Revisited

They barely talked on their way back to the crypt. Buffy searched for an opening phrase, but this time it was her brain lacking in the coming-up-with-something-good department.

Spike was quietly asking himself if there was anything he wouldn’t do for this woman. He went down a very long list of possible scenarios – in which he lost some very important parts – and had to admit that he wouldn’t back out of them for anything – if she needed him there.

How depressing. How pathetic. How had this happened? How had William stepped forward and trampled down every demonic emotion he had possessed? How had this love even been permitted to sow its first seed? Where had the soil come from? It should have been doomed from the beginning. It should have been sickened by blackness, unable to struggle through with this searing light. It should have died before it began to make him live. Live like this. Through her.

Bloody hell.

He really was a wanker.

But he needed her now. He wondered if he had ever needed anyone quite like this.

No, not quite like this. Not even Dru.

She had strengthened what was already in him, while Buffy had brought forth something that shouldn’t even be there.

He glanced at her.

She had said she trusted him... Would she trust him without the chip? Would he trust himself? Had he declined the chance to rid himself of this barrier, because he was petrified of what lie beyond it? But even the thought of feeding felt so far away now. He knew it would render his love for her worthless if he ever did anything to betray her in that way. No, he could never do that. But, God, why was she so bleeding scared of letting him in?

“What are you thinking?” she asked, just as they entered the cemetery hosting his crypt.

He smiled.

“Questions that I’d like answered,” he shrugged.

“Like what?”

He stopped and she did the same. For a few seconds he simply eyed her, and then he slowly furrowed his brow.

“Like ‘who sent the invitation’,” he then replied and she blinked, wonderingly.

He didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t need to as he simply looked over her shoulder. The next moment she had a familiar sensation fill her, and when she turned around she stood face to face with the last person she would have expected to show up in this undeclared fashion.

“Angel,” she mumbled, her mind going numb.

Indeed, it was. He smiled gently as he stepped forward.

“Hey,” he greeted, glancing at Spike as he added: “This the company you’re keeping these days?”

“It’s a step up from you, I know,” Spike nodded; adding in a conspiratorial whisper: “She’s still adjusting.”

“What’re you doing here?” Buffy asked Angel; giving Spike a look and making him merely raise his eyebrows in retort.

“That phone call sort of made me... curious.”

“Nervous,” Spike translated helpfully. “See how his left fingers are all twitchy? Nerves are all tingly. I remember the signs.” He paused. “Then again, I guess you already know them, don’t you?”

The last came out rather sourly, and Buffy sighed unnoticeably before she turned to him and said:

“Maybe you should head home?”

“Maybe I should,” he agreed, not moving.

“Spike,” she murmured.

“Oh, wink-wink-nudge-nudge,” he replied. “Right, of course, wouldn’t wanna be in the way of you two catching up and... catching up. The way I reckon you would. You would, wouldn’t you?” he asked Angel, who narrowed his eyes and then smiled self-assuredly.

“Sure would,” he replied.

Buffy could feel the tension building and she laughed to break it.

“Yes, catching up is much needed, so you go home, Spike, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Great,” Angel said, taking a step forward to stand at Buffy’s side.

“Great,” Spike mimicked him, though his face was far from relaxed and his gaze was nearly burning a hole through the other.

“Great,” Buffy nodded, grabbing Angel’s arm and beginning to walk away. “Goodnight!” she added.

Spike gritted his teeth. He couldn’t move his feet from the spot for another two minutes.

Angel got his arm out of Buffy’s hold as they rounded a row of tall hedges, which rendered them out of sight from the other vampire. Angel had a soft, questioning crinkle between his eyebrows, and as Buffy looked up at him, she came to the conclusion that she didn’t particularly like it.

“What exactly has happened since I left here?” he asked.

“You mean since the last time you dropped by uninvited?” she shot mercilessly, crossing her arms over her chest in a defiant gesture.

He decided to overlook it.

“You’re patrolling with Spike now?” he inquired, incredulous.

“We weren’t... patrolling, per say.”

“Then what, per say, were you doing?”

“He was helping me...”

“Now, there... right there. That’s the problem.” Buffy frowned, impatience seeping into her features. “’Helping’ shouldn’t be present in that sentence,” Angel elaborated, but his sarcasm was lost as her expression merely grew annoyed.

“Yeah, well, you haven’t exactly been around to know what’s going on, have you?”

“You’re putting this on me? You hanging out with Spike is my fault?”

“That’s not...!” she trailed off, drawing a slight breath to calm down. “That’s not what I’m saying,” she continued. “It’s just... I’ve barely spoken to you since Christmas. It wasn’t easy for me to call you. And I hate not being able to talk to you.”

“I’m here now,” he said with a smile. “Lines of communication are wide open. Talk to me.”

She clenched her jaws together.

“It’s the same old. ...Big Bad seems larger than life and impossible to destroy. We’re working on a way to get to him... He has a plan we’re trying our best to figure out. Willow and Giles are heading up the brain of the operation, and me and...”

She stopped herself, eyes in Angel’s, and he was hit with realization as to where that sentence had been going.

“You and Spike,” he filled in. “He’s actually working with you on this?”

“Can you stop with the bafflement? It’s not like he never did anything good in his life.”

“In his life, I don’t know what he did. In his death, he never was much for benevolence.”

Buffy met his gaze steadily.

“Until now,” she replied.

He stared at her, then slowly began to walk, and she followed the movement.

“You’re call was about him, wasn’t it?” he asked, and when she refused to answer he shook his head a little. “Unbelievable.”

“What?” she muttered.

“And you believe him, don’t you?” he merely continued.

“I don’t need this from you,” she said.

“You ask me about vampires capability to love, I’ll tell you what I think is the truth. But Spike! If you’d told me you were asking on behalf of that bleached...”

“I was asking on behalf of me!” she interrupted him, coming to a halt and facing him. “And so what if I’d told you? You’d told me he isn’t capable? He isn’t like the rest of you? That I shouldn’t believe a single word he says, because everything that comes out of his mouth is untruths and deceit!”

Angel observed her, then replied:

“How’d you know?”

She pulled her hands through her hair in frustration.

“I’m getting so sick of this,” she said. “Of people telling me what I should or shouldn’t believe. You haven’t been close to him in a century, what the hell do you know!”

She exclaimed the last, and his eyes widened.

“Implying that you have been close to him?”

She swallowed, then raised her chin a little, but her confidence was wavering.

“It wasn’t... supposed to... I made a wish,” she then said.

“To be close to Spike?”

“No, you idiot! ...To be fifteen again. And I ended up in Spike’s... care, or what you wanna call it.” Angel looked stricken, and she smiled, though it was melancholy. “He saved my life, Angel.”

“So you decide to depend on him?”

“I’m not,” she shook her head. “But I would, if it came to that.”

“Of course it’ll come to that. He’ll see to it that it comes to that. Dammit, Buffy, you can’t...”

“It’s already done,” she once more cut in, this time gently. “I’m sorry if you came all this way for nothing. And I’m sorry if you can’t understand. But things are different now. Between you and me. Between me and him. There’s no use arguing about it, or saying it shouldn’t be this way, ‘cause there’s nothing either of us can do about it.”

Angel took a step closer, watching her face.

“Are you telling me that you...?”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. She looked at him for a short moment, then said:

“No.”

There was a lapse of silence, where they both observed each other.

“Things with you and me... They’re not that different,” he finally said tentatively, smiling a little.

She returned it.

“But things with me and him are,” she replied.

“Then I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Does any of us really know what we’re doing?” she retorted, and he smirked. “Don’t worry about me,” she added.

“Never,” he smiled, and she huffed, but smiled as well.

¤

Spike put the flame his lighter produced to the wick of one of the candles still standing in the niches of the small windows of his crypt. He had lit most of them already. He didn’t know what for. Perhaps in hope that they’d serve as a beacon. That she’d find her way there. He wanted to see her. Even if it was briefly. See if he could smell the bastard on her.

There was a knock at the door and he paused, glancing that way and then clicking his lighter shut, waiting.

Soon enough the door slid open, and the bastard stepped through it.

“Well, well,” Spike grumbled. “I’d say welcome, but we’d both know I’d be lying.”

Angel offered an ironic smile, then sauntered further into the room, looking around.

“Wow,” he said. “This place must be a sure card with the ladies. Or is that... ‘lady’ these days? Feel like I can never be sure, time does fly so fast when you’re happy never seeing each other.”

“Mh,” Spike agreed with a small smirk. “She tell you then?”

“No,” Angel replied, having a seat in the armchair; something which had Spike’s gaze darken considerably. Angel paid no heed. “She didn’t tell me that. She told me other, more disturbing, things. Things that brought me here.”

“You come to defend her from the evil undead? Yes, I would think that’s what you bleeding well do best? Only, usually, that involves you skipping town... So whatever did you come here for?”

Angel’s face grew set at that, and so the sarcasm was dropped, their eyes serious in the others.

“What are you doing?” Angel finally demanded.

“It’s out of my hands. I bloody can’t...”

“Don’t make excuses to me!” Angel exclaimed, rising. “I don’t know what this rooted fascination with Slayers is with you, but if you’re gonna kill her, at least be as upfront about it as you always have been. I’m not putting up with you jerking her around like this!”

Spike smiled at that, and Angel stared at him – taken aback.

“Would be so much easier if I was,” Spike said. “Would be a relief – to be honest. To be able to say this is what I’m doing, this is why I’m bloody doing it... Here’s where I stand.” He paused, shaking his head a fraction, then continued: “But now all that’s a blur. And she’s in the middle of it, stirring it the hell up. You know what I mean. I can see it on your face. She reaches into places you didn’t know were there and rips them to the surface. Ain’t pretty, but there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. ...I don’t wanna do anything about it.”

He mumbled the last, looking away from his grandsire and turning back to the candles. He lit the last three, feeling Angel’s eyes follow his every movement.

“Thought she was already taken.”

“She is,” Spike muttered, turning back to the other.

“Riley... Soldier, right?”

“Bloody poof, if you ask me.”

“Not really asking.”

Spike shrugged at that.

Angel hesitated, then added:

“So, what’s he like?”

Spike glanced at him.

“Tall, dark, irritating – regular photocopy of you,” he answered.

Angel sighed.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here... Buffy’s far from needing my protection.”

Spike smirked, walking into the kitchen and grabbing two bags of blood.

“That’s the trick, though,” he said. “She doesn’t need it, but she wants it. And you can sense she wants it. So you watch over her from afar, yeah... Don’t wanna crowd her, but still can’t help it. To ease your own mind. And even if she’ll never admit it, she’s grateful. She needs you there, right? Needs to know you’re in the shadows... Makes them seem a little less scary.”

He handed Angel the cup of blood he’d prepared, and Angel took it, looking into it before taking a mouthful.

“I guess,” he then said. “Sometimes I wonder though.”

They took a seat.

“What?”

“If she really wants it? If it’s not all...”

“Just in your head?” Spike filled in. “Yeah...”

They were quiet for a while, finishing their dinner.

“Good stuff,” Angel commented as they rose and he handed Spike the cup.

“Yeah, buy it off a new butcher. Fresher,” Spike replied.

Angel eyed him for a second, then headed for the door.

“Ever in L.A.” he said.

“I won’t come a’ knocking,” Spike reassured and Angel smirked.

“That’s my boy,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Spike turned his eyes skyward before heading into the kitchen area.

He had no idea what to make of that encounter.

¤

Ath opened her eyes and looked at Jonathan, who was sleeping next to her.

She reached out a hand and touched his face gently.

They were in his room. All night they had talked about nothing at all, it felt, and still, somehow, about only important things. He was such a beautiful soul. He had so much goodness in him that had been wasted for so many years. She felt for him.

They had gotten so sleepy they had finally given in, and she could see dawn spread its chilled glow outside the window. So, then they must have slept for a few hours. They had done nothing more than that, and she felt like it was a revelation.

“Beloved,” she whispered, moving closer and softly placing her lips to his forehead.

He stirred a little and she smiled. Sliding her cheek against his she let her mouth find his, kissing him gently.

What a new sensation it was. Flesh upon flesh.

He woke then.

Soon the pressure she was applying was reciprocated and then his tongue carefully made her part her lips. Her eyes opened in surprise. But she met the deepening kiss and she felt the most extraordinary feeling right below her waist, in the center of her... A fire that had never been there before, not like this.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave into it.

¤

Buffy glanced up at Willow, who was studying. Well, technically Buffy was studying too, only she had given up trying to concentrate about half an hour earlier. That time had been spent in desperate search of how to talk to Willow about what had happened last night.

“Angel thinks I’m making a mistake trusting Spike,” she finally blurted, Willow raising her head in surprise.

“Does that have anything to do with trigonometry?” she asked and Buffy whined. “Alright,” Willow said, sitting up. “What happened?”

“Well, Angel stopped by last night.”

“Angel was here?”

“Yes. Yes, he was. He stumbled across me and Spike...”

“Oh, my God, what were you doing!”

“Talking!” Buffy replied with a frown. “Jeez, Will.”

“Sorry,” Willow said. “Go on.”

“And he got all stare-y and Spike got all stare-y and so I took Angel out of there and then he asked me what was going on and I told him and he said he thought I was making a mistake. Well, he didn’t say it in so many words, but he pretty much stated it. Almost with a line under it. A thick, black line in permanent marker. And know what really annoys me? He has no right. He has no right to barge in here and presume he knows exactly what’s going on, like he’s wiser than the wise, like he’s... Giles. Yeah, that’s who he was acting like. The father patting the child on the head saying no, no, don’t jump off the bridge or you’ll drown, little one. What does he think, that I can’t swim!”

Willow furrowed her brow, unsure of if she was expected to comment.

“Um...” she tried. “You did drown that one time.”

“Hey! Not the point,” Buffy said. “And it wasn’t from jumping off a bridge, so it doesn’t count.”

“Were you gonna... jump off a bridge?”

“No! Not a bridge. Spike’s the bridge.”

“Spike’s the bridge?”

“Yes.”

“Where does he lead?”

“What?”

“If Spike’s a bridge, where’d he take you?”

“I’m not walking on the bridge; I’m standing, holding the rail, about to jump off the bridge.”

“Oh... But wasn’t Angel talking about how it was wrong for you to be with Spike?”

“Not with.”

“Near Spike?”

“Yeah...” Buffy said hesitantly.

“So then, if you’re jumping off Spike... doesn’t that take you away from him? Shouldn’t Spike be the river?”

“What?”

“The river. You know, like how you know how to swim, ergo you can take care of yourself and make whatever decisions need to be made about whatever relationships you wanna engage in. Wasn’t that what you were saying?”

Buffy pouted, sitting back.

“I don’t know; I’m all confused now.”

¤

Calor looked up as the front door opened. Ath practically twirled her way through it. Her face was split in a smile. He felt irritation billow up inside of him.

“Where’ve you been! I’ve been worried about you,” he stated as he met her half way.

Her smile widened.

“Humanity’s catching up with you,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek before heading into the kitchen. “I’m starving,” she stated, opening the fridge.

“Joyce made something with meat last night,” Calor said. “It was quite good. The texture was rather odd. I suppose it’s all a matter of taste. Why are you beaming?”

“Cale, you’d never understand why I’m beaming,” she replied, taking a pint of ice cream out of the freezer and retrieving a bowl and spoon.

“I needed to talk to you last night,” he said.

“I know. But I had better things to do.”

“You forget why we’re here.”

She met his gaze, growing somber in the next blink, putting the spoon down.

“Did something happen?”

“Angel came.” Ath’s eyebrows rose. “He confronted Spike. The balance has shifted.”

“It might not have.”

“Ath...”

She shook her head, walking around the island to stand next to him instead, lowering her voice.

“Even if it has, it may be what’s best; what’s meant to happen.”

“What?”

“Maybe you were supposed to cast that spell. Maybe our father knew you were going to, because he set you up, ever think of that? Maybe this has all been a wild goose chase, designed to lead us in circles, bringing us back to precisely where we started.”

Calor stared at her.

“I know what happened last night,” he then said.

Her eyes widened.

“Nothing happened.”

“It must’ve, if you’re suddenly aiming at turning this into an X-file.” She grew impatient with not comprehending the jibe and he waved it away, continuing with: “Bortha is going to call on you, be sure of that. Nothing goes passed him unnoticed.”

“I just want to know what the purpose is!” she exclaimed. “After all, even we can’t control love, Calor. And that’s why they sent us down here, to strive to attempt the impossible. Love was why your spell made everything go wonky. You can’t put that emotion out there to be tapped into and expect it to not have some effect on its environment.”

“Are you calling the vampire an environment now?”

“If you have a plan, I’m willing to hear it. But don’t expect me to come up with a brilliant solution. I think my work is done.”

“Your work’s done? You’re what brought us to this point. You and your meddling, straightening out of emotions.” He huffed and she glowered. “Yes, all of this was brought forth by my mistake, but you have added your share to it. And frankly I fear there’s no way to set this straight. I have thought for some time I might not be able to rectify it. If this means banishment to an earthly existence, so be it. You’re right. I tapped into forces well beyond my control... And the repercussions are what lie before us.”

She eyed him wonderingly, but he’d say no more and she felt she needed to try and make him understand at least some aspect of where she was coming from. Why she was feeling as she was.

“We have been given a chance,” she said. “One that’s never been given to any of our kin. To see the world from its point of view, and not ours. Have you taken it yet, Cale? Have you enjoyed the Earth? It’s a grand place.”

He observed her for a moment.

“You’re in love,” he mumbled and she blushed for the first time, looking away from him. “Do you realize what you’re doing?”

“Yes,” she said.

“You will have to leave him. No matter the outcome.”

The sudden hurt in her gaze struck him like a blow to the cheek, and she slowly turned from him, walking into the dining room and continuing to the hall she softly replied:

“I know.”

¤

Buffy smiled with unhidden glee as Spike threw his cards on the table. They were in his crypt, dawn just spreading its first glow outside the windows.

“Happy now?” he asked.

The emotion in her expression changed at that, and she could feel it all over.

“I think I am,” she replied gently, and he smiled as he slipped one ring off one finger, putting it on the table and then pushing it across to her.

“Your winnings, milady,” he said, and she gently reached out, picking it up.

A diamond almost blinded her as it caught the first rays of the sun and she glanced up at him. When she looked back at what she had in her hand it had turned into a small bird, blinking its black eyes as it observed her. It took flight, and banged its wings against the slanting wall above her bed.

She was in her room.

Rising she ran up to her window, trying to get it open, but unable to. She reached back one hand and was about to ram it through one of the panes, but the feel of fingers on hers stopped her, and she heard Ath’s voice softly whisper in her ear:

“It’s not the only way.”

Buffy turned her head, but the room behind her was empty.

She walked out of it and down the hall to the stairs, looking back as she heard the bird follow her. Proceeding down the stairs she opened the front door and stepped outside. Night crept its familiar paths around her, and then the bird fluttered passed her shoulder, flying into the shadows.

She looked where it had gone and for a brief moment longed for wings.

“It wouldn’t make it easier,” Calor said, standing at her side.

“Maybe it would.”

“You’d fall. I know.”

“How?”

“I know these things.” He looked at her, soberly. “You would break, and scatter, and no one could ever put you back together again.”

“And who can put me back together again now?”

“You,” Spike said, and she turned around to face him as he stepped down the ladder of his crypt. “Inside perspective, remember?”

“But I can’t see? I can’t get this off,” she mumbled, having something in front of her that blurred her sight.

“I can,” he said, reaching out and carefully brushing it away.

She stared at him, feeling as though she was a fool for believing that she could move on from this. Then she smiled, and he returned it.

“But you know I’m already gone,” he said and she reached up a hand, gently placing it against his cheek.

Suddenly he was surrounded by light and his skin burned her as she touched it. She felt her eyes widen and then he crumbled into nothing before her. Behind the spot where he had been, stood Adam. The grotesque figure of him seemed to grow into nothing but a cloud of darkness, expanding to swallow her whole.

She woke with a jerk as Giles’ hand touched her shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asked and she sat up, getting sleep out of her eyes and nodding a little, unsure of what had just happened.

“Bad dream,” she mumbled.

He eyed her for another moment, then turned back to Willow and Tara.

Really bad dream, Buffy thought, her heart still hammering in her chest.

She had to suppress a need to go and see if the vampire was alright. What if something had happened last night?

No, she told herself. No, nothing has. But something’s going to.

At that she felt a knot form in her stomach. It was big and dark and threatened to swallow her whole.

¤

For once Spike hadn’t been able to go to sleep. No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn’t envelope him. Wouldn’t hush all the disturbed worries circling his head. Wouldn’t grant him needed rest. Finally he thought to hell with it and got up, deciding to go see if he couldn’t find her, since she seemed not to be about to come knocking down his door anytime soon. He hated running after her like this, but there was only so much a bloke could take. And when she was running around with ex-blokes and current-blokes and God knew who else...

Bloody hell. She had done this to him, and then she’d left him to die. Maybe all the signs he kept thinking he saw on her every time they were close to each other, were all wrong. Perhaps he was just kidding himself. Like she had once said: perhaps he really was only seeing what he wanted to see.

Fifteen minutes later he slammed the front door of the Summers home shut behind him, pushing his duster off his head. Waving his hand a little at the smoke emanating from him, he had a look around. Seemed empty. Of course, it was a Saturday afternoon. Slayer was probably meeting up with her posse someplace and mummy Summers surely had better things to do than to...

“Spike?”

Busted.

“It is Spike, isn’t it?” Joyce asked, coming from the dining room and into the hall, where a very old vampire was growing very sheepish.

“Yeah...”

She didn’t look as welcoming as she always had before, and soon enough it hit him why.

“I know you didn’t approve of Buffy staying with me, and I want to apologize,” he said, amazed at how quickly the words fell from his mouth. “It wasn’t planned, in any way. And I did try to make her go the hell away, but she’s so bloody stubborn! ...All I want said is: I know you didn’t want her there and I know I didn’t have any right to... to take care of her.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Joyce... Erg, Mrs. Summers, your daughter is one of the best people I’ve ever known.” He paused, retracing his entire history in one fell swoop and promptly correcting himself by continuing: “Actually, she is the only really good person I’ve ever known. I want you to understand that I respect her. That I didn’t before, but that I do now. So maybe some good came out of it.”

“Is that really why you came here today? To offer your apologies?”

“No,” he confessed.

“You came here for Buffy.”

“Yes... She in?”

“No, she’s at Giles’.”

“I sort of figured that. Just not on the way here.”

She looked at his shoulder, where a small pillar of smoke was still visible. He noticed where her gaze was resting, his own going there as well, and he quickly flailed one hand at the spot, smiling a little.

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea, perhaps?”

He couldn’t hide how unexpected this show of hospitality was to him. He had been certain he was a second away from being politely thrown out the door.

“Sure,” he said. “Either.”

“Got a fresh pot just made,” she said. “Come on in.”

She led the way into the kitchen and he hesitantly followed.

“It’s coffee,” she said, grabbing the pot and a cup, putting the latter down before pouring the liquid into it.

“I don’t mind.”

She gave him a half smile, sliding the cup over to him before picking up her own, which had already been prepared. There was silence for a short while, Spike bringing the cup to his lips and taking a slow sip.

“From what I gather you’ve lived for quite some time, so you must’ve known some good people before meeting my daughter,” Joyce commented, making Spike raise his eyebrows.

“I suppose,” he agreed. “But none quite like her.”

“I don’t think anyone’s quite like Buffy.”

He smiled.

“No, not quite.”

There was the first hint of a real smile on her lips and then she leaned forward against the island, eyeing him for a long moment.

“I’d rather you left her alone, you clearly have already understood that,” she said and he nodded slowly. “I don’t understand, though,” she then sighed. “What is it about your kind that draws her to you like a moth to a flame? It seems like one of fate’s cruel ironies.”

“One of them,” he nodded. “The other big one is our kind being so completely drawn to her...”

He trailed off after that, wondering if he should speak so openly about this unyielding devotion he held for her daughter... She didn’t approve of it, after all.

But as she once again observed him he felt he should be entirely frank with her. She spoke before he got the chance to, however.

“I can’t say anymore what’s best for Buffy, and it pains me immensely, but I have to admit it to myself. She has grown on her own, has been forced to, and she’s moved out from under my wing. My protective urges seem fruitless, even pointless. Well, don’t they?” He gave a nod. “I guess I’ll never truly outgrow them, but I’ll have to overlook them. Let her make her own choices. Her own mistakes.”

“I think, once she makes a choice, it’s usually the right one,” he mumbled. “She’s not very prone to mistakes.”

“You think?”

“Don’t you?”

“I’ve only seen her... fight a few times... Every time it’s like the first. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“I know what you mean. She’s got one mean left hook.”

Joyce raised her eyebrows at that and the vampire again grew sheepish, smirking a little.

“She’s a clever girl,” he then stated.

“Yes,” Joyce said slowly, “but she is only a girl.”

He smiled.

“She’s so much more than that,” he remarked.

“How old are you, really?”

“Wouldn’t it be better you didn’t know?”

“No,” she replied firmly, “tell me.”

“Almost a century... and a half,” he finally said and her eyes grew.

She was silent for two dragged out minutes, where he waited for any kind of reaction but she just stared into her coffee. Finally she shook her head a little and fastened her gaze in his once more.

“Buffy’s only nineteen,” she said, voice soft with incomprehension.

He couldn’t help the nearly apologetic look that came into his eyes. He didn’t know how to explain this to her.

“I know,” he finally said.

“Compared to you, she’s still a child.”

“No, she’s far from a child,” he replied gently. “I know you know that.”

She took a mouthful of coffee, making a face as it had cooled considerably, then she gave a small shrug, not quite looking at him.

“She’s been talking about a boy... At her school,” she said, locking eyes with Spike again.

“Mrs. Summers, Buffy and I are associates, partners...” he said, filling in with: “Nothing more.”

“You don’t like it very much, do you?” she asked.

“’S fine,” he said, defensively. “’S not the plan I had when I came to this bleedin’ town, but I suppose it works, since it’s the only way to work out the kinks between us. As it is, I’d rather be on her good side than her bad side anyway.”

She looked as though she could see right into him.

“That’s not what I meant,” she then said.

His resolve from before had left him and now he didn’t know how to respond.

“She’s with the boy,” he finally murmured.

Joyce watched as he drank some coffee. An odd feeling rested at the base of her spine, and it disturbed her. She remembered the few encounters she had had with him. He seemed different. More together, and yet somehow completely torn apart. His eyes held such sadness now. The power she had seen on him seemed changed as well. He had strength about him which she took to be a part of his being; she had felt the same emanate from Angel. But the destructive force of that strength now seemed lessened.

“Refill?” she asked as he put the cup down.

¤

Buffy stepped through the door at a quarter passed eleven that evening. Her head was pounding. She had hit her temple on the edge of a tombstone walking home. No attacker, not even a branch to stumble on, just her feet... She felt like a complete fool and had thanked her lucky stars that no one had been around to witness the embarrassment. She supposed she had been slightly preoccupied, though. Trying to keep from walking passed Spike’s crypt; purely to see if there were any candles lit, of course. She had no idea what she would say to him when she saw him next. And she wondered what sort of mood he’d be in.

Maybe that was why she was pushing the encounter on the future as much as possible. The longer it took, the more time he would have to... forgive and forget? Damn it, it wasn’t like she was betraying him. She and he weren’t... involved. If he got a little jealous there was nothing she could do about that. She would see Angel again. And again. And probably again after that. She didn’t want Spike pouting and whining and behaving like a child just because she happened to still get along with her ex...

The sound of laughter interrupted her thoughts and she paused in the doorway before closing the door behind her, a frown placing itself on her brow.

It was her mother’s laugh. And... But it couldn’t be.

She unbuttoned her jacket as she walked forward into the living room, stopping short, her brow untangling as her eyebrows rose instead.

Spike looked slightly taken aback, but Joyce kept her smile on, getting to her feet.

“You’re home,” she said, stroking Buffy’s arm as she passed her. “I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

“I’m... I’m fine,” Buffy said hesitantly, her eyes not having left Spike’s. As Joyce left the room – not paying her daughter’s decline of a beverage any heed – Buffy added: “What is this?” Spike gave her a look, not understanding. “What are you doing in my house? With my mother?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Where’s the trust?”

“Spike, I’m only asking...”

“Are you?”

She felt how tense she was getting. The last time she had seen him... This was the last place she had expected to meet him. And this was a situation she would never even have fathomed.

She slipped her coat off her shoulders, throwing it aside and coming up to sink down on the couch next to him.

“I came here looking for you,” he said and she turned her head to him.

“Adam?”

“No...”

She eyed him.

“Angel,” she then said and he smiled slightly, unsure of why he suddenly felt younger than her. “Look...”

“You’re not gonna tell me anything I haven’t already heard you say in my head,” he silenced her. “Let’s leave it.”

“Fine,” she agreed.

He was silent for a moment, then asked:

“Snog him?”

She gave him a reproachful look, then had to smile a little.

“No,” she answered, giving his leg a push with her own. “What kinda girl do you take me for?” she added.

He smirked.

“Apologies, lady,” he said, inclining his head, making her smile widen.

Joyce returned with Buffy’s coffee, Buffy taking the cup, but refraining from drinking. The caffeine wouldn’t improve the still pounding sensation in her head.

“Thanks,” she still said as Joyce sat down in the armchair.

“Spike was just telling me a pretty amusing story,” Joyce said. “Perhaps you’d like to hear it?”

“Maybe I’ve heard it,” Buffy remarked, eyes on Spike.

“No, you haven’t,” he replied. “It’s about Drusilla.”

A flash of Spike entwined in deep lip-lock with the vampiress came before Buffy’s eyes and she blinked it away quickly.

“Oh, do tell,” she simply said, her heart beat elevating precariously.

“We were in Prague. A while back. She was getting weaker by the day, and I wanted to do something nice for her...”

“This doesn’t involve children, does it?”

“Think your mum would find it amusing if it did?”

He had a point and she settled back to listen. She glanced over at her mother, who seemed relaxed. Enjoying herself. What had happened to bring this about? Spike went on telling his story, Joyce smiling and Buffy doing the same, though she was barely hearing the words. Her mind was racing with other thoughts. With a rush of possibility, belief that this was the beginning of something. A diamond blinding her.

“Buffy,” Joyce’s voice broke through.

“Sorry...” she said. “Must’ve zoned out. I’m a little tired.”

“Go up and go to bed, I’ll deal with the dishes,” Joyce instructed.

Buffy glanced at Spike, but feeling how tired she truly was she slowly rose, walking around the table to give her mother a kiss goodnight. When she turned, Spike got to his feet and there wasn’t more than a few inches separating them. She looked up at him, feeling her heart jump into an eager thump within her. His fingers moved up, slipping over her forehead to her temple, moving away her hair and eyeing the bruise beginning to show.

“You okay?” he asked and she brought her hand up, sliding it over his and then bringing his down with it as she lowered her arm.

“Aren’t I always?” she asked with a small smile, but her hand still rested lightly in his and she thought of what he was going to do for her, what he was willing to do for her, what he was risking for her.

Because it was for her he would go and stand face to face with Adam. She didn’t want to consider what might happen if his poker face ever slipped.

She remembered her dream, what it had felt like when his ashes had scattered before her. Like a piece of her went with it, irrevocably.

“No,” he murmured now, his free hand gently touching the shoulder that had been wounded, what felt like years ago now, and adding: “Not always.”

She suddenly grew aware of how not alone they were in the room, and made herself break away from him, stepping back and turning a smile on her mother.

“Goodnight,” she said and Joyce gave a nod, watching as Buffy left the room.

“Well,” the elder said, rising.

“Let me help you with that,” Spike offered, grabbing the emptied plate of brownies – supplied by Ath – and his and Buffy’s cup, leaving Joyce her own to bring into the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Joyce said and they walked through the living room in silence until she said: “Drusilla... You talk of her with great affection.”

“I think I’ll always feel affection for the crazy bird, doesn’t matter what she did to me.”

“I think I understand that,” Joyce nodded. “Buffy’s father and I... Well, it’s sort of the same.”

“Mh. Can’t choose who you love, or isn’t that the tune?”

“Yes, and isn’t it unfortunate?”

Buffy leaned against the wall at the top step of the stairs, wishing her legs didn’t ache to go down and rejoin them.

Spike glanced up at the ceiling. If the Slayer thought he couldn’t sense how close she was, she was delusional. He wanted to will her back down, almost tried to reach out for her with everything in him and persuade her to come stand at his side, but then the door opened and Ath and Calor came through it.

Joyce turned around, a smile on.

“Hello there,” she greeted.

“Hey, Joyce,” Ath smiled back. “Still up, I see.”

“Unexpected company.”

“Ah. Where’s Buffy?”

“At the top of the stairs,” Spike replied in Joyce’s place, waiting for only a moment before he heard soft padding of feet aloft.

He couldn’t hold down a smile.

Ath noticed it, and he noticed that she noticed it, but he merely cocked an eyebrow, bringing out a fag before heading to the door.

“Joyce,” he gave a nod goodbye and she smiled, returning it before he exited.

“I’m off to bed,” she said. “Don’t stay up too late.”

The twins gave her a smile each as she walked out of the room, proceeding upstairs.

“That vampire really doesn’t like me,” Ath muttered.

“He barely seems to see me,” Calor commented.

“You’re not close to Buffy. He can sense that I am. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m pretty close to Buffy,” Calor disagreed silently, making his sister smile another smile.

“I might try to make amends,” she said.

“For what?”

“For barging into their lives unannounced. He didn’t like it. He doesn’t like things he can’t trust.”

“Hmh,” Calor huffed, “no wonder he’s the way he is.”

“I’d like to rebuild whatever bridges I’ve burned,” she said.

“What for?”

“Because I want to.”

¤

It had been a good evening, though he never would have expected to have anything in common with Joyce. They had been able to speak quite freely about a lot of things. She had been curious about the life he had lead, and though he hadn’t told her the more gruesome details, he had tried to be as honest as he could. She knew things, of course. Things she must’ve heard from Buffy. Slowly but surely, though, she had started to open up about the fears she had for her daughter. Once she started talking it seemed like such a relief to her to get to speak about it. It was strange how much he had to realize that he shared them. The thought of Buffy actually ever dying...

No, he didn’t want it even near his head.

He stepped into his crypt and immediately knew he wasn’t alone. Turning his head to the right his gaze landed in Adam’s.

Alright, he thought. Here we go.

Ad Noctum

“I am hoping for good news,” Adam stated.

Spike closed the front door behind him, stepping into his crypt and facing the large demon.

“Regretfully I have to tell you I don’t have any. Messing with the Slayer’s head... Didn’t work. Tried to split the group. No luck. But I told you, they’re a tight-nit little click of teenspirit.”

“And you tried?”

“Even put some elbow-grease into it... Didn’t help.”

“I see,” Adam said, though he looked hugely disapproving and far from seeing eye to eye with anything he had just been told. “Are you still welcome among them?”

Spike smiled.

“You know it,” he replied.

Adam pressed a button placed in the metal plating of his chest and a floppy disk popped out. He held it up.

“Take this to her,” he said. “It’s imperative that she has it in her possession. Soon the wheels will start churning, you see. And I do so need her help to grind the bones.”

¤

Buffy spun around, lying on her back, refusing to open her eyes. She was going to go to sleep if it so killed her.

Stop thinking about him, she grumbled to herself. Stop thinking about him. Stopthinkingabouthimstopthinkingabouthimstopthinkingabouthim!

But the look in his blue eyes when he rested them in hers wouldn’t leave her this time.

¤

“This is impossible,” Calor grumbled the following morning, huddled over a crossword puzzle at the breakfast table.

Buffy leaned closer to look at what he was doing, frowned and refrained from even attempting to help.

“Thought you were supposed to be a smart guy,” she remarked, teasingly.

“I am a smart guy!” he assured, too sulky to pick up on the tease. “I’m bright as a bloody light bulb. But I don’t connect the short words with these longer ones and the crisscrossing and... Ugh!”

Buffy smirked.

“Anyone who uses ‘bloody’ when they curse just flashes ignorance to me,” she said, pity in her voice before she rose, patting his shoulder and heading into the kitchen.

“That’s harsh,” he merely muttered. “Oh, and, by the way, did you invite Spike last night?”

“No. Apparently he stopped by and he and mom got to talking and... Why?”

“No reason. Ath was wondering.”

“Really? Why?”

“If you were okay with Spike coming over.”

“Oh... why? She wanna invite him over?”

“I don’t know,” Calor replied truthfully.

“Where is she?”

“She went to the store to get some supplies.”

“Baking again?”

“Yeah. She’s inexhaustible.”

There was silence for a short while.

“I didn’t know Ath liked Spike that much.”

“I don’t know that she does... I don’t even know why she wanted to know. I’m purely speculating. Don’t pay any attention to me.”

She smiled a little, but it faded.

Ath was a beautiful woman. The Slayer knew that in all practicality and reason she had no right to feel any stir of jealousy, not the way she had last night at the mention of Drusilla, and not the way she did now at the thought of Ath hosting any warmer emotions toward the vampire... that could be reciprocated. She was a very beautiful woman...

But she was starting something with Jonathan, wasn’t she?

Buffy looked at the kitchen door, but her hopes of it opening within ten seconds, letting Ath through it, proved false and she sat down on one of the stools, pulling the newspaper spread on the island to her and beginning to read with feigned patience.

¤

She didn’t see Ath that morning since Willow soon called and asked her to come to Giles’, this before Ath had gotten back. So Buffy had spent most of the day at the apartment, talking things over with the Scoobies, reading up on old as well as new ways of war, trying to prepare for whatever Adam may throw their way. At seven o’clock there was a knock on the door, and without waiting for an invitation, Spike stepped through it.

Buffy, who had been lying on the couch, sat up a little too quickly at the sound of his voice. Feeling herself flushing as he turned his gaze in hers, she smiled a little and moved around, back then to him.

“Red,” he said as Willow came into the room.

She looked at him wonderingly and he brought out the disk, handing it to her.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, but it’s important that you find out. At least it is to Adam.”

Willow raised her eyebrows, then walked up to her laptop, already set up, and popped the disk in, taking a seat. Buffy rose, clearing her throat and straightening out her clothes, nonchalantly running a hand through her locks as she came up to join the others.

“What you got?” she asked, leaning with one hand against the desk.

“Not sure,” Willow mumbled.

Then Spike placed a hand on Buffy’s wrist and gently pulled her aside.

This new thrill of desire rushing forth whenever she was near him now, what was it the product of? Her trust? The small surge of longing that kept making itself known was one she knew well, and yet she wasn’t sure it was exactly the same. For some reason she didn’t care. She had finally given up trying to keep it away.

“He’s forging dark plans that involve you,” he said, voice low and she stared up at him, almost stepping into him, but forcing the want down the next moment.

“He came to see you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

He couldn’t remember. Why was he even there again? If it wasn’t to be standing in front of her... then why? His hand began to move up, his fingertips longing for the soft skin of her cheek, but he reverted it to his own neck, scratching it and taking a slight step back, saying an awkward hello to Giles, who looked at him rather funnily.

“Spike,” Buffy said, “what did he say?”

“He’s skirting the details, doesn’t wanna give it away,” he answered, wondering how to interpret the way she was studying him. “But it has something to do with that disk, and the final stages of whatever he’s planning. He needs you for it to succeed... I didn’t like the way he put it.”

“Did he act differently around you in any way?”

“No.”

“That’s good. I think. That’s good, right?”

“Should be,” he shrugged. “If he’d wrung my neck a little out of place... not so good.”

She smiled unexpectedly and he returned it, not able to restrain himself any longer as his hand moved up to her temple, using the injury she’d sustained the night before as an excuse as he touched the bruised part.

“Any pain?” he asked and he thought he heard her breath quivering as she gentle inhaled.

She shook her head a fraction, her eyes in his. They nearly flickered closed when he slid his fingers down her cheek, letting his hand fall away. She was so drawn to him she nearly followed the movement he made as he stepped back and turned around, heading for the door again.

“Good luck, Red,” he said and she gave him a crooked smile as he opened the door.

“I might come by later,” Buffy called after him.

“You do that,” he replied, stepping outside and disappearing from view.

Oh, but I shouldn’t, Buffy told herself. I really, really shouldn’t.

Her defenses were crashing and burning. However had he managed it? Or was the fault really her own? She struggled to remember what had brought them up in the first place.

Vampire. Right. Evil and undead. Right.

She glanced at the door, her fingertips carefully touching the bruise at her temple.

¤

“Calor?”

He looked up as Ath entered the living room.

“You look tired. I thought you went to sleep.”

“No, I couldn’t... I wanted to talk to you, about what you said to me; about Jonathan... and me.”

He eyed her for a few seconds, then sighed.

“I’m sorry. But it’s the truth.”

“I know. And I know I never should have gotten involved with him, but... You can’t understand what it’s like, to look at someone and feel like you would give anything to make them smile. And once you realize you can, just by being there... being yourself... then you feel like you’re flying. It sounds so... human, I guess, and sappy-human at that, but it’s true.”

He looked sad.

“But you’re wrong,” he said softly. “I do know.”

She frowned, questioningly.

“I would give anything to make her smile again,” he continued, and Ath felt a flare of compassion rise within her. “I took it away from her. I was so foolish.”

“No,” Ath disagreed, sinking down next to him on the couch. “Not foolish, Cale. You thought you knew what was best for her. What she should want. What would bring that smile out.”

“You know that’s not true,” he murmured bitterly. “I wanted to show her how wrong she was. How the happiness she was experiencing, in the midst of the hardships and trials, should be cherished. But instead I stole it, and locked it up. I only brought more misery.”

“You’re wrong. You’re wrong, because once she understands...”

“But how can she ever relent to him!” Calor exclaimed. “It is too soon! All the growth they both were prescribed before submitting to any deeper emotions toward one another... If that does not take place, how can they truly find each other?”

Ath smiled at that, taking his hands in hers and making him settle down, catching his gaze and holding it as she said:

“They have grown. Can you not see how much they’ve grown?”

“Not enough,” Calor murmured. “We only have two more days. I feel I can’t see the right path anymore. I don’t know where to go from here.”

Ath didn’t know how to respond to that.

¤

Buffy left Giles’ around eight and walked slowly, keeping an eye on the streets she passed for any sign of activity. There was none, and she hadn’t expected it. She was thinking about mundane things, trying not to let herself wonder what it was that was driving her to Spike’s crypt this evening.

I need to see Riley, she finally thought, unsure of where it had come from and why it had appeared.

Then again, she hadn’t seen him all weekend, so she supposed it was right.

Her mind drifted to her brief encounter with Angel. It had been nice to see him, though he had made her mad at him. On the other hand it had been weird. It felt like he was part of something far away... She had never believed that she could move on, that she could ever get over him, and she knew that a piece of her would always belong to him, but he was her past, and two nights ago she had understood just how much she had come to terms with that over the course of a year. So much had happened to her; she had grown in so many ways and learned so much about herself that she’d never known.

She hadn’t fully come to terms with how Angel had stepped into the Now and pointed his finger at her, as though he knew her better than she knew herself. As though he knew Spike better.

“But he doesn’t,” she said aloud, trying to punctuate her own argument against her old love.

And I’m seeing him tonight, as a friend, she then thought firmly. Ally, even... to see what he’s learned of our common emeny... enemy and to talk to him about... things that are of no real consequence to anyone but... him and me because that’s what friends... allies do. They talk. They sit on the couch and talk. And they light candles. To see. Maybe not candles. Sets a different mood in that dark crypt of his. Not really the friendly type of mood you’d need if you’re gonna sit on a couch and discuss strategies and the ugliest monster in the world and stuff of no consequence... But he doesn’t have a lamp. Because he doesn’t have any outlets. Because he lives in a crypt. Because he’s a vampire. Because he was bitten. And killed. A long, long time ago. Where was I again? Right. Lamps. Well, then we’ll just sit in the dark.

She could see the outline of his face, pale in the moonlight, opposite her on the couch and there was a suction of desire that she didn’t want to acknowledge in its fierceness.

No, no dark. Lot’s of candles, and separate seating.

She slowed down, having reached a fresh grave, the casket having been buried no later than that very afternoon.

“Hey,” she mumbled, reading off the tombstone. “Died yesterday, did you, Stephen?”

¤

There was a knock on the door and Spike turned his head from the telly.

“Yeah?” he said.

The door slid opened and Ath stepped through it.

“Hi,” she said with a smile, holding up a basket of cookies. “Brought you a snack.”

“Ya-bloody-hoo.”

She raised her eyebrows, closing the door and setting the basket down on the nearest sarcophagus before coming up to where he was seated on the loveseat. Sitting down beside him she looked him over, then said:

“Your enthusiasm is very flattering.”

“And here I meant it to be sarcasm.”

“Look, I have a feeling that despite all this hostility... you have just a slight hunch that you can actually believe what I’ve been telling you over and over again.”

He held her gaze for the longest moment, then sighed barely noticeably.

“Reckon I might’ve a slight twinge, or the sort. With the type of energy flowing through you that you seem to have... You wanted the Slayer dead, she’d be dead by now.”

Ath smiled a small smile.

“Indeed.”

“When you touched my hands the other night,” he said, eyeing her now. “I felt like you read me.”

He didn’t know how else to phrase it. Her smile broadened.

“And I let you read a few pages of me,” she smirked.

As she said it, he remembered. He hadn’t before, but now he could see stars, all around him, as though he was in the middle of a memory. And then brightness, and safety. A feeling of complete safety. As though whatever happened to him was in some way meant to happen, even if it wasn’t planned.

He shook his head, then stared at her.

“What the bloody hell are you?”

“My brother and I... We’re guardians.”

“Guardians?” he repeated, then his expression changed as he thought he understood. “Of Buffy.”

“Of her linage,” Ath nodded, observing him closely.

“Why are you here, then? Is something... going to happen to her!”

“No!” she shook her head, smiling brightly now. “No, you mustn’t think that’s why we’re here. It’s a rather... tiring story. One I believe I would rather disclose to her first. If I must.” She added the last under her breath, keeping her smile on as she finished: “But the reason I’m here is because I don’t want you to fear me, or my brother. We’re leaving soon, anyways...”

“Your brother...” Spike murmured, failing to remember what this brother was supposed to look like. “Have I met him?”

“Yes,” she replied, unsure of where this was going, “many times.” She frowned. “You can’t recall it?”

“Strange, isn’t it?” he said.

Ath looked toward the heavens, wondering if her father had a part to play in this. When she moved her eyes down again they caught on letters carved into the crypt wall.

“What’s that?” she asked.

He looked wondering, then turned his head to what she was referring. It was a small inscription, engraved into the stone of the wall next to one of the windows. He had forgotten all about it, and now a rush of memories came flooding him. Of Buffy. Of why he had carved it there. As a reminder. Not a very long time ago.

“Ad noctum,” he said.

“Mh,” she nodded. “’Into darkness’.” She watched him for a moment. “Is that where you see yourself going? Is that all that you believe is there for you?”

“Not at all...” he replied. “It’s so I never forget where I came from. So I remember that’s where I could just as easily go back to, if I ever stop moving away from it.”

“And you’re moving away from it?”

“I’m nocturnal, there’s only so much I can do,” he quipped with a slight smile, and she returned it.

She paused for a moment, considering, and then she stated gently:

“You have a heart unlike any I have ever seen.” Reaching out she placed her hand over the still muscle in his chest and closed her eyes. “It’s beating,” she said. “Can you feel it?”

He felt a shockwave go through him, pain flitting into every pore before he had the most amazing sensation fill him. Pumping blood, and fighting pulse.

“You’re as real as anything near her,” Ath’s voice came from far away. “I was wrong. Remember that.”

Then he snapped back into the moment, her hand having been removed and her sitting coquettishly next to him, looking quizzical.

“You okay?” she asked.

He stared at her, wondering what sort of being she actually was. To have such tranquility and yet inhabit such awesome force was unlike much he had encountered.

“Yeah,” he then mumbled as an answer to her question.

“Good. Now, before I go, I need a favor from you.”

“And what’s that?”

“It’s about those,” she said, nodding to the cookies. “I tried a new recipe and I feel they’re missing something.”

“You want me to eat a cookie?”

She smiled and nodded.

“It’s not paranormal in any way. No hidden sunshine or drops of holy water, if that was what you were thinking,” she assured.

“It wasn’t,” he replied, rising and walking over to the plate.

She rose as well, following in his footsteps. He grabbed one and held it up, eyeing it before turning his gaze in the goddess’. Then he took a bite, and she looked pleased, as well as expectant.

“Well?” she asked.

“It’s good,” he said, chewing. “It’s chocolate-y. Sort of spicy too... What’s in ‘ere?”

“A true chef never reveals her secrets, especially when it comes to the sweets.”

He smirked, swallowing. She placed a hand on his arm and stepped a little closer as she said:

“I am sorry if I alarmed you with my presence. I never meant to.”

“’S alright. Would like to hear the story of your reason for being here, though.”

She smiled at that, just as the door opened and Buffy stepped through it. She stopped short, staring at them and blinking in surprise.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Didn’t mean to interrupt...”

“Gosh, no,” Ath laughed, stepping away from Spike and coming up to the Slayer. “I was just dropping off some samples, wanted to see if there might be business to be made with the undead. You know, since their taste buds are different.”

“Right,” Buffy said, trying to make her smile not as strained as it felt. “Sugars turning into salt... Don’t want that.”

Ath smiled.

“I’ll see you at the house?” she said, stepping passed Buffy and pausing in the doorway, looking back at Spike. “Bring the plate back, will you?” she asked, not waiting for a reply before proceeding outside, closing the door behind her.

Buffy locked her gaze with Spike’s, who was brushing crumbs from his hands. He smiled a little.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she muttered, walking up to the plate and grabbing a cookie before heading up to the loveseat to sit down; a small puff of dust rising from her clothes as she did so.

“See you got lucky.”

She stiffened, turning her head to him with an irate frown on her brow. He tilted his head a little to one side and she looked away from him again. He brought the plate with him as he came up to her.

“His name was Stephen,” she grumbled. “I can assure you it didn’t take long.”

“Fledglings,” he huffed with a small smile, putting the plate down and having a seat in the armchair. “Lack the stamina.”

“More the technique,” she said, making him cock an eyebrow.

She drew herself up into a more seated position and held his gaze without flinching. Then she turned her attention on the cookie in her hand.

“He showed potential, though,” she added, almost defiantly.

“But when you’ve had the best, it’s hard to go back,” he retorted, and she could feel his eyes on her. She nearly glared at him before taking a bite of the cookie. “Well, isn’t it?” he asked.

“What do you want, a five page confession?” she snapped and he blinked, expression growing wondering.

“Was it something I said?”

“Forget it,” she grumbled, swallowing the rest of the cookie.

“Alright,” he agreed, simply. “So, I was thinking...”

“Just because he was a fledgling doesn’t mean he didn’t have skill, you know,” she interrupted, his mouth slowly closing as it had been cut off mid-sentence. “I mean, yeah, he was a bit green, but if I’d nurtured him instead of killing him, I’m pretty sure he’d have grown into a garden. A big, beautiful, lush garden that you could stroll through.”

“When would that be – underneath the branches skillfully trying to drown me in sunlight?”

“That’s not... I didn’t... Don’t mess up my metaphor! All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be so full of yourself, thinking you’re the best; being all... once you’ve been with me you won’t wanna go back.”

“That wasn’t really what I was saying.”

“Oh, right, of course, you were referring to all the other Big Bad’s I’ve...” she stopped herself from finishing that sentence in the wrong way and quickly added: “fought.”

He was beginning to look amused, and God, how she hated the expression on him.

“Well, then, if you were then, fine,” she huffed.

She wanted to keep ranting for some reason, but seemed to have exhausted her material and so she simply sat quiet, wondering why the stillness was bothering her so much. It was like itchy, sticky glue to her eardrums. She wanted him to break it. Needed him to say something.

Reaching over he took a cookie, then sat back and asked casually:

“Who should I have used as an example, then? Not a fledgling... Angel, perhaps? That’d suited you better?”

“Was that why she was here?” she asked, before she could even react to the words bubbling into her mouth. And easily the rest came pouring out as well, with: “Just because I spent an hour with Angel, you had to...?”

She trailed off, beginning to grow terribly annoyed with herself.

“Had to, what?” he inquired. “Eat a cookie?”

“Was that what you were doing?” she asked, the annoyance being directed at him and once unleashed, it was irreversible.

“Yes,” he answered slowly, frowning now.

She could have hit him.

“Really? Oh, guess it was me imagining things. Like what you were doing at Giles’ the other night, was that nothing but cookie-eating, too?”

He sat back at that, amazement on his face; his eyes glittering with humored curiosity.

“Are you jealous?” he asked.

“I am not.”

“No?... Then why the hell would you even think it’s any of your business who I choose to spend my time with? Now, I didn’t like her at first, but Ath is a pretty remarkable...”

“Remarkable?” Buffy repeated.

“I think you already know that,” he pointed out. “And it took a while, but now I’m starting to warm up to the bird.”

“Warm up?” Buffy muttered and he narrowed his eyes.

“I can’t see why this is such a big deal, can you? Honestly? Bloody hell, Slayer, all you do is ditch me for other men. Or worse, other vampires.”

“There was only the one vampire. And as far as I know, there’s only been the one other man.”

He gave her a look at that.

Alright, not the best defense. But... she was so exasperated with his stuck-up, sallow, all-knowing expression. Like he knew something she didn’t. Like she was so far behind. Like she was five.

“Honestly,” she mimicked him, “is it so crazy, for me to go oh, here’s someone who on the one hand’s confessing his inexplicable devotion to me, and on the other is wanting to boink one of my friends?”

The bite of cookie in his mouth went down the wrong pipe with that, and he started coughing. But she could tell he was smiling and she got to her feet.

“Oh, I can’t talk to you,” she said, throwing the rest of her cookie back onto the plate and standing.

“Buffy,” Spike got out, but she turned from him and headed for the door.

He caught up with her, not touching her, but not having to as his next words stopped her in her tracks.

“If you just admit why you’re here... it would make everything that much bloody easier, wouldn’t it?” She turned slowly to face him. “You’re crazy if you think any other woman will ever mean anything to me,” he added with a faint smile. Taking a step closer he made her take one back, looking almost frightened. “Tell me it’s not all in my head. That the tremble when I touch you... that it isn’t there because you fear me... or even ‘cause you want me. Tell me it’s there because the feeling is there, and you can’t get rid of it.”

He took another step closer and this time she didn’t move. She couldn’t.

“What feeling?” she asked hoarsely.

He leaned into her.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore,” he murmured, his nose nearly brushing hers. She felt her legs quiver with growing weakness. “Tell me what I wanna hear. And if you can’t, then tell me why. Tell me why.”

She couldn’t breathe. She wanted him closer than he was. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. The desire was raging fierce battles with her ever-trying-to-stay-clear mind. But his mouth was so close and his scent was swirling its intoxication through her head. What she said, she said without really thinking.

“Angel.”

His gaze hardened and then he slammed her back against the door. She let out a slight gasp, her hands going to his shoulders.

“What about Angel?”

Buffy felt something harden inside her as well.

“He taught me some lessons,” she replied, her hands holding Spike back.

He gritted his teeth.

“Is that still what this is all about? Me lacking the spirit part?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Would that make it easier to love me? Justifying it with a soul? I wouldn’t change,” he stated, his expression intensifying and she wasn’t sure she could take much more of it. Her arms seemed to be losing their strength. “This feeling is what’s changed me. You’re what changed me, can’t you bloody see that?” he mumbled. “Everything I am right now, I am because of you. And I’d erase my past in a second if I thought that’d make you love me more, but it wouldn’t. The difference between now and then is what makes you love me now.”

She looked at him, feeling his hands slide through her hair.

“No,” she then said quietly, but forcefully. “It isn’t the spirit part... Angel didn’t leave because of that part, he left because of all the other ones. And he was right. How could we ever work?”

Spike’s hands made her meet his gaze, her own losing the struggle and letting him step into her.

“If you love me,” he said. “Buffy, we’ll find a way.”

She hadn’t realized how starved she had been for his touch. Her body felt as though electricity was running through it, her nerve-ends tingling, goose bumps spreading rapidly, butterflies fluttering excitedly in her stomach. And the longing. Dear God, the longing for him was like ice mixing with fire, coating her in its volatile substance, from her heart to her lips to her hands.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore,” he repeated, mouth at her temple.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she cursed them, but couldn’t hold them back.

She wasn’t wavering anymore, but she didn’t want this. She truly didn’t. It was why she had stayed away, why she had held back, why she had been so deep in denial. Her heart would be broken, she knew it. He wasn’t safe. In the end it would prove impossible and it would go badly, for them both.

The dream came back to her for a third time, and so suddenly it made her open her closed eyes. His cheek beneath her palm and how it started to burn.

‘You know I’m already gone.’

Her hold on him grew tighter and she buried her face against his shoulder.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

He brought her head back softly, looking at her with such warmth that she felt herself return it easily. And then she moved her head forward, parting her lips as they touched his. The kiss softly deepened, her hands sliding into his hair, his hands on the door as he leaned her against it. She kissed him slowly, savoring every last sensation, every single movement.

She carefully made him turn around, placing him with his back to the door instead and she could feel how he smiled a little. Her heart leapt and she smiled as well, his arms going around her, pulling her closer.

All that mattered was the feel of his body, the race of her pulse, the taste of his mouth. And she had convinced herself she didn’t need it, didn’t need him. That what she needed was stability, when nothing steadied her as the look in his eyes or the promise in his kiss. Giving him up would have been condemning herself to an everlasting state of chipping her heart into bits, because it never beat as strongly as when she was in his arms.

Spike sank into her, ravished by this hunger for her, for more of her, all of her. He wouldn’t let her go again. Not ever again. Nothing on this Earth felt as good as she did, nothing made him feel this rush, and he heard in her heart beat that she felt it too. So he wouldn’t let go.

They were making out unabashedly, and time didn’t matter anymore. Forever seemed close at hand, but the eternity they were swirling through proved to not last more than ten minutes before a harsh knock on the door interrupted it. They looked at each other, both trying to discern exactly where they were and what was happening, the outside world so rudely making itself known. There was a second knock, this one even more brutal, the wood of the door creaking in pain as it settled back in place.

Buffy took a step back and Spike took one forward with her, his arms still around her. She was as reluctant to let go as he was.

“Spike,” a voice called.

He furrowed his brow, his hold slowly loosening before he signed for Buffy to be quiet and step to the side. She did as he asked and he held her gaze for a few more seconds, a small smile playing on his mouth before he stripped it and opened the door, stepping through it and closing it behind him.

She heard him address the knocker as Stokes and then they began to walk away. She also snapped up the name Adam, and felt her heart begin to pound again, but for more serious reasons. What did he want now?

She waited only a few minutes before she cautiously opened the door and slipped outside, beginning to trail them.

She thought of Spike and felt her feet pick up their pace. She had a shiver down her spine that made her start to run. Something was wrong. She trusted her instincts and they were signaling danger.

Dread filled her. It hit her right where it hurt: she couldn’t lose him. Not now. She didn’t know what she would do if she lost him.

¤

Spike could still scent Buffy on his skin. He was dizzy with wondering what she meant. Had she, for once, taken him seriously and gotten that he meant what he had said. Or had she read how weak he was when she was that close to him and hadn’t been able to resist it herself... Were they stuck in a never ending loop of this indecision? Her indecision. Or had she just made up her mind? Had the kiss been a consent to his statement, that she did love him? She did. He was convinced of it. But she had said that she was scared. And he had known that she was. She trusted him, though. She trusted him, and she would have to see that she could trust him everywhere.

Stokes, one of Adam’s henchmen, showed the way through the forest they had entered. They walked across a wide clearing, a large cliff wall rising before them. Stokes brought a few branches of a tall bush aside and revealed the opening of a cave. Spike kept from rolling his eyes, the originality was astounding, and then walked ahead of Stokes inside.

“Spike,” Adam greeted.

“Addie,” Spike muttered, looking around. “Hard for a fellow to keep track on you.”

“I wasn’t under the impression you were supposed to.”

Spike smiled a small smile at that.

“’S not what I meant.” Adam gestured to a sofa, but Spike shook his head. “I was in the middle of something. What do you want?”

“Did you deliver the disk?”

Spike cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes, matter of fact,” he replied.

“Good,” Adam said. “Good.”

He watched the vampire in silence for a few moments, then asked:

“Do you think yourself useful?”

“Useful?”

“On this earth. In society. Do you feel you fill your space?”

Spike furrowed his brow. Adam gazed upon him calmly, then smiled and said:

“I know how you can fill it. I can help you.”

¤

Buffy slipped up behind the stem of a tree and peeked around it, watching three unknown vampires push the branches of a high bush aside and disappear in through what looked like the mouth of a cave. Suddenly a twig broke in two behind her and she spun around, her hand grabbing the stake she was holding and raising it, only to stop as her gaze landed in Riley’s.

Her eyes grew as she brought the weapon down.

Guilt poured through her. But she didn’t have time to deal with it now. The situation could turn ugly real quick and the last thing she needed was someone to feel responsible for. She was going into that cave, it was just a matter of when. And how. Stealth was key. And timing. And she knew she needed to do it alone.

“What are you doing here?” she therefore hissed.

“I was about to ask you the same,” he hissed back, clicking in a message on the radio he held in his hand.

A few clicks were heard as response and then he pocketed it, looking back at her.

“Adam’s in that cave,” she whispered.

“I guessed as much,” he nodded. “We’ve been tracking demons all day, finally got a lead that brought us to this position... How did you know where to go?”

“By tracking a demon,” she answered, turning to have the view of the cave back in front of her.

“Spike. He’s in there?” Riley asked.

She glanced at him, then murmured:

“Yeah.”

“We’re preparing to move in.”

“And do what?” she asked, looking back at him.

“Take the subject down.”

“It doesn’t work like that. Look, Adam’s stronger than all of your guns put together.”

“I’ve yet to encounter a demon that’s bullet proof.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you need a reality check, because I’m telling you, that thing in there won’t go down that easily. I swear to you, if you storm that cave, you’ll be making a big mistake.”

¤

Ath dreamed of blood and ashes. She saw the face of the vampire, and then the face of the enemy.

Adam.

She opened her eyes and they widened quickly with terror as the dream wouldn’t leave her, staying like a veil before her eyes. A cave. Two forms. And a destiny that may be about to change in the most vicious of ways.

“Oh, God,” she breathed. “He’s gonna kill him.”