39. Grace in her frailty

Good news about someone never gets past the door,
but bad news will travel a thousand leagues away.
Chinese proverb

I well believe it, to unwilling ears;
none love the messenger who brings bad news.
Sophocles, Antigone

O fallen angel,
the companion within me,
whisper something holy
before you pinch me
Into the grave.
Anne Sexton, The Fallen Angels


Tara was really glad Giles had urged her to sit down. Because at this moment, her knees were weak and she wasn’t sure if her breathing . . .

Spike handed her a glass of water, standing over her until she started drinking it.

Buffy looked at Giles, eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation of everything.

Catching her look, Giles quickly filled them all in, including Wesley, about what had been going on, and more importantly, about Dawn’s encounter with the Huntsman and the pack.

He explained how Dawn had almost memorized what the Huntsman said, and then willingly let Giles record it. “Not recognizing the language readily, I asked Wesly this morning, who recognized it as . . . some form of Gaelic. It’s a sort of mix of some Welsh words, some Irish, some Scots. Which would make sense since the hounds are endemic to all of the Celtic peoples of the British Isles.”

Spike asked, “did you bring the tape?”

“I have it right here.” Giles pulled the small machine out of his pocket, placing it on the counter.

They all listened intently as Dawn’s voice filled the room, the unfamiliar consonants apparently rolling off her tongue easily.

After it finished, Wesley said “I’ve been unable to completely translate the beginning part.”

But Spike’s voice broke in, saying “She who guards the gates of space.” At everyone’s surprised looks he just shrugged. “Its either that or She who guards the walls of eternal evermore.”

Only Tara wasn’t looking at him strangely, having far more on her mind than Spike’s weird ability to speak various forms of Gaelic.

“Wha?” Looking at the other three completely floored faces arrayed before him, Spike tried for the innocent look.

Giles was the fist to recover, knowing not to underestimate the vampire. “Another hidden talent?”

Spike smirked at him, raising his scarred eyebrow. “Jus’ another in a long list, Watcher. What’s your excuse this time?”

“Gaelic wasn’t required reading at Oxford when I attended.”

“Wasn’t when I . . . “ and Spike shut up, abruptly realizing he was going to admit to something about his life before turning.

Giles was about to call him on the near admission, when Buffy interrupted “guys? What are we gonna do?”

She’d been watching the exchange, realizing for once, Giles had someone he could banter with and who could challenge him intellectually. It was nice to see, but a bit on the weird side. Kind of bizarre considering they were a watcher and a vampire, but somehow they’d formed a friendship, or at least the start of one. Both men fell silent, aware their joking argument wasn’t really timely. Tara was siting in her chair, staring down at her hands, which were clasped together on top of the counter. Her shoulders were stiff and she wouldn’t look at anyone else.

“Could . . . could you say that about Willow again?” Her voice was soft and hesitant, clearly upset.

Instead of answering, Wesley grabbed the recorder, hit rewind, then play. Finding the spot on the tape, Wesley raised the volume. Stopping after two words, “‘Earail bhuainn’ literally means ‘warnings from’.”

Hitting the play button again, Wesley repeated “‘mo tigherna’ is ‘my lord’.”

Repeating the procedure, Wesley said “‘ruadh Seileach’ is ‘red Willow’.”

And for the last time, Wesley spoke “‘eil gaueagh’ means ‘is dangerous’.”

Looking up at Spike for confirmation of Wesley’s translation, Tara’s face reflected the conflicted emotions running through her. Reacting to her look, Spike reached out for her, pulling her into his loose embrace.

That was all it took. Tara’s hold on her composure broke and she started crying into Spike’s chest. Buffy got up, running her hand down Tara’s back. Unconsciously linking her hands with Spike’s the two of them held Tara, letting her cry.

Waiting until she’d composed herself, Buffy spoke over the other girl’s head. “Giles I think we need to know everything now.”

Conceding the point, Giles removed his glasses and embarked upon an explanation of what he knew so far.

“Apparently the hounds were unleashed because of actions on the part of Willow during her retrieval spell for Buffy.” Continuing, Rupert looked down at his hands, then back up at everyone else. “The hounds normally retrieve souls destined for a hell dimension.”

“One of the words Dawn repeated translates as heaven.”

Buffy’s fingers tightened around Spike’s but she said nothing. He didn’t move, didn’t look at her, waiting to see if Giles was going to make a connection.

Giles went on to say, “but the Celts didn’t really differentiate between heaven and hell dimensions, the ancient ones anyway, but Christian mythos has invaded most Celtic legends to the point where the lines are very blurred.”

Wesley’s voice broke in, “it also appears, as near as I can figure, the Huntsman’s words refer to himself, as an emissary of those who guard heaven.”

“The real problem is the same sounding words, or similar sounding words can be interpreted differently depending on the language, and since its already an amalgam of all of them, I’m unsure which meaning is the correct one.”


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

He hadn’t slept well, an unusual occurrence for him. Xander couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep, well, whenever they weren’t working on averting an apocalypse.

Last night, watching Buffy and Spike he’d wanted to get up and leave. But he hadn’t. And he had no clue why he’d stayed.

Xander was trying to think, trying to come to grips with why Buffy was allowing Spike to be part of her life, why Buffy seemed to want Spike around. The guy was annoying, sarcastic, a thief . . . there really wasn’t any redeeming quality to the guy at all. At least Angel had a soul, something Spike didn’t have, and the chip didn’t count. All it did was prevent physical action on his part, but, he thought as he winced at the pain in his cheek, not always.

So why did Buffy want Spike around?

Okay, he was strong. He could more than hold his own against another demon, anything not human. Was that it?

No. Because when it came down to it, Spike was a vampire and vampires were not good.

The only good vampire was a staked vamp.

Another thing that bugged him, that actually made him cringe, was the ick factor. Spike was dead and Xander couldn’t understand why Buffy was drawn to the dead. This made her second vampire. What made her want to be near a dead guy? Cause dead guys, just . . . . he couldn’t see the attraction.

What was wrong with a living guy? There had been nothing wrong with Riley that he could see and yet Riley had left. He still didn’t understand what had happened between them, but he knew that Riley had believed Buffy had never loved him. But he’d seen her after Riley left and Buffy had been all broken up, crying and generally being down. Well, at least until stuff had started happening, the whole Glory thing. But thinking about Glory brought to mind Spike, mainly what he’d done. He’d felt bad for Spike after Glory had kicked his undead ass so hard she’d almost broken him. But thinking about that just brought him round to where he’d started.

How could she let a dead guy near her?

Xander sat in his living room unable to reconcile what he knew about Spike, which was considerable, and about vampires, which was also a lot and understand how Buffy could agree to have a relationship with him – to sleep beside him.

So he decided there and then that he was going to do everything in his power to prove to Buffy that Spike was evil, and that she needed to get rid of him.

Permanently.

Forever.


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

Dawn stumbled down the stairs half asleep, to find the kitchen full of people. Like everyone. Mentally rolling her eyes and making a face at herself she tried not to react to finding the kitchen packed. She wasn’t a happy morning person and waking up to a houseful of people just irked her. Looking around she noticed that Tara was leaning against Spike’s chest, wiping her eyes and Buffy was patting her hair, like she did whenever Buffy was trying to calm her.

So that was weird.

Dawn grumbled a good morning at everyone and opened the refrigerator. Grabbing the milk and reaching for something sugary, Dawn avoided looking at anyone else. She really didn’t want to see what anyone thought of her sleeping attire or her breakfast choice. Not that most of them cared.

Tara wiped her eyes, rested her head against Spike’s solid chest then pushed away. “I’m okay.”

Giles looked up at Spike, saying, “I think its time to tell the girls what you heard.”

Pulling Buffy into his embrace, her back against his chest, Spike wrapped his arms around her. “Yeah.” Dropping his head onto her shoulder, Spike took a deep breath.

“Yeah. Little chit, Kirsten, Niblet’s friend, went all Sibyl-like, gave me a head’s up of sorts.” And without letting go of her, Spike recounted Kirsten’s message, leaving out only the part he’d kept back initially, no need to go into that now – or ever.

Everyone was silent, taking in all that had been said so far.

Tara gave a half-hearted laugh when Spike said he’d always thought ‘Yellow’ meant her, but when Giles said he was coming to believe Spike was right, the poor girl nearly fell over.

During this whole discussion, Dawn had remained quiet, calmly eating her cereal, just letting the adults around her talk. One way to get them to talk openly was to keep silent. But something Spike said had her thinking, and she didn’t realize she’d said anything until she blurted it out. “I’ve never met her parents.”

Buffy looked over at her, “never?” While Tara said, “didn’t you say she had to watch her new baby brother?”

“Yeah. I did.” Dawn shrugged. “He’s like three months old. She’s had him at the park a couple of times. Her parents both work nights.”

“Janice has known her since like kindergarten, I think she’s okay.” Dawn shrugged again, showing that she wasn’t all that concerned. Kirsten was harmless and her brother was just the cutest little baby. With dark blonde curly hair and big blue eyes Will was adorable. Dawn swallowed hard. The baby’s name was Will. . . Nah, nothing weird about that, lots of people were named Will. Hey for all she knew, he could have been named for Will Smith. She’d only freak if his middle name was Rupert or Giles. Realizing she was letting her imagination run wild, Dawn hid a smile and kept chomping on her cereal. There was no way Kirsten and her family could be related to her, despite the sometimes weird feelings she got from looking at the girl. Maybe it’s just the fact I have no idea who my real family is, beside Buffy. Am I wishing so hard to have some connection that I’m finding it everywhere? She looked up at Spike, wondering if she was making up or exaggerating all the similarities between them because she wanted so badly to belong to someone.

“Not sure the chit’s a problem. Problem is all the rest of it. The hounds, the hellmouth and now we gotta worry about Red.” Spike for some reason agreed with Dawn. The little girl wasn’t a problem. To his mind the little one was a . . . maybe because she’d reminded him of Buffy at a time when he thought he’d never get her back, but the little girl wasn’t harmful.

The problem was what to do about Red and how to get rid of the hounds.

 

40. A sheltering holly tree.

Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.
Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey

Love is like the wild rose-briar;
friendship like the holly tree.
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms,
but which will bloom most constantly?
Emily Bronte, Love and Friendship

Flowers are lovely; love is flower-like
friendship is a sheltering tree
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Youth and Age

Only solitary men know the full joys of friendship.
Others have their family – but to a solitary and
an exile, his friends are everything.
Willa Cather, Shadows on the Rock



Given enough time, Spike was reasonably certain Giles could come up with the answers to most demonic questions, or apocalyptic ones, provided he was in possession of all the facts.

Unfortunately, Spike knew he wasn’t. And that uncanny bond he shared with Buffy made it clear that the slayer had no intention of telling him.

After everyone had left he had followed Buffy upstairs to her room. He’d tried earlier to convince her to tell Giles, but Buffy wouldn’t budge.

“No Spike. I already told you I don’t want any one to know. And why.” Buffy was repeating exactly what she’d said earlier, this time with a bit more force. Her arms were folded across her chest and her face was set. Spike was pacing around her bedroom, gesturing wildly.

“Pet, it’ll help figure out what’s going on. An’ I don’t think its gonna bother the girls as much as you think.”

She was finding it hard to follow his movements. Finally she stepped in front of him and whapped his bare chest.

“Ow.” Rubbing his hand across the stinging spot, he looked at her with a bit of indignation. “What’s tha’ for?”

“You weren’t listening to me.” Buffy looked at him, waiting for him to understand.

“All right love.” Sitting down on the edge of her bed, Spike drew her between his legs. “Tell me your reasons.”

Buffy put her hands on his shoulders looking down at him. “Tara and Dawn are all ready upset enough. How much worse are they gonna be if they find out Willow used them to pull me from heaven? What would it do to them?”

Dropping her head down to rest on his, Buffy whispered, “Poor Tara’s already . . . Spike I can’t do that to her.”

He waited a bit, thinking hard. She did have a point about the girls. Tara was teerering on the edge of falling apart and with Dawn you never knew which way the teen was going to jump. Niblet was like a cat, temperamental and high strung. Pulling her closer into his embrace, Spike rested his head against her belly. “All right kitten. We’ll do this your way. ‘S your decision.”

Buffy was braced for an argument. Was all prepared to have to argue more and at length, prepared for his withdrawal and disapproval of her decision and actions. So when she didn’t get it, Buffy was deflated.

“That’s it? You’re just going to agree with me?” Buffy didn’t believe this. Spike was . . . “no argument?”

“Buffy, its your call. I can’t decide it for you. Wouldn’t want to.” Spike let her go, watching her pace now.

“You know Angel would be all disapproving guy right now.” When he snorted, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “jackass” Buffy shot a look at him. Shutting his mouth, Spike tried for the innocent look. Raising her eyebrow, she just continued, “Riley would have just . . . not been able to . . . he would have just kept at me . . . or worse he would have told someone.”

Turning back to him, pushing her way into his embrace, she simply said, “thank you for understanding.”

Spike just pulled her closer, kissing her hard.


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

Tara slipped into the bedroom she was still technically sharing with Willow. The red head had slept nearly round the clock, although Tara knew she’d gotten up while they were out last night and eaten, but beyond that Willow had been asleep most of the night.

It was getting to the point where she was going to have to initiate a serious conversation with her girlfriend and then decide what she was going to do. She still wanted to talk to Spike and maybe today was a good day. After Giles and Wesley left, Dawn had said something about needing school things and with some urging from Spike, Buffy had offered to take her.

Looking down at the still sleeping girl, Tara hesitated. She thought about waking her up, and then thought maybe the reason why was because she wanted to avoid talking to Spike. Well that’s just silly. He’s not gonna think I’m a bad person for wanting to talk about this. Gathering up her clothes, Tara slipped from the room.

She figured she’d give Spike a half hour or so. It would take at least that long for him to say goodbye to Buffy.


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

She was really grateful to Spike for a lot of different things. For taking care of her all summer long, for being the one person she could rely on when everyone else was gone off doing their own things, Spike had always managed to make her his main priority. Now that her sister was back that had changed but not in a bad way. His protective circle had just widened a little bit to encompass the two of them. And if the scene earlier this morning was not acting, then his protection now extended to include Tara as well. Which was pretty cool.

The weird thing was, and by rights she really should be feeling this way, she wasn’t at all jealous that Spike’s main attention had shifted to her sister. He wasn’t leaving her out, forgetting her or even treating her like she was no longer important because Buffy was back. If anything, he’d made sure she wasn’t feeling left out. She and Tara both knew that Spike was sleeping in her sister’s bed every night and that Buffy was, well at least it seemed that way to the two of them, admitting her feelings. The only one who had a problem with the whole thing was Xander and maybe Willow and how weird was it that Giles wasn’t lecturing about how ‘vampires were all bad’ and ‘one mustn’t be involved with the evil undead’. Weird but cool.

Dawn flipped open her journal and thought about writing, but looking up at the clock, she changed her mind. She was going shopping, with Buffy of all people. Not that she and Buffy didn’t love to shop, but since long before their mother had died, it wasn’t something they normally did together. And after, well, there just had been other things on both their minds. Like Glory. Like just getting through the day without either of them collapsing into tears.

Buffy still wasn’t herself, was still getting used to being home, loud noises and bright lights and unexpected movements still bothering her. But she was getting better. Having Spike around all the time was a huge part of how Buffy was feeling, at least as far as Dawn could tell. She still heard the tears in the middle of the night, still found Buffy staring off into nothing, her sister still shook when the stress got to her and every single time, every single time, Spike was there, holding her, whispering to her, doing anything and everything that Buffy needed.

Dawn had long ago decided that Spike really loved Buffy, way more than Riley had ever loved her, and much more than Angel had. Now, though watching the two of them, Dawn realized something else. Her sister had changed. And despite the shakiness and tears, she’d come back a little bit better. At least for now. With any kind of good luck, she’d stay that way.

At least she hoped so. It would be nice, if she and Spike managed to stay together, if they became a real family.


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

Their kisses had a way of quickly becoming more, every time they touched. It was so simple to give over to her senses, drowning in the taste, the feel of him surrounding her. His touch, the rough pads of his fingers grazing across her sensitive skin, was enough. His cool unnecessary breaths blowing over her, into her, drove her to madness. That moment when he laid her bare, when they were both skin to skin and he slid his hard length inside her, driving the air from her body; that was what she craved, that instant, that moment when he slid inside feeling her warmth surrounding him and his eyes opened wide and his expression . . . Buffy loved that look.

It was the one on his face right now, as he thrust inside, forcing air and noise out of her mouth. His hand gripped her hip, holding on, his fingers digging in, no doubt bruises would show up later. She didn’t care . . . her hands were wrapped around his upper arms, squeezing hard.

“Buffy” his mouth was at her ear, his voice filling her head. “Buffy . . . love . . . come with me.”

Raspy with need his voice rolled through her, her name on his lips enough to melt her, warm her, sealing the ragged edges of her back together. Liquid fire raced through her, surging, pounding . . . Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, beating hard enough for both of them.

“Spike. “

Every muscle screamed his name, ached for his touch, wanting to envelope him, hold him there . . . he thrust hard hitting that spot and Buffy convulsed around him, a strangled scream wrenched from her throat. His hips stilled and a chest deep groan rumbled inside her, his ejaculate coating her depths.

Arching her head up, Buffy ran her tongue across his lips, feeling his smile. “Love you kitten” was whispered into her mouth and Buffy held him closer.

How she wanted . . . .

Her heart wasn’t ready yet.


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


Spike was watching television in the living room when Tara finally made it back downstairs. He was flipping channels idly, slouched on the couch, another mug of blood clutched in his hand.

Rounding the stairs, Tara looked around. Cautiously entering the living room, she sat down on the edge of the couch. “Buffy still around?”

“Girls are jus’ puttin’ on the final touches. They’ll be ready soon. You goin’ with them?”

“Uh no. I . . . I have some things around here I have to do.” Tara fidgeted in her spot.

After watching her for a few minutes, Spike took pity on the girl. He knew she wanted to talk to him, and figuring she’d gathered up her courage now, poor chit didn’t know how to proceed. “What’s up Glinda?”

“Can I . . . can we . . . you aren’t busy are you?”

He almost laughed, but knew it took a lot for her to come to him and it wouldn’t be nice to laugh. Didn’t want to hurt her feelings either. “‘m all free pidge, what’s your question?”

But before she could say what was on her mind, the two Summers girls clattered down the stairs. Dawn looked thrilled but both of the other two could see Buffy was pushing herself. The slayer’s face was set and the strain was showing around her eyes and mouth.

Dawn was practically bouncing around, excited to be out anywhere with Buffy. Looking up at his girls, Spike suppressed a grin at Dawn’s behavior and reached out a hand to Buffy. “All right kitten?”

Faking a bright smile for her sister’s benefit, Buffy took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Spike wrapped his arms around her and dipped her down, causing the others to laugh. Directing his words to Dawn, Spike said, “get my wallet, Nib.”

Rushing out of the room, Dawn found his wallet in record time. Spike had not much need for the money he won playing poker, most of it going to household expenses, but sometimes he kept a bit extra back. Since Rupert had brought more human blood this morning, the stash he had wasn’t necessary.

Kissing Buffy’s forehead, Spike reached out with one hand to take the wallet from her sister. Pulling out a couple of bills, he handed them to Buffy. Despite her surprise, a bit of the strain was gone from her face. Whispering her thanks, she said so low only Spike could hear, “thought this was going to be a window shopping expedition.”

“I know sweetheart.”

Kissing her again, Spike pushed her toward the door. “Go on you two. Be here when you get back. Go on.”

Buffy tried hesitating, but Spike pushed her toward Dawn, who was already out the door. He raised an eyebrow and kissed her once more. “Go.”

With a huff and a roll of her eyes after he playfully slapped her butt, Buffy was gone, trailing after Dawn.

Watching him watch Buffy, Tara smiled. He had such an enraptured look upon his face. Without really thinking about it, she said, “you really love her.”

“Well yeah.” Spike wasn’t about to deny it.

Settling back down on the couch, Spike looked at Tara. “So what’s up pet?”

Completely uncertain how to proceed, Tara was at a loss for words. She looked at him for a minute, her distress clear. Taking pity on her, Spike put his feet up, saying, “this about Red?”

“Yeah. . . yeah it is.” Thank god he pays attention. I just thanked god for a vampire. A soft giggle escaped her. He looked at her strangely and Tara just smiled. “You’re a pretty good guy you know that?”

Spike ducked his head. Tara was watching him closely so she saw the change in his coloring, as slight as it was.

Diving right in, she went on, “I’m worried you know? This isn’t good what she’s done. She used me, used Dawnie. What Willow . . . what she used could have . . . Wesley said Lethe’s Bramble is deadly if ingested too much. Gods above Spike, what was she thinking?”

Dropping her head into her hands, Tara tried to hold back the tears. Reaching out tentatively, Spike rubbed his big hand across her back. “All right, pet. . . . jus’ cry it out.”

Through her tears, Tara said “I don’t know if I trust her any more. She doesn’t even realize what she’s done. And . . . now . . . you tell me she’s still . . . Spike I don’t know what to do . . . . what am I supposed to do?”

Brushing back her hair, Spike soothed her with nonsense words, just letting her get it all out.

“‘Jus’ tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

He was at a loss. He had nothing to say that might help her. Willow was, right now, on his short list of people to avoid. Except for those short minutes spent with everyone around, Spike had yet to be alone with Willow since Buffy’s resurrection. Had only seen her twice since Buffy’s admission that she’d been in heaven. Given how he felt about that, Spike wasn’t so sure he’d be able to restrain himself from going after her. Red was not currently one of his favorite people.

He kept his hand in motion, while Tara wiped away her tears. “Gods Spike, what am I gonna do? What should I do?”

“Dunno pet. Got my own issues with what’s goin’ on.”

A watery smile crossed her face, trust Spike to not lie to her, to any one. Good thing he always told the truth because he was a really bad liar.

“What you do is up to you pet. Only you can decide how to go about things. You’re the one got hurt in all this.” He didn’t want to fall on platitudes, not with Glinda. She deserved better than that from any of them, especially him. The two of them had been close over the summer and in the past week or so, what she’d done for Buffy . . . .

“C’mon Glinda, you’ve got to suss this out, so talk.”

Facing him, Tara just let the words flow, the confusion, the pain, the feelings of betrayal, the utter loss she felt for what had been ripped away from her. How Willow’s actions had violated her. And not just her, but Dawn too. Willow had violated another innocent.

And the really hard thing to admit, the really really hardest thing of all, was that none of it seemed to matter at all to Willow. That some how, Willow couldn’t make the connection between her actions and what she’d done to them. Like it was someone else entirely who’d done that to her and Dawn.

And through it all, through her long halting explanation Spike just listened. Sometimes patting her back, sometimes holding her hands, but he was there. He listened, but he also heard what Buffy had said to him earlier, about how the girls wouldn’t react well to hearing Willow had used them to rip her from heaven. He got it. Listening to Tara spill out her fears and worries and sadness, Spike finally understood what Buffy had been trying to tell him.

That was pretty much what she’d really wanted. Someone to listen. Wiping her eyes again, Tara told him so, saying, “you know, Spike, you’re a really good friend.”

Well that surprised him.

Sitting beside her, one quarter of the Scourge of Europe flushed beneath her praise. “Pet . .”

“No really Spike. You just listened, that’s so important. Thank you.” Touching his hand, she repeated herself. “Thank you Spike, for being my friend.”

 

41. Sluggish men

There are some sluggish men who are improved by drinking; as there are fruits that are not good until they are rotten.
Samuel Johnson

Experience is that name that everyone gives to their mistakes.
Oscar Wilde

The first thing in human personality that dissolves in alcohol is dignity.
Anonymous



As much as talking to Spike had helped, three days later, Tara wasn’t any closer to a decision. Neither was she any closer to Willow.

School was starting tomorrow for Dawn and since their shopping trip days earlier, Dawn had been in a frenzied state. Nothing was worse than a fifteen year old girl starting a new school, especially when the school was on the hellmouth. Part of her problem had been the shopping trip. It hadn’t lasted very long, in fact, the girls had returned less than two hours after they’d left, Buffy retreated straight up into her room and Dawn had gone over to Janice’s in a slight huff. Spike had taken Dawn out just last night, before Wesley and Giles came over, to get the rest of Dawn’s things. Neither sister spoke about it, although Buffy had told her it was difficult, Dawn just rolling her eyes and making a face.

UC Sunnydale was open also, Willow’s classes were starting today, but hers didn’t start until later in the week.

At the moment, the three Englishmen were sprawled in various positions in the living room exhausted and hung over. They’d been up until all hours trying to translate some of the older scrolls before Wesley left later on during the day. Picking up some of the empty bottles she wondered if he was going to have to put off leaving until much much later.

She and Buffy moved quietly around the sleeping men, stepping over out-stretched legs and gently moving their arms into more comfortable positions. Giles looked the least comfortable, his head tilted at an awkward angle while Spike was stretched out next to him, slouched low, his head resting against the back of the couch. Wesley was sprawled in the armchair, his exceedingly long legs extended out nearly to the couch.

They looked so disreputably cute that the two girls kept exchanging glances and trying not to laugh out loud.

In spite of the fact Wesley had brought not so good news, Buffy had reversed her earliest opinion of him. His first trip to Sunnydale had been an absolute disaster. Arriving as an unwanted and unwelcomed replacement for Giles, Wesley had been so stiff there had been only one possible response to him.

Leaving Sunnydale in disgrace had probably been the best thing to ever happen to him. He’d found himself, found some security. Funny how it had come working for Angel.

Throwing a glance at Tara, Buffy lifted Wesley’s glasses off his face, putting them within reach on the coffee table. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, if you liked tall and thin and smart. Moving toward Spike, Buffy smiled. She had her own personal hottie, didn’t need to be looking anywhere else. He looked so . . . peaceful and utterly adorable when he slept. He didn’t look like the picture of evil. If anything he looked like an angel or at least an adorable little boy. Running her hand down his cheek, Buffy smiled when he shifted and inhaled.

She rarely had time like this to just sit and watch him. Buffy thought back, trying to remember any time she’d ever had an opportunity to just watch any of her boyfriends. Stopping short, she realized that yeah, Spike was her boyfriend. Smiling again, Buffy wondered what he would think about that label. Not realizing her hand was lingering on his face, Buffy leaned forward, looking at him closer. Boyfriend was a term that just . . . a soft laugh escaped her, followed by a gasp of surprise when his deep sleepy voice startled her. “Come snuggle with me kitten. Need your warmth.”

Snaking a hand around her waist, Spike pulled her down onto his lap. “What’s got you smilin’?”

She had to say it once, just to see the look on his face. “Just watching my boyfriend sleep.”

And just as she expected, the look on his face was priceless. It was so . . . Buffy couldn’t help her giggles. There was no describing it. His eyes were wide, his mouth was open and there was just . . . It was so classically stunned that Tara, who was just coming back into the room, stopped short and started giggling.

“Buffy?” Tara’s soft laughs were infectious. “Did you break Spike?”

Collapsing onto his chest, Buffy gave into the giggles that had been threatening. “Cute, sunshine, real cute. Go ‘head, laugh at me.”

Their laughter got louder until Spike shushed them both, gesturing to his fellow Englishmen. “Don’t wanna wake the boys, do ya?”

Which quieted both girls. Pushing Buffy a little bit away, Spike dropped his voice, not wanting to be overheard. “Buffy, did you mean that?”

“Guess I just sort of realized it, you know? Sort of just discovered it myself.” Her eyes were focused on his, unafraid to face him.

“Not sure ‘m boyfriend material, but if that’s what you wanna call me, won’t object.”

Huffing a little bit, Buffy thumped him lightly. “Knew you would say something like that. You know what I mean. Stop being so . . . so you.”

Spike smirked at her, turning her insides to mush and then, damn him, he smiled at her putting his tongue just under his teeth. “But you like me this way, kitten.”

“Gggrrrrr Spike.” But she had a smile on her face, which only made him smirk more.

In one swift movement, Spike had lifted her up and was halfway to the stairs before she realized it. “C’mon kitten, your boyfriend wants you.”

Her laughing “Sssssspppppiiiiiiikkkkkkeee” followed them down the stairs then his answering voice rolled across her skin “Buffy.”

Tara’s answering laughter floated up to them.


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

Dawn was chomping at the bit. Giles and Wesley were taking too long to translate the texts. Why they’d decided to start translating from the beginning, instead of the end she didn’t really understand. Were they trying to drive her mad? What was wrong with them?

Didn’t they understand she had to know?

Once Wesley had arrived and told them he’d found the texts, Dawn had been on edge. She didn’t want to wait for someone else to tell her what, and who she was made from and how they’d done it.

Dawn was convinced the answers were in the newest of the texts.

When she’d left the house this morning, Spike and the other two were asleep in the living room, glasses and empty beer bottles next to priceless and ancient scrolls. Running past them out the front door, Dawn was tempted to steal the most likely volume, but changed her mind. Better she waited until Wesley was gone and Giles completely focused on what he was doing. At least that was what she’d thought.

But now, coming back in the door a couple of hours later to find two of the three men still in the same positions, Dawn changed her mind. Of all of them, Spike would have been the one to wake up and catch her. Now that he was gone, Dawn decided this was her best opportunity.

Quietly tiptoeing past both men, Dawn dropped to her knees beside the box of thin leather-bound volumes. With a quick glance over her shoulder, Dawn grabbed the top four books. Flipping through them, she discarded three that weren’t written in English. Grabbing some more, Dawn quickly checked again and found three more that were.

Stash in hand, Dawn looked around and quickly scurried from the living room up the stairs.

Hiding the books under her mattress, Dawn figured she would read them later, when no one was around.


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

He’d fallen asleep, something he rarely did after they . . . well, had sex. Buffy snorted a bit. It wasn’t just sex. Just sex was what she’d done with Parker, she understood that now. Sex is pretty much what she’d done with Angel too. Riley had been different, they’d had something a bit more, but even then that couldn’t compete to what she and Spike did. Sexual marathons or Olympics was more like it. . . but no, truth was that wasn’t it either. Spike had years of experience beyond what Riley could ever hope to have and well, the upside was after a happy, he didn’t go all evil on her. He might kid himself about being evil, but Buffy had seen the truth, had known it when he’d taken that beating for Dawn.

Maybe it was the whole being back from heaven thing, or maybe it was just that she’d stopped kidding herself about the nature of good and evil, but Buffy knew he wasn’t such a bad guy. He was more like an over roasted marshmallow, all blackened and crispy outside, but soft and sweet on the inside. Not so tasty burned stuff, . . . okay, that was just not true. Looking at his face, Buffy had to admit he was probably the best looking guy she’d ever been with. Oh yeah, he was . . . edible.

A small giggle escaped from her. At least she’d be able to beat up anyone dumb enough to hit on him. But he wasn’t, he was hampered by the chip. Growing serious, she reached out to touch his face. Giles had said . . . chip or no chip, he trusted Spike. How long was it supposed to last anyway? Would it still . . . could it be removed without hurting him?

Shaking her head, Buffy drove those thoughts away. She wasn’t ready to really think about that yet. Closing her eyes, Buffy snuggled closer to his chest and settled in for a nap.


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


Tara had felt much better after talking to Spike, although he hadn’t really said much back to her. What he’d done was just allow her to vent and get it all out.

The only think was, she still wasn’t sure what to do. But what Spike had done for her wasn’t anything direct, but rather had a totally unexpected side-effect. She’d been able to sleep next to Willow. Baring her soul, so to speak, to Spike had made sleeping next to Willow a lot easier.

And how weird was that? She could sleep next to Willow without getting all uptight and worried about things.

Still hadn’t really talked to her, but for some strange reason it wasn’t so pressing anymore.


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

Willow ran into the building at UC Sunnydale, knowing she was cutting it close.

She didn’t know what had been bothering Tara, but for the last couple of days things between them had gone sort of back to normal, the way they were before Glory had messed with Tara. It made her feel good, like Tara was finally getting back to her old self. Maybe I’ll take her out to dinner tonight to celebrate . . . something. Maybe they could go out with Xander and Anya. She knew that Xander wouldn’t agree to go out with Buffy and Spike so she wasn’t even going to suggest it.

Not that she’d seen much of Buffy lately. Not since bringing her back. Which was like so . . . wrong. Willow had been the one to rescue her, the one to bring her safe from wherever she’d been trapped. And who does Buffy go and turn to? Him. . . . which really . . . Xander did kind of have a point. Before Glory, Buffy had been all eeeeewwwww Spike is evil and bad and disgusting and . . . and now, it was oooooooohhhhhh Spike.

Willow made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. She was right there with Xander’s confusion.

Not that she couldn’t figure out what the attraction was, okay so she was gay, but she wasn’t blind. Spike was good looking . . . okay so that too was kind of an understatement . . . Spike was hot.

But still dead, still a soulless vampire. And hey, he was the very same guy that had threatened her and Xander, tried to bite and turn her, hurt Buffy and just . . . he’d nearly betrayed them all to Adam . . . okay, so he’d come through with Glory but that was it. Spike was basically not a good guy, nor was he liable to be trustworthy, at least not in the long term.

Willow realized she was rushing forward while everyone around her was standing still. She knew she was running late, but she hadn’t thought it was that late. Rushing into the small lecture hall, it wasn’t until Willow sat down that she realized why no one else was moving.

Everyone else was frozen in place.


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

Wesley stirred, slowly coming awake as his brain registered all his sore muscles, pains and the dull ache pounding in his head. Groaning into his hands he made a personal vow to never again try and match a vampire drink for drink. Especially this one. Gods he was deceptive.

Short, slight little bugger was . . .. Gah. Wesley felt like he was going to pitch his stomach onto the floor.

There was a noise by the stairs and Wesley slowly turned his head to look at whatever it was.

“Dawn” he rasped out.

“You okay?” She was quiet something he greatly appreciated at that moment.

Grunting some sort of positive response at her Wesley groaned into his hands. Dawn hesitated at the door uncertain whether her presence was welcome. “Do you need anything?”

“Would kill for some aspirin. . . . or a mallet.”

Thinking for a second Dawn giggled softly. “We have both Wes, which one do you want first?”

“I’m thinking the mallet. More effective and much faster.”

She was silent for a moment. Then there was rustling, but it was neither loud enough nor lasted long enough to make him pick up his head. He didn’t think there existed anything short of an apocalypse that would get him moving faster than he was. Which was sloth speed. He didn’t move until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Barely lifting his head up to look, Wesley chuckled despite the pain in his head. Dawn was standing next to him, a mallet in one hand.

Silently she offered it to him.
 

42. The Poison Tree

If you betray me, can I take a better revenge than to love
the person you hate?
Pierre Corneille, Titus and Berenice, act 4, sc. 3

Love is whatever you can still betray . . .
Betrayal can only happen if you love.
John le Carre, A Perfect Spy

Giving up doesn’t always mean you are weak;
sometimes it means you are strong enough to let go.
Anonymous



They’d been patrolling for about two hours when they came across the first signs of the hounds. True to form, Spike scented the blood long before Buffy did, but she was the one to find the body.

Searching around for other signs, Spike found the second one. “Got another here, pet.”

“You thinking dogs?” Buffy looked around from her crouched position by the first body.

“Unless we got somethin’ else to worry about.” Spike rolled the corpse over with his foot. “It’s all birds. Haven’t found any blokes . . .”

Buffy turned to look up at him. “What . . . no guys. Spike?”

“All young chits – all recently had sex. . . guess most of these birds are from the college.” He stared off, looking past the grave markers and out into nothing.

“You have thinking face . . . spill it.” Dusting off her hands, Buffy stood up, wandering over to the second body.

“Somethin’ the Huntsman said . . . sounded like it might’ve been about payment.” Running a hand through his hair, Spike avoided looking at her for a moment. “Dunno pet, jus’ thinkin’ out loud.”

“Ahuh. Sounds like more than that.” Crossing her arms, Buffy waited, knowing Spike would start talking in . . .

“Jus’, some of what Oxford translated could be taken another way. More like ‘we seek payment for that which was taken from heaven’ which is you . . . you’re the only one I know’s been in heaven of late.”

He still wouldn’t look at her. He knew she really didn’t want to talk about this, at least not with anyone else. He knew she trusted him to keep her secrets, which warmed him to the bone. But he also knew she wasn’t about to budge unless there was overwhelming evidence to contradict her decision. The trick was getting her to admit it.

This was only her second night patrolling since she’d been back and the strain was showing. Her reactions were just a second off, but he didn’t think anyone but himself would pick up on it. She’d been training, but her workouts were half-hearted, except for the last one when they’d sparred for a bit.

A theory was beginning to take form in his head, one he was loathe to give voice too. But if he did, she might be . . . willing to change her mind. Changing his mind Spike faced her. “All right, kitten, here’s what I’m thinking. Red brought you back from heaven.”

Pacing now, Spike was gesturing. “Right, same time you come through from heaven, the hounds of hell are released. ‘M thinkin’, they aren’t here to get you, but to take payment in exchange for lettin’ you go.”

He stopped short, turning to watch her. She had that look on her face, the one he almost hated – the ‘I’m the Slayer, I know better than you’ look. Spike faced her dead on, not backing down from her, not taking his words back.

And watched while the wheels in her head turned. He knew, half a second after she did, when she’d realized his theory might actually have some validity. Her facial muscles were working like her brain was trying to say something her mouth nearly refused to say.

Well, he wasn’t going to make it easier on her. If his words made her change her mind then she had to say it out loud. There was no one saying the girls had to be told, at least not right now, but he still was of the opinion that Rupert should know. For once, though, he kept his mouth shut.

Buffy started to say something and then he didn’t hear anything because his ears were ringing. Turning around, Spike lost his balance and fell. Six Cythreuliaids. Fucking hell. Wobbling a bit, Spike cleared his head then joined the fray.


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

She didn’t want to be here. Feeling decidedly out of place and very uncomfortable, Tara reverted back to her old patterns. Ducking her head, fidgeting quietly, these were all obvious signs to anyone who cared enough to notice. But no one was noticing.

No, instead, she was the one doing the noticing. Noticing how much she didn’t fit in, how very uncomfortable this was, how self-absorbed her girlfriend was, how . . . mean Xander really was to Anya.

That surprised her. And not in a good way. Since they’d gotten to the restaurant, the conversation had flowed around her, and she was content to not contribute in her state. Willow kept going on about herself, while every time Anya tried to talk, Xander practically shushed her.

And he was not very nice about it. Tara thought that Anya sometimes said things inappropriately only because she’d forgotten some things about being human. It was confusion, which should be helped, not ridiculed like Xander usually did.

So yeah, she didn’t want to be here. In fact, she’d rather be home doing something else, like laundry or cleaning the bathroom or . . . . anything.

The restaurant was packed, and they’d had to wait for a table, but the wait was becoming a problem, because the last thing she wanted was to sit around and talk – or rather listen to Xander and Willow talk at each other. The evening hadn’t started out with much promise and it had gone steadily downhill the longer they sat and waited. Scanning around at the crowd, Tara thought of ways she could get out of continuing this whole evening. Too bad Buffy and Spike had gone patrolling, otherwise she’d call the cell phone and have them come get her. She was so uncomfortable that faking a stomachache might not pose a problem much longer.

Anya’s voice brought her back to the table, but it was Xander’s return comment that just bugged her, and she very nearly said something about it, but her natural shyness kept her silent. Catching poor Anya’s eye, she tried to show her some support by smiling at her, but the tears pooling in the ex-demon’s eyes told the real story.

Tara’s fists clenched in her lap, echoing the tightening in her belly. Tingles began racing through her muscles and her vision kept wavering. Alternating patterns of white energy flashed before her eyes, superimposed over the figures sitting with her, like a negative image of everything. The waitress passed by their table, holding up her hand in a ‘one minute’ gesture that somehow irked the redhead beside her.

Muttering under her breath, Willow said “I’ll give you wait a minute.”

And then, everything went still. The noise stopped and the air grew thick. Tara could feel the magic pressing against her skin, knew Anya could feel it also by the stiffening of her shoulders, and the wide eyed look she threw at Willow. Slowly Tara turned to look at her girlfriend, fighting against the weighty air. Willow’s eyes flashed dark and her cute little bow mouth got that set look to it. “Come.”

And the waitress, who had just given them the brush off, moved slowly in their direction.

Abruptly, time snapped back into sync and the waitress was standing there, pad in hand, waiting to take their order. Tara couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer “Willow, what did you do?”

“Just got her attention that’s all. Its no biggie.” Willow shrugged off Tara’s concerns. “We’ve been waiting for a while.”

“So? Its not a big deal to wait for our turn.” Tara felt the twitches and twinges building in her belly. This was not good. “We could have waited a little bit longer.”

“I’m hungry and we’ve been waiting long enough.” Willow turned a bright smile to the waitress, giving her order. Anya watched the emotions flickering across Tara’s face and felt the tension building. Smiling brightly and batting her eyes, Anya tried to say something but Xander cut her off, speaking over her to the waitress.

The back of her neck got hot, her arms were tensing from the strain of keeping her hands below the table and her jaw was beginning to hurt. Anya swung a hurt look at Xander, who kind of apologized by smiling at her and taking her hand.

“Willow, that wasn’t right.” Tara barely got the words out through her tight jaw.

“Its your turn baby, give the girl your order.” Completely ignoring Tara’s previous statement, Willow turned a bright smile to her girlfriend and waved a hand. Again the air went still, pressing heavily on her skin.

“Willow. Stop it now.” She ground out the words, her temper barely in check.

Waving her hand again, Willow smiled and released the waitress, saying “I’m not doing anything bad, just getting our dinner ordered.”

“No you’re not. This is wrong Willow, what you’re doing right now. Stop it.” Puling away from Willow, Tara shook her head. “This is wrong and you know it.”

“How is it wrong? I’m just getting our order in now. Not a big deal. Why are you getting so upset about this?” Willow turned to face her girlfriend, confusion etched on her features. “I’m not doing any thing wrong.”

“Not doing? Gods Willow, have you been paying attention? What is with you? This is so . . . . why waste energy this way? Magic isn’t something you should be using to get ridiculous things like your dinner order in first.” Tara found herself growing more agitated by the moment. And Willow’s innocent demeanor wasn’t helping matters.

“Tara? Baby, why is this bothering you?” Willow was genuinely confused. This wasn’t such a big deal, why was Tara making an issue of it?

“Why is this bothering me? Have you been . . . Willow, you use magic for the silliest reasons. Making breakfast, getting someone’s attention. What purpose does all that serve? You can do all that without using magic.” Tara was getting agitated, her voice starting to rise and people were beginning to look at them.

Willow narrowed her eyes. “I’m not using too much magic. So what I fixed breakfast. It’s not a crime to use the talents the Goddess has given me.”

“It is when you misuse them and abuse them. This isn’t about the end results Willow, this is about the means you are using to get there.” Tara pushed away from the table, her agitation growing. “Don’t you see what you’re doing?”

“I’m not doing anything. This isn’t such a big thing.” Willow had also pushed back from the table, while Anya took the opportunity to get up. “I’m just going to powder my nose. You continue.”

Xander looked from one girl to the other, uncertain what was happening. “Ah Wills? Maybe this should wait until later?”

Shooting him a glance, Willow shrugged. “I’m not sure what’s going on at all.”

“Oh please, Willow, stop acting like you don’t understand. What you’ve been doing is wrong. What you did to me and Dawn – Willow this has to stop. You have to stop using magic foolishly – just because you can. It’s wrong Willow and you have to stop.”

“I’m not using it to hurt anyone.”

“What about me and Dawnie? You hurt both of us.” Tara was on her feet now, her hands clenched beside her, her face pale with anger.

“What . . . how did I hurt you? I just used a little bit of your blood. Hardly cut you at all.” Willow was perched on the edge of her chair, earnestly trying to plead her case.

Shaking her head in denial, Willow said, “no. I was careful, I knew exactly how much to use and I didn’t give you too much.”

Staring at the redhead, Tara felt the rage reaching a breaking point. “How did you know? You checked? Somehow I don’t think you were all that thorough in your research. Did you even know that Lethe’s Bramble is deadly?”

“It is you know. Very deadly.” Anya’s voice sounded from the opposite side of the table, apparently she hadn’t been able to leave. “It should only be used outside the body, unless you’re trying to kill the other person.”

Willow was shaking her head. “No. I knew what I was doing. It wasn’t dangerous at all.”

“No Willow you’re wrong. It was dangerous. Can’t you see what you’re doing?” Angry tears sprang to Tara’s eyes. “How could you have done this? What were you thinking?”

And still Willow was shaking her head, but now Tara was just . . . “I can’t do this. I can’t . . . I don’t trust you Willow. I can’t be with you. You don’t even see what you’ve done.”

“Tara? Baby you . . . please don’t go.” Willow’s composure broke and tears fell. “Tara? Tara?”

But Tara was gone and Willow was just pleading with thin air.


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

It had taken some pleading and some coaxing, but Dawn had managed to get Buffy to agree to leaving her home alone. Surprisingly, she’d had an ally in Spike. He’d backed her up, pointing out that Dawn was 16 now and should be more than okay on her own. She’d been tempted to kiss him, but just settled for an enthusiastic hug.

So now here she was, snacks at the ready, soda chilled and priceless books strewn about haphazardly on her bed. What could be better? Brad Pitt or Jude Law or . . . . hey, her sister’s boyfriend . . . Dawn giggled. She was so over that crush – and how much creepier would that have been . . . crushing on your own father. Shuddering, Dawn stopped that train o’thoughts before it got any further. Not like she knew for sure anyway. Was probably just really hard wishful thinking on her part. Hey, the monks could just have easily used part of her mom and, thinking for a bit, Giles. Okay, that mental image was even ookier than lusting after Spike. Or they could have used Buffy and Angel. Eeewww . . . . nope, didn’t want to go there either. Just as long as the monks didn’t use Buffy and Xander, she’d be all happy. Coz, Xander, he just wasn’t one of her favorite people right now. Stretching out on her belly with her feet in the air, she flipped open the first journal.

An hour later she was no closer to finding out anything other than monks were pretty boring guys and that popcorn and marshmallows and soda just made you really burpy, when she spotted the first intriguing entry.

Checking the date of the entry, Dawn re-read it.

It was a description of a dark warrior, as the monk called it, and except for the hair color and clothing, Dawn thought the description sounded a bit like Spike. Reading faster, she sat up, grabbing the post-it notes she was using to mark interesting things.

And was rewarded not thirty seconds later when the writer mentioned the dark warrior was a vampire.

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

Once outside the restaurant, Tara realized a couple of things. First, she was really far away from Buffy’s house, secondly she wasn’t really wearing the best shoes for a long walk and lastly, but probably most importantly, she felt a whole lot better.

Okay, so, her palms were sweaty and her knees were kind of wobbly, but on the whole, she felt better. Like a weight had been lifted.

Deciding she really didn’t want to wait around to see if anyone was going to follow her out of the restaurant, Tara walked quickly down the street. There was a cemetery not too far, and she could swing by . . . and that was a crazy thought, but still, if they were around, she’d feel safer with them. She could always ask the mother for a cloaking spell until she found them.

Tara sped up, hearing the door of the restaurant open behind her. She suddenly wanted to put a whole lot of distance between her and Willow.


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

His head was swimming. One of those lousy buggers had gotten in a heavy blow to his head before the fight had even begun and Spike was still reeling. Of all demons he’d ever come across, he hated the ones they were fighting now. Carrion eaters, they were like hyenas . . . eating the leftovers from other predators. Like hyenas, they traveled in packs, deferring to the alpha. Unlike hyenas, these wankers walked upright. Which was okay with him, since his last encounter with four legged beasties hadn’t ended so well.. At least right away. The afters had been just lovely.

One of them got a swipe in across his chest and Spike stopped his happy thoughts, focusing on the matter at hand. Snapping the neck of one, Spike stole a glance at Buffy. She was holding her own, but flagging. He knew it just by the slump to her shoulders.

“Got my three. How’re you doin’ Slayer?” He figured the banter would get her blood pumping, not to mention his taking out more than her.

“Just dandy.” Grunting from the force of a blow to her solar plexus, Buffy faltered visibly.

Spike was at her side in a blur of vampire speed, the demon’s heart clenched in his fist. “Right here kitten. Let’s get this last bugger and head home.”

Gasping for air, she wheezed out “good idea. Let’s do just that.”
 

43. If

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
if you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
if you can meet with triumph and disaster
and treat those two imposters just the same;
Rudyard Kipling, If

When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness;
instead keep your head up high and gaze into heaven
for that is where your heart has been sent to heal.
Anonymous

Children find everything in nothing;
men find nothing in everything.
Giacomo Leopardi, Zibaldone Scelto



The journal entry was dated February 1911.

‘We have spotted the dark warrior again, this time with his consort. They have been living in Spain, feeding off the wealthy and powerful of Barcelona. He has just fought his second chosen one. He left her wounded but alive, in fact both were wounded. Sunlight is what caused the end of their battle, neither warrior gaining an advantage though they fought for hours. It was not I that witnessed their battle, but Brother Jerome, who told me that it was a fierce struggle. Brother Joachim fears we will lose sight of him now, since he was wounded. I am of the same mind. 23rd February, 1911, by my hand, Alexios, Prior.’

Dawn hadn’t breathed the entire time she’d read that entry. It had to be him. She was absolutely certain the only vampire to consistently seek out slayers had to be Spike. There was no one else as insanely brave and stupidly courageous as him. Or quite so bold. It had to be him. She flipped quickly through the pages, hoping to find another mention of the dark warrior, but there was nothing. Only more mention of the chosen ones.

Interestingly enough, there was another entry not too long after that one, this time for March 1911, mentioning that the chosen one had died of secondary injuries received after going out too soon after battling with the dark warrior. So maybe he had gotten three slayers . . If this dark warrior was him.

Knowing him though, he probably wouldn’t take any credit for it, since he hadn’t been the direct cause of death.

But she had to know if it was him.


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

It felt good to be away, felt good to be out of that situation. Gods it had been so stifling, so . . . heavy, was the best word she could come up with. Even before Willow had messed with the waitress, the atmosphere had been dense, everything uncomfortable. She hated that feeling. It was the feeling she’d grown up with, feeling like she didn’t belong, that no one understood her, and that she had no safe place. The only time Tara had felt differently growing up was when her mother was alive, and even then only when she was nearby.

But this was a different kind of uncomfortable. This was . . . despite being a witch and gay, it wasn’t that which was making her uncomfortable. It was the feeling she was getting from being around Willow. The skin crawling not in a good way feeling. Thinking there were butterflies in her belly only to find out it was worms. And it wasn’t even the same kind of feeling she got whenever a strange vampire was around, which was generally creepy, but hey, she didn’t feel this . . . used.

Yeah, that’s what it all boiled down to. She felt used. Cheap and unwanted and just not as important as she should be feeling.

If things had been a bit different, if Willow had come to her sooner and spoken about her plans, what she wanted to do, perhaps things wouldn’t be like this now. But Willow hadn’t. She hadn’t told anyone. Instead she had gone ahead and brought Buffy back.

Tara hadn’t talked to Buffy about any of this, mainly because the other girl still wasn’t completely herself. But she had a sinking suspicion that Buffy was feeling the betrayal also. Wasn’t hard to miss who was talking to who in the house, or where people were sleeping, and she was pretty certain that Buffy wasn’t talking to Willow. She knew for a fact that Spike wasn’t.

As she walked through the cemetery, Tara wondered what it might have been like if Willow had just done one thing differently. Gods, she could have killed both of them. One tiny misstep with the Lethe’s Bramble and poof, it would have been over for both her and Dawn.

Leaning down, she stepped out of one shoe then the other, scooping them up in her hands. A deep sigh escaped her lips and Tara was forced to admit to herself that sooner or later she was going to have to leave Buffy’s house. And she didn’t want to. She was comfortable there, and it was starting to feel like she had a place there, outside of being Willow’s girlfriend. Maybe she could talk Spike into letting her have the basement.

A soft smile graced her features and she looked wistfully up at the stars. Well, she’d just take things as they came for now. If this was meant to be, then everything would work itself out. If not, then so be it. She could always find another room at the college, or a small apartment off campus.

Exiting the small cemetery, Tara spotted the DeSoto parked down the block at the entrance to Shady Rest. She’d sit on top and wait for the others to come back.


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

Giles had been immersed in the texts and other books since Wesley’s departure almost a week before. So far, he’d found nothing more about the reason why the Cwn Annwn were in Sunnydale, but Anya’s words about payment kept circling round his head. He knew there was a connection but at the moment he was forced to admit it was eluding him.

On the other hand, the texts were proving to be of an enormous benefit, albeit one that neither he nor Wesley had anticipated. Apparently, these monks were extremely adept with manipulating energy, in short, they were most accomplished magicians and sorcerers. Odd, given the fact that they called themselves monks. Monastic orders were normally Christian, although there were Buddhist monasteries strewn about Asia. Somehow Giles got the impression that these monks were neither Buddhists nor Christians, though they may have hidden themselves in plain sight inside the Church. Wouldn’t have been the first time a covertly pagan group had protected themselves by entering en masse into the Church.

What intrigued him was the meticulous records they kept. For an order that eschewed Church teachings, they had perfected the liturgical hours. Each Prior had kept his journal according to the medieval Church, recording a bit each day at Prime and then again at Compline, roughly six in the morning and then again at nine at night. There were also copious annotations to herbals and grimoires that nearly had Giles salivating. He wondered if Wolfram & Hart had obtained all the books from the monks, and Wesley had only liberated the journals, believing them to be of primary use, leaving the others for later. He could only hope that Wesley had thought ahead and ‘liberated’ all of them.

If those grimoires fell into the wrong hands – and he considered Wolfram & Hart to be the wrong hands – there would be no telling what kind of havoc they could wreak.

Reaching for his cell phone, Giles hit speed dial, hoping Wesley was available.


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

They approached the DeSoto, Spike scenting Tara long before the car came into view, and he told Buffy that, so neither one of them was surprised when she smiled up at them from her perch on the hood.

“Hey guys.”

“Glinda.” Spike opened the trunk dropping in a small double-headed axe.

“Hey yourself. What’s up?” Buffy didn’t want to come out and ask it, but she was a bit curious why Tara was here. Last she knew the two girls were going out to dinner with Xander and Anya.

“Thought you were out with the scoobs?” Spike didn’t have any compunctions about asking. He knew Buffy was curious, hell he was too.

“We did go out. But well,” Tara sighed a little, looking from one to the other, “I guess I sort of broke up with Willow.”

Buffy hopped up to sit next to her. “You okay?”

Nodding her head, Tara said softly, “yeah, I guess I am.”

Spike stood silently letting the girls talk.

“You sure?” Buffy offered, but Tara just shook her head.

“You know, I am okay. This isn’t so sudden, been building for a while. Since . . . “

“Since she brought me back.” Buffy made a face, then glanced up at Spike. They shared a brief look, then as one they shifted their attention to the other girl.

“So what happened?” Buffy shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable.

Relaying the story to them, Tara repeated her fears about Willow’s misuse of magic. Spike snorted, interrupting her. “‘s not about magic pet, for Red its about control. Always acts out when situation is out of control and ‘specially if its outta her hands.”

Tara stared up at him. She’d never really thought about it that way. “You know, I think you might be right.”

There was silence for a bit, then Spike asked, “so what now pet?”

“Well I’m not sure. I’ve got nowhere else to go. I could try and get another dorm, but it’s probably too late.”

Shooting a look at Buffy, Spike raised his eyebrows at her. She just looked at him, then very quietly said to Tara, without taking her eyes off Spike, “you could always sleep in the basement. Spike’s room isn’t really being used.”

Well, Tara thought, this is going better than I expected. She’d never thought Buffy would be the one to bring up any of this.

But Buffy’s voice went on, “I don’t want you to leave. I’d really . . . you’re a good friend Tara. And I don’t want to lose you.”

She’d shifted her gaze to the other girl, reaching for her hand.

Tara was touched. Truly. She’d never expected this, oh she’d hoped for it, but figured she would have to be the one bringing it up.

Smiling at the two of them, Tara suddenly had tears in her eyes. “Thanks Buffy. It means alot.”


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

They hadn’t made him promise to keep quiet about things in Sunnydale, hadn’t even spoken about it, but Wesley had not spoken about the situation there beyond “everyone’s doing okay. Better than I’d expected.”

And Angel had left it at that. He had enough to worry about anyway.

Wesley still couldn’t believe the mess he’d come back too. Darla was back, again, vamped and unbelievably, inexplicably pregnant. Nearly eight months gone with Angel’s child.

Wesley figured that his little secret about Buffy’s return paled in comparison to Angel’s indiscretion. It was completely unprecedented, at least as far as he knew. He’d done nothing but non-stop research since his return and he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever find any answers. He was starting to doubt it.

He was contemplating calling Giles when his cell phone rang.

Looking at the caller ID, Wesley heaved a sigh of relief and flipped it open.


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

The ride home had been quiet. Neither girl was inclined to talk, each immersed in their own thoughts. Spike figured it was just as well, since he was also deep in thought. Part of him was aware that a step had been taken in his relationship with Buffy, and was rejoicing, but a larger part, remnants of William no doubt, was left wondering if it was just because Buffy didn’t want Tara moving out. He was also worried about Glinda. She appeared to be okay with things, but outward appearances sometimes lied. Her heartbeat was slow, her breathing regular. He wondered for a moment, if she truly felt okay, or if she was just putting on a brave front for them and was going to fall apart when reality hit.

He pulled the DeSoto into the driveway, looking at the girls as he did. Oddly, Buffy was the one with tears falling from her eyes.

“Buffy?”

She didn’t answer, only reached for his hand, the tears falling faster now. Tara got out of the car, unaware of Buffy’s state, heading right for the front door.

“Love? You okay?” He was starting to worry, because she wouldn’t talk or look at him. Instead she just shook her head holding out a hand to him.

Pulling her close, Spike gently pushed her head onto his chest. “Ssshhh. ‘S all right. I’m here.”

His big hands ran up and down her back, soothing away her tears. “C’mon love, let’s go in.”

Maneuvering them both from the car, Spike half carried the crying girl into the house. Tara was in the kitchen, getting a drink and on his way upstairs, Spike called out “I’ll help you move things around come daylight.”

And then his boots pounded up the stairs. Passing by Dawn’s room, Spike called out “lights out, Nib” but he didn’t wait for a response.

Buffy was still crying, but the torrent had slowed to a trickle. Placing her on the bed, Spike hunkered down to get her shoes off. He looked at her face and instead he reached out to cup her cheek and wipe away her tears. The words rasped out before he could censor them. “What’s this about then?”

At first she didn’t answer. Sniffling and shaking her head, she only answered him after he nudged her again.

“What if you hadn’t been there? If no one had been there when I got out?” Her voice was thick with tears. “If I hadn’t trusted you, what would have happened to Dawn? If . . . I couldn’t . . . if something happened. . . . “

“Oh baby. Shhhh.”

Wrapping her in his arms, Spike held her close. “I’m here kitten. Not goin’. Gonna stay here.”

Buffy cried against his chest, breathing him in, his strength, his nearness and his promises.

“If you hadn’t been there . . . oh Spike.”

And she held on tight, afraid to think about it, what it would have been like if he hadn’t been there. If he wasn’t here whenever she needed him. If he wasn’t here with her now.

That was something he didn’t even want to contemplate. It was different for a vamp, you woke up without any breath and made your climb out that way. But even so, he’d had nightmares for awhile. He figured Buffy was in for some very long nights, well no, actually they were.

His arms around her, half laying on the bed that they now officially shared, Spike realized this was his life. She owned him, lock stock and barrel. Unbeating heart and without a soul, he was hers.

No ifs.

He was hers.

Chapter 44. Privacy is raked

Was ever book containing such vile matter
so fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell
in such a gorgeous palace!
Romeo and Juliet, act 3, sc. 2

We chase misprinted lies
we chase the path of time
and yet I fight, and yet I fight
this battle all alone
no one to cry to
no place to call home

My gift of self is raped
my privacy is raked
and yet I find, yet I find
repeating in my head
if I can’t be my own
I’d feel better dead
Alice in Chains, Nutshell from the albums Jar of Flies and Unplugged


She snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling safe. The tears had finally stopped and Buffy felt much better. In spite of the fact she hated crying, hated showing any kind of emotions, crying had helped.

Wiping away the last of her tears, Buffy looked up to the face of the man holding her. He just . . . she didn’t know how he did it, but he always managed to be whatever she needed at any given moment. Her hand reached out to touch him and his eyes rested on hers.

“All right then kitten?”

Her hand rested on his throat, feeling the vibrations of his voice. Closing her eyes, Buffy nodded once, nestling in even closer. They were laying on the bed, still fully clothed, just holding each other. One of his hands slipped under her shirt, his thumb running up and down her back soothingly.

They heard the front door slam, then light footsteps up the stairs. The door to Willow’s room opened, then nothing. More footsteps, then a knock on their door.

“Buffy?” Willow’s voice sounded through the door. “Buffy you awake?”

Taking pity on the girl, Buffy called out, “yeah I am.”

“Can I talk to you a minute?” She almost sounded like her old self, like she did in highschool, scared and unsure, but Buffy really wasn’t fooled. Nor did she want to get up. She almost did, then decided she didn’t want to.

“Come on in.”

Spike raised a brow and started to sit up as Willow opened the door.

“Oh.”

The look on the witch’s face was worth whatever price he was going to have to pay for it.

“Sorry. Didn’t realize . . . um. . . “ and she was clearly flustered. “I’ll go.”

“Willow, what’s up?” Buffy asked, knowing full well what brought the other girl in and what had her flabbergasted. Sitting up, Buffy pulled off her socks, completely at ease.

“I was . . . well,” and she stood wringing her hands, trying not to watch Spike as he pulled off his boots, “I was wondering if you’d seen Tara tonight.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to snipe at her ‘lost your girlfriend have you’ but Buffy’s evil look kept him silent. They hadn’t talked about this, but Buffy had a feeling Tara didn’t want Willow to know where she was. So she lied.

“No. I thought she was with you.”

“We had a fight.” Willow’s shoulders slumped.

Spike hid his face by ducking down to move his boots, determined to follow Buffy’s lead. Better she handle this anyway, because he’d just as soon lace into Willow for everything and once he started, he knew there’d be no going back for him.

“She probably just needs some time. I’m sure she’s safe.” Buffy got up from the bed, moving toward her dresser. Taking off her necklace, she continued, “she’ll probably be home in the morning.”

Unfortunately there was nothing Willow could say. “Kay, I’ll just head to my room. You’re right, I’m sure she’s fine.”

Sounding suspiciously perky Buffy said “yup, she’ll be back safe and sound first thing in the morning. She’s probably just tucked away in a borrowed bed. “

“Yeah” stealing one more glance at Spike, Willow said “g’night then.”

And she was out the door, no further word from her.

Buffy started to speak, but Spike held up a hand, motioning her to quiet. Raising an eyebrow, Buffy started again but Spike motioned to the door, mimicking someone listening. Her eyes grew wide and Buffy crossed the room to where he was sitting. Breathing into his ear in a very soft whisper, she said “I couldn’t tell her.”

Spike kissed her shoulder, responding, “I know love, shouldn’t worry. Glinda needs rest right now, not another fight with Red.”

Lowering herself onto his lap, Buffy hugged him. “Can we go to sleep now?”

“Sure you want to sleep?” His leer was almost irresistible.

She laughed softly “can I think about it?” Which only got louder at his affronted look.

“Oi. I’ll let you think, after.”


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

Giles hung up after his conversation with Wesley both relieved and concerned. The good news was Wesley had stolen every book obtained by Wolfram & Hart, just not transported them all. The bad news, however, was far more disturbing.

All was not right in the city of Angels, nor with the vampire of the same name. Giles had only heard of one other instance when a vampire had managed to impregnate a woman. The woman had been a hybrid – one quarter demon – which no doubt facilitated things but . . . this was. . . He was going to have to mention this to Buffy and Spike and he really didn’t look forward to that at all.

He couldn’t begin to imagine Buffy’s response to this. Perhaps he’d tell Spike first and then together they could tell Buffy.

Wesley was proving to be an unexpected ally. He’d been concerned that his fellow former watcher would blurt out the way of things in Sunnydale, but he’d kept his silence, kept their secrets.

Not that he felt it mattered one way or another. Angel was just another obstacle they had to face. Sooner or later, the older vampire would find out, and come flying back to Sunnydale and pronounce his extreme displeasure. Pompous ass. Giles was inclined to agree with Spike’s opinion of the souled vampire.

Initially, Giles had trusted him, but in the aftermath of losing his soul and Angelus’ subsequent actions, Giles had never been able to trust him at all. Had been more than happy to see him go.

And now, if forced to chose between the two vampires, there was no doubt in Giles’ mind which one he’d choose, with or without his chip, Giles trusted Spike far more than he ever would trust Angel.

But all that aside . . . . Giles stopped pouring the water he was about to drink. Everything clicked into place. The Cwn Annwn had been released to exact payment for Buffy’s return from whatever dimension she’d been trapped within. How could he have been so dense?

Sitting down hard in his chair, Giles closed his eyes. He wasn’t stupid, just . . . he’d been temporarily blinded by his joy at Buffy’s return that he’d completely overlooked the obvious. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was just a bit too late to call the house. Everyone but Spike was probably asleep and while he enjoyed talking to him, he wasn’t the one Giles wanted to speak with. And Giles wanted to see her face when he talked to her about this.

Willow’s mistakes just kept growing exponentially by the day.


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

Standing outside Buffy’s bedroom door, Willow strained to hear their conversation. Something about that whole short exchange with Buffy bothered her. If she didn’t know better she’d swear that Buffy had been lying. Or maybe it was just really seeing for the first time how much Spike had moved in.

Obviously he was very comfortable in Buffy’s room something she hadn’t known until just now. And just as obviously Spike was preparing to sleep in there and not in his room in the basement.

Willow got the distinct feeling that they were talking about her even though she couldn’t hear anything. It bugged her. Everything about the whole. . . She was supposed to be Buffy’s best friend, the one she went to for support, the shoulder to cry on and the listening ear. So how come she didn’t know about Spike’s new sleeping arrangements until now?

This was . . . wrong. She didn’t like this one bit. Wrong wrong wrong. Pursing her lips and furrowing her brow Willow concentrated and suddenly she could hear and see everything going on behind the closed door in front of her.

Buffy was straddling Spike’s lap, her mouth by his ear, laughing softly. She whispered “can I think about it?” Then laughed a bit louder when Spike gave her a look.

His hand snuck under her shirt, pressing her down and his leer was evident in his tone as he said “oi, I’ll let you think after.”

Willow mentally grimaced but didn’t leave the room. They couldn’t see or sense her so she opted to stick around to see what happened to see if they talked about her.

Spike’s low voice caught her attention. “Feelin’ any better, pet?”

Both his hands were under her shirt now preparing to lift it off. His fingers moved, releasing her bra and when her answer wafted between them, Spike removed both items at once.

Nice move, Willow thought, wondering if she could perfect it.

Leaning her back away from him Spike licked a path upwards from her belly button to the valley between Buffy’s pert breasts. Slowly his tongue worked its way from one hardened nipple to the other as Buffy held onto his arms tightly. Neither one of them spoke but harsh gasping breaths filled the room.

Willow watched, a silent invisible voyeur, as Spike continued his gentle assault on Buffy’s sensitive nipples. Buffy’s whimpers filled the air as he caught the tip between his teeth and he tugged back. He did it again repeating the action on her other nipple and Willow felt her own skin grow flush.

Great mother he’s good.

His deep rumbles of pleasure erupted from his chest counterpoint to Buffy’s soft mewls. Spike moved, quick as a cat, laying Buffy down on the bed, sliding his hand inside her pants, his body blocking her view of what his mouth was doing.

Moving about, Willow drifted closer to the bed, unable to stop watching. Spike’s hand effortlessly peeled Buffy’s jeans down her legs tugging them off without any difficulty.

Her own breathing hitched along with Buffy’s when he slid two fingers inside her pussy pumping against her clit. Hissing his name, Buffy slid her hands inside Spike’s jeans, returning the favor. His tee shirt followed and before she knew what was happening Spike had lowered himself and slid inside Buffy.

His gasped words were so low they were just erotic rumbles matching his thrusts. Buffy’s hands gripped his ass then her legs came up to wrap around his hips and Willow was drowning in the energy pouring from them in waves . . .

Until she was abruptly slammed back into her body by Dawn’s voice in her real ear.

“Ugh. Nosey much?”

There was real disgust both in her tone and in her expression. What she’d done earlier had been accidental, freezing her entire class because of her own inner turmoil. Tonight – that was deliberate. Intentional. And there was nothing at all that Willow could say in her own defense.


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

Dawn had stood there watching for about two minutes before she figured out a couple of things. First was her sister and Spike were at it again and um, that was like okay, but the second really creepy thing was Willow was standing there listening. And that was not only gross but really wrong.

So, like any good child when confronted with an “adult” in the middle of wrong doing, she’d called her on it.

And Willow’s quick retreat and totally guilty expression did nothing to help her cause. Dawn’s first thought was Buffy’s gonna wig followed quickly by but boy is Spike gonna be ripe for violence.

Shaking her head, Dawn headed for her original destination before going back to bed.


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

Buffy writhed beneath him, her inner muscles tightening around him. “God . . . Buffy . . . love this. . . Come for me kitten . . . uuhh“

His breath was cool against her, his lips deliciously chilly against her overheated skin. Buffy wanted this to never end . . . she was drowning, floating, soaring . . . beyond herself. She wanted him inside her . . .

“Spike. . . please . . . Spike.” She breathed into his mouth, her hands cupping his face. Her eyes stared up into his, awe etched deep within blue and hazel depths.

“Love . . . Buffy . . . so bloody much.” Spike thrust in so hard and far that he’d . . . “god kitten.”

“Now Spike . . . now.”

Clamping down Buffy arched up, body rigid and wound so tightly trembling from head to toe, keening his name as her orgasm slammed into her. Her inner muscles tightened around him, encasing him in silken steel and Spike lost himself in his own orgasm. Shuddering around him, Buffy bit down hard on his shoulder.

And Spike was instantly hard again within her warm depths his demon screaming now for release. Fangs elongated, ridges formed and Spike reared up on his knees dragging Buffy’s lower half with him. Bracing her feet around his hips, Buffy held on, softly shrieking his name in one long continuous moan. Her mind barely registered his state, her eyes seeing only him. Using her strong stomach muscles, Buffy pulled herself up, her fingers digging hard into his shoulders. Her lips captured his, her tongue seeking his. He growled into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips. He was pounding so hard and fast inside her she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t . . . . his name sounded in the air between them, her overheated body craving release. She wanted . . . Needed . . .

Wrapping her arms around him, Buffy held on. “Spike . . . oh . . . god. . . “

Her hands slipped, trying to find somewhere to hold on. “Spike please.”

His growls got louder, deeper, she could feel it inside, every delicious rumble . . . her name rolled from his throat as he thrust deep, hitting her cervix and Buffy whimpered from the pain-filled pleasure. Fighting back a scream, Buffy clamped down, her mouth on his shoulder and feeling her teeth in his skin, Spike growled, stilled his hips and pulled her back, so she could see him.

He was still in game face, still rock hard inside her. Buffy flexed around him, watching as his eyes nearly rolled back. He thrust inside, hard, making her gasp out, then growled his own response when she tightened around him again.

Her head dropped forward, resting on his shoulder and she licked his skin, sucking on the bite marks she’d left. His hips bucked as he ground out “playin’ with fire missy.”

And he was never so surprised when she purred in his ear. “Fire pretty.”

Spike closed his eyes and nuzzled her neck. His reward was Buffy writhing against him, and when he did it again, she moaned against him. “Oh . . . Spike. . . “

“Can’t . . . love . . . Need you . . . Buffy . . . “

“Yes . . . Spike . . . oh god.”

Slowly, almost gently, Spike slid his fangs against the salty skin of her neck, drowning in her scent. Buffy grasped the back of his neck, her breath sirocco hot against his skin. She whined his name, as he nicked his first bite, squeezing all around him.

When his teeth finally sank in, Buffy cried out his name, her body shaking with release. Her mind went blank and the whole world went dark as he exploded within her depths.

She slumped bonelessly in his strong arms, surrendering to him, safe, protected and loved.


 

45. Boundless as the sea.

He shall love my soul as though
body were not all,
he shall love your body,
untroubled by the soul,
love cram love’s two divisions
yet keep his substance whole.
William Butler Yeats, The Lady’s Second Song

Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.
Zora Neale Hurston

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Emily Brontë


Re-arranging rooms proved less of a problem than she’d anticipated. By unspoken agreement, they’d purposely waited until Willow left the house, to start playing musical rooms.

Buffy was moving around the contents of her drawers, aware of the huge shift her life had gone through in one night. She’d been deliberately low key about Tara moving into the basement room, hoping Spike would take it exactly the way she’d meant and not that she wanted him to leave. She should have known better.

Her vampire had understood without having to hear the words what she’d meant. So right now he was downstairs in the basement, clearing out his meager belongings, boxing them up to carry them upstairs into her room.

Was she ready for this? Not like he wasn’t already sleeping beside her every night. He was there every morning when she woke up and . . . so yeah, she was ready for this.

Shoving aside some old clothes, Buffy glanced around at her . . . now their room. Was it too girly for him? Would he even care? Looking around, she realized there was enough evidence that this move was merely a formality.

A second pair of his boots was in the corner, a couple of dirty tee shirts and a pair of jeans piled together with her dirty clothes, his favorite pillows mixed in with hers, candles on nearly every flat surface. Buffy wandered over to the bed, smoothing the sheets, rearranging the pillows. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, his hard length still inside her, and woken up several times throughout the early morning hours to find him still there. Once, he’d woken her, the slow slide of his length driving within her, his hips moving forward fractionally. The feel of him barely moving, but so solidly within her had been enough, his heavy breathing of her name triggering her own slow rolling orgasm.

He’d rolled onto his back then, pulling her along with him, her hip thrown over his, still embedded deep inside her. One hand on her ass, he’d nudged her closer, whispering, “go back to sleep kitten” as she’d slipped back into slumber.

Buffy grabbed his pillow, burying her face, breathing in his scent. Butterflies took flight in her belly, fluttering in a giant wave. So lost in the memories of this morning, she didn’t hear his footstep, nor his tentative step into the room.

He watched her for a moment, holding an unneeded breath. The pillow, his pillow, was in her hands, her eyes closed and a look on her face that he’d never seen before. She was beautiful, glowing, his golden girl . . . his sun, his moon . . . his all . . . his everything.

Spike stared at her, random lines of stolen poetry running through his brain, yet none of it did this moment justice.

His arms were full of cardboard and clothing but ached to take hold of her, wrap her in his arms, holding on for eternity.

Some noise must have escaped his throat, some sound reverberated in the air, because she slowly opened her eyes, unerringly finding his. A soft smile crossed her features, her eyes luminous and clear emerald. The box dropped from his arms tipping over as it fell. He moved toward her, slowly, inexorably, wanting to savor this feeling, this moment.

Her name breathed from his lips at the same time his sounded from hers. Reaching her, Spike dropped to his knees, his arms sliding around her waist. A single tear surfaced in her eyes and he smiled, pulling her close. Buffy’s arms closed around his shoulders holding him tight against her breasts.

“I love you.” He murmured against her and his heart almost beat when her arms tightened around him and she whispered his name.


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

Tara was going through her things, piling up everything haphazardly. She wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, packing up while Willow was gone, but she wanted to get a start on things before Willow returned from morning classes.

They’d spoken briefly before Willow had left, but not of anything significant. The redhead had asked if she was all right, then asked pointedly if they could talk this afternoon.

She suddenly wasn’t so sure that moving down to the basement was the right thing to do. They’d be forced to still see each other all the time and Tara wasn’t sure that was a good idea. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be easy. But she really really didn’t want to leave. And judging by Buffy’s statements last night, they didn’t want her too either.

That made her happy. Made her heart smile. This really was home. She heard Spike come up the stairs, his familiar heavy tread a comfort. When had he ceased to be just an annoying pest and become something more? A part of her family? A rock of strength?

For her it had been when he’d punched her, proving to herself and the world that she wasn’t part demon. She’d always be grateful to him for that.

Smiling again Tara gathered up some clothes and headed to Buffy’s room.

She stopped at the doorway, captivated by the scene in front of her. Spike was on his knees, his arms around Buffy’s waist, her arms around his shoulders. They were staring at each other but she could only see the look on Buffy’s face.

Huh.

She’d known Spike was head over heels in love with her but she’d never guessed Buffy completely returned those feelings. Judging by the look on Buffy’s face Tara had no doubt what the other girl was feeling. Tara closed her eyes not wanting to intrude.

But the vision remained even as she backed away. They were surrounded by soft light, flashing colors of pink and green and blue and gold, shimmering in the air around them. She had no idea how much either of them believed in aura readings but she did. And what she’d just seen had stolen her breath.

That, she thought, was what love’s energy looks like.


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

Midmorning sunlight filtered in through the drawn curtains, bathing the room indirectly, warming it despite the opened windows. Neither one of them was sleeping, though her eyes were closed, Buffy again curled up in his arms. His eyes roved over her face, noting the stress lines disappearing, the haunted look she’d carried slowly leaching away. No matter to him, she was beautiful, his entire world encompassed in her eyes, her hands.


He’d thought, with Drusilla, that he knew what love was, knew the heights and depths of that emotion, the breadth of sensation. How very wrong he was. That night of revelation, when he’d woken from what he’d come to term The Dream, opened his eyes to his love for Buffy. Only opened his eyes. It took months of yearning, watching her from across the gulf separating them, to learn what real unrequited love was. Then she let him in, because of his selfless act to protect her sister, and he learned what it was to be close to her.

When she died, he learned what real grief was. His heart had disintegrated that early morning, wept for what might have been, when her body hit the ground, shattered, broken, lifeless. He’d wept too, those long nights in between, when Dawn had sought him out for comfort, his tears mingling with hers. He wept in silence too, alone in his grief, unwilling to share with it anyone else.

Just as the pain was beginning to age, but not die, just as he was adjusting to being without her, she appeared. Returned. Alive. And, for the most part, whole and in one piece. To be able to hold her, see her, smell her . . . Just be near was enough. Or so he’d thought.

Now he wasn’t content to just be near her. Spike wanted to drown himself inside her, hold her close and not ever, ever let her go again. In the deepest dark part of night, when she slept within the circle of his arms, her heartbeat thumping against his still chest, her breathing rolling across his arms or chest, Spike quite often found himself imagining it was all a dream his grief-filled heart and mind had conjured up. That she wasn’t back. But she was. And she was with him, wanting him, needing him. There were times when he touched her just to convince himself. When he watched her sleeping beside him, safe and sound. Content to just watch her.

Which was what he was doing at this moment. Just watching her. His thumb brushed against her cheek, his fingers twining in her hair. Should he live for another hundred years, he’d never ever forget these moments, nor the way her body felt wrapped around his. The heat, the absolute delicious heat of her encircling him, her muscles contracting around him, speeding them both toward climax.

Spike sighed softly against her forehead, feeling her eyes open, as her fingers flexed around his waist. Lines of long remembered poems drifted in and out of his head, none of them equal to her, they were words, and thankfully none of his own, though he was craving for the ability to put pen to paper and make a sad poor attempt once more. Without much conscious thought, Spike’s voice drifted softly in the air, drawing her attention to his lips.

“Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, with eyes of gold and bramble-dew, steel-true and blade-straight, the great artificer made my mate.” She said nothing, waiting breathlessly for his next words, just watching his averted eyes.

“Honour, anger, valour, fire; a love that life could never tire, death quench or evil stir, the mighty master gave to her.” He smiled a bit, his hand reaching out to lay just underneath her ear, resting on her cheek.

“Teacher, tender, comrade . . . “ and his voice hitched and broke, breathed more than whispered, “wife.” He paused for so long that Buffy thought he wasn’t going to continue, but then he recovered and his voice sounded out again “a fellow-farer true through life, heart-whole and soul-free, the august father gave to me.”

Her eyes were bright and wide. Spike ducked his head, unwilling to let her see the depth of his emotions swimming in his eyes. Warm fingers brushed across his lips, drawing his face down to hers. The kiss was chaste, given the fact they were both naked, but carried a wealth of emotion he was suddenly afraid to analyze. He pressed their bodies together, rolling half onto his back, bringing her with him. Spike closed his eyes, content to just listen to the cadence of her heart beat, feel her resting over him like a living blanket.


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


Sooner or later, it was bound to happen. Once certain wheels were set in motion, triggered by events sometimes out of the control of the people they effect, the inevitable does occur.

It was just as likely to have come from him as it was from any other source, the demon world, especially that surrounding the hellmouth, abounded with rumors.

So Wesley wasn’t entirely surprised when Angel loomed over him, accusation and betrayal in his dark eyes.

“When were you going to tell me?” His hands fisted on the desk top, as Angel leaned across to confront him.

“About what precisely?” He looked up not at all intimidated by Angel’s demeanor.

“What’s going on in Sunnydale, Wes?” The vampire didn’t move, didn’t back away at all.

Neither did the human. “Why don’t you tell me what you think you know?”

“I’ve heard things” was all Angel would say.

Losing patience with this unnecessarily cryptic conversation, Wesley tossed his pen on the desk, saying, “the point Angel, if you have one?”

“Oh, I”ve got a point.” Angel stood up to his full height, flexing his broad shoulders. “Rumors are flying that there’s a slayer in Sunnydale again. What do you know about that?”

“There is.” Wesley wasn’t going to lie, as much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted to protect them, Angel would find out the truth and then there would be hell to pay.

“Did you see the new slayer while you were there?”

Ah, so he thought this was Buffy’s replacement, not the girl herself, maybe he could buy them some more time. Wesley didn’t know why, nor could he explain it, but he’d liked William the Bloody. He hadn’t been at all what he’d expected, nor had his welcome been anything at all like his first stint in Sunnydale. They’d welcomed him, made him feel at home, part of them and he’d enjoyed that feeling. Would like to repeat it.

“No. No I didn’t meet the new slayer.” Gauging the other man’s reaction to see if Angel thought he was lying, Wesley watched him pace around a bit.

“You were there for a couple of days, you mean to tell me you didn’t meet her?”

“No Angel, I didn’t meet the new slayer. She’s apparently a bit antisocial, not adjusting well to her circumstances.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, any of it.

“Oh.” His response totally took the wind out of Angel’s pending explosion.

“Spike still there?” It was almost an after thought, but Wesley wasn’t fooled.

“Yes, protecting Dawn.”

“Good. Okay then.”

And then as quickly as he’d arrived in Wesley’s office, Angel departed.

The Englishman waited ten minutes or so, then called the house.

Spike’s voice answered on the third ring.

“Lo.”

“Hello.”

“Oxford.” The vampire was immediately wary. They’d talked about this, that last long night when they’d drunk themselves silly and Spike knew there was only one reason Wesley would be calling him.

“He’s asked about the new slayer.”

“Bloody hell. Only a matter of time then.”

Wesley sighed a little, then agreed. “More than likely, he’ll probably call the house. He’ll assume our counterpart won’t talk, probably hoping. . . ”

“He’ll get Niblet on the horn an’ pry the info from her. Right.”

“Its something he would do.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell the girls.”

They both avoided using names, neither one knowing how many ears were listening or who those ears belonged to.

“Ta mate. ‘Preciate the info.”

“Pass along my greetings to everyone.”

“Will do.” There was a brief pause, then “Oxford. Don’t be a stranger.”

It was probably the closest thing to an admission that Spike had enjoyed his company as much as Wesley had.

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

Buffy caught sight of his face after hanging up the phone and knew immediately something was wrong. “Spike?”

When he didn’t answer her, she tried again, “Spike, what was Wes calling about?”

So she had heard. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with the imminent arrival of everyone. It was just after two in the afternoon and Giles and the girls were due at any moment. He was hoping they’d never have to face this, but that was nothing more than wishful thinking on his part.

Raising his eyes to hers, Spike fought the impulse to lie. “Oxford says Angel’s heard about a new slayer bein’ in town.”

She was stunned. “A new? Here?” Rolling her eyes she surprised him by shrugging “obviously telephone game still works not so well.”

“Huh?” He wasn’t following her.

“Information breakdown. Too much repetition and information goes wonky.”

“Right.” Looking at her intently, he asked, “you’re not worried about the poofter?”

“Nope. Should I be?” Buffy perched on the kitchen stool, watching him.

“Dunno pet. Figured you’d wanna hide me away from himself.”

“Spike. We talked about this. We’re good.” Looking back at him, she could see he wasn’t completely reassured, but it was okay, or it would be. She wasn’t worried about Angel, was more worried about Willow and Tara.

And she really didn’t want to think about Angel at all right now.

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

Giles was the first one to arrive but Spike almost expected that. He’d sounded like he had much on his mind when he’d called earlier.

His greeting upon arrival had reflected that, or so Spike thought, and his first real sentence, “is Willow home?” reinforced that thought.

“Red’s not back yet. Expect her soon though. What’s up Rupert?”

“Tara’s the only one besides us home. Why Giles?”

“There’s something I’d like to ask you, Buffy, if I may.” His glasses were on, so that was good. But his next words stole her breath.

“When were you going to tell me Willow took you from heaven?”

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