Title: Daytime TV (Chapter Twenty 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 .

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 discuss the success of their plan. Anya eavesdrops in hell. Buffy and Spike deal with the ramifications of her inability to control the beast.

Daytime TV
"Well, what's she doing?" Luke asked, nearly hopping around the floor in anticipation. Draconius held the monitor in his outstretched hands. Interdimensional travel and a life of evil had made him far sighted.

"She seems to be looking in on a trivial lot of hangers-on," the oldest Earth evil responded, watching the monitor picture move as the pawn wagged her head to and fro, surveying the scene.

Luke scooted over next to Draconius, his eyes surveying the monitor. "What is that? Some sort of day care center for hell spawn?"

"It is their home, you dimwit," Draconius responded, stepping away so that the monitor was out of Luke's reach. Luke responded by moving a step himself and pressing against the old one's shoulder. Which made Drac uncomfortable.

"How many kids do they *have*?" Luke asked, crinkling his nose as if the sight disgusted him. "And they're all close to the same age except the big blonde one. I didn't know humans had *litters*."

Draconius shook his head, a long sigh escaping his lips. Anger would do *nothing* to make his stay in the god-forsaken dimension any easier. And it looked like he'd be here a while. The little girl had lots of growing to do before her virtue could be voluntarily unbound. "They are not all *hers* you moron."

"Oh," Luke chirped, squinting at the screen. "Well, then why are they there?"

Draconius snapped the monitor back into the base and spun to look at the hell god. "Did you learn nothing about the dimension adjacent to your own in all your years of. ruling?"

"Never bothered," Luke answered, straightening his blood red tie and flopping foppishly into a red velvet chair. "I mean, other than what made it here, what's there to know?"

"The Slayer? The Vampire of Heart? The One? The Peacemaker?" Draconius ticked off, pacing in front of the fireplace.

Luke looked confused. "Less I'm not following something, Champ, they're *there*, I'm here, and they can't come here unless they die. Well, except for the Vampire. What with the demon and all. Hey, I wonder if the Slayer could come now too since you screwed up their little One mojo.."

Draconius snorted in disgust. "The Slayer. The One is a concern to *all* dimensions. The greatest worry, that is until we let it get far enough that she actually produced that nightmare of a child. Now, the Peacemaker is out to rid evil from the dimensions. *That*, my insolent friend, would have a great effect on you."

"Oh," Luke repeated, this time, his voice soft. "So, you think the Peacemaker is coming here?"

Draconius pulled a chair angrily in front of Luke and sat down, leaning forward until his face was mere inches from the resident hell god. "Let me ask you something, Lucifer?"

Luke looked frightened. "Uh. yeah?"

"Why, exactly, do you think we're going through all this? Why do you think we sold a large quantity of power to a corrupt heavenly minion to borrow the only creature of heaven that might possibly be immune to the instant kill reaction of said Slayer and said Vampire? And why do you think we spend our days watching a monitor to see what the zombified, temporarily soulless remains of said creature will do to enable our bidding? And why do we care? What is the point?"

Luke shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Thems a lot of questions, parner."

Draconius smirked. "I will tell you why, then. But I will only explain this *once* more." With lightning speed, the Old One grabbed Luke's wrists, pulling him forward until their lips almost touched. "We need the Peacemaker. We need her alive. Only because I will revel in her torture and death. We cannot have a demon do our bidding because the One would simply kill a creature of hell without afterthought. We sent the woman who was once integral to the Slayer's life to enact our spell so that she could slip around unnoticed, spreading our. gift of enlightenment. to the Vampire and the Slayer."

"Why are we giving them gifts again?" Luke asked, his nose again wrinkled in confusion.

"Listen, you numbskull!" Draconius shouted, slapping the side of Luke's head with an open palm. "It is not a gift to them at all. We crossed their channels. Disrupted what it is that makes them the One. Let his essence creep into her and hers into him until their roles are confused."

Luke tilted his head. "I don't get it, though. The Vampire wasn't really all that evil *before* he got all jiggy with the Blondie."

"He also had over a hundred years to learn to control the demon. She does not. She will feel as he did when he first rose. All bloodlust and death. He will try and save her. They will leave the paltry excuse for a gang in charge of the care of their daughter. The woman will be able to walk right under their noses and take her. Bring her back to me." Draconius sat back into his chair, luxuriating in the plan. One that was working. Finally. Despite Luke.

Luke crossed one ankle over one knee and sat back. "Is there any way they can stop this? I mean, anything cutie pie and her little blondie bear can do to make the reversal stop?"

Draconius nodded. "It will wear off on its own once the pawn is removed. Back to their normal, happy existence. Oh, except missing their precious daughter. That might take out a little happy."

Luke grinned in response. "How bout anything else? I mean, the Slayer has been alive longer than the others because she has back up. Which, I'm guessing, is where the Next Generation Child Care center comes into it."

The Old One sighed. "They could. They could break the spell earlier. But only if they discover our pawn. If they break the amulet, the essences will return to balance."

"*That's* not good," Luke sighed. "What's stopping them from doing that?"

Draconius smiled. "As obvious as it seems, and as simple, it has one major drawback, hence my choice of pawn."

A grin broke on the hell god's face. "Yeah? What's that?"

"If they break the amulet, the woman dies. If she dies before the Heavenly ones have reclaimed her soul, which could be weeks with all the red tape, then she belongs to us. If they learn the information on how to deactivate the spell in the Horasci texts, they will surely also know that breaking the amulet will return the automaton to her last known dimension of residence. Permanently."

"And in the case of our poor old girl, that's here," Luke smiled, victoriously. "I liked her too. She's hot."

~~~~~
Anya crept through the halls of the mansion, absolutely certain now that she was fully invisible. She'd past several mirrors and many minions, none of which showed any indication that she was naked and trespassing. This was good, she came to realize. Luke had never been fascinated by politeness. A naked demon on which he had a centuries old crush would be a little too tempting for this particular hell god. Anya contemplated finding clothes, but figured that a cloak passing through hallways with no body attached might draw more attention that her current state of nude invisibility.

The voices in her head had cut off as soon as she entered the mansion. Willow had been helpful in guiding her there. She had remembered some landmarks from her trip. But the place had some sort of psychic scrambler and as soon as Anya had walked through the door, the voices shut off like a radio that had lost power. She was missing the chatter now. Missing the familiar sounds of the lovers and the brat kid sis, and even Xander's wife. She kinda liked Takina. Not that she'd ever admit that out loud.

New voices caught her attention. She was on the top floor of the mansion now, and huge red doors stretched out at the end of the hall. Luke's room. She'd been there once after a kegger and had only escaped the romantic clutches of the hell god because D'Hoffryn had called her for an emergency evisceration. No champagne glass hot tubs full of bubbly blood for her that night. Such a shame.

Anya crept closer, pressing her ear to the door. There was another voice. One she knew but she didn't. The part of her that was demon, that was still infected by that which made her able to do evil, recognized the sound. It was Draconius. The Old One. And Luke. He sounded like most incredibly handsome and well dressed men. Dumb.

She slid on invisible knees to the floor and put her eye up to the keyhole, confirming her suspicions. The Old One held some sort of small TV monitor up before him, and Luke gazed over his shoulder. They were talking. A lot. About important things. It was times like this Anya wished she'd asked for some invisible paraphernalia to go on the trip with her. Like an invisible miracle ear. Or invisible x-ray vision, or at least an invisible pad and paper. But alas, she was on her own. Anya closed her eyes and listened, trying to remember every word spoken as if her life depended on it.

In a way, it did. All of their lives did.

~~~~~

Spike walked, his arm tucked around her. They were dressed now, but the blanket was still wrapped around her as if she was warding off the cold. She was, really. Just not the cold of the night air. The chill within.

Buffy was silent, clinging against him, battling with what was inside of her. The violent, yet incredibly pleasant encounter with Spike had brought her back. Beaten it down. But she could feel it was only temporary. The beast under her skin was merely waiting for the next chance to bubble and make her do things that she couldn't ever fathom doing.

Make her. This thing lived inside Spike every day and it never made him do anything. She was weak.

"I've had a century and a bit to learn to control it," Spike said, audibly answering what he'd learned in her mind.

"So, you used to be this. pathetic?" Buffy asked, her arms wrapped around his waist, not wanting to pull away from his warmth. His love.

"Not pathetic, Love. That's what the Vampire does. The demon inside. Wants blood. Wants violence. Wants pleasure and pain and not a whole bloody hell of a lot else," Spike answered, snuggling her deeper into his jacket.

"You did," Buffy commented quietly.

"Did what, Pet?"

"Wanted more. Even before we." Her words trailed off as she walked down the sidewalk, avoiding the haze of the street lights. She was afraid it might illuminate her for what she was becoming.

Spike sighed, cradling her to him. "*I* did, Pet. Not it."

Her eyes flickered up to his, blinking curiously. "I thought you were it."

He shook his head. "No. S'not like that. I mean, I guess it is for some. There isn't much there when they start, so the demon is all they have. But I. I wanted things when I was alive. And when the demon took me, I still wanted them. Just took me a while to remember is all."

"You couldn't have wanted *me* back then," she commented, pleased by the distraction.

"You were exactly what I wanted," Spike corrected, his strides shortened to match hers. Her hip brushed against his. "Just didn't have a name yet. Demon wanted to take that away. I wouldn't let it."

"Not sure I get it," Buffy asked, her eyes trained up to his now. She wanted to know. He didn't talk much about when he was alive. before.

Spike sighed. He didn't like to talk about William. Well, his first go round. Wanker. Pansy. Not strong enough to stand up to the gits in his social circle. Not man enough to protect his mum and sis. Not smart enough to make it as a scholar. Not strong enough to make it as a labourer. But he had one thing. One thing more than anyone else.

"Love," Spike finally sighed. "I wanted love. To give it. To receive it. To be one with it. To roll in it like a sodding maxi pad ad. I wanted puppies and kittens and hearts exploding with joy and rapture and sod all else. Demon put that lot in perspective, it did. No more strolling down the beach on a sunny afternoon with the wind in my love's hair. Least not for a century or so. No more brilliant innocence. But I still wanted love."

Buffy was silent for a long moment, and then she giggled. "Maxi pad ads?"

Spike snorted. "Living in a house full of birds and watching enough Passions will do that to a man. Forcing us to watch all those girlie commercials. Think the world might revolve around feminine hygiene, nappies and Dr Phil if you watch the telly tween the hours of noon and four."

"Maxi pad ad?" Buffy repeated, giggling.

"You know. Walking down the beach in the summer sun and love's abounding, just because your girl has Always with wings?"

To that, Buffy had to guffaw. Tears rolled down her face, her eyes squeezing shut. Her knees gave way and she ended up falling in a heap on the curve, laughter bubbling from her throat, quelling the beast like nothing else he could have said or done.

Knew he could do it. Tame it for her while she couldn't. It had been worth the momentary embarrassment.

Not to mention, to hear her laugh and to have her joy pump in his veins was intoxicating. Beautiful. Perfect.

He hadn't lied about the love thing. Just about the maxi pad ad. Well, kind of.

"You all right, Pet?" Spike chortled, settling on the curb next to her. Her eyes still streamed tears and her giggles were second only to the joyous tremble of her form.

"You're kidding, right?" Buffy sputtered, trying to control her breath enough to speak.

"Bout what, Pet?" Spike answered, wrapping his arm around her vibrating shoulder.

"The William bit?"

"About Love?"

"Yeah," Buffy giggled, through the tears.

Spike sighed. "Alas, that part is the painful truth," he answered. "Love is what taught me to control the demon. The search for it, the practice of it, the feeling. That's what it was about for me."

She looked at him, her giggles stopping, her eyes wet and happy. "Really?"

He nodded, his head tilting. "How I made it to you."

A small smile broke on her face. "So, all those years of overcoming this *thing* that wanted to control you was because you wanted to love someone?"

"And be loved," Spike answered, his eyes dropping to his knees. He hadn't planned on an encounter session, but if it bought him a few more minutes with his girl, he'd embarrass himself publicly for a millennia.

Slowly, Buffy toppled to the side, leaning her head into his shoulder. "You find it yet?"

Spike kissed the crown of her head, pulling her in tighter. " That I did, Love. Not letting it go, either."

"Good," Buffy sighed.

"We should head back. See if the rest of the lot has found anything else, all right?"

"Yeah," Buffy answered, pushing herself up and extending a hand back down to him. He took hers gently, feeling her touch. Her warmth. Terrified that it would go away. He clung to it, savouring it like any touch of hers might be the last. For a moment, her eyes locked in his. Buffy's eyes.

Love can defeat it. He could hear it echoing in her head.

Believe.

Finally he stood, wrapping an arm around her and beginning back to the house. "Oh, one thing," Buffy giggled.

"What's that, Love?"

"You are henceforth banned from daytime TV. Dawn will have to tape Passions for you without commercials."

Spike smiled. "Just when I was getting fond of that bloke Dr Phil."

To be contd.-

Title: My Sister's Keeper. (Chapter Twenty-One 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 .

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: Anya returns from La Maison Rouge and tells the others what she found. Spike and Buffy return from patrol, but Buffy has changed. What she does next scares both her lover and her watcher.
My Sister's Keeper
Anya came back to the fold in a rush of air and a small gasp. The look in her eyes was wild and somehow satisfied, as if she had seen a ghost, but one that had done her some good.

"So.how'd it go?" Willow asked from her position lying back on her elbows on the floor. Bringing her back through to exactly the same spot had proven a little more energy consuming than the Witch would have liked. But the feeling of success overpowered her fatigue.

Anya sighed. "Giles is going to want to know."

"Know...know what?" Tara asked, steadying Willow and bringing her back to sitting position.

"Did you find the answer to what's going on with Buffy?" Dawn asked, still holding her wrist in her hand. It wasn't really bleeding anymore. Just a thin crimson line on her forearm that would heal without a scar. Still, she hadn't been able to leave the circle once the spell started to tend to it.

Anya sighed again. "The point *is*, if I have to tell this whole boring story, why don't we go up there and talk? That way I only have to tell it once and I can take my man and go home."

"Right," Takina sighed, shrugging. 'Well, it does make some sense."

"We should patch up your arm too, Dawnie," Willow commented, pushing herself up on her knees and then to the balls of her feet. "Before Spike decides to pummel us into oblivion for injuring his precious Niblet." Willow batted her eyes with the blatant poking of fun at the Vampire. Dawn just smirked.

"Can we go?" Anya asked.

"Sure," Tara answered, smiling slyly. "But you might want to put some clothes on first."

~~~~~
Giles sat still watching his beloved cradle their baby in her arms. It made the corners of his mouth twitch with amusement that she could be so blunt and seemingly so cold while holding her flesh and blood with such incredible tenderness. Anya was a world of dichotomies. A blessed union of polar opposites that kept him on his toes and made him sigh with relief and joy.

"So, anyway, it's them and they're up to no good," the demon concluded, shifting Randy in her lap and leaning back against the couch. "Can we go home now, Rupie?"

Giles sighed, watching the others watch him. They always looked to him for answers. Sometimes, he wished they didn't. But they always would. "Alas, dear, we still have work to do. We need to be certain that what you saw was not some sort of ruse."

"How could it be a ruse, Rupert?" Anya snapped indignantly. "I was naked and invisible and they couldn't know I was there because the spell protected me from disturbing their dimensional walls. Who would they think they were fooling?"

"You were naked?" Xander asked, fixating on what his brain could metabolize at four AM.

Takina elbowed him, huffing softly. She knew better than to be truly jealous. Xander was her one. Loyal and faithful and loving. But she had to put on a show, none the less. He winced and smiled over at her. "Well, she said it."

"Not to you," Takina corrected, returning the smile. "Where's River?"

"Where else?" Xander sighed, letting his eyes roll towards the ceiling.

Takina had to chuckle. "You broke down and put her to bed with Will?"

"Can I tell you that I *hate* that that Vampire's little blonde replica has got his fangs in our girl already?" Xander huffed crossing his arms. Takina glared at him with amusement. He softened. He always did. "But Oz was taking Emma and Will up to their beds and River just looked at me with these huge brown eyes that look like yours and they were all wet and."

"Face it, man, you're whipped by a two year old," Oz commented, smiling up from the floor at Xander.

Xander sighed deeply. "Yeah, yeah."

"Back to the point," Giles commented, pulling off his glasses and wiping his tired eyes. "Anya, you are sure it was Draconius there with Luke?"

Anya shot him a glare that warned him never to question her again. It made him shudder. "Yes," she hissed. "Heard him, saw him. Told the story."

"I am just being sure that we do nothing wrong. This is the strength of the One, and possibly the life of the Peacemaker at stake. Emma's life," Giles stressed, knowing that Anya would melt at the thought of the little girl in danger.

She did.

"All right," Anya conceded. "But yes, I am sure it was him."

"And you say he had a TV?" Oz asked, his brow quirked in an expression of amusement.

"It was a monitor. Like one of those Watchmen or PDA's that you see in pop up ads. You know." Anya replied, gesturing the general size of the equipment, while still holding Randy to her chest. "But I couldn't see what he was watching. From their conversation, they have something rigged up to watch their pawn."

"Their pawn?" Dawn asked, still holding her wrist. The first aid supplies sat in front of her, but she didn't seem to be in a hurry to clean up the wound. It didn't really hurt. And the air felt good.

"The person or object that they use to enact their will in this dimension," Willow explained, sitting down on the floor next to Oz. Tara sat casually on the other side, passing out sodas to those who wanted a pick me up.

Dawn nodded. "But you couldn't see the pawn?"

"No," Anya answered, ruefully. "But it was close. They were describing people here."

"How?" Takina asked.

Anya shrugged. "Seemed like it'd been here at some point."

Giles nodded. "Well, then we need to be sure to have someone on watch at all times. Willow, could you formulate a spell."

"Like a magical burglar alarm?" She chirped, smiling. "Sure, but you'll have to give me a few hours of shut eye first. I'm wiped from all that anchorage."

"Of course," Giles answered, nodding. "It may be best if you two stay here," he commented, looking at the girls. "With Draconius in the mix, some magical protection may be best."

"Sure," Tara whispered, smiling.

"I can stay too," Oz contributed. "You know.wolf. Keen sense of smell?"

"Right," Giles agreed nodding. "But I suggest that Xander, you take your family home. You as well, Anya. I will join you shortly, after I've talked to Spike and Buffy. Cyrus, would you like to stay with us a few days?"

The other Watcher was confused as to why Giles would ask, but the look on Giles' face said not to argue. Cyrus nodded his agreement. "Anya, is there anything else about the spell?"

"Just that it will cross their beings. You know, make Buffy take on Vampire characteristics, and Spike, Slayer. Oh, and that the spell will break automatically when the pawn returns to Draconius with Emma and Buffy and Spike will return to normal."

"But without their daughter," Takina said very quietly. "Nothing will be normal then."

Xander nodded. "Isn't there any other way to break the spell?"

Anya thought for a moment and then a light bulb went over her head. "Break the amulet."

"What amulet, dear?" Giles asked, leaning forward, his elbows to his knees.

Anya fidgeted, her hands fluttering before her. "The pawn wears an amulet. If it's broken, then the spell is broken. Something about the Hibachi Texts or something. "

"Horasci," Giles corrected, losing himself in thought. "Of course."

"That sounds easy enough," Willow commented, trying to smile. "I.I mean, the pawn person is nearby if it could describe us. We watch out for it, find it, break the amulet and voila, normal non fangy Buffy and . well, Spike."

"Sounds like a plan," Oz agreed, stretching out, one arm tentatively going around each of the girls. Tara smiled at the gesture. Willow squirmed.

"Except," Anya continued, squinching her nose. "Something about the soul of the pawn then belonging to Luke and Draconius and for some reason, we wouldn't want that. Or Buffy and Spike."

"Why?" Dawn asked, shifting her legs underneath of her on the couch.

"I dunno," Anya answered, honestly. "The pawn was apparently stolen, or bribed, or something, from heaven. So, only thing I could guess is that Buffy's morality gear wouldn't want to damn a heavenly creature to Luke's dimension."

Giles rubbed his chin with one hand, lost in thought. "Or.or it's someone that means something to one or both of them."

The door swung open unceremoniously and Buffy blinked at the bright light in the house. "Hey?" She muttered, standing still in the doorway, blanket still wrapped around her like a refugee or a wayward child.

Willow quirked a brow. "You okay?"

Buffy looked up at Spike who had moved protectively behind her, his hands on both of her arms. "Yeah. Just tired. And kinda hungry."

"We got all sorts of info tonight on the baddies," Willow chirped, smiling at the pair of them.

"Love a fill in, Red, but I think the Slayer needs some shut eye," Spike commented, the hairs on the back of his neck on end. He could feel the beast swirling underneath of her skin like a snake, waiting to strike.

"I can sit for a minute," Buffy answered, craning her head around to look at those beautiful blue eyes.

Spike watched her closely, blue battling green. It wasn't a good idea, but he knew that she didn't want her friends to look upon her as the enemy. To be more worried than they were. "Right then. I'll go check on the tots and then fix you something to eat. Promise then you'll go up for a rest?"

Buffy smiled, pushing herself on tip toes and letting her lips brush his. "Promise."

"Right," Spike commented, pushing himself away from her. "Take it easy. Had a rough night," he whispered, letting his lips graze her ear. She nodded, her silky hair tickling his nose. He pulled further from her, watching her all the while and then turned to go up the stairs.

~~~~~

Buffy yawned, listening to the tale of Anya's naked hijinx in hell. It actually wasn't a bad story, but the sun was coming and it was making her sleepy. Like some god-awful alarm clock. Spike had come back down the stairs and was rattling around the kitchen when he felt something about her, about them, change.

Slowly, Spike crept to the edge of the doorway and looked out into the living room without any of the occupants noticing. Buffy had moved up on the couch, curled in a ball next to Dawn. She was sniffing almost involuntarily. Scenting the air. Spike's eyes scanned the room, his sense of smell gone with his demon. He eyed a pile of slightly bloodied gauze pads on the table in front of Dawn and scanned up from there. Dawn had a long slice down the inside of her arm, air-drying and still red with blood.

Buffy's blood, from what history told them.

Slayer blood.

Buffy was craning closer to her sister without even noticing and it was all Spike could do to get into the room in time without creating a scene. He could feel it in Buffy's head, boiling in her veins. She wanted a taste. She wanted to drink the blood, lick the wounds. The demon inside of her was drawing her to the cut in her sister's arm and Buffy didn't even know what was happening.

"All right, Love," Spike answered, holding onto a mug and looking down at Buffy. She jerked to attention as if startled from a dream. Spike held out his hand.

"I'm okay, really," Buffy commented, still grabbing his hand and letting him pull her up.

"Know that, Pet," Spike answered, wrapping an arm around her. "But you need your strength to fight this off, right? Need to rest."

Giles furrowed his brow, watching Spike nervously tend to his mate. Something was wrong. The Watcher's eyes scanned the couch where Buffy had been, his mind racing in his head. Then he saw it.

Blood.

Buffy was to the point of wanting human blood. Or Spike's demon was. He was strong enough to control it. She was not.

"I agree, Buffy. The more rest you get, the better. You'll need your strength," Giles commented. Spike sighed, his shoulder's dropping in relief. "Dawn?" The Watcher continued, "Why don't you stay downstairs will the rest of them. I am sure that they could use a bit of help with guard duty and the spell. "

Dawn smiled at the thought of being useful. "Sure. It'll be like a slumber party."

Giles shifted his gaze to Spike. 'How is everything.upstairs?"

It took Spike a moment to process what Rupert was asking. "I think they're fine. Harris might want to take his tot home with him, much as that will break little Will's heart, but the sun's almost up. No need to disturb the other two."

"All right," Giles answered, nodding.

Buffy yawned, sniffing the air again. "I'm so tired."

"I know," Spike whispered into her hair. "Let's get you something to eat and put you to bed."

Willow's face was wracked with concern. "Is.is everything okay?"

Spike looked at her for a moment, his eyes pleading with her not to make him talk about this with Buffy around. She got the message, nodding. "Need anything?"

"Just some rest, Red," Spike answered, leading Buffy towards the stairs. "Check in on the tots in the morning?"

"Sure," Tara answered, smiling. "Sleep in."

Spike looked down at his pretty little Slayer, her eyes flickering from green to yellow beside him. His stomach rolled, knowing that she had to eat soon. Knowing that he'd have to help her. Have to explain it all. Everything that happened. "Might do that."

"Call me in the morning, if you need anything," Giles commented standing up. Spike was already leading Buffy up the stairs, mug in his left hand, and Buffy's hand in his right.

Spike simply nodded, disappearing up the stairs.

To be contd.

Title: The End of the Innocence (Chapter Twenty-Two of The One)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG -13/R (violence and adult content)

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 .

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 tries to quell the rising beast within Buffy, but she can no longer fight it. One act, one sacrifice, may save her. May bring her back from the edge. But will it be enough and will it be in time? *Heavy Angst Warning*

The End of the Innocence

Spike led her carefully into their room, feeling the beast just below the surface. He'd forgotten what it felt like that close to skin. That nauseating, swirling feeling right before it takes control. It had taken years, but he had driven it so deep inside that it only came when he let it. Only swirled to the surface when he fought or when he rutted with his mate. And even then, only when he called on it.

Her eyes were large and lost, fighting it with the goodness inherent in her. Inherent in him. He could feel that light now. Feel it burning him from the inside, spreading through his veins like white fire. Now he understood. Now he knew why it had taken her so long to accept him. Accept her feelings for him. It was against the light. That burning, consuming flame in her veins was in direct opposition to that cold creature that swirled in his. He felt that now. She had learned to temper the light as he had tempered the beast. Allowing them to become One. He had to learn how she did it. He had to teach her how to do it for herself.

"S'alright, Pet. Not leaving you. We'll manage," Spike whispered, gently removing the blanket from her shoulders. "Want a bath before you go to sleep?"

She nodded, hoping it would calm her. Calm *it*. That thing that wanted to take her over. "What...what's in the mug?"

Spike sighed, leading her towards the bathroom. Slowly, he turned on the tap, adding her favourite vanilla bubble bath. It was like a nightly ritual. It settled them both. "Blood, Pet."

She squinched her nose. "I thought you didn't want blood."

He sighed again, not wanting to do this. To explain it. "I don't," he answered crisply. "Had a peanut butter sandwich before I rescued you from the living room."

The sound of peanut butter made her stomach growl and flip at the same time. She was hungry, but not for that. Change the subject, she thought as she began to slowly undress. "Rescue me from what?"

His eyes flickered in the dim light and he lit a candle on the counter. Spike wasn't used to not having perfect night vision. Not with a clear night and crystal moonlight peeking in the window. "Yourself, Love," Spike answered softly.

Buffy blinked. "What.what did I do?"

"Nothing, Pet," he soothed, taking over for her trembling hands and finishing unfastening the buttons on her shirt. "But you were about to."

He could see her eyes glisten with unshed tears in the candle light as he slid the shirt from her shoulders. "What? What was I about to do?"

Spike closed his eyes and breathed. Had to be honest. She had to know how important it was to control it. "Your sis."

"What about Dawn?" Buffy snapped defensively, grabbing his wrist as his hands came away with her tattered bra. Guess he had still had a little demon of his own during their tryst in the crypt.

"Buffy," Spike breathed, working her jeans down her legs. "She had a wound on her arm. Opening a portal for Anya, I'd wager. I'll talk to Red about that tomorrow. You were scenting her."

Buffy blinked, her eyes growing impossibly larger and more afraid. "I was what?"

"Scenting her," Spike explained, turning around and turning off the water. He helped her to the edge of the tub and held her steady as she climbed in. "Looking for a meal."

She looked at him from the deep pool of bubbles, blinking, her heart racing in her chest. "I wanted to. eat my sister?"

Spike had to chuckle, if for no other reason than to release the tension. "No, Pet. But you were attracted to the blood. Craved it. Unfortunately, need it," he continued, lifting the mug back up. "You have to drink it, Pet. "

Her head wagged side to side, the tears being forced out by movement alone. "No, Spike. I. I can't drink blood. I.I won't."

"You have to, Love," Spike whispered, kneeling by the tub. "If you don't, the demon will keep searching for its next meal. I don't fancy it either. Not especially around the lot of you. Knowing you think it makes me less. less of a man." His face was solemn, his own fear just behind his eyes, making them glitter in the pale candle light. He knew that he'd always be seen as different, if not by her than by the rest. Even the other demons that inhabited their circle of friends. He was the only obvious one. The only one that had to consume the essence of life to survive.

Buffy's heart grew heavy in her chest. Understanding *him*. Understanding. "Spike, I don't."

"There was a time when you did," Spike answered, his own eyes filling. He had to be strong. Don't let her down. Don't let her see your weaknesses. Not now. "But I understand, with your blood in my veins, your light, Pet, why. Why you saw it that way."

She looked at his blue eyes swimming up from pooled tears. "You think I'm a monster because of my own blood? My. Slayer?"

Spike shook his head as vehemently as he could with bruises aching at the base of his skull. "No, Love. You're not a monster. But I can see why you thought I was."

"You're not, baby," Buffy whispered, her damp hand brushing his cheek with unending tenderness. He held her hand there a moment, closing his eyes, feeling her. Clinging to her.

"Neither are you, Pet," Spike whispered, lifting the mug to her. "Please," he said, nodding at the contents.

She hesitated a moment, taking the still warm mug from his hands. "I don't know if I can."

Spike nodded, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll leave you alone, Pet. Don't have to do it in front of me. Don't have to let anyone see it. Just have to do it."

Buffy jumped in the tub, fear clenching around her heart like a vice. "Spike, don't go. Please don't leave me. I feel. I feel like I can't.I can't control it when you're not here. I can barely when you are."

Her voice was shaky. Desperate. Her hand shot out to grab his, dropping the mug to the floor, letting it shatter against the tile in a spray of crimson. His eyes shot to her, feeling the beast rising inside of her. Rising. Taking her light. "Pet, no," Spike whispered, pulling off his t- shirt, the tears beginning to drizzle down his cheeks in silver trails. "Please, fight it."

Her body shook and her eyes closed, hands clenching at the sides of the tub. She was breathing slowly, trying to push it down. She was losing. He was losing her. Spike slid out of his jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor with her clothes and shoes, and climbed in with her. If he could hold her, bind her, do *something* to keep her anchored to him, maybe she wouldn't fade away. Spike knew she could fight any Vampire, any one on the planet, and win. But this one was inside of her. Buffy was lost as to how to fight. How to win. How to survive.

"Buffy?" Spike asked, facing her in the tub, his knees bent, his feet on either side of her hips. She just sat still, eyes shut, breathing. He took her chin in his hand, pulling her closer so her legs slid on top of his. "Buffy, Love?"

Her eyes flickered open and they were golden, glowing back at him like a wild animal, her own green fighting to swim to the surface. She was losing. "Spike?" Buffy whimpered. Her voice. It was her voice with the monster's eyes. It shattered his soul. Their soul.

Her nose twitched in the air.

The blood.

She smelled the blood on the floor. It was bringing the demon out of her. Making her insane for food. For that which kept her, kept them, alive.

"It's all right, Love," Spike whispered, pulling her closer. Human tears dripped from her inhuman eyes and his heart broke, watching her change. Watching her fight. Watching her lose. They never lost. Never. But now.

"I don't know what to do," Buffy sobbed, wrapping her hands around his neck tenderly. Her body was still hers, but it was taking her over, inch by inch. Had to drive it down. Had to make it stop.

"Come to me, Pet," Spike said quietly, fighting his own panic and pulling her until she sat butterfly in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, his low around her hips. "Stay with me," he whispered, beginning to rock her, locking them together. Trying to connect them again. Find their balance. She moved against him, her sobs ringing out against the cold tile. He stroked her back as they moved, whispering to her. Trying to calm her. Tethering her to him.

"Spike," she breathed, her wet cheek pressed to his. "Spike, I'm so. I can't.."

"It's all right," he reassured, bringing her face back to his, still rocking her. He stared in her eyes. "You have to drive it down. Have to satisfy it for now."

Her voice trembled, her thighs clenching around his waist. The bath water swayed gently with them, splashing onto the floor. "How?"

His eyes caught hers in a gentle stare and softened, willing her to come back. Willing her emerald eyes to stare back at him in their intimate embrace. But only the beast stared back. "You need to eat."

"I spilled it," she stuttered, her voice all panic and fear. "I spilled the blood."

He cradled her cheeks in his palms, searching her pretty face, not sure she'd ever recover from this even if he did get her back, but he had to try. Had to push it back. Her light. Her blood. It was in him. Maybe if he could give it back. Share it. Maybe he could save her from this horror. "Love," he breathed, drawing her face to the curve of his neck as a mother brings a newborn to her breast.

Her head darted up, staring at him with wild and incredulous eyes. "Spike, I."

"Pet," he whispered, kissing her damp cheeks. He could kiss her face all day and never get all of her tears. "You have to. Drink."

"I. I can't," Buffy whispered, her face contorted in disgust and terror, tears streaming down in icy rivers.

"You must, love," Spike answered. "You have to satisfy it until you learn to control it or until we switch it back. You need to take back some of yourself. You don't, you put them in danger," he whispered, nodding at the door. "You don't satisfy your hunger, how can you know who you will be drawn to next? Your sis again? Emma? Will?"

Her eyes grew wider with horror and her body shook on top of his. "Spike," she whispered desperately, "I can't."

"Shh, Pet," he comforted, drawing her chest flush with his, letting her cool, wet cheek rub against his. "Shh."

He kissed a trail down her cheek, her jaw, her neck, finding the big pulse just below the skin. Slowly, he bit down on her with blunt, human teeth, letting his jaw work as if he were drinking her, feeding.

Her body followed suit. Spike could feel her tears strike his skin just before her lips, both soft and cold and trembling. He held her back, stroked her, forgave her before she found the pulse. Hoped she would forgive herself.

The feel of her mouth clamping down on him made him want to yell for mercy. She hadn't formed true fangs, so it wasn't a neat puncture. She literally ripped, tore, the skin away with her teeth, opening his neck to the air and her mouth. Spike did everything he could to quell the rising scream as he suckled her neck, trying to ease her mind. Prove that she was no different than him. But her mouth tore at him, her body rocking at a frantic pace on his, drinking him, taking him, using him.

Tears slid down his face, tumbling down her back like silver rivers. It wasn't the pain. It was the fear. The fear he'd never have her back. Not now. Still, he loved her. Still, he wanted her with every fiber of his being. Even as the beast took his blood and his body as if they were nothing but a possession. It wasn't her. It wasn't Buffy tearing his throat out and taking his body. It was him. It was his own demon. It was everything that he'd hated and the only part of him that made her truly, deathly afraid.

And now it was in her.

The light slid away from him like a cool, black satin curtain being tossed over his fire. The satin brushed his face and the feeling of her squeezed around his body moving furiously, the feeling of his own blood pumping out of his veins in the same frantic rhythm, moved away. Spike slid under the dark curtain, whispering while he still could.

"Buffy." His voice seemed choked and foreign, as if it hadn't even come from him. "Buffy, you have to stop. Love," he whispered.

And he slid underneath the veil of darkness.

To be contd...

Title: Firelight (Chapter Twenty-Three 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 .

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 and Buffy deal with the immediate aftermath of his last ditch effort to save her from the demon. But, in his efforts, did he lose himself? Can Buffy come back to him in time?

Firelight
A red veil, satiny and smooth washed over her. Covering her. Melting into her. She could feel the fire start in her veins again. The warmth. Her glow. Like coming home. It bubbled into her, soothing her, making her feel like.her again. She was warm. So warm. So safe in his arms. Wrapped in his warmth. It was coming back. Her light. It was coming home.

"Buffy." So distant, it almost wasn't even a word. Barely even a breath.

"You have to stop."

But it was so beautiful, this warmth. This blessed reunion with herself in his arms. The veil slid over her eyes, down her throat. Her life.

Coursing down her throat.

"Buffy."

This time it was a choked whisper in her ear.

The veil lifted slowly, sliding across her skin, slowing its furious pace down her throat. Her eyes flickered open and she swallowed, watching the candle flame, her head resting on his shoulder. He had done it. Driven the beast back. Given her back herself. How? How did he know?

It was warm euphoria. Lying in the cooling bath water, one with her lover, the candle filling the room with a hazy glow. She felt herself. Strong. Controlled. "Spike?" She smiled and stretched her arms behind him in feline femininity. "Spike?"

But he was still beneath her.

Her face felt tight and warmer than the water. She lifted her hand, still wrapped around him and touched her face, bringing her fingers up into the light.

Blood.

"Oh God," she whispered to the air. "Spike?"

It took all her strength to pull herself back from where they had fallen, reclined against the back of the tub. She pushed herself up on outstretched arms, her own light in control of the beast for a moment. Her heart raced, blood, her blood, Slayer blood, pumping through her veins like white fire.

"It's always the blood, Pet." She heard his voice echo through her mind.

Buffy pulled herself back and opened her eyes, still sitting astride his thighs. He was there. With her. His face porcelain and perfect, dark lashes closed against alabaster skin. Her eyes scanned down and saw it.

Bright, bright red sliding slowly down his shoulder. Carving a river down his chest and dripping one heavy drop at a time into the water. She followed the trail back up in stunned silence, her hand clapping over her mouth to quell the rising scream.

His throat was torn open as if a wild animal had taken him. Lying open in the pale moonlight and soft candle glow, spilling the contents of him, of her, into the warm, scented water. Her eyes filled with horror, her newly borne blood with terror as she looked at him so still and torn in front of her. So still. So cold.

"Oh God." This time it came out as a squeak. A terrified, raspy breath escaping. "Oh God, Spike, no."

She pulled her hand from over her mouth and saw the blood coating her fingers. Her eyes grew larger.

She had done this. She had done this. She had done this. She had killed him.

"No." Her tears spilled as her trembling hand rose to the untouched side of his neck, pressing her fingers into the smooth white skin. "No."

A faint pulse against her fingers. Faint. Faint. Slow.

"Oh God."

Frantically, she grabbed the washcloth, sponging off the hole in his neck, looking at the bite marks, trying to make it stop. Make it stop. Don't bleed. Don't die.

Her other hand splashed water over her face. Her chest, trying to take the blood away. Trying to make it go away.

"Spike, no. Why? Why? Why did.how.why did you let me.no." A tumble of words and she pressed the cloth to his neck, trying to splash all the blood away and then realizing the tub was full of blood stained bubbles.

Buffy stood, pulling the plug out with one hand and holding the cloth to his neck with the other. He was so still. Still alive. Still alive. Have to fix him. Have to fix this. Have to. Oh God.

She climbed out and slid, her ankle banging into the porcelain toilet base, her knee cracking into the floor. Blood. More blood on the floor. And broken pottery. Oh God. More blood. She turned her head and threw up. More red filled the bowl of the toilet.

Buffy clapped her mouth shut, swallowing. He had given her back herself. Even if it was only temporary. Damned if she was going to let him die while she gave it to the Sunnydale sewer system.

Slowly, she stood again, clutching the side of the tub and hauled him out onto the bathmat, pressing the blood soaked rag to the side of his neck. "What do I do? Spike, what do I do? How do I help you? What do I do?" Her words were frantic. Panicked as her free hand stroked the hair away from his face.

His hair was stained almost pink from blood.

A retching, gasping, sob shook her as her eyes frantically darted, looking for the answer. Call for help? Get him juice like at the blood drives at school? Cram a cookie down his throat? She chuckled nervously, her heart breaking into a million slivers because he lay there dying and she did it. She killed him. She let him go because she couldn't do what he had been doing all along.

Hold down the beast.

And who was evil?

Blood, she thought. Give it back. Give it back. Her hands searched desperately in drawers trying to find something, anything, to cut herself. A knife, scissors, hell, she'd rip her skin with toenail clippers if she could find them. Where? God, help us. Help me.

She couldn't even scream. There were no words.

There was no one here to help.

"Mother?" A soft, rich voice came from the darkened corner of the bathroom. It was a child's voice. But not as young as any in the house. Buffy stopped, raising her trembling face to the sound, her hand clutching the blood soaked rag on her lover's torn throat.

A soft white glow emanated from the corner of the room. Not a form, really. Not a figure. Just a bathing, warm, whiteness. "Mother?"

"Emma?" Buffy's voice shook like dry leaves in the wind. Foreign and metallic and so alien. Was it her? Was it me?

"The fey," the voice said quietly. "Go."

"What?" Buffy stuttered, her voice panicky and shrill. "Emma?"

"Mother," the calm, sweet voice repeated. Buffy could almost hear her smile. "It will be all right. He can be saved. He is your One. Go to the fey. They are where they always will be."

"Please, Emma. Save him," Buffy pleaded, trying to strain towards the voice without leaving Spike's side. Without losing contact. She was afraid if she stopped touching him, Spike would drift away.

The girl stepped into the candlelight, glowing and ethereal, a sad smile on her lips. "Go to the fairies, mum. I will stay with father." Emma, the Peacemaker, walked towards them, crouching on the floor next to her father. Buffy threw a towel over him nervously, as if it were a habit to always have to make sure he was covered around the kids.

But this wasn't a kid. This was the Ancient One.

Peace.

"Go the fey."

~~~~~

Floating.

It was as if he could see her, but he couldn't. Feel her without touching.

The aching, throbbing, searing pain had stopped and he rested, reclined against the cold, cold porcelain, draped in her warmth. Her scent.

My beautiful, golden goddess, he thought, trying to lift his hands to stroke her soft, soft hips.

But his hands were numb.

He tried to move his fingers. His toes. Anything. Nothing. Numb. Inky black oblivion except for her. That silver and gold vision, that form, moving against him.

He heard her scream into her hand. Retch. Start to sob. No, no Buffy. We won. We won. I don't know for how long, but we won. You are not lost. I gave you some of your light back. It's still in me. There's more. So much more. You have an endless supply of fire, Pet. Of good. Do not cry. There's more.

But the words wouldn't come.

He tried to lift his arms to hold her, to comfort her. It's all right, Love. Nothing to be sorry for. You needed me. You needed me to live. You need to live. You need. You live. My golden goddess.

But he couldn't move.

In out. His breaths were so slow. Were they always this slow? In..... Out.

Thump..thump.thump.thump.. I thought that it was sort of more a jig than a slow moving waltz.

Her whimpers and sobs brought him back into himself and he could feel her press against him. Cold and wet and ah, that feels so cold against my neck, Love. So good. Thank you. So tired, now. Will you hold me? Will you hold me while I drift off?

A thump made him jolt, or at least he thought he had. But he hadn't moved. And her bones cracking. No, baby. No. Don't. It'll be all right. Slow. Slow. Let me help you.

But he couldn't move.

The sound of her retching. Of blood hitting water.

Not after this, you don't. Don't give it back to the Sunnydale Sewer System, Pet.

A wave of empathy crashed over him and he could feel her in his head, panicked and afraid and horrified and full of guilt. Of sorrow. Of fear.

No, Love. I made you do this. I asked you to. You're not a monster. Never a monster. My golden goddess, you are. Always.

Another voice and he was instantly calm. Her voice, but not. Emma's. But not. Smooth and rich and vanilla and calm. Take care of your mum, he thought to himself. Make her right.

Then the hand against his neck was gone, but the warming rag was still against him. The lightest touch in his hair. The warm smell of vanilla. The rich, perfect tone of his daughter's voice.

~~~~~
She ran into the hall and to Emma's room, opening the door as quietly as her panicked hands could manage. Her breaths came in short, ragged spurts, the robe she'd thrown hastily on hanging haphazardly off her shoulders.

It was a blue robe. His.

Emma lay in her bed, but she didn't. The small form of a young girl was there, but Buffy couldn't *feel* her. Like her essence was gone. Just her form. Just a sleeping shell of their baby girl.

A fluttering in the window brought her back from her thoughts.

Three shimmering sentries stood around a vial of sparkling red. Like liquid fire with stars suspended. So small and so bright against the dark of the night. Buffy ran to the sill, cracking open the window to a chorus of muted hums. Soft, gentle, quiet, soothing noises as the little winged beings lifted the vial and put it in her outstretched palm.

"What is it?" Buffy whispered, between awe and terror.

She heard the answer but she didn't. It wasn't a word or a name. Just a soft, gentle, hum. "Firelight."

"Come to me, Pet."

His choked voice in her head made her neck swivel to scan behind her. Only the sleeping form. Buffy's head swung back to the window and all that was left was the vial cradled in her palm. Firelight.

She ran silently on wet, bare feet into the hall and back to the bathroom. He was still lying supine on the floor; glorious in the pale rays of the moon that struck his too white skin. Perfect and marble and deadly and hers. Her predator and her prey. She had preyed on him tonight.

How could he ever forgive her?

How could she forgive herself?

The silvery form of the Peacemaker was almost lost in the moonlight, crouched beside her champion, her hands stroking his marble cheeks. She had bound his neck in gossamer gauze and cleansed the blood from his chest so all that was left was pale perfection against the powder blue bathmat and the silver light of the moon.

"Did you find the answer?" That rich, honeyed voice filled the room and settled over Buffy like a warm blanket on a cold day.

Buffy opened her hand wordlessly, the vial glowing with the light of a thousands stars in her hand. She nodded. "His neck," she choked out.

"He is a Vampire, Mother. He will heal."

"But I . I have.," Buffy sputtered.

The girl smiled, gesturing Buffy to the floor. "Feed him the potion and I will explain."

Again, Buffy nodded, pulling the stopper from the vial with a pop and kneeling by her love's head. He was so still. The tears filled her eyes anew.

Slowly, gently, she lowered the vial to his lips, but they were cold. Pinched closed in his repose. "How?" Buffy muttered, more to herself than to anyone.

The Peacemaker looked at her kindly for a moment, settling Buffy back to peace. How? Baby, please drink, she thought.

"Go to him," the girl said softly. Buffy closed her eyes and searched, holding the vial against his pale, cold lips. Searching into him. Trying to find him. Trying to bring him home.

Door after door clanged open in her mind, swinging into corridor after corridor and she ran through them all, looking for him until she felt so tired. So very tired.

And there he huddled, at the end of the last long hall, back to the wall, naked. Alone. His knees drawn up against his chiseled chest.

Buffy slid to him, skidding on her bruised and battered knees to a halt in front of his feet. "Spike?"

He looked up, blue eyes full of fear and of sorrow. "Don't hate me, Love."

Her eyes grew wide, pooling tears drowning her vision. "No, baby. No. It's me. I."

"I had to save you from it," Spike choked out. "Had to bring you back. Didn't know how."

"Shh," she whispered, her hand stroking his hair softly. "Why? Why did you. Why?"

"Can't lose you to the beast, Love. Not you. Not my golden goddess."

She smiled, pressing her lips softly against his. "I love you, Spike."

"I love you," he answered, his voice as small and shaken as a scared little boy.

"Please forgive me. Forgive me." She broke down, sobbing, her hand covering her mouth as her horror poured out of her in waves. Her grief. Her sadness.

A gentle hand against her cheek brought her back to that crystalline blue gaze. "We do what we have to to keep each other alive, Love," Spike whispered, his thumb tracing her cheek. "I would die for you a thousand times."

Buffy blinked, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I won't let you," she gasped, her shaking hand rising in front of him. "Drink this and come back to me."

Spike looked at the vial and back at her emerald eyes. "What is it, Pet?"

Buffy smiled, raising the vial to his lips. "Firelight."

"Firelight?" He asked, quirking his brow.

"Emma. The fairies."

Spike smiled softly, his palm still pressed to her cheek. "Helpful little buggers, aren't they?"

Buffy returned it. "Please forgive me," she whispered, bringing the vial to his lips. "Please love me."

His hand wrapped around hers, raising the red glow to his lips. "I will love you always, Pet."

She tipped the vial against his lips. "Everyday," she whispered, pressing her lips to his forehead.

Roses and fire and stars surrounded them, enveloped them as she forced the liquid down his throat, bringing him back to life. Flames ignited his heart. Blood boiled and sang in his veins. He pulled her down to him, warming her in the fire around him, in him, until he felt it explode, consuming both of them in tender warmth and starlight flames.

Her form appeared before them, glowing white against their crimson red. They stood, bodies swirling through, between, around each other in formless majesty.

"It is not permanent," she spoke, her eyes so soft and gentle.

Buffy felt herself glance at him, enveloped in the beautiful rose glow. "Spike?" She breathed.

"No," the Peacemaker answered, her voice rich and quiet. "You, mum."

Spike felt his boneless form tense, swirling protectively around his mate. "No."

The Peacemaker nodded. "You will heal, Father. You will forgive. You must help her. Your cure for her is not permanent."

Buffy shook against his fire. "No. Please, no. Not that."

"The beast shall return. Night after night. Father's blood can only return you to yourself for thirteen hours. Thirteen rotations of the hands of time. And then you shall fight on your own," the Peacemaker continued.

"No," Buffy whispered, shaking her head, tears streaming. "Please don't let this be for nothing."

The Peacemaker smiled. "Nothing is for nothing."

"I will feed her again. I will die before." Spike began.

Her rich voice cut him off. "She must fight herself. She is strong. You will help her. But she must fight this alone." Emma was quiet a moment, staring at the beautiful glow that was her parents. "You will win."

"How?" Buffy breathed. "How can I do this and protect you?"

"Love will quell the beast," the Peacemaker said softly, reaching towards them, touching the soft flames that had become their swirling forms. "Love wins."

"Please, Emma," Buffy pleaded. "Tell me how."

Again she smiled, warm and soft like goose down on a winter's day. "You will win."

With that, she was gone.

To be contd.

Title: Regrets (Chapter Twenty-Four 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 .

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: Willow, Tara, Dawn and Oz master their plan to find the Pawn. Xander shows up unexpectedly to help. Buffy awakes to realize what she has done and has to deal with the repercussions.

Regrets
"So, you really think this will work?" Dawn asked, leaning over the cauldron of stinky stuff shimmering away in the basement.

"Dunno, Dawnie. It's hard to say with magic," Willow answered, shrugging. "I mean, I wanted to do a spell where we could reveal the pawn, but with Draconius's mojo, that wouldn't really work."

"He's strong," Tara contributed, winking at Dawn.

Oz sat in the love seat, his feet on a stool, watching. "So, what does this one do then?" He smiled in amusement at the enchanting ladies before him. Willow was so. in command now. So strong. Sure of herself. It made her even more appealing than she had been when they were in high school. He sighed, knowing that this was only a short term thing. Like knowing something you care for would disappear, and trying to make the best of it while it lasted. But, he hoped, at least this way he'd be a permanent part of her, of their, lives. That was something he could be happy about, regardless of what was to come.

"Well," Willow sighed. "It *should* create a trace. Like a vapour trail," she joked, nodding at Oz.

"And I would know about that how?" He mocked, raising an eyebrow.

"Life on the road," Willow chided in return. "The temptations of stardom."

"Ah, yes," Oz answered, nodding. "My Led Zeppelin phase. I'd almost forgotten about my triple platinum."

"Back to the point," Dawn huffed, crossing her arms. Oz was becoming more like Spike around her friends. Particularly, Willow and Tara. She might need to start taking insulin if she had to watch any more flirty banter.

"Right," Willow said, shifting her gaze back to Dawn. "If we can't expose the pawn, then maybe we can follow it when it moves. See, the spell will make a sort of cosmic trail behind it wherever it goes. Kind of like following breadcrumbs. But sparkly."

"Ooh, did we get a pretty colour?" Tara asked, nudging Willow with her elbow.

Willow sighed, frowning. "Nope. Seems that the Goddess is a silver kinda gal."

"Sparkly though?" Dawn asked, her face hopeful.

"Sparkly, check." Willow answered, smiling. "Which will help. Since silver is kinda hard to pick up during the day."

"Ah, but canine senses," Oz joked, sniffing the air and opening his eyes wide.

"Yes, and a Vampire too," Tara contributed. "Silver is fine, baby." She leaned in to kiss her lover's cheek.

The word. The sweetness of it. The kiss. All of them sent little jolts through Oz, making him both more apprehensive and more excited about their upcoming . meeting. Still, he thought, they'd better make up their mind soon as he'd have to disappear for a few days for the full moon. He didn't think that Tara's new experiences with men needed to involve fur and fangs and blood.

Damn, what *should* they include? Points to ponder, Oz considered, leaning back into the chair.

"So, what do we have to do now?" Dawn asked, watching the bubbling liquid.

"Not much," Willow explained. "Figure out a guard schedule. What good's a sparkly trail if no one's there to see it?"

"We should to it in twos," Tara suggested, smiling softly. "Double the eyes."

"Double the pleasure," Dawn chirped, smiling at her own joke.

Yes, Oz thought, his hand rising to his chin and rubbing in contemplation. He shook his head. Must help Spike and Buffy. Must remove Penthouse forum thoughts from wolfy mind. Must focus.

As if on cue, Xander walked sleepily down the stairs, rubbing his face. "And hello to the Wicca department of Sunnydale's Number One demon fighting machine."

Willow quirked a brow. "I thought you went home?"

"I did," Xander answered, shaking the cobwebs from his head. "But River got fussy and Takina was up and I couldn't sleep so she suggested I come over here and help if I were already moving around."

Oz took one look at the sweatpants and ripped t-shirt on his old friend. "And didn't feel the need to dress first?"

"We live half a block away, Oz," Xander complained. "If I dressed every time I commuted between chez Harris and.. God, don't make me say it."

"They're married, now," Dawn said, prodding Xander.

"Don't remind me. Anyway, if I dressed every time I went from there to here, I'd be. dressed all the time," Xander muttered, rubbing his face again. "Okay, and that made sense how?"

Willow chuckled, surveying the room. "Well, until the rest get here in the morning, we should guard in shifts."

"Morning? Guard? Shifts?" Xander asked, his brain still squirming back to that of the awake Xander Harris.

"We cast a spell on the pawn. It's going to make glittery trails," Dawn squealed, pleased that they not only let her watch, but taught her how to help.

"Ooh, like a slug,"" Xander snarked. "Only glittery. And hopefully prettier."

"So, work in twos? " Tara continued.

"Sounds good," Oz answered.

"Why don't you and Xander go first," Tara began, nodding at Willow, her eyes betraying more than the others could see. It was time. Xander needed to know. "I'll take Dawnie," she continued.

"No," Willow said, her eyes being just as communicative. "I think that you should take Oz. Get to know each other a bit. Dawn can be our inside eyes and ears. Not to mention keep an ear out on the kids."

"Hey," Dawn whined.

"It's raining anyway, Dawnie," Xander said, relieving her from complete aggravation at being left out.

"Oh," the teen sighed. "Can I watch tomorrow?"

"You can follow silvery trails all day long," Willow chirped, patting the girl's back. She stood, taking a deep breath and looking down at Tara. Tara smiled, giving her strength, confidence. They had made the right choice. Xander would understand. It was time.

"Ready?" The redhead asked her oldest friend.

"Ready," Xander answered, grabbing her hand and letting her haul him off the couch. "Let's go watch for glittery slugs in the rain."

~~~~~
It was cold. Colder than it should have been. And hard. It was hard and cold.

Her eyes swam open to flickering light. A candle.

She blinked.

The room was dark. Where was the bed? Did they.. Not with the kids home. They had learned not to do anything involving breaking furniture or ending up floor bound when Emma had come to the door and wondering if everything was okay. Thank goodness he had locked it.

Buffy propped herself up on her elbows, shaking her head. She felt tired, but strangely alive. Now, that was an odd thought. Hadn't she always been alive? Well, at least recently.

It took a minute to sort it all out in her sleepy brain. Candle. Cold. Tile. Bathroom. Bathmat. Floor.

Spike.

Oh God.

She had to look no further than directly beneath her to find him. He was laid on the bathmat, a towel over his midsection. She was draped over his chest like a T. Like she had fallen asleep kneeling at his side and dropped down over him.

Buffy pushed herself up and it all flooded back. The blood. It had been everywhere. She glanced around the room and not a drop remained. Her hand fluttered to her face and came away clean and soft and scented like vanilla. The blood was gone from his marble figure. His hair was mussed bleached curls and his dark eyelashes lay quietly against pale skin. His chest rose and fell slowly as her hand nervously touched his bound neck, tracing the bandages with gentle fingers.

Her heart sank into her stomach and guilt crashed over her in a fiery wave of torment.

"Spike," she whispered into the air. There was nothing else she could say.

Tears began to fall as she remembered it. Felt it. Knew what she had done. Understood what he had done to survive and what he had sacrificed for her survival. The blood. His life, hers, draining out of him and into her. Coursing through her veins. Taking it from him greedily.

He hadn't done that when he had drunk from her. When they joined. He had sipped her like fine wine into ecstasy. He'd coddled her and cradled her and made her safe.

She had torn his throat out.

Buffy gulped, pulling herself up on shaky feet, the weight of her conscience making it that much harder to stand. She leaned down, using all of their combined strength to lift him up and carry him back into their room. Their bed.

Part of her wanted to run as she laid him out on the ivory sheets, pulling the blanket over his perfect form. Run away. Run hard. Run fast. That way she'd never have to look him in the eye again and admit what she had done. Never have to be reminded of it. Never have to know what he must have felt somewhere, sometime along the way. And she wouldn't have to know that he had known what she thought of it. What she thought of Vampires at one time. What the Slayer in her had thought.

Buffy shuddered, knowing that Spike now knew the disgust that she had once felt. And she had known his horror and his sadness.

How could he ever forgive her?

She turned, heading for the chest of drawers in search of clothes. There was no running forever. Sooner or later, she'd have to face this. But not now. Not now. The first drawer opened with a creak and she heard a moan.

That changes everything. Can't just leave him. "Spike?"

The moonlight was shining through the window, lighting his face in a silvery glow. Blue eyes flickered open and stared at her with love and desperation and need.

Tears pooled, hot and heavy behind her eyes. No. No, Dammit! That's not the look you're supposed to have. Hate. Disgust. Terror. Anger. Stop looking at me with those pretty, loving eyes, she thought.

"Buffy?" His voice was cracked, arid. It sounded so. sad. But the word was full of love. The way he said her name was like a symphony all in two syllables.

She swallowed, moving into the shadows. So he couldn't see. "Yes?" Her voice shook and she was torn between hopping out the window and running to him.

"Water, Pet," he said so quietly that she barely heard him. But it was something. Something fathomable. Something she could handle. Process. Do. A small step towards redemption.

Thoughts tumbled through her mind as she nearly killed herself getting into the sparkling clean bathroom and filling a tumbler full of the coldest water the tap could muster. Buffy ran, trying not to spill the water, and skidded to a halt next to the bed, holding it out for him.

Spike didn't take it. Instead, he moved over, wincing, patting the bed next to him. Gesturing for her to sit. The whole time, looking at her with those eyes. Those enormous blue pools full of nothing but love for her. Nothing but forgiveness. Unending, undying adoration. "Buffy," he repeated softly.

"I.I can't.." Buffy answered, choking back a sob, and pushing the water towards him again. He took it in one shaking hand and drank it all in one long draw. "I. I ."

"Shh," Spike whispered, finding her hand in his and tugging until her shaking form tumbled down next to him. She sat, her legs curled to her chest, rocking slightly. "Buffy, love."

"No." Her voice was wretched, racked with guilt, her body trembling from pretty pink toes to shiny blonde hair. "I. How can you."

"How can I what, Pet?" Spike asked, using all of his spare energy to push himself upright, leaning forward a little to balance over his own bent knees. His arms dangled down like a child.

The words were too small to hear. "Forgive me."

"For what?" Spike asked, his fingers fumbling under blankets until he could find her. He needed to touch her. Flesh to flesh. Needed to feel her.

She looked at him with drowning emerald eyes and hitched. "For.." Her hand reached his neck, her fingers shaking badly.

Spike reached up, cupping her hand under his and pressing it to the wound. "Nothing to forgive, Love," he whispered. "We do what we have to to keep each other alive."

"But I." Buffy stuttered.

His hand raised again, his finger pressing over her lips. "I'm alive, Pet. You're alive. And you're you again, if only for a while." His voice got quiet, remembering the time limit on their trade off. "We've got a chance to suss it out now. Worth every moment to have you here with me while we do."

Buffy's heart broke, knowing that he was telling her the truth. Spending thirteen more hours with her was worth nearly dying. Half a day, and he'd toy with death. Then it hit her.

She would have done the same.

Still, guilt was swallowing her whole. "Spike, I . I didn't realize."

"I know, Love," Spike interrupted, lying back on the bed and tugging her down with him. She laid, her arm draped over his chest, her wet cheek pressed to his shoulder. He stroked her back, letting his fingers tangle in her hair. "I knew you wouldn't know when to stop. But we had to."

"You knew?" Buffy asked, pushing herself up to see his eyes.

He nodded softly in the moonlight. "First feed. Usually someone has to pull you off if you're not meant to kill 'em."

"Then why?" Buffy asked, her hand tracing the bandage again and the tears still streaming in silver rivers.

Spike sighed. "Didn't have time. No one to ask. You needed help. I felt it, Buffy. I felt it consuming you. Couldn't let it have you. Not all of you." His grip became tighter, pulling her flush against him.

She was quiet for a long while, listening to his heart, trying to figure out what to do now. Where to go. "Please," Buffy finally whispered.

"Please what, Pet?" Spike asked, kissing the crown of her head.

"Please forgive me," Buffy whispered into the skin of his chest. "Please love me."

Spike pushed her up until they were eye to eye. His never wavered. They were still full of love. Devotion. Adoration. "Pet, I will *never* stop loving you. Ever. I will never leave you. Never leave the tots. I have nothing to forgive you for 'coz far as I'm concerned, we're One. We both made a choice. We both survived. We both are here. And we will win. So, no regrets. "

"But, Spike?"

"No," he whispered, pressing his lips softly to hers. "Regrets. Please, Buffy. Don't waste our time on something that isn't. We need to take what we have and save you."

Another rolling sob overtook her. "Spike."

"Please," Spike whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. "No regrets. You know that I love you."

She nodded, tears spilling from her eyes to his cheek.

"You know that I will love you always," he said, his hand cupping her cheek.

Again she nodded, her body still trembling in fear.

"No regrets, Love. Love always wins. " He smiled softly as she watched her remember the words from their conversation on the way home, and from Emma. She returned the smile, her fingers tracing his full lips.

"Then we win," Buffy whispered, her voice still shaky, but gaining confidence.

"We always will," Spike answered, drawing her closer. "Always."

To be contd.

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