33. I’ll make your heart smile

Out of all those kinds of people
you got a face with a view
I’m just an animal looking for a home
share the same space for a minute or two
and you love me till my heart stops
love me till I’m dead
eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Talking Heads, This must be the place,
from the album Speaking in Tongues

Your burning eyes cause flames to arise
Will you let the fire die down soon
or will I always be here
your favorite passion
your favorite game
your favorite mirror
your favorite slave
I’m hanging on your words
living on your breath
feeling with your skin
Depeche Mode, In your room,
from the album Songs of Faith and Devotion



Her whole body felt like rubber. Slumped against Spike’s chest, Buffy felt like oozy cheese, spread against the hard planes of Spike’s body. Her nipples ached. In a good way, but they did.

She felt slippery inside, warm and wet and well used. Nuzzling against his chest, Buffy mewled a protest when his hands slipped from under her hips, dropping them to around his waist. Locking her ankles, Buffy felt the aftershocks race through her.

Tiny little almost electrical shock waves pulsed inside her pussy, contracting it around the semi-hard cock still embedded in her body. Spike thrust again inside her, during the next one, setting off another series of leg trembles.

His laugh was breathlessly wicked.

Easing her down further, Spike reluctantly slid from between her legs. Buffy whimpered another protest, and instead of turning from her, Spike leaned down, his hands braced on either side of her and kissed her senseless.

Pulling away, he smiled down at her, then with a wicked wiggle of his eyebrows, he ducked low and put her up over his left shoulder. Hiking up his sweat pants, he headed up the stairs to her bedroom.


******************************** ***************************************

They stared at each other, the Key and the Huntsman, neither one speaking. The hounds were quiet, not making a sound, just waiting patiently for a signal from their master.

He was huge, Dawn noted idly. Taller than Riley and broader than Angel. Kind of looked like Hagrid’s smaller brother – with horns. Yup, those were definitely horns sprouting from his head, like deer horns, sort of. He was wearing some sort of leather and . . . was that a wreath? He smelled kind of funny too, like a wet dog and fallen leaves and some other indefinable smell, like old bodies and metal . . . sulfur. Dawn realized she was mentally babbling and stopped it, letting her mind go blank.

Have to remember all this for Giles, she thought, listing everything about this guy in her head. These are the hounds that attacked Spike. So how come they aren’t coming after me?

The Huntsman made a motion with his hands, and as one, the pack sat back on their haunches without so much as a whimper of protest. He started to speak, but Dawn understood none of it. Sounded like a bunch of weird consonants all jumbled together. But then he said something which sounded like what Giles had called the pack, just this morning. That she understood. “Cwn Annwn.”

She said it back to him, and he stopped speaking, nodding once at her, then began again. This time he spoke slower, as if expecting her to understand what he said.

“Bainne congbhaighim clisneach suthainn riamh. N’bhos chionn uait ah’lhiats sinn dh’iarradh leagh chionn na bh’air an goid bhuainn nall neamh.”

Pointing a finger at Willow, he continued speaking “Earail bhuainn mo tighearna, ruadh Seileach eil gaueagh.”

He waited a moment, expecting her to respond, and when she repeated his words back at him, never even knowing she did it, he nodded once, and then, in a whirl of leather and dogs, the Huntsman and pack were gone.

She stood there blinking, not sure she’d just lived through their encounter. Was Buffy going to be madder that she talked to him or that she hadn’t tried to kill him? Or was she just going to act like a mom and get all worried like?

Dawn came back to herself to find the wonder twins babbling like idiots. Raising her hands, Dawn turned around to face them both. “I have to go see Giles now. Before I forget.”

Brushing past the two of them, she headed for Xander’s car. Realizing they weren’t following, Dawn turned back to face them and, with a patented Summers look, said “are you two coming? Or are you gonna stand there and gawk?”


******************************** ***************************************


She was too spent to protest the upside down position she was in. Instead, Buffy decided she should take full advantage and let her hand slip inside his sweats, cupping around his very nicely shaped butt cheek. And just because she could, she pinched him.

He retaliated by leaning his head closer and nipping her hip. “Two can play that game missy.”

A delicious little breathless giggle reached his ears and Spike smiled broadly. Swinging open the door to her room and taking two steps in, suddenly he was at the side of her bed. Sliding his hand along her torso, Spike lifted the tee shirt off as he playfully dumped her on the bed. His sweats hit the floor seconds later and they just stared at each other.

Now that she knew – how he felt, what it was like to hold him within her, Buffy was wanting it again. He filled her, warmed her up in ways that Riley had tried but never really managed. And oh, how unfair of her to think of him in this moment.

Lifting her eyes to Spike’s, Buffy nearly drowned at the awe in his gaze. Flushing slightly she moved to cover up. Reaching out a tentative hand to her, he rumbled softly, “no kitten, don’t . . . want to see you . . . waitin’ for me . . . wantin’ me.”

He stepped closer to the bed and Buffy raised herself up to her knees. His skin, alabaster pale and subtly hewn, begged to be touched. He was . . . in Cordelia’s words, lickable salty goodness. Reaching out a warm hand, she hovered it over his skin, running her fingers over the hard planes of his abs, the lines of his hips, the defined biceps. “Strong . . . so strong.”

She wasn’t even aware of her words, but he heard. Her fingers burned like fire, sending electrical shocks down through his muscles. His entire body hummed beneath her touch, responding to her unconscious call. “Gorgeous . . . just . . . sculpture.”

Her breath caressed his skin, as her fingers closed over his nipples. Spike leaned into her touch, rumbling low in his throat, “need you kitten.”

Looking up at him, Buffy closed the gap between them. Sliding her fingers down the middle of his chest, her hand closed around his erection. Pumping up and down, she licked her lips and he was lost. Diving down for her mouth, Spike pushed her back down on the bed, laying himself beside her.

His left hand skimmed over her skin, but not touching, raising gooseflesh. Barely touching her nipples, Spike breathed heavily against her shoulder. Dipping lower, his fingers mimicked what hers had done to him just moments ago. Hovering over her damp curls, Spike whispered against her skin, “let me in love, let me in.”

Arching up her hips to capture his teasing hand, Buffy slid her legs open and in the same motion, grasped his cock. “Yes” hissed in the air simultaneously as she clenched her hand and pussy around him.

“Spike . . . . please.”

Sliding down to latch onto her nipple, Spike pulled her up on top of him. Catching on, Buffy slowly lowered herself on his rock hard length.

Hissing again, Buffy shuddered around him, as Spike bucked his hips up against her. “That’s it baby, ride me hard.”

Throwing back her head, Buffy did just that.


******************************** ***************************************

She slammed through the door, almost as if the hounds were behind her, not caring if the shop was full of customers. Looking up from her spot by the books, Anya called out a cheery hello, to which Dawn only smiled at. “Where’s Giles?”

His voice drifted down from the restricted section and before he could make his way down the ladder, Dawn was climbing up. “Giles, I found them. Well, sort of they found me, but like nothing happened. Okay, that’s not true but like they didn’t attack and what the heck does this mean?” And Dawn repeated the Huntsman’s words nearly perfectly.

“Dawn. Slow down.” He tried calming her, but she was so on edge, from both the encounter with the Cwn Annwn and having to put up with the moaning myrtles that she couldn’t keep still.

“Tell me what happened.” Sitting her down on the floor, Giles leaned back against the bookshelf.

“Okay. So we left the house and the whole time Xander was bitching about Spike so I kinda started walking apart from him and” she dropped her voice so that the other two couldn’t hear her “can I tell you how much I’m not loving the complaining? And Giles, Willow’s acting way weird.”

He smiled a bit, despite his eagerness to get to the heart of the story. He’d wondered how she was going to fare with those two. “Focus please.”

“Right. Okay. But remind me to tell you and Buffy later what Willow did this morning.”

“Tara already told us, and I’d like your impression of things, but for now, the hounds please.”

“Yeah, Giles he was way big, like Hagrid and all leathery and he had horns kind of like deer horns but not quite like, you know, all pointy, there was just one point.”

Flipping through the pages of the book he grabbed off the shelf behind him, Giles found the drawing he was looking for. “Like this?”

“Yup. That’s him.”

Quickly growing serious, Giles grabbed his pocket recorder and told Dawn to repeat what he’d said to her, as best she could.

Closing her eyes, Dawn did her best.

It was not a language he immediately recognized, but between himself, Spike and Anya, they might be able to pinpoint it and possibly decipher it.

Looking down at the teen, Giles was struck by an odd thought. If Buffy was like his daughter, as he told her earlier this morning, Dawn was also. A year ago that thought would have bothered him. But now, smiling down at her, Giles realized he’d come to love her nearly as much as her sister, increasing his guilt over what he’d counseled Buffy to do during the fight with Glory. Trying to make up for it in a small way, Giles said, “you did very well Dawn. Kept your wits about yourself and didn’t panic. I’m proud of you. How would you like to help me research this a bit more?”

Her eyes lit up and Dawn stared at him. “Giles, are you okay? Xander didn’t hit you on the head did he?”

Laughing for the first time in days, Giles patted her shoulder and said, “not bloody likely.”

“This is soo cool. First patrolling and now research.”

Gathering up the books he’d been pulling off the shelves, he and Dawn made their way to the research table.


******************************** ***************************************


Xander and Willow had entered the shop as Dawn hit the top step of the ladder, neither one of them in a good mood. They’d done nothing but commiserate over the calamities in their lives, Willow’s fears about Oz and Xander’s inability to understand Buffy’s attraction to Spike.

He’d absently kissed Anya hello while listening to Willow’s almost incoherent ramblings.

“Xander. I need you to go get me some lunch.” Anya’s voice broke through his musings and he halfway turned his attention to her.

“Sure Ahn, what do you want?”

Giving him a list, Anya shooed him and the still babbling Willow out the door.

“Giles?”

“Yes Anya?” He answered her without looking up.

“Willow’s using too much magic” was her matter of fact assessment. And she quickly launched into her take on what happened in the kitchen before everyone had arrived, which then prompted Dawn to chime in with her corroboration of Tara’s account.

And then Anya said something that really made the hair on Giles’ neck stand up. “Its like I told Xander before, she brought Buffy from an unknown dimension, the laws require some sort of payment of equal value. And Willow didn’t provide that. There’s got to be some sort of shift going on . . . “

She looked up from logging in some of the sales to find Giles staring at her open-mouthed.

“What? What did I do? Have I got something on my face? Why are you staring at me?” Anya’s voice rose as her consternation did.

“Good god Anya – that’s it. That has to be why the hounds are here.”

Flipping through the books frantically now, Giles directed Dawn to look for any reference to Gwyn ap Nudd or Arawn, and he wrote down the names for her.


******************************** ***************************************

Buffy collapsed face down on his chest, her hair splayed all over both of them. She was worse off than she’d been before, now every single muscle felt woozy, none of them willing to respond to her brain’s sluggish commands. Spike inhaled deeply beneath her, then sputtered a bit as her hair worked its way into his mouth. She giggled softly, while he grumbled teasingly about long hair getting everywhere, saying, “I could cut it off it if bothers you so much.”

“Nah, then I couldn’t do this” he said as he worked a hand underneath it to splay across her back. Grabbing a bit of it with his other hand, he tickled her nose “or this” then shifting, creating space between them, he took that same little bit and teased it over her nipple “or this.”

That was all it took. That tiny little movement while he sucked in unneeded air and she was aching for him all over again.
 

34. Shadow on the sun

The man of knowledge must not only be able to love his enemies, but must also be able to hate his friends.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Samtliche Werke: Kritische Studienausgabe

Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.
Martin Luther King, Strength to Love, chap. 4


Armed with Dawn’s description and Anya’s dead on assessment, Giles made more inroads in the research than he’d expected. So by the time he realized how late it was, the sun was down and no one had bothered to call Buffy to let her know Dawn was back safe and sound.

Glancing at his watch, he also realized no one had heard from her either – which was odd considering she’d been concerned about Dawn going on patrol. Abruptly realizing that everyone was in the Magic Box except for Buffy and Spike, he grimaced slightly, then hid a grin. Undoubtedly Spike wasted no time once everyone was gone.

Just as he was about to get up and call, the phone rang. Anya answered, still chipper after working all day and she smiled brightly as she handed the phone to Giles.

“Rupert, its Wesley Wyndham-Price.”

Well, that was a surprise. “Hello Wesley. What can I do for you?”

“Actually, its what I can do for you. I’ve discovered something that may be of importance regarding information transmission.”

It took him a moment to decipher what Wesley was alluding too, but when he realized it, Giles looked around, noting everyone’s attention focused on him, moving into the back office, Giles closed the door and said “go ahead.”

“Our mutual friends have been sending out feelers regarding obtaining information about commodities under your control.”

Before the other man could go any further, Giles said “Wesley, stop right there.”

The former watcher did, catching onto the apprehension in Giles’ voice.

“Are you still in the same location?”

“Yes.”

“How soon can you make arrangements to leave?”

Understanding dawned in Wesley’s voice “not until tomorrow night at the earliest.”

“Right then. I’ll have the kettle on.”

And both men hung up at the same time.

Giles stared at nothing, wondering what else could possibly go wrong, then mentally kicking himself for the thought. He needed to speak to both Buffy and Spike.

Dialing the number, Giles waited for one of them to pick up.


******************************** ***************************************

At some point, they’d fallen back to sleep, her leg up over his hip, their groins touching, arms entwined around each other. There was a ringing in his ears, dragging him from a particularly good dream where he was shagging the slayer senseless.

Spike woke up to the phone ringing and Buffy naked in his arms. Right, not a dream then.

Reaching over her, he lifted up the phone, grousing, “this better be good.”

“I’m sure its not anything approaching what you would consider good” Giles’ voice was dry.

“Out with it then” Spike’s sigh ruffled Buffy’s hair and he idly moved it off her face.

“Not so dire that you need to rush out.” And Giles quickly caught him up on what had happened during the day, only omitting for the time being Wesley’s phone call, but he didn’t want to alarm them any more than necessary.

“You want us to come there or you gonna cart everyone over here?” Buffy raised her eyes, shaking her head no at the second part of that question. “Never mind Watcher, Buffy wants to meet there.”

“Right. Give us an hour or so.” No need to tell Rupert they were currently in no state to be anywhere but exactly where they were until they showered.

Just before hanging up, Spike said, “Chinese and make it spicy.”

Buffy flopped over onto her back, really not wanting to move any further than the other side of the bed. Perhaps back on top of Spike or underneath him, but no where else. She smiled up at nothing, wondering what he would say if she could say that out loud. “So what’s up?”

Leaning over her, up on one elbow, Spike ran his hand over her breasts, flicking her nipples. “Huntsman is with the pack. Dawn is fine and Giles has more news.”

“And that’s all you’re going to tell me, isn’t it?” Buffy narrowed her eyes a bit, knowing there was far more to either story than two sentences, but figuring he’d only avoid her questions about anything until he was ready to talk.

“Yeah. No point in goin’ over it and stealin’ Rupert’s thunder. He’s gonna ‘xplain it all later in any case. Might as well hear it from him. ‘Sides” he continued, “rather spend my time doin’ this” as his voice dropped and he slid his fingers down to cup her mound.

“Spike. . . . shouldn’t we . . . mmmmm. . . “ Buffy arched her hips, opening up for him. He leaned closer, laying open mouthed kisses along her collarbone, trailing down toward her breast. Sliding over her, leaning heavily on his elbows, Spike framed her head and shoulders with his arms, wiggling his hips against her. “Spike, shouldn’t . . . you told him . . . an hour.”

“I did.” His mouth captured hers and she could feel his erection growing between their bodies. “But, this” he proceeded as he nuzzled the side of her neck, “is what I want to do.” Teasing her by thrusting against her clit, Spike nipped his bite marks then said, “but kitten if you wanna go, we will.”

Wrapping her legs around him, her hands pulling his hips down hard against hers, Buffy tried wiggling around so she could slip him inside her. “No” she breathed heavily as he lifted his hips away from her “no, no. . . don’t go . . .” Then whispered his name in a kind of half whine “Spiiike.”

Lifting himself up away from her body, he grinned down at her. “You sure this is what you want? Don’t wanna disappoint the watcher do you?”

Buffy grabbed his hip, guiding him down against her forcefully. “Don’t care. Want. Now.”

Teasing her again, he shifted once more to avoid entering her “positive, love?”

She growled up at him, using both her legs to pull him down against her. “Yes. . . now.”

Ooh he thought, got the slayer wanting this also. Staring into her eyes, daring her to not look away, Spike shifted again, sliding against her heat. Buffy’s eyes grew impossibly wider as he teased against her then thrust out her lip in an unconscious pout. Oh bloody fucking hell, that did it. That damn pout. Spike honed in on her lip, and as he nibbled on it, maneuvered himself inside her. “God. . . fucking hot . . . so wet . . . “

He groaned into her mouth, rocking hard inside her, his hips pumping a constant rhythm, sliding in and out and back in again. It was hard and fast and Spike had to control the urge to go into game face and bite her, it was a near thing, everything in him urging him to claim her, mark her permanently as his, but he wouldn’t do that to her, not without . . . . and his mind went blank as their orgasms wrenched through them simultaneously.

Panting for air, Spike laid his head between her breasts and held back the tears.


******************************** ***************************************

Giles gave them an hour and fifteen minutes before he even called the Chinese take-away, knowing they wouldn’t make the hour time limit Spike had quoted at him. He and Dawn had slacked off the research, not because they’d discovered everything, but mainly because after Wesley’s phone call, he’d been focused on other things. The cryptic information the other Englishman had imparted had struck Giles as a bit of unusual timing and also there had been an odd note in his voice. Something was not right in Los Angeles.

Just like something was not right in Sunnydale. With any luck, the two weren’t connected. But Giles didn’t like leaving anything to luck, especially not when it came to the hellmouth – or, as Wesley put it “commodities under his control.”

And he’d used the plural. Meaning more than one. And the only ‘commodities’ Giles had seemingly under his control were the girls and Spike. Not that any of them would admit to being under his control, either.

Wiping his glasses, Giles surveyed the pile of books laid out on the table before him. It was now an hour and a half and knowing Spike’s timing, he and Buffy would arrive just as the Chinese did. Directing Dawn to help him pile up the books, Giles sent a plea heaven-ward that Xander wouldn’t react the same way he’d done this morning. Another confrontation he didn’t look forward too.

Taking Tara’s, Dawn’s and Anya’s cautions about Willow to heart, Giles had spent part of the afternoon watching her. And unfortunately, he was beginning to agree with their assessment. She was . . . tainted was the first word that came to mind. Somehow, the innocent insecure Willow had been replaced with this creature he was sure he didn’t know. Oh he was certain it wasn’t a demonic possession, not even a ghostly one. It was more like a shadow of Willow, or rather, the darkest part of Willow’s personality was coming to the fore, overtaking the sweet over-achiever he’d first met in the high school library. And Giles didn’t think this was a normal part of growing up, of gaining maturity. It was almost a bit like what he’d gone through when he’d rebelled against parental control and dabbled with magic beyond his control, but not beyond his reach. Hopefully Willow wouldn’t start conjuring demons.

Abruptly, Giles realized what Willow had done, opening an untold number of dimensions at the hellmouth couldn’t possibly be any better. In fact, was most likely worse.

He was still sitting there stunned when the bell over the door rang, and Spike walked in, followed by Buffy and the Chinese delivery. Glad he’d only made a mental wager with himself, Giles hid a smile when Tara handed Dawn five dollars.

Grinning up at him in a moment of unspoken solidarity, Dawn danced the bill in the air, and he had to laugh.


********************************
***************************************

Dinner was a quiet affair for once. Giles had no desire to divulge his information with everyone present, and the others, at least Xander and Willow, had no idea the direction of his research. He had no intention of telling either of them in any case. He would disclose everything to the blond pair, but something held him back from bringing it up while they were eating. He suddenly had no desire to talk about anything important in the shop.

Besides, both Buffy and Spike were in uncommonly good moods, and he didn’t want to break it, at least not just yet. So keeping the talk general and not slayer related, Giles watched the relationships unfolding around his table.

It was obvious to anyone watching that Willow and Tara’s relationship was about to implode. Tara barely spoke to her girlfriend, directing playful banter at Spike, listening carefully to Buffy and mothering Dawn, and Willow was patently unaware of the shift. Spike had barely spoken to the red-head and Buffy almost completely ignored her. Fallout, from the retrieval, no doubt.

Xander sat as far away from Spike as possible, which, unfortunately for Xander, brought him face to face with him, albeit the table width between them. Both men were sporting new bruises, but it looked like Xander had borne the brunt of the fighting. Watching the half-hearted interaction between Xander and Anya, Giles had the sinking feeling that they were also headed for an upset. Really, a girl like Anya could probably do much better.

That left Buffy and Spike. They were funny, already stealing food from the other’s plates, Spike subtly feeding Buffy by making her taste this and that, all slipping by unnoticed. And the really remarkable thing was that neither one of them left Dawn out, she was included in their circle without any extra effort. She stole equally from the pair, and they treated her like the playful child she was. Giles was suddenly reminded of that night, when Willow’s ‘will be done’ spell had backfired. Had it really? When it came to these two, Giles wasn’t so sure. Perhaps it just allowed unacknowledged feelings to surface. He hadn’t seen them that night, but his hearing had been fine, and they sounded, to the best of his recollection, almost exactly the same. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe there was more to Buffy’s inexplicable attraction to vampires than the Council was willing to admit. Maybe – he needed to look into this also, after he figured out what was happening on the hellmouth.

As he’d sat there musing, dinner had winded down, and seizing upon a perfect opportunity to get Buffy and Spike alone, away from eavesdropping friends and nosey little sisters, Giles asked “since neither of you is up for solitary patrol, how about I accompany you both?”

Knowing a ploy for a secret meeting when he heard it, Spike glanced once at Buffy, and in the silent communication some couples have, got her agreement and said “sure Watcher, if you think you can keep up with the walking wounded.”

Xander hadn’t even offered and while Dawn whined a bit, for once Spike was unbending. “Not tonight, Niblet, not up for protecting non-combatants. Need you to stay indoors, safe and sound.”

When she started to protest, Spike just dug in his heels. He wasn’t normally so forceful with her, but she was pushing his buttons, and Spike wasn’t entirely sure how Buffy was going to be on patrol.

Gritting his teeth, Spike looked at her, pointedly saying, “Dawn. . . not . . . tonight . . . don’t . . . ask . . . again.”

Unspoken was, otherwise I won’t ever let you patrol again, whether or not Buffy agreed.

Grumpy, she flounced back into her chair, unappeased by Tara’s offer to sit up and watch movies together.

However, the additional offer of ice cream was grudgingly accepted.


******************************** ****************************************

“She’ll get over it. Trust me.” Spike tried again, after Buffy’s third repetition of “Dawn’s pissed at you.”

“Believe me kitten, ‘s not the first time and nowhere near the last, but your sis needs to be told no once in a while. And she needs to know I’m not the pushover she thinks I am.”

Buffy stopped short, causing both men to turn around.

“What?”

“Do you realize how parental that sounds?” There was real amusement in her voice as she realized how Spike felt about her sister.

Scratching the back of his neck, Spike looked down at his feet. Without looking at Giles, he mumbled “‘s how I feel sometimes.”

Which came as no real surprise to Rupert. But it obviously was to Buffy because she gaped at him, unable to find any words that wouldn’t upset him.

“Dunno if its right, but she’s had it rough. Your dad disappearing, your mum going all sickly round about the time Niblet discovered who she is, then first Joyce dying . . . and that Glory bint . . . and you.” Spike stood there, trying to explain how he felt, while the other two just waited him out.

“She was lost, feeling alone and . . . that no one was there to protect her or help her . . . no offense Rupert, “ realizing he might be insulting the other man, Spike tried to make unnecessary amends.

“None taken. You are right.” Giles gestured for him to continue.

“Jus’ felt like she needed me. And, she’s not my blood, but” and he paused, searching for the right words, “in a way, she’s mine.”

He’d no idea how his halting speech affected Buffy until he looked up to see her wiping away tears. If there were any doubts in her about continuing this relationship, Buffy felt more of them crumble to dust.

Before they’d discovered the memories were a plant, Riley had treated Dawn like a necessary evil, had to be nice to her because she was Buffy’s sister, and the way Angel had treated her didn’t really count, but it did, because Dawn mattered. And now, there was Spike, standing here, telling her that he loved her not because Dawn was her sister, but because she was Dawn. And he loved her. Really. It was plainly, painfully clear that Spike loved Dawn like his own blood family.

Suddenly she knew she’d made the right decision all those months ago, entrusting her own flesh and blood to this man. Knew it like she knew her own name.

Wordlessly she closed the short distance between them, her arms opening to gather him close.

“Oh Spike. You know she loves you too.”

“Yeah.” Looking helplessly down at the woman in his arms, Spike laughed at himself. “I do know.”

Giles turned away, giving them a moment of privacy.
 

35. Breeding unnatural troubles.

The troubles which have come upon us always seem more serious than those which are only threatening.
Titus Livius (Livy), Histories, III

Fortune does not arrive in pairs, and troubles do not come singly.
Chinese proverb

Foul whisp’rings are abroad. Unnatural deeds
do breed unnatural troubles. Infected minds
to their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine than the physician.
Macbeth, act 5, sc 1


They found him sitting on a bench, not too far away and only a few minutes after he’d left them alone, cell phone at his ear focused intently on the conversation. Gesturing them closer, Giles stood up, then flipped the phone closed.

“That was part of what I wanted to talk to you both about.”

Senses now alert, they waited for him to continue. “That was Wesley.”

“Huh?” Buffy looked from one Englishman to another, clearly not understanding.

“Not sure pet, first I’m hearing it.” Spike was curious also, but had a feeling that they were about to discover the purpose behind the not so subtle secret meeting.

“He called me earlier. Led me to understand he had some information about how the Council is obtaining information from Sunnydale.”

“What?”

“We knew someone was sending information to London that wasn’t sent by us. They knew ‘bout me patrolling alone.” Spike gestured for Giles to continue.

“They questioned me about it when they recalled me after, well, before Willow brought you back,” he paused, clearing his throat. “In any case, Wesley said he had some information regarding that, and, just now he said we’ve been under video surveillance for months.”

Spike swore, kicking the bench while Buffy stood there stunned.

“How extensive?”

“He’s not certain. But he should be arriving sometime tomorrow with some ideas and some other things he believes might be of importance.”

“This is so not good Giles.” Buffy whirled around, sitting down on the bench. “This is so very not good.”

“Agreed. I would suggest we not discuss anything of importance within the shop until we know how intrusive and extensive the surveillance is.” Giles scanned the area again. “And I would suggest you be aware of the possibility of being followed at all times.”

Spike had paced a bit, sniffing out the air, then came back. Leaning in close, he softly said “nothin’s out there now, but I would imagine its not a huge operation, probably a local. Knows all of us on sight.”

“I would agree with that. And probably not a demon, although we shouldn’t rule that out.”

Buffy let their conversation wash over her. This was just so much more than she was ready to face. Hellhounds and spies, what else could possibly happen?

Her sudden apprehension communicated itself to him, via her increased and erratic heartbeat. Spike immediately re-directed his attention to her. “Sunshine?”

Turning tear-filled eyes up to meet his gaze, Buffy’s lower lip quivered and he was instantly by her side.

“‘s all gonna be all right. We’ll suss out this whole thing, the hounds will be sent back home and we’ll get the wankers spyin’. No need to fret.” Rubbing her back, he pulled her close and she naturally laid her head on his shoulder.

Sharing a pointed look with Giles, Spike said, “c’mon sunshine, let’s go home.”


******************************** ****************************************

They were only steps from the cemetery, when Buffy was struck by a thought. Stopping dead in her tracks, she looked between the two men flanking her and wondered if either of them had thought of the implications of Wesley’s visit – or rather, who might be traveling with him. Figuring that she needed to say something, at least to let them know she was thinking about it, she tightened her grip on Spike’s hand and said “Giles is Wes coming alone?”

“He hadn’t said he . . . “ Catching onto her meaning, Giles said, “no, he didn’t say anything about anyone coming with him. I’m not even sure they know yet.”

Thinking back over his conversation, Giles was certain he hadn’t mentioned anything about Buffy being returned from beyond, nor had Wesley made a mention of anyone taking the trip from Los Angeles with him. But, judging by the look on Buffy’s face and Spike’s sudden withdrawal from her, Giles knew he had to make certain Wesley came alone.

“Hold on a moment.” Flipping open his phone, Giles hit re-dial and waited for the phone to connect.

“Wesley, its Rupert again.” A pause, then, “fine. Need to make arrangements for your accommodations, is it just you coming or will you have company?”

He paused for so long that Spike started fidgeting, pulling away from Buffy. He’d been strangely silent while she and Giles had spoken about the possibility of Wesley having a companion or two along for the ride, his own apprehension about that situation more than enough to set his teeth on edge. This, with Buffy was too new, too fragile to withstand an assault from Angel on the heels of Xander’s outburst. Spike moved away from Buffy, his face set and brows drawn together.

“Spike?” She followed him, aware that his pulling away from her had more to do with Wesley than anything else. He lit up a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from her, avoiding her gaze while he tried to get his temper and hurt under control.

“‘m all right.”

“No you’re not.” Buffy stood in front of him, staring up at his features. It was so easy to read him sometimes, especially at moments like this one. “Spike. Look at me.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed, transfixing her attention. And there was her confirmation that this was bothering him. Oh, he could try and play it cool, which wasn’t working, pretend that none of it mattered, but she knew. Knew how much this meant to him, because it meant just as much to her. And she had to tell him why she was asking, not so much for herself, but for him too. She didn’t want any confrontations with Angel any more than he did. How could she say that without him thinking she was just catering to his pride? She wasn’t sure what she was about to say would work, but it was the best she could do at this moment. “I don’t want him here.”

That brought his gaze round fast. Dropping the cigarette butt on the ground, Spike ducked his head. “Sure ‘bout that, are you?”

“Absolutely.” There was enough conviction in her voice to assure him she meant what she was saying.

He couldn’t respond, at least not with words. Very slowly, very gently, Spike reached out a hand to cup her face. Her eyes closed as he brought them together, his lips to her forehead and his body close to hers. They stayed like that, until Rupert’s throat clearing broke them apart.

Giles had watched their whole exchange, unwilling to disturb the moment. Luckily for all of them, Wesley had confirmed that he was traveling alone and he would be staying for a couple of days.

“He’s coming alone” was all Giles needed to say. Buffy curled her arms around Spike’s waist, leaning into his embrace. He felt the strain ease from her body as she breathed heavily against his chest, which released his own tension.

Giles seen her with other boyfriends, but he’d never witnessed such a moment.


******************************** ****************************************

They’d walked the rest of the way home in near silence, hands clutched together and Giles beside them. It was a comfortable feeling, this unstated companionship. Buffy hadn’t quite made her peace with Giles over the events of last spring, at least not yet, but she was starting to think that, with him at least, the time apart had led to a bit of mutual understanding. It was unlike the emotions she was feeling toward Willow and Xander, but closer to what she was feeling for Spike. Eventually the words would have to be spoken between them, laying the ghosts of harsh words and even harsher actions to rest. But not tonight.

Tonight she needed this feeling. Tonight she needed to rest, safe within the circle of Spike’s arms, protected from all the outside forces.

Saying a quick goodbye to Giles, even with a small kiss on the cheek, Buffy waited at the bottom of the stairs for Spike to lock up the doors. Still quiet and subdued, she undressed then climbed into the bed snuggling into his waiting arms. Breathing against his skin, she closed her eyes and that’s when the tears started.

Holding her close, Spike just let her cry it out, unsure what it was she was crying over. He thought maybe she wasn’t even certain. Whatever it was ended just as suddenly as it started, and Buffy wiped her eyes, whispering a soft apology to him, which he just shrugged off, with a “no worries, sweetheart, happens.”

Their kisses started off slow, building beat by beat, breath by breath until neither one of them could stand being separated one second longer. Spike slid inside her, her legs wrapped around his hips, slowly grinding into her warmth. Their joining was as slow as their kisses, languorous and deep, the pace not changing but building, intensifying with every thrust they shared. Instead of slamming against each other, he slid excruciatingly slowly and hard into her welcoming depths. Buffy convulsed around him, the internal flutters signaling her orgasm beginning. Her inner muscles contracted around him hard, squeezing him.

She gasped, trying to find air, choking out, “Spike please, please come inside me now.”

Grunting he looked down at her “kitten . . . need. . . ..”

Thrusting again, Spike exploded within her. Pressing his cool body against her overheated one, Spike gathered her in his arms, holding on for the rest of the night.


******************************** ***************************************

There probably existed a good number of reasons why he should be trying to separate Buffy from Spike, but every time he thought of that, images of the pair of them tonight surfaced in his head. From the earliest moment this morning, facing down Xander and then how they were tonight, just reinforced the thought that he wouldn’t, couldn’t do anything to hurt either of them. And, knowing how Buffy had reacted over Dawn, Giles knew if he tried, she would shut him out completely.

But the real truth was, and here was the kicker, Giles had lied to Spike this morning. He’d told him he would never be good enough. The truth was, of all Buffy’s significant others, Spike was the one he liked best. But he’d never ever admit to that.

His life was just one big serving of irony of late.

So not only was he going to not undermine their relationship, Giles was going to support them in any way possible. And if that included neutralizing Xander, well so be it.

Satisfied, Giles settled in for a long night of interesting reading.


******************************** ***************************************

It felt like they had waited the whole day for Wesley to arrive. It had been a decidedly normal day, filled with loads of laundry and television watching and hours just waiting.

Buffy had only told Tara that Wesley was coming, since she’d taken to avoiding Wilow. No one at Revello heard from Xander, but given the events of the previous morning, there wasn’t one of them that missed him.


******************************** ***************************************

Dinner was long over with and Spike was making noises about heading out for patrol, trying to get Buffy to go with him, when the call finally came. As Spike reached for the phone, Buffy stole a throw pillow and the remote from Dawn, while Tara watched.

“Right” was all Spike said.

“C’mon goldielocks, we’re summoned.”

Dawn looked up, catching the look on her sister’s face and then noting Spike’s determined air. “Can I come?”

“Don’t even know where we’re goin’ Nib, why would you wanna come?”

“Duh, Spike, only one person summons either of you. So it’s either the shop or his apartment. Please?”

Not seeing the harm, Spike just shrugged. Buffy’s only answer was to sigh and say, “might as well,” and as they headed for the door, she looked at Tara, saying “aren’t you coming?”

Taken aback, Tara looked behind her, wondering who Buffy was talking to. “Me?”

“Yeah, you Glinda, let’s go.”

Grabbing the DeSoto keys, Spike was out the door.


******************************** ***************************************

Wesley and Giles were sharing a bottle of scotch when they all trooped in the door, Spike trailing behind the girls. The younger Englishman had stood up when Buffy came in the door, a look of complete bafflement on his face. Giles had opted not to say anything, instead letting the younger man discover her miraculous return.

Looking around wild-eyed, Wesley nearly dropped his drink. “Buffy?”

“Hey Wes. Long time.” Buffy smiled at him, then perched on the couch arm, waiting for Spike to sit down. Instead he just stood behind her, his hands resting on her upper arms.

“It’s really . . . how?” Her reappearance had rendered him almost speechless.

“Long story mate. Settle down and we’ll tell it.” Spike motioned him back into his seat. And what followed had Wesley more than once scratching his head in disbelief. The only part of the recitation that was left out was where Buffy had been, but everything else, including her climb from the grave was recounted. When they were done, Wesley sat in his chair absolutely stunned.

“Lethe’s Bramble? You do know in the wrong quantity it can be deadly.” At some of the looks that were returned, that obviously had’t been discussed yet.

“You do realize its only been just over a week since Buffy’s come back to us.” Giles was the first to speak.

“Oh dear. No, I hadn’t.” Directing his first comments to her, Wesley asked, “are you feeling any better?”

Reaching up a hand to clasp one of Spike’s Buffy answered him, “I’m doing lots better” and surprising them all, added, “nearly ready to patrol again, just not alone all the time. Hopefully,” and this time she looked over her shoulder, “I’ll have a partner.”

To which Spike couldn’t resist kissing the top of her head. “Say the word kitten, wherever, whenever.”

Which surprised no one but the ex-watcher. Wesley was taken aback. No wonder information flow from Sunnydale was a hot topic, there was so much going on here that it boggled his mind, and he knew everyone, how much more astounding it must be to a Council member who’d never met them.

“And Willow did this all on her own?”

“Yes. She hid everything, confided in no one.” Giles was finding it increasingly hard to keep his emotions in check when discussing the wayward redhead.

“Dangerous Rupert. No telling what she’s capable of now.” Realizing her girlfriend was in the room, Wesley apologized. “I’m sorry Tara.”

Ducking her head, the girl just nodded. Dawn, who was sitting beside her and up till now had been strangely silent, hugged her.

An uneasy silence settled over the group, until Spike broke it. “Rupert says you’ve some information for us. Out with it then.”

“Right. As I told Rupert last night, I recently heard something I found disturbing from two different sources. My father, during our last phone call, let slip about a video he’d seen of Spike patrolling alone.” He let that sink in, then continued, “and more recently I learned from someone at Wolfram & Hart about surveillance at the hellmouth.”

Dawn piped up “who’s Wolfram & Hart?”

“Not who, what.” Giles started answering, but stopped when Wesley continued.

“It’s a law firm with demonic origins and more than a finger in many pies.” He sighed, finishing up with “for the last year or so they’ve been attempting to . . . . bait Angel into . . . well, into darker pursuits.”

“Lovely” was Giles’ comment, while Spike just tightened his grip on Buffy while Tara looked confused.

“How do you bait a souled vampire?” Dawn didn’t realize how much like a stupid joke that sounded until everyone else chuckled.

“On a hook Niblet” was Spike’s half-chuckled answer.

But Buffy wasn’t really laughing. “What did they do?”

“They managed to bring Darla back.

“What?”

“Oh, that she-bitch?” Spike’s voice was loudest, and poor Tara just said “who?”

Spike quickly re-capped who and what Darla was, unaware of Buffy’s history with her, until “she tried to kill me. She was the first that really dared to target me.”

Suppressing a shudder, Buffy shifted closer to Spike, looking for and finding protection.

“Why’d they bring her back?” Was Tara’s question.

“I believe they hoped to duplicate what had happened here in Sunnydale, between Buffy and Angel.”

Without consciously thinking about it, Spike enfolded her in his arms, her back firmly against his chest. One hand wrapped around a solid forearm while the other reached for Dawn.

Wesley blinked, unsure what his eyes were seeing.

 

36. Through a glass darkly.

Signs cannot be represented, in a spy’s report, so damningly as words.
Stendhal, The Red and the Black, ch. XXVII

Each friend represents a world in us; a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only in meeting them that a new world is born.
Anais Nin



Willow woke up to find the house empty and pitch dark. She was so tired, exhausted, even her bones ached. Every muscle in her body protested and her eyes were all crusted over. Her mouth felt like little men with fuzzy slippers had left them around her teeth and her belly was screaming for sustenance.

Getting up, she glanced at the clock. Blinking at it in disbelief, she wiped her eyes. No way. It couldn’t possibly be that late. She’d only gone up to take a quick nap while Tara made dinner. She couldn’t possibly have slept nearly four hours.

Nope, stupid clock still said nine twenty-seven. What the heck? Hadn’t anyone tried waking her? Willow wandered out into the hallway, straining for sounds of anyone else being home. The house was eerily silent.

Following the instincts of her grumbling belly, Willow wandered into the kitchen. Tara had propped a note against a prepared plate, telling her nothing more than the other four had gone out and would be back later. There was also a bit about how she’d tried waking her a couple of times, but Willow hadn’t woken up.

Well that’s just . . . phooey, Willow thought, feeling just out of sorts. Lifting the foil off the plate, she scrunched up her nose. Veggies and chicken and good stuff. Wiggling her fingers, Willow got nothing more than a weird tingly feeling, like accidently sticking your finger in a socket or when static electricity hits but nothing else. The plate didn’t even heat up. Trying again, Willow didn’t even get that sensation.

Aggravated at herself now, Willow tried again. Still nothing. Getting short-tempered, she grabbed the plate and nearly flung it into the microwave.

This was not fair. Shouldn’t be drained like this, magic was kind of – self-generating, you either had the power or didn’t. While the microwave whirred behind her, she wondered if maybe trying to, well not so much with the trying as doing, she corrected her thoughts, she had done a lot, moved all the park stuff around, rearranging everything and best of all, making the moon dance in the sky. That had been cool.

Lost in the moment of remembrance, Willow didn’t hear the microwave beep or the phone ring, in fact she didn’t register anything until she heard the tail end of Angel’s message, but by then she was focused on trying to remember exactly what she had done in order to get the moon to move.

Whirling around, Willow nearly stumbled and fell. She was tired and hungry, almost beyond hungry. Her belly felt like it was scraping against her backbone. Suddenly remembering the food in the microwave, Willow made her way over to it. That’s all this was, her body needed food and rest and then, tomorrow she’d be just fine and dandy. Just needed nutrients and rest.

Without thought of taste or temperature, Willow scarfed down the leftovers then trudged back up the stairs. Idly glancing at the clock again, she noted it was nine forty-three as her head hit the pillow.


******************************** ***************************************

For perhaps the third time this evening, Wesley was rendered speechless. It was beginning to become something of a pattern. He thought he had a permanent look of confusion on his features.

The active slayer was holding onto Spike while clutching her sister’s hand. Looking furtively at Giles, Wesley realized this was not a surprise to anyone but him. Best keep his . . . questions to a minimum.

“Don’t think he’d make Sunnyhell his first stop pet” was Spike’s softly worded reassurance.

Giles and Buffy were both shaking their heads, but it was the watcher who spoke first. “He would seek out those he knows are capable of defeating him and restoring his soul. Which puts more than a few of us in harm’s way.”

“But he’s not all evil right?” Dawn’s voice sounded scared, which made sense, because the monks had implanted a memory of Angelus kidnaping her along with Giles.

“No, he held on, though it was a near thing.” Wesley stared down into his glass of scotch. “Not before he allowed Darla and Drusilla to take out half the senior management of Wolfram & Hart.”

“This before or after he nearly burned them to a crisp?” That night came back sharply for both of them, but instead of pulling away, Buffy settled closer into his embrace, letting go her sister’s hand. Leaning forward, Spike whispered something in Buffy’s ear, to which she rolled her eyes and hissed at him, but the whole time she had a soft private little smile.

“So we don’t have to worry about evil ex-boyfriends do we?” Was Tara’s query, pulling everyone’s attention back to the discussion.

“No. We don’t.” Giles took off his glasses, thinking hard. “What we do have to worry about is an invasion of our privacy. I would imagine the shop is the primary location, while in all likelihood they may have limited surveillance on our homes.”

“Haven’t been by the crypt for anything longer than to pick up weapons in weeks, so the place is probably safe, only because its not being used.” Spike shrugged a bit, breaking away from Buffy to pace.

“What about here?” Buffy wasn’t happy with any part of this discussion, nor with Spike moving away.

“I did a sweep earlier, before Wesley got here, everything was clear, except for those.” And he gestured at the two little devices in the water glass. “They appear to be listening devices and I didn’t find a video feed, so I would imagine they haven’t attempted that yet.”

Wesley continued, “hopefully your house is safe, because it is privately owned, but we should assume that Xander’s apartment is wired.”

Spike was muttering under his breath about interfering wankers and his agitation was growing. “How do we keep ‘em from finding out we know before we strike?”

“How do we find all these devices?” Was Buffy’s question.

“Well, I’ve brought some counter-measures with me, not to mention you do have some fairly powerful magics at your disposal.” Wesley leaned forward in his chair and for the first time, everyone noticed the boxes of supplies at his feet and piled beside him. “I’ll teach you how to look for cameras and bugs and how to short circuit the signals for brief periods, so that it all looks accidental.”

“That’s good. But we need to know who is supplyin’ the wankers with the pictures.” Spike stopped pacing, looking at the other two men. “Gotta protect the girls, can’t have them goin’ after Niblet or Glinda, ‘s not right.”

“Hey – girl here!” Buffy pouted at him and Spike scowled playfully at her. Brushing a kiss against her temple, he pulled her close, “beautiful one too, but you can protect yourself, they can’t.”

And he whispered something else in her ear that had her melting against his chest, her eyes suddenly misty.

Silence reigned for a little bit, then Giles said, “what was the other reason you called Wesley?”

“Right” clearing his throat and tearing his eyes away from the two blonds, Wesley stole a glance at Dawn and then spoke. Giles had told him something of the girl’s origins and the implantation of memories by the monks, as a means of enlisting his help should something come to light in the course of his work. Well, it had, but Wesley suddenly realized that this information he brought with him might just change the course of their lives. He didn’t know exactly what was contained in the texts, but he knew enough to know they might be the very same monks that had given the key form after protecting it from Glorificus for centuries.

“Recently some old texts were acquired from a . . . . well a group of monks that all perished recently.”

Everyone’s attention riveted on him. Flushing under the focus of so many eyes, Wesley shifted in his seat.

“Texts?”

“Monks?”

“Acquired how?”

Were all flung in the air, from differing voices and Wesley tried to answer each one.

“The texts, some scrolls, some books and a few private journals of some of the brethren were acquired by Wolfram & Hart just recently. Their rarities collection is quite extensive and they must spend millions.”

“Focus Wesley, back to the subject.” Buffy interrupted him, more than passingly familiar with the bookworm gleam in his eyes. Kind of reminded her of Giles.

“Sorry. Well then.” Shifting his attention back, he continued, “I’m not quite certain how the texts came into the possession of Wolfram & Hart, but they did. And when my contact gloatingly informed me of such, I . . . . liberated them.”

He had the grace to look sheepish until Spike and Giles both laughed out loud. “Means you stole them from underneath their noses.”

“In a manner of speaking . . . . from . . . from one point of view, perhaps.” He was visibly embarrassed, a fact which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Don’t go all missish on us now Wes. Proud of you. Bloody good job. Lifting priceless texts from Evil Inc., must’ve been right fun.” Spike was enjoying both the revelation and the idea of stuffed shirt going all pink panther.

“Stop teasing him. Its not nice.” And it would’ve worked if Buffy hadn’t been laughing softly.

“Um, Buffy, these are my monks?” Dawn was . . . uncomfortable and strangely excited. Maybe, just . . . could these books have the information she needed? It was probably in them somewhere. Just one . . . that’s all she needed, just one of them to have what she was looking for. She was almost afraid to hope, but it had to be there, they must have kept records of something as important as the key, since they were the ones guarding it. Turning wide eyes on her sister and Spike, and then Giles, Dawn tried again.

“They are the ones that . . . right?”

Instead of answering her, Buffy opened her arms to hold her tight. Raising her eyes to Spike over Dawn’s head, Buffy’s held a question and a need.

Knowing how fragile his slayer was, and knowing, too, that this was a hard subject for Dawn, Spike came round the couch and sunk down on his haunches facing the sisters.

“Niblet?” He reached out a hand, brushing away her hair.

“Just tell me its them . . . the ones that made me.”

It was Wesley’s voice, that sounded in the room, though, not Spike’s but it was his arms that she clung too.

“It appears that way.”

Dawn buried her face against Buffy’s shoulder, holding tight onto Spike’s hands.

Her origins were in those texts, she knew it. She just had to find them.
 

37. A little bit of angelshine

Every form of life is in its origin not natural, but divine and human; for it must spring from love, just as there can be no reason without spirit.
Friedrich Von Schlegel, Idea 91 in Selected Ideas

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
the shooting-stars attend thee,
and the elves also,
whose little eyes glow
like sparks of fire, befriend thee.
Robert Herrick, The Night Piece to Julia



After Wesley’s second revelation of the night, Spike had gathered his little family and herded them home.

They all needed time to think.

No doubt Rupert was already itching to get into the texts, and he had a feeling Dawn was going to get snippy if they refused her access. Way he figured it, she deserved to know, and it shouldn’t be kept from her. He just didn’t think she should be alone while she looked. Someone should be there with her.

He also didn’t like the idea of her finding out she wasn’t . . . from the people she thought she was. Yeah, they’d planted the memories of her being Joyce’s, but what if she wasn’t?

Glancing in his rear-view mirror, Spike watched Dawn for a moment. She was quiet, watching the dark night roll by, her mind miles and miles away. Looking sideways at Buffy, he could see that she too was a million miles away. Reaching out with his right hand, Spike hooked it around her thigh. “All right kitten?”

Instead of answering, she moved closer, snuggling up against his arm, humming softly.

Tara too was quiet. All of his girls were lost in thought.

Breaking the silence, Spike said, “no one goes out alone, even in daylight. No one.”

If he’d been expecting an argument, he would’ve been severely disappointed. The three girls just murmured agreements. Apparently Wesley’s announcement they were being watched and videoed bothered all of them.

Hallefuckinglujah.

Spike figured it was the last time he’d ever get all of them to agree to his suggestions, especially Buffy. Girl was nothing if not stubborn.

They pulled into the driveway, silence reigning in the car. No one moved, until Dawn said “do you think that the house is bugged?” Then, “yuck. What if they have cameras in our rooms or . . . . eeeeeeewwwwwww in the bathroom?”

Buffy turned wild eyes to Spike, while Tara made a noise in the back.

“Don’t think we have to worry, ‘bout cameras rolling, probably jus’ recording devices. Should be okay.”

“Nahuh” Dawn was freaking. “Not going. I’ll sleep out here.”

“Niblet, c’mon. Don’t think they’ve gotten inside the house to plant cameras.” Spike was being patient, but Dawn’s worry was spilling over to the other two.

When Tara started to speak, Spike slapped a hand against the steering wheel. “All bloody right. I’ll go. I’ll look. If I find anything I’ll spray it, right?”

Reaching under his seat for a can of black spray paint, Spike kicked open his door and strode angrily for the front door. He really wasn’t angry with the girls more like the entire situation. He didn’t necessarily relish the idea of people watching him, taping his every movement during the day, and he could only imagine what the girls must be thinking about all of this. Yeah, he was angry, but he’d rather not take it out on the girls. They didn’t deserve this. Truly, none of them did.

Taking his time, he looked around before entering the house. As he’d suspected, there was one outside the door, aimed in, to log arrivals and departures. Leaving that one alone, Spike entered. Going methodically from room to room, he searched the whole house.

And got more and more angry with each inspection.

There were four cameras on the first floor.

One in the hallway.

One in each bedroom.

Spike sprayed around each one, gumming up the works but not touching the lenses. Hoping the wankers had gotten a good show, he cursed softly and at length. At last he came to Buffy’s room. He was not going to be happy if he found anything in here. For himself he almost didn’t care, but he knew Buffy would be upset.

Going over her room carefully, Spike found nothing. Which was good, but disturbing. Good because they hadn’t been in the house recently, and disturbing because the lack indicated that surveillance had been in place since just after Buffy died.

Heading back out to the car, Spike decided whoever it was doing the spying was going to die.


******************************* ****************************************

Giles gave Wesley fifteen minutes before the questions started. He knew they were coming, knew there was a queue of them lining up in the other man’s mind, just waiting for the opportunity to spill out. It wasn’t all that late, but Wesley had driven for a couple of hours, then had the shock of a lifetime so he didn’t figure Wesley would be wasting much time.

“Giles? “ Wesley looked up from perusing his almost empty glass of scotch to face the older man. There was a look of infinite patience on his face, which Wesley took as a sign to go ahead and ask those questions.

“How is she really?” It actually wasn’t the first question on his mind, but it was one of the pressing ones.

“A lot better than when she first returned. We’ve still no idea what dimension Willow pulled her from. When she . . . . when Spike first found her, she was unable to speak and he said she looked starved.” And, Giles added mentally, hadn’t looked much better when he’d first seen her hours later.

“Spike mentioned that he found her. I would imagine it was a bit of a shock for both of them.” Fidgeting with his glass, he continued, “Buffy appears a bit skittish.”

Was more of an observation than a question, but Giles felt compelled to respond in any case. “I’m taking it as a positive sign that she will accept and initiate physical contact with anyone. Her first couple of days back she shied away from nearly everyone.”

“A bit understandable. She seems to be comfortable around Spike.” He stared pointedly at Giles, waiting for confirmation of what his observations had led him to surmise.

Well, Giles thought, might as well start here and now. If I’m going to do this, support them, then it means with everyone – especially outsiders, people like the man in front of him for one. “It is rather understandable. Spike has . . . . done more for her in the last few months than anyone.” Giles waited a moment, letting that sink in, then added his own thoughts on the matter. “He took a beating for the sake of Dawn, at the hands of Glory that, well, had he been a lesser man, it would have killed him or, at the very least, broken him. He withstood abuse that I have personally never before witnessed. And,” he took a deep breath, “he never once gave Glory the information she was looking for.”

“He protected Dawn.” This was something he hadn’t heard. “When did this happen?”

“Shortly after Joyce passed away. It was, I believe a turning point.” Giles thought back, realizing his words were the actual truth. Spike’s beating had been a turning point, it marked the instant when both he and Buffy had started taking Spike seriously, and not just thinking of him as a pest.

“After he did that, instead of running and leaving us to face Glory alone, he stayed, fought beside us, no hesitation within him at all about it. Buffy asked for his help and Spike came through.” Giles left out most of the details, they weren’t all that important. “I honestly am not certain how we would have gotten through the summer without him. He patrolled, most nights alone, took care of Dawn and generally redeemed himself right before my eyes.”

“All this without a soul.” Wesley got up, heading to the bottle of scotch Giles had left on the counter. “Amazing.”

“I’m coming to realize that Spike is a . . . unique. And that perhaps, in his case, having or not having a soul might be immaterial.” Going back over some of Spike’s prior actions, as he’d done more than once over the past few weeks, Giles was convinced something in Spike’s make-up set him apart from other vampires, set him apart even from Angel. It was as far as Giles was willing to go. Anything else he had to say should be said first to Spike and secondly to Buffy.

Wesley was about to say something else when the phone rang.


******************************* ***************************************


He’d escorted the girls inside, closing and locking the door behind him as he made his way through the house once more. Double checking the back door, Spike saw the light blinking on the answering machine and thought about ignoring it. Dawn and Tara had headed up the stairs, but Buffy was waiting for him, sitting on the bottom step. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he knew the girls had to be exhausted.

Hitting the play button on the machine, Spike did a double take when Angel’s voice sounded in the darkness.

At first he didn’t listen to the message, his aggravation blocking the words. Exasperated with himself, Spike hit replay, this time determined to listen. As the machine cycled back to the beginning, Buffy wandered into the kitchen. She stopped, hearing the voice and the in
nocuous message, then kept walking toward where Spike stood leaning against the stove. Without hesitation, Buffy walked right into his chest, pushing her way forward, forcing his arms to circle around her.

“Think he’s just checking?” Her voice was muffled against his chest, but he heard her clearly.

“Dunno pet.” He didn’t want to get into the tangled complexities that made up his relationship or non-relationship with Angel anytime soon. There wasn’t much love lost between them, and no doubt the girl in his arms would further complicate things.

“I meant it earlier, you know. I don’t want to see him.” She nuzzled her face against his chest.

“Have to face him sooner or later.” Whether he meant alone or not never came up, because as the message ended, Spike reached for the phone hitting Giles’ speed dial number.

“Rupert. Angel called looking for Oxford. Let ‘im know papa wants to make sure his chick is safe and sound in Sunnyhell.” Buffy never moved from his arms, her own wrapped around his waist, as she held onto him. “Right. Taken care of.”

A pause while Giles said something, then “we’ll suss it out in the morning.”

He hung up, absently resting his hand on her shoulder. “Watcher figures Angel is being nosey. Won’t come with Oxford, but will call jus’ to make sure. Bloody ass. Mus’ think we’re all stupid. Like he doesn’t know Oxford’s cell number . . . “ Spike’s voice drifted off into nothing as Buffy slid her hands underneath his tee shirt.

“What’s with the sudden Oscar?”

“Who?” Spike was confused.

“You know, Oscar the grouch. . . . mean little green guy, lives in a garbage can? Furry green . . . “ there was a touch of amusement in her voice now, as her fingers made swirly patterns on his lower back.

“No sunshine, don’t know.” Unconsciously, he began bunching up her shirt, sliding his thumbs inside her jeans waistband.

“It’s a kid show, sesame . . . never mind.” Pausing a second, Buffy looked up at him. “Angel, right?” Was all she said, was all she needed to say.

They both knew it was because of the phone call Buffy just wondered if he was going to admit it. When he did finally speak it wasn’t exactly what she’d expected.

“He was here, y’know. After. Dunno who told him the bad news, but by then I was half living here – Niblet wouldn’t stop crying – near two days before Tara sent Rupert to come get me – we hadn’t . . . . put you to rest.” Tightening his arms around her, then breaking away, Spike sat her down on one of the stools, then began pacing around the small kitchen. “Poofter, Oxford and the cheerleader all show up, night before, wanting to know why I was here, like I was less than them. Giles gave Angel what for – askin’ him if he’d give up LA to stay here and protect Dawn – bloody jackass couldn’t say yes. Couldn’t even answer ‘im.”

He kicked the stove, “not even for your m’mory would he do it. Watcher said he didn’t trust him – tha’ he trusted me to protect her, like you did.” He didn’t, wouldn’t look at her. “An ‘n all this time, knowin’ you were gone . . . knowin’ money was tight . . . knowin’ Dawn was all alone, that bleedin’ son of a bitch ne’er once called, not even to be nosey.”

Spike stared out the window, not seeing anything, unaware he’d started crying. “And now you’re here. Safe ‘n one piece, an’ now the opportunistic bastard calls? Now he wants to know how we are? Jus’ because Oxford comes to visit?”

His clenched fist rested against the counter, poised to pound into the counter top. Still he wouldn’t look at her. “So much for . . . . god, there were nights, when only thing keepin’ me from waitin’ for the sunrise was my promise to you. Only thing keepin’ me on m’feet after battlin’ to keep her safe. . . . “

His voice fell into a harsh whisper. “Jus’ don’t wanna lose you kitten. Jus’ got you back . . . . can’t . . . “ his voice was so low now that Buffy strained to hear it. “Can’t go back to before – before . . . . need you kitten, don’t . . . want to lose you again.”

When her arms came round his waist, one hand reaching for his clenched fist, Spike jumped, moving to wipe his face, to hide his tears from her. Her warm fingers pushed hard against the outside of his fist, easing away some of the tension. Almost of their own accord, his fingers opened, then his hand rotated, so their fingers entwined, clasped together. Urging him wordlessly to turn around, Buffy reached up with her other hand to wipe away his drying tears.

Her words were just as soft as his had been and just as full of emotion. “Angel left me . . . never once asking me what I wanted or needed. He always gave up too quickly. Riley wasn’t any better. Wanting me to be something I wasn’t, couldn’t be. Neither one gave me a choice -- they decided what was best.”

When he started to speak, she placed a finger over his lips, just holding them closed. “Now its my turn to choose. My turn to . . . if I wanted Angel, I would’ve called him, told him I was back. If I wanted Riley, I’d find a way to get to him.”

Opening her arms wide, she looked into his eyes. “ Who do you see here? Spike . . . you . . . the one thing I know for sure is, you won’t leave, probably not even if I asked you too. You’d stay then, pestering me, wearing me down until I took you back.”

Taking a deep breath, Buffy said, “I need you. I need you, Spike, not Angel, not Riley – you. I want you . . . here, with me, as part of my life.”

So it wasn’t those three words, not yet, but, Spike thought as he swept her up into his arms, didn’t mean they weren’t there waiting to be said.

 

38. Preparedness prevents peril.

Let us presently go sit in council,
how covert matters may be best disclosed
and open perils surest answered
Julius Caesar, act 4, sc 1

“Danger! What danger do you foresee?”
Holmes shook his head gravely, “It would cease to be a
danger if we could define it.” said he.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, (Watson and Holmes) “The Adventure of the Copper Beeches”


Having spent part of the early morning while the girls were all asleep stripping wires and neutralizing the recording equipment on the first floor, Spike was reasonably certain that the house was once again secure. After discussing it briefly with Buffy, they had decided together that leaving the one camera, the one aimed at the front door, was the lesser of all evils. After double checking one last time, making sure he’d gotten all the cameras and bugs, Spike headed up the stairs to finally get into bed with Buffy.

He stopped short, with his pants almost half off, when he realized Buffy wasn’t alone. At some point, while he had been downstairs working, Dawn had crawled into bed with her. Half-hopping about, his foot stuck in the leg of his jeans, Spike swore, nearly falling on the two sleeping girls. The noise woke Buffy up and she sleepily giggled at his predicament.

“Go ahead and laugh missy.”

Sitting up, she giggled more, finally catching sight of his dilemma. He was half laying on the bed, one foot caught in the jeans, completely exposed to the gaze of anyone in the room. Tossing one end of the light blanket over him Buffy got out of bed. Grabbing a pair of sweats from the pile that Tara had given her earlier she watched while he struggled out of the jeans.

“Here” was all she said then leaned over to kiss his bare chest. Spike froze, his body instantly craving hers. He growled low and with a hint of a whine to it, reaching for her hand, as she pulled away from him.

“We can’t” was all she whispered at him, pointing at the still sleeping teenager.

Drawing on the sweats and standing in the same motion, Spike pulled her toward the door. “Can’t in here.” When she resisted, he picked her up, hooking his hands underneath her hips. “C’mon kitten, where’s it written we can only do this in a bed?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck and locking her ankles behind his back, Buffy leaned in to run little kisses around his chin. Spike worked his hands up to hold her around her lower back, his fingers splayed wide against her skin. Every step he took brought his erection closer to her center, rubbing against the soft material of her shorts. He stopped, needing to kiss her, at the same time grinding his erection hard against her. She wiggled closer, unconsciously sliding her hips up and down, whimpering when he started to walk again.

The first step down jarred her clit against him hard, and Buffy arched up against him, desperate to hold on. His hands had slipped down inside her shorts, cupping the globes of her ass tightly. They were both gasping for air, little noises emerging from their throats, echoing softly in the close hallway. The trip down the stairs nearly ended in a heap when halfway down, the first of Buffy’s orgasms rippled through her and Spike nearly faltered when she clenched her legs tight around his hips. His name hissing from between her lips, her fingers digging hard into the muscles in his shoulders, Buffy writhed against him, as they teetered on the stairs. Regaining his balance, Spike stepped down hard purposely, watching the look on her face.

The rest of the trip to the first floor was a blur – surrounded by her heat, her feel, her scent, Spike was drowning. Drunk on all of her. His step lurched sideways down each riser reeling from the sensations. She affected him like no one else he’d ever met, human or otherwise, not even Drusilla had captivated him this way. He wanted to bury his erection inside her, slide into her and never let go. To crawl inside her skin, stay there warm inside her forever.

Reaching the bottom step, Spike nearly dropped her again as his feet hit the floor too soon, expecting another step down. Buffy clutched him tighter, almost crawling up his body, a second orgasm rippling as his cock rammed hard against her clit.

“Ssspppiiikkkee.”

And that was it, he could go no further without being inside her. Forcing his hands down, Spike ripped apart the soft material shielding her. Letting the now useless rags drop to the floor, he lifted her higher, wriggling his hips to try and get at least partially out of his sweats.

The tip of his cock peeked over the seam, seeking her wet heat, his mouth on hers, devouring her. One handed he half pushed the sweats down, just enough to free himself and let her slide onto his straining cock.

“Gggaaaaahhhh.” He groaned into her mouth, tightening his hold on her ass. “Wet . . . drenched. . . god.”

Somehow he made it into the kitchen, Buffy hanging on, impaled on his cock. He didn’t need to thrust, just walking while embedded in her depths, rubbing against her clit, was enough. Slamming against the basement door, Spike cursed a blue streak then thrust in and out, keeping them both teetering on the knife’s edge.

The rest of the way down the stairs to his room was vague, hazed by the sensations. He held off coming by reciting Latin declensions in his head, something he hadn’t needed to do in nearly a hundred years, while Buffy whimpered and moaned in his arms, gritting her teeth every time he bumped against her clit.

Finally reaching the bedside, Spike raised his knee and Buffy shrieked at the contact, which released the tenuous grip he had on his control. Not loosening his hold on her, Spike began thrusting, driving into her hard. Buffy had nothing to hold on to except him. It was over in instants.

Dropping down onto the bed, their bodies still entwined, they jolted through another series of orgasms, both of them shaking from the force. Rolling over onto his back, Spike didn’t let go of Buffy, pulling her over to rest on his chest. Her chest was heaving, her body shook by small tremors racing through her muscles. His breathing started to match hers and he could feel the beats of her heart slow down and then settle. Buffy was covered in a light sheen of sweat and Spike inhaled deeply, thinking he’d never get used to this. The after . . . when she was putty in his arms, content to just lay there against him, every curve of her body melting into the angles of his. His right hand came up to run lightly down her back and it was only then that he realized she was still wearing the tank top. A soft chuckle rang through the air, and she mumbled something incoherently against his skin.

“Sleep kitten” he rumbled at her, brushing a kiss against the top of her head. She was already more than halfway there, but her arm came round to hold onto him, as she nuzzled a soft kiss into his chest.

Spike closed his eyes, content to just lay there, holding her.


******************************** ***************************************

Tara was the first one up. She was still tired, restless from another night spent tossing and turning, trying to sleep next to an oblivious Willow. She didn’t understand the redhead anymore, didn’t understand what was happening between them. Didn’t know if she could fix things or even if she wanted to. She’d been thinking hard, for the last couple of days, in and around life that just kept happening around her thoughts. Willow’s display yesterday preparing their breakfast was probably the single most disturbing thing she’d ever seen. And that was saying a lot, especially since this was the hellmouth.

Demons, vampires, werewolves, witches, they were all in some way easier to deal with than inanimate objects floating around in the air becoming breakfast before her very eyes. She’d told the three other adults, trying not to “tell tales”, but out of genuine concern for her girlfriend. What bothered her most, was Willow’s inability to understand she’d done anything wrong. Okay, so maybe she could concede that fixing breakfast wasn’t really harmful, but all in all, it wasn’t any easier or faster. It still took time and energy, just maybe a different method, but the ends were still the same. Breakfast got put on the table.

No, what really, truly deeply disturbed her was what Willow had done to her and Dawn, and her complete disregard for their feelings, their thoughts and really, their persons. Leaving what she’d done for Buffy out of the equation, Willow had stripped both Dawn and herself of a basic human right. They were thinking, feeling beings, and they had free will. Willow had stolen that from both of them.

Willow had broken one of the basic covenants of Wiccan practice. The fact that she’d done so to rescue Buffy was almost . . . . in Tara’s mind that was the problem. She knew Dawn would have risked anything to get her sister back. Same with Giles and Spike. And, if she were completely honest with herself – balancing the scales, she’d probably be willing to do almost anything also. But Willow never should have just assumed that. She should have asked.

Once again, Willow had done something without really thinking it through, unconcerned about the consequences. And like Spike had said, and she agreed, there were always consequences. Always some sort of payment.

Heading down toward the kitchen to start breakfast, Tara found Buffy’s shorts shredded in the hallway just at the bottom of the stairs. Staring down at the remnants of her summer pajamas, Tara looked up toward the top of the stairs, then gingerly peeked into the living room. Breathing a sigh of relief that ended in a knowing little giggle, Tara shook her head, continuing on her way into the kitchen.

One thing about living here, life was never dull. There was always something new and strange to look forward too.


******************************** ***************************************

Footsteps overhead and a stirring woman in his arms finally woke him. Buffy stretched beside him slowly coming awake. Spike was tempted to just fall back into sleep, when an unfamiliar, heavier tread shook the floor above him. Listening hard to the noises above them, Spike hoped it was the watchers west invading his territory, because if it was the whelp, he was feeling in the mood to shove his nose in that judgmental shit he’d been tossing around earlier.

Not that he’d expected much better from the boy, but Buffy didn’t deserve the kind of shit he’d been sending her way. Spike didn’t understand the lack of tolerance nor the complete inconsideration for the girl’s feelings. Christ, she’d only been back, from what they thought was a hell dimension, just over a week. . . . and the whelp expected her to just jump right back into being herself. . . . did any of these people actually know this girl? Did any of them pay attention to anyone but their own selves?

Spike rolled over, resting his head on his elbow, watching Buffy going through her waking up ritual. He didn’t know about before, but now, she would get this little scrunch to her face, stretching out like a little kitten then cuddling back into a little ball. Lately, she’d taken to nuzzling up against him, holding on while her situation crashed back. He knew it bothered her, being here, facing life, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Spike was going to do everything in his power to keep her here, with him, to keep her safe for as long as possible. And if that meant working with Rupert Giles or Xander Harris or even, Angel, Spike would do it. Hell, he’d even consider working with Riley Finn if it would keep her safe. Realizing the train of his thoughts, Spike bit back a growl. Probably draw the line at the last two.

Watching her swim toward wakefulness, he came to a hard truth. He loved her. Oh, he’d said it often enough, but now, in the quiet, watching her come awake in his bed, he realized just how deep that feeling ran within him. There probably wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. He’d already gone against his natural inclination – patrolling for her memory – taking care of her sister. And yeah, if it came down to it, he probably would swallow his pride and work with Angel or Finn.

Reaching out a hand, he cupped the side of her face, running his thumb across her cheek. His voice was low and gentle, but he wasn’t saying the words for her to hear them, he was saying them because he needed to say it. He needed to say out loud . . . “would do anything to keep you safe, Buffy, anything.”


******************************** *****************************************


Tara had just finished her own breakfast when Giles and Wesley walked in the front door. Jumping up, she made somewhat nervous motions about fixing them something to eat, but Giles shooed her away, saying “I’m perfectly capable of finding my way around this kitchen. Sit and relax.”

Running water into the kettle and bypassing the overly sugary cereal choices, Giles vainly looked around for something not so juvenile. Settling on the discarded donuts from the day before, he inquired “Buffy and Spike up yet?”

“Uh. . . um . . . no. I don’t think so.” Her eyes glanced toward the basement door. “I’ll get Spike.”

Opening the door just enough to slip through with a shy smile at both men, Tara only went halfway down the steps before she stopped and wrung her hands. “Spike? Buffy? Are you awake?”

“Yeah we are. We’ll be right up.” Instead of Spike answering, Buffy’s voice sounded sleepily as the sheets and blankets rustled.

A quiet giggle sounded in the air, making Tara smile. “Okay.”


******************************** ***************************************


They were dressed and up the stairs quickly. Spike was just buckling his belt when Buffy opened the door, brightly saying “morning Giles, Wes.”

He shook his head. Girl was always going to surprise him. Spike just tilted his head at the other two Englishmen, heading straight for the refrigerator. Buffy perched on one of the stools, a banana in one hand and a piece of Tara’s toast in the other. Waving the banana about, she said “what’s up guys?”

“We wanted to talk more about what we discussed last night.” Giles figured there was no time like the present.

“Right then, so talk.” Spike took one of the blood bags from the refrigerator and tossed it into the microwave.

Wesley stared at it, aware it was human blood and turned questioning eyes to the others.
Tara was the first to respond to the unasked query. “Spike got badly hurt the other night fighting the Cwn Annwn. Nearly lost his right hand.”

Spike opened a cabinet, finding none of his mugs then went toward the dishwasher. Without much thought, while he waited for the blood to heat, Spike started unloading the clean dishes. Wesley gaped at him a moment, not really certain he was watching William the Bloody perform domestic chores.

Catching sight of the look on Wesley’s face, Buffy giggled then brought them back to why they were invading her house at ten in the morning. “So what’s the what?”

“Yesterday when your sister encountered the Huntsman he said something to her, which she repeated” Giles realized they hadn’t really discussed this by the look on Buffy’s face, but continued, “as best she could. Wesley believes he’s translated a part of his message.”

“Rupert you didn’t tell us she had tea with the bugger.” Spike sipped his blood, gauging the level of Buffy’s aggravation.

“In all the concern about Wesley’s arrival and news, I thought we could wait until the morning.” Giles glanced from one to the other, understanding he was going to have to make up for the deliberate omission on his part.

Conceding the point for a moment, Spike let it go. Buffy wasn’t so forgiving, but waited silently. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to get into it with Giles in front of Wesley.

“So what’s the translation?”

“Word for word – it was ‘warnings from my lord. Red Willow is dangerous.’”

 

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