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

Your body’s warm, but you are not

You give a little not a lot

It could be love until we kiss

You’re all I want, but not like this

I’m watching you disappear

But you – you were never here

It’s only your shadow

Never yourself

It’s only your shadow

Nobody else

It’s only your shadow

Filling the room

Arriving too late

And leaving too soon

Leaving too soon

How can I tell if you mean what you say

You say it so loud that you sound far away

Maybe I’ve had just a glimpse of your soul

Or was that your shadow I saw on the wall

Your laughter it lingers on

But you – you are almost gone

-Britney Spears, Shadow-

¤

Lesson the Twenty-First

¤

“Buffy,” Spike’s voice woke her softly, soothingly. “It’s okay. It’s okay...”

She drew a breath, steadying her heart racing in her chest and locking her eyes with his. He looked concerned and she moved forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and nestling her face against his throat as he held her to him.

“Are the nightmares back?” he asked after a while and she shook her head.

“Slayer dream,” she murmured, placing her cheek against his chest and leaving her arms as they were.

“Seemed... not fun,” he remarked and she smiled.

“Not fun it was,” she admitted. “I’m beginning to question what the hell I’m doing.”

“Hey,” he said and she smiled again, turning her head to look up at him.

“Hey,” she then said warmly and he smirked, running one hand through her locks.

“So, the nightmares aren’t back?” he asked and she shook her head once more. “Then... Well, not that I’m complaining, now – but then why’d you come in here?”

“Oh...” she mumbled, shrugging as she added: “There was an Ancient on my balcony.”

“A what now?!” he exclaimed, having her sit up as he did so and she blinked.

“Well, I just freaked ‘cause Isaiah was in my room without a formal invitation from me and so I thought perhaps they don’t need one and maybe she could’ve...” She trailed off at his stricken expression and then smiled. “I’m alright. She’s not in here. Obviously there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Isaiah got inside without an invitation?” Spike asked and she hesitated, then nodded.

“But I don’t know! He could’ve used a thrall on someone to invite him in, or maybe he for some reason has been there before – it used to be Council property and maybe he knew someone there or had a connection to it for some reason. Or... Well, suffice to say, they might be a whole lot stronger than we first anticipated... than I’VE anticipated... and last night I literally came face-to-face with my fear,” she finished. “That’s why I came in here.”

He looked at her, his gaze slipping down over her exposed breasts and stomach and she smiled slightly.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, gaze growing husky as he leaned closer.

“Don’t ask,” he mumbled and her smile broadened as he paused, lips an inch from hers, and then he kissed her.

“You’re thinking that wasn’t why I came in here,” she teased as he made her fall back on the bed, placing himself on top of her.

“What else would you wanna come in here for?” he teased back, joining their lips again, stifling the soft laugh rising in her throat.

“I’ll give you one guess,” she breathed as he slid inside her.

“I don’t want just one reason,” he mumbled, mouth still to hers and she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze before she smiled.

“You don’t make all the rules,” she said, taking another breath as he moved his hips forward.

“I don’t make any rules,” he retorted, taking her upper lip between his and she moaned silently. “Just... requests.”

“I’m here... what more do you want?” she asked, eyes still in his and now he smiled a small smile.

“Do you want it sugarcoated?” he wondered and she laughed, then moaned again, gasping before kissing him once more.

“No,” she then said.

He met her gaze and felt himself torn in two. His love was beating for recognition, and his fear pushed against the door which held the feeling back. He hated it, and welcomed it, because with the fear came a lack of responsibility.

“Remember Thanksgiving?” he made up his mind, for the time being, and he could see that she didn’t even have to think two seconds about it.

Her eyes widened, and then she smirked in expectance at the memory of that night just over three years ago. If that was what he requested, she would most happily oblige.

¤¤¤

The shrill ring of the phone woke him and soon Buffy grumbled in his arms.

“Could it be a little bit louder?” she grunted and he smiled, untangling their fingers, which had been locked together, and reaching out to grab the receiver.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Yeah. Okay. Good. Fine. Bye.”

He hung up and lay back, feeling how her fingers found his and tangled them together again, which had a smile be born on his mouth. Her hair was an adorable mess and he kissed the top of her head, making her open one eye and then smile slightly as well.

She couldn’t fathom that it was true. That last night had happened. That it was real. She was there, with him, they were there together. Really together. Almost as though they always had been.

“It should be against the law to be this relaxed,” she finally sighed and he smirked.

“Then you’ll be out of the bloody slammer in no time after I tell you that we have less than an hour to get ready.”

She raised her head.

“Funny,” she said and his smirk merely widened. “An hour?! Are they crazy?!” she exclaimed and he chuckled.

“We overslept,” he replied as she sat up, brushing her hair out of her face before she turned her eyes back in his.

She thought it over for a moment, then slid back to her previous position, putting an arm across his chest.

“Just ten more minutes,” she murmured. “Can’t hurt now.”

He smiled widely at that, then offered his concurrence.

¤¤¤

“You packed?” he asked as she came into the hallway leading to the living room.

She held up her backpack, not wanting to feel so uncertain of how to act around him, but unable to feel any other way as their eyes met and she nearly immediately glanced away again. She was blushing gently, walking passed him without being able to hold back a slight smile. It had been a struggle to get out of bed, and even more so not to shout for him to drag all his clothes into her room and pack in there instead. If one could call what he did “packing”.

“I’ll never figure out how you do it,” she said, putting her backpack down on the floor of the hall and turning to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Look so damn good without putting in an oomph of energy,” she replied and he smirked.

“Comes with the bite,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, bottle it and have it trademarked ‘cause if you can find some way to transfer it onto us mere mortals you’ll make a fortune,” she stated and he cocked an eyebrow.

“My darling, don’t tell me you’re not familiar with the procedure where we market ourselves to the light side?” he asked and she smiled sweetly.

“That’s not what I mean,” she muttered, but he moved up to her and she felt her heart beat elevate as he stepped into her.

“Pity,” he said, then leaned down and kissed her throat and she smiled, tentatively putting her arms around him and meeting his kiss as his mouth traveled to hers.

There was a hard tap on the door and then it opened, Angel stepping through it just as Slayer and Vamp stepped apart.

“Ready?” he asked, looking from one to the other, and they both nodded.

¤¤¤

Buffy forced herself not to reach out and slip her hand in Spike’s during the two hour drive from L.A. to the spot of the Dandies. Could she have had it the way she wanted it she would have shouted from the rooftops that she was in love, crazily so... but she had a gut feeling that everything was at a low key must for the time being. She glanced at him from now and then, sometimes his eyes met hers, sometimes not, but every time they did they both had the most foolish smiles on before looking away again.

Stupid. Idiotic. Moronic.

And yet utterly wonderful.

They arrived at seven o’clock, dark having spread over the camp in which they were to live for the coming three days. Buffy’s acute sight could take in the gaping crater of the Hellmouth even in the blackness of the evening and she felt a slight shiver run down her spine when she thought of how once here a town had spread its light. A town in which she had known every last alley way and street by heart. She could have walked through it blind folded. Here her house had been, here her mother’s grave had been, here he had died.

She turned her head to him at the thought, his gaze in hers instantly and then he smiled reassuringly. She returned it, slinging her backpack over one shoulder and filing in behind Angel and Cordelia. Spike walked at the Slayer’s side and she wanted to reach out and touch him just to make sure he was real. Instead she looked up as she heard a voice she recognized.

Camelia came towards them with two other slayers following. She introduced them as Dinah and Gin and told the others that these two girls were her most trusted and that they could always fill in on details or answer any questions if Camelia herself for some reason was unavailable.

The camp was vast. A larger tent served as food quarters and held both dining space and kitchen. Another large tent held tables for meetings, debriefing and socializing. A fleet of smaller tents made up the living barracks. Each of these tents held two or four people and there were nearly thirty tents all and all. Two more had been set up for the newcomers and Camelia pointed all the significant spots of the Hellmouth out as they headed for these accommodations.

They all stopped by them, Camelia turning to face the others.

“Dinner’s at eight. You’ll decide how you wanna sleep in between yourselves, I’m sure,” she said with a smile. “It’s great to finally have you here.”

She walked off, Dinah and Gin following, and the four now left stood indecisive for a moment before they all smiled rather sheepishly.

“Well,” Cordelia broke the silence.

“Here we are,” Angel murmured.

“Indeed,” Spike nodded.

“For Pete’s sake,” Buffy grumbled. “I’m taking this one,” she stated, diving in through the nearest tent opening.

“Dibs on this,” Cordelia said, disappearing through the other and the two vampires stared at each other, then had to smirk.

“Well,” Angel said meaningfully and Spike raised his eyebrows in the same fashion.

“Indeed,” he agreed, proceeding in Buffy’s footsteps as Angel took Cordelia’s.

Buffy was sitting on her cot. She looked up at the bleached blonde as he stopped before her, then carefully reached out and moved her hand into his.

¤¤¤

The camp never fully slept. Guards patrolled the outer reaches and others kept up the search of the immense area, which the crater of the Hellmouth covered. There was a lessening in activity during the night hours, but not a complete stand still. This was one of the things that impressed Buffy.

Another thing was how fit every single slayer seemed to be in their role. There was no hesitation on anyone’s face. No tentativeness, no contemplation – merely pure determination as the final day was rapidly approaching. She could feel the tension, the expectance, the real and present focus. It kicked her into a whole other gear and during dinner she conversed easily with those around her, asking questions about the crater, about the caves which had been found, about the difficulties of the terrain in the crater and about where everyone were from and how they had ended up in the Dandy branch.

There was a free flow of information, and everyone seemed happy to be able to help in any way. They were an organized group of warriors the likes of which Buffy had never seen. They were a huge assembly, and still they functioned extremely well. This was something she hadn’t gotten the chance to experience first hand on their previous little trip to the branch’s headquarters – simply because the slayers that made up the branch weren’t at the headquarters and hadn’t been so for weeks, they had been stationed here.

In a way a part of her wished she had joined them much sooner. Then her gaze met Spike’s, and she was glad that she hadn’t.

She said goodnight to the girls closest to her and Spike rose as well. Following her to the tent in silence he felt as though something was slightly off. As though they had somehow become a little estranged even in the short time it had taken them to sit down for that meal. She was different, though he wasn’t sure she even knew it herself.

He zipped the tent shut, turning to her as she lit the small gasoline lamp standing on the chair placed between their cots. She faced him, her form a black shadow against the sudden light. He ached to touch her, but feared she would pull away.

“They seem nice,” she said and he nodded, still unsure of what he should do.

What he could do.

“They do,” he agreed silently.

“Seem to like you,” she stated and he could hear in her voice she was smiling.

She moved and sat down on her cot, looking at the ground in front of her feet and the thoughtfulness on her now illuminated profile made him furrow his brow. He slowly approached where she was, and had a seat as well, next to her.

“I’m someone they’ve heard of for a while,” he mumbled. “They’re curious...”

“Same with me,” she interrupted. “They don’t ask me a million questions, but I can see it in their eyes. Camelia came right out and said it, and her words are on their tongues even if they don’t speak them... They’ve heard every last bit of my history. They know everything. It’s so strange to... think it. They don’t have to ask, ‘cause they already know me.”

“Buffy...”

She smiled a rather weak smile, turning her head to hold his gaze.

“But they’ll never really know... will they?” she asked, voice lowered and he shook his head.

“At least not if we’re really quiet,” he then said in a conspiratorial whisper and she looked at him, then huffed with a smile.

Moving she gently straddled him and he put his hands on her hips, eyes still in hers.

She slid her fingers carefully over his face, his jaw line and cheek bones, nose, chin, and then she leaned forward, placing her lips against the scar at his left eyebrow. Wrapping her arms around his neck she buried her own face against his throat, drawing a breath and beginning to relax as he softly stroked her back.

“You okay, love?” he asked and she smiled at the familiar term of affection.

She brought her head up and kissed him softly on the lips. Pulling back she met his gaze, then kissed him again. He deepened it and she closed her eyes. His tongue and taste had the power to take her over, make her weak and needy. She was exposed to him like this. Ending the kiss softly she looked at him once more.

“I can’t be really quiet,” she admitted and he smiled warmly, creating a fluttering sensation from her collarbones to her toes.

Tilting her over, her head ended up on the pillow and he placed himself at her side, bringing one hand up and performing the well-known gesture of slipping it gently through her blonde strands. She smiled suddenly.

“’Stupid hair’,” she murmured and he raised his eyebrows quizzically. “Once you rambled about... me needing satisfaction in my life and that you never really liked me anyway and...” She giggled. “...and that I had stupid hair,” she finished. “I should have known,” she rolled her eyes and he smiled as well.

“I didn’t think you bloody listened to what I said back then,” he mumbled and her smile broadened.

“Sometimes I couldn’t help it,” she whined, making him chuckle.

He kissed the tip of her nose, then hesitated and when she couldn’t take it any longer she brought her lips to his.

¤¤¤

An hour later Buffy stopped the kissage.

“I have to sleep,” she murmured and he was about to say something, then merely sighed as she rolled over on her side, his arms still around her.

“You gonna sleep in this? Not gonna change?” he wondered and she shook her head.

“What’s the use?” she asked.

“So... I take it you’ve decided that daytime is... your time?” he inquired and she smiled.

“I had to. That’s when most of the job gets done around here,” she replied, pausing before she added: “They’re not used to having nocturnal creatures in their midst.”

He smirked at that, wrapping his arms tighter around her. She moved a little, making him loosen his grip and he frowned. Soon she was asleep and he stayed awake for another hour and a half before he felt himself drifting. He had a sudden feeling of free falling of a cliff, and jerked, opening his eyes and fastening them on her peaceful face. He had the most powerful wish in his head in that moment, for morning to stay dormant longer than usual.

A lot longer.

¤¤¤

There was a fire roaring in the fireplace, spreading its light and warmth where it was not really needed.

Maeve put her hands on the heavy stone banister of her balcony, overlooking the orchard which was still suffering unexpected winter. Its frosting lay glittering and undisturbed. Its beauty was quite enchanting. Every time she let her eyes take it in, there seemed to be something new about it that pulled at her.

A small smile curled her lips and she said:

“I heard what you did.”

Theodore took the place beside her, gazing out on the whiteness below them as well.

“Rather – what I did not,” he murmured and her smile widened by a fraction.

“Yes,” she admonished, still not looking at him. “But that is so much what you did that I cannot emphasize it enough.”

“I did not make the choice...”

“Theo.”

“He fled,” he stated and at the tone in his voice she turned her head and met his gaze. “It was not my choice,” he repeated and she concealed her growing disappointment well.

“Then you chose to hand the task over to another,” she said, her voice lowered and laced with sudden anger. “And that choice condemned him.”

“I know,” he said and she glared at him, turning to leave when he placed a hand on her arm.

She glanced at it, and when her eyes found his again he removed the tentative touch.

“You could not have killed him,” she stated and there was brief sorrow in his gaze, before it hardened.

“Yes, I could have,” he disagreed quietly.

She clenched her jaws together, then proceeded into her drawing room, continuing into her bedroom and closing the door with a low click.

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

Hypnotized by the night

Silently rising beside me

Emptiness, nothingness

Is burning a hole inside me

Take my heart, take my soul

I don’t need them anymore

The one I love

Is striking me down on my knees

The one I love

Drowning me in my dreams

The one I love

Over and over again

Dragging me under

So take my life

I don’t need it anymore

-The Rasmus, The One I Love-

¤

Lesson the Twenty-Second

¤

“The five largest caves lay on the east side,” Camelia pointed and Buffy nodded.

It was the following morning and they had been hiking around the crater for nearly three hours, but neither slayer was even close to breaking a sweat. It was closing in on eleven o’clock in the morning, the sky being sketched a white-gray tone and rain having been promised for the evening. From where they were standing they had a perfect view of the whole camp, as well as most of the east regions of the crater.

“I see... two of them,” Buffy said.

“Show me,” Camelia asked and Buffy did. “Right. And then...” Camelia pointed again and Buffy followed her finger, her eyes taking in the partially hidden gape of a third cave.

“Oh, yeah, I see it,” she said and Camelia smiled.

“Ready to move again?” she asked and Buffy smiled back, nodding.

They got back at three, going to the kitchen to get some of the leftovers from lunch. Sitting down they struck up a conversation about the mundane things of the slayerhood, as well as the perks. Buffy laughed when Camelia pointed out that kicking the ass of a much too forward guy at the local bar of her hometown had gotten to be a high-point of her powers.

“Where are you from?” Buffy asked.

“Colorado,” the other answered with a smirk. “Hicksville,” she added and Buffy smiled as well. “But I have to say this profession suits me perfectly. I never felt I belonged in a small town, I always wanted more than what any of the people I knew had to offer. I’m loving every moment of this, and have ever since I came here.”

“Where did you train?”

“In Boston,” she answered. “Coral-branch.”

“And you came here...?”

“About a year ago. Received initial training and was appointed head of the branch when our former was killed...”

She trailed off and Buffy watched the growing tightness of her face.

“Arderia?” the Slayer then asked and Camelia huffed.

“That’s eight months ago. That was when I met the Halos,” she said and Buffy raised her eyebrows. Camelia smiled. “Sorry. Inside joke. Angel and Spike,” she clarified.

“Oh, ‘Halos’, I get it,” Buffy smirked, though rather unsurely.

“I can tell he really cares about you...” Camelia murmured and Buffy met her gaze before she swallowed the food she had been chewing.

“Well, we have some history,” she said.

“What sort?” Camelia wondered.

Buffy could sense the sudden urgency in the other’s tone, though she had tried to hide it.

“The longest kind,” she then replied with another small smile and Camelia smiled back.

They finished their meal and Buffy rose.

“I’ll go wake the dead,” she said, stretching. “Spike said he wanted to get up early.”

Camelia smirked at the ease with which the other joked about the vampire, then nodded just as Gin came into the tent.

“Buffy. Good. There’s a phone call for you. It’s important. Someone named Willow,” she said.

“You get it,” Camelia said. “I can go wake Spike.”

“Okay,” Buffy agreed, following Gin though it was with slight reluctance as she watched Camelia head for the cluster of smaller tents.

Stepping into the tent hosting the recon areas she walked up to one of three phones and grabbed the receiver which was lying off hook.

“Hi, Wills. What’s up?” she asked.

“I spoke to Fred,” she said, voice hurried and Buffy frowned. “Angel forgot to give the number to the camp and his cell is out,” she added, explaining, then continued: “So, they’ve caught another member of the Arderia and I dunno if it was a leader, but he had told them some interesting stuff about your dragon – which IS a dragon, by the way. It’s big and fire-spouting and pretty much looks like it was depicted in the book. He said that the only way to kill it is to burn it with its own fire, but it seemed he had no idea how the hell you’re supposed to do that. Otherwise, how are things going? Had a chance to check the place out yet?”

She drew a breath and Buffy smiled.

“Wow,” she then said. “Point one seconds,” she added. “New record.”

“Very funny,” Willow smirked. “But it’s good news right? I’m so excited to be the good-news-bringer.”

“It’s great news, really, it is. Now we know what we’re up against,” Buffy nodded.

“You don’t sound as excited as I feel,” Willow said and Buffy tried hard to muster up some excitement, but failed.

“It’s just... Okay, now we know it’s not Mushu and that we’ll have to fight something big and can’t just stomp it to death – but...”

“I know, I know,” Willow grumbled. “The ‘burning it with its own fire’ deal. A bit too much?”

“You offer critical food for thought,” Buffy said and Willow muttered. “Come on, it IS good news. Very good. The goodest ever, I swear!”

“Best,” Willow corrected without feeling and Buffy laughed. “Thanks though,” the Wicca added, a smile in her tone. “I’ll talk to you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Buffy assured. “Definitely.”

They said goodbye and hung up, the Slayer crossing her arms over her chest and turning around to face Dinah, who just entered the tent.

“Come on,” she said. “There’s something I wanna show you.”

The younger slayer took the older to the branch’s extensive weapons arsenal and the latter forgot all of her troubles as she walked around, trying crossbows and weighing craftsmanship swords in her used hands. It seemed every piece was individual and a work of art, at least in her eyes. Dinah bid her to choose three and it took Buffy over half an hour to narrow it down to six weapons. Two swords, a crossbow, a set of knives, a long dagger and her last addition to the batch – a long stake carved in hard and solid wood.

Finally she decided on the heavier of the swords, the dagger and the stake. She was just admiring the last one when Spike entered the tent. He was smoking slightly from the sun and she smiled a little, putting the stake down and meeting him half way.

“Wanna see what goodies I got?” she asked and he smiled as well at the glitter in her eyes.

She escorted him up to the table hosting her gifts and he nodded his appreciation as she held them all up. He reached for the sword, grabbing it and skillfully swinging it through the air a few times.

“Incredible,” he said and Buffy beamed.

“Isn’t it?” she asked. “It’s so cool. And the best part is – it’s mine!”

He smiled again, putting the sword back in its place and turning to her.

“I was a little surprised at the wake up I got,” he said and she looked at him, then smiled, grabbing the dagger and pulling it out of its sheath as she apologized:

“Sorry. Willow called. She had good news though.”

He watched her slip her fingers over the blade of the weapon in her hand. He was scared of being near her, scared of how she had behaved last night, scared of how he could feel her pulling away from him. Frightened of what was to come. He felt most of his still heart already knew, and the blow wouldn’t be too severe. However, this dragging out...

He stepped forward, grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the dagger loosely and turning it away as he moved to stand in front of her. She glanced up at him, then around, smiling self-consciously.

“Spike,” she murmured, reproachfully, but he merely smiled as well.

Leaning his head forward he rested his forehead to hers and Buffy closed her eyes, feeling the apprehension she had felt all day begin to gnaw at her more than ever. That dream she had had two nights ago... the vampiress’ hands on either side of her head, the noise her neck had made when it was twisted out of its fixture... it had taught her one valuable thing. She thought she knew what had been its core message, and there was a decision that had to be made. She had struggled with it ever since they woke up yesterday; but when they then had arrived at camp it seemed the grinding had become more ardent and it had been constant ever since she left his side earlier that morning, not being able to make up her mind. Now... with him close... it seemed she was about to. It pained her how much she suddenly knew it was right.

She brought her face down, away from him, and she could feel how he tensed.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began slowly, hearing how meek the words sounded and despising them for it, “there’s so much going on... Maybe it would be best if we...”

She trailed off.

“Right,” he mumbled, stepping back and she wavered, meeting his gaze.

Then something slowly hardened within her.

“I just think it’d be smarter, don’t you? I mean, there really is so much going on and it’s a distraction for you too, isn’t it?”

“Shagging?” he asked.

He had no idea how much that had stung her.

“Yes,” she bit back. “And everything...” she then had to add, averting her eyes as she felt the insecurity build itself much too quickly in them.

He clenched his jaws together. He hated that she was right. He hated that he knew her so damn well. He hated that he refused to twist her head so much it might get her killed out there. He hated that he loved her so much he had to bite down violently just to keep the tears back.

“And everything,” he silently confirmed and her gaze was in his again, a small need in them for reassurance.

For understanding.

And he hated the understanding he held for this decision. He wanted to ask her, tell her, demand of her that she chose him. Damned be all the consequences and possible, life-threatening injury. Perhaps it was madness, to think that they wouldn’t be able to stand out there and face all the forces of hell together without losing sight of the battle. They had fought side by side so many times... But he could sense something else, underlying the choice.

He trusted her to know what she wanted, and this was it. No disputing, no discussing. The choice was not his to make.

He reached up a hand and let it grace her cheek softly. She smiled an almost sad smile which wrenched his heart and then she nodded barely noticeably.

Stepping back she turned and quickly left the tent.

¤¤¤

She wouldn’t have been able to spend any time with him anyway, she told herself, because every single minute would go to preparing for combat. There was no use seeking refuge in his arms, because once she was there they weakened her to the point of never wanting to leave them. And there was another thing, but... she was unsure of it and chose to discard it for the time being. When it came to right now, she had to think that the only way he could give her strength was beside her, on arms length, fighting with her, showing her that he was there and would still be there once this threat was defeated.

Once she began to let the thought take over, her warrior self made sure that it found its rightful place as a soothing layer over her longing and silent regret.

The armor of self-preservation was intact and everyone around her began to notice the immediate change on her that evening at the meeting. She was relentless in the drilling of procedure and the plan which they were to follow. Camelia seconded everything she said and once Buffy was through she picked up where the senior slayer had left off.

They were going in a day early. They needed all the time they could get to thoroughly search the traitorous caves and do so safely and methodically.

A spark had been lit in the eyes of every slayer assembled and the atmosphere was high as everyone began to withdraw to their tents.

Buffy said goodnight to Angel and Cordy, who were staying up a bit longer as they had slept half the day. The Slayer couldn’t spot Spike as she headed out of the main tent, but as she wrapped her arms around her on her way to their sleeping quarters he filed in behind her before coming up to walk at her side. They hadn’t spoken in private since that afternoon and the stillness was thick with unpronounced words.

“Nice pep-talk,” he finally said and she smiled tentatively.

“You know I try,” she replied and he smirked, nodding as he brought one flap of the tent-opening to the side, allowing her to step in first.

He followed and for a moment they looked at each other before he turned away. He slipped off his duster and then pulled off his T before taking the cot to the right, which had yet to be slept on. She watched him, then proceeded with pulling her sweater over her head, taking off her pants almost hesitantly as she wasn’t sure if it might be better to keep any obstacle for temptation on. Sighing she brought out her pajama pants and put them on instead, brushing her hair she sat down on her cot.

“You asleep?” she whispered and there was no answer, which made her sigh again.

Putting the brush on the chair in between the cots she lay down, putting the covers on her and then pulling them over her head. She closed her eyes, certain that she wouldn’t be able to go to sleep and yet managing it within two minutes.

Spike woke more than once of her tossing and turning, murmuring incoherent sentences before drifting off into another lapse of peace. He wished there was something he could do to ease her restlessness, but thought that whatever he had to offer, she had discarded the rights of. He watched over her, thinking it might be enough, but feeling that it wasn’t.

The next morning they were headed for the Hellmouth and he couldn’t blame her for her nightmares.

He had a chill down his back at the thought and he couldn’t explain it. He felt as though they were being observed by cold stares that he couldn’t locate. The Ancients waited out there in dark and quiet for their time, and he had to wonder if slaying their sign for rising would truly be enough to stop them.

¤¤¤

“Why are you not dancing, daughter Maeve? I know a lot of unsouled who would kill to have you in their arms for a waltz or two?”

Maeve turned her head to the beautiful, dark-skinned vampiress who had just asked her the question.

“I will dance when I find it fitting,” she answered. “As I feel now I believe it to be anything but that. Indeed until the snow has melted in our orchard I shall not dance, nor shall I crave it,” she added and the other vampiress wrinkled her nose with rather obvious dislike.

“You cannot keep yourself locked up like this, daughter,” she then stated with a gentle pat on the other’s arm. “It is unhealthy.”

“I know perfectly well what you think of me, countess,” Maeve now replied, tone short and impatient. “You believe you can win me over with a few strokes of comfort, the show of approval where there is none. The only thing is that I see through your facade. That brick wall you keep around your thoughts crumbled before the wave I sent upon it and I have read your mind as though it was a journal handed to me by your own hands,” she now continued, her voice beginning to drip with loathing. “I think you would do best at keeping your paws to yourself. I have not, and shall never be in need of your advice. I lead an existence you may frown upon, but it is my choice. And not you – nor any of your friends – will ever be able to change my heart.”

The countess looked astounded as well as wretched. Maeve merely moved her arm out of the way from the woman’s hand, which seemed to have frozen on the spot from the shock, and then she gave a small curtsey.

“I hear my name called,” she excused herself, turning and leaving the vampiress behind.

“That was brave,” Theodore stated, joining at Maeve’s side as she tried to keep from fuming in front of the gathered guests. “Foolish, yet indeed very brave.”

“Speak not of things you do not know, Theo,” Maeve grumbled, walking out of the wide doors of the ballroom and up to the broad set of stairs leading to the second floor and beyond.

“Maeve,” he said gently, making her halt on the second step and then turn to face him. “Do not rush off without hearkening that which others tell. Can you not see that you are shutting yourself out, more and more, from our society?”

“I am a vampiress,” she answered, putting her chin a little in the air as she said the last word. “I need not hearken to anyone but me. Now YOU should listen, Theodore,” she added, taking one step down to better face him. “I know you know my heart. I feel when you move around upon the bridges connecting my memories. But I also know that you realized a long time ago there is no change to come within me. This is who I am, Theo. I shall never go back, not ever, to what I was.”

“It has been five hundred years, darling. Does it not sicken you?”

“Time is of no matter to me,” she answered, sounding tired as she turned from him and gathered up the skirts of her gown before she once more began to ascend the stairs. “It never has been,” she added, leaving him at the bottom of them staring after her.

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

Water’s running in the wrong direction

Got a feeling it’s a mixed-up sign

I can see it in my own reflection

Something funny ‘s going on inside my mind

Don’t know what, it’s pushing me higher

It’s a static from the floor below

And then it drops and catches like fire

It’s the sound of, it’s the sound of

It’s the sound of the underground

The beat of the drum goes round and round

-Girls Aloud, Sound of the Underground-

¤

Lesson the Twenty-Third

¤

“Milady.”

“Ree,” the princess smiled, nodding to the chair standing on her left and the other placed herself on it with graceful movements, looking out on the billowing sea of dancers filling the great hall before them.

“Have you been told?” Gabriella asked and the princess gave another nod.

“I knew you would not disappoint me, after Theodore’s most surprising failure,” she stated and Gabriella smirked.

“You should have kept him here from the very beginning, milady,” she remarked and the princess gave a short laugh.

“Indeed, I should have,” she agreed, waving at the vampire standing to the right of the platform which hosted the honorary seats as well as the small, silvered throne. “You seem to have taken pleasure in the task,” she added as the vampire she had signed for kneeled at her side with a silver tray holding her glass of blood.

She took it and sipped it as she glanced at the other vampiress, the vampire rising with a bow and returning to his previous position. Having not yet answered the question Gabriella was again observing the vampires enjoying themselves on the stretching dance floor.

“What of this silence?” the princess pressed.

“I was reliving the moment,” Gabriella replied with a sudden predatory glint in her icy blue eyes and the princess looked appreciative.

“Tell me,” she said, then she followed the hardening gaze of the other and watched as Maeve swiftly left the hall, Theodore following. “Ah, yes,” the princess murmured, looking once more at Gabriella. “Has she spoken to you?”

“No,” Gabriella answered, voice low. “I believe she never will again.”

“I should think you would be pleased by that.”

“Indeed, I should be,” the other mimicked her choice of words from before and the princess smiled again.

“Yes,” she nodded, sitting back on the throne and raising her glass to her lips, having another sip. “Do not worry, my dear. It is not long now. Not long at all.”

¤¤¤

Buffy looked around the monstrous interior of the cave, thinking she saw a dragon’s head in every last cliff or rock-formation. She wasn’t frightened; only on the edge and deliciously concentrated. The high she got from the adrenaline pushing through her was one of the best she knew. Save from...

Shutting the mere insinuation of that thought out of her head she drew a breath and turned around to face Spike, Camelia, Angel, Cordelia and twenty other slayers. Gin and Dinah headed up the two other search parties devoted to different caves, either holding groups of twenty-five slayers. Outside there were organized forces of nearly fifty more, ready to help in any way they might be needed.

“Empty,” Buffy now said.

Camelia stepped up to the ledge and gazed down into the darkness.

“Are you sure?” she asked and Buffy joined at her side, after another minute replying:

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

They headed back out and into the crater. Camelia signed negative for the waiting slayers in the pit and then her and Buffy’s group waited for Gin and Dinah’s respective to emerge out of their caves. Dinah was first. A negative. After another ten minutes Gin appeared with a negative as well.

They had searched the five largest caves first, continuing with the six closest to them. It was now nearing dawn and Buffy could feel the two vampires beginning to grow antsy. She was as well; she wanted to find the ground of the dragon tonight. She wanted to get the upper hand just once, and then squeeze that hand so tight that none of her enemies could squirm out of her hold.

“Alright, people,” she said. “Let’s get this show moving.”

They hiked up to the next cave, leaving them with four more to search – two of which would now be tended to by Gin and Dinah.

“It’s an hour ‘til the sun breaks that ridge,” Spike remarked, coming up at Buffy’s side and she glanced up at him, then nodded.

“I’m well aware,” she said. “We don’t get a move on and you’ll have to sleep with a rock for a pillow.”

He held her gaze and she smiled tryingly. The tension between them kept shifting. Sometimes their eyes met and suddenly she had trouble breathing with her heart acting up and the need to reach out and take his hand almost taking over. She was getting better at controlling it, though. But then there were the even more unnerving moments when it seemed he walked deliberately far behind, when he did nothing but follow her example and shield himself entirely away from her. She felt cold, then. Alone. And hated how her mind wouldn’t be thoroughly made up. She loved him – so how could it be? She simply had to leave it as it was for now, just for now; and somewhere deep down she knew he understood. He had to understand.

Now he returned her smile just as they entered the opening to the cave. It was seven times smaller than the last one and as they walked into it they were enclosed by walls in a room not wider than ten yards across, with twenty yards to the ceiling. It stretched before them into unknown darkness and none of them could tell if it ended or went on.

However, they didn’t hesitate as they continued. Cordelia, being the only one not endowed with night vision, held onto Angel unabashed, though slightly freaked.

“This is the worst part,” she murmured and Angel put an arm around her reassuringly.

Suddenly Buffy halted, Camelia stopping at her side.

“What?” the younger slayer whispered.

“I heard something,” Buffy replied.

In the shadows there was a soft flicker and Buffy stared at it before her eyes widened.

“Get down!” she screamed, throwing herself to the side and hearing the others following just as fire licked over the spot where they had all just stood.

It dispersed and Buffy slowly raised her head.

“Everybody alright?!” she cried and there were quiet coughs from around her and then silent calls of affirmation.

“No,” she then heard a voice she recognized to belong to a slayer called Josie. “Karen’s dead,” she added and Buffy closed her eyes.

“Alright, everybody who can move – move!” she yelled, getting to her feet and turning around just as there was a scraping noise coming through the blackness.

Something was moving.

“Scratch that!” she shouted and heard them all get back down as she slowly moved to face the assailant.

She could hear it breathing and suddenly small flames rose out of its nostrils, sending flickering light over its face and Buffy had to draw a breath. It sure as hell was a dragon. Its scales were shifting in black and purple, its head was as big as a car and its eyes now rested in the Slayer’s with the most peculiar expression in them – it looked accusing.

“Who dares to enter my domains?” it asked, its voice so deep it made the walls shake and small stones broke loose, skittering over the rocks.

Buffy sensed Spike right behind her, then Angel, Cordelia and finally Camelia.

Buffy was sort of stumped. She had thought that there’d be a drawing of the sword and then a very hard fight to the death – she had not expected there would be communication of any kind. Some of the tales she had read had spoken of talking dragons, but she had gotten the feeling that this was supposed to be more of the growling kind. How wrong she apparently had been.

Now, what does one say to a beast the size of a truck?

“Buffy,” she finally got out as reply to its question.

“The vampire slayer,” Spike added, his voice forceful and she felt the need to smile, but didn’t. He added: “Who the hell are you?”

She shook her head, giving him a shove with one elbow to shut up as a low snarl escaped the dragon.

“I know only of one, not five,” the dragon stated. “I cannot let any other pass.”

“What do you mean ‘any other’?” Angel spoke up.

“I have been waiting,” the dragon admonished, eyes back in Buffy’s, who felt the need for her sword swiftly evaporate.

There would be no battle fought today.

“Leave,” she said, gaze still in the mighty creature’s before her.

“No bloody way,” Spike gritted out.

“Not going anywhere,” Angel agreed and Cordelia grunted her affirmation.

Camelia stayed quiet and Buffy knew why. The other slayer could feel what she felt, a sensation drifting through the air of what would come to pass if those not welcome in the cave didn’t get out – and fast.

“Lead them,” Buffy murmured, knowing they all knew to whom she was directing the words. “Take them out of here – now.”

The dragon’s eyes watched as the slayers not too badly hurt stood, helping their wounded comrades to their feet and hesitating at the sight of those forever fallen.

“We’ll come back for them,” Camelia said, having drawn back and supporting a badly burned slayer as she looked back at Buffy. “Be safe,” the younger whispered and then began to make the others way out of there.

Once the sound of their feet had silenced Buffy asked:

“Why have you waited?”

“There are things in this world that have always been, and always will be. Good and evil shall always battle each other. It has been so since the dawn of day and the only thing that can ever change... is which side is winning,” the dragon replied and Buffy frowned.

“Right,” she sighed, taking a step forward and having Spike’s hand grab her arm in a hard grip.

She looked back at him, his eyes baring the most ardent plea and loudest protest. She gave him a small smile, pulling her arm out of his loosening grip and having his eyes fill with rising alarm. She turned back to the dragon and began to walk forward.

Spike thought he was about to rip in half. He couldn’t do this again. They couldn’t be divided when the final hour arrived, no matter in what guise it came. Not one more time!

“No!” he said, making Buffy stop dead in her tracks and the dragon’s gaze meet his. “You’ll let me pass or I’ll...”

The being waited patiently and Buffy looked over her shoulder when the end of the threat didn’t form on the vampire’s lips. Spike knew there was nothing he could say that would strike even an ounce of fear in what stood in front of him. He prayed he had somehow made his point anyway.

The dragon watched him in thickening silence, then turned its head and let a small ball of fire shoot out of its nostrils, hitting a torch hanging in a fixture fastened to the cave wall. It blazed instantly, spreading light over the assembly.

“Take that,” the dragon said, looking at Buffy. “You will need it.”

Angel wanted to say something, but knew that there was nothing he could say that would prevent what was happening. He would have to stay behind, no matter what. Then Buffy’s eyes met his and he drew from the calm in them the reassurance that he wanted.

“Do you wish him with you?” the dragon asked with a glance at Spike and Buffy looked up at it, then turned her head to look at the vamp.

“Yes,” she finally answered and there was a prolonged pause.

“Then you may pass,” the dragon stated, holding Spike’s gaze in a warning that told of the gratitude he should feel toward the creature.

Spike felt it alright, and bowed his head in reverence. The dragon seemed to give the hint of a smile. Spike walked up to Buffy and she gave him a look of reprimand, though he could see the thankful and happy expression in her gaze and he merely gave her a smirk. Then he stripped it as they began to walk passed the being. Spike grabbed the torch, and they shared one more look before they braced themselves and continued into the darkness.

¤¤¤

“Did you enjoy the ball?”

Maeve looked up, meeting the eyes of her ruler and then turning away as she unhooked her earrings and put them on her dresser.

“I found it quite macabre,” she grumbled, unclasping her necklace before looking back at the princess, still decked out in her gown and glitter and showing nothing but her regal air – as always. “I suppose you wouldn’t even know why.”

“Darling Maeve, you underestimate me,” the other smirked. “You are still grieving, why else would you be wearing that horrid dress? Not an ounce of color on it. This ball was to celebrate our city, that another century is about to pass with it under my reign.”

“Within your clutches, more like,” Maeve huffed.

“Do not speak so,” the princess warned softly. “I might think you were rebellious, and would have to cast you away.”

“Do not presume to know me,” Maeve shot. “And do not make accusations or threats where neither is to be had.”

“Calm yourself,” the other smiled, coming into the room as Maeve sat down and grabbed her comb, beginning to run it through her hair. “I wished not to arouse anger or discontentment,” the princess soothed, taking the comb gently and picking up the movement as she carefully slipped it through Maeve’s auburn locks. “I wished only to stir the joy which rests in all hearts these few precious days...”

Maeve’s eyes widened, her head turning to the other who wore the emotionless smile tainted with the detachment which seemed to always surround the royal form. The princess drew the comb through the other’s strands one final time before placing it on the small table before her. Standing back she took to observing her subject and Maeve rose, looking disbelieving.

“So soon?” she finally asked and the princess gave a slight nod.

“All is ready and the clock is counting the very hours as we speak. I pray, daughter, that you let your mind change your will.”

“It never has managed to before, your highness,” Maeve replied, tone dry and without respect, making the princess give her a glare.

“Watch yourself,” she hissed and Maeve smiled.

“Forgive me,” she then said with a slight bow of the head.

The princess brought a hand up to the other’s cheek, placing it there tenderly as their eyes met once more.

“You are precious to me,” she said. “You always will be. But I cannot have you disobeying me.” Maeve gave another bow of the head and the princess smiled again, nodding. “It is time for rest now. Tomorrow proves a whole new dawn,” the princess stated, gathering up her skirts and heading for the door of the room. “Isaiah was a traitor,” she said as she went. “You should join me in rejoice that his existence has been terminated.”

Maeve clenched her jaws together, listening to her door close and keeping down a low growl.

¤¤¤

“Is everything ready?”

“Milady,” the vampire bowed in affirmation.

“Glorious,” she smiled. “We are entering a new age, Patrick... I have waited patiently and now I feel my being rush toward the prize. Finally.”

¤¤¤

“Do you even know where the bleeding hell we’re going?” Spike muttered as they carefully made their way around another bend in the narrowing passageway.

“I... think so,” Buffy mumbled, her hand tracing the rough wall as she kept moving forward.

“How comforting,” he grumbled.

“Hey, would you stop it? You’re making me nervous!” she said and he cocked an eyebrow.

“NOW you’re nervous?” he asked and she rolled her eyes at him before she slowed down her steps. “What is it?” he wondered and then she stopped.

As he turned his head from her profile and to what she was staring at, his jaw dropped.

Before them the passageway opened up into a high-ceiled cave and in the cave wall in front of them towered a carving they both knew well. Spike blinked, taken aback. Buffy felt her heart begin to beat harder.

“It’s the gateway,” she said, excitement filling her voice and he watched as she entered the cave before he slowly followed. “It’s the entrance. It’s here. We found it.”

“’Found it’?” he asked. “We didn’t bloody find anything, Slayer. They wanted us here and believe you me, when that thing opens and they come pouring out... This is NOT the place you wanna be, alright? We need to leave.”

“No.”

“We need to leave right now!” he exclaimed, grabbing her shoulders and having her look at him. “If we stay here we’re as good as dead,” he added, her gaze in his and he noticed the conviction in them, telling him that she wasn’t going to budge an inch off this spot.

He let her go, really not getting it.

She reached out her hand and grabbed the torch from him, her eyes still in his before she turned around and approached the wall.

“What are you doing?” he asked, walking in her footsteps and then halting when she suddenly tossed the torch away from her, its fire gracing the carving and immediately an eerie glow slowly spread in all the dents of it. “Buffy...?”

She stepped back, tilting her head and gazing up.

Angel had been right. There was an invitation written on it. And there was a poem and a warning, all told in the dead language. And Buffy understood it. Spike observed her back and then looked up at the wall as well, realizing why she was taking it in with such interest.

“’Inside lie the answers you seek – find them’,” he recited. “Sound simple enough.”

“Yeah, if you skip the last part of the inscription,” Buffy remarked, glancing at the foreboding sentence:

‘Death shall be the release.’

Then, without knowing for sure where the words came from, she said:

“Sithir dohr makhora sahahleth.”

There was a soft rumble, as though from faraway thunder, before the carving began to crack in the middle. After another few moments the two parts started to open to what lie behind it. Spike prepared himself for what was to come, but as the movement of the doors stopped and the loudness of it ebbed away, there was nothing left but an all-devouring stillness.

“What now?” he asked and Buffy turned around to face him.

She looked at him for a long moment, then gave a shrug and simply headed into the black un-known.

He didn’t hesitate before he followed.

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

Sometimes you’ll picture me

I’m walking too far ahead

You’re calling to me

I can’t hear what you said

Then you said

Go slow

I fall behind

If you’re lost you can look

And you will find me

Time after time

If you fall I will catch you

I’ll be waiting

Time after time

-Jewel, Time After Time-

¤

Lesson the Twenty-Fourth

¤

“What happened?”

“Oh, my God?!”

“Is everyone alright?”

The cries erupted from the gathered slayers outside the cave as Camelia and her posse stumbled outside. The sky was light blue and the sun was just getting ready to rise over the horizon. Camelia turned her head, looking back into the cave, then helped the girl she was practically carrying to sit down on the ground as a few of the other slayers swarmed to with medical equipment.

“What happened?” Gin asked, coming up to Camelia and looking around at those fallen. “Where’s the rest?”

“I haven’t even had time to do a headcount...” Camelia murmured. “How many are missing?”

“Six, at least. Lost?”

“Dead,” Camelia grumbled and Gin’s eyes grew.

“So that’s it? Where’s Buffy? Is she...” She trailed off, realization filling her gaze. “She’s still in there?!” she exclaimed and Camelia nodded.

“I don’t know anything. I don’t know what’s happened or where she is or what’s going on. I just... I don’t know,” she said, moving into the crowd and counting the wounded to be nine. “This is a disaster,” she mumbled. “How are we gonna be able to help her now?”

¤¤¤

They had been walking for hours. At first there had been a road which seemed to have been a creation of someone’s or other’s labour, but huge chunks of it had fallen away into steep canyons which appeared out of nowhere on first the right and then the left side. This meant the Slayer and the Vamp had to climb, slide and inch their way over the instable parts.

The path never went uphill, though. It flattened out in more places than one, but it never rose, only turned downhill which took them ever deeper underground. The air was surprisingly clear, to then suddenly drop away, making it difficult for Buffy to breathe properly. The first time her breathing began to grow raspy Spike tried to make her stop and rest, but she waved the proposition away, saying between gasps that it was more important for her to move onto another spot which held a new batch of fresh air for her to take in.

Now she stopped, leaning against a nearby rock and Spike did as her, looking out over the remarkable view which had taken over their right side half an hour earlier: small mountains contained in the cave seemed to have been tossed out haphazardly over an area that was so big they couldn’t see the end of it. Blue and black and grey they rose in peaks and valleys as far as their night vision could reach.

“This holy city,” Buffy said, desperately wishing she had a bottle of water. Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Is it supposed to be at the centre of this damn planet, or what?” she added and he smirked.

“Probably,” he replied.

She held his gaze, then softly admonished:

“I’m glad you’re with me.”

“Good,” he merely said, but his smile warmed. Then he looked in the direction they were going: “We should get moving. Might need to get some actual rest and... this isn’t the perfect location, is it?”

She shook her head, and he gazed at her for a moment longer before getting himself out of it. “Right,” he added, meaningfully.

She held out a hand and he hesitated, then huffed – though he wore the traces of a smile – as he walked up and took it, pulling her to her feet. She smiled slightly as well, and then they let go, commencing their journey once more.

Two hours later Buffy grumbled. She wasn’t tired, but impatient. She didn’t feel like going for an edition of Lord of the Rings, part four, she simply wanted to reach their goal.

“Perhaps it isn’t even there,” she muttered. “If so much up until now has been off – maybe this place doesn’t even exist.”

“And that gateway back there still stands because?” he inquired, at her side. “And that dragon’s bloody guarding it in case of?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I just wish we could reach it already. All this trotting about is getting really bo-...!”

The last word came out an interrupted yell as she suddenly slipped and slid down the steep edge of the path. She screamed, then her hands grabbed onto an out-shooting rock and she drew a sharp breath, looking up and meeting Spike’s startled gaze as he leaned out and reached down.

“Grab my hand.”

“I’ll fall,” she got out, her grasp already slipping.

“I won’t let you,” he said and she rested her eyes in his, feeling the truth of those words nestle into her and the faith coming from them had her arm shoot up and grab a tight hold around his almost as though it had a will of its own.

He pulled her up and she found herself nearly chest-to-chest with him, tilting her head back and eyeing him. He was about to say something. She was as well. Then they both glanced away.

“Eh... thanks,” she mumbled and he smirked crookedly.

“I’m a shout away,” he said, stepping passed her and she bit her jaws together, thinking a thanks much too weak after someone saves your life – but not able to locate the proper words.

She turned and followed him in the quiet. Wanting things to not be so complicated.

“Should we get some sleep?” she asked and he nodded, walking up to a formation which was flat and formed in a way that was as though nature had meant it for a weary being to sit back upon, taking a seat he made himself more comfortable as she watched him a few feet away.

She swallowed, looking around and feeling at a loss as to how she would able to get any sort of rest in a place like this. She wasn’t squeamish, but lying down on sharp pebbles didn’t exactly evoke her thought of peaceful dreams.

He opened his eyes and watched her for a long minute, her body-language unsure where she kept turning her head in search of a good spot to rest.

“This rock isn’t too big,” he said and she met his gaze; he finished: “But you don’t seem to complain about size as of late, so maybe...?”

She smiled another small smile, coming up to him and pausing, unsure of how best to make it relaxing for the both of them. He was semi-seated and now he opened his arms, inviting her to take a seat between his legs and she did, leaning her back against his chest and when he tentatively put his arms

around her she closed her eyes.

“Guess you got to have a rock for a pillow after all, huh?” she mumbled and he smiled as well, holding her tenderly and hoping that he would be able to fight off the ghosts haunting her dreams in the manner he hadn’t the previous night.

So this is how one gets some rest in a place like this, she thought, a satisfied smile on her lips as she began to sink deeper and deeper into his embrace.

¤¤¤

‘Stand up,’ a cold whisper echoed in her head and she jerked awake, disoriented for but a moment until her eyes were caught in the gleaming green of the vampire looming over her.

She realized Spike was awake as well. She sat up, scooting away from him and feeling how everything inside of her seemed to have been surrounded by a numbing gel as the adrenaline stayed at bay, her heart beat keeping its steadiness and there was no emotion stirring within her other than controlled calm, as though she had been prepared for this.

She rose to her feet, Spike not late to follow, both of them facing the tall vampire before them and then noting the two more that were waiting further down the path. They were dressed in long, black capes and underneath them hinted dark-purple uniforms, indicating they were some sort of soldiers. The beings seemed to be cut from the same mold, their faces entrancing with their quiet beauty, their gazes unrelenting. There was a sense of their immense strength even in their stances, but the Slayer merely straightened her back and let her own power take up its required room.

The eyes in the vampire that had woken them glittered as it caught in Buffy’s, she thought she saw a trace of the same humor in them th at she had gotten from Isaiah, and then the vampire said:

“I am Patrick, head of her majesty’s royal guard.”

Neither Buffy nor Spike knew what was expected of them and so they kept silent, and waited. They needn’t wait very long.

“You are to come with me.” He turned around and began to walk toward the other two, Buffy and Spike looking at each other, and then following him. “Sebastian, Jeremy,” Patrick said to the two waiting and they stepped aside as the Slayer and Vamp approached, proceeding in their wake once they had passed.

They rounded a massive cliff, and before their eyes, imbedded into a stretching valley twice the size of Sunnydale, lay the glittering lights of a city. In the distance they could see the outline of a great castle, shooting its towers and walls up out of the ground to watch over its loyal subjects below. Parts of it were cut out of the very cave itself and its stones clung, awesome and grand, to its origin.

Buffy could scarcely believe it was real.

Patrick led the way down to the main gate, situated in the high wall running along the city limits.

“Perhaps they’re not all powerful after all,” Buffy murmured to Spike as she looked at the force of protection.

“The wall was built nearly two-and-a-half thousand years ago,” Patrick stated and the Slayer almost jumped, but he didn’t seem upset, merely matter-of-fact. “Her highness had some trouble with trolls,” he added and then halted before the three-story high gate, raising his hands.

As he lowered them, the gate slowly began to open and he proceeded forward. Buffy felt as though her limbs had frozen and she couldn’t move. It wasn’t fear, it was something much deeper. The evil on the other side of that gate seemed to press in on her from every corner. It slithered up her back and wrapped around her neck, making it hard for her to breathe or even think. It was overpowering and like nothing she had ever felt before. Then her eyes landed in the questioning ones of Patrick and she knew that there was no way she could show any emotion before him.

The shell of ice thawed and she moved forward, beginning to walk behind the vampire once more.

She glanced at Spike, but his jaw line was tight and he seemed focused on what was going on around them. The city they entered looked like something out of a town in the nineteenth century. The houses were low, three-stories and were built together. The roofs were made of thick straw, but the cobblestone street on which the party walked was surprisingly clean.

No sign of movement or other existence showed anywhere on their entire march up to the enormous castle. The buildings on their right and left changed from three-story to four-story, the finish and carvings growing more intricate. And then they gave way for larger estates, astoundingly enough with aspiring green lawns reaching up to the heavy, black-painted iron fences which ran around them.

Trees grew along the streets here, their branches bearing flowers a gentle white and pink, and the gardens were supporting rows of bursting color. Just another thing for Buffy not to believe. She couldn’t grasp the reality of this. She was walking straight into the den of the lion, and she hadn’t expected it to actually be striking in quite this way.

Spike was thinking the same thing. He hadn’t heard much of the Holy City, other than that it was hidden and that it was miserable if you weren’t born into it – he was beginning to reexamine the meaning of that word. He felt the power emanating from the woman on his left, and knew that it would be unthinkable that the other three vampires didn’t feel it as well. He was proud of her in that moment, perhaps more so than he ever had been, because he knew that no matter what was up ahead of them from this point on she was ready to face it. Even though he wasn’t certain that he was.

There was something oppressing about the city, and it weighed down on his soul so that it felt misplaced within him. The sensation grew stronger the nearer the castle they got. The high, wooden doors opened as they drew closer and they could simply continue inside. The moment they stepped onto the black marble floor of the breathtaking hall, the feeling subdued within him – but it left an uncomfortable residue.

He did not like this place.

They proceeded through the hall, their treads echoing distantly off the deep-green painted walls. Buffy tilted her head back slightly and gazed up at the ceiling, at least fifteen stories above her head, and she gaped at the fine painting portraying a naked man and woman, standing together, their expressions both confused and tempted as they looked upon the being before them. She was dressed in a black, flowing cape and a dark-purple gown, her raven locks reaching her waist and her face wearing a gentle smile as she leaned forward, the human woman’s hand in hers, the vampiress about to kiss it. The depicting sent a shiver down Buffy’s back and she turned her head forward as Patrick halted before a pair of heavily carved wooden doors, its dents having been painted silver. It was an astonishing celebration to the art that it was, and Buffy felt the need to run her fingers over it. She kept it back as Patrick paused. Sebastian and Jeremy left without a sound and then Patrick opened the doors, stepping back and bidding the Slayer and the Vamp to step forth.

They did so in unison; entering another hall, though much larger and incredibly beautiful. At the far end they saw someone was seated on a chair which was placed on a platform running the length of that wall. Buffy knew who it was. The space between where Buffy and Spike now stood, and the place of the other, was a little over three-hundred yards.

‘Come here.’

She knew that voice.

Looking at Spike it was clear that he had heard it as well.

They both began to walk across the floor. It was also made out of marble, but the black was patterned with a light purple. Along the sides of the hall rose grand marble pillars at an interval of twenty yards and the walls were hung with huge pieces of fabric, like oversized banners, all carrying prints or embroideries. Their colors were a consistent mix of red, gray, black, purple, blue and green and they didn’t do much to elevate any sort of homeliness to the interior. It was, none the less, a testament to power and a wealth Buffy had not witnessed with her own two eyes.

They neared the platform, and Buffy concluded that she had been right when thinking it to host a throne. It, in turn, wasn’t what the Slayer had expected. She had thought it would reflect the pompous grandeur of everything else she had seen thus far, but the back of it was so low she couldn’t see it, as it was obscured behind the one seated on it, and though it carried carvings as well, the silver of it was matted.

Buffy glanced at the faces surrounding the platform. They stared at her, reminding her of the dream in which they had been standing at the foot of her bed, and the feeling she had had then attacked her now – that they were granting her some of their short-ranged patience and that she should never take it for granted.

Then she moved her gaze into the one’s before her. She was struck with the fact that she was looking upon the being depicted in the ceiling of the entrance hall. Now that being wore the touch of an ironic smile, her eyes taking in the form of the Slayer as though she was something as foreign as the sunlight in this place – which of course she was – and then the former gave a slight bow of the head.

“Miss Summers,” she said.

“Please,” Buffy replied, carrying the same sarcasm, “Buffy should do fine.”

“In this society we do not call each other by one’s first name until we feel we know each other well enough for the privilege,” the princess stated.

“I figure you know me well enough,” Buffy shot and the princess’ smile broadened a tad.

“My subjects call me a variety of names, all having to do with showing their respect,” she said.

“Milady,” an older vampire murmured and she smiled yet again.

“Like so,” she stated with a wave at the man and there were scattered laughs from around. “What is it, Mathias?” she then asked and he bowed before replying:

“This is most unusual,” he said, a hard glance at the two new-comers as he added: “They should bow and not presume to befoul your holiness with their unworthy gaze!”

“Easy,” the princess raised one hand, looking back at Buffy. “These circumstances are anything but usual,” she added, lowering her arm. “I shall have none but my closest kin calling me by my name,” she then stated. “It is how it always has been. But as my guests you may call me by my other – Clara.”

“Milady!”

“So have I said and so shall it be. Now stand down,” Clara stopped him and he bowed, though it was reluctantly, before stepping back.

“Why am I here?” Buffy demanded.

“To the point,” the other nodded. “One of your trademarks, I believe. At least in situations such as this.”

“I’m...”

“My dear,” Clara interrupted, Buffy feeling as though she had received a slap on the hand for misconduct. “I wish your every comfort,” the princess added, giving a small gesture with one hand and having a handsome, black-haired vampire approach her. He bowed and she said: “Theodore, show... Buffy... to her room. No,” she stopped Spike as he moved to follow, “you stay here.”

Buffy paused, her eyes meeting Spike’s before she turned away and went in the footsteps of Theodore. Spike watched her go, then looked back at the vampiress who eyed him keenly.

“What name do you wish to go by?” she asked. “Spike or William?”

He clenched his jaws together and she smiled wickedly before she rose, the purple velvet of her gown falling in heavy waves about her legs as she moved down the two steps of the platform, approaching him. She stopped right before him and he concluded that she wasn’t more than an inch taller than Buffy, though the princess’ blue eyes were cold and unforgiving, holding his harshly.

“You poor, weak, fool,” she murmured, putting her hand to his chest. “I should help you rid yourself of it,” she added and he stared at her, then grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand away. “Pathetic,” she grumbled, then looked at his hand still gripping her.

With another slight smile she easily pulled free and he kept from wavering in his growing dislike of the creature before him. He could sense the disdain she held for him.

“You are not a vampire any more,” she hissed. “I believe what I am feeling goes deeper than disdain.” He blinked in surprise. “But all things change with time,” she added, calming herself. “And I shall give you a chance to prove me wrong. Patrick,” she turned to the other vampire, “show William to the East wing. He will have the Harper suite.”

Patrick gave a nod and Spike kept his gaze in the princess’ for another few seconds, then turned and followed the other.

Clara took her seat again, watching as they went, a pleased smirk on her fine lips.

“Milady,” Mathias said and she nodded.

“I know. It is as it should be... Is everyone gathered?”

“They arrived an hour ago, your highness... They wait for you in the parlor.”

“Perfect,” she replied. “Just in time for dinner.”

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

Time ain’t nothing but time

It’s a verse with no rhyme

And it all comes down to you

And change ain’t nothing but change

Just the faces and names

But you know we’re gonna make it through

I’m gonna hold you

‘til it hurts

Gonna be the shoulder

That you’re leaning on

I’ll be standing here

For the next one-hundred years

If it all should end tonight

I’ll know it was worth the fight

We’ll be standing here

For the next one-hundred years

I’ll believe

When you don’t believe

In anything

-Bon Jovi, Next One-Hundred Years-

¤

Lesson the Twenty-Fifth

¤

Buffy felt uncomfortable in the gown she was wearing. It was made of dark green silk and simply beautiful, but looking around the long dining room table at the vampiress’ seated with stiff backs, honorably chatting with each other, she felt awkward. She would have rather worn her pants and shirt, but they had been much too dirty to even consider. A vampiress by the name of Ophelia, wearing a long, dark-purple dress with a black apron, had declared herself the maid who would be tending to Buffy, and the Slayer had heard the dislike the female held for the task. She had snorted when Buffy had said she didn’t know where to start with the different layers of clothes which had been laid out on her bed, and then she had roughly helped her get ready.

Now the corset cut into Buffy’s ribs and she felt entirely out of the mood for dinner. Wondering if she would even be able to stomach whatever would be put before her. She prayed it wasn’t a bowl of blood or a plate filled with dead rats or something gruesome that would have her throat turn inside out. It was the last thing she needed.

Ever since she first had straightened her posture and begun the descent to the large dining room, she had felt the eyes of those she encountered taking her in with suspicion, incredulity and at times a breath of rage that iced its way into her. She wasn’t welcome here, despite what the princess said. Buffy had to wonder, looking around at the assembled for the feast, if the princess had such control over every last vampire there, that she could know for certain they wouldn’t simply turn on her “guest” and bite her to death.

Perhaps that was the plan, though. A moment of weakness and they would all be on her.

She glanced at Spike. He was wearing clothes of eighteenth century fashion. His blue frock fitted across his muscular chest and his pants snug, ending right below his knees, giving way for black stockings and low, black shoes. On any other man she would have smirked at the change in appearance, but she was left with a slight quickening of her heart when she first laid eyes on him. He looked like a pirate about to shed the disguise for the evening and run away with his loot... He seemed more at ease than when they arrived, but the watchfulness in his gaze told her that he was far from relaxed.

She wanted to talk to him, but the walls seemed to literally have ears in this place and she wondered when and if she would even get the chance. Their rooms lay a mere staircase from each other, and she felt both grateful and alarmed by the fact. There could be no sleep-overs, she couldn’t show her dependence on him or she feared he would be taken from her in the blink of an eye.

Clara was wearing purple again; it seemed it was the color of the kingdom since every guard wore it and every last servant as well. Buffy had been surprised at the discovery, thinking the princess too self-absorbed to allow anyone else to wear the same color as her – but it seemed it dealt with homeland pride and it was clear there was a lot of that to go around.

Theodore, a quiet vampire who hadn’t uttered a word when bringing Buffy to her quarters, had waited in the entrance hall: the room in which Buffy had landed after descending an innumerable set of staircases and sought her way through a few hallways earlier in the evening. Her room was situated at least ninety stories above ground and she had been grateful for her sense of location or she was sure she’d never have been able to find her way back down without help.

Theodore had held out an arm and she had looked at it, questioning for a second, and then the gesture became obvious and she had moved her hand, placing it on the back of his. She almost wanted to laugh at how this advanced breed of killing-machines still clung to customs which felt ancient to her.

The next moment her choice of words rang through her head and the urge for merriment faded rapidly.

She was in the Holy City of the Ancients – had she expected anything less than formality and age-old tradition?

Theodore had escorted her through the entrance hall and up to one of the smaller doors in its left wall. It was opened by a guard standing on the other side and as they walked through it, he closed it behind them with a nod to Theodore. Buffy felt a slight shock-wave of nervousness tear through her as she could hear the lowered mumbling from a group of at least twenty. Theodore had brought her to the wide opening which led into a large room, though it was much smaller in scale than any hall. It had a big fireplace and was decorated with paintings and old furniture. It seemed almost cozy, had it not presently been the habitat for a flock of murderous creatures, all of which now turned their chilled gazes on the newcomer.

Theodore had bowed to his princess, then backed away from the Slayer.

Clara had smirked.

“You clean up quite well,” she had said. “Everyone – this is, as her wish is to be informal, Buffy,” she paused, smiling again as she added: “The vampire slayer.”

“Why, milady, you certainly do have your way of spoiling ones apatite,” a colored vampiress murmured, glaring at Buffy.

“Is it going to sit with us?” another spoke up, sounding appalled. “At the table? Really, my darling, you cannot be serious.”

Clara gave the latter a silencing look and then stated:

“This mortal and her servant are my guests. You should not speak so in front of her.”

Buffy felt her blood run into a boiling fury at the condescending tone of the other, and even more so at her low labeling of Spike.

“Ay, indeed,” a red-haired vampire huffed. “It might hurt its feelings,” he added and the others laughed until Clara brought her palm down hard against the table at which she was standing.

“Lorithal sandelirh colithar nuhr! Sahah lorith leth!” she said, the words flowing in and out of each other, her voice heavy with anger and it seemed to silence even the roar of the flames in the fireplace.

Buffy recognized the dead language, but to her dismay she couldn’t interpret it any longer. Whatever had enabled her to enter this realm through understanding it, had obviously left her the moment she did.

“Milady,” the red-haired bowed deeply and Clara smiled again just as Spike stepped into the room. “Ah,” she nodded and Buffy could see the small flicker of growing annoyance in every pair of eyes in the room as they fastened on the bleached blonde. “Now we may proceed to the dining room,” Clara added and they had all gathered their things up.

Buffy had been glad for the distraction, her eyes fastened on Spike’s back where he had walked in front of her. The velvet of the jacket he had on looked soft and she longed to stroke her cheek against it, then she pushed the thought away in irritation and impatience with herself.

She knew she had managed to block whatever road there was that lead into her brain, and she could feel Clara clawing on the obstacle, demanding entrance. The Slayer refused to give into any plea, any painful attack. It had been the worst when she first stood before the princess in the great hall. Now it came in waves, and Buffy knew that the princess was waiting for that unguarded moment that would allow her to slip inside.

Buffy wouldn’t let there be any of those.

They had now been waiting for the food for nearly an hour, though Buffy got the feeling that this was merely procedure, that the vampires around her thought nothing more of it than extra time to socialize.

She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since she sat down, but she had gotten all the more chance to observe the ones around the table. She could smell their age in the air. It was a slightly husky scent which told of eons of knowledge and intelligence resting within them. Ruthlessness, bloodlust and calculation seemed to sleep just beneath the mask of every last one of them and Buffy felt parts of it constantly directed at her.

None of them trusted that they were safe, she realized. They weren’t in any way afraid, content in their clear superiority, but through surprise she knew that she could take at least one of them down and all of them despised the fact that if they didn’t watch their back – it could be they.

Finally servants filed from the two doors at the short end of the room, carrying silver trays with a plate each. The first two walked to the end of the table and the others followed, each serving a vampire by putting the plate on the spot before them. Buffy barely dared to look at was what on hers, but when she noticed that it was grilled meat, regular potatoes and salad she drew a small sigh of relief.

Grabbing her silverware as the rest of them did she began eating, feeling how utterly famished she was.

The vampires had been served raw steak and were now being poured blood into their glasses. Buffy kept her eyes away from their food, knowing that she had to get her own down. She ate too fast, gulping down the water she had received.

“You’ll get a stomach ache,” a young vampiress whispered, her face not looking older than a sixteen year olds though she of course was far from that. “Always cut small pieces and chew them carefully or you’ll be in great pain in the morning,” she added meaningfully and Buffy was completely taken aback by the actually concerned look on her face.

“Bianca, dear,” the red-haired vampire, seated next to her, reprimanded. “She is human, as you may recall, and can eat that vile feeding without so much as catching her breath in between bites.”

“Oh, but isn’t that YOUR preferred way of dining?” Bianca shot with a smirk and he smiled, leaning down and kissing her shoulder before turning back to the vampiress seated to his left.

Buffy watched the exchange and Bianca turned back to her with a small smile on.

“I forget you are alive, forgive me. Eating too quick does terrible things to our intestines,” she sighed and Buffy’s eyebrows rose.

The friendliness went on.

“Well, I think you’re alone in forgetting who I am,” Buffy pointed out and Bianca smiled again.

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t forget WHO you are, merely WHAT you are,” she said. “And...”

“Bianca,” Clara’s voice rang over the talking of the ensemble and Bianca’s head shot up, self-consciously.

“Milady?” she said.

“Come here,” the princess replied and Bianca had an unhappy expression on her face as she rose and stepped around her chair to approach the head end of the table, at which the other was seated.

Buffy concentrated her hearing on the two, but there was too much static created by the other guests that she couldn’t make the exchange out. She sighed, sitting back on her chair and looking blankly on her emptied plate. She was exhausted; both mentally and physically. Everything was still too new for her mind to fully comprehend, the extent of it too immeasurable. How was it that she was still alive?

She wished she could be alone with the princess, and question her motives. She got the feeling there were answers to be had, if she could only get the chance to seek them. But in this crowd she felt like a scrutinized and appraised piece of glass, and should the interest in her suddenly fade she would be smashed into obliteration.

Suddenly there was a frozen wind running through her, making her look up, trying to find its origin. When she turned her head toward Clara’s seat her eyes caught in two icy blues standing to the princess’ right. Buffy drew a breath, not able to keep back the fact of her recognition of this new vampiress. It was she who had been on her balcony... She who had killed Isaiah. Buffy’s hand went involuntarily to her throat, the sound of her own neck crackling entering her brain. The vampiress rested her eyes in the Slayer’s with a mad glaze in them, almost triumphant. A slight smile on her mouth. Then Clara said something and the other turned her head to her, listening intently.

Buffy got a grip on herself, looking away. She couldn’t believe how slow these beings ate. They had barely gotten through half their steaks. By the look of it she’d have to be in that room for...

The doors opened again, the servants bustling through with carafes of more blood.

Spike glanced at the one serving him, not getting any form of eye-contact. The servants cleared the plates away, though most of them were still half-filled with food there were no protests made, and then they left as quickly as they had reappeared.

He was astounded that vampires were actually serving vampires. In all his time he’d never seen anything like it. Being part of a gang, suffering under a leader, that was one thing – but to pamper about like this... Truly astonishing. The princess must have ordained herself some rather heavy respect to be able to pull all of it off. Her city, her court, her ruling – all of it spoke for a character made of stone and when he looked at her – that was what he saw. She seemed as cut out of the cave wall as her castle was, and still he must admit that she intrigued him. Her thirst for power and her securing of it was a tale he would enjoy listening to.

However, the intrigue stopped far away from attraction. She was beautiful and he was most certain that she could spin anyone’s head as good as the next, but she was also lethal – not only to the woman he loved, but to himself as well.

“I’ve heard tales of you,” the vampiress to his right whispered in his ear and he blinked, surprised at the low sound of her voice.

Turning his head to her he noticed how close she was sitting, the faint smile she wore and how her eyes told of the invitations she could easily make, if he’d let her.

“What sort?” he asked to her previous statement, small smirk on and her smile widened, her hand going to the cleavage of her dress as she replied:

“Brutal ones.”

He cocked an eyebrow, eyes in hers.

“They’re all true,” he stated and she bit her lower lip.

God, he’d forgotten how easy it was. Suddenly she reminded him of Dru, of how his old lover had egged him on in every single misdeed he performed. How she had gotten off on his violence, and fed from it like a puppy lapping milk. The vampiress now beside him wore the same husky expression, and for several reasons he merely wanted to wipe it out.

Prominently because it got him thinking of things he couldn’t have, no matter how close the one able to grant him them was seated... He glanced Buffy’s way at the thought, a mere four chairs away, then had his eyes back in the vampiress’.

“I also have a soul,” he said with a smile and the vampiress’ pupils dilated slightly, though there was no sign of shock on her.

Of course there wasn’t. They could all sense it on him. Their powers were more finely attuned, it seemed, to a whole range of different aspects. He had never had the ability to spot Angel’s soul when it first came to him, for instance. He had never been able to communicate telekinetically with Dru, or with Angel or Darla or anyone else connected to him through his vampiric inheritance either.

Here he had noticed slight glances passed around the table and knew that somewhere above or below or around the conversations being led between the vampires, there was a silent and probably much more deadly discussion going on. If he could only, somehow, get to talking with Buffy. It seemed a hopeless venture though. He felt like he couldn’t move without having someone immediately watchfully observing him. And what of their hearing? Could he and the Slayer fool it somehow, so that they could talk in private without...

“You have barely touched your food,” the vampiress to his right reprimanded, looking at the new plates they had been brought filled with raw, glazed leg-of-lamb.

“But I have,” he disagreed, reaching for his glass of blood and taking a deep gulp.

He wanted to get the hell out of the room. He could feel the same scorn which the princess had fed him when they arrived, oozing off of nearly all of the assembled. He concluded that more than one of the pairs of eyes belonging to a lady that he met also looked indecisively curious and laced with a slight longing. He wondered why.

He felt better though, than when they first stepped inside the castle. If they were meant to be dead, they would have been by now. This meant that there were other reasons for them being there, and if he knew Buffy as well as he thought he did, right now her Slayer mind was trying to fit it all together.

Good luck, he muttered in his head.

They spent another hour in the dining room, neither Slayer nor Vamp trying to strike up anymore conversations. When Bianca had returned to her seat she merely gave Buffy a slightly apologetic look before she turned to the red-haired vampire and indulged in the conversation he was still holding with whoever sat to his left. When the hour had passed everyone rose and walked through the doors at the opposite end of those the servants had taken, continuing into a slightly larger ball room where music was just beginning to play. It was a string quartette and they sounded exquisite, the notes flying through the air of the high-ceiled room.

Buffy closed her eyes.

It was the first truly human thing she had sensed since they stepped through the gateway. Even the splendor of the castle seemed too infinite to ever have been able to be recreated above ground. But the tones of the classical instruments struck her heart with a consoling effect.

“Yes,” Clara said, now at her side, “we cling to that which we know, when in places of unfamiliarity. Do you recognize this piece?” Buffy shook her head and the princess gave a nod. “I suppose that is why it is timeless. You do not have to know the maestro by name or face to love his work. Perhaps that is why I have allowed it into my halls. When man first began beating their drums, who could have known that such beauty would come of it?”

Buffy smiled a strained smile, not convinced of how best to act around the vampiress, who seemed to have a rather fickle disposition. At first enraged, then subdued and now...? The Slayer had the feeling that she’d get to see all the different personality traits of the ruler before her stay was over.

“I guess,” she then said and Clara gave another nod, then smiled at someone approaching them.

“Maeve,” the princess greeted. “I thought you had decided to forego this part of the evening?”

The vampiress curtseyed deeply, bowing her head before she straightened her posture and Buffy bit her teeth together harshly in order not to draw a slight gasp at the well-known face of the other. The Slayer had replayed the dream it had been in over and over, feeling she needed to know why it had come to her. It hadn’t been a Slayer dream and so someone had to have provoked it. Now Buffy realized that it had been the center of it that had. As Maeve’s gaze met hers the Slayer’s heart leapt at the crystal clear understanding that she had an ally.

Maeve bowed her head slightly in greeting as Clara went on introducing them and Buffy smiled barely noticeably before doing the same.

“I will leave you in this able care,” Clara stated. “And later tonight you will come to me and we will have a talk,” she added, her eyes in Buffy’s.

Then she left, walking through the room and being joined by the vampiress Buffy had recognized earlier at the table.

“Who’s that?” she asked Maeve, who had been studying the Slayer closely ever since she had first entered the room.

Now the vampiress turned her head in the direction Buffy was looking and the Slayer noted the stiffening pose of her. Her gaze turned poisonous for just a moment, then hard before she turned it away and back in Buffy’s.

“Gabriella,” Maeve answered. “One of the princess’ most trusted,” she added, looking back at the other two as Clara sat down on a more elaborate throne than that in the great hall, at the end of the room, and Gabriella took a seat to her right. “An extraordinary assassin,” Maeve disclosed, voice slightly distracted and Buffy wanted to ask more, but realized that it wasn’t the time, or the place.

Maeve looked back at her.

“They will dance for hours,” she said. “But I believe the princess understands your journey was not the easiest and has permitted you to leave early.”

“How good of her,” Buffy muttered.

“You should try and get some rest in your room,” Maeve continued, discarding the input, “before it is time for you to meet with her.”

Buffy could tell the hidden meaning of those words and knew that she at any cost could not allow herself to be too tired or the princess would most certainly break through her defenses. For a moment she did fear that she was going out of her mind in thinking that there was even a possibility she could trust this other creature. Her gut intuition was persistent though, and relief was prominent as the Slayer let it take over.

“I’ll make sure to do that,” she replied and Maeve gave her another smile.

It was quite remarkable what a difference it was between the princess and this other vampiress. Their eyes carried the complete opposite expressions; where the princess’ were merciless, cold and at times vacant of anything but contempt and intolerance, Maeve seemed to carry patience and subtle gentleness beneath a layer of what Buffy could detect in a fight would be nothing short of steel. She was sure there was a just as attuned killer in Maeve as there was in any of the rest of them.

“Mingling with the breathing?” Theodore asked as he stopped by the two and Buffy was almost taken aback by the fact that he had his vocal cords intact since she hadn’t heard him speak before, he was wearing a light smile and was in turn receiving an arctic look from Maeve.

“Apposing it, are you?” she asked and his smile grew stale before he directed his gaze in Buffy’s.

“I trust your room is to your liking?” he inquired and she didn’t know whether to take the unmasked politeness in his eyes and words for what they were, or if she should be as defensive as Maeve.

Finally she decided on the former and replied:

“It totally blew my mind.”

Theodore raised his eyebrows as though he wasn’t following.

“Don’t be a nitwit, Theo,” Maeve grumbled and he looked back at her, then smiled a little tryingly. She didn’t return it. “Find the souled and bring him here, if you wish to make yourself useful.”

“And if I do not wish to make myself useful?” he retorted, but at her expression he turned with a nod of excuse to Buffy and walked off.

“I feel like everyone’s staring at me,” Buffy mumbled and Maeve smiled, her face brightening and Buffy couldn’t help but notice how exceptionally beautiful she truly was.

“They are,” Maeve confirmed. “But we have always disliked interruptions, and you, my dear, are a rather large one at that. Once they have gotten more used to you they will... not necessarily embrace you, but there will be much less staring.”

Buffy smiled genuinely for the first time since she had entered the city. Theodore returned with Spike at his side.

“If that is all,” the former said with a slight bow and Maeve said nothing, thus he left again.

Maeve stepped up to Spike, kissing him on either cheek before she pulled back with another smile on. She looked at both of them before she simply turned and walked away, leaving the Slayer and the Vamp as alone as they could be, considering.

Buffy glanced around and then into his eyes. She hadn’t even realized how long a mere few hours could seem, but now it felt like years since she’d rested her gaze in his.

“You okay?” he asked and she smiled brightly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she wondered and he got the hint, smirking.

“Right. How’d you like the place? Not too bad, eh?”

“No,” she agreed. “It’s not too shabby. I mean, compare it to Notre Dame or the Empire State Building...” she added with a shrug and his eyes warmed considerably, making her stomach twirl with butterflies and she clenched her jaws together, taking her gaze from his and clearing her throat. “And you’re good? They’re treating you... good? I mean, they seem to clothe and feed you.”

She glanced at him and then smiled self-consciously at the way he was eyeing her.

“We’re both still standing, so I’d say I’m bleeding terrific,” he replied and the smile died away for the reality of the threat surrounding them. “Hey,” he mumbled as she once more looked away, but when he reached out a hand she took a step back and evaded it.

“I’m meeting Clara later,” she said. “I’ll come talk when I have some answers.”

He watched her as she turned and disappeared into the twirling sea of dancing vampires, then felt a hand on his shoulder. Patrick gestured for him to follow and he did, hesitant as to what was to come. They walked into the entrance hall and Patrick told him to wait there. He did. Soon Clara stepped through the door in the wall opposite him. She smiled, obviously wanting it to seem open, but only having it come out false and shaded.

“William,” she said, approaching him slowly.

“Milady,” he murmured and she looked appreciative.

“Really?” she asked and he huffed, making her smile vanish. “Thou shalt not mock me,” she warned and he glared at her, keeping the resentment down by force. “I wished to tell you that tomorrow I have prepared a walk for us through the orchards. They are quite... amazing. But before this I shall tell you a story you could not even dream up.” She paused, observing him. “Interested?”

He arched an eyebrow ironically, then swore in his head and made a small bow as affirmation. She looked pleased by it.

“It is well, then. Now get your most needed rest and tomorrow you will be brought to me,” she stated, holding out her hand and he wanted to brush it away, but instead he reluctantly took it in his and leaned forward, kissing her knuckles softly.

Straightening his back he could have sworn her hand was still in his, but when he looked up she was gone.