Title: Coffee Talk (Chapter Thirteen 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: Spike, Cyrus and Giles try to sort out the shared vision of the night before. Something happens to Buffy before they are able to stop it. Willow and Tara discuss their decision with Oz.



Coffee Talk



Buffy had not been herself all day. The dream had scared her good and proper, Spike thought as he watched her from the doorway of the kitchen. She was sitting on the couch, curled in a ball, watching the tots play on the living room floor. Normally, she would be down in the middle of it. But today, she kept herself closed, like a guardian angel watching from above, rather than a participant in her own existence.

Spike turned back towards the kitchen. Giles and Cyrus had taken over the counter with dusty tomes and piles of note pads. Willow had pulled a chair up and was typing furiously on her laptop. Tara was making lunch. Spike had sent the Harris' home. They might actually be a bit safer there for once.

"What have you found?" Spike asked, settling onto a stool uneasily.

Cyrus sighed. "It seems that the Prophesy of the One is written in an even more archaic text than most," he began. "It has been difficult."

Spike wanted to growl at him, but even with his own proficiency for ancient languages that had come from the joining, he couldn't make heads or tails of the text. "Have you found any-bloody-thing?"

"Willow found a partial translation matrix," Giles answered, trying to make his voice calm and somewhat soothing, despite his frayed nerves. "However, now it is closely akin to reading a book where every other word is smudged. Still, we've hope."

The Vampire took a deep breath, trying to quell his anger. "Is there any mention of . this?"

"Not so far," Cyrus answered. He looked up at Spike, smiling slightly. "Look at it this way. If the Prophesy was a book, the joining is near the end. The finale. What happens next has never been written. As if someone skipped a few chapters and went straight to the story of the Peacemaker."

Spike furrowed his brow. "Not sure I follow."

Giles stood, pouring more coffee into his mug and then filling the others as he spoke. "Spike," he began softly. "You told us that in the vision last evening, the first place that you traveled was to a place with fire where both you and Buffy were children. An ancient place."

"Right," Spike answered nodding, remembering it as if it played in his head as they spoke.

"We believe that to be the First," Giles continued, setting the coffee pot back onto the burner and settling onto his stool again. "And the children, you and Buffy, were the twins then. The original two."

Spike stopped, thinking. "Mummy and Daddy."

"Were gone," Cyrus completed. "When the darkness separated you, they had to remove your parents. The father," he continued, nodding at Giles, "And the mother."

"Anya," Giles contributed. "Really quite natural we found each other again when."

"Tales of the glory days past once this is sussed out," Spike growled, shooting a glare at Giles and then turning his attention back to Cyrus. "Go on."

"From that moment, when the darkness removed you from her that first time, the One had never been rejoined. Until now," Cyrus answered.

Spike sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. "Would you get to the bloody point?" It was more a sigh than a snap. There was too much on his mind to be fussing with semantics.

Willow cleared her throat. "Spike?"

Spike turned his head just enough to eye the redhead without pulling his head from his hands. "Got something to add, Pet?"

"I think what they are trying to say is that, um, there isn't much after the joining because it never happened before. Sort of like. Well, until we met you, there was little information about Slayers' last battles because, well, they didn't make it and their Watchers couldn't tell the tales. So, the prophecy only seems to be talking about what happened in the original joining and then what it would take for you to re-join," Willow stumbled through the words, trying to make it make sense. "I guess that they didn't really know what happened next because it never happened."

Spike turned his head, laying his cheek in his palm and watching Willow. "Thank you."

"For what?" Willow asked, smiling brightly.

"For telling me what these gits wouldn't and that's that you just don't bloody know," Spike responded, anger and resignation mixing in his tone.

"I do believe," Giles interrupted, "That there are parts of the interim text that might explain what you saw in the vision. We just haven't seemed to be able to find them quite yet."

Everything in Spike wanted to snap and verbally brutalize the Watchers, but he held his tongue. It wouldn't accomplish anything. Not even really make him feel better. At least not for long. "So, you think that there might be a clue as to what is happening, or what may happen, in the text?"

"Yes," Cyrus answered. "But Spike, we cannot overlook the thought that this dream was a combination of two separate visions. A memory of the past and an unrelated vision of the future."

Spike's head snapped up. "I won't let her be turned. Not a Vampire in this World could do that. Not with me around."

Cyrus nodded, backing down a bit. "Just remember, Spike, to be particularly observant."

"The more I think about it, the more I think that this is some aberration of the Prophesy. An anomaly. It was part of the original dream, correct? Fluid with the vision of the First?" Giles asked.

"Yeah," Spike sighed. "One big, sodding nightmare."

"Which tells me that it should be connected," Giles continued. "That there is a reason for this."

Willow looked down at her watch and jumped a little with surprise. "I've got to go!" She stood, knocking the stool down and grabbing her coat. "I. I'll be back.I promise.. I just have.There's something.."

Giles smiled softly at her. "Go. We'll be here when you're back."

Spike snarled at that thought.

Willow nervously grinned and took off towards the living room, passing Buffy and kissing her cheek as she ran past.

"What was that all about?" Buffy asked, trying to smile weakly.

Spike stood, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around Buffy's waist, his body settling against hers perfectly. She sighed involuntarily. "Red had an appointment. Not to worry, Pet. Got the rest of us slaving away."

"It's all right," Buffy whispered, letting her head rest against his chest and closing her eyes. "Any luck?"

"Not yet, Love," Spike answered, stroking her hair. "We'll suss it out. You know that."

She moved her head back enough to look up at his crystal blue eyes. "I know." She paused a moment and then dragged her body away from his warmth. "Think I'm going to take the kids out back with Pony. I need some air."

"Right then," Spike agreed, nodding. "They got their jackets on?"

"I said the word out and they were in coats and shoes before I could stand," Buffy chuckled, feeling a little better. She clutched her sweater over one arm. Spike watched her. Her knuckles were white, her hands balled into little fists. He hated that she was frightened and there was nothing he could do to change it.

"Let me get that," Spike said softly, loosing the sweater from over her arm and opening it up, helping her to put it on. He could feel the nervous energy flutter around her like terrified butterflies. Soon that fear would turn to anger. But for now, she was vulnerable. "You be all right?"

Buffy turned back to face him, drawing the long, heavy sweater closed around her. She smiled, weakly. "Yeah." She took a deep breath and turned to the living room. "Well come on," she shouted to the kids. "You wanted to go out, right?"

Two blonde heads tore at mock speed through the living room and to the kitchen, giggling all the way, brushing past their parents and bustling towards the back door. Spike shook his head, watching William try to keep his balance with that huge yellow cast strapped to his little body. "Got a bit of energy?" Spike asked sarcastically.

"You have no idea," Buffy sighed, smiling and following the kids to the back door. She opened it into a beautiful day, the kids tearing onto the porch before she could finish opening the door. Buffy took a step and felt it. Her body felt.strange. Hot. Warmer than it was outside. Her skin was tight and burning. God, it burned. She took another step to the porch and took a breath, screaming.



Tara sat in the corner booth of the quiet coffee shop. The outdoor mall was bustling, but the shop was dark and quiet. It seemed to be a rule of cafes. The people in the corner booth were there because it was private. They didn't want to be disturbed. They had words meant to be whispered only to each other.

Willow smiled as she eased into the booth next to Tara. "Hey, baby."

"Hey," Tara answered, leaning forward to kiss her lover's cheek. "How is everything with."

"Buffy is all down and Spike is wound tight and ." The redhead sighed. "We couldn't figure it out."

"You will," Tara encouraged, her smile so soothing and sweet. She took Willow's hands between hers. "You sure about.about this?"

Willow took a deep breath. "Ready."

"For what?" A familiar voice said, standing with his hand on the creaky faux leather of the booth. Both girls stared like fawns in the glare of high beams, but managed to smile. Oz returned it warmly, settling down across from them in the semi-circular booth.

Willow blushed, deep and blood red, swallowing hard. "Oz, um."

The waitress came to the table, a green apron tied neatly around her waist. "Get anything for you?"

"Coffee," Willow muttered. "Lots. Um, and sugar."

The waitress raised an eyebrow, smiling softly. "That's generally the stuff we have around here."

Tara chuckled. "Two tall lattes and." she nodded at Oz.

"Just a plain coffee flavoured coffee," Oz answered a smile in his voice. The waitress nodded, walking back towards the main seating area. "Will, you okay?"

"F...fine," Willow stuttered, her hand suddenly hot and damp in Tara's. Tara squeezed it softly and smiled.

"Oz," the usually shy girl began. "We called you, um..."

"Because of the offer," Oz helped, leaning back in the seat and stretching his legs under the table.

"Right," Tara answered, smiling and looking down for a moment. This was not going to be easy. But like all major decisions, once the cards were on the table, they were just cards. It would be easier once they said it. "We've decided to.to take you up on it."

A mixture of expressions passed over the werewolf's face. Surprise, shock, interest, happiness, fear, lust.. Hold that one, he thought, wondering what their plan was. "Um, okay," he responded, nodding, his own palms beginning to get warm. "Good."

Willow smiled nervously, her body twitching with nerves. "I think it was really. I think that you. It is a really nice thing you offered..."

"Spike's idea," Oz answered, playing with the sugar caddy to disperse some of the nervous energy. "But thanks."

"Still, it was you who agreed," Tara answered, still not quite meeting his eyes.

The waitress returned to the table and set the cups down. She looked at the group for a moment and could feel the tension like a rubber band waiting to snap. No more witty banter at table seven, she thought as she nodded and walked away.

Oz was thoughtful for a moment, now turning the mug back and forth between his palms. "How. I mean. what do you need me to do?"

Willow and Tara looked at each other, uncertainty passing over their faces. They had talked about this a million times now, but when it came down to it, they didn't know how to make it all make sense. How to put it into words. Whether or not it was too crazy or too sane. "Um..." Willow stuttered.

"Do you want me to go to the clinic and." The thought was a bit disturbing. Not that he hadn't done it at least a half dozen times. this month. but thinking about doing it in a clinical, sterile setting gave him a shot of nerves.

Willow swallowed her body as tight as wire. Still, she clutched Tara's hand. "No," the redhead finally answered. "I mean, not unless you would rather."

Oz chuckled. "We may be willing to do that at a moment's notice, but we'd rather have more than just ourselves involved," he stated, chuckling.

Both girls blushed. "Oh," Tara said quietly, one hand wrapped around the warm coffee mug and the other around Willow's even warmer hand.

"So you want to." Oz questioned, trying not to betray the appeal of the thought. These women belonged to each other and would never be anything but what they were. But still, they were hot.

"Yes," Willow answered, a long breath escaping a sigh to go with the word.

"Yes?" Oz asked, a little surprised and a whole lot happier. This would be far more interesting than the clinic. The sterile clinic. Why did the word sterile keep jumping to mind?

"Yes," Tara agreed, nodding softly.

"I see," Oz commented, leaning back against the booth again. "Um, you sure?"

"Yes," Willow answered again, only able to make monosyllabic words out of her rattled thoughts. She smiled nervously.

"Okay," Oz drew out, taking a sip of his coffee. "This is going to sound really. well, this . how do we do this?"

Tara smiled, her grin brightening up the room. "I was hoping you could tell me," she joked, her voice thready and nervous.

That took him off guard, Willow thought as Oz's eyes opened wide. "What.I. I thought that. well, I assumed that."

"What?" Tara asked, taking her momentum and a little bit of courage.

"That, if you decided. that.I figured. it would be Willow," Oz answered, flustered, his eyes darting from one woman to the other. "I mean, not that I mind. I mean, this isn't about me. but."

"It will be," Willow answered, bailing him out and smiling reassuringly.

Oz relaxed a bit, getting a hold on his reeling thoughts. He sighed, slumping into the chair. "I'm confused. She said."

The women looked at each other a long moment... Finally, Willow spoke. "Oz, we're. we're a couple. Forever. That's not going to change. We.we thought about this so much.and we can't. we couldn't.."

"Decide," Tara completed. "I mean, we got the how down, but the who."

Oz quirked a brow, a sudden thought occurring to him. "What are you trying to tell me? Exactly."

Tara looked at Willow. Willow looked at Tara. They both turned back to Oz. "That it's the package deal," Willow said nervously, a little nervous laugh escaping from the last word.

The werewolf looked gob smacked, his eyes as wide as saucers and his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't think that they would go for it at all. If they did, they'd certainly make him go to the sterile clinic. The best he could have hoped for from the deal was a one-night walk down memory lane for him, and a baby for his ex. But now. "You're serious?"

Tara smiled nervously. "I.I don't know much about."

"It will double our chances," Willow blurted, trying to be reasonable. "I mean, if it even works at all."

The blood was rushing out of Oz's brain as he tried to grapple with this one. Two beautiful women. One of which was completely untouched by a man and the other his first love. This was. did he fall asleep at home with Skinemax on again?

"Oz?" Willow's concern came through in her tone.

His eyes fluttered back to her. "Uh, yeah."

"You all right?"

He took a deep breath. "Can you run this by me one more time? I think I confused it with some movie I was watching."

Tara blushed, her pretty face even prettier for the colour. "We'd like you.we want your help. We want to do this. And we want to do this together."

Oz stared for a moment. Close, but he wanted to be sure that he wasn't the kid that thought he was getting the BMX for Christmas and ended up with a pink big wheel. "All three of us?"

Willow nodded slowly, a little embarrassed, and, frankly, a little excited by the thought. "Yeah," she confirmed softly. "Would you still help us?"

That got a chuckle from Oz. "Willow, I think you're confused on who's getting the gifts.."

To be contd.

Nimue

Title: Nothing Looks the Same in the Light (Chapter Fourteen 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: Draconius and Luke revel in the first tangible success of their spell. The mysterious woman watches a strange floor show and is struck by the players. Spike deals with the repercussions of what happened to Buffy on the porch, and explains to her the consequences of what is happening.



Nothing Looks the Same in the Light



"Heeeeee," Luke giggled, doing a little jig at his place on the marble floor. He was in a red satin bathrobe, his hair mussed from what looked to be a wild ride with Candy. The monitor flickered before him, giving him a black and white view of the show through a peephole in the shed. Draconius stood on tip toes trying to see over his shoulder.

"What's going on, you unimaginative git," Draconius snarled, hopping up to try and see the monitor over Luke's broad shoulders.

"Oh, sorry short stuff," Luke replied, letting his arm fall down and out to the side. He was a taller man, with broad, muscular shoulders. Had he not been a hell god, he would have made quite a male model. As it stood, Luke could spend very little time still or things tended to get.dead.

Draconius swallowed his ire at the remark and leaned over Luke's forearm to watch the monitor. A smile broke on his face watching the pretty little Slayer stand immobilized on her porch, screaming. There wasn't quite the floorshow he had hoped in that their little spell had not come into full force. He'd hoped for flames and smoke rising from her pretty peach skin, but he'd settle for the screams and that sort of dull, singed look. "The spell is growing in power," he said, musing at the sight of the woman standing on the deck, the two children barely visible on the bottom of the stairs, now crying up at their mother.

"Growing?" Luke said, a little happy awe in his voice. "There's more?"

The old one nodded, a sly smile breaking across his ancient features. "Oh, there is so much more."



Spike's arm darted through the doorway, grabbing the hood of Buffy's long sweater and yanking her as hard as he could muster. Cyrus was around the counter in seconds, heading out the door and to the children so that Spike could figure out what had happened. Buffy still screamed, her face locked in a tight grimace as she stumbled backwards into the house. Giles stared, his eyes as large as saucers.

It terrified him. That look of utter horror etched into her face as Spike spun her towards him. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth pinched in a pained grimace; lines creasing her face and making her look so old and so tired. Spike held Buffy's shoulders, steadying her a moment while he figured out what to do. One hand rose to her, fingers stroking her cheek softly. "Buffy? Love?"

Her eyes fluttered open and her face suddenly relaxed into the pretty young woman he knew so well. She blinked, her eyes trying to focus, trying to grab onto his and steady like a drowning person reaching for a life preserver. Her features were normal now except for a worried little crease in her brow.

Buffy stared at him wordlessly, trying to fight it. Trying to make it not what it was, whatever that had been. But he could hear her screaming in her mind. The sun had burned her. The sun, the parent to which her spirit had been a child, had expelled her into darkness. Her heart raced, her pulse jumping in her neck. Spike nodded, understanding that she didn't want to say it. Didn't want to explain. Didn't want it to be real.

Slowly, gently, he pulled the sweater from one side of her neck, inspecting her. Then the other. Both without letting the Watchers or the children see what he was doing. There was nothing but three older marks. Two on one side. One on the other. He nodded again, sliding his hands down her arms and pushing the sweater sleeves up beyond her elbows. Slowly, as if he was afraid of frightening her, he turned her hands, palm to the sky, in his. Her wrists were smooth and delicate, the now pale expanse of arm to her elbows unmarked. Vampires could feed on a human anywhere, but they preferred certain spots. Neck. Wrist. Elbow. He'd make it a point to check the rest of her as he drew her a bath.

Giles finally spoke, his voice cracking. "What.what is it?"

Buffy's eyes filled with unshed tears and her mind screamed now. Spike answered her without opening his mouth. Her Watcher needed to know to help. But not now. Not this second. Spike needed to take care of his own first. Gently, he pulled Buffy towards him until her head was buried in his chest and he could feel her body tense and hitch as she cried. "Migraine," Spike said, his eyes frightened as he looked at the Watcher. "Makes her eyes sensitive out of doors," he continued his voice bland and metered.

"Oh," Giles responded, watching Buffy shudder against Spike's chest and Spike pull her closer against him. "She'll be all right then?"

"Right as rain," Spike answered comfortingly, stroking Buffy's hair. But it wasn't. Nothing was right about this. Spike nodded curtly at the Watcher. "Would you be sure to keep an eye on Will and Emma with Cyrus? Think Buffy could use a hot bath and a nap."

"Of course," Giles answered, the sound of the wood squeaking against the tile as he stood filling the room. "You will come back down and let us know how we can help?"

Spike nodded, this time more sadly. "That I will. I just have to."

"Of course," Giles repeated, watching Spike guide his charge from the room, her face still invisible from unwanted eyes.

"Thank you," Spike answered quietly, his tone telling the Watcher that there was more, but now just wasn't the time.



The woman stood, her face pressed to the crack between the metal door and the wooden wall of the shed. She couldn't see much from this angle. Not that what she saw meant a whole lot. More mortals. More little humans milling around and making her think. Making her brain ache trying to figure out what they were and why she was there and if she should know them from somewhere and if she'd care if she did.

The girl screaming on the porch had been interesting. Forced the woman to cover her ears as she watched the pretty little blonde girl wiggle and shout, her voice full of pain. It sounded like the nights in the place she had been before this. When the new people came and they were screaming and the good-looking mean man tortured them. The sound was almost comforting.

And then the handsome prince came back and saved the screaming girl. She had fallen quiet and all that was left was the sound of sobbing small people. Another man came out to watch the smaller ones, comforting them and cooing. Stupid sound, cooing. She couldn't really see the little ones. There was a girl. She was small but her spirit was huge. Like she was part of the sunshine. And a smaller one. There was something about him that itched the back of her brain. Niggled and twisted and burned. But he was just small and weak and had a bright yellow arm. Maybe he was half bird and she had seen that in the place before.

Didn't matter anyway.



He leaned over the tub, letting hot water fill it and adding capfuls of vanilla scented bubbles. He knew what she liked. He always knew.

Buffy leaned against the counter, her robe closed tight across her chest. She'd undressed herself in the bedroom and then came in to meet him. She looked shaken. Worn. Her fingers dug into the fabric of the robe as she pulled it so tight around her it looked as if she might be able to make it go around twice.

Spike turned, letting the tub fill, the steam and the sound infusing the room. He watched her, his face set in concern. She hadn't been attacked. Hadn't been bitten. He'd been with her almost all the time. He'd have noticed if she'd lost a pulse. If she'd died and risen. Buffy was half of him, literally. He should have known.

He took a step closer and she tensed, hands clutching white knuckled at the terry cloth. Spike stopped, his eyes catching hers and she relaxed, just a bit. "It's me, Pet. All right?"

Buffy nodded, trying to uncurl her hands and letting the sound of the water and the smell of the room relax her just a bit. "What.what if time went all crazy again, Spike? What if they took me and then made me. and set it all back to normal before we even realized it?"

Spike cautiously approached her again. "Don't think you're a Vampire, Buffy," he said softly. That much was true. Her heart was racing, her breath pumping in shuddery streams from her lungs. There were some things happening that didn't add up, but she wasn't a Vampire.

"Then what?" She asked, her eyes filling with tears. "Why?"

"Dunno, Love," Spike answered softly, laying his hands on top of hers and squeezing gently. "We'll sort it out."

Buffy nodded, the burning warmth of tears behind her eyes. "Promise?"

Spike smiled softly. "Swear. You know, if nothing else, I'm good for my word."

She smiled wearily back at him. "I know. That's not all you're good for though."

Spike chuckled, gently pushing her arms to her sides. "Need to be sure, Pet. We need to be sure that you weren't bitten, all right? Don't think that's the case. Think you'd know. Think I'd know."

"I thought you could only be claimed once," Buffy said quietly.

His eyes shot to hers. "You can, Love. Not like that. " Spike stopped, sighing. She didn't know. As much as she knew about him, and about hunting Vampires, she didn't really get the whole levels of biting and reasons. Too much to explain while the bath was running, but he thought he'd set her mind at ease.

"Love, a Vampire bites its prey for a few reasons. First, to eat," Spike said, his fingers sliding slowly down the front of her robe to the tie, trying not to startle her. She watched him intently, listening. "The second reason is for sex," Spike continued. "Lots of Vampires, and a right lot of humans, get their rocks off on the sensation."

"Eww," Buffy commented, trying to smile. "I mean, like Ri."

"Don't!" Spike snapped half-heartedly. "Never want to say that git's name again."

Buffy tittered as Spike untied the robe, letting it fall open and exposing a small line of her creamy, smooth skin. "Back to the lesson," he continued, distracting her as he searched her quietly. "Third reason would be to turn someone. Make more."

She tensed at the thought, convinced that was what had happened to her. Spike sensed it and stopped moving, catching her eyes again in his. Buffy stared for a moment and settled. Watching his eyes was like watching blue waves crash gently on the shore. They pulsed and dove and soared and sucked her in. "Okay," she whispered.

"To do that," Spike began again, pushing the robe from her shoulders and slowly guiding it down her arms, "Bugger'd have to bite you, which, as you know, hurts, and force you to drink."

"It only hurt at first," Buffy said, her fingers tracing the marks he'd left on the right side of her neck.

Spike nodded. "Even with Peaches and that sodding poof Dracula, and especially with me, no one was going for the pain. It hurts, Buffy. A lot. When I . when we. I was gentle. Wasn't out to turn you into a Vampire, Love. Wasn't out to make you one with the darkness and pain. Wasn't really wanting to do it at all. If anything I was stealing your light."

Her hand fluttered to his face as she stood naked in front of him. "I was giving it to you, " Buffy whispered, her thumb tracing along his cheekbone. Softly, he smiled.

"I know, Love. And I am eternally grateful." His eyes began to scan her body. Neck, shoulders, collarbones, arms, all as he talked and held her gently. "But, the point being, that no one was trying to make you a Vampire. Didn't hurt much because didn't want it to."

Buffy nodded, letting him inspect her slowly, his eyes brushing against her flesh as real as if they were fingers. It made her skin burn with a good, beautiful, fire. "Understand."

"Last reason Vampire's bite is to claim," Spike continued, turning her towards the wall and continuing the visual inspection of her back. "To make another ours. Like making a vow that you claim another as your own, and they claim you in return. Not always romantic, but, being a sappy sod since I met you, was in our case."

Buffy smiled a true, radiant smile at him. "I kinda like you sappy sometimes."

He rolled his eyes, continuing his lecture. "Less you've been holding back on me, you hadn't been claimed before. Though I'm pretty sure I'd've known if you were. Sort of leaves a mark. Not a physical one, but."

"But a heart one," Buffy said quietly. He nodded. She shook her head. "No. No claiming. Not for me. Not till you."

Spike smiled, stroking her cheek. "Never again either. If that's all right with you."

"I think my dance card is happily full," Buffy replied, her smile lighting the room. She was quiet a minute. "So how long does claiming last? I mean, in normal, not One joined kind of Vampire, people, relationships."

He had to chuckle. In all these years, around all these mostly well educated, well spoken people, Buffy had managed to retain her own little language skills. Smart as a whip, but talked in circles. "Usually for eternity, but doesn't always work. Bit like marriage in that respect."

Buffy chuckled. "Did for us."

"We aren't your normal Mr. and Mrs. Smith of 1630 Revello, with two point five tots and one of those tasteless minivans," Spike snarked. "Unless you're not telling me something and there's a point five baking and a block of jello on wheels on order."

Buffy giggled. "Okay, we're the demon fighting Mrs. and Mr. Windsor of 1630 Revello with a nice round two kids and a regular car. Oh, and some mystical connection that always keeps us together. And no point five that I know of."

"Sounds about right," Spike answered, turning her back towards him. "And happy to report, there's not a mark on you, Pet."

She smiled brightly. "So, glad you are thorough." She was silent a moment, her mind turning dizzying circles. Then the smile faded and he felt as if the lights in the room had been dimmed.

"What is it, Pet?" Spike asked as she stood before him. She was naked and always glorious, but she suddenly became very small and alone.

"Why then?" Buffy asked, her eyes filling and her body beginning to tremble. "If nothing bit me, tried to turn me, then why? You know that what happened outside was.."

Spike swallowed, his eyes falling from hers. "Burning," he whispered. "Know it well, Pet."

"If I'm not." Buffy said, the first of those big, wet tears drizzling down her face in a silver laced trail. "Then what?"

Spike gathered her against him, backing her towards the now brimming tub. He turned off the water with one hand and scooped her up with the other. "Not sure, Love," he answered. "But it's not real. Not really, at least. So, we'll mend it. Make it right."

Buffy swallowed as he gently lowered her into the water. It was hot, but like sinking into calm. He settled her against the bottom and brought his hands to her face. "What if we can't?" Buffy whispered, terrified. Scared that if this was real, if she was somehow turned into the one thing they fought against, he would no longer love her. Her kids wouldn't love her. Her friends.

Spike felt that thought rip through him like a dagger. She thought it changed anything about how he felt. Didn't want to see her as fanged and bumpy just because he knew *she'd* hate it. Didn't matter to him if she was suddenly a Fyarl demon. She was still his Buffy. His mate. His life. "Buffy," he sighed, kneeling down next to the tub and brushing damp strands of hair from her shoulders. "Don't think that what is happening is permanent. Think it's something the Wonder Twins of Tweed downstairs can suss out and fix eventually." Buffy moved to speak but Spike shh'd her with a finger over her lips. "But even if it were, Pet, even if you were a Vampire. Wouldn't matter. I'd love you all the same. Kid's still have their mum. I'd still have you. Be an adjustment, more for you than me, but wouldn't change anything. Not to mention, you've your own do-it yourself manual of successful, not particularly evil , Vampire sleeping mere inches away from you. I don't want this to be real because *you* would hate it. It honestly doesn't matter to me."

Buffy looked at him for a minute, knowing he was telling her the truth, but still uncertain. "You. you'd love me the same if. if."

Spike sighed, leaning against the side of the tub and letting his face brush close to hers. "Buffy, when things started. when Emma. I was a Vampire. Well and truly. No daylight. No pulse. Right?"

Buffy nodded, feeling his breath blow against her cheek.

"When you came for me, at that git's red mansion, I was a Vampire. Not some sort of halfway creature. Just a Vampire. Plain and simple. Right?"

"Yes," Buffy breathed, barely able to speak.

"Buffy," he whispered, moving back enough to see her eyes. "Did you love me then? Really?"

She stared at him for a long moment. Not that she had to think about the answer, but because he'd even asked. "Yes," she replied softly.

"And I was a Vampire?" Spike asked. "Completely?"

"Yes."

"Then what makes you think for a bloody second that it would change anything for me?" Spike asked, his hands now on her cheeks forcing her to look at him. "If you could love me then, why is it so hard to believe that I would love you now, were it even remotely true?"

Big, wet drops spilled from Buffy's eyes as she stared at him. She loved him. Every part of her loved him and she knew he felt the same. It had been a silly fear. Then again, most fear was. But still. It had been there. It wasn't anymore.

"I know you would," Buffy said quietly, her eyes still trapped in his. "But I'm . I'm scared."

Spike softened, leaning in closer again. "I know, Love. But we *will* make it right. And I'll be there when it's over. Never leaving."

Buffy smiled, tears running down her face. "Then please don't go now."

He backed up on his knees, quirking a brow. She looked so afraid and so alone, but a small smile was trying to play on her lips. "Not going anywhere, Pet."

She shook her head, letting one wet hand rise from the bubbles. "I think that you might have missed a few spots on your search."

A sly grin broke out on his face. "Want me to smell like a damned Vanilla plant, do you?"

"You're already covered in it from me," Buffy reminded, blowing bubbles against the front of his shirt.

He sighed dramatically, peeling the t-shirt off and tossing it behind him. "If it'll make you feel better for me to continue the search."

"It's a hard job," Buffy began, "but someone has to do it."

To be contd.

Title: Give and Take (Chapter Fifteen 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. Also, please visit the wonderful fan listing that Rachel put together. Sign up today and link to your website (or just sign up to say hi!). The fan listing can be found at http://www.cloudy-visions.org/nimue/always.htm

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: Oz, Tara and Willow finish their conversation about events to come. Draconius sets Luke straight about their plan. Spike has to explain to the children what is wrong with their mother, and face some frightening truths when talking to Giles.

Give and Take





Oz looked at the girls kindly, but with newfound awe and reverence. It wasn't often that an opportunity like this presented itself to a werewolf. "So, um.what do we do? I mean, I know, but how? When? Logistics. you know."

Tara smiled shyly. "I was hoping you would know what to do. "

The werewolf returned it warmly. "Well, yeah. But well, you know. I mean, the three. oh, hell. Is it fair to say that I am really stoked?"

Willow giggled nodding head. "Fair enough."

"Um," Oz began, his eyes darting around the room like small disco balls. He wasn't even sure where to begin. It was like Christmas all over, yet he had to restrain his enthusiasm and remember that, despite the offer on the table, this wasn't about his pleasure. This was about them. He was just getting a gift with purchase. "You sure you want to do this?"

"Sure," Tara answered, smiling shyly. "We...we've discussed it a lot, Oz, and it's really the only way that either of us will feel comfortable."

Oz shifted, suddenly feeling pleasantly uncomfortable with the questions brewing in his mind. "So, uh, do you.I mean, you want me to.both of you, right? I mean.or is one kind of spectating, because that would be.man.talk about performance under pressure." His cheeks were red, his small mouth quirked in an expression straddling the line between utter happiness and complete humiliation.

"Both," Willow answered. "I mean, both of us, with the involvement. If we're going to do this, and probably just once, then we want to give it our best shot."

"Think it's *my* best shot you're asking for," Oz answered, spinning the coffee mug between his hands. "I mean, literally speaking."

Tara's eyes darted from Oz to the table and back at least a million times, as if looking at him suddenly made it real. "We want to be sure..we have a better chance of at least one of us.if both of us."

"So, what you're saying is I need to rest up and break out the Yohimbe," Oz joked, leaning back in the seat and drumming some foreign beat on the table.

"If that's what it takes," Willow answered. "I mean.if you want. You don't have to do this..."

"Want to," Oz interrupted, almost too quickly. "Was that pathetically enthusiastic?"

Both women smiled at him. "Not so much with the pathetic, but good with the enthusiasm," Willow replied, her eyes dancing. "So, you're in?"

"I am your baby making wolf man," Oz answered, sticking his hand across the table. Willow shook, Tara laying her hand on top of them both. They were quiet for a moment, holding their hands together in the center of the table. "So, when do you want to.?"

Willow looked at Tara, an unspoken conversation passing between them. They looked back at Oz. "There are some things going on with Buffy and Spike.I think we should help them out first. You know, since Spike kinda helped us with the whole.arranging this."

Oz nodded. "Anything I can do?"

"Not sure," Willow answered. "Help if you speak ancient African dialects."

"Only on Tuesdays," Oz joked, a warm smile breaking across his face. "But I'm willing to be the coffee brigade."

"Much coffee is needed," Tara contributed, her face nearly as radiant as her heart. "The research gets a little."

"Slow," Oz completed. "Scooby ex meritus."

Tara smiled. "Right. So, yeah, um, why don't you come with us to Buffy's and you can brew while we crack books."

"Can do," the werewolf completed, dropping a few bills on the table and scooting out of the booth. He paused, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "Let me just make sure I got this straight. You two want to have a baby, so you want me to sleep with both of you.together.and try to make sure that one of you ends up with a were-witch cross?"

"Pretty much," Willow answered, taking his now outstretched hand and climbing out of the booth, pulling Tara out behind her. "That okay?"

"Oh, that's.that's.there are no words," Oz answered, standing between the two women. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Willow said, wrapping an arm around his waist. Tara followed suit, her hand wrapping around Willow's behind Oz's back. "Off to save the day."



"So, what's the next step?" Luke chirped, buttoning the collar of his crisp red satin shirt and grabbing a suit jacket from his wardrobe.

Draconius sat in an overstuffed chair, puffing on his pipe. "It's up to them, really. How they react. Hard to know what it was that made each of them so. them."

"Not sure I'm following," Luke replied, plopping down into a chair opposite the old one. "I mean, what does it matter who they are."

A smile broke on Draconius's face. "Ah, see now this is why you need me," he sighed, leaning back into the velvet. "The One is merely the joining of two separate entities. The Vampire and the Slayer."

"That much, I got," Luke answered, balancing his right foot on his left knee and adjusting himself. Satin pants were a little slick against the skin.

"The powers inherent to each, however equal in this particular situation, come with their own drawbacks. I doubt this will have much physical effect on the Vampire of Heart, as he possessed most of the Slayer's inherent abilities before the joining, lacking maybe the prophetic dreams and the fully blown morality that comes with the sharing of soul," Draconius continued.

"Aaaallllrrriiiiggghhhttt," Luke drew out, crinkling his brow.

Draconius sighed long and deep, muttering the idiocy of his unlikely partner to the air. "However," he began anew, "The Vampire has some characteristics that the Slayer is utterly unfamiliar with and has no idea how to control. Not to mention, they are completely abhorrent to her."

"So, why take out the Slayer as opposed to the Vampire. Is she more of a threat?" Luke asked, a Cosmopolitan appearing on the table next to him as if my some hellish magic. Okay, it was by some hellish magic.

"They are of equal threat," Draconius corrected, taking another long pull from his pipe. "However, the Vampire's utter devotion to his Slayer will kill two birds with one stone."

Luke crinkled his brow again, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm back to not with the following."

"You really *are* a moron," the old one sighed, pushing himself out of the chair and beginning to pace back and forth in front of it. "The Vampire will be so concerned and so confused by what is happening to his precious mate, he will become less alert to anything but her plight. All consumed b y saving his golden goddess that he will not notice that we have taken their little hell spawn right from underneath of them."

"I don't know," Luke whined. "I mean, by all accounts, both parents are pretty ferocious when it comes to those little rug rats."

"Maybe so," Draconius nodded. "However, my guess is that the Vampire removes them from their home before their mum becomes a danger to them."

"So where do we find them?" Luke asked, shaking his head slightly. All this evil scheming was making his head hurt.

"That is something we will have to figure out as we go."



Spike was spooned behind her, listening to the soft sigh of her breath as she slept. It was an uneasy rest, but exhaustion had bettered her concern. She was curled in a ball, wearing a tank top and flannel pajamas, her back pressed tight against his chest. Spike stroked her bare arm, lulling her, almost trying to keep her under the tide of sleep. If he could keep her calm, he'd be calm. If he were calm, he'd be rational. If he were rational, he could find the answer.

But his whole world fell apart when she cried.

Buffy had cried softly most of the way to sleep. She'd been all right in the bath. He had time tested ways of distracting her. But once she the lull of the afterglow wore off, the tears started anew. Soft, quiet ones. The most heart breaking of all because there was no anger behind them to fight. Just fear. And fear was the one weakness they both had.

Slowly, he loosed himself from her lock against him, scooting backwards in almost infinitesimal movements. Buffy stirred and Spike stopped, but she sighed and nestled back into the pillow. It took everything he had to leave her, but there were two Watchers downstairs that needed to suss out the answer. And two tots downstairs that were probably frightened out of their wee gourds.

Spike padded out the door on silent bare feet, and headed downstairs to face that which he feared.

"It wasn't a migraine, was it?" Giles asked, removing his glasses and massaging his brow. Spike had padded into the kitchen silently, setting the kettle back on the stove. Tea. Would soothe them both.

"No," the Vampire finally added, his voice quiet and distant.

"As much I thought," Giles continued, leafing aimlessly through a dusty tome. "Is she all right?"

"For now," Spike whispered, walking to the back door and looking out the window. The kids were sitting on the swings, being pushed gently by Cyrus. They weren't talking or laughing, but looked otherwise normal.

"Spike?" The Watcher's voice was hesitant, but he pushed on. "Did she...Was she burning?"

Spike turned from the window to face the man who had become Buffy's father. Both of their faces were tired, worn. "In a manner of speaking."

"Would you mind.could you explain?" Giles asked, closing the book with a soft tap.

"She didn't actually burn," Spike whispered, his voice so far away that Giles wondered if he was really there at all. Maybe he was still wrapped around her upstairs and this was just a shell. A vision. But the Vampire moved across the floor and rattled tea cups as he rummaged through the cabinets.

"What did happen?" Giles asked, pushing his stool back from the counter and turning to watch Spike. The Vampire's movements were slow, hesitant. Like he was making sure he didn't break under the pressure.

"She felt it," Spike continued in the same horribly distant voice. "I felt it too. Burning. Like the sun, the world, rejects you. Skin gets hot, and then it feels like acid. She felt it."

"Oh God," Giles commented, covering his eyes for a moment. "Is she. is she burned?"

"No," Spike replied concisely. "Checked her over myself. Not a mark on her pretty little body. Not a singe, not a red spot, not a bite."

"So, she hasn't been turned. At least, not traditionally speaking," Giles sighed, almost to himself.

"No," Spike answered. "Heart's fluttering like a scared animal. Breathing normally. Skin's warm. Not a Vampire."

"You've all those things, Spike. And you're still a Vampire," Giles commented, finally raising his eyes to Spike once again.

Spike poured hot water into two cups. "True."

It felt as if a light bulb went off over the Watcher's head. "Spike, do you think. I mean, it seems."

"That she is taking on some of my less endearing characteristics? Thought of that, Mate. But I don't burn in sunshine either. anymore."

"Exactly," Giles replied. "But your demon does. Your demon does all of those things. Maybe she is slowly being infected by the demon."

A wave of guilt crashed over Spike like a tsunami. "You mean that by joining with me, I am leading her to be what she hates?"

A sad expression passed over the Watcher's face. "No, Spike. I don't think that at all. Nor do I think she really hates Vampires as a rule. What I am saying is that the One keeps a channel open between you at all times. Normally, that channel doesn't alter physicalities. In this case, something has forced physical attributes, specific ones, to travel through the connection, thereby infecting one with the traits of the other."

"Not like I've any urge to be all Chosen," Spike snarked, heaping sugar into his tea and handing Giles a cup.

"I think that the Slayer traits are probably something you possessed to begin with in some fashion. But I do notice you've been rather remiss in eating today," The Watcher continued.

Spike raised an eyebrow. Donut when the red head stopped by. Shared a granola bar with Emma. Couple of cups of coffee. "I've eaten."

"Have you fed?" Giles asked.

Blood. Hadn't gone near it today. That was odd. Not necessarily good either. He could eat human food, but he was still a Vampire. Needed blood to survive. "No."

"So, certain things are changing," Giles sighed, lacing his hands behind his head.

"How?" Spike asked. "And how do we change them back? Is this normal? I mean, is this supposed to happen? If so, this is not a bloody good deal for her."

"I honestly don't think this is meant to happen," Giles replied with confidence. "I think that the One is meant to act as it has for the past five years. Something has happened to throw off the balance."

"Spell?" Spike asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Giles nodded. "Spell, enchantment, talisman. Mystical energy with something being used as the focus."

"Would ask who would do that, but it's not like Buffy and me haven't made an army of enemies."

"This is Draconius," the Watcher said, leaning forward again, his forearms on the table, his fingers clasped together tightly. "Has to be."

Spike's brow furrowed. "Thought we sent him to hell, Mate."

"He has sent someone back."

The door flew open and two small people barged inside followed by a concerned, yet gentle Watcher. Cyrus nodded at Spike and walked silently over to the stove to make some tea.

"Daddy!" Emma screamed, running at her father with Will on her heels and Pony bringing up the rear with his thundering paws.

"Hello, Mite," Spike answered, his entire demeanor changing as the youngsters came in. Giles knew it was an act, but it was a good one. And a necessary evil.

"Daddy," Will cheered, grabbing onto his calf with his one good arm.

"Will," he answered, ruffling his hair. "Have a nice play?"

"Yes, daddy," Emma answered, crawling into his lap. Spike leaned down and gently pulled William up with her. They both stared at him with huge, brilliant blue eyes, full of questions.

Spike took a breath. How to handle this one? No one makes a manual for parenting of the children of joined super human, part demonic beings. Just wasn't a NY Times best seller. "What's wrong, Mite?"

"Is mum all right?" Emma asked, biting her lip.

Will trembled a little, burying his face in Spike's arm. "She was screamin'," the boy mumbled.

"She was," Spike answered, nodding, buying time. "But she's right as rain. Just feeling a little poorly is all."

"Like Will?" Emma asked, brushing her gentle fingers against the little boy's cast.

"Only nothing's broken," Spike answered, kissing Emma's forehead. "Mum's not broken. Just. remember when you had the flu a few weeks ago."

Emma nodded, watching her father's eyes. "Yes."

"A bit like that. All hot and fevery and sickly and scared," Spike continued, his nose crinkled for effect. Emma smiled at the gesture.

"Maybe we should make her soup," Emma suggested. "I liked it when mummy made me soup."

"Soup it is," Spike agreed, smiling down at her. He stroked her back almost aimlessly as Will curled under his other arm. "Let's let her rest a bit longer, then we'll take her something to eat."

Will yawned. "I want to see her now."

Spike shot a helpless glance at Giles. Neither of them knew how much might change and if Buffy would recognize it in time. He knew if he took William to Buffy now, he'd want to curl up with her and stay. Which, in general, was fine by them all. But as things stood, none of them knew what would happen next.

"Think it's best if we leave her be, Will," Spike answered, scooting the boy closer. "You want a nap, don't you?"

William nodded, yawning. Emma looked at her father for a minute, and then the little boy. "Daddy, he can lay down with me. Can we watch cartoons for a while?"

She was good. Little give. Little take. Smart little bird. "Yes," Spike answered. "Stretch out in the living room, but keep the sound low, all right? "

"Can we have cookies?" Emma asked, knowing full well she was pushing it further. Spike shook his head. He was conquered.

"Yes," he sighed, planting a kiss on her nose and settling Emma to the floor. "Now, go lay down before I change my mind and I'll bring you a snack."

Emma grinned. She'd learned from the master. Her mum knew how to get what she wanted. Now Emma was almost in her league. "Thanks, daddy."

"Go, you sneaky little tot," Spike joked, settling Will down next to her. "And I'll take you to your mum later, all right?"

Emma nodded. "She is okay, right?"

It took Spike a second to answer. Not really, he thought, but even as mature as Emma had become, she was still five. She didn't need to know that her mum wasn't just sick with the flu. "She'll be fine in no time, Mite. Now go lay down."

The little girl smiled, taking her brother's hand, and headed off to the living room.

To be contd.

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