Title: Tag Line (Chapter Eleven of The One)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG -13

Pairing: Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.

Feedback: Yes, please

For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)

Summary: There's a Scooby Meeting at Buffy and Spike's. A plan is formed on where to begin. Xander, Dawn and Willow go on patrol and encounter a little trouble. Spike and Buffy find a little trouble of their own at home.

Tag Line



It had become quite a familiar scene over the years. Scooby meetings at Casa de Summers. Or rather Casa de Windsor now. Sandwiches spread out over the coffee table, with bags of chips and cans of soda and mugs filled with tea and blood. It had become normal. Not even Xander bothered commenting as Spike sat on the floor; Emma parked on his lap, drinking blood through a straw from a novelty mug. Only now it was his novelty mug. One of those mall numbers, black to conceal the contents, with "I love my Daddy," written on the side in colourful crayon letters.

Emma had given it to him for his birthday.

Yes, he'd been forced to admit the day that his mum had brought him into this world. But that day didn't seem right to him anymore. He simply wasn't that man.

There was also the day that Drusilla had turned him. When he was born into this World as a Vampire. That one was not big on Buffy's top ten list of options.

So, they compromised. They picked the date that he had become what he was now. When his heart had beat again and he watched his first sunset of the century from Buffy's back porch. The day he'd chosen to allow the man to win over the monster. The day before Emma was born.

They'd picked a year almost at random. 1865 wasn't going to wash when written on legal documents. Like the paper he had signed that made it official that Buffy was his wife. And the financial forms he had co-signed for Dawn. And the birth certificates. And the bank statements. 28 October, 1971.

He looked a few years older than Buffy now. So, by the state of California, William Windsor was thirty-seven years old and damned lucky that Rupert Giles had known a brilliant forger.

"So, double whammy of the One-ness and Dracony-ass?" Dawn snarked, grabbing a diet coke and stretching out on the floor, her head on Spike's legs.

"Language, Nibs," Spike corrected. Buffy smirked. Spike could dole out some pretty good potty mouth, but let anyone under the age of twenty-one even utter 'arse' and he was on the proper language warpath.

Dawn blushed. "Sorry."

"But, alas, accurate," Xander agreed, trying to bail the girl out. He leaned back against the sofa, third sandwich in his hand.

Tara was snuggled against Willow on the couch. "So, what do you want us to help with?"

"Tara, if you could help Giles and Cyrus tonight researching the One, then maybe Willow, Xander and Dawn can patrol," Buffy asserted. Spike smiled. Bossy chit.

"Sure," Willow agreed, smoothing Tara's hair with soft fingers.

"See anything scarier than a two fledgling night, exit stage left and get back here," Buffy continued from her perch on the floor, leaned against Spike's side. "Tara, maybe you could work out that barrier spell again?"

Tara nodded. "Easy enough," she agreed cheerfully.

"Xander, before you do anything, I'd call Takina and have her meet you here. You can stay in the guest room downstairs. If not, then you should take River home and stay with her. Cyrus or Giles can patrol," Buffy went on, concern for the more helpless members of the tribe coming to mind after her conversation with Spike.

"Takina was coming here anyway to check on Will. I'll just have her grab stuff on the way over," Xander answered, standing to go to the kitchen and use the phone.

"Randy Okay?" Buffy asked, turning her attention to her Watcher.

Giles chuckled. "His nanny is a Jyrax demon and his mother would eviscerate anyone within two hundred yards. I believe he'll be fine."

Spike had to smile, shaking his head. And they thought their brood was the best protected in Sunnydale. The One had nothing on Anya.

"Good," Buffy commented, still all business. "So, then Spike and I are officially taking the night off."

"No research?" Giles asked, only half serious.

"Only research that I'm doing is in my bed," Buffy blurted, rubbing her eyes. Spike raised an eyebrow at her. The tantalizing thought come codeword of yummy research, echoed through his mind.

Buffy smiled, blushing slightly. "I meant of the inside of my eyelids. Research of the backs of my eyeballs," she corrected.

"Yeah, because you're all about going to sleep at nine," Dawn snarked. "With Spike," she added with a sly grin.

''Nibs," Spike growled under his breath.

"Shall we work in the basement, then?" Cyrus asked, barely concealing a devious smile.

"No," Buffy whined frustrated. Did they really all think that she could not spend an evening in her bed with Spike without taking advantage of the situation? The thought hung there for a second before she let out a resigned sigh. "Can't I just be going to sleep?"

"You could," Tara agreed, grinning and trying to help her out.

"I'll make sure she's off to dreamland in mere moments," Spike added, honestly just suggesting he'd settle her in before going to sleep himself or giving up to help research.

"I'm sure you will," Xander mumbled, returning to the room with a soda in his hand. God, he hated the fact that they were so happy. Not because he wasn't. Not for any reason, really. Just .old habit.

Spike smirked, shooting him a glare. "Takes a bloody lot longer to do what you're suggesting," he commented at Xander, his manliness slightly offended. There was the reason, Xander thought.

"As much as I'm ...enlightened.by this demonstration of testosterone, suffice it to say that it's time that the patrol went...patrolling, and the research party moved to.wherever we shall research and we let Buffy and Spike go off to bed," Giles gushed, removing his glasses and swiping them on the tail of his oxford.

Buffy looked at Spike. Spike was staring at Giles, a contented look on his face. He bit his lip. Don't do it, Buffy thought. Too late.

"Why I never knew you cared," Spike snarked. "Did you hear that, Pet.? We've daddy's approval."

"I." Giles stuttered, replacing his glasses and pushing them up his nose.

Spike wasn't about to let him off that easy. "Off with us, then," Spike continued, standing and pulling Buffy up from the floor. He scooped her up in his arms. "Let me ravage you despite the house full of.Scoobies and tiny tots."

The sarcasm dripped from his lips as he let Emma climb onto his back from the side of the chair. But no, he wasn't done yet. "As soon as we put the winsome babe to bed, we will be sure to make daddy proud."

Buffy broke down into a fit of giggles, shaking her head. "Really, just going to bed.. To sleep."

Spike winked as he carried his girls up the stairs.

"So, why do you think that they didn't want to patrol?" Xander asked, flexing his hand around the stake as the three of them walked down the relatively quiet path.

"Probably, Will," Dawn sighed, her eyes darting back and forth. What she didn't have in strength, Spike and Buffy had taught her to make up for in alertness.

Willow wrapped an arm around her. "It's not your fault, Dawnie."

She sighed again, this one full of resignation. "That's what they said. But he's still all. yellowed up.because I didn't watch him well enough." She paused a moment, scanning her surroundings. "I mean, what if there had been a demon or something there. It could have taken Will right off the swing and I would have missed it. You know how fast."

"Most of them stick with the dark," Xander commented. "I know our lives are full of exceptions, but as a rule, the whole 'creatures of the night' thing is pretty accurate."

"I think," Willow began, "That they may have just been tired. Or.or bored. This whole patrol every night, save the World gig has to get a little old."

Dawn chuckled. "Have you met my sister? All about the demon slaughter."

"I can think of one demon she never slaughtered," Willow retorted, smiling.

"He doesn't count," Dawn answered. "Besides, he's not *really* a demon."

Xander shook his head. "He's still a Vampire, Dawnie. He just. God, help me. Did an amazing thing. Got all miraculous and Chosen One on us." He stopped, taking in the two girls' smirking faces. "It was so much easier with the abject, senseless hate," Xander sighed.

"And she never slaughtered the other ones either. Like.like Takina. Or.or Anya. And all of the little kiddies are half demon. She's only part about the demon slaughter."

"She *knows* all of them. Or is related to them," Dawn reasoned. "Other than that..."

"How about Clem?" Xander answered, still amazed, amused, and somewhat disgusted that he was defending the demon population. "I mean, she never tried to kill him."

"Clem's a big pussycat," Dawn answered.

"And Spike is not?" Willow answered, knowing they had won. "All I am saying, Dawnie, is that Buffy isn't about just her job anymore. She kills the bad guys at night and plays mom during the day and if she had to choose, I think I could guess which one she'd pick."

Dawn raised an eyebrow. "You think?"

"Have you met Spike?" Xander shot back. "All compact and muscular and doting and give her everything she wants." The girls looked at him again, amused grins on their faces. "Oh, I *so* miss abject hate."

"Seriously, Dawn," Willow began again. "I mean, you lived with them. You know it better than we do. She'd give up her powers if she had to make a choice. No doubt. Not just Spike, but Emma and Will. She's not all about the job anymore. Hence, it could become boring on occasion. Not to mention, she probably wants to stay near Will and get some sleep."

"With Spike," Dawn contributed her voice devious. "You said it. I lived with them."

Willow shook her head again. "So, no big. We patrol. We should offer to do it more often. Maybe like once a week or something."

"And leave Spike and Buffy violence free that often? Then they'd start killing each other. Or. or . Oh God, I don't want to think about that. No more little blonde babies," Xander sighed, really wishing things were different. Well, not really.

"Well, once in a while," Willow chirped, agreeing.

"Speaking of," Dawn said, now smiling and chipper once again. Mood swings were something of which she had become the master. "I overheard part of that little conversation after Christmas dinner."

Xander looked at Willow, then back at Dawn. "You...you talked after I left."

"Sometimes, Xander, we do that," Dawn snarked, giving him her best Spike smirk. "I mean, what with the mouths and the other people."

"I mean, about important stuff," Xander continued, now genuinely curious. Willow walked wordlessly ahead. This was *not* a conversation she wanted to have until she'd figured it all out and at least talked to Oz.

"It wasn't that important," Willow lied, still looking straight ahead.

"Not important!" Dawn answered, her whole body tensing up. "What are you talking about? I mean, that is like life changing important."

"How much did you hear, Dawnie?" Willow asked, turning her head.

"And I ask, what is all life changing that best friend knows nothing?" Xander blurted, stopping in his tracks. The girls stopped with him.

Willow sighed. "It's important, but I'm not. How much did you hear, Dawn?" She repeated.

Dawn sighed. "Spike saw me and gave me the evil eye after the first few minutes. I didn't hear much. Just the all important life changey tension."

"Oh," Willow sighed, beginning to walk again. "Oh."

"Oh, what?" Xander said. "Spill."

"I. well, Tara and I.well."

Out of nowhere, a Vampire appeared about ten feet in front of them, growling like a wild dog. Dawn looked around quickly. No others. Just a frisky little loner. This was nothing.

"Hold that thought," Dawn began, rushing at the Vampire. Xander tore after her, the thought of what Spike might do to them coming in second only to the thought of what Buffy might do if they let her get hurt.

"Dawn!" Xander called as she jumped, pushing both legs up and landing a heck of a double footed kick to the Vampire's chest. I didn't knock him half way across the graveyard, like it might of with Buffy or Spike, but it did send the thing to the ground in a heap. Xander stopped, eyes wide open. "Good shot, Dawnie."

"Stake!" Dawn called, realizing she had dropped hers. Xander tossed his through the air and she caught it without looking. Okay, so there was a little bobble. "Hasta la vista, baby," she called into the night like the fierce warrior that she was and plunged the stake into the stunned Vampire's heart. Willow wasn't sure if the creature was stunned that he had been kicked in the chest by a human and knocked down, or at the amazing cheesiness of the last words he had heard in this dimension.

Dawn slapped her hands together, watching dust fly off into the moonlit air. "Another one bites the dust," she commented smiling.

Xander shook his head. "That was. really well done," he began. "Looks like you paid attention in your lessons," he continued jokingly. "But I think."

"We need to work on your witty repartee," Willow finished. "And we've gotten really good. Years as Scoobies so we've learned some good ones."

Dawn frowned, walking back towards them. "You didn't like The Terminator one?"

Xander wrapped an arm around her. "Great movie. Old movie. Need to update. That's the problem slaying with Spike. All stuck in the eighties." There, he thought. That felt better. Make fun of Spike for his ancientness.

"Don't worry," Willow comforted. "You keep training and we'll work on your tag lines."



"Since when is she little miss independence, I can get ready for bed on my own," Buffy huffed, closing the door on Emma's room. She had insisted that she could tuck herself in and that they should worry more about Will. Very maturely, Buffy thought. A mature five year old. The thought scared her. Emma had pouted endlessly until she had gotten her goodnight kiss from her father, then took her bunny and strode to her dresser to find pajamas, leaving her parents to stand and stare and then have no choice but to leave her to her little girl nightly rituals.

"Since her mum's the Slayer," Spike snarked. "Didn't think she'd turn up a wilting violet."

"But she's five," Buffy sighed, walking down the hall to check on Will. Spike chuckled.

"Bet you told Joyce a thing or two when you were that age," he commented, remembering the woman fondly. For someone he hadn't known all that well for all that long, she had certainly made an impact on his memory and her death had left a hole in his heart.

Buffy smiled. "Yeah, I guess I did." She was silent a moment, thinking. The door to Will's room was open and the faint glow of his Eeyore nightlight spilled in a purple splash onto the carpet. "It's weird being on this end of things."

"The parental bit?" Spike asked, coming up behind her. She stared at the purple glow, lost in thought.

"Yeah," Buffy answered. "I mean, good weird. But now I get why my mom was always worried. You know?"

"I know," Spike answered softly, burying his face in her hair and drinking in her scent. "In point of fact, I still worry about you for her."

"That's different," Buffy answered, grinning, her hand reaching behind and resting on the back of his neck. His chest was pressed tight to her back and she could feel his warmth.

"It's not," he said softly, nuzzling her ear. "We both love you."

Buffy sighed, knowing it was true. Glad every day that it was real. She took a step, letting her hand drop and giving Spike room to follow. Slowly, she turned the corner, peeking into her son's bedroom. She stopped, her whole body vibrating.

It took Spike a moment to realize she wasn't shaking in fear, rather she was chuckling. His eyes darted around her shoulder, trying to see what she was seeing.

William was curled on his side, sound asleep. What made Buffy chuckle was the cast. The huge yellow monster that took up the little boys' arm was draped over River, who was curled in front of him like a kitten. Xander had wanted to put her to sleep, but didn't want her alone in the basement. Spike had suggested sticking her in with Will. They were toddlers. What kind of mischief could they cause together?

Well, Buffy thought. None, really. But Xander would have a fit if he could see this. Spike's son was curled in a ball around Xander's daughter, and even injured, he was holding her protectively. Buffy had to laugh. Where was the camera when you wanted it?

"This will not make Harris warm and fuzzy," Spike commented, insanely amused at the thought. "Although that, in and of itself, will fill my chuckle quotient for years to come."

Buffy leaned her back against his chest. "God, bump this forward sixteen years or so. He'd have a cow.'

"I'd have a *herd*, were it Emma," Spike defended, but still amused by the thought.

Buffy shook her head. "Not just that. I mean, they could be all married off and sleeping in the same bed but Xander would freak just because."

"My son and his daughter. The thought has sinister appeal," Spike snarked, nipping at Buffy's ear.

"The horrors of that wedding," Buffy agreed.

"That *he'd* have to pay for," Spike contributed.

"The Apocalypse will come," she joked, again wrapping her arm behind her and touching his warm neck. "But, in the old here and now, they look awfully comfy. Maybe we should just leave them."

"Give us a bed to ourselves," Spike encouraged. "Not to mention, the pleasure of hearing Xander's reaction later."

Buffy had to giggle. "We leave them, then. And do some cuddling of our own."

Spike backed out of the room, pulling her with him. He could feel her exhaustion and something else. Worry? "You all right, Pet?"

She walked towards the door; her body still conformed to his. "Yeah, just thinking."

"Bout what?" He asked, following her into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

She was quiet a moment, standing in their darkened room. "Mom," Buffy finally said, her voice so quiet it was barely audible. "I wish she could have seen them. Seen this."

"I know, Love," Spike whispered, turning her towards him and brushing her hair from her cheeks. "Like to think she does. Just, somewhere a little kinder."

Buffy smiled. "I feel her a lot. I.I've been thinking about her a lot lately. I mean."

The thought struck him. She had been in his thoughts of late as well. Maybe it was Christmas. Seeing the kids and the tree and Buffy only having her Watcher/surrogate parent. Maybe it was more. "Dunno, Pet. Sometimes it's like that with people we've lost."

"Yeah," she agreed, resting her head on his chest. She stopped, just listening to him breathe. "Spike?"

"What, Love?"

"Do you think we'll ever see her again? I mean, when we die?"

Spike was thoughtful for a moment, not sure how to answer. But it felt right. "One day, Pet. One day we'll see her again. Let her know bout our life. But I imagine she already does."

"Good," Buffy whispered, placing a gentle kiss just above the collar of his shirt. "Now take me to bed, you fierce warrior."

To be contd.

Title: California Dreaming (Chapter Twelve of The One)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG -13

Pairing: Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.

Feedback: Yes, please

For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)

Summary: Buffy and Spike share a dream that terrifies them both. But why? And what brings it on? Spike recounts the prophetic vision to Giles in order to sort it out. before it's too late.



California Dreaming

She stood, her white cloak now soiled and dusty from lying in the shed. Oil and grease from the lawnmower had seeped into the fabric and her skin. But it didn't seem to faze her. In life, she would have never been out in public in such condition. Now, it didn't matter.

The part of her that cared was just.gone.

The window was above her. There was a worn spot on the ground, under the tree, where someone had stood before her. Waiting. Watching. Staring up at the same, empty, dark, glass and hoping for a miracle. She was not the bringer of such things. No miracles here.

Just confusion and pain.

Her arm rose as if of its own volition, pointing like some ancient prophet of the window of the One. Only, the One was meaningless to her. All of it was. Some niggling doubt in the back of her mind said that what was behind the window might be. But the One, that thing that she'd been sent to scatter, was just a thing. A thing that needed to be dealt with. Not that she knew why.

Not that she cared.

The dragon coiled on her bracelet glowed once again. A deep, fiery, red. The colour of blood and death. It shone and danced, blinding her. Still, her arm pointed at the window as if aiming a gun. She might as well have been. This would do much worse.

The glow grew and turned into a serpent. A glowing, red serpent, to be exact. One full of fire and fury, silent in its slithering approach to the darkened glass. Her hand passed through its tail as the creature coiled around her wrist, tethering itself to her. It wasn't real. Then again, what was? What was real anyway?

The serpent passed through the glass as she watched, sliding its empty, glowing form into the house. She watched it, head tilted, waiting. For what, she didn't know. But the answer came when the entire room became bathed in that same red glow, and she could hear a little gasp from inside.

The serpent snapped back, recoiling into her wrist. She stood, watching as the flow faded like a cigarette put out by a giant. And then she moved. Slowly walking back towards the shed, silent on surreal feet. It was done. Or at least this part.

The oil and grease were calling her home.



Spike could feel her there. In the dream. It wasn't as if he could touch her or actually see her beautiful eyes staring back at him. But he could sense that Buffy was there. Sense her all around him, just as he did every moment of his existence as it had become. Always next to him. Every day.

It was like falling through time. It started by waking up. Only he didn't. And he fell through all the yesterdays of this existence and every other until he reached the First. That one moment where it all began.

Huddled next to the fire, he couldn't have been that much older than William or Emma. Maybe five. Six at best. Clinging to her hand. They were One. Always One. Since they came to the Earth. And until they would leave it.

He could feel his childish palms sweating, his grubby fingers wrapped through hers. They had taken daddy away. Mummy too. It was just them. That was all that was left. But they were One and they could beat anything. That's what the man said. That is what the lights told them when they came.

But the darkness came that night. By the fire. They held hands until the darkness took him away. He screamed. God, he screamed, watching her fade into the distance becoming smaller and more alone with every step the darkness took. Smaller. More frail. More alone. And he cried. Cried his soul into the night. Until it was gone.

And then the death began anew.

Like a clock righted, time began to spin forward again until he was waking up. Only he still wasn't. And now the paths had joined. But they were also crossing. He had taken part of her. She had taken part of him. But did it go too far? Did it know how to stop?

She stood before him as she looked now, dressed in white. So beautiful and perfect, like that night on the beach. His hand caressed her face and her eyes slid closed. When they opened again, they glittered yellow.

~~~~~~~~

She could see every night of her life. And every night of every other. Although seeing wasn't the word. Feeling. She could feel them pass with their anger and bliss, their joy and sorrow. Things she had never seen before but felt so familiar. Places she had never been, but were home.

Maybe because she could feel he was with her.

Home was not a place. It was a feeling. A need. A heart's desire. She could feel him there and the need fulfilled. So, she was home.

Time stopped, and she opened her eyes. A fire. She could feel a small hand in hers. A child's hand. She was a child. She looked a lot like Emma. Buffy was afraid to turn her head because *they* were coming. If she moved, they might see them. But she knew he was standing next to her, holding her hand. They were all that was left.

She clutched his hand, holding on for dear life. Knowing. Waiting. But the darkness came and they weren't big. They weren't strong and Mommy and Daddy were gone. They took him. She wailed as she watched them carrying him off, slung over a shoulder. Watched him screaming and crying and reaching towards her. Others held her back. She couldn't follow. Her heart was torn from her chest. And he was gone into the shadows.

Time spun forward again. The feelings of her lives were back, only home was gone. He was gone. Her hands felt tight and empty. The clock slowed again until the scenery became familiar. Her life, or something like it.

She stood in white before him. Her hair bundled atop her head. He was so handsome in that shirt. And his eyes were pools waiting for her to dive in. Welcoming her. Making her safe. The look on his face was perfect, unbridled love. Happiness. She looked at him for a second, her head tilting. Feeling the flames lapping at her dress.

Her eyes slid closed and it took her like a shot of adrenaline. Blood. Lust. Anger. Violence. All of those parts she had hidden away and that he had fought to make things right. She wanted to kill, to eat. She needed to eat. Her features tightened and her head throbbed, her blood thrumming with power.

When she opened her eyes, he gasped.

She screamed.



"Spike!" Buffy screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed. She was sweating, her heart pounding in her chest. "Oh God."

His eyes shot open at the sound of her voice. The nightmare. He knew. He had been there. But she didn't know he saw. "Buffy?" He asked, sitting up next to her.

Buffy turned to look at him, her eyes large and afraid. She was so beautiful. She stared at his face for a moment like a child. Waiting to see if it was safe to cry. His heart broke as her eyes welled up, spilling big, salty drops down her cheeks. She looked like Emma when she cried. Vulnerable and small and helpless.

The Slayer. Helpless.

"S'alright, Pet," Spike whispered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She turned, dazed, and buried her head against his chest. Buffy sobbed, her body trembling in his arms, shaking like a frightened animal. "S'just a dream, Love."

But it wasn't. Somewhere he knew it wasn't.

Her eyes focused up at him, slowly, as if it were the most painful thing in the universe to look at him. Or maybe to let him look at her. "You were there, weren't you?"

Spike wasn't sure how to answer. He wasn't sure where the dream ended and the memories began. He nodded. "I was, Love." His fingers stroked her hair, trying to calm her hitching breaths.

"That was us, wasn't it?" She asked. Spike thought a moment. He wasn't Giles. Didn't pretend to have all the answers rolled into one neat package.

"Dunno, Love. But it could be," he answered quietly, still cradling her to his chest.

Buffy clung to him a moment, feeling his heart beat under her ear. "At the end. I... I was..."

Spike squeezed her, burying his face in her hair. "S'not real. Never going to happen. Won't let it, Love."

"A Vampire?" She asked. She didn't want to say it. He didn't want her to say it.

"No, Pet. Something else," Spike whispered. But it wasn't.

"I felt it," she whispered, her voice as soft as a child. "I wanted blood. I wanted." It was too much to say. To horrible to even let escape from her mind.

Buffy stared at him with enormous, frightened eyes. Never. Never would he let her live with what he lived with. His hand caressed her face again, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "We'll suss it out, Pet. Trying to tell us something, that's all. It's not real. All right?"

"How... how can you know?" Buffy whispered, desperately wanting to believe him, but afraid to ignore what the dream had told her. Had told them.

Spike smiled, his blue eyes dancing. "Because you're everything they're afraid of. Not a one would take on the likes of you." He had hoped that it would be enough to comfort her. At least until he could figure it out. She had enough to worry about with Draconius and with the tots. She didn't need to worry that she would be turned right under his nose.

Buffy chuckled. "You did," she whispered, brushing a tear from her face with the back of her hand.

"No one ever accused me of being bright, Pet," Spike snarked, brushing his lips against hers. "Besides. I know you. Know you better than the Powers ever could. Think you'd probably march your way up there yourself if they ever tried to turn you into anything but what you are."

Buffy let her head rest on the smooth lines of his chest, her sobs trailing off. "What do you think it means, Spike?"

Spike sighed, settling back down on the bed and drawing her with him. She curled against his naked form, her leg thrown over his thighs. "I don't know. But I think it might be time we actually asked Rupert and Cyrus to find out what the One really is. Besides interesting 'lil powers."

She looked up at him, eyes slyly sparkling. "You mean like this?" She asked, letting her mind wander to a particularly naughty place. Spike purred, his eyes slipping closed.

"Umm... just like that," he said, his hands stroking her bare back. "As much as I find it... useful... I imagine there's a reason for it."

"Other than this?" Buffy asked, her lips tracing his jaw and her mind pushing him a step further.

Spike tensed his body suddenly on fire. "Hell with it. Who needs a greater purpose?"

"You have the energy for this?" Buffy whispered in his ear, her tongue tracing his earlobe and setting fires in its wake. "I mean, what with the massive amount of demon slaughter and the nightmares and recovering from the big holiday shindig, I don't want to wear your old bones out." Really, it wasn't about sex at all. She needed him close. Needed to latch on.

Spike opened one eye, arching an eyebrow at her curiously "You know you're asking for it, Slayer."

She giggled, the tension escaping like air from a tire. "You couldn't handle me."

"That's it," Spike huffed, spinning her and tossing her on her back in one fluid movement. "You're going to regret that."

His lips trailed down her cheek, her jaw, her shoulder. "Is this punishment?" Her voice was still laced in fear, but she had found her home again. Even if only for the night.

Spike smiled against her skin. "Right, Pet. It's, uh, tongue lashing."

"I'm a bad girl," Buffy whispered as she sank into bliss.



It was almost daylight. Buffy was dead to the world, in a manner of speaking, curled against him. Her face was gentle, a half smile playing on her lips. Still, after time and life, she was his golden goddess. Softly, he let his lips brush her forehead and gently disentangled himself from her.

Spike slid into his pajama bottoms, silently slipping from the room. Emma's door was shut tight. He walked towards it, letting it click open softly under his grip. Emma was curled up in a ball in front of Dawn. He had forgotten the younger Summer's girl room was probably over run by Harris's. Still, it was rather sweet the way that his daughter had curled into his Niblet's arms. Not independent. Not yet.

Slowly, Spike made his way to Will's room, peeking in through the open door. He half expected to see River missing, now that Xander was certainly home and he and his lovely wife had taken up residence in the basement. But William was still lying with the pretty little girl sheltered under him. Fast asleep.

Spike's mind was rattled as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He may have played it off to Buffy, but the dream was real. It was there, trying to tell them something. If not, then why would they have shared the nightmare? He closed his eyes, padding through the dining room on bare feet and the glare of yellow eyes, *her* yellow eyes, haunted him.

"You're awake?" A familiar voice asked. Spike's eyes fluttered open to see Giles still huddled over the kitchen counter, looking disheveled and exhausted.

Spike stared at the Watcher a moment. "Thought you would've gone home."

"I thought about it," Giles answered frankly. "But something told me I needed to stay here. Anya called and she was home with Randy and told me it was all right if I..."

"Why did you think you should stay?" Spike asked, interrupting Giles and beginning to make coffee... Blood seemed utterly unappetizing this morning.

Giles removed his glasses, laying them on the counter top. "I don't know. I just. I was about to leave and I felt something. Something."

"Terrifying," Spike muttered, pulling two mugs from the cabinet.

"Yes," Giles agreed, quirking a brow at the Vampire. "Why? Did you."

"Nightmare," Spike answered, the smell of coffee beginning to fill the room.

"What kind of nightmare?"

Spike was silent. He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to articulate that kind of horror, even to her Watcher. But he had to. "Buffy," Spike said quietly. "She had it as well."

Giles was quiet, turning back towards the books on the table. "Both of you shared a vision?"

"Not a surprise there, Rupert," Spike defended, leaning against the sink. "Share most things, nowadays."

"Dreams?" Giles asked.

Spike nodded. "More often than not."

Giles chuckled. "Must make for some interesting conversations after certain fantasies."

Spike shook his head quite seriously. "Can honestly say that my last Playboy playmate dreamscape was before Buffy and I. were together."

"Hunh," Giles answered frankly, nodding. "But this one last night was."

"Frightening," Spike answered, shuddering. "Lots of bits about the past which I am sure you'd love me to recount ad nauseam once I've gotten the house underway." It was a warning more than a promise. One that said to let him handle this at his own pace. "But the crux of it is, Rupert, she was turned."

"Turned?" Giles asked, spinning towards the Vampire. Spike leaned over, pouring coffee into the mugs.

"Turned," Spike repeated. "Won't let that happen. You know I'll never let that happen."

"You can't always be there," Giles answered softly. He knew because he had tried.

Spike sighed, handing the Watcher a mug. "I can and I will. Not going to let this one come to pass, Rupert."

Giles nodded, understanding, but still weary. "Spike, we do need to pay attention to Slayer dreams. They're rather prophetic..."

Spike glared at him for a moment. "I will protect her from it. Not a single one will get close enough to sink their sodding fangs into her. Won't let it happen."

The Watcher stared at him, trying to make sense of it all. "You will fill me in on the vision in its entirety?"

"Soon as I've got a handle on this day," Spike answered, taking a long draw of the hot liquid. "Need to suss it out myself."

"I trust you will watch her back, Spike," Giles said, his voice quiet. "But we need to straighten out why this would happen. We need to be prepared."

Spike wanted to argue, but knew the Watcher was right. Slowly, he nodded. A thought, a horrible one at that, came to mind. "Giles?"

"Yes," the Watcher answered, sipping at his coffee.

Spike was silent, thinking. "Anya is. protective of Randy, isn't she? Rather rough and tumble bird?"

Giles smiled, nodding. "I wouldn't trust anyone more."

"If anything happens.. If things get. Just..." Spike stumbled over the idea, but felt he had to say it. "If things get out of hand here, I want you to take Emma and William to Anya. Have her remove them somewhere we can't find them. "

The Watcher's eyes grew wide. "Take. take your children?"

Spike took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air. "I need to make sure they're safe, Rupert. If anything happens, promise you'll send them to Anya until it's safe again."

Giles nodded slowly.

This was more serious than he thought.

To be contd.

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