Her moans and sighs of pleasure pressed upon the still air of her room, her window closed against any interference outside. Legs became caught, entangled in dampened sheets as she writhed to the tune of his passion. She couldn’t help but whimper at his touch, the cool stroke of fingers against the skin of her ass making her arch off the mattress, hands grasping frantically for something to hold.

Lost in sensorial bliss, she suddenly stilled as fingers sought her centre. Burning heat and liquid smoothed and spread over her sensitive button, fingers inserting inside her slick but scorching hole. Motion began again as she felt the nearing of something explosive, something monumental, and just as his fingers massaged her to the edge, she sat up gasping, squealing his name.

“Spike!”

Oh God! She itched and wriggled while sitting up in her bed, almost sobbing with frustration. When through will alone she popped, her satisfaction gushing down her legs, she was suddenly grateful for whatever impulse had told her to go to bed pantyless that night.

It wasn’t until she sank back against the pillows that she recognised the name she had called the vampire she had been lusting after had not been Angel. For long moments she felt no guilt. Felt nothing but the immense happiness that she had felt something so mindblowingly stunning.

Something so adult.

Something so incredibly naughty and exciting.

It was almost ten minutes later that she finally realised that Angel had never inspired such a dream, such a reaction from her.

And then she did feel guilty. She felt her words come back to smack her up the side of the face, the denial to Spike that Angel was her boyfriend. It was just lust, pure and simple. Lust making her do the wacky, making her want the bad soulless vampire. And that was undeniable. She so did want the soulless vampire. Preferably on his knees.

Beyond the words, were her actions. Thinking of Angel had never made her tear up her bed in dreamlike passion, had never made her squirm against his make-believe cold tongue. Which just emphasised again how twisted and wrong it all was. She loved Angel. Didn’t she? Feeling a little with the not so much, what with her body still vibrating from the heated tingles of Spike dreams. Again, this thing with Spike? Lust. Nothing more, nothing less. And what was wrong with her for lusting after the evil creatures?

Feeling a circular bout of reproach about to springboard her morning, Buffy raised her determined body and made quick time to the bathroom. A nice hot shower would put it all out of her head. Of course, hot…hmmm, Spike was hot, his eyes, his body, his moves, his touch. Lusty wantage, bad Buffy!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Buffy wasted no time in getting ready for school, now that guilt was settling over her like an oppressive apocalyptic shroud. It was always with the bad, whatever happened to her, whatever she felt. She was so beyond being patient while waiting for the good. Angel was good. Buffy just had to cling to that. A big beautiful soul made Angel number one good in her book, and as sexy as Spike might be, and as dangerously gorgeous his lips wereespecially when they were sucking the life out of her from her own lips he was off limits.

OFF LIMITS. She would just have to internally shout it to herself for the entire day. Maybe then it would sink in. Might be good if she didn’t seek him out either.

Which was how she found herself backtracking to the factory where she had seen him with the black widow nutbag. Back to the same grimy window she had spied through the previous night. Now she just felt like a little, well, spy. She was patient for all of two minutes, tapping the wall with her fingers ready to storm in and have a few words with the mysterious yet hot vampire, and try to work out his vile evil plan. Buffy had been a Slayer now for long enough to know that there was always an evil plan.

All thoughts of slayerly spyage on the nasty vampire fled as a shirtless Spike wandered into her line of vision. Almost gasping for breath, Buffy slapped a hand over her mouth and allowed her eyes to continue hanging outside her head.

“Whoa Mamma,” she felt like screaming as her greedy eyes sucked up the sculpted goodness that was Spike’s torso. She licked her lips like she’d just survived a week in the dessert with no water, and felt herself losing control as her fingers itched to touch. Lines and hard curves dipped and swayed over his abdomen, and she redefined the word ‘cut’.

Working up the courage to discard her earlier suspicions for the feel of soulless goodness the likes of which Angel could never satisfy, she was about to jump from her hiding spot when the familiar brunette in question came strolling through the room.

“You’re early,” she heard Spike say just as she ducked back against the wall. Her heart began to thud with an out of control fear of being caught ogling the sexy vamp that was not him. He may have had suspicions last night while she had been riveted to the sights and events through the dirty window, but she didn’t think he would be so much with the understanding at her new bout of dreamy watching, particularly as there was school skippage involved.

The continuation of the conversation between her two vamps dragged her back to the moment and she got as close to the window as she could without being seen. No eyes or noses twitched in her direction, so she was taking that as a good sign of how far away she was to avoid vamp senses.

“I thought it would be better for me to show up now and catch you out in whatever evil plan you have for Buffy.” The brunette vampire stated his reason for visiting with such a cold, detached voice that Buffy nearly shuddered.

“Told you, mate. I have no evil plan for Buffy. I’m gonna help her, and if you think you’re puttin’ me through the third bloody degree about it again, I’ll stake your arse.”

Buffy felt a little puffed up at the confident way Spike confirmed his help, and then her eyes shot wide at the very real sound of a zipper lowering.

“Can’t you wait till I’ve gone, William?”

“Nope,” she heard along with the unmistakable thump of jeans hitting the cement floor. Or at least it sounded like jeans hitting the floor, and as she quickly gathered her nerve and peeked round the corner of the window, the perfect nude physique standing proud confirmed her ears. Which were now flaming red. Right along with the rest of her face and the tongue that was hanging out of her mouth.

“Oh God,” she lusted quietly to herself, just knowing that tonight’s set of dreams were going to be even hotter now that she was fired by a vision of the real thing.

“You want to barge in while I’m preparing for bed, Angelus, then you’re lucky enough to score a looksie. Bugger off to Dru, then. Just tell the minions I sent you.” Spike turned away, gathering together a blanket as he curled up on a single bed propped up against a wall, already ticking off his mental checklist as he dismissed his grandsire. Dust minions, find a new place to call home, see Buffy, find the Gem…

“Oh, and Peaches? You’d better have something set up for her tonight, cause I’ll be movin’ out. An’ like I warned you, she’s not comin’ with me.”

The bleached vamp flung himself backward on the mattress with renewed enthusiasm and quickly gave the elder vampire his equally sculpted back, which Buffy wasted no time ogling and memorising. Angel promptly marched from the room following an annoyed glare at Spike’s back.

With his body turned away from the window and the room otherwise empty, Buffy risked a little more proximity, and she leaned forward, eyes glazing over at the sight of his perfectly muscular and smooth back. The roundness of the ball of his shoulder made her mouth water, the sleek line of his neck exposed pale milky skin, extremely lickable, and yet emphasised by the gently curling platinum strands. Her panties were feeling rather sodden but she just couldn’t tear herself away, couldn’t let go of the hope that she might catch a glimpse of something else while she was being a nasty little voyeur.

Her breath hitched in her throat as Spike rolled, his eyes remained closed and that was the only thing that kept her from bolting. The blanket he’d draped over his nude frame had slipped, barely brushing over a hip as one leg fell over the side of the small bed.

Buffy could feel the heat spreading through her, could feel the intense need not just in her fingers to touch and trace all the magnificent lines revealed on his body, but also deep in places that were yet innocent of the things she couldn’t help but think about now. She wanted so much to give in and crawl through the window, climb into that bed and let the blond peel off all her clothes. Caught up in that fantasy she almost missed the guttural grown that passed the supposedly sleeping vamp’s lips as his hand sunk below the edge of the blanket. The new tenting of the blanket, and movement from underneath had Buffy scrabbling down fast and racing away from the building.

School was a welcome destination for the first time never and she walked faster just to get away from where she’d been. Her face was flaming, but Buffy considered that even a dressing down from Snyder would be welcome right now if it took her mind from what Spike’s hand just might have been about to do under that blanket.

Buffy gulped. Then she smiled and felt herself get all gushy and warm. For a few wicked minutes, she pondered the sensation and Spike’s reaction if she could replace his wandering hand with her more than enthusiastic tongue.

Buffy blushed hard again as she tried desperately to stop herself thinking of things she had no right to be. No reason to be. ‘No desire to be’, she lied to herself.

Images of her angelic-looking boyfriend fled on a wave of lust that nearly brought her trembling to her knees. And overtaking her sweet schoolgirl crush on him was his grandchilde, one gorgeous package of male flesh that made her die with wanting.

Buffy stopped dead in the corridor, suddenly being lost in a swarm of bodies as the bell rang and the student body exploded en masse from the various classrooms. Lost in a daze of sexual longing, Buffy made her way to the library, successfully making it through nothing more than pure instinct.

She was jolted from her sensual contemplation of manly soft lips, a pointed but wicked tongue and a kiss that could stop time, by the strident welcome of her best male friend. Feeling a little spooked and on the spot, Buffy was uncomfortably aware that all of her body heat now suddenly resided in her feet.

“And it’s a late good morning to the Buffster. Did you have residual vampires to slay?”

Buffy flushed, thinking of how thoroughly she was slaying Spike last night and couldn’t help but grin.

“Definitely a heavy night with the slayage,” she answered cheekily, secure in knowing that she was the only one who knew what she meant. Doing a quick sweep of the room, her eyes fell on Willow and Cordelia, the brunette looking a little worse for the wear but masking it well with the wonders of Maybelline. But then, maybe she was just born with the ability to look fresh despite painting over extremely heavy bags under the eyes.

Thank God for Willow. Buffy made her way to her friend, rather desperate for a personal conference and unloading of the lusty moments she’d had with the new big bad vampire.

“Wills and Cordy were late today, too,” Xander informed her dutifully. “Seems they weren’t sure that they were safe from the vamps roaming the school till the sun came up. Stayed here all night, in the janitors closet.” Xander sat fully serious, until a little tittering from Buffy sparked a deep-seated need for merriment. Within seconds he had collapsed on the floor, laughing heartily at the two girls who favoured him with irritated glares.

“Yes,” began Giles as he cleared his throat of his discomfort. “We should all be rather ashamed that we forgot to find Willow and make sure she was alright.”

“Hey,” shouted Cordelia, poised for flight in her indignation. “I was there, too. My life was threatened as much as geeky Willow’s was. Really feeling the love in this room,” she called back as she stomped from the room, the door swinging closed behind her.

“I’m sorry, Willow. It was rather a bizarre night, but I should have found you. Mom herded me to the car, though…and I guess, well, I forgot.” Buffy finished on a note of shame. And another dose of the ready guilt being served up on rather large platters today.

“That’s okay,” smiled Willow, before she settled resolve face on her features. “Just don’t leave me like that with Cordelia again. It was a very traumatic experience.”

Buffy giggled as she imagined Willow and bitchy Cordelia stuck in a closet for hours.

“What did you do?” she asked, awe giving her new respect for the tolerance of her best friend.

“Prayed,” Willow deadpanned and they both broke into a rush of giggles. “So, how did your night go really? I guess the bad vamp got away?”

Buffy couldn’t move. Everything that had happened between Spike and herself felt like it had been going on for days, pulling and twisting with her natural reaction to things in what felt like forever. But in one sentence, Willow reminded her that all the vamp lovin’ had been taken over just one night. That just blew her mind.

“Ah, things kind of ended up undusty with the vamp.” Buffy quickly snagged Willow by the arm, threading her arm through and linking them, she gently nudging the redhead out of the library.

“Willow and I are gonna go get some lunch,” she called to Giles over her shoulder and, not waiting for a response, tugged Willow out of the building.

When they finally stopped and sat beneath a shady tree, Buffy found Willow to be watching her with a stern expression on her face.

“Okay, give.”

Buffy looked at her friend and felt her words do the ramba in her mouth and tangoed right out of sight. Her mouth remained open but inactive.

“Buffy, you’re beginning to scare me. What happened? Couldn’t you kill him? Was that Spike vampire too strong?”

“Pffft! Too strong? No way,” Buffy denied, her voice carrying an inflection of righteousness. She was so repressing the fact that he could have killed her easily when they sparred the night before, what with the mysterious trombones and vampire temper tantrums. “Actually, we kinda didn’t get to the fighty part.” Well, not officially, she fudged mentally. Her voice definitely lost volume the longer she spoke, and Willow was straining to catch everything Buffy said.

Willow fixed Buffy with a confused raised eyebrow, and Buffy looked at the interesting grass and squirmed.

“But when he jumped through the window, he was all…” Willow posed her fists in the air and feinted gentle punches. “Pow.”

Buffy giggled. “Pow?”

“And Kazam. Don’t forget that part. So, what happened?” Willow sat on her patch of ground and waited patiently for the story.

“Well, he kind of made with the hugging, and then the kissing, and then there was a little…touching…” Buffy blushed hotly.

Willow gasped, but before she could recover from the surprise of that, Buffy rushed on to tell of her later meeting with the vamp. Finally she stopped, breathless as though her romp with the vampire last night had only just concluded.

“Wow,” was the redhead’s initial response. “And just, wow, and then Angel? Wow. I don’t envy you,” she muttered as she took a bite of her sandwich. And then her eyes shot wide as a thought seemed to take her over.

“So is he a better kisser than Angel?” Willow grinned as she saw the blissful expression spread over Buffy’s face. After waiting a few minutes for her friend to come out of the trance that the sparked memory of Spike kisses seemed to put her in, Willow gave Buffy a none to gentle shove and giggled as Buffy ended up sprawled on the grass.

“Oh yeah,” she replied with a knowledgeable smirk. “Those kisses could make a girl forget her own name.”

Willow’s face suddenly clouded as her concerns returned. “Buffy, he isn’t trying to seduce you so he can kill you, is he?”

A cold shiver raced through the Slayer’s body as she contemplated the thought, and found that her heart started beating hard and painfully at the possibility that Spike might still want to hurt her.

“He doesn’t have a soul, Will. How can I know? I…” she paused, fighting against tears that suddenly wanted to push their way through her tough resolve. “He made me feel so alive, while we were fighting. He says he wants to help me patrol and stuff, and I know Angel does that. But he’s so with the mysterious, and the evasive, and…”

“And Spike gets you hot?”

Buffy sat in quiet contemplation, almost afraid to admit any more of her feelings. “Angel makes me feel all schoolgirlish. He’s cute, and strong and protective. I mean, a vampire with a soul? Can it be any more romanitc? But Spike? He makes me feel like a woman; he makes my eyes glass over and my body flush and my heart pound. Yeah, Wills,” she admitted quietly. “He gets me hot, but I think it’s more than that. But he could be just trying to get under my defences. It could be a big scary plan to make me vamp steak.”

Willow felt chilled at the sadness that suddenly surrounded her friend.

“I’m just so confused. I mean, I finally got it together with the whole ‘Master making me dead’ thing, and Angel and I were starting to get somewhere pretty nice…and then along comes this sexy blond vamp threatening to kill me, who practically kissed me to death. And I want to be with him, get to know him. But I don’t know if I can trust him.”

Willow remained speechless, playing with her shoelaces thoughtfully.

“Miss Calendar does magic. Maybe she knows of a spell or something to tell if he’s lying to you?” she finally offered and was glad when Buffy’s gentle smile reappeared. With an enthusiastic nod, Willow’s hand was seized and she was hauled to her feet and they went running back to the library.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Ah, Jenny. Just the woman I wanted to see.”

“Why Rupert, you can see me any time you wish,” the brunette offered with a saucy wink as she sashayed through the swinging library doors, sending Giles into a shy fit of glass cleaning.

“Yes, that would be…um…right…I had a visitor last night. He…ah…made some comments that, well, it brought a few things to light that I’m afraid to say I’m rather embarrassed to admit I hadn’t thought to investigate. He suggested that you might be the perfect person to ask, in fact.”

Jenny Calendar suddenly felt ill at ease, and watched Giles carefully.

“Who was your visitor,” she asked first, thinking it might give her the clue of how dangerous this discussion could become.

“It was Spike. Er, William the Bloody.”

“Spike came to see you last night?” Buffy interrupted as she and Willow walked through the library door.

“Yes, he came to talk.” Giles stopped his concentrated polishing and became introspective. “Actually, I’m not entirely sure what the purpose of his visit was, but we covered a number of things. Mainly that he had destroyed the Anointed One and is determined to keep Buffy alive. He seemed quite sincere. I did invite him into my flat,” he paused again and suddenly became quite pale. “Which in retrospect might have been rather foolish of me. Perhaps with Angel and his soul I have become rather more tolerant of vampires that offer their help.”

“What was it he thought I could help you with, Rupert?”

“Ah yes, he mentioned the fact that Angel’s soul was a curse given to him by Gypsies…”

“But we already know that, Giles. Angel, soul, equals we trust. New page, please.” Buffy waited, her body feeling springy and suddenly desperate for some kind of physical release.

“He reminded me as I hadn’t given it much thought, and that there are usually ways of breaking a curse. I believe that Angel himself might not try to relieve himself intentionally of his soul, but many others might see the advantages of restoring Angelus to his former glory. Particularly as he is probably the heir to the Master’s line now that he is, ah…”

“In many, tiny, itty bitty pieces,” offered Xander with his hand in the air.

Buffy continued looking at Giles, no change in her stance of consideration.

“Not a prob with the references, Giles. Get to the point, please.”

“Yes, well, Spike suggested to me that Jenny…” he turned to his potential romantic interest. “He thought that as you may have gypsy heritage yourself, you may be able to research the curse.” His smile was warm, but faded almost immediately at the frightened look on her face.

“Jenny, is something wrong?”

“How, how did he know I’m a gypsy? And, and to ask…about Angel?”

“I…” Giles paused to think back on the conversation with the vampire but found nothing strange or overly coincidental about the exchange. “He simply saw things that should probably have been obvious to me.”

“But, I…I’ve never even seen him. So, how does he know about me?”

“I’m not sure,” said Giles as he tipped his head to the side, glasses in his hand. “What is it exactly that is bothering you, Jenny?”

“I…” she closed her eyes a moment, knowing that she was about to break the code of her Clan but seeing the wisdom of their knowing about the curse.”

“Perhaps Spike is up to something, trying to mislead us by having us divert our attention to the less important issue of Angel’s soul?”

“No,” she corrected him suddenly. “I don’t think…” she paused, taking a deep breath, before raising haunted eyes to her crowd of listeners. “He’s right. I do know something. I belong to the gypsy clan that cursed Angel. There is a way he can lose it. I was sent here to make sure that that didn’t happen.”

A hush greeted her words before Buffy pushed her way forward and stood directly in front of the technopagan.

“What do you mean? Angel could lose his soul?” Buffy felt something niggling, something a little uncomfortable about the prospect of Angel not being Angel. But she quickly shrugged it off as not too serious. If Spike was the example these days of a soulless demon then she’d…Buffy couldn’t finish the thought, not wanting to lead to questions about the validity of her calling. These two vampires were simply different, probably from being of the same family.

“It’s a possibility.” The teacher’s voice broke through Buffy’s reverie.

“But it’s unlikely, though. Right?”

“It isn’t something that should be easy to achieve, and I don’t think we need to worry about random demons being able to cause it.”

Two hard stares confronted her and the teacher gulped hard, taking a measured step backwards.

“Angelus is not a demon to be underestimated. Tell us what you know.” Giles voice held a core of steel, something hard and bitter underlying the tone.

“If he should have a moment of perfect happiness…” The teacher and librarian shared a look of worried adult understanding as Buffy continued to think about what had been said.

“Well, that could be anything. Cryptic much? It could be…cookie dough ice-cream, or an extra fresh baggie of blood, or…”

“Or getting his hair gel to set just right?” Xander offered, with an answering chuckle from Willow.

Buffy glared at the two.

“I rather think it would be something more…meaningful to him, Buffy.” Giles’s voice cut through to her again and she answered with, “What could be more happy making than cookie dough ice-cream?”

Giles sent a pleading look to the newly outted gypsy as he resorted to polishing his glasses again in discomfort.

“I think Rupert means the happy you get through making love.” The matter-of-fact way the woman delivered the viewpoint was almost comical in its lack of discomposure, and the entire room stood solid in shock.

All eyes suddenly turned to Buffy and she squirmed in humiliation.

“Ewww. Not with the happiness giving, thanks.” Buffy shuddered. Thoughts of Angel helping her shed her clothes before a night of shared loving--a thought that had featured regularly in her dreams before the blond evil menace had invaded them--made her heart suddenly ache with the futility. It was a risk she couldn’t take. And the slayer stomped across the room and flopped down into a chair at the table, idly flicking through a book on vampires and gasping when she found a picture of Angel.

“I was looking up the Order of Aurelius this morning,” Giles explained at her questioning eyes. “I thought after my chat with Spike that I should re-familiarise myself with Angelus and even William the Bloody. I…I’m still not sure I can trust him. But Jenny,” he said as he turned back to the gypsy lady he was interested in getting to know better. “It is important that we know these things. Angelus is not a vampire that we really want to have to confront.”

Buffy read a few paragraphs quietly, her heart rising in her throat as she encountered tales of gore and murder and sweeping evil through continents. When the next paragraph began to describe forms of torture he preferred, she shut the book closed with a loud snap.

“It’s no big, though, right? I mean, if he loses his soul, then we can just curse him again. Right?” Her voice began to rise in panic, not entirely sure from what but knowing instinctively that she didn’t want to have to fight Angel to the death, even if he was evil again.

“It’s not exactly as easy as that,” Miss Calendar told her quietly. “The curse was lost from my family years ago.”

Buffy looked like she had been slapped and succumbed to a terrible sense of foreboding.

“Then, I guess we make sure the happiness having isn’t.”

Giles raised a brow in amusement at her.

“Oh no. You put that eyebrow away, Mister. This conversation topic is now closed. And I’m going to class.” Buffy pivoted on her heel and strode fast from the library, a surprised Xander and Willow following her, tossing a quick, “bye” over their shoulders.

It left the adults alone in the room together.

“Y-you planned on keeping this a secret from us, didn’t you?” He looked at her quickly, lowering his eyes once again as he struggled with his desire to get to know her better and anger that something horrific could have been sprung on them without any forewarning.

“I’m sorry, Rupert. My clan didn’t want it known why I was here.”

“Why now? Why have you been sent to watch him now?”

She bowed her head, feeling bone weary, before taking the seat that Buffy had just vacated.

“He hasn’t really been close to happiness since he originally was cursed. Only since he has desired to help Buffy has he changed and tried to minimise the pain he feels from his guilt. I was sent here to make sure he didn’t veer any further from the purpose of the curse. He is meant to be in pain, Rupert. My people need for him to writhe in agony for what he did.” Her voice had transformed with the hard edge of vengeance and anger and Giles watched her, completely captivated. His eyes betrayed to her how beautiful he found her in the moment, and, suddenly embarrassed, he coughed and cleared his throat before changing the subject.

“I suppose then that Spike has already helped us with more than eliminating the Anointed One.” He picked up the book Buffy had discarded in distaste earlier and flicked through the pages to the entry under William the Bloody. “He has cut his own way through his share of devastation. How can we trust him? He has no soul.”

“What did you feel when he was talking with you?”

Giles pondered the query, and only felt more confused.

“I didn’t feel that he would turn on us. I felt like he genuinely cared about keeping Buffy alive. He made no move towards attacking me.”

Together they sat at the table, surprised yet hopeful in this new ally to their fight against evil.

Computer images of a curse not translated began to make more rapid journeys through her head, the niggling feeling that it might be needed making her skin crawl in anticipated anger and flaming current hatred.

As they continued their quiet contemplation, Jenny began to decipher mentally, the urgency not ignored as something essentially gypsy forced her to acknowledge her own power.

If Angelus was to ever reappear, she would make sure this group of adolescents and the man she had come to care for wouldn’t go into battle without weapons.

As the caretaker to Angel’s soul, she would behave diligently to protect those who would need it. In doing so, she would preserve the wishes of her Clan, as well as gift the world with what was right.

She would begin work on deciphering the curse immediately.

Chapter Five

Spike flicked the goggles across the cavern and gave a massive whoop of success. The roar of the combined jackhammer and crumbling rock came to an abrupt understanding with the silence and watched as Spike did a series of fist pumping the air, joyous cheering and uproarious laughter.

“I did it. And they all said I couldn’t stick to a plan. No bloody faith.”

His grungy looking shirt was the next to be torn from his body and tossed aside. In glowing flesh, he pushed the crumbling rock around the hole in the wall aside and entered the long secret hidden chamber.

“I’ve struck bloody gold.” He laughed, noticing and roughly calculating the worth of the artifacts and jewellery surrounding him. “And this time, I’ll make sure I don’t lose any of it.” His fingers caressed the fine jewels he found—a bit on the gaudy side, but worth bucketloads of cash. He’d be willing to bet Joyce or Rupert would know the best way to cash it in and make sure he got as much as he could from it all.

But his eyes were magnetically drawn to the far skeleton, bedecked in horrible fashion and ostentatious jewellery. One piece stood out above all others; one piece that was immediately recognisable despite his very short association with it. Spike tore it from the bony finger and admired it happily before gingerly slipping it onto his own.

Tears gathered in his eyes and he slumped to the floor, cradling his head in his hands as his body began to shake uncontrollably. The changing message of the ring made him want to give in and weep. Weep for joy, and hope, and puppies and Christmas. No thought occurred to him of his indestructible status; this time he wasn’t out for power to kill and destroy. He gave in to images of Buffy in the sun, making love with Buffy in the light, bright rays bouncing off her skin and onto his but alighting nothing but passion. He could go to the beach with her, have picnics and go shopping, go with her to concerts in the park—provided Sunnydale actually had such posh events.

As his tears stemmed and flowed, stemmed and flowed according to the predominant thought, he recalled words, hateful words that foreshadowed the relationship he’d had with Buffy. His first go round with her he’d thought he had nothing to offer if he couldn’t place her anywhere but in his world, and so began his colossal fucking misrepresentation to her—she belonged in the dark with him. What a pile of complete bollocks. He should have been shot for suggesting such utter crap.

With the ugly ring that he’d coveted and now possessed, he had no reason to make the same mistake. Now he could offer her light, laughter in the sun with her friends and him at her side. So far from his former existence had he travelled it didn’t even occur to him to wonder at how dangerous this made him. His first time around, he’d had thoughts of murder and mayhem on his mind. This time, make love not war. That was his motto for this ring.

With another lingering look at the green stone, Spike bounced to his feet and went back through the hole to the cave, collected two medium sized copy paper boxes and returned. Almost in a daze of delirious possibility, he gathered everything he thought might be worth a pound or two and dumped it in the box. Pretty much everything fitthe only straggler being an extremely fine sword with a bejewelled handle, gilded and shining despite having been hidden for what was probably centuries.

Spike’s oceanic blues settled on the weapon and he nearly warped with wanting. He ignored it while he placed the lids carefully on the boxes, then, carrying the two with one arm he seized the sword almost jealously, giving the cavern a last sweeping look and then left it all for dust.

As strong as he was, Spike soon came to realise he wasn’t a bleeding circus juggler as he teetered back and forth trying to not drop the lot. He heaved a useless sigh of relief once he emerged from the mouth of the cave and took the few steps to his grounded Desoto. Keys inserted, he popped the boot and put his stash inside, bouncing in pure joy for the first time since he and Buffy had shagged.

He was standing under shady trees, but dappled splatters of sunshine sprinkled across his coat arms and he stared at the spots in amazement. Unlike the last time, he stopped and took it in, let his coat fall from his shoulders and watched as the sun played against his alabaster skin.

“Best not let the sun burn,” he told himself ironically, and his smile chased the sun as he headed behind the wheel of the car. Only when his bare back hit the leather of the bench seat did he notice his lack of clothing. Hauling himself back out of the car, Spike rifled through his bag in the back seat and came up with his staple black T-shirt. Pulling it roughly over his head, he frowned at his duster that was still lying discarded in the dirt, and chuckled at how the prospect of living in the light had wiped everything from his mind, including his precious coat.

Suitably attired, he found himself behind the wheel of the Desoto and driving over bumps and sticks until he once again rolled over asphalt. The grin was yet to leave his face as he rolled to a stop outside Giles’s apartment complex.

The cocky walk was evident as he made it to the path, turning back briefly to scan the surroundings and wonder how safe it might be to leave his haul in the boot of his car. For long seconds Spike stood indecisive, wondering if he should take his boxes inside or get Giles out here to find a better place to hide the treasures.

Finally, deciding he’d look a mite conspicuous walking into a fella’s home with a dirty big sword, he was swayed to the side of getting help first. With a definite light spring to his step and a hummed tune from his lips, Spike beat a path in the sunlight to Giles’s door.

Two hard knocks ought to do it, he thought in distraction, watching how the sun played chasies with shadows in the courtyard.

His laugh was infectious and Giles found himself smiling as he opened the door, not immediately clicking the phenomena of Spike standing in the sun.

“Well, you seem remarkably chipper,” he remarked in a matching mood, and Spike smiled even wider. The change in the old man’s reception of him caused some small melting of the hardness coating Spike’s dead heart, something so totally different to the way they were to treat him in the future. He might never have guessed that his few lousy death threats would have had this much impact, and just hoped that it would stay this light and carefree.

It never even occurred to Spike that it wasn’t necessarily his own actions that had caused the prejudice in the Scooby group, but the devastation of Angelus. That the paternal evil vampire completely played the torture game and visited emotional torment on this man in particular, was something that forced the lack of trust to be at the forefront of any Slayer /Vampire relations following.

“Wondered if I could borrow your muscles for a mo? Got some boxes that I was hopin’ you might look after for me till I can find a safer place.”

Giles nodded and, propping his door open, followed Spike to his beaten black classic.

“Like old cars, then, do you?” he asked conversationally, wondering what the vampire would think of his Citroen.

“Not in general. Got a bit of a soft spot for this beauty,” Spike answered while patting the less than shiny coat of paint. Giles released a disappointed sigh and watched as Spike popped the boot and began to lift out the boxes.

As one box was passed to him, Giles noticed the bright sun glaring on the sidewalk and looked at Spike in sudden nervousness. He took a step back, stumbling slightly from the heaviness of the load in his arms.

“Y-y-you, you’re in the sunlight.”

Spike stopped what he was doing and stayed still. No sudden moves as he could smell the slight tang of fear in the gentle breeze.

“I’ll tell you all about it, Rupert. Don’t go thinkin’ anything nasty and sinister. Look, let’s just get this stuff inside and I’ll reveal all. Alright?”

The older human nodded and Spike sighed that he wasn’t going to be challenged or ‘outed’ while still standing in the street. Before grabbing the second box, he slid the sword under his coat, away from prying eyes, and closed up the car. Following closely behind Giles, he heaved a sigh of relief once the Watcher’s door was closed and the newly liberating sunshine was off his back. The sensation of warmth was too new for him to want to take it for granted just yet.

Without asking, Giles removed the lid of his own box and gasped in shock.

“What is all this?” he demanded as his hands delved into the pile of gold and sparkling stones.

“There was this legend, see. A gem that could make vampires impervious to harm. Stakes, sunlight, crosses can’t hurt or kill them.”

Giles watched the vampire with horrified understanding. “And you have found the Gem of Amara? I thought it was just a legend.”

Spike took a while to think before finally nodding his head in concession. He shouldn’t be surprised that the Watcher knew about the gem.

“Look Rupes, before you start gettin’ all paranoid, I don’t plan to kill you. Look, lets go out, to the beach maybe, get some lunch and have us a chat.”

“You don’t expect me to watch you pick off a sunbather, do you?” Giles had retreated tactfully behind his dining table, and Spike clenched his jaw at how hard it was to earn trust. For the first time he could ever remember, he cursed his condition as a vampire.

“Actually, I’ve got a bit of a hankerin’ for some fish and chips, but that’s prolly not likely in good ole Sunny D.”

Giles offered his first smile of camaraderie since Spike’s revelation and decided to move back to stand in front of the vampire.

“These things you have here are quite valuable. What were you planning to do with them, can I ask?”

“Pretty sure you just did, mate!” Spike grinned, feeling the groove of his good humour rebuilding at the thought of his plan. “Want to sell it if I can, get the best price and what not. Thought it might be a good idea to set up a trust fund for Buffy, just incase she should ever need it.”

Spike couldn’t help but become lost in thoughts of the blond he loved and so for the most part missed the look of surprised admiration on the Watcher’s face.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Spike could feel himself throb with the suggestion and tried to calm himself down.

“I’m lookin’ out for her best interests.” His reply was stubborn.

“You know she thinks she is in love with Angel, don’t you?” Giles couldn’t help pointing out the obvious, even if his judgement of this paradox was beginning to put Spike ahead of Angel.

“That poof is no good for her. He’ll hurt her in every way.”

Giles blanched at the cool, confident claims Spike offered him.

“He has a soul,” Giles argued, but got no further as Spike began to huff and pace in a frenetic manner around his living room.

“Do you know how bloody sick to the back teeth I am of hearing about the Great One’s almighty soul? It’s worthless. What does it even mean? He’s on the side of good? Well, so am I. I’ll do anything for her, and even you lot, as bloody irritating and useless as you all can be. I won’t leave her, I won’t hurt her, and I don’t have a soul to lose. And let me tell you, Watcher, an Angel without soul is far from a pretty sight.”

Given the evidence and the passion with which the blond vampire spoke, Giles felt more than compelled to agree with him. He accepted the argument, and silently he rooted for Spike. He had an odd feeling that there was something rather special about this one. He claimed he had no soul, didn’t want a soul, but there was something already there. Something that brought him so far into the light, almost unknowingly onto the road to redemption, that it was too late for him to turn back. And Giles was hit with the genuine feeling that Spike seemed to put everything behind him and moved on.

He looked hard at the contents of the box again and could see that if the other contained even half the treasures of the first, then Spike was in for possessing a rather large sum of money. That he wanted to put it into supporting Buffy was almost beyond Giles’s comprehension, but he would fully support it.

“I think it might be safer if we took these over to Joyce’s gallery. I am sure she would have a safe and could store these for you until we can work out the best way of selling them. Perhaps an auction would be a way to go. Keeps it all rather anonymous.”

Spike watched Giles in disbelief. His whole argument was shot down with silence. He’d mounted this worthy wall of rage to defend his actions and he was stopped in his shoes with tacit acceptance. His relief made him shake.

“Sounds like a ruddy marvellous idea. Never actually been to Mum’s gallery.” He perked up considerably at the idea of seeing Buffy’s mum and wondered if she stocked hot chocolate in her office. Probably not, he concluded sadly.

“And the gem?”

Spike’s attention returned to Giles with a thump, and he watched carefully for any further signs of fear.

“Can we go for that walk, have some grub and talk about it then? Jus’ let me enjoy some sun for the first time in over a century?”

Giles softened enough to offer a warm smile.

“Of course. And what were you planning to do with the sword you’ve got hidden beneath your coat?”

Spike beamed as he pulled it out, wielding it in expert arcs to the side of Giles, hoping the Watcher could see the beauty of the thing.

“See the pretty stones in the handle? Thought Buffy might like it. You know, as a birthday present.”

Giles nodded again in approval, and gave in to his curiosity. “It is rather stunning. I’m sure she will very much approve of it.”

“Don’ want her to approve of it, chum. Want her to feel it. Feel the way it talks and whispers its secrets. Reckon it’d be perfect for a Slayer.” Spike seemed to become mesmerised by the glistening blade as he cut circles in the air.

Giles picked up his box, lid now intact and indicated that Spike should do the same.

“Perfect time to drop these off to Mrs. Summers before the gallery closes, and then we can see about finding some chips at least. Not sure about fish, here. But the beach sounds like the perfect place for a chat.”

The two men carried their load back to the car, Giles locking the door after Spike’s later exit, stashing the sword for the meantime under the sofa.

Downtown traffic was quick and they reached the gallery after a comfortable silence in the car. Giles kept quiet, wanting desperately to give in to his inner researcher and ask a multitude of questions about the gem, about how Spike felt in the sun, about what he planned to do with it. But he could accept that the vampire wanted to wait before saying anything. Wanted to sort out the housing of his loot first.

A quick meeting with Buffy’s mother reminded Spike that he hadn’t really had much to do with her yet, and he found himself surprised. Seeing her had been difficult, though. He found himself wanting to bury his head in her shoulder and hold her hard, hang onto her life and never let it seep away from her. Ask her advice on how to help Buffy the best.

But this wasn’t his Joyce. Not yet anyway. Right now, she was someone he needed to relearn, and he had every intention of becoming her new best friend. When she died again, he wanted to be there to offer comfort to the grieving, and strength where needed. And he wanted to have someone care enough about him to help soothe his pain.

With a tear hidden deep in his eye, they had left the goods under lock and big steely vault before turning the big car to the surf.

While Spike sat at a bench, face tipped upward to soak in the rays, Giles had been dispatched to locate what could pass for fish and chips. Spike looked at the man horrified when he returned and passed him a bag of fries and a fillet of fish, all embossed with the special golden arches logo.

“What the bloody hell is this? A happy meal?”

“It was all I could find,” Giles argued, petulance forming a pout. “It isn’t like you actually need to eat food, anyway.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Spike watched the bag as if he was expecting it to stand up and throw itself in the rubbish all on its own. When it didn’t move, he hesitantly pulled out the little red cardboard carton holding his fries and began to munch.

“So, the gem?” Giles found it difficult to tear his eyes away from the spectacle. He never knew that vampires could eat human food, knowing that Angel never did. Another thing to make Spike an anomaly to his breed. And admittedly, Giles was fascinated with this subject and eager to work him out.

“Yeah, ‘bout that. Look, I know it’s difficult for you lot to trust me, so how ‘bout I give you the ring when we get back and you can just hand it over if there are times it would be handy for me to be out in the day?”

Giles was yet again left speechless.

“You have found a way to make yourself resistant to becoming destroyed, and you want to give it up?”

Giles could tell immediately by the way the vampire hung his head that his original assumption was incorrect.

“Not a matter of want. It’s all about need. I need you lot to trust me. I need Buffy to trust me.” He raised pleading eyes to Giles and watched as the human considered.

Giles was completely arrested by the honesty, and the yearning sadness that he was sure was genuine in the vampire’s face. And decided to risk. Spike had had more than ample opportunity to attack them all, if that had been his evil plan. He’d been alone in his home, with Buffy, and with Angel, and not one small leaning toward violence had occurred.

“I don’t think it would be safe for me to hang on to it in my home.” Giles could see the disappointment immediately shape the slope of Spike’s shoulders.

“It’s not safe for me to wear either. Just take some smarty pants to work the mojo out and attack me, slip the big shiny off my finger and I’m dust. Would be right dangerous for some other vamp to get his hands on.”

“You say that like you’ve already experienced it.” Giles jumped as Spike barked out a humourless laugh.

“You don’t know how right you are, Rupes.”

Confusion settled on the Watcher’s brow, but he refused to become ruffled by the odd implication, and instead settled on thinking up a solution.

“Wh-what about the possibility of, er, concealing it within your person?”

Spike stared, emotion passing like shimmering lakes over his face. His eyes gleamed as he allowed hope to taint his voice.

“You mean, like, sew it in under my skin?”

“Er, something along those lines, yes.”

Spike looked thoughtful.

“Won’t poke out and spoil the outline of my abs or anythin’, will it?”

Giles seemed alarmed at the thought of anything to do with Spike’s abdominals.

“I’m rather sure that between Willow and myself we can sort something out.”

“Yeah, okay then. Worth a try, innit?”

And they were back to smiling again, watching the sun bounce giddily off the water, watching the crowd soak up and take it for granted, watched each other in a friendly comfort that Spike had craved but never received.

“Got any suggestions of where I can bunk down for the night? I’ve left the factory, an’ I told Peaches I wouldn’t be back so he’d take Dru. Minions’ll be all arse backwards with no one to tell ‘em what to do so I can go back and stake ‘em with the Slayer later if you want. Or I could try and get ‘em to convert to good ol’ pigs claret.”

Giles looked delighted at the prospect. “Do you think they might?”

“Dunno. If I was still there, maybe. But if I’m not there to make sure they’re doin’ the right thing, then they prolly won’t.”

“Oh,” Giles said in disappointment. “It’s probably best to destroy them, then.” He thought for a moment, before taking a breath to strengthen his resolve and turned to Spike, who was again watching the sea. “I know this could potentially be the most stupid thing I have ever done, but you are welcome to stay at my place until you find somewhere more to your suiting.”

He was non-plussed at that look of awe again, wondering how it was that he could affect the emotions of a notoriously evil vampire so effortlessly. All he had done was offer a place to sleep in complete disregard for the possible health of his neck.

“Do you plan to chain me up to your bathtub?” Spike asked, tongue in cheek.

“Of course not,” Giles spluttered, embarrassed that the thought had indeed crossed his mind. “I think the sofa would be perfectly comfortable for a few nights.”

“Thanks, mate. That’s right generous of you.” Spike looked hastily away as the tears shimmered over the clear deep sky blue of his eyes.

Giles cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable about the display of gratitude and wandered back into the subject of Spike’s recent jewellery haul.

“Mrs. Summers suggested the option of an auction to see all the treasures? How do you feel about that idea?”

“I think it’s a bloody brilliant idea. An excellent start. Do you think that lot would be worth much?”

Giles couldn’t stop himself from the continual surprise he felt in the company of this strange vampire.

“Unless the stones are fake, which I doubt, I think the lot would be worth a very attractive sum of money. The jewels alone are priceless, but as collector’s pieces, I think the sum you’ll end up with could be quite astronomical.”

“And the commission? If I let Joyce take it on, it should get her a pretty penny, too?”

Giles again was stunned at the depth of care Spike was displaying in regards to Buffy and her mother.

“I should think so.”

They passed the following hours discussing everything from sport, to the Scoobies. Spike’s lack of soul wasn’t mentioned again, and so the tense up didn’t reoccur. When the sun began to set over the water, the two Englishmen decided it was time to finally make tracks and returned to the car, and back to town.

A suggested stopover at the factory ensured that Dru had been taken by Angel—the minions at a loose end. Spike was able to retrieve the rest of his belongings and left the building behind him. No lingering sense of pain or even nostalgia. In more ways than one, this place was his past; Dru was his past.

He felt the positive effects of all he had done so far in his second chance. He’d managed to get Rupert on side, and as manipulative as he may be in the way he was going about things, he didn’t mean it to not be heartfelt, for his heart pounded at every interaction he had with these people. And with Buffy. He’d do anything, be anything, and that was his wish. Here he was and he was buggered if he’d let it all go to hell now.

Further travelling and he could park on the roadside, alighting and following Giles into his temporary home. By the time they reached the door Spike was feeling pretty tired, what with having been awake and in the sun all day. He was right knackered and preparing to gulp down his heated pig swill when a pounding on the door heralded the arrival of Buffy and he was pulled back out the door rather forcefully.

Standing with fire blistering her every surface, she was a vision. Heat radiated off her and Spike could see himself going up in flames if he dared to touch. His eyes soaked in her image, not knowing how long it would be before he could convince her that she belonged in his arms. Her presence only added to his happiness, until she uttered the one request he’d rather pass on for another day. A day abut a hundred years in the future.

“Tell me about Angelus,” she demanded with all the finesse of a bullfrog, and Spike’s tired mind could do little but mutter bitter obscenities.

“What do you want to know, pet?” he asked, and knew that nothing about this could possibly end well.


 

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