizable and now... it was too late. For anything. Her chestnut hair fell around her shoulders, her mouth wearing a faint smile which had not an ounce of emotion in it.

She had come to kill him.

“I see you wear your best clothes,” he commented, watching the fabric in the color of their royal flag softly move around her, covering the heavy velvet of the black dress beneath it. “I’m honored.”

“Speak not anymore,” she hissed. “Words are for not. I can see you already have concluded this so why should you press the matter?”

“Of speech? Am I not entitled my fresh set of last sentences?”

“You are entitled nothing, and nothing you shall have. No mercy, no grave, no peace – traitor.”

He stared at her, then smiled again. He could not keep the warmth out of his eyes, hoping for a miracle, hoping it would thaw the ice in her gaze.

“When did she start?” he asked softly. “When did she turn you against me in this way?”

“She?” her voice was filled with mockery. “YOU turned me against yourself. When you left.”

“I am only a traitor because she proclaims it.”

“She is our ruler!” the vampiress exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with distaste and fury. “She is my princess and she has my loyalty. Forever.”

“And what of me? Once you revered me your friend. Indeed, I thought we both considered ourselves the others very soul. When did you lose faith in me...Gabriella?”

“When you began to lose faith in our great city, in our home and our ways.”

“You speak of the clan as...”

“The clan IS – and that is the end of that. Stop... trying to distract me.”

She brought out a long silver stake, it gleamed as a knife in the soft glow of the candles in the room and Isaiah eyed it with an ominous feeling between his shoulder blades. A dragged out second he let himself believe, but then he shook it off and faced the destiny life had ultimately chosen for him. She was stronger, she always had been. He hadn’t fought a battle in over two centuries and to be perfectly honest... he could not stand up against her and deceive himself that he could deliver the strike to turn her body into ashes.

After everything they had been through, he felt their bond as strongly as he ever had when he made the choice to turn her.

“Forgive me then,” he said, voice gentle and she furrowed her brow lightly, weighing the weapon in her hand. “For not making this harder,” he added and she stared at him for one fluty second, then grabbed the stake in a tighter grip and he knew she was about to make her move. Closing his eyes he relaxed his body. “I know you would have liked it better that way,” he whispered as he heard her begin to move forward.

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

Watching in slow motion as you turn to me and say

Take my breath away

Through the hourglass I saw you

In time you slipped away

When the mirror crashed I called to you

And turned to hear you say

If only for today, I am unafraid

Take my breath away

-Berlin, Take My Breath Away-

¤

Lesson the Twentieth

¤

They got back around one. Buffy pretended she wasn’t feeling the wine, but amounts of it had gone into her head and there was nothing she could do about it. They had talked and she was actually stumped at how they had simply gone from the deeper topic of that kiss, into more easy-going ones. The more time she spent with him, the less she wanted to spend away from him and as sure as she had been that she couldn’t love him anymore than she already did, it seemed the feeling truly was one that was as ever-changing as the seasons because it blossomed now in more splendor than she thought she had experienced before.

She leaned against the door to her bedroom, watching as he opened his.

“I’m just gonna shower,” he said and she nodded, though she didn’t want him to.

“Do that, see if I care,” she muttered and he smirked.

“I think half a bottle of wine is enough for you,” he said as though making a mental note and she raised her eyebrows.

“I’ll have you know I’m NOT drunk,” she stated and his smirk widened. “I’m tipsy,” she added. “There is a... huge difference,” she finished. “Item one: I’m not slurring. Item two: I haven’t said ANYthing embarrassing or incriminating for myself. Item three: ... I can’t think of one, but when you get out of that shower I’ll have one for ya.”

He smiled again, then disappeared through the doorway and she sighed.

“Item three: I haven’t lost control even once,” she grumbled, twisting her own doorknob and stepping into the room. “And neither have you,” she added, walking into the room and pulling her coat off, throwing it on the bed. “It’s been an uneventful evening on the intimacy front,” she said with one fist before her mouth, though it lacked the microphone, and then she rolled her eyes at herself.

“Who are you talking to?” his voice asked behind her and she spun around, feeling her cheeks quickly begin to burn.

Oh, darn.

“Eh... Practicing,” she smiled. “Tomorrow. Meeting all the other slayers. Talking in front of them. Can give anyone the jitters.”

She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood to keep from taking in his bare chest, and when he smiled her knees grew weak.

“Interview With a Vampire’s on,” he said and she raised her eyebrows. “I’ll be right out.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

When he left she exhaled with relief. Okay, so perhaps she was a little more than tipsy. Her guard seemed to be down. Now, was this a good thing, or a really, really bad thing? Not feeling as though she had time to debate it she walked up to her closet and pulled out a nightgown. It was made out of white cotton and fitted her loosely. Pulling off her pants and shirt she put the piece of clothing on, brushed her hair and glanced at herself in the full-length mirror on her way out of the room.

She stopped.

After a moment’s hesitation she turned and walked back to the closet. Pulling out a light-blue nightgown made of silk which was figure cut and suited her about one hundred times better, she changed. Smiling a little at her own reflection she then continued into the living room. Turning the TV on she took her seat in the armchair which had hosted her the previous evenings. The movie had reached to the part just after Lestat had turned Louis and they were in the process of attending Louis’ first aristocratic gathering in the form of a ball.

Buffy thought fluty on how this movie was made by mortals, by her kin, who had absolutely no idea that what myth they had taken the inspiration from, was in fact as real as the false-teeth in the mouths of Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt.

She jumped slightly when Spike suddenly swung himself over the back of the couch and then landed in it the same way he always lay in it, crossing his arms over his still bare chest and she let her eyes covetously take in the outlined muscles of his biceps before she directed them back on the TV-screen.

“Maybe we should be out patrolling,” she murmured.

“Nah,” he shook his head, glancing at her and the exposed skin showing everywhere that tiny piece of fabric she had on didn’t cover up. “The ones out there can handle it.”

She glanced back at him and he looked away. She did the same, feeling like a juvenile fool. So, he had missed her. So, that kiss had been a relive of what had been missed. It didn’t mean that it hadn’t meant something. On the other hand, the time SHE had used those very words he had spoken... she had ended up telling him she loved him. Was he trying to send her some sort of message? Was he scared too, wondering what it all boiled down to? What it all meant? Were they walking in circles when all they had to do was...?

But then, what if he’d just used that sentence of hers for what it was...? It might not even have been a quote... No, he had seemed like he remembered it. Perhaps he had chosen it because it applied so well to the situation, and not because of its meaning.

She looked at him casually, and remembered only the good things that had occurred between them. It drove her into rising and making her way up to the side of the couch. He took his eyes from the screen and gazed up at her, wondering. She smiled.

“Scoot,” she said and he cocked an eyebrow. “I’m burning up,” she added wryly and he smiled back, unfolding his arms as he moved back to make room for her.

She sunk down, back to him and his left arm beneath her as he wrapped it around her shoulders, and the other around her stomach. She put her own arms on his, hesitating before she entwined their fingers and he held hers back, pulling her a little closer. She smiled again, contentedly.

¤¤¤

At nine the next morning Buffy woke. She had her nose nestled against his throat, her arms folded between their chests and his arms still around her. Their legs were intertwined and she barely dared to breathe, thinking she’d wake him. Then she remembered, an earthquake was probably barely able to wake him. Throwing candles at him didn’t even wake him on the first try. She smirked to herself at the memory. So very long ago it seemed now. Still she made sure to be careful as she moved her head to look up at him, pulling back until she could see his face. A smile was again born on her mouth. She was lucky. Not only did she know who she wanted, she was fortunate enough to be able to lie beside him like this.

There were too many question marks, but she brushed them all aside. Just for now she wanted to be with him, in any way that meant. And being in his arms was one of the best ways she knew.

He suddenly eased his eyes open and her smile broadened a tad.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he murmured, still sleepy. “Maybe we should move...?”

“Maybe,” she agreed, immobile.

He smiled a small smile, then closed his eyes again; slipping one hand up and into her hair he softly began to stroke it. She closed her eyes as well, feeling her body begin to relax completely.

¤¤¤

Buffy hung up the phone at Wolfram and Hart.

They had gotten back from the Dandies an hour ago and she had spent a lot of that time talking to Giles.

The visit to the branch had gone smoothly, and she had to admit that she thought Camelia was doing a first-rate job. However, she still didn’t enjoy the way the other woman looked at Spike. It didn’t seem at all like Spike perceived it that way, or that he reciprocated the emotions, but Buffy still couldn’t help but think that Camelia had known he had been brought back into this world before the Slayer herself did. In the end it seemed most things she disliked about Camelia had been roused out of pure jealousy.

“Well?” Angel asked as she entered his office.

He was gathered there with Cordelia and Spike, and now they were all waiting for the news Buffy was undoubtedly about to share with them. She sat down on the couch, also containing Spike, and then looked at all of them before she said:

“The translation won’t be ready in time. He said they’ve managed to get through the first part of it, but that the language is too...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t even matter. Maybe it wouldn’t have told us anything useful anyways. It might not be a key after all.”

“All I know is that it’s said to have an invitation, a poem and a warning on it,” Angel said. “The warning is pretty heavy,” he added and Buffy smiled weakly.

“Great,” she then murmured before adding. “So, we leave tomorrow, guys.”

“Tomorrow?” Cordelia asked, looking surprised. “There’s three days left ‘til Christmas...”

“We have to start searching the caves,” Buffy interrupted, standing. “There’s fourteen of them now, and Camelia said there might still be more.”

“How utterly wonderful,” Cordelia muttered and Angel reached out a hand, taking hers tenderly and Buffy observed the look of comfort he exchanged with her.

She moved her own gaze to Spike’s and met his, coming to the conclusion that he must have been watching her and she smiled again. He returned it.

“There’s not much more for us to do ‘til then,” she said, looking back at the other vamp and his lady. “We’ll pack, bring weapons, check the lists to make sure we have everything... Did you talk to Fred and Gunn?” she asked and Angel nodded.

“They’re on location in Sydney,” he answered.

“Good.”

Spike got to his feet and they all said goodnight.

Buffy was quiet on the elevator ride down to the garage and Spike noticed the tightened jaw line, her arms crossed over her chest and the way she stared in front of her as though seeing something he didn’t.

The relaxation seemed to have lifted off her like mist off water and he felt he mourned it, and yet embraced it. The warrior within her was what she had to bring forth in order to stay alive through this fight, and so he was relieved to see it back. But...

“It’s okay,” he said gently and she turned her head to him, questioning. “To be scared,” he added and she blinked, then looked away from him again.

“No,” she then replied. “It really isn’t.”

¤¤¤

Buffy couldn’t fall asleep.

After they left Wolfram and Hart she had patrolled with Spike for nearly three hours. They had returned an hour ago, and still she wasn’t tired enough to shut her eyes and have it overcome her. She knew what was going on, what had started its well-known dance the moment she ended the conversation with Giles earlier. She had felt it so many times before. She was shutting down all the parts of her that could be considered weak and helpless, the parts that made her vulnerable and made it able for those out to hurt her, do so. She was pressing her emotions back into the farthest reaches of her soul. Out of self-preservation she was pushing Spike away as well. She hadn’t been prepared for this, she had thought that, if anything, now she would search ways of getting even closer to him. But the Slayer side of her was stronger and more determined than anything, especially when it came this close to pending battle.

And no, it wasn’t okay to be scared. She couldn’t afford to expose anything that might be taken for frailty in the face of danger. Not this time.

Isaiah’s words kept ringing in her ears.

‘What I am telling you is being told because I have been observing you for some time, and see that you have everything to lose.’

She opened her eyes and glared at the ceiling. She had always had everything to lose – why would this time be any different? She fought for the world, for her family, for her friends, for herself. She wouldn’t back down this time either.

Suddenly she thought she saw a movement at the foot of the bed, by the windows. She raised her head a little but the room was empty. Then she thought she saw a flash of a female form outside the window before her. It was gone in the next instant and Buffy pulled herself into a seated position to get a clearer look. She was just growing certain that it had been her imagination when it appeared again.

The young woman wore a black, ankle-long dress; and over it another dress in dark-purple, see-through fabric which gently blew in the wind. She had long, chestnut brown hair and her eyes were piercingly blue as they observed the Slayer with an almost manic expression in them.

Buffy felt her heart begin to race, even against her own better judgment, as she realized it was one of them. One of the Ancients, standing on the balcony of her room, beckoning for entrance.

The vampiress moved forward so quickly Buffy barely caught the movement, her slender hands pressed against the glass of the window and in the next moment she had vanished from sight. Buffy sat frozen for another second, trying to figure out if she was actually awake or if she was dreaming.

Deciding on the former she threw her covers off, jumped up and ran up to the door. Opening it she ran through the hallway and opened Spike’s door without bothering to knock. She closed it behind her, turned around and met his quizzical gaze. He had obviously not been sleeping either, but the room lay in the blue colored shadows of moonlight. She took a step forward.

Spike stared at her pale face, at the startled look in her eyes.

“I’m scared,” she whispered and he got off the bed, his arms around her the following instant and she pressed herself to him, hiding her face against his chest.

He hushed her gently, calmingly holding her.

“Is there anything I can...?”

“You’re doing it,” she interrupted softly, putting her arms about his waist and breathing in his familiar scent.

He caught her face between his palms and made her look at him. Her gaze had softened; her heart was beating more easily. She smiled a half smile at his worried expression.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” she asked quietly and he moved his hands, sliding them down her arms and making her shiver from the unexpected sensation before he took one of her hands and lead her to the bed.

She looked at it, then at him, and smiled again. Reaching up a hand she gently placed it on his cheek and he closed his eyes for a moment, her lips suddenly connecting with his other cheek and he looked at her again as she pulled back. She still wore the smile, sinking down on the bed and he followed, moving his arms around her and she turned around to lie on her side, meeting his gaze and holding it.

“This bed is more comfortable than mine,” she stated and he smiled widely.

“Then it’s yours,” he murmured and she returned the smile.

“Don’t want it,” she said and he cocked an eyebrow. “It’s too big.”

He smirked.

“I’ll shrink it just for you,” he retorted, having her smile widened.

“That’s not what I meant,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting to his mouth and then back into his and he bit his lower lip as he felt her body suddenly closer.

“What then?” he asked, voice nearly breaking as one of her hands slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck, tickling him carefully.

She didn’t say anything, but he felt a swirl tear through his stomach at the look in her eyes, on her face. The warmth in her gaze poured into him, and he welcomed it with the stunned emotion which followed it.

“I really want you to kiss me right now,” she murmured and he frowned, moving one hand up and gently slipping his fingertips down her cheek, having her close her eyes.

“Say that again,” he entreated, voice low as he stared at her face, the curve of her upper lip, the shape of the tip of her nose, her eyelashes.

She hesitated only because she couldn’t grasp all the shades of what she had just said, of how his touch was so tender and yet so demanding, of how his voice was still sounding in her ears and how her body was attentive to every last centimeter of his.

“I really want you to kiss me right n-...” she repeated, being interrupted by his lips catching hers, the kiss deepening instantly and she smiled in the midst of it, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled her to him.

Their movements were languorous, pleasurable, the kiss slow. He rolled them over and she spread her legs, fitting him between them and taking a hold on the T he was still in, tugging at it and pulling it over his head. He looked down at her as she put it aside, their eyes locking and she smiled a little. He loved her. In that moment there was no doubt in her mind that he loved her. It was in his gaze, in his kiss... He still loved her. No matter how fluty the conviction, it moved through her with the gentleness of her own emotions. She reached up her hands, placing them on either side of his face before gently pulling him down, joining their lips again.

Time flowed over the edges and didn’t matter. It was as though that night was the rest of their life; it wouldn’t end. The kissing almost cautiously began to pick up on the growing tension between their bodies. How their hands slipped over grateful and aching skin with greater famine for the touch they craved. How their tongues play was growing ever more challenging.

Finally he broke it by pulling back to sit on his knees. He looked down at her, her chest heaving slightly with the excitement she was clearly under, her eyes laced with a desire that spread through him like wild fire and he took a small breath at the feeling of it.

No turning back.

Thank God.

He placed his hands on either of her thigh, slipping them up and under the light fabric of her short nightgown, pushing it tentatively up over her stomach. She was trembling, her eyes having closed and her fingers grasping the covers. He let his upper body follow the movement, his lips connecting with the smooth skin next to her navel and she drew a quivering breath. He continued upward, his hands on the spot of her ribs and his mouth continuing to kiss its way along her side. He ran his tongue along the hill of her right breast and she moaned, his hands moving to pull the nightgown over her head and her arms wrapped around his neck, pressing their chests together as she kissed him deeply, hungrily, and it was his turn to moan quietly.

The harsh fabric of his jeans teased her already smoldering skin and she found her wanting soar to new heights. It felt as though it had been ages upon ages since they lay like this, heat to heat, throb to throb. In a way – it was. And in a way, it had never been like this. The intensity she was under now was spurred on further by the complete devotion she felt whenever she looked at him. Feeling him close, feeling how she affected him, how he reacted to her, how much his greed for her mirrored her own – it took her pleasure to deeper places within her. It was an overwhelming sensation – the absolute happiness she felt in his arms.

She slid her hands down his chest, having her fingers work the button of his pants and getting it open, pulling the zipper down and then putting her feet up, using them to push the fabric down, his mouth leaving hers and traveling down her neck instead. Her feet could only get the jeans so far and she giggled when they got stuck by his knees. He smirked as well, putting his head up and meeting her gaze. She was smiling, her face shining with a softness he hadn’t seen there in a long time. She was glowing.

His heart surged.

Had he done that?

Then he kissed her carefully before pulling back, getting the obstinate piece of clothing off him and then being pushed to lie on his back as she moved around him, straddling him before she leaned forward to connect their lips again. She began to sit up, but he wasn’t going to let her go that easily and followed, mouth still locked with hers. She smiled once more, bringing her hands up and slipping them into his hair. Moving her hips she allowed him to guide himself into her, their eyes finding the others.

She took a shaky breath and the corners of his mouth curled into the hint of a smile. Then she began to slowly move her hips forward and he closed his eyes. She watched his face for another moment before she did as him and then brought her lips to his again, parting them and pulling herself closer to him as he moved inside her, his hands on her back.

They sat sinking into the other forever, the staggering rapture rising and falling with every new movement and soon they were breathing in rhythm, mouth to mouth, noses touching. He could feel the familiar quiver running through her, a small gasp, and knew she was getting closer to the peak. Flipping her to the side he rolled with her and she groaned loudly as he thrust himself to new depths of her, bringing forth the explosion within her so hard she bucked her head back as it coursed through her.

He was moaning as well, his face against her throat and she brought her hands to run over his back and into his hair as the pleasure wouldn’t stop coming, wanting him to share it with her. He raised his head and kissed her deeply as he climaxed and when their bodies stopped their gentle rocking, enjoying the aftermath of all things good, they ended the kiss gently.

She was almost afraid of looking at him, and at the same time she had to. Opening her eyes she met his and had to smile a small smile. He returned it, kissing her cheek and the corner of her mouth, his hands stroking away her hair and then resting on either side of her head. Her fingers softly traced his back, up to his shoulder blades, staying there for a moment and then slipping back down again.

They didn’t move for a long while.

¤¤¤

Buffy woke with a start, but when she felt his arms around her, his chest against her cheek and the calm breathing of him, she quieted. She liked being naked in his bed, she concluded. She enjoyed the feel of his cool skin as her body ran along his side, the feel of his hold on her. She felt secure, like a jewel in a safety box, kept away from greedy hands. She was his, and his alone. Thinking that made the tender blossoms of joy erupt inside her again and she smiled to herself.

And right now you’re mine, she thought, pulling herself up and nuzzling her nose against his ear before she gently took his earlobe between her teeth, and bit.

He jerked and she let her bite go, smiling innocently as his eyes focused on her.

“Hey,” he murmured and her smile broadened as her hand slipped down his chest and further south, his lips parting at the touch and his gaze growing heavy with purified longing.

She ravished it, every ounce of it.

“Hey,” she then mumbled back.

¤¤¤

He had no idea for how long he’d been awake, but he knew that he would never tire of watching her sleep. He could lie beside her for the rest of his existence, and he wouldn’t wish for anything more. They could sleep in the street, and he would be content. Brushing his fingers carefully along her cheek for the hundredth time he couldn’t believe it, that he could do that and she didn’t flinch. She even searched for his touch, wanted it with no mask on, no charade, no games – just them, together. He kept seeing her face as it had been on the night that he died, her eyes sparkling with tears and then suddenly there had been a new light in them... and then she had told him.

He smiled a little, still reluctant to fully give into the notion which had struck him, but unable to completely banish it from his heart or his mind. Why would she, after everything they had been through and after everything that had happened over the passed few months, go to bed with him if she felt anything less?

It was as it always had been – a confusing, exhilarating thought. One second he knew he had to trust it, the next he wanted it to leave him be with its taunting depravity. Because that was what it was. He refused to fool himself into actually believing that she...

He slid his face closer to hers, putting it on the pillow beside her and observing her as though perhaps, in the soft lines of her jaw, her brow, lie the answer.

He hadn’t experienced what he had just experienced with her, ever before. He had made love to her; no restraints, no smokescreens this time – only him. And he had thought she had at least glimpsed it. Something in the way she had looked at him had told him that she had.

Suddenly her hand moved up and stroked his hair, resting it by the side of his head she mumbled:

“Go to sleep.”

He smiled, feeling incredibly caught in the act of doing something prohibited; but then she opened her eyes and rested them in his, a small smile playing on her mouth as she brought her hand away and then merely observed him in the silence of the room.

“What?” he whispered and she shook her head barely noticeably.

“There should be few things in this world that could amaze me,” she whispered back, finishing softly: “and you never stopped.”

He smiled tentatively, bringing the palm of her hand to his lips and kissing it lovingly. She slipped her thumb over his lower lip gently, then closed her eyes again. He didn’t follow her lead, too filled up by her to sleep. Keeping her hand in his he lay watching her for another hour.

¤¤¤

She was in the small room of the oracle. The old woman was sitting at the table, her arms held out, bent at the elbows, palms up. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were crying blood from closed eyelids. She was whispering incoherent sentences made up by words the Slayer could not comprehend.

“Mithir... dohr... karanahth... lihm...”

The room was slowly filling with a white, thick mist.

“Rothim... simirith... harakath... birh...”

“What?” Buffy whispered and everything grew so still she could hear the raging thumping of her pulse in her ears, and then the oracle twitched her head to face the Slayer as she opened her eyes, colored red with the thick liquid swimming in them.

“Sithir dorh mahkora sahahleth.”

Buffy furrowed her brow. She knew that sentence.

Isaiah.

A flash... a vision of the vampire with his back to her... something silvery cutting through him... the tip of a stake... he turned into ashes and through them stepped...

Buffy drew a breath.

The vampiress from her balcony.

Now the creature fastened its gaze in the Slayer’s, the hatred in it made Buffy feel weak. The power of it was unlike any she had ever seen. As the other lunged at her, her instincts took over and she met the attack only to have the vampiress move too quickly, having the Slayer miss taking the blow and getting an awesome strike delivered to the small of her back. She couldn’t tell if she was screaming, but she went down on her knees and before she knew it the enemy had her arms locked behind her in a crushing grip.

The next instant she felt two chilled hands on either side of her face. She had no time to react. Her head was twisted forcefully to one side and she could hear the bones of her neck crack.