¤

The Age of Miracles

¤

“But the strange thing is,” Buffy stated the next morning, speaking to the gathered Gang, “that I was out walk-... patrolling the other night and I didn’t get one single slay. My count’s been down lately, way down.”

“Think they’re biding their time? Gathering strength? Regrouping?” Xander wondered.

“I really don’t know. Riley’ll be back in two days... The Initiative might have something different to report.”

“Do you really think Adam wants war?” Willow asked, trying not to sound worried and casting a comforting glance at Tara, seated at her side.

“I have no idea what Adam wants,” Buffy replied. “The stuff that he’s done...” She shivered with disgust. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find a way to stop him.”

“Well, you always do, don’t you?” Anya said matter-of-factly, getting off Xander’s lap as she rose. “That was a wasted hour.”

“You know, I really don’t like your snide remarks, Anya,” Giles scoffed, rising as well. “What we do here may seem trivial to you, but without a form of structure and union in where we stand, pandemonium will be the only force once we do try to stop whatever is happening.”

He looked at the stares directed over his shoulder, toward the front door, and then he turned around.

Willow couldn’t believe it.

“Oz.”

¤

After lunch Buffy headed to Stevenson Hall. Entering the room, Willow was sitting on her bed, looking thoughtful. Buffy smiled at her.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What’s with the gloom?”

Willow tried to smile, but couldn’t.

“Oz is back,” she murmured.

“I caught that,” Buffy smirked, having a seat at the foot of the bed.

“He’s back and he can control the howling-at-the-moon thing.”

“Wow... Wait, your face is all scowly.”

“It doesn’t mean to be. I mean, this is so wonderful. I’m so happy for Oz, you know?”

Buffy smiled.

“And you know why he did it, right? Went to all this trouble just to get control.”

“Yes. Of course, I do. And... it’s everything I ever wanted. Last fall. Now, things are different. I’m different...”

“Okay...” Buffy said slowly, then added: “You’re over him?”

“No.” Willow checked herself, continuing: “I mean, I love Oz, Buffy. I love him just as much as I did before he left.”

“And that’s a bad thing.”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Because... of Tara.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“Tara’s jealous of Oz?”

“She might be.”

“I know you’ve been spending all this time with her, and I know you’ve grown really close, and it might cut into hanging out with her, but she has to understand...” Buffy trailed off at the look on Willow’s face. “No... She doesn’t have to understand. She should be jealous,” Buffy mumbled, Willow nodding slowly.

“Not that I want her to be jealous, but...”

“No. That’s fine, Will. Absolutely. I mean, she should be able to feel whatever she wants to feel. She’s one of your best friends, right? You know her better than anyone. It won’t make anything weird between you!”

Buffy tried not to stare at her friend, but there was only so much she could do. This was a bolt coming from the center of the earth and causing a major earth quake on its way up before hitting the unsuspecting Slayer in the chin, or some other body part that would leave her feeling totally thunderstruck.

“You’re freaked,” Willow said.

“No!” Buffy shook her head, calming down. “Absolutely no,” she added, meaning it; grabbing Willow’s hand. “I’m sorry if I made you think I’m not okay with this. I’m so okay with it. I just... had no clue.”

“I wasn’t sure either, at first. I didn’t wanna tell anyone. I was afraid it might ruin it, you know?”

“Yeah. ...What’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t know... It’s Oz. ...I wish I could do it so no one got hurt.”

“There’s no way to do it so no one gets hurt. You have to make a choice, and stick with it. It’s the only way to go.”

¤

The Slayer felt calm, almost sedated. She had been under this sensation for the entire day; it was soothing her nerves like balm. It had been so simple, really. She accepted that she had decided, and now everything was lighter.

She walked in the deep shade of the large oaks taking her to her next class, contemplating her homework and feeling like she had rushed it. She was sure Ms. Hollander would cock an eyebrow as she handed them out, a big fat C on the corner of the Slayer’s. Yeah, it wouldn’t surprise her one bit...

“Buffy!”

She jumped, dropping her books in the process and then glaring at the reason for her start.

“What are you doing!” she exclaimed.

“Skulking,” he replied, then shook his head as if to drop the subject, approaching her.

“It’s day, Spike. Day, remember? Sunlight. Rays of death from a clear blue sky.”

“I took the tunnels.”

“I don’t care. Go back where you came from. I’m busy.”

“So this is how it’s gonna be now?” he asked and she straightened her back, her books under one arm as she faced him again.

“This is how it’s always been,” she replied simply.

And it was. Looking at him now she was surprised how clear her impatience, her intolerance of him close to her, her anger and resentment of him, really were within her. There was nothing else there now. She should’ve been shocked, but wasn’t. It was how it was supposed to be.

He took in the detachment on her features.

Oh.

“Jolly good.”

The sarcasm was tangible.

“Anything but jolly,” she replied.

“You’re not happy?”

“I will be. Once you’re gone.” She held his gaze for a long moment, then added slowly: “I choose Riley.”

Spike arched an eyebrow, then the slight humor faded from his eyes and he grew solemn.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” he murmured.

She turned and began to walk away. He watched her go, then remembered and got himself moving after her, saying:

“This wasn’t why I came.” She didn’t respond and he caught up with her, making her stop and face him before he finished: “I’ve just had a very interesting meeting.”

“Okay, make this quick. I’m late for class.”

“Adam scooped me up in his big, friendly arms and carried me off to an adventure underground. Brief enough?”

Buffy stared at him.

“Why would he do that?”

“He’s under the impression I still have a reason to want you dead,” Spike replied, his gaze growing intense and she glared at him.

“And why did you come here then?”

“’Cause maybe I don’t.”

“Are you telling the truth?”

“Wanna try me?”

“Buffy!” Willow’s voice yelled, the Wicca soon appearing on the path, running towards them. “They’ve taken him!”

“What? Who’s taken who?”

Willow stopped by her friend, nearly jumping from impatience.

“The Initiative! They’ve taken Oz!”

“Why?”

“He changed. He found out about... He must’ve lost control and now they’ve taken him down there and they’re gonna do all these experiments on him and...”

“Alright, calm down. We don’t know that that’s what they’re gonna do.”

Spike snorted and Buffy gave him a look, which shut him up.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get him out of there,” Buffy reassured her friend, turning to Spike she said: “Go home and stay there. If you’re offering your help, I need it. I’ll come by later.”

He gave a nod and left swiftly.

Buffy squeezed Willow’s arm.

“It’ll be alright,” she said gently. “They won’t hurt him.”

I hope, she added to herself, wishing Riley would get back sooner.

¤

She got to the crypt right after sunset. Spike wasn’t upstairs and so she nonchalantly headed down the ladder, walking into the room lit by one single candle. He seemed to have just woken up, sitting on the edge of the bed, jeans on, but unbuttoned.

There was a flare of simple desire sending a sudden tremble through her, and it caught her completely off guard. For the entire day she hadn’t thought of him once. She had gone about her business and longed for Riley. She had remembered all the good times she’d had with the mortal, and she had smiled at the fact that he was soon to return. And she could be with him. But now the need to be close to the bleached blonde was taking over her completely. Every sense inside of her professed it. She could taste him on her tongue and her heart began to pound in her ribcage. God, she had never seen him look better.

“You have no manners, Slayer,” he muttered, stretching before rising.

She used violent force through her teeth, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek to get a hold of herself, and then she simply demanded:

“Tell me about Adam.”

“Tall and ugly. Confident as hell.”

“Yes, this much I’m glaringly aware of. What else?”

She swallowed as his hands moved to the button of his pants, slowly doing it up and not noticing how she was nearly drooling. This was bad on so many levels. Her head was starting to spin.

“He sure knows exactly what he wants.”

And what do you want? she nearly asked, clenching her jaws together hard as she kept her eyes stubbornly in his, disregarding his bare chest.

Out loud she inquired:

“And what is that?”

“Well, he didn’t tell me. But he took me into the Initiative, spluttering about how he wants to change the world and how his Mother had big plans for him... He’s out of his mind. And wants me with him.”

“So... again you can’t tell me anything useful,” she sighed, shaking her head and turning back toward the ladder.

She marveled at her escape being so close.

“Have you been listening?” he stopped her with a growl. “He wants me to join his team.”

She gritted her teeth and then faced him again. She spurted the first thing that came to mind.

“So why don’t you? What’s stopping you?”

His gaze turned cold and then he approached her angrily.

Oh, God, get away!

“You can act like nothing happened when you’re with your bloody friends, but don’t stand there and ask me that. You know why.”

She shook her head slowly.

She didn’t want to know why.

“Just stop,” she said.

“I know you feel what I feel... I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me.”

She stared at him, her hands almost reaching out to touch him, but she held them back. She did feel something, but these yearnings moving inside of her, had nothing to do with love. Had nothing to do with anything but flesh and blood and pulsating pleasure. And she couldn’t share that with him. Ever again. No, what she felt wasn’t love, she knew that now. And it never could be anything but what it was.

“You only see what you want to see,” she murmured, his gaze shading until his eyes were dark blue.

It wasn’t aggravation, but defeat. Heavy and sullen it took over his stance before he turned from her.

“Since I’m leaving in six days I guess you’d better plan the layout of my infiltration... Get you as much information as possible.”

“Yeah,” she said, watching him walk back up to the bed. “But you know ...you don’t have to help.”

“I know,” he muttered, grabbing his T and pulling it on.

He listened to her ascend the ladder.

Then he reached out, killing off the flame of the candle, standing by the bed, with two fingers.

¤

She dreamed of his hands. They were touching her tenderly, checking for bruises, for cuts, wanting to help and protect. They slid up her legs, over her hips and stomach, further up to her throat and into her hair where they took a tight hold and pulled her head back, exposing her neck. She saw the gleam in two yellow eyes right before his fangs sunk deep into her neck.

She woke in a fever, feeling herself shivering as she sat up, blinking sleep away and realizing her eyes were filled with tears.

Childish, she reproached herself. It wasn’t anything but a nightmare. Nothing to get worked up over.

She pushed the covers aside and rose, walking up to the sink and filling a glass up with water. Drinking it in hard gulps she looked over where Willow lay sleeping. Oz was saved, and gone. It felt like it had all happened too fast. Like Willow at least should’ve been given a few more days to make up her mind.

Guess it was already made up, Buffy thought, putting the glass down and walking back up to the bed, crawling under the covers and pulling them up to her chin.

Then an arm snaked around her waist, pushing her back against a chest and she smiled to herself; relaxing. The familiar scents of his crypt encircled her and she turned her head to look at him through the pitch black. He kissed the tip of her nose, making her smile widen. She moved around so she could snuggle close to him, his embrace hardening.

“I won’t ever let you go,” he murmured.

“I know,” she whispered.

And then he was gone, and she was dressed, sitting on the bed with her eyes fixed on a burnt down candle. Its white body had floated out in a gentle puddle, dripping over the edge of the low bedside table. She reached out a hand and as her finger touched the wick a flame slowly grew onto it. She stared, fascinated.

With that image she woke; the sun, shining in through her window, stinging her eyes. She muttered, rolling over onto her back. She went through her schedule for Wednesday and grumbled. The feeling of the need to get up was still keeping its distance, and she contemplated falling back asleep. But, no, she couldn’t. Even if she tried.

She got dressed and ready; trying not to think of the dream, but having the images be too real, too pressing for attention. They wouldn’t leave her alone. His voice soft in her ear, his arms strong in their hold. She had felt deliriously safe. And with this dream, other dreams came back to haunt her. Dreams of him being chained to a wall...

No, she thought. Not him. The demon.

She had bolted his demon to a wall, and it had fought to get loose, but hadn’t been able to. So, what did that mean? Had it been a Slayer dream? No, it couldn’t have been. Why would she have a vision that had to do with something as trivial as that vampire? He didn’t matter enough in the big picture. Did he?

But he’s changed.

She hated that thought, but it was like drops of crystal pouring through her mind, cleansing it softly until it lay shimmering everywhere.

And he was changed.

Change. Such a strange word. What did it really entail? He hadn’t changed. If he got the chip out, he’d still be the same murderous, raw and merciless killer that he had always...

She tried not to remember all the things he had said.

That he would give it all up.

For her.

That’s not change, she told herself. I’m not change. It needs to be within him. Ath was right. It’s his issues and he needs to deal with them.

‘It’s so easy to pretend all that stuff away, but it’s who you are.’

Her own words ringing in her ears and suddenly tears rose in her eyes.

It’s too hard, she thought. Why does it have to be so hard?

¤

She headed out of the dorm, and wasn’t able to resist looking a little deeper into the shadows around her as she went on her way. It was ridiculous that they’d be dark enough for him to elude the sun, but she sure had seen proof of it yesterday.

She pushed back the slight disappointment when he didn’t turn out to be anywhere he might’ve been. The shadows were nothing but shadows, not hosts for his form. Stupid shadows. They sure were useless. She headed into the building of her first class.

The day went by slowly. She kept glancing at the watch. For the first time in quite some time she found herself longing for patrol. She wanted to get out there and find a nest. She was in the mood for it. A good, long, hard fight. She shifted in her seat, distantly hearing the words of her professor as she went over the different moves of the battle in her head. There’d be five – no, six of them. She’d start with the biggest, killing him off to show the other’s who they were dealing with. And then... we’ll, improvisation was always more exhilarating.

At four thirty she had a shower, blow-dried her hair, put on a touch of make-up and began to decide what would be most comfortable to wear. Black pants and black top... A little too dark, for her taste. Maybe her leather pants and a white shirt with her gray coat... Nah, not very fun. A white sweater with her dark blue jeans. But stains on white... Oh, what to do, what to do. Finally she settled on a light blue sweater she hadn’t worn in ages, her leather pants and black coat. She needed the stealth of dark colors after all.

It was six o’clock. Half an hour until sundown.

She grabbed Mr. Pointy and headed out the door.

“You look nice. Going to the Bronze? It’s a little early, isn’t it?” Willow asked, coming down the hallway.

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“No, going on patrol,” she replied. “Never a little early for that... And I don’t look nicer than usual.” She paused, then asked: “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Willow smiled. “It’s still a little rough, but I know I made the right choice.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” Buffy smiled back.

She continued toward the exit, coming out into air that was beginning to truly carry the touch of spring. She headed for the seventh cemetery of Sunnydale, as it was the farthest away from the one hosting his crypt. Slipping her coat off, she put it over one of the headstones and then sat down on it with a sigh, looking around.

“Nest, nest, lead me to a nest,” she mumbled.

She looked at her watch. It was nearly six-forty-five. The sky was still light, but the sun was gone. So where were they? They couldn’t do this to her, she was supposed to have a spot of action each night; it was assigned her by forces way out of any of their reach!

There! A movement!

She got to her feet and started to silently run in that direction, slipping between the branches she had seen moving and looking around. Nothing. Then, farther ahead. She followed it easily, jogging through clusters of trees, across a few streets, between a few houses, into another cemetery. She was close now, she could feel it. A nest! And then she slowed down, looking around with a frown.

“Alpert,” she murmured, looking up at the large tomb before her, which carried that name. “I recognize you.”

She heard steps behind her and quickly slid behind the tomb, pressing herself to the uneven surface of its stone. The steps continued passed her and she carefully peeked around the corner. The steps stopped. She furrowed her brow, getting her stake out, her concentration taking over right before she jumped out, drawing her arm back.

“Jesus Christ!” Spike exclaimed, jumping back with his hands in front of him.

She stared at him, lowering her arm.

She had missed him. It was so simple to admit it. It had been less than a day since she saw him last, and she had missed him. She had wondered what he was doing, who he was seeing. Disliking the thought of that vampiress’ arms around him. No, not disliking, loathing. But the desire that the Slayer had expected, this time was nothing but a low hum in her chest as she looked at him. She was happy to see him, that was the foremost emotion, and it scared the hell out of her.

Covering it up, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Spike!” she then said. “I thought it was a vampire.”

“I am a vampire.”

“I mean, a real vampire.”

“Shut your gob.”

“One I can kill,” she said, meaningfully.

“Hunting, are we?” he asked and she narrowed her eyes before they suddenly widened.

“My coat,” she grumbled, beginning to walk.

“Then shouldn’t you be at the mall?” he wondered, following.

She looked quizzical, then shook her head.

“No, my coat! I left it when I followed... Yeah, where’d it go? Were you on Suncrest Hill just now?”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead on Suncrest Hill. Only fledglings hang on Suncrest Hill.”

“Take that as a no,” she replied dryly. “Weird...”

“Notice how quiet it’s gotten around here lately?” he changed the subject. She nodded. “Funny thing - the soldiers were bringing demons in by the hordes yesterday,” he stated. “There was a lot of activity happening and Adam was like a giddy school-boy about it. Calling it ‘perfect’ and all that.”

“As any super-villain would.” She looked at him, wondering what he was really thinking. “I was in there too, last night,” she continued.

“Rescuing Wolf boy?”

“Yes...”

“You get him out?”

“Yeah. We did. I think Riley’s gonna have a fit, but...”

“What, over you saving one of your friends?”

“He thinks every demon is the same.”

“No!” Spike gasped and she gave him a look, then had traces of a smile on.

“I’m not sure I can make him understand...”

“Soldier boy’s gonna take one look at you, and you won’t even have to explain.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked doubtfully.

“’Cause that’s love, pet. Makes you do things you don’t understand... don’t want to understand... but can’t stop yourself from doing.”

She met his gaze at that, then glanced away, self-conscious. There was a swirl inside of her now, every time her eyes met his. Butterflies. And the need to smile, just a little. This was insanity. Walk away, Buffy. Walk away.

“Did you just wake up?” she inquired and he smiled.

Her knees went weak and she smiled a trembling smile back, unsure of why. She was beginning to feel silly.

“That I did,” he confirmed. “Thought I’d head to Carmine’s.”

“What about Willy’s?”

“Not really welcome there. Was nice bringing you, just to make the old lads foam at the mouth, but it’s not the same now.” She smiled the shadow of a smile. “’Sides, the gambling’s always been better at Carmine’s.”

She looked him over, then remarked:

“No kittens.”

“Promised a lady I’d never harm another feline,” he replied. “Call me old fashioned, but a promise is a promise.”

She had to smile again, then cleared her face of the expression and focused on doing the walking; struggling to remember what it was she disliked about him. She had to be able to come up with something. But glancing at him, all she could remember were the times he had made her laugh until she couldn’t breathe. Or how truthfully he had looked at her, telling her things about himself, his life...

He watched her for a few seconds, feeling all these new emotions, he’d never felt before he met her, keep on stirring within him. They seemed to be growing stronger for each moment; for each time he saw her. Nuances of her seemed so perfectly obvious to him, and still he couldn’t fathom what she was thinking right now.

“Buy you a drink?” he asked and she met his gaze again.

“Thanks... but I have to get my coat... It doesn’t like the cemetery and if I leave it there too long it’ll mold on me.”

“So go get it,” he smirked. “Then come and let me buy you a drink.”

“At Carmine’s?”

“At Carmine’s.”

She hesitated, then simply watched him as he turned to the left, heading down a street taking him to the glimmering neon sign over the mentioned bar.

He wasn’t sure what the bleeding hell to expect. The last time he’d seen her had been far from pleasant, after all. But now... He had made her smile again. He took that for a good sign. Whatever he had damaged the night prior, with his absolutely reckless statements, might be reparable.

When he looked at her, he wanted to make the pain go away. He could see parts of her suffering from it. Because she was right. His past was who he had been up until the moment he realized that he was in love with her. He wanted, more than anything, to erase it. To be worthy of her trust. Her respect. He didn’t know how to get there. But if he could reach her, somehow, he was certain the road would reveal itself.

She would, for better or worse, guide him to it.

Buffy slowed her step, but made herself continue on her set out course.

Mold, she told herself. Your favorite coat and you won’t be able to wear it again because of the mold.

And she did reach the headstone where it was still resting peacefully, as if mocking her with the lie of its need of rescue.

“You rescued me,” she muttered, grabbing it and pulling it on.

¤

Ten minutes later she walked through the door of the bar. She had all but run back to it, cursing every step she was taking, and still almost skipping. Calling herself an idiot hadn’t helped, and now she was soon to be in his presence once more.

Addicted, her mind muttered, but she shook it off.

He wasn’t ruling her. Nothing was going to happen, she was just going to let him buy her a drink, for crying out loud. No harm in that whatsoever.

The bar was dimly lit and reminded her a lot of Willy’s, only there were no apparent demon’s about. She sensed five or so vamps, most of whose heads turned her way.

“Don’t worry, gentlemen,” she said, “I’m here on unofficial business.”

Two left just the same. She spotted Spike in a booth, back to her, and braced herself before she proceeded up to him. He was taking a mouthful of beer, glancing up at her with a crooked smile. She gave him a dirty look and sunk down on the seat facing him.

“I don’t think it’s the smartest move sitting together sharing drinks when you’re supposed to be abhorring me,” she pointed out. “Adam might hear of it,” she elaborated at the vamp’s cocked eyebrow. He didn’t reply, merely eyed her in his characteristic way and finally she just sighed, leaning back. “About that drink,” she added and he smiled, getting to his feet and walking up to the bar.

He returned with a glass of white wine, putting it before her. She twirled it absentmindedly, watching him take his seat again.

“See you got your coat,” he said with a nod to her frame and she looked down at it, then back up at him.

“Yup,” she replied before sliding it off her shoulders and putting it beside her, scratching her neck and having her eyes on her glass instead of in his.

“Cheers,” he said and she raised the glass as he did, taking a sip of the wine.

“Hmh, this is pretty good,” she said. He smiled at that. “I mean, I like white wine, but sometimes they’re too dry or too fruity... But this was... pretty good.”

“Where’s Soldier boy at?” he changed the subject.

“He had to go home for a few days. I don’t know if that was code for super-secret mission, or if he actually had to go home, but home he went. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Why can’t we do the surgery now?”

She didn’t like the falling feeling in her stomach.

“Eager to get away?” she asked.

“No, just curious.”

“The doctor’s busy. He couldn’t pencil you in ‘til then.”

“Sure... has all those other vamps in there now. Probably working round the clock to put the bloody scalpel to all of them.”

“At least you’re not bitter or resentful,” she said, a sudden gleam in her eyes that made him smile again.

“Don’t tease, love, it’s too unlike you.”

“Right, I’m usually more to the point.”

“In every sense of the word,” he nodded, raising both eyebrows before taking another swig of his beer.

“Maybe I’m only like that with you.”

He held her gaze at that, putting the beer down and then tilting his head a little to the side before he replied:

“No. You say what you mean and mean what you say... To avoid misunderstandings. You listen attentively to others, so long as you’re not busy nagging their bloody ears off; and you never hold a grudge, because you don’t believe in them.”

She stared at him; he had a small smile on. She remembered having said those things to him.

“I was naïve, what can I say? As a blushing fifteen year old boy I bet you weren’t more educated in the world than that.”

“You were more open,” he commented.

“I was too open. And willing to believe. Many a wound have I stopped since then by realizing that there’s complexity to everything. Nothing’s black or white, there are shades of gray in between. Once you learn to read them... you reach a Zen-like state and are one with the force.”

He smirked.

“How’s that working out for you?”

“I’m part guru, but it’s a secret,” she whispered the last and his smile broadened.

“That Watcher’s working you pretty hard.”

“I work me hard,” she shrugged. “I’m not going out anytime soon.”

“I can believe that,” he said, her eyes searching his before she gave a half smile. “So, is it what you want? Slaying. If you had a choice...”

“But I don’t,” she said, still smiling a little though her gaze turned melancholy. “It’s not just what I do anymore, it’s who I am. I don’t think I could ever walk alone at night and not listen for a rustle in the bushes, know what I mean? Besides, I lost my powers once... and it was the worst few days I’d ever experienced since getting them.”

“You know, I never fully understood what you are before I had you as close to me as you were,” he stated. “I’d studied your moves before, but...”

“Really?” she asked, a glitter of sudden flattery in her gaze. “You studied me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he muttered and that produced a bright smile.

“Well, you stepping into my life with the opening threat of ‘This Saturday, I kill you’, may give me reason to feel a little satisfied at the fact that you actually had to step back and go ‘Or maybe I won’t’,” she then remarked.

He smiled against better judgment.

“It was never a matter of ‘if’ – it was a matter of ‘how’,” he retorted.

“And yet, here I am, alive and well with two healed scars to thank you for.”

“What I was going to say,” he jumped away from that comment and back to his original train of thought, making her smirk as she took another sip of her wine, “was that your power doesn’t come from how high you can kick or how quick you deliver a punch, it comes from lack of fear. You’re not afraid to die, are you?”

The last question came out more like a statement, and she cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to die, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“It’s not.”

She thought it over for a few moments.

“I guess you’re right,” she mumbled. “I know I’m going to, sooner or later... and it doesn’t scare me. Perhaps I feel like it won’t happen until... it’s supposed to, you know? I don’t know, sounds kinda weird.”

He shook his head.

“But you’re not unlike me in that,” she said before she could stop herself, his eyes in hers before he smiled again.

“Maybe,” he replied. “Self-confidence is key, pet. And you know you’re good. You’re one of the best, after what I hear. And only nineteen.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, merely rested her eyes in his before she stated:

“Sunnydale’s pretty good training ground.”

“What’s the most beastly of beasts you’ve fought here, then, Slayer?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“That’s a very good question.”

¤

“It’s so dark I can’t see a flaming thing, I’m stumbling around like another sodding idiot trying to find the torch Darla’s sworn is supposed to be down there, I finally find it and lit it and lo and behold I’m in a bleeding torture chamber!”

Buffy smiled, swallowing some more of her second glass of wine.

“What’d you do?”

“I can hear feet above me, and I can hear water below me, so I’m trying to find a trapdoor that’ll take me into the stream, yeah? And then I hear this massive crack and I realize that the bloody mob’s breaking down the door.”

“Well, can you blame them, you thief!”

“No. No, I can’t. But at the time I was thinking more along the lines of my prominent demise. So then I hear feet trampling down the passage and I finally see the trapdoor, hidden under this huge chest filled with torture devices all rusty with blood and intestines and I drag it aside and get the door open and throw the torch onto a pile of dry old fabric before I plunge headfirst into water so cold I was grateful I didn’t have a breath to lose.”

“Whoa,” she breathed.

“Second that,” he nodded. “I drift with the stream to the river and swim to shore and who’s there to meet me?”

“Darla.”

“And Drusilla, both looking as innocent as lambs. Darla wants her necklace and I start looking for it, but...”

Buffy stared at him, and then her eyes grew.

“You didn’t!”

“I did. Bleeding well dropped it! I bet it’s still at the bottom of that river somewhere, just waiting to be found.”

“But why did Darla send you in there? She could easily have charmed her way inside, I’m sure.”

“Oh, be sure. But she and Dru loved playing Angelus and me against each other, it was their hobby. And Angelus and I liked trying to beat each other. Kept us occupied.”

She smiled, sitting back in her seat.

“Wow,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“Just... that you’ve always been Dru’s lapdog. It’s actually quite on this side of funny,” she said, then her smile widened as he glared at her, it soon enough dissipating for a smile in return.

She looked at her watch and reached for her coat.

“I have to go,” she said.

He rose as she rose, reaching out a tentative hand to help her put the coat on. She smiled once more, looking up at him before she said:

“Thanks... for the drinks.”

“Anytime you need a lethal-looking, leather wearing male at your side...” he replied and she smirked.

“Good night, then.”

She proceeded passed him up to the door. Then stopped and turned around, her gaze meeting his.

“It’s a long walk back to the school... care to keep me company?” she asked, still unsure of what she was doing as the words flowed out of her mouth.

He dropped a few bills on the table and came up to her, merely giving her a look as a response, before heading before her out the door. She followed, a sense of contentment spreading through her. They walked slowly, not saying anything for a while, looking at each other from time to time.

“I’ve never seen you calm,” she finally stated. He looked questioning and she smiled tentatively. “Just being,” she added. “Like you are now. You’re usually so...”

“Pre-meditated?”

“No,” she rolled her eyes at him.

“Rough?”

“No. Well, yeah.”

“Rotten?”

She stopped at that, holding his gaze for a long moment before she said honestly:

“I used to think so.”

“And what do you think now, Slayer?”

Her heart slowed down to a crawl inside her.

“Intense! That’s the word I was looking for,” she said, beginning to walk again, having him follow the motion.

“Paying me a compliment, love?” he wondered with a smile and she smirked.

“Wouldn’t go that far.”

“How far would you go?”

She glanced at him, hearing the subtle innuendo in his words and then smiling it away.

Half an hour later they were getting closer to campus; the conversation for the past ten minutes having touched down on Buffy’s past. She had spoken of how, even as a child, she’d pretended to be a superhero of some kind, feeling it was her destiny to help people.

“Of course, I always figured it was as a doctor or a firefighter or a cop,” she had said.

“And now you get to be all of them,” he had pointed out.

“Hardly,” she shook her head. “I can’t stitch straight to save my life and I’ve mostly been the cause of fires.”

Which had lead into a description of the months leading up to the burnt down high school gymnasium.

“I guess I wasn’t always walking around questioning everything back then,” she now sighed.

“Like you do now, you mean?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she smirked.

“It’s good to question. But then you just have to know when to stop and...”

“Smell the roses?”

“I wasn’t gonna say that.”

“Of course you weren’t,” she said, then laughed at his expression.

It was the first time she’d laughed in a very long time, and the sound caught them both of guard. She cleared her throat, wrapping her arms around her and looking up at the bright moon. A bird sang somewhere and she listened to it.

“Pretty,” she said. “I wonder what kind it is.”

He was gone from her side in the blink of an eye, making her stop and turn around in a circle, frowning.

“Spike?”

Then he emerged through the bushes, his hands cupped over each other as he held them in front him. She kept the frown on, wondering what he was doing. He stopped before her, smiling a little.

“It’s frightened,” he said. “Don’t make any quick movements.”

She watched as he slowly opened his hands and her eyes grew a little at the sight of the tiny bird sitting on his palm. Then she smiled, her gaze in his just as the bird spread its wings and with a flitter lifted into the air, quickly disappearing.

They arrived at the doorstep of Stevenson, Buffy turning to him with a myriad of emotions inside.

“Thanks for...”

“Don’t mention it.”

She smiled a little.

“I had a... good time,” she mumbled and he returned the smile. “We’re having a meeting at Giles’ tomorrow at seven. Can you be there?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then,” he nodded.

She took a step up on the stairs.

“Good night,” she said.

“Good night.”

She hesitated, then smiled another small smile and turned, walking up to the door and slipping inside.

She walked up the steps of the stairs in a haze of a glowing warmth spreading soft fingers through her. She was smiling to herself. Everything seemed uncluttered in her head now. Like someone had decided it was time to clean up in there, and had helped sort everything out. It had been a good evening. A great evening. But...

Below her window Spike felt like he was flying with the tiny little bird high, high up in the sky. It was strange how needing to be close to someone could make you feel so free. He was happy, and refused to consider that happiness – as too much else – is a fleeting thing.

¤

Predictable

¤

“This isn’t working!” Calor exclaimed.

“I know that!” Ath yelled back. “Give me the remote!”

“No! You don’t know more about these human contraptions than I do, and I’ll be damned if I let you take ringside on this!”

Ath furrowed her brow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have no idea... Did it sound good?”

“Pretty good,” she nodded, both of them calming down just as the front door opened. “Buffy!” she said, a smile on as the Slayer entered.

The blonde smiled back.

“Hey, guys. What’re you up to?”

“Afternoon schedule for CBS is a killer, dude. Just wanted to get caught up on the news,” Calor replied, Buffy’s smile growing a little strained before she gave a nod of approving.

“I’m hungry,” she then said, heading for the kitchen.

Calor raised his eyebrows at the look Ath was giving him.

“What!”

“I told you to tone it down a ‘little’, not go from east coast to west coast in one fell swoop!” she hissed before following Buffy.

“What’d I say?” Calor asked the air where she had been standing.

Ath entered the kitchen where Buffy was getting out the proper supplies for a sandwich. White bread, mustard, two slices of ham, three slices of cheese, pickles, onion and the secret ingredient – olives. She began to fuss with the jars and boxes as Ath took a seat on one of the stools.

“It’s good of you to stop by,” she said and Buffy shrugged.

“I wanted to see how you’re doing. I know I’ve insinuated that I can show you all the best spots on campus – and trust me, it’s not all insinuation – but I get the feeling you’re not in Sunnydale to go to the oh-so-fabulous college.”

Ath smiled.

“No. My brother and I... We have something in need of tending.”

“Sounds like you’re gardeners.”

“Oh, joy if it was that simple.”

Buffy smirked, cutting the olives.

“Your brother... Is he on medication?”

“His problem, and trust me on this, I’ve lived with him for a ve-hery long time, is his lack of them,” Ath stated, having Buffy laugh. Ath observed her for a few moments, the Slayer putting the last touches to her lunch and then bringing it to her mouth, taking a big bite. “You seem at ease,” the goddess remarked gently.

Buffy chewed, swallowed and replied:

“I am at ease. First comes blinding, searing agitation – then comes ease. I’m beginning to get good at this stuff. Full guru-status soon to be had.”

She smirked at that, then took another bite of her sandwich.

“You’ve come to a decision,” Ath said.

Buffy seemed to pause, her mind seeming to drift before she brought herself back and fastened her gaze in Ath’s. The Slayer suddenly had an air of regret about her, which the goddess, at first, couldn’t fully comprehend. Then the former smiled, and it was a real smile too.

“I had to, didn’t I?” she asked. “And I did,” she added.

“And did you choose the mortal?”

Buffy’s chewing slowed as her eyebrows rose.

“It’s slang where I come from,” Ath explained, eagerly awaiting Buffy’s reply.

“I did,” she finally said and the other felt a huge stone lift from her shoulders.

Thank... herself.

“And what of this Spike? Are you gonna leave him to his fate – without dwelling – and move into that bright, sunshiny future of yours?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitively leaving without dwelling. I know he’ll be alright. Everything will be. There’s this one small thing that’s gonna be settled between us, and now I feel like even that will be okay.”

She walked around the island and proceeded into the living room, Ath quickly feeling a heavier stone take the place of the former.

This was in no possible vicinity of good.

She jumped off the stool and again followed the Slayer, who had taken a seat on the couch next to Calor.

“No, press there,” Buffy said, showing him the button to push in order to turn the TV on.

“That is so simple,” he commented and she smiled, patting his arm comfortingly; something which seemed to make him terribly uncomfortable, something which, in turn, eluded the Slayer completely. “Look,” Calor then said to Ath, who had stopped in front of them.

The god began to click the TV on, and then off, on, and then off, on, and then off, on...

“Alright, sailor,” Buffy stopped him, taking the remote. “All these lovely digits will take you anywhere you wanna go. Flip through them and you’ll find yourself on Hawaii or in New York or even on the moon.”

“Amazing. I like this contraption a lot more than the movies. Here you can choose a topic, and not some mindless fairy tale, created solely for the purpose of brain damage and too high ideals.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“Not a big fan of the entertainment industry, huh?”

“It’s an industry!”

“Drop it!” Ath stopped him, as he was clearly on the track of another rant, and he muttered as he turned his gaze on the TV.

Buffy noticed the worried expression on Ath’s face.

“Something wrong?”

Ath teetered on the brink of wanting to tell the Slayer all about what had been foretold. What the Seventh would mean... But the future was something best left unspoken. Prophecies were never on the nose, things changed and went wrong; you could never put your whole faith into them. Then again... this one had been proclaimed so many centuries ago... and by the goddess’ own father.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she smiled, her exterior changing in the blink of an eye as she took a seat. “I know what you are,” she then said, Buffy’s face now utterly perplexed. “I know you’re the Slayer.”

“Ath!” Calor said, flabbergasted. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, hush. We can’t sit in this house any longer. And I want to meet her friends. I know you want to, too. You have to excuse my brother; he’s somewhat of a groupie.”

“Ath!” Calor repeated, this time angrily.

Buffy smiled at his outburst, then met Ath’s gaze again.

“I don’t understand.”

“We have waited for longer than you can imagine to meet you.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“Me?”

“Someday all your questions will be answered, but for now do you accept the only explanation we have?” Ath wondered, catching Buffy’s gaze and holding it.

Buffy stared at her, then smiled again.

“Yes,” she replied. “We’re having a meeting tonight. I’m sure it’s okay if you come along.”

Calor gave Ath a look dark with dislike, but she merely smiled.

“We wouldn’t wish to intrude. But tomorrow evening? Jonathan was talking about a club,” she said.

The Slayer nodded.

“Sure, Thursdays are always hopping. We’ll go scream over loud music and dance till our feet hurt.”

“Wonderful,” Ath replied.

¤

“Are you insane?” Calor exclaimed moments after Buffy had left the house.

“Quite on the contrary, a concept I know you have trouble grasping...”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s in the same context as you!”

“Cale, we need to break out of the confinement of this house.”

“Ath, we can do that without having to resort to drastic measures.”

“Too late.”

He glared at her.

“You shouldn’t have made that decision without consulting me first. I was the one sent down here to make this right.”

“And I was sent down to help you. This is me helping.”

“You’re really not.”

“And what are you doing, that’s so useful? Have you even had one conversation with the girl since we got here?”

He searched for a good comeback, but wasn’t sure what it should be. Finally he just replied:

“We had a nice moment when she showed me how to work the television. Or so I thought.”

“Yes, and then you went on like an idiot that’s never seen a TV before.”

“It so happens I am an idiot that’s never seen a TV before,” he shot, then realized what he’d just said; his countenance growing glum as Ath giggled.

“I like how you’re getting perspective on things.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, brother, what am I to do with you?”

“Just tell me, why now? Why did you choose this moment to reveal us to Buffy?”

“I revealed nothing. She doesn’t know who we are. She doesn’t know why we’re here. But we, dear Cale, need to work our magic swiftly, because I realized something today. Something... I had barely wanted to consider.”

Calor frowned, and Ath continued:

“Spike will have his chip removed. And when he does, he will leave. And he won’t return. You know what that, in itself, means. But here’s what I realized, his leaving will take a toll on Buffy. Not just because he won’t be here anymore; or because he won’t be the punching bag she seeks or the confidant she needs or the understanding she craves or even the lover she refuses to acknowledge. His leaving will damage her, Cale. Because he’s supposed to be here. And what you did has taught her the lesson, alright. That’s what I saw today.”

Calor stared at her, uncomprehending.

“I believe my best laid plan has backfired... I managed to get those feelings inside of her straightened out, but I never imagined it would include her feelings for the vampire. I made a mistake.”

Calor’s eyes were widening.

“Ath...”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “We need to stop it. It’s too soon.”

“I don’t believe she will give into it. She’s not in the mindset to give into it.”

“You’re wrong,” Ath said silently. “Things are very different now, and you made them that way.”

“But...”

“We need to stop it.”

He stared at her, then nodded slowly.

“How?”

¤

Spike was nearing Giles’ apartment. It was twenty minutes passed seven and he hated the fact that he was so early, but knew instinctively that he shouldn’t be late. Self-control. That was all he needed to practice. Last night it had worked its magic and he had seen Buffy smile more than once thanks to it. Granted that nothing had actually come up to make him furious enough to lose his head. He had such a vicious tongue, and if he opened his mouth in an opportune moment it would form the words he was thinking without actually checking them first. He knew he had harmed her the other night, and himself even more, and it had been the last straw. He either had to give her up, or fight for her. He had never backed down from a fight. Okay, a few times he had, but then he had been severely outnumbered. Or he had just been hit in the head with an axe. Point was: this was different.

It was a fight hopefully not entertaining any form of heavy weaponry... And for the first time he felt his nerves tingling.

He didn’t bother to knock, merely stepped through the door. Giles was interrupted in the middle of a sentence, having Spike smirk. Then his eyes landed on Buffy, who looked challenging, and he sobered up, killing the smirk, properly closing the door, cursing himself for being a wanker for this woman, and still feeling terribly soothed by being in this close a vicinity to her once more.

“Spike, how good of you to join us,” Giles said.

“Overslept,” Spike shrugged, seeing a hint of amusement on the Slayer and smiling at her.

She grew self-conscious, still returned it tentatively, then looked away. He had a seat on the stairs, bringing out a pack of smokes and receiving such a scorching glare from Giles that he felt he didn’t even need to light one.

“Well, as I was saying...” Giles started up again.

Buffy hated how fidgety she was. She kept her eyes on Giles by force as he was sitting at the desk and thus providing her with a perfect angle of shifting her gaze to the vampire behind him. She could feel blue eyes on her, watching her in a silence so outspoken it almost hurt. Last night had been... something else. She had had fun. And to have had fun with Spike was a thought still so very unfamiliar to her. But she couldn’t keep down a small smile at it. And with that her control slipped and her eyes landed right in his, making such a ravishing, free-falling sensation occur in her stomach that she drew a careful breath.

Then there was a knock at the door, it opening to let Riley in.

“Heard there was a meeting,” he said with a trying smile.

Buffy saw the different emotions on Spike as though they were written in a bubble above his head. Realization. A flare of indignation. A touch of glee, which made her heart beat a little bit faster. And then the intense questioning. Of her. All of this in a few seconds, registering with her right before she fastened her gaze in Riley’s.

“You got my message,” she said, smiling in return of his lingering one.

He came into the room, saying hi to everyone and then noticing Spike, his face growing tight as Spike’s merely unfolded a crooked smirk.

“Adam made contact, that’s why he’s here,” Buffy explained hurriedly, rising and walking up to the mortal, ignoring the rising eyebrows of the vampire. “He can help.”

Riley suppressed a huff, then looked at Buffy and his stern exterior slowly melted.

“Hi,” he said and she smiled again.

“Hi,” she replied. “How was home?”

“Like always, which was just what I needed,” he said.

“Well, it’s good to have you back.”

Spike gritted his teeth.

Self-control. Level head.

But the pain was extraordinary. The sense of losing her had never been more real and it hit right where he could feel it. It put everything into perspective and wiped away any doubt he might still have had of exactly how deep into this he actually was. What he had said two nights ago hadn’t been a line, and now he knew it – if she said the word, he would walk away from the killing, from the hunt, from the core of his being and the essence of his nature. How strange, in the blink of an eye there can come a change so massive it shifts the pattern of the very world you live in.

And all for a girl, he muttered, glancing at her as she walked with Riley back up to the couch she had been seated on before, sitting down with the mortal next to her.

No, he then corrected himself. The girl.

“Yes, so shall we get started?” Giles asked.

¤

“Pizza’s here,” Willow said, jumping up and running up to the door.

It was two hours later, and the subject of Adam had been tossed around for half of that. Now it had moved into less dark topics. Buffy and Riley were still seated on the couch, Giles had pulled up his chair and Spike had moved to sit on the floor by one of the armchairs. Xander and Anya occupied the other and Willow sat next to Tara on the floor between them and Giles.

Everyone was starved and the pizzas were overly welcomed with cheers and whistles as Willow set them down on the table in the middle of the group. Everyone grabbed a slice.

“Now this is the stuff,” Xander sighed.

“And what stuff is that, mate?” Spike asked.

“The stuff dreams are made of.”

“Your dreams are made of ham and mushrooms?”

“Pepperoni, my friend,” Xander replied, showing the slice he was devouring.

“It is the American way, Spike, don’t try to understand it,” Giles muttered, making the vamp smirk.

“America has its charm,” he remarked, glancing at Buffy, who met his gaze and then quickly looked away.

“Yes, with their deep-fried tomatoes and double-double-triple meals,” Giles huffed.

“Home country of Slayer. Do not taunt Slayer,” Buffy warned.

“No, of course, there are the charming traditions you indulge in.”

“And all I have to say to that is – sombrero,” she shot.

He gave her a look, then took another bite of his pizza.

“And last Thanksgiving was pleasant,” Willow chimed in. “If you don’t count the rage and the vengeance.”

“And the arrows,” Spike added.

“And the bear,” Buffy smirked, meeting his gaze once more as he smiled as well.

“What happened?” Riley asked.

“Indian attack,” Spike replied. “Disturbed spirits and that whole bit... Buffy saved the day. Or evening, I suppose.”

She still had traces of the smile on, then took her eyes out of his as she turned her head to Riley.

“She always does,” Riley said, smiling gently at her and she returned it.

“Makes you wonder,” Spike remarked, having them both look at him, Buffy a little alarmed. “When does she rest?”

“When I sleep,” she answered.

“And when you can’t?”

“Is this going somewhere?”

“No, stopping right now, it seems,” he said, voice smooth as honey and eyes soft as silk.

She swallowed, then smiled to cover the stir within, shaking her head.

“Where in Iowa are you from?” Willow changed the subject, making Riley look at her instead of keeping with his ongoing study of the vampire.

“A small town not even shown on the map,” Riley replied. “I like it there. It’s quiet and open. Gives you space to think. At night all you can see is sky, and all you can hear is wind... It’s beautiful. The smells. It gives me peace.”

Spike held down a smile, contending to rolling his eyes before reaching for another slice of pizza.

“Sounds lovely,” Giles stated.

“Regretting the slander?” Spike asked, another smirk now on.

“I was directing it at the chosen national dishes, not the country itself,” Giles bit back. “I have seen my share of nice places,” he added.

“Yes, and all of them had ‘Home on the Range’ as a lead motif.”

“Is there a problem?” Riley asked, Spike stopping mid bite and looking completely innocent.

“Was I talking to you?”

“You were talking about me.”

“Was I? I believe the topic was ‘nice places’ and so far you look to me as at the best mediocre. Slayer, tell your boy to grow thicker skin if he wants to join this crowd, and even thicker if he wants to sit next to you.”

“Spike,” Buffy grumbled, “that’s enough.”

He glared at her, then sighed.

“Fun’s up, eh?” he asked, throwing the last of his pizza back in the box as he stood. “I’ll bid my leave.”

And with that he walked up to the door and through it.

She clenched her jaws together, restraining herself from going after him. He had just behaved like a jerk! He had no right to talk like that. He had no respect for her whatsoever. She stood.

“Well, if he thinks he can just walk out of here...” she huffed, looking around at the others with stern-face on before heading after him. “I’ll be right back.”

And then she went up to the door and through it as well, closing it behind her. She came out onto the street, saw him and called:

“Stop!”

He did, then faced her.

“What?” he asked as she came jogging up to him.

“Make that as in ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing?’! Judging Riley like that?”

“It was the truth.”

“It wasn’t. You don’t know him. You don’t know where he’s been or where he comes from.”

“Thought he just told me; the land of the wind and the corncob.”

“Shut up,” she said, smiling none the less.

“Does he do that?” he asked quietly. “Make you smile, even when you’re this annoyed?”

“I’m not annoyed,” she disagreed. “And it’s not like that between us. He makes me smile all the other times.”

“How can I compete with that?” he mumbled and she wanted to touch him, just briefly, to show that it wasn’t like this didn’t affect her at all.

“Stop,” she said instead. “Please.”

“I can’t,” he denied her. “Not when you look at me like that.”

“Then I won’t look at you,” she stated, turning and heading back to the apartment.

¤

She met Riley as he was leaving.

“Where are you going?” she asked with a smile. He didn’t return it and hers died away. “I couldn’t let him get away with...”

“Buffy,” he bit off.

She shook her head, stepping up to him and gently putting her hands on either side of his face, making him meet her gaze.

“I’ve made my choice,” she said.

“Felt like you made it when you went after him,” Riley replied stiffly.

“I missed you.”

He held her eyes with his steadily, then moved a hand up to her cheek.

“I missed you too,” he murmured.

¤

Willow smeared lotion on before pulling the covers up. They had left Giles’ later than planned and she was as tired as Buffy looked. The Slayer put the book she was reading down with a huff and then threw it unceremoniously on the floor.

“I don’t like Walt,” she grumbled.

“Disney?”

“Whitman. All these words make my head spin.”

“It’s twelve-thirty at night, you shouldn’t be tackling anything but light comics or short quotes.”

“Right, ‘cause otherwise the Buffy brain will have a melt down.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“Can I admit I was happy to see you with Riley tonight?” the Wicca asked carefully.

“Wasn’t that what you just did?” Buffy asked back, then smiled. “And I was happy to be seen. I missed him when he was gone. It felt strange not having him here. But I think I’m getting back to... me.”

Willow smiled, lying down and making herself comfortable as Buffy switched off her bedside lamp and did the same. There was stillness for a little while, then Willow said:

“Spike was a real hoot tonight.”

Buffy felt her mouth grow dry. There was so much she hadn’t told Willow. Couldn’t tell Willow.

“He said he loved me.”

Oh, well, maybe she could.

There was a long pause, then Willow’s light clicked on. Buffy turned her head to her friend, who looked absolutely staggered.

“Did you believe him?”

The fact that Buffy didn’t immediately reply in the strongest negative sense, made Willow rise and come over to her.

“I’m not stupid,” Buffy stated.

“I know you’re not stupid, Buffy. You have the SAT’s to show for it,” she said, smiling a little and making Buffy feel a lot more at ease. “But this isn’t healthy. It isn’t normal behavior for him. What is he thinking! My God. He hates you and all of a sudden he loves you?”

“That’s what I said,” Buffy nodded.

“So that’s what tonight was all about.”

“It’s over, so it doesn’t matter.”

“But I thought the only thing it was about was some form of... well, frankly I don’t wanna have to spell it out, and don’t think I should have to, since you probably know what I’m talking about; but this...”

“This is nothing.”

Willow eyed her for a moment, then asked:

“So why’d you tell me?”

Buffy grumbled before replying:

“’Cause I don’t wanna keep things from you.”

“Okay, so then, do you believe him?”

Buffy sighed.

“Part of me does,” she answered. “But another chunk goes aaaaahhhhh!”

Willow smirked, taking her friend’s hand in hers.

“Which one is loudest?” she asked.

“Riley is,” Buffy replied. “The other stuff isn’t important.”

¤

“I think you are thoroughly insane,” Calor stated as he walked with Ath into the Bronze the following evening. “This won’t work.”

“We need to get as much information as we can. Besides, you never know who might show up,” Ath replied simply, smiling at her brother’s lack of enthusiasm.

It was nearly eight-thirty, the time the Slayer had set for their casual meeting.

“The mortality has risen to your head, as well as the oxygen and the food. Oh, God, the food. How can you enjoy sticky buns? They’re nothing but sticky!”

“Tomorrow I’m trying brownies,” she smirked.

“Chocolate is highly overrated.”

“You’ve never tasted chocolate, Cale,” Ath remarked. “But I’m about to offer you a taste of your first beer.”

“Hallelujah.”

“There they are,” Ath said, spotting Buffy and Willow at a table.

Buffy raised one arm, giving a wave.

The twins came over, Willow offering them a smile.

“Will, this is Ath and Cale – guys, this is Willow.”

They shook hands, exchanging pleasantries. Then Xander and Anya came back from the dance floor and there were more of the greetings exchanged. Riley was going to be late, having to do some catching up with what he had missed since he’d been gone.

“Not too late, though,” Buffy assured Ath, who was eager to meet him.

“How did last night go?” Ath wondered.

“Fine. We did the Scooby thing, got caught up. Formulated the plan... Which is resting entirely on the shoulders of a vampire right now, so maybe I shouldn’t use the word ‘fine’,” she said, Ath smiling. “Think I’m joking? Just wait and see what way he chooses to screw me over.” She caught herself, and then blushed, smirking. “That’s what he does,” she stated, not saving face and laughing at herself.

“He’s had practice, I’m sure,” Calor cut in.

Buffy swallowed the sip she’d taken of her soda, then smiled again.

“Lots and... lots,” she replied.

“And on that happy note,” Ath said, rising and heading to the bar.

“How old is she?” Buffy wondered as she watched her friend easily order a few beers from the bartender.

“She acts as though she had the wisdom of a billion,” Calor muttered, then returned Buffy’s curious smile. “She’s not quite that old,” he assured.

“What brings you to the Sunny side?” Xander asked across the table.

“Unfinished business.”

“Really? Would that be the bone-breaking or the money-bringing?”

“Neither. My sister and I are here to meet the Slayer; and make sure that her future is secure.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“Really? You can secure my future? I did not know that.”

Calor smiled hesitantly, then shrugged.

“We can but try,” he said modestly.

“Did Jonathan say he’d stop by?” Buffy changed the subject.

“No, he had a dinner he couldn’t get out of. But I believe he’s meeting with Ath tomorrow afternoon. They are baking.”

“Baking?” Buffy wondered.

“I always thought Jonathan had a sweet side,” Willow smiled. “Are we invited?” she added.

“Trust me, you will want to stay as far away from that kitchen as possible. When my sister is in there she is on a mission.”

“And tonight I’m on a different one. To make you loosen up, big brother, and enjoy yourself. This chance we have here comes but once in eternity. Savor it!” Ath instructed, putting down two beers on the table and then twirling around. “Who wants to dance?”

“Well...” Xander began, but Anya stopped him by saying:

“With the beautiful, dark, mysterious stranger? I think not.”

Ath laughed.

“I’ll dance with you,” a voice said behind her and Buffy felt every single nerve stand on end, goose bumps spreading over her shoulders and arms as Ath turned around and faced the bleached vampire.

The goddess looked at him, then smiled, giving a nod in agreement and heading toward the dance floor with Spike in tow. Buffy shifted in her seat, keeping her gaze on her glass, licking her lips to make them deliver a smile at the Gang, glancing at Willow who was watching her.

Ath tilted her head back, looking up at the vampire as he circled her with strong arms. She could see what would have Buffy so excited. His eyes spoke a language entirely their own.

“So this is the elusive Spike,” she said.

“Hardly elusive, pet,” he replied, looking her over before he asked: “Who are you? What’re you doing here?”

“Those questions aren’t always the easiest to answer. Can’t you ask me my name and then we’ll go from there?”

“I’m not interested in your name,” he answered very patiently. “I’d like to know what the hell makes you think you can fool me. You seem to have Buffy wrapped up in whatever blanket was your choice, but I can see there’s something not right about you. You’re... shimmering.”

She smirked.

“I’m impressed. Most eyes are too untrained to notice any disturbance. Almost all of me is fully human, after all.” He furrowed his brow. “Don’t bother thinking what you’re thinking. Buffy won’t listen to you. And it’s not that she won’t believe you, it’s just that she won’t hear you.”

“What are you?” he got out, his eyes beginning to grow cold.

“I’m not here to harm her, Spike,” she said. “I care about her more than you will ever be able to fathom.”

“So do I,” he murmured, his grip on her tightening.

“Gotten,” she said. “But you should see that’s a lost cause, being so perceptive and all.”

He looked irritated, and wondering; and she nodded towards the table hosting the Slayer. He turned his head nonchalantly that way and felt everything darken as he watched Riley just joining them, Buffy looking terribly glad.

“Ow. Squeezing. Hard,” Ath pressed out, Spike loosening his grip.

She observed him, amazed at how evident his hurt was. It blended with the azure of his eyes so perfectly. Perhaps it even made him more beautiful, more profound. All his suffering was a part of him and it made him grow. The deeper in love he fell, the more there was for him to understand about himself. She smiled a small smile.

“It’s how it’s supposed to be now.”

He caught her gaze; his burning as he asked:

“Says who?”

The song changed and she stepped away from him before proceeding passed him, walking back to the group of chatting people. He stood still for another few seconds, then turned and searched the room for an undisturbed spot. Finding it, he leaned against the wall and looked through the movements of the dancers toward the spot where Buffy sat.

Hypocrite, he thought to himself, glaring at her. Liar. You frightened little...

He clenched his jaws together. And then her eyes met his. There was a swirl of pleasant stirrings within him, but she looked away.

Buffy swallowed for the fifteenth time, reaching for her glass, which was now empty.

“I’ll get you some more,” Riley said, rising.

She smiled her thanks, feeling incredibly self-conscious as she could sense Spike’s watchful gaze resting on her. Finally she couldn’t keep her eyes from checking, and they met his again. When Riley had returned and she had repeated the glancing up and then away three more times she thought to hell with this stalker-creepy-irritating behavior and rose, excusing herself and heading toward the ladies, breaking off the beaten path to head up the stairs instead. Reaching the mezzanine she stayed in shadow, and waited.

The vamp stepped up not many moments later.

“God, you’re so predictable,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“You never said I couldn’t look at you.”

“You’re not looking. You’re staring. It’s freaking me out. Stop it.”

He smiled a little; approaching her and having her slowly back up.

“Got you here, didn’t it?”

She was about to open her mouth, but then closed it.

“God, I’m so predictable,” she cursed and he smirked.

Her back connected with a wall and soon he was right before her.

“What’re you doing with him?” he asked. “You know you don’t wanna be there.”

“That’s not true,” she disagreed.

“So you’re aiming for the happy-happy? For the ever after, live together, raise fat grand-kids in love and prosperity?”

“Sounds good.”

“Sounds... boring.”

“No.”

“Buffy, you think you need him... That he’ll keep you steady. But all he does is hold you back.”

“You’re so wrong.”

“Yeah?” he wondered. “Does he think it’s bloody fun that you’re about a thousand times stronger than he is? Think that’s easy for him to deal with? And you think you can’t feel he’s not dealing? Sooner or later it’ll make you feel the need to strangle your abilities. You’re gonna set yourself back. You’re gonna stop evolving. Can you handle that?”

“He knows me. What I have to do. He supports me,” she stated.

“You support him, love, you don’t need support. And you’re capable of more.”

“Wasn’t the tune you hummed when we were getting married,” she shot. “Then it was all giving up my job and having you holding your non-protective hand over my bitsy blonde head. And I loved you then, but nothing was different. We fought and disagreed and...”

“Nearly shagged in that crypt with all your friend’s watching,” he filled in. “Passion doesn’t come cheap, Slayer. And I can scent it pulsing through you... Can you honestly tell me you’ve ever felt a high that can compare to wanting what you can’t have... and taking it?”

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” she hissed, feeling trembles go through her of anticipation as he slowly leaned into her. “You only like the chase.”

“I like it,” he admitted, his eyes glinting in the soft darkness around them. “But definitively not ‘only’.”

His face inched closer and she put her hands up against his chest, pushing him away with an effort that was so great it made her eyes almost tear up. She bit it back.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, voice quavering.

“Nothing you can give,” he murmured.

“So don’t ask for it,” she said, moving away from the wall.

Away from him.

“Maybe I just like watching you squirm,” he said, though the warmth in his gaze made every urge of agitation be suppressed within her.

“You’re a pig, Spike,” she stated, a smile drawing over her features before it faded.

“And you’re the truffles, doll. I’m sorry if I can’t resist you.”

“Well, if there’s no resisting, I guess you’ll just have to learn to live with it,” she said, turning and leaving.

¤

Ball of String

¤

The evening went on, but the fact that everybody had early mornings the following day – everybody except Anya, Calor and Ath, that was – had them finally face that it was time to break it up. They all rose, collected their things and headed for the door.

Buffy kept her gaze in Riley’s as he was speaking with her, and then she laughed. And she meant it. She thought he was funny and sweet and terrific and she remembered falling in love with him, how easy it had been once she allowed herself the luxury. She remembered how frightened she had been for him when he got sick, how she had missed him, how determined she had been to get him back. And with all those memories surrounding her, Spike’s words dimmed away into non-concrete static.

The group faced each other outside the club.

“Thanks for tonight, it was wonderful to meet you all,” Ath said.

“Same,” Xander smiled, after Anya had given him a possessive glare.

Since their fight at the fraternity they had been virtually inseparable. Buffy smiled at them as Riley wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“We’ll do it again,” Willow assured.

After agreements they all went on their way; Willow, Buffy and Riley walking together back to campus. They talked about Ath and Calor. Willow and Riley agreed that they seemed very nice and un-demony. Buffy nodded, holding hands with Riley and feeling like everything was so right. As right as it could be. She was happy again. It was like she’d told Willow – she felt like she was getting back to herself. The way she was supposed to be.

Willow and Riley laughed over something and Buffy chimed in. They were nearing the dorms and it was time for Riley to take a different path, bringing him to the fraternity. He stopped, turning to Buffy.

“So...” he said.

“So,” she said, standing on her toes and kissing him gently on the lips. “I’m happy you could come.”

“Me too. Feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

He ran a hand softly over her shoulder and down her arm. Her smile widened. Then she put her arms around him and hugged him tight before stepping back, looking up at him.

“You’ll see me tomorrow,” she said.

He frowned slightly.

“Promise,” he asked.

“Promise,” she answered.

“Okay...” he mumbled hesitantly, watching her as she hooked arms with Willow and headed for their dorm.

Willow glanced at Buffy. The Slayer finally picked up on it and raised her eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Willow replied. There was a lapse of silence and then she picked up with: “I liked Ath and Cale. Given he was stiff as a board, but still.” Buffy smiled at that. “Ath seemed to enjoy herself, though. She said the Gilded Bronze was the best thing she’d ever tasted, if you can believe that... I’ve never gotten the sourness.” Buffy smiled again. “And she really thought Spike was a good dancer, I guess the world is coming to an end.”

“Why would you tell me that?” Buffy asked; stopping and making her friend do the same.

“Sorry. Honestly I thought you were beginning to get used to it...”

“Not the world ending!” Buffy interrupted.

Willow stared at her.

“Okay,” the Wicca said, “tell me.”

Buffy clenched her jaws together.

“What?”

“Why is he getting to you like this?”

“Why?” Buffy almost laughed, but it got caught in her throat and nearly turned into a sob.

The happiness was gone. The calm serenity, the certainty, the convictions, they went poof. All because of the picture of his arms around Ath, which the Wicca’s so simple question stirred up. And Buffy couldn’t stand how she couldn’t stand it! She wanted to ignore it, push it away: the envy that curdled and sizzled as it rose in her throat. The envy of someone who was free to be on that dance floor with him. Who didn’t have to care about stupid things like fangs and everything those stood for.

She looked away from her friend, suddenly feeling sincerely shaken. She was completely unprepared to have this sort of conversation with her friend.

“Yes, the reason,” Willow now clarified.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I don’t know!” the Slayer exclaimed. “He’s everything I hate. I should stay away from him, and it shouldn’t be difficult or complicated. But there are things that have happened, that make me... feel...” She couldn’t find the word. “And we’re actually... I mean, he’s... I’m... If I could make it go back to exactly what it was...” She trailed off, unable to finish. “Oh, God, I hate this! I really do. I hate it.”

She turned from Willow, pulling her hands through her hair in frustration.

The redhead observed the back of the blonde for the longest moment, wanting to understand, sensing how badly this was getting to the Slayer. Finally Willow slowly stated:

“But you’re with Riley.”

“What do you want me to say?” Buffy asked, turning back to face the other. “I’ve tried to make the best of it.”

“’The best of it’? This isn’t you talking. Buffy, all that heartache you’ve gone through over Riley, that wasn’t worth anything? Now he’s just a convenient way of...?”

“Alright, stop it!” Buffy exclaimed, anger flashing in her eyes. “That’s totally unfair; you know how much I care for him. That hasn’t gone away! But, you have no idea what I’ve gone through these passed few weeks!”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“Look, tonight all I’ve done has been to tell that vampire to take it elsewhere; and I’ve tried to show Riley just how much he means to me!”

“So why aren’t you with him now?” Willow wondered.

“I still don’t feel ...completely there, okay?” Buffy said, starting to walk again.

Willow followed, coming up at her side and waiting for her to continue. She didn’t, though, and they arrived at Stevenson Hall. They stayed quiet up all the stairs, during all of the getting ready for bed, and even when they got under the covers and turned out their lights.

Buffy felt the pressure of that silence work its way into her even after she had finally fallen asleep.

¤

Ath was measuring the cocoa when there was a knock at the kitchen door the following morning. She smiled as it opened hesitantly.

“Come on in, you know you don’t have to knock,” she said, turning to face Jonathan.

He smiled slightly, closing the door behind him and standing still. He couldn’t help how every time he saw her, he just wanted to stay put in the place he was, and watch her. It was an inexplicable fascination with everything she did; with how she moved and spoke; how she smiled as though it was the beginning of the world. She loved to bake, for some reason, and so he loved to bake as well. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and why she would want him around was something he couldn’t understand; but it wasn’t important why, it seemed she did, and he was content with knowing that much.

“Hi,” she said and his smile widened.

“Hi. I see you’ve started.”

“Yeah. I didn’t have anything better to do. I hope that’s alright.”

“Sure.”

He took off his jacket, gingerly placing it on one of the stools before coming up to her.

“How was the dinner?”

“It was nice,” he shrugged, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater before washing his hands in the sink. “I don’t get to see my grandparents very often. They’re good people, I guess. A little stiff, maybe. Don’t have much to talk to them about.”

“Aren’t they interested in you? Your life?”

“Yes, but there’s not much going on in my life that they don’t already know about.”

“Excessive baking, perhaps?” she offered and he smirked.

Coming up to her, he looked at what she was doing.

“So, it’s brownies today?”

“From scratch.”

“The only way to go.”

She turned her head to him and met his gaze.

She wondered why she always felt lighter when he was around. What were the strange sensations moving near her heart? How could she put them more easily into perspective? It didn’t seem like it should be very hard. Here was Jonathan, and she liked him. There, that was settled. And then the questions rose. How much did she like him? Did he like her? Were they friends? Was there anything more there? What was this affecting, placing herself as a part of his life? She decided to ignore that last quandary, and smiled at him again.

It felt good, that was all that really mattered. She felt giddy and happy when she was near him. And she didn’t want to let those emotions go. They were becoming significant to her. A part of her. She wondered, though, where it could possibly be headed. Because what could be nicer than this?

“Did you go to the Bronze?” he asked.

“We did,” she replied, beginning to stir the batter. She liked the rich chocolate color of it. “It was just like you said.”

“Liked the music?”

“Loved the music. Loved everything about it.”

“Well... if you’d want, we could... you and I... we could... If you’d want?”

She stopped stirring, fastening her eyes in his, quizzical.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t yet learned to add meaning when a sentence is unfinished,” she said.

He smirked, feeling stupid.

“What I meant to say was that you and I could go there, together, if you’d want,” he mumbled, barely able to look at her.

She smiled a little.

“Sure!” she said, beginning the stirring once more.

His eyes grew a tad.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded, smiling. “What’d you think, I’d say no?”

“Well... yeah,” he replied.

Her smile broadened.

“I like that you’re honest.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Ath, why would you wanna be here... baking... with me? You could go out there and... rule!”

She smirked.

“I know I could,” she said. “But out there isn’t for me to rule. I’m here, baking, with you, because I wanna be here, baking... with you.”

He met her gaze and held it.

Wow.

She smiled once more.

“Now, help,” she instructed.

He reached out to grab the flour and she moved for the sugar, their hands meeting midair and both of them stopping, eyes landing in the others again. For a second everything was silent, and then Jonathan seemed to jerk out of it, removing his hand with a timid smile.

“Sorry, I’ll just...”

“Yeah,” she said.

She stared at him. She had never felt such a rush before. What an intoxicating, baffling sensation. Like falling from the sky. Her heart beat was quickening. And her eyes kept focusing on his mouth. She had seen people kiss... but if this was what led up to it, she thought she finally understood why they did it so frequently.

Was this what Buffy felt when she was close to Spike? Was it different depending on who you were with, or did she feel the same thing with Riley? Was that why there had been the hesitation on the Slayer in choosing? The goddess’ mind began racing with questions and she slowed them down, focusing on the person at hand instead.

¤

“Mom!” Buffy yelled, stepping into the storage area of the gallery.

It was a large room, piled floor-to-ceiling with boxes, crates and covered paintings. All of them were neatly tagged. Joyce summers kept order in the disorder. Buffy smiled a little to herself, and since there was no reply to her call she was about to turn and leave when a voice said:

“She’s not here.”

Buffy’s eyebrows rose as she realized to whom the voice belonged.

Walking forward she rounded a large bookcase and her eyes landed on Calor, sitting on the floor with, what looked like, ancient masks spread out around him.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked.

“Did you know that tens of thousands of years ago, a mask was something more than what you hid behind? It was something that transformed you into another being. Mysticism was so attached to the core of the human spirit that the respect for these sorts of artifacts was so great not all of man could look directly at them.” He finally glanced up and met Buffy’s gaze, adding: “Isn’t that something?”

She came up to him, sinking down on a crate and taking in the mask in his hand before she shrugged.

“History never was my strong-suit. Ask me anything about what goes bump in the night, and I’ll tell you a few tales you’ve never heard before,” she smiled.

He returned it, putting the mask down and observing her for a moment.

“I know you deal with many kinds of nasties in your line of work, but your primary enemy seems to be the vampire. Why is that, do you think?”

Buffy smirked.

“Well, I’m not called the Vampire Slayer for nothing.”

He smiled as well.

“And yet they are there in abundance, aren’t they? No matter how many you slay, they’ll keep on coming. Does it ever weary you?”

“Does it ever weary me?” she repeated in mock-disbelief. “When you’ve been doing this for a few years you can come back and use the word weary. The proper termology would be exhausting-until-all-your-limbs-are-about-to-fall-off-and-your-head’s-ready-to-explode migraine me. ‘Weary me’,” she said, shaking her head at him.

He smiled again.

“Forgive me for my lack of understanding.”

“No worries.” She eyed him for a moment, then asked: “What’s with the whole ‘groupie’ thing Ath was talking about?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “She’s not very good with the... what was it? ‘Termologies’ of this world.”

“Oh. So... what, you’re not from this world?”

“Of course we are! In a sense, we are. Oh, darn.”

He rose and she got to her feet as well.

“Look, I deal with interdimension traveling every other week. Calm down,” Buffy said. “It’s no biggy.”

He swallowed, looking up at the ceiling and seemingly waiting for something. He was oddly jumpy this afternoon, or so Buffy thought. Finally he settled down again, taking his previous seat as Buffy did the same.

“So, all this,” she said, sweeping her arm out to indicate the room, “really does it for you, huh?”

“I find it compelling. Touching these objects is like touching where you originally came from. Imagine, a thousand years from now someone might be holding that cross you wear around your neck, just having extracted it from a piece of dirt, marveling at the condition it’s still in and eager to find out what purpose it served and what owners it had. Nothing can ruin history, Buffy. It’s permanent. All you need to do is pay due attention to it. You never know, somewhere in there might be the answers you so desperately seek.”

Buffy stared at him, then sunk back against the bookcase with a sigh. Calor watched her in silence. Waiting patiently for whatever was on her mind.

“’Learn from your mistakes’,” she murmured meaningfully. “’History is bound to repeat itself’; and when it does... have pointed sticks and holy water handy.” She met Calor’s questioning expression with eyes slightly growing. “I’m sorry,” she smiled. “Getting caught up in my own stuff here. I should go.”

“If you need me to lend an ear, or two, I’m a bendy victim,” he stopped her.

She hesitated.

“It’s not that I need an ear, or two,” she finally said, though gratefully. “It’s just, perhaps I could use outside perspective. I sit here and I judge,” she mumbled. “I judge my friends, I judge my mom, I judge the demon community actively... and I judge myself. But, who am I to do that? To sit and dictate what’s right or wrong? Who can say what’s right and what’s wrong? Really? Am I an expert? Is it wrong of me to want him out of this town, and still... not? Is it right to take the chip out? Am I being selfish? Is this all some crazy ride I’ve been put on? Is it ending soon? I just...”

She trailed off, searching for the words.

“You sit in the center of your own universe, you know, and then something comes along that... shakes everything up so bad you don’t know sky from ocean anymore.” She huffed, mostly to herself. “There are sides to me I had no idea existed. Emotions I’ve felt, I had no idea were there. Could be there. And now, there’s so much hurt. I feel like all I do is... hurt.” The last word came out in a strained voice she barely recognized as her own. It was the first time she actually allowed herself to recognize the smoldering sensation near her heart. “When will it stop? When he’s gone? When I’m gone? Will I be in pain over this... forever?”

Calor stared at her face, at the etched sadness all over her features. And then it slowly drew back, and she stood.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled once more. “I really don’t know what came over me.”

“Maybe,” he said gently, “what you need isn’t outside, but inside perspective?”

She held his gaze, then smiled faintly, giving a nod before walking out through the door.

Calor drew a slight breath. He had done wrong by her, and now she was paying. He felt a searing ache shoot through him as the sorrow over what he had inflicted upon her, took over him entirely.

¤

“And when this... ball of string inside seemed to get a bit untangled, I thought everything would get easier, but... I’m starting to think maybe it won’t. And it sucks! I mean, what does a girl have to do? You understand, right?” the Slayer asked, looking down at the kitten walking beside her.

It was ten o’clock in the evening. The feline looked up with her green eyes, trusting and agreeing, and Buffy smiled.

“Yeah, I knew you would.”

She squatted down, scratching Kitty behind the ears and under her chin gently.

“Now, run home,” she said and the kitten soon disappeared over the lawn toward the familiar window of Tara’s room.

Buffy watched her; then sighed. Patrolling beckoned, but it had been so boring lately she wasn’t sure she wanted to go; much less needed to. And then there was the risk of running into Spike. She just didn’t know if she could face him right now. She wasn’t sure what to say, how to act around him. Because she didn’t like the way she could sense that she was causing him agony over this. Over her.

Hold onto the aaaaahhhh feeling, she told herself. And think of nothing but Riley.

Riley.

I made my choice. And it was the right choice.

She began jogging, and then running, and before she knew it she was slowing down, entering Main Street. She walked passed the magic shop, against her will stopping before the large window of the bridal shop next door. Her right hand went to the empty spot of her left finger and she furrowed her brow, continuing on her way.

Passion.

Yes, she did feel it coursing, pounding through her whenever that godforsaken vampire touched her... Sometimes all it took was one glance. And how he knew her, how he scoured her, nestled deep and...

Okay, this is going in the wrong direction, she stopped herself. Let’s tone it down.

She headed into the twelfth cemetery, stretching and having a look around. It seemed quiet, but then it always did right before midnight. She sat down on a headstone with a sigh.

“Adam,” she muttered. “He’s taking all the fun out of this place.”

“Let’s see if we can bring some of it back,” a deep voice stated behind her and she smiled, looking to the skies.

“I was so hoping for that response,” she said before rising and facing the... eight vampires slowly spreading out before her.

She cocked an eyebrow. There were two fledglings, she could tell by their imitation of bad-ass glares. The leader, however, seemed strong. She had taken on worse odds than this, and she wasn’t worried. There was only a tremor of adrenaline that pulled through her and she squared her shoulders, steadying herself for the fight.

Three of them moved forward. She blocked a punch from the first, kicked her leg up and hit the second in the head while she shot an arm out and had her hand connect with the third’s chest so hard it flew backwards. She pulled herself together, then jumped up in the air, delivering an awesome strike to the fourth attacker’s chin. Landing she dropped to the ground, rolled around and put both her feet in the stomach of the fifth.

Her breathing was deliberate and controlled, but they were coming on fast, and as the weakest ones of course had been those chosen to lead the assault, she was now figuring that the three remaining wouldn’t be as easy to handle. She reached for her stake... and froze.

It was gone.

Not possible.

Couldn’t be happening.

Damn!

She drew a breath and had an instant-long search of her surroundings. Anything. Anything!

She ducked, reached up her arms and grabbed the swinging arm of the sixth vamp, pushing it up and then pulling it out of its socket before she swept its legs away from under it. It screamed with dull pain, clawing at its shoulder. She faced the others, and soon they came at her at once.

She spun around again, hitting two of them on the cheek and then kicking her foot into a third’s face before she changed her leg, advancing the spin to go the whole team around. Then two hands grabbed her roughly around the ankle, stopped the spin mid-turn and flipped her over, making her do a full somersault through the air before she landed hard on her stomach, getting the wind completely knocked out of her.

“That’s right,” the leader growled and she felt his foot place itself between her shoulder blades, pushing her further into the dirt. “Crawl, Slayer. Soon that’s all you’ll be doing. You’ll hail our race, bitch.”

“Really?” she coughed. “Thought you were about to put an end to my misery.”

“We’ll feed,” the vampire stated and she felt sudden dread fill her. “And when you’re almost dry you’ll be like everybody else. You’ll choose our side. I bet you’ll even cry.”

She could hear it smirking, and began to estimate how difficult it could be to snake out of its grip, just when a voice said:

“Should never bet on a sure lose, mate.”

She had to smile.

“What took you?” she asked. “Or were you watching from the sidelines?”

“You really don’t think very much of me, do you?” Spike wondered. “Think I’d enjoy seeing you grovel?”

“Do you mind?” the leader asked. “We’re sorta in the middle of something here.”

“Sir,” one of the fledglings said, “that’s Spike.”

The leader raised its eyebrows, turning his head to the bleached blonde.

“You’re Spike?”

“One and the same,” Spike replied, throwing the fag he’d had between his lips to the side, hooking his thumbs in his belt and eyeing the leader. “And may I ask who you think you are?”

The leader merely smirked.

“Excuse me,” Buffy said from her awkward position. “Really not very comfortable here.”

“I’ll snap her spinal cord right now,” the leader said, ignoring her, eyes on Spike. “Wanna hear it crack?”

“I’m sure you know I do.”

Spike approached him slowly, Buffy feeling the pressure on her back increasing for every step. There was a pause, and then the sound of knuckles meeting flesh, an oomph of surprise as the pressure was released and then a growl in aggravation.

“What the hell are you doing!” the leader exclaimed.

There was no reply as Buffy easily got to her feet. Spike looked over his shoulder at her and she met his gaze, affirming that she was alright. He smiled a little, and she returned it, truly thankful. He held up her stake and then tossed it to her.

“Should hang on to that, love,” he remarked.

“So I was growing painfully aware,” she quipped and his smile widened right before a blow was delivered to his chin.

She moved forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as they surveyed the surrounding threat. It began to come at them in waves, both of them fighting the vampires off furiously. Buffy slaying two quite easily, but the pattern kept changing; the vamps were faster, well-trained, focused. Buffy got hit in the side and then she felt Spike’s hand grab her lower arm, turning her around to face him and pulling her close. She stared up at him, but his gaze was focused on the approaching vampires. His other hand took hold of her free wrist and then he turned her around again, bringing her arms up as she did a semi-twirl. She kicked up her leg, the charging vampire flying backwards. Spike kicked out one of his legs at the same time and once it was done he spun her around for a second time, sweepingly dipping her and her foot kicked up, connecting with the chin of another vamp.

Now she smiled with sudden delight and he smirked, getting her up and swirling her around, her hand holding the stake now free and as she took a step out, her eyes in his, one hand linked with his hand, the stake sunk through the ribcage of the approaching fiend. Spike let her go, meeting a punch and then wringing the demon’s neck easily. When he turned around Buffy was dusting her fourth. That left three. One of them was already backing away and when the leader noticed it, it growled a warning. But it was too late, the two allies it had left, turned and ran for their un-lives.

Buffy and Spike faced the leader.

“Well,” he said, “this didn’t go as planned.”

“You guys never learn that it never does, do you?” Buffy sighed, taking a tighter hold on her weapon.

“Sorry about the foot-in-the-back before... was just showing who’s boss, you know.”

“All high and mighty,” Buffy nodded. “Perfectly understandable. So, in light of that - ...” she threw her stake straight into its heart, crossing her arms over her chest as she finished, “no hard feelings, I hope.”

Spike looked at her and she turned her head to him, smiling a little sheepishly. He returned it.

“Look at you, all knight-in-... leather duster,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I find the shining armor loses its charm fairly quickly.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Heavy, loud, in constant need of oil.”

“Oh, God, yes. Leather is definitively the way to go,” she nodded and he smirked again. “Look...”

“I know,” he stopped her, his gaze soft. “Trust me... I know.”

He turned to leave and she felt something object too hard not to act on it, and so she said:

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“But I want to... mention it,” she said, making him face her once more. “I want to say that I never would’ve pictured us... I mean, that you and I would be standing on this spot and me feeling all this need to let you know how much it means to me that you care enough to...” She trailed off and he cocked an eyebrow. “Look, I never said thanks for saving me... and keeping me safe. I know you only did it to keep yourself safe, but... ‘Cause you did... didn’t you?”

He kept his eyes in hers as he approached her, stopping right before her. Then he answered gently:

“Yes.”

The blacks and blues and grays around them slowly bled into each other, creating a meaningless murmur as a backdrop to the emotions that were sharp as knives within her. The adrenaline still pumping seductively through her, the desire his form this close to her set aflame now spreading within. But then his hands tenderly placed themselves on either side of her face and a different kind of longing appeared. One where she wanted him. Just him.

She put one hand up, covering one of his and then looking up at him.

She saw a reflection in his eyes of the flare of pain she felt in that moment. For him.

And then he gingerly let his hands fall away. She felt tears rise and she looked away from him, feeling ashamed. Like she was mocking him with displaying any feeling, when she couldn’t reciprocate his.

“How could you love me?” she asked, not wanting to sound bitter, but that was what she was.

It was all such a waste.

“How could I not?” he retorted and the waste was no longer apparent.

The way he looked at her sent shivers through her, of sympathy... and subtle joy. She tried to suppress the latter, but this time it didn’t work.

“You should stop telling me you do,” she murmured.

“Then you should stop bringing it up,” he shot, turning to leave again.

“Spike.”

“Just... let me go, Slayer,” he said. “If you can’t bloody deal... let me go.”

And with that, he went. She stood there, feeling abandoned and lonely and very, very small.

¤

Spike emptied the beer bottle he held in one hand before pushing the door of the crypt open. He wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t anything. He wanted to get the chip out. Maybe that was what had changed him. Maybe all this humanity would disappear as soon as the wretched piece of metal was out of his skull. And then he’d be gone. He’d leave it all behind. She’d be nothing but a memory, a fading picture amongst all those others. A face like all the rest.

He stopped in the middle of the floor, feeling helpless. Cursing himself he straightened his posture and then he paused, knitting his brow and turning his head to the side. A match was struck against the side of its box and the flame lit up the features he had come to know too well.

“What’re you doing here?” he muttered as she put the flame to a candle.

“Waiting,” she muttered back.

“For what?”

“For any of all this to make sense. It doesn’t.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, pet.”

She put the candle down, and then came up to him, looking him over before reaching out a hand and taking the bottle from him, putting it on the floor at their feet before she straightened her back again, resting her eyes in his.

“I don’t wanna fight with you,” she said. “It’s tiring.” He finally smiled tentatively, she returned it. “I’m calling a truce.”

His eyebrows rose.

“This is serious, Slayer.”

“I know it is,” she nodded. “And I know you’re leaving. But tonight showed me something... about you and me... that we work... in a fight. You once said that killing things is what we do best. Guess you were right.” She smiled tryingly. “And with Adam and with the slaying part you’re playing, sorta makes you part of the gang...”

“Does it?”

“Note the ‘sorta’. And all this staying away from each other and not pretending we’re there when we are, isn’t working as well as I promised myself it would, ‘cause you always show up where I am.”

“Likewise,” he pointed out dryly. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying... civilized interaction. I’m saying... polite conversation. I’m saying... shaking of hands that we agree and then we just...”

She shrugged and he smirked before reaching out a hand. She took it firmly, gaze in his. Then she smiled.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay. Truce. Should be interesting.”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“I think it already is.”

“Me too. It’s there. Being... interesting.”

She glanced at their hands, still holding onto each other, and then they slowly let go.

“Okay,” she repeated. “It’s late...”

“It’s morning,” he corrected.

“So it is. You should sleep.”

“I was going to.”

“Of course you were. So I’ll do a bit of the ske and slap on some daddle. Get out of your head. Hair! I don’t think I’m in your head. I mean, I get that I might be... a little. But that I’m not there most of the time. Like when you’re going to bed you’re not thinking of me, you’re thinking ‘bed’.” An eyebrow slowly rose at that and she laughed. “Yeah, this is so gonna work.”

And with that she slipped out the door.

He smiled to himself. Then it faded as he wondered to what bed she was going.

¤

Buffy slept for half of the Saturday. It was well-earned rest and when she woke up she felt truly revived. She had made a date with Riley at three o’clock by their favorite tree and at three o’clock sharp she was there, looking her prettiest – or so she hoped. He linked their hands together and they walked up to a bench, having a seat.

He chuckled and she frowned, wondering.

“I was thinking about that night. Remember? When I saw you sitting here alone and I tried to get you to leave, and then you tried to get me to leave.”

She smiled.

“I remember,” she said, then she also remembered why she had been sitting there and her smile grew set as she looked at her free hand, fidgeting with the pattern on her skirt.

She had been acting as bate that night. For Spike.

“So, did anything fun happen in the...” she began, then rolled her eyes as she added: “Oh, I killed that one; I don’t know which state Iowa is. Is it the Mayflower state?”

“Do we have a Mayflower state?”

“Maybe we don’t. I always mix them up anyway.”

He smiled widely at that, running one hand through her hair as he replied:

“Nothing overly fun happened in the Mayflower state. My mom made her famous pie and uncle Ron came over with homemade ice cream and we sat on the porch watching the sun go down...”

“Sounds very un-fun,” she smirked, moving closer and putting her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad I didn’t have to come.”

He smiled at that, hugging her tight.

¤

“And pour toi, mademoiselle, we have a very fine connoisseur-ish sort of marshmallow, brought here by the very fine people of...” Jonathan read off the bag, and then continued: “Wisconsin. It is white, it is fluffy...”

“It isn’t popcorn,” Calor chimed in, making Ath’s smile widen even more.

“And most importantly, it is unhealthily sweet and melts on your tongue. Enjoy.”

Jonathan finished to applause from Ath, who then reached out and grabbed one of the marshmallows, nicely placed on a plate. She popped one in her mouth and soon she showed her approval.

“I knew you’d like that,” Jonathan smirked.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Calor yawned, Jonathan raising an eyebrow.

“Late night?”

“Oh, don’t jump to conclusions; he spent the time discussing fine art with Joyce. Really, Cale, how you’re able to cram all that into your brain and have yet to learn the subtleties of different kinds of chocolate, completely eludes me.”

“I guess it’s a shame we’re twins, then,” he shot and she made a face as he exited into the hallway.

“I like him,” Jonathan said and Ath rolled her eyes, which made him smile.

Cale walked up the stairs.

He hadn’t been able to get the look on Buffy’s face out of his head ever since she left him the day before. She was so torn up inside. So was he. These emotions were so new to him, and they scared him because he didn’t understand why he hadn’t been able to anticipate them; to anticipate this situation ultimately occurring by his playing with the Slayer’s devotion and beliefs. She doubted herself now. And all he could think of was how he could find a solution to the problems he’d caused her. Ease the pain.

How? he wondered. How can I ever?

The burden was getting heavier.

He wished so badly that he could make her see why he had done it, what he had thought it would bring her, and tell her he was sorry for having been so blind. So reckless with a fate that wasn’t his own; but which had been entrusted to him to care for. He was frightened that, by doing what he had done, he had ripped it apart.

He had spoken to Buffy about history. What really mattered was her future. She had no idea what was coming, what so many had spoken was supposed to come. Angel had only been a prologue, had been the key to open a lock deep down inside her, make her experience love as true and real as it could possibly be. Because she had to have that knowledge. She would come to need it, and the compassion which came with it. But now... perhaps he had ruined it. Ruined her. Or ruined it for her. For them both. Brought the Slayer and her champion nothing but raw pain, and a love that would never be recognized for what it was.

The young god leaned against the wall of Buffy’s room, looking around and remembering watching her move into it. He had guarded her, as he had those before her. But she had had an aura surround her that had always gotten to him in a different way. He had seen what good she would do.

But her stubbornness had aggravated him. Her reluctance to see what a gift she had been given, what a wonder the responsibility she was under actually was. How it would make her grow and set her in a space reserved for none but those of her lineage. That she couldn’t grasp that had, in a way, felt like a slap in the face.

When she made the wish, he had seen a chance to grant it and perhaps make her realize how much she had her powers to thank for. See the worth of her title. The facts he knew of the Slayer and the Vamp had made him sure that it wouldn’t hurt them, or what lay ahead, if they happened to befriend each other a little sooner. Alright, a lot sooner, but still, it hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea. Or incentive, rather. Or perhaps it had been more like a moment of spontaneous inspiration.

“I regret it,” he murmured, picking up a framed picture of Buffy. “But you’ll never know, will you?”

¤

Five hours later, and across town and a bit farther, Riley was watching Buffy getting ready for patrol. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and chose her leather coat, putting it on and turning to him with a smile.

“Alright,” she said. “What’s with the look?”

“I’m happy,” he replied. “You’ve made me happy.”

“Little ole me?”

He smiled as well, sitting up from where he had been lying on her bed and she sat down next to him.

“Sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he wondered and she nodded.

“Offer appreciated, but I’m on a one-girl mission tonight. I need to go extra stealthy; and not to be harsh, honey, but you’d crowd me. I’m sorry.”

He smiled a little again.

“Don’t worry,” he assured. “Just understand that I won’t ride the backseat every night. I can hold my own out there.”

She kissed him gently at that.

“I know,” she then said. “It’s just a stakeout, nothing big.”

“So let me come.”

“Riley,” she murmured, growing serious.

He grumbled, getting to his feet and she did as well. Then he wrapped his arms around her.

“Just come back to me,” he mumbled.

She closed her eyes, holding onto him and promising herself she wouldn’t let him down ever again. They had spent a great afternoon together. Talking and laughing and finally having things feel like they did before. Because they did finally feel exactly like before. It was as though the past few weeks had never happened. And she was very relieved.

She left the dorm, and the campus, and arrived in Sunnydale center heading passed the shops, the familiar spots and straight for a well-known cemetery. She had been debating the thought of what she was about to do. She had raised questions about moral and honesty and in the end she had decided that, no matter what happened beyond this point, she needed to do this.

She slowly approached his crypt, crouching down in the darkness of a cluster of trees and waiting. She sat perfectly still for nearly forty-five minutes and then the door opened. She felt her concentration sharpen as she watched him step through it.

He began walking and soon she followed, keeping a distance she knew was safe. Or at least hoped was safe from him noticing her presence. He was smoking. Like a chimney. As usual. So annoying. He flitted the cigarette away and she furrowed her brow in dislike.

That can start a fire, she thought reproachfully. Now, where are you going?

They walked for twenty minutes, the Slayer seeing no sign whatsoever that the vampire sensed her in any way. The outskirts of Sunnydale were passing by when he took a left and was out of sight. She swore silently, then softly treaded the pavement, moving closer to the wall of the building behind which he had disappeared, before she slowed down, carefully edging nearer to the corner. She stopped as she heard muffled voices, and as she couldn’t make them out properly she forced herself up to the corner and peaked around it.

“This is worth a helluva lot more than that,” Spike said, beginning to put a parcel back into his coat.

Buffy’s eyes involuntarily widened and then she took in the demon he was doing business with. It was small and thin, looked almost like a weasel. It now squeaked its disapproval of the merchandise being brought out of reach and Spike raised his eyebrows.

“Five hundred, mate, and not a penny less.”

The weasel seemed terribly aggravated as it began to dig around in its long fur coat for the cash. It brought up a wad of folded bills and Spike snatched them out of its grasp before throwing it the parcel. It caught it and clutched it protectively, glaring at the vampire, who merely smirked and put two fingers to his forehead before flaring them out as a farewell salute, heading back the way he’d come.

Buffy felt her heart stop, looking around and then up for some means of retreat. She saw a fire escape fifteen feet up. Bending her knees she took aim and then flung herself straight up, her hands catching the cold metal of the rail. She swung herself up easily and landed silently before pressing herself to the wall. She watched him pass below her and narrowed her eyes, her gaze following him as he continued down the street.

A few moments later she jumped over the rail and reached the pavement with a low thump, continuing forward almost instantly and being just in time to catch the weasel by the thick collar of its coat. Its eyes grew wide with terror.

“Tor,” it sputtered, shivering in her grasp. “Tor nethak sssorr!”

“I have no idea what you just said, but if it was anywhere near ‘Don’t hurt me’ all I can say is sorry,” she replied, pushing it back and it stumbled, cowering rather pathetically.

“Pleassse,” it hissed. “What do you whishhhh?”

“Oh, God, nothing. No wishes expressed from me. Ever. Again,” she answered, then added: “But I want to see what you just bought. And after you show it to me and explain exactly what you need it for – I have a few more questions. Answer them, and I’ll let you run. If you ever come back...”

“Never, Vampire Sssslayer,” the weasel bowed its head. “Your rulesss apply, I shhhall abide.”

She cocked an eyebrow at that.