Chapter 19:

It was anticlimactic.

Pounding down the pavement, sidestepping minor as well as major skirmishes as she led Willow to Giles’s. Then more deflation as they were told to come in and wait, that Spike and Giles knew what the problem was and were off in their heroic way dealing with it. Buffy pouted as she sat on the sofa, losing Willow to the excitement of a computer program designed to collar the wayward Angel.

In the end, Buffy decided the neglect didn’t matter. It freed her up to daydream about steamy moments with Spike, letting her newly initiated passion run free with her imagination and desire for experiences with him. Thus, here she sat in her enticing Xena costume which left too much skin bared and puckering as an open window rushed a cool wind through that tickled her skin. Sexy she-warrior without her Hercules to drag her off to the bedroom.

Buffy pouted some more. It was their last night together before Xander moved in with him and she was all go-girl for taking advantage of that fact. ‘Cause wild monkey-lovin’ with one of your best friends next door? Kind of on the inhibiting side. Even though she could see the wisdom of Xander being there; there was no way she wanted Spike exposed to the possibility of Angelus and Dru’s retribution for his rejection of them. It kind of put a frustrating halt to her love life.

She was forced out of her introspection by the loud arrival of Xander and Cordelia.

“Where is it? I’ll kill it. Tear its eyelashes off and plait a noose to hang it with. How dare I be made someone’s butt monkey again?”

“Xan, nice idea. Creative even, but if there was any monster out there responsible for this, it would have decapitated you before you even got close to plucking out its eyelashes.” Buffy stood with the girls as they each struggled to hold themselves aloof, a fuming Xander doing a mocking version of the snoopy dance as he tried to find words.

And then he deflated and the girls smiled at him. Cordelia even offered him the comfort of her usual snark.

“Face it, Harris. You’re just bummed because a girl could steal your gun.” And she smirked as her eyes swept over his body. “Not that that’s even worth stealing.”

She trounced over to the door, limp cat ears torn and a little to the side. “I have to go and get changed. I obviously can’t go to the Halloween party at the Bronze like this.” And she was gone, disappearing into an uncertain night as the rest waited for confirmation from Giles that the villain was caught and disarmed.

And then the spirit of the irrepressible Xander defunked as he focused on the cheerleader’s words. “Hey,” he shouted, bouncing on his feet with new and vigorous enthusiasm. “Bronze. Party. Are we still on for scary goodness?” His eyes found an unexpected target in still skimpily dressed Willow and his vision glazed.

“You betcha,” confirmed Buffy, hoping that it wouldn’t take her long to ditch her friends and convince Spike they needed to inspect his bed for loose screws. Buffy giggled to herself, finding it beyond amusing that everything she thought about now was tainted with the recall of Spike and the yummy way he bathed her with his tongue.

Her agreement coincided with the drooling return of Xander’s eyes to her heavily revealed cleavage and Spike’s entrance through the front door. There was silence as Buffy stood still, unconsciously pushing her breasts out as Spike’s hungry eyes swept over her get-up lustily.

“What’s that, luv?” His voice had lowered to almost a growl as his eyes caught on the circular shape of each breast cup of her skimpy leather bustier, burning the strips of flesh poking out from beneath the protection of dead animal flesh with his cold heat.

Buffy felt her face light up, felt her body shudder with the intense tingling of little piercing pricks of desire as his eyes roved all over her. She felt hot and itchy and instead of moving, instead of answering him, she made plans with her eyes. Making up her mind, she grabbed her coat from where she had flung it earlier over the sofa arm, and stepped forward to grab Spike’s arm.

“Why Spike,” she addressed him, naughty things heavily suggestive in the low husky rumble of her voice. “You’re not even dressed for Halloween. Have to be all dressed up for the party at the Bronze,” she emphasised to him rather boldly, sneaking a peak at her surprised friends over her shoulder.

“Obviously Spike forgot about the Bronze,” she told them all while pushing him hard toward the door. “I guess we’ll just have to go and look through his wardrobe to see what we can come up with.” A final shove and Spike slammed into the closed door, clipping Giles with the propelled arch of his elbow.

“Oops, sorry Giles. Didn’t see you close the door. Gotta go. Hurry up, Spike.”

“What’s you’re bleeding rush, Slayer? I’m not gonna be dressin’ up in some pansy costume when I can just flash a bit of fang and be all authentic like.”

She stopped just as the door was flung almost too violently against the wall.

“You have to dress up, Spike. It’s the rule.”

There was no more time for confrontation. Slayer hands pushed him back through the doorway and rushed him out into the night, grumbling about bloody women and stupid expectations all the way. Behind them a quiet gathering pondered the display, before figurative heads were scratched and plans formed. It was not a surprise when Willow and Xander left immediately for the Bronze and Giles and Jenny struggled anew with the soul translation.

It was a night divided.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Not one step out of the complex and Buffy had Spike pinned to the outer wall with her lips sucking the life out of him.

“Been wanting to feel you all night,” she growled against his lips, her hand urgently seeking his hard flesh under the tightness of his tee. “Missed you at my unveiling.”

Spike wrenched away from her, a naughty gleam in his eye tickling her insides to a butterfly frenzy.

“Might’ve missed me, pet, but I’m bloody certain nobody missed you.”

She pouted her hurt. “You didn’t miss me?”

Spike’s eyebrow rose to brush a stubborn curl that had fallen from his gelled cap. “Didn’ say that.” His obvious lack of missing her right now poked into her belly as he seized her again, and the real meaning of his words burned strongly onto her face.

“Xander said it was a bedroom costume. Said he could almost see my nipples.” She giggled as an angry vampire crushed her lips with his, mashed against teeth and drawing small sips of blood.

“Xander is to never see your nipples. No bloke is to ever see your nipples,” he whispered harshly against her as he tugged one of her leather-clad breasts free, the nipple pointed straight to his lips. He obeyed the command and sunk onto her, sucking it agonisingly hard into his mouth, his cheeks becoming concave as he sucked the engorged nipple deeper into his throat.

She moaned against him. The feeling of the erotic in a vampire supping blood from her lips and wishing he would take more from her, secretly cursing herself for putting the date of her birthday out there for the final breach of her Slayer. Breaching it further by being exposed to all who passed as he tugged and sucked her breast into his mouth, teeth scraping bluntly against the bulging flesh beyond the areola. One leg climbed over his hip, clamping him against her as she rubbed her dampened crotch against his. The short leather skirt flared around her hips, her ass naked bar for the tiny strip if fabric that dived between her ass cheeks. She felt so hot she thought she’d combust, not caring in the slightest about whoever could possibly cop a free show.

The lusty haze around them dissipated a little as they heard voices, recognising Willow and Xander as they left Giles’s and closed the door with a distracted thump. Buffy pulled Spike into the shadows cast by a tree and delved her hand into his pants, feeling the rush of knowing she was about to feel naked hard flesh against her eager hand, even as her friends came closer to them.

“Want you,” he whispered against her lips, biting his lip as her hand drove a frantic beat into him, cupping his balls and sliding her fingers over the full length of him to the tip. The slow steps of her friends as they paused, doing the gentle trip to flirting had them hanging around for a lot longer than Spike was happy with, but the fireball in his arms didn’t seem to be letting it affect her need. He hissed sharply as she pulled him fully out of his pants, his arms useless bar for holding her as she suddenly slung a leg back around him, swept her panties to the side and teased her slit with his throbbing head. Her slippery juices quenched a little of the fire, but the rapidity of it all thrilled him so much and he had to bite his tongue from groaning louder and alerting her friends to what they were up to. His damaged Buffy would have done this, but not with the freedom of her heart as she made love to him in the open. If her friends caught them, she’d be embarrassed and probably do a lot of giggling. But the other Buffy, the one he was slowly letting go, would punch him in the nose, be disgusted with herself for being caught loving another vampire and race home, contemplating all the while whether she should dust him despite knowing she needed him.

All thought ceased, however, as he felt her determined push down on him, allowing the head of his cock to nudge at her opening and spread the entry wide, pausing in that place as she cried out high in her throat. He kissed her hard, desperately, unable to bear the thought of being caught now and having to stop. She bounced a little and he slipped a tiny bit more, quickly placing his hand around the top of his cock so she couldn’t get him in any further. She pumped him slowly; just that small part of him surging into her entrance and building up the sweetest tension that craved something so much deeper.

“Did you hear something?” Willow’s nervous voice almost made him want to shout, but he held the leg around him, kept kissing Buffy until she was mindless and allowed his hand to fall a finger back so a little more of his length felt the wet heat of his love’s pussy. Buffy didn’t even react, just kept gyrating her hips over him, her hands clamping around his head as she held him to her, one breast exposed and rubbing against fabric.

“Nah. Probably just some more of the little monsters heading home from trick-or-treating. So Will, Buffy help you pick out the outfit?” And Spike zoned out, an aggravating swirl starting in his balls. He slipped his grip further back again, now half of his cock free to give his girl pleasure. His other hand had been stroking her back, falling against the zip that held her bustier together. As slowly as he could he lowered it, allowing her breasts to fall from the toughened leather as he turned then and braced her back against the trunk of the tree.

Releasing her bruised and puffy lips, he whispered in her ear. “Quiet now, pet, or they’ll hear. Don’t want to have to stop now, do you?” Her frantic shake in the negative won a smirk, and he buried his mouth against her breasts, still pumping his half mast into her as her hands reached behind to grip the tree and she lifted her other leg up around his waist.

She tugged the hand away that was preventing her from having all of his hard strength inside her, slipping down finally so that his balls slapped her gently on the ass. One arm clung to the tree behind her as the other came up to cup her free breast, twisting and pinching the sensitive bud between her fingers. As she plucked it and rolled it, Spike nipped the other with his teeth, all to the melody of their friend’s voices as she slid up and down, her wet passage sucking against him in hungry passion.

Buffy could feel her whole body tingle, little shivers building to a deeper vibration that had her break out in a heated flush. The girth of him stretching her, pushing her pussy to its outer limits was a sensation like no other. His coolness tipped her over an edge she had never expected, turning her lubrication into an icy fire that scorched her as well as him. As his tip found her spot down deep she writhed, biting hard on her lip to stop the need to cry his name from tearing from her lips and getting them caught. Her insides buzzed, echoing a trail through her pussy, to her belly, to shoot glorious tingles to the tips of her nipples, her flesh releasing a sweat from too much tease.

“Spike, Spike, Spike, Spike…” Her lips formed the words but she was a good girl and kept the volume and intent to herself, her body beginning to bracket itself against the tree as she squeezed her muscles hard, massaging Spike’s cock into a throbbing pain. He attempted to pull out only to be gripped in some form of punishment, the fire in his balls beginning to pulse in some angry objection to how long he was taking to empty himself. She relaxed and he seized the chance, pumping her hard enough to have splinters embed in her back, their mutual pleasure too much to expose them yet to the reality of pain or accident.

With a gurgled incomprehensible word, Buffy felt herself flying off some kind of ledge, her arms falling forward and nearly crushing Spike’s face to her neck as she pumped him relentlessly, startling stabs of intense pleasure screaming through her blood until her artery pounded in her throat. She needed his fangs so much, wanted to feel that piercing in her neck so badly that she almost wept when Spike shot viciously within her, his come slamming into her core in decisive bursts. The head of his cock pulsed against her constrictive walls, and yet there was not even a nick in her flesh from his teeth. Heavy pants frightened her tiny hairs on end as he gasped into her throat. Though disappointed that she still didn’t know the pleasure of his bite, her rapid breathing told the truth of how much pleasure he gave her. She kissed his neck in many tiny butterfly touches and held him to her tight, all the while listening to her friends as they finally reached the end of the courtyard and left.

“Sweetheart, you can dress up like Xena whenever you want to. In fact, leave that little costume at my place. Might come in handy some time.” His breath into her neck caused little shivers to run in delight through her body and he squeaked as she hugged him hard.

“I’m sure you can think of lots of costumes we could try out.”

Spike’s mind flew down memory lane, remembering a time when Xander and Anya had delved into the fun side of love with nurse uniforms and the like. He grinned, wondering what the boy was likely to make of the demongirl once he was through crafting him into being the kind of bloke that could properly appreciate a lady like Anyanka.

“I’m more’n happy to go home and hang that costume in my closet right now. ‘S already half off.”

“Oh,” Buffy eeped as she hurriedly pushed him away, almost falling to her feet as she rushed to reposition her outfit. She turned and gave him her back. “Please,” she asked and he became captivated by the bare expanse of her back. She wiggled her ass at him to snap his attention back from wherever he had disappeared to, and almost sighed into another round of hot tree sex at the feel of his hands on her flesh.

“Every little piece of you is so erotic; from the tan of your skin, to that little mole near your pussy, to that little snub of your nose. You take my breath away every time I look at you.” He whispered it into the naked expanse of her throat, his fingers itching to tear away the brown wig that hid the extent of her light.

She turned and told him everything that words couldn’t express just with the glitter of her eyes.

“You know how I kinda told you I love you when we…you know?”

His heart froze, an agony so deep piercing the very depths of him as he waited for the inevitable—the retraction that would make so much more sense than what he had received from this angel so far.

“Yeah.” His voice was nothing more than a croak, lost to the sensuality of the night while he waited for his heart to be broken yet again. Either she didn’t see the pain that dwelled in the deepening navy of his irises, or she just ignored it. Whatever she was feeling left a smile tugging at her lips as she ran a light finger over the jagged scar of his eyebrow.

“It’s not enough to really tell you how I feel. I adore you and how you make me feel. Wanton and special all in the same beat. You make my skin prickle just from thinking about you. You make me feel so strong from knowing you’re there by my side. I,” she cast her eyes downward, suddenly embarrassed about how deep this little smutfest had gotten. She could have been arrested for almost nude sex against a tree in a semi-public place and she was shy about telling the vamp she loved that what she felt so far surpassed that that it terrified and invigorated her at the same time. “I don’t ever want to lose you. You are in my heart, in my soul, in me so deep that I don’t ever want to let you out.”

“Buffy?” The awe in his eyes was not new; he guessed it was the same look he had given the night he had found a resurrected Slayer afraid on her own staircase. But this time it was for him as well—he’d gained something so monumental in coming back that it scared the arse out of him while he waited for Anyanka to pop back up and offer to take it all away again. And what was with that? How could things be anything but better for the little ex-demon now that he’d taken Xander into his influence?

But for this moment now, he had tears in his eyes—a dearth of emotion already clogging his throat and drowning him in eternal promises. And then he was kissing the life out of her, claiming her lips in a rush before they slipped away to utter inconsequential clap-trap about the Bronze and her friends. He wanted this moment to cherish, to hold in his head until the moment he was dusted and could hold it no more. Because for him, this was it, that tiny second when he knew that what he’d done would make it all come out right. He’d saved her; he was certain of it. Given her such a different outlook that offers of making her death be anyone’s gift would no longer be considered. Not contemplated.

She didn’t know, just accepted his happiness, kissed him quick before finally pulling them away from the tree and to the Bronze. Nothing could get in the way of Halloween night at the Bronze.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Willow spotted them the second they walked through the doors. With Buffy falling out of her costume and Spike emulating himself—the Big Bad. The redhead wore a miserable defeated smile as she greeted them, desperately sucking the last of her cola through a distressingly mangled straw.

Buffy and Spike shared a concerned glance before sliding into seats beside each other and contemplated what could be wrong. One quickly diverted look to the dance floor in search of Xander and Buffy’s eyes bugged.

“Oh, Will,” she sighed.

Spike took a second to catch the view that Buffy did but when he saw the brunette couple grooving to the beat he found it impossible to beat back a smile. So, despite the little flirty tête-à-tête earlier while he had been seeing to his girl, the whelp still fell back into a certain pattern. All bode well for Anya then. Spike suddenly had visions of Anya arriving on the scene—all newly humanised—only to encounter a Xander firmly ensconced in a relationship with Willow. All the bad connotations of that though made his head hurt.

“Red, he’s not the one for you. Got much brighter things in your future. Keep them pretty eyes open and you just might run into one right soon like.” With a parting grin, he grabbed Buffy’s hand and pulled her into his dance embrace and tucked her head under his chin, all the better to get caught in sensual fantasies inspired by the cocktail of her hair.

“Thanks.”

Spike pulled back a fraction, having no clue what he was receiving a thanks for but happy enough to accept it now that all the feel goods were flying around in his favour.

“Why’s that, pet?”

“For trying to make Willow feel better about Xander dancing with Cordy.”

Spike’s smile hid secrets, but he bundled her back in close to his chest and thanked whatever Powers that had given him this.

“It’s all true; little Red has bigger things comin’ her way if she only opens her eyes. Bein’ together would be wrong for those two. Take a look, luv.” He jerked his head in the direction of a couple in the middle of the floor, the boy doing wild and whacky moves that had all that surrounded him stepping back to protect themselves. Cordelia was slowly distancing herself, a humiliated smile of forbearance claiming her lips as she encountered amused glances.

Buffy giggled. “Yeah, those two look pretty cute together.”

And that was what this moment was all about. Being together; holding each other until there was nothing of life left to cling to. Waiting to outlive eternity as long as they held each other close. It made Spike feel warmed and loved and wouldn’t you just know it had to be the moment he felt the pull of his blood.

His body tensed as he tried to block it out, instantly knowing that as much as he’d given away his right to be with Dru, he could never ignore her when she was close. It wasn’t a Siren’s call exactly, but a call for obedience. A call for acknowledgment that he took time willing himself to overlook.

And then that nasty taste was in his mouth, seeping over his tongue of the displeasure of his family. The cold fury of their perception of his defection crept over his skin until he felt like ice to the touch and Buffy flinched away from him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked in concern, feeling the alteration in him and seeing in an instant the change of his eyes to the amber glow that meant he was forcing himself to stay at her side.

It was a shock, to see Spike’s demon teetering on the edge of something she couldn’t even pretend to understand while she stood beside him not knowing if her world was about to come crashing to the ground or if Spike’s control was being compromised in some way.

Even a sombre yellow turned on her failed to force her back, and when he closed them tight against something, his hands holding hers in a grip so desperate it scared her for him rather than of him.

“Spike?” The tears trapped in her throat hurt, made it difficult to swallow and as she concentrated on that—on trying to breathe and again talk—she failed to notice the altered state around her.

Willow had her eyes trained on a member of the band, but to Buffy there was no sound around her except for the rough rasping breath squeezing past the emotion that was swamping her heart and right up to her throat. Xander pushed Cordy just that little bit too far and she stalked off, flinging the usual insults of inadequacy over her shoulder as she headed for the back door.

Then some long buried sense kicked in and she felt it—welcomed the rush of knowing exactly what was here and destroying her smoochy time with her honey. Spike had not yet recovered, still clung to his steadfast position—but now Buffy knew.

“You don’t belong to her anymore,” she hissed at him angrily and his eyes flew open, sapphire blue cooling her with a complete grip on sanity that she immediately sagged against his chest and felt like weeping.

“I know. ‘M yours, Buffy. To do with what you will.”

And right now she willed great things, wanting to stamp her foot when she wasn’t transported away from there and into naked playtime in Spike’s new bed.

“What do they want?” she asked instead, knowing she had no choice but to go out and find them, stop them from killing when she was but a step away.

“They want us. You to torture and kill; me to torture and well, torture would be my guess.” His lips looked like the smile he wore was new to his face, so marked with age all of a sudden that he looked almost another person.

So the game had begun and Buffy wasn’t going to settle back and let them have the first round.

“Where?” She was decisive, the Slayer an edge of steel despite her usual temperance with her inner girl.

Spike nodded toward the back door and something clicked in Buffy’s mind.

Cordy was outside.

The knowledge gripped her with cold fingers of dread. Buffy reached for her stake and took off for the door, the metal making a very loud and startling bang as it bounced off the wall.

Her feet kept her momentum forward as her mind began the scream—not again. She couldn’t do this again. Watch a friend—someone she knew lose their life because of knowing her. Cordelia lay almost limp in the arms of Angelus, blood dribbling to his chin as he released his fangy grip to flash Buffy a triumphant grin.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my little Slayer. How’s it hangin’, Buff? Oh that’s right, you’ve got yourself a new set of balls by the name of William.”

“Shut your gob, you tosser. Can’t play fair so you attack the Slayer’s friends. Shoulda known you’d come out with the obvious tactics. Not like you’ve got the brain capacity in that overloaded noggin’. Can hear your bloody brain rattle as soon as you shake your head.” Except it wasn’t the poof’s brain that was rattling. Spike was plenty shaken that one of the Scooby group was being supper for his hated grandsire.

Buffy’s eyes locked on the dazed ones of Cordelia as she implored her to come to her rescue. Weakness was obvious in her limbs as she succumbed to the vampire’s grip, not able to even stand on her own anymore through loss of blood.

Before Buffy or Spike could move—before Angelus had turned his head and indicated the presence of Dru at his back—Xander came flying through the same abused door.

“Let her go you big coward,” he screeched in panic, faltering only slightly as Angelus laughed sardonically, holding his food tightly around the shoulders and lifting her up and down to show the balance of power.

“Not likely, little guy. But I’ll leave her body here just for you.” And he bent his head, about to relatch his fangs to her already marked throat in an effort to finish her off. Feeding in front of them was to show no fear, to put them so far off balance that it would render Buffy too emotional to fight well.

It didn’t.

It produced a hard rage that spread throughout her body and settled in the fist that held her stake.

She pounced.

The second she got close, Angelus thrust Cordelia’s lax body at her in an effort to distract her and get away. Buffy caught the cheerleader—just as Angelus grasped Dru’s hand— tossing her again back to Spike and lunging at the fleeing pair. She kicked the tall brunette in the back, his hand almost tearing from the strong grip he held with the darker vampiress.

It wasn’t until facing the furiously calm face of Drusilla that Buffy felt the ice patch splinter inside her and she found herself drifting forward and lowering her stake. Then Spike held her in his arms, shaking sense back into her limbs and the fight resumed, her warrior beside her. He stood off against Dru while Buffy returned to the less creative in a fight—Angelus. She struck against his face and chest and gut a number of times, excited each time he seemed to falter in his retaliation.

Receiving a punch from the recently desouled Angel did more than hurt. Buffy felt it beyond weird to find herself on the vicious end of his fists as she ducked and dived his not quite precise attacks. But her mind voluntarily shut down as the fight continued, preserving her against the devastation of having to kill someone who had long been her protector, her friend, and almost her lover.

“So, you like your men cold, Precious. How nice. Might get me a bit of ass then, too. What d’ya say?”

“I say no dice. Isn’t it obvious? I have discerning taste in vamps. To be my lover you have to know how to use it, Big Boy…I’m betting you have even less skills in bed than you do with your fists.”

He held in his reaction but Buffy could see the cold hard reality of her hit in the way his beady eyes burned yellow. It caused shivers from all the way inside, even if she was proud of herself for not rising to the bait.

“Ah well. Who needs to climb on top when you’ve got everything on display anyway. Nice costume, Buff. Where’d you pick it up? Slutbombs-are-us?”

Buffy spoke with her feet and grinned savagely as they connected with his chest, satisfaction hurting her heart as Angelus flew away from her and slammed into a pile of garbage. And he was finally down, Buffy rushing over to take advantage of the moment of stunned immobility. Just as she was about to thrust her stake into the evil heart, a fist enclosed her wrist, pulling her away from the reclining body.

Buffy followed the arm with confused eyes, wondering why she had been stopped from ending this situation now. Spike offered nothing, just watched as a moaning and terrified Dru gathered Angelus up and hurried him out of the alley. The female looked her well-dressed best. No blood dripped from her face, no cuts or bruises marred her ‘perfect in death’ complexion.

Buffy almost swayed on the spot as she realised while she had been beating the crap out of Angelus, Spike had been what? Chatting with his sire and catching up on all the goss?

“Tell me why she isn’t dust?” Buffy snarled furiously through clenched teeth. “Better yet, explain to me why Angelus isn’t blowing in the wind?”

The controlled bubble of rage radiated throughout her body and she felt something hot and indescribable as she took in the guilty shrug of her lover. Blood pooled in the corner of her mouth as hurt prickled her eyes. He’d stopped her from killing them, and as that realisation began to take hold, her body reacted with a persistent shake.

Spike remained speechless, his hands reaching out to take her hand but she pulled it away, glaring at him with such deep pain that he flinched and took a step back. As he did so her eyes fell on the collapsed forms of Cordy and Xander and she rushed over to see the extent of the damage.

Xander was insulting up a storm, Cordelia tossing very weakened barbs back as she struggled to stay awake.

“We should get her to the hospital, Xan. Just to make sure.”

“I’m fine, really,” she protested as she stumbled to her feet, her hand hesitantly touching the still fresh wound on her neck.

Tears were gathered in her eyes as she looked at Buffy and then Spike. “That bastard bit me,” she informed them, the obviousness of the observation making the speaker giggle in delayed shock. Her eyes glazed for a moment then began to clear, the tears pushed away for a moment when she didn’t have such a big audience.

In the face of his fear, Xander just continued with what he knew. He bit sarcastically at the object of his rising lust and hoped she was well enough to keep receiving them. Strong enough to keep insulting him back.

“That’ll teach ya for having the hots for a vampire, Cord. They’ll go for ya throat every time.”

“And when I get enough blood back in my veins, I'll make sure I hit you with double the putdowns, Xander Harris." She slumped against his body and he caressed her shoulder, hugging her in a way that made her sigh.

Buffy flinched, closing in on herself even though her mind objected the point. Spike had never gone for her throat—despite her numerous offers—even though his betrayal right now felt like the most savage bite.

For his part, the blond vampire seemed to collapse into himself, knowledge in this situation a double-edged sword. He couldn’t tell, couldn’t make her see. Was left with nothing but the hope that sense would reason with her as she considered his explanation.

“He’s a good vamp when he’s souled, Pet. I thought he deserved a chance to make good.” It stuck in his throat to defend the one he hated above all else, but the truth of it was that Angel fought for the side of good, had the Powers That Be in his ever-widening corner and would probably bring him back anyway.

“And in the meantime, my friends are at risk.” She raised her eyes as the full extent of this fight—or lack thereof—finally hit her. “You didn’t even hit her, did you?”

His surprised step back was her answer and something dug a trench inside and allowed her heart to hide.

She took a step towards him, hating that he was answering her with silence and hating more the answers.

“She was calling you from inside and you wanted to go, didn’t you? What did she do out here? Try and convince you to go back? Are you going back, Spike?” Her voice cracked on the last question, not knowing anymore what was truth and what was fear but feeling the scalding tears as they made tracks down her face. Knew the agony of a breaking heart as he continued to lack answers for her.

“Tell me,” she demanded while barely a step away from him now.

Spike saw the change and fear held him captive. He was almost too scared to watch the play of emotions on her face, too terrified that he’d done it after all. Cocked up his second chance all because he didn’t let her waste Mr. Hair Gel himself. The irony of it caused him to smile as he shook his head. And that action finally seemed to release his tongue.

“Buffy, we need to give him back his soul. I wasn’t tempted to go back to Dru. Was just tellin’ her to back off and take the poof out of here. I can’t kill her, if that’s what you mean. She’s my sire…” He was interrupted by three derisive snorts.

He clenched his jaw, wishing he could do the big reveal and tell them all the good that Peaches does in LA, telling them that the cheerleader ends up bloody useful for a change by going off with him. And then the impact of the night hit him and he fell to his knees. He’d been so hell-bent on changing everything that he had almost sacrificed one of Buffy’s own.

Cordelia could have died tonight. Could have drained dry or been turned while he’d buried himself in the bliss of loving Buffy.

“Oh God, I’m a bad man,” he moaned into his hands, shuddering with a more human reaction. “I’m sorry, Buffy. You’re right, we should have dusted him.” He raised his eyes and she could see the pain, feel the sorrow that was as genuine as the tear that he tried to hide.

Her trench refilled and her heart was back where it should be—loving the vamp in front of her that shone with his humanity.

“It’s okay. You were right. We should give him a chance with his soul. But if I find him snacking on someone else, I have to do it.” She fell to her knees in front of him, pulling him unresisting into her arms and rubbed his back as he grasped hold of her tightly.

“I love you,” he told her shoulder and she smiled. Knowing with all that she was that it was true. Knowing that whatever reaction he’d shown here tonight, that feeling for her hadn’t faltered, had probably even guided him in preventing her from destroying a once strong warrior of light.

“I love you, too,” she answered into the hard slick of his white curls, needing for there to be no confusion, even if his response to his sire still rocked her confidence. “We’ll get Ms. Calendar to hurry with the spell. But we’ll have to do something about Dru. I can’t leave her to go around killing people.”

He nodded into her chest, and it buoyed Buffy no end for him to give even that discreet agreement. He accepted it, and hopefully could live with it. Buffy couldn’t bear the thought of him returning to the evil skank. Her eyes glittered dark and dangerous, her mind already plotting the various ways she could make the deadly vampiress pay for trying to control Spike. He was hers, and would stay hers. She couldn’t let him go if her life depended on it.

That bitch was so going down.
 

Chapter 20:

He’d offered Giles ‘the talk’ when he was ready but had ignored the plan for weeks in hopes his demon would talk him straight. Had altered his belief in himself in such a zigzag of confusion that it seemed better to contemplate nothing at all, block the option right out of his head until the unimaginable happened and everyone forgot. Accepted him so thoroughly on his face value that they dismissed his need of a chain, a bond to keep him on a guarantee that he didn’t want to give.

Except that was a lie. His demon did want it. Did want to leash himself in a way that was almost embarrassing. But to be fair all around, all of Spike had wanted to belong to Buffy for years now. That his demon was pushing him up to the plate, pushing him into finally getting that info and presenting it to the Watcher, was suddenly a priority that no part of Spike felt like he could ignore.

It didn’t help that Buffy had been watching him. Keeping her eye on every one of his moves, succumbing to his embrace with a nervous twitch and a quick look around them in what he could only assume was a protective action. Her trust in him had been compromised by the confrontation with Angelus and Dru. The call that had enticed Spike to his sire for that short moment had crumbled Buffy’s confidence in him, and it wasn’t taking much for him to admit that he needed to do something to get it back. Do something to make her feel safe and loved—trust him again. He needed to trust himself again.

Dru had always been a dark, magical lure through the horrors of the night for him. That night at the Bronze, the night her rite of possession called and tempted him to return to the fold was not long enough ago. It had caused question marks to appear in Buffy’s eyes—this time she was far too aware of the influence evil still had on him in the guise of his sire, where last time she had been too consumed in herself and her hatred of him to see the threat. This Buffy was more sensitive to his moods, to his movements—and she loved him. Held him with the strongest bonds available in the world-—heartstrings. So, unlike the last time this happened—when the evil filtered into his conscience and let him think it was okay to chain up the one he loved and offer her as a snack to his sire if she refused such kinky affections—this time she had clear eyes. Concerned eyes. This time she saw the threat and was damaged by it.

Frightened by it.

He wandered through the darkness and uncertainty of time, gathering and discarding information as it came to light—interpreting beyond the malice of which the news was offered. He was hated in this time, passing amongst them with not even the excuse of a chip for turning on his kind. But still he had enough ferocity left in his reputation to hold the demon world loyal and respectful, and so he got what he needed over a time and was finally ready to present it to the Watcher.

He ended up at Rupert’s door, much more nervous even than he’d been when he first found himself in this time; first found himself cast adrift in a world where Buffy wasn’t yet fooled into love with someone cruel and selfish.

His knock was short, to the point and was answered in almost the same manner. Jenny Calendar stood looking at him, the flecks of her fear waning a fraction each time she was confronted with his presence.

“Have something I want to chat about with Rupert. He about?”

Jenny stepped aside, an indulgent smile curving her dark painted lips. “He’s researching. We’ve been up all night with this curse translation. We’ve almost completed it though the end is a little tricky. But it’s made us all fired up for the end, so…no sleep.”

Spike grinned, knowing exactly what the watcher was like when he was on a roll with something. He knew better than to expect the older man all well dressed and polished. Giles was a man unkempt; a man whose clothes showed how much time he’d been slumped in a chair through the dark hours.

“Get anything done then, Rupes?”

Giles shot him an annoyed glare over the top of his glasses, not having yet noticed they’d slipped rather far down the end of his nose.

“Yes, well…well rested then, are you?”

Spike smirked at the surliness, rejoicing in all the faces of the watcher he had been privvy to this time around. With pleasure he picked apart their characterisations, glorying in everything he’d missed the last time he’d swished his way through their lives with little on his mind but how to get rid of the chip so he could eat the hand that fed him.

His countenance turned solemn so suddenly that Giles blinked, momentarily forgetting that he’d been elbow deep in the race to the final key of the curse; after over two months of research and they were finally reaching the point where they could ensure a little bit of peace to their world again. The pressure had been building on all of them. Giles had taken particular notice of the strain on the vampire’s face, wondering again and again why he stayed with them and helped—kept Buffy safe when she patrolled and provided himself as a more mature and caring mentor for Xander Harris than the watcher had ever thought possible. It was a job he’d not thought himself capable of, and that a soulless, formerly evil creature had taken up the task while so obviously in love with his Slayer was the most bizarre event he had ever not read about in any Watcher’s resource at the Council.

“Promised you a while back to come talk to you about what I’d need to do to get my soul back.”

Giles blinked. Here was Spike, a master vampire, powerful in strength and loyalty, bringing him—a lowly human—information that would help permanently restrain his evil impulses. Would render him with no excuse about not knowing the difference between wrong decisions, immoral decisions, and right.

Spike didn’t look like an all-powerful vamp right now. He looked like a nervous man, worried about his life and afraid of making too many wrong moves. He was a quandary that Giles still hadn’t wrapped his head around.

“Yes. So you did. What have you found out?” Giles asked as he indicated Spike take a seat. His interest focused his attention once again and he pushed the slipping glasses back up his nose.

“There’s a demon, in Africa.”

Giles waited patiently for several minutes, wondering about the wrench it seemed to be for Spike to talk about this. He couldn’t see any evidence of struggle, couldn’t see any breaks of Spike’s demon pushing its way to the fore to wreak havoc on those trying to leash its behaviour forever. After witnessing the great differences between Angel and Angelus—only after meeting the unsouled Spike in an atmosphere that rendered fear unnecessary—Giles was more than sure that vampires were as varied in their behaviour and attitudes as humans. It was his opinion, then, that a soul would have very little impact on Spike.

He had asserted that he hadn’t witnessed any degree of challenge on the part of Spike’s demon. But if he was honest, he had noticed minor struggles going on. Ones where Spike was finding his way in the human world and trying desperately not to make mistakes. In Giles’s mind, he’d been, for the most part, successful.

When the silence stretched out too long, he decided a diversion might be needed.

“Tell me about the Spike that existed in your time. Would he have ever thought of getting a soul for the woman he loved?”

The watcher in Giles was fascinated by everything he’d already learned of this other incarnation of Spike. Was chilled at his own blinkered reception of the vampire knowing that he had indeed changed and instead of helping him and learning from him, he’d settled back into his learned behaviour and primed his own Slayer for a life of mistrust and dishonesty. As confusing as it was knowing that the vampire suffered at his hands, at Buffy and the Scoobies hands, he couldn’t help but be very pleased that things had occurred in such a way as to bring the peroxided vamp into their lives in this new way.

Still, his question seemed to have struck a nerve and he felt a small sense of regret that he’d pushed Spike into a painful memory.

“The other Spike was a thoughtless vamp who just wanted to be loved.” His voice was low, filled with hurt and remorse. “Forget it, Rupert. Nothing I did back then could have helped. She kept throwing the fact that I wasn’t like Peaches in my face, but even if I did go and get myself all shiny and soulful, it would never have been enough.”

“Oh surely that’s not—“

“Don’t try and deny it, Rupes. You and I both know that if she’d loved the Poof first she would have been ruined for souls forever. Big Brood-o-matic shot her to pieces before I ever got my act together enough to know what I felt. There was never any chance of her falling for me. Her heart wasn’t in it. Not for Soldierboy, and not for me. But if she needed me to do it, if it would have made her trust me, I’d have done it.”

Giles nodded sadly, not really in the position to refute what the vampire said, but wishing he’d had a less awful experience of it in that time.

“So, now you know of a demon. What must you do?”

“Trials,” Spike seemingly choked out, his eyes not once raised from his fixation on the carpet. “Pretty serious trials to prove yourself worthy. Pass those and I get to wish myself a shiny little soul.”

There was nothing for Giles to do, but nod in understanding.

“So, what do you want to do about it, Spike? Do you plan to go and do this, or wait a bit longer? I think it might be wise if you stayed and helped in case Angelus strikes and Buffy could do with your help. Or even yet, there is this spell. Surely we can investigate it further and adapt it to suit your needs—”

“No bloody way, Watcher. You’re not puttin’ the whammy on me. Not havin’ the same as the Poof. Who knows what that thing did to him? Don’t want to be cursed. Decision’s mine.”

“Of course,” Giles agreed, not wanting to make this any harder and not wanting to push an act into impetuous disaster.

“Don’t tell the Slayer,” the vampire instructed, finally raising his eyes and imploring the other’s cooperation. “I’ll wait for now. Jus’ wanted you to know.” And he was on his feet, the thick heavy tread of his boots making small indents in the carpet even as the sound was swallowed.

He left the room in a morose acceptance, a sense of wondering if it was the right move, if his direction was straight and correct. Giles looked at Jenny’s tired face, and felt his own body slump.

He climbed to his own feet in a state of exhaustion, removing his glasses for a weary eye rub and then nodded as a silent agreement they should catch some sleep, and then made his way slowly to his bed. The puzzle of long lost soul curses and redemptive soulless vampires left for another day.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~


“Hey, Will. Whatcha doin’?”

Perky Buffy was in control today, her hair all fluffy and lips all glossy. It was an excellent portrayal of the Buffy that had been newly crushing on Angel, but it was not the usual Buffy that had been falling wildly in love with Spike. As a result of the abrupt change, Willow frowned.

“I know you’re all with the smiles and the happy, and hey, with ya on the happy, ‘cause happy is so what we need around here—” The redhead stopped and giggled nervously, her own smile slipping along with Buffy’s. “But what’s wrong, Buffy? I know that something’s really got you worried or you wouldn’t be trying so hard to be the Buffy you used to be. You know, before all the soul missage with Angel and the oogyness of all that.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I am so not caring about that, Will’s. So he lost his soul? No biggie. I’ll do what I have to do. If Giles and Ms. Calendar can get his soul back then it’s all of the good, but if not, we’ll deal.”

Willow contemplated Buffy’s speech and saw no artifice behind the words, saw nothing that should be worried over or heard with disbelief. It was just fact, and Willow smiled in relief. Buffy would take care of it. Before he killed them all in their sleep, Buffy would deal with him and everything would be fine.

The girls continued walking toward Revello in silence. It had been a typical day at school—boring lessons topped with even more boring homework. Once upon a time Buffy would have given it a cursory glance before she escaped out her window to patrol, but now with Spike on the scene, he had her finishing and actually reaching the asking questions stage. If she didn’t know better she would think he was trying to turn her into an academic. Which was just funny, because everyone knew that Buffy was as far from being Willow brainy as…well, maybe not Xander but in her own estimation, she had to be close.

Just the thought of that brought a wide genuine smile to her lips. She maybe couldn’t count on that comparison anymore either, not with the way Spike jumped Xander’s ass as soon as his homework made it within the door.

It was weird being with Spike now, knowing that one of her best friends was sleeping in the room right next door. Not that that really mattered when his gorgeous full lips met hers and he made her forget there was a world beyond his closed door. He loved her and he showed her in so many ways. It broke her heart that she felt that he was holding something back. Was lying to her in some way that she just didn’t understand.

She was sure he loved her. How could she doubt it when he so easily lost himself in looking at her, never losing that look of awe that took her breath away every time she saw it?

But she knew he held a secret. Kept something important from her and it hurt. In her innocence she had just fallen into the happy love that being with him meant to her, something so deep and beautiful she hadn’t even stopped to remember he was a vampire and that maybe, just maybe, there was more behind what and who he was than he was telling her.

She purposely blocked from her mind his reaction to being around his sire. Ignored the pull of that link she didn’t have with him. That link that was formed and renewed often with a bite. Deep inside, she wondered if allowing him to bite her would be the end of that link with Drudsilla; if perhaps it would take what they had to a higher level and make them as strong as a couple could be. Her seventeenth birthday was so close now, and that promise burned in her throat whenever she thought about it—at least three times every day. The desire to feel him in that way had been so strong—was still that strong—but she now feared that he was keeping something from her, something too important to their relationship for him to hold the truth away from her. How could she trust in him when he kept holding back? She had taken that step, given him her heart and soul and he seemed unable to do the same. It was confusing and painful, and she really needed it resolved.

“So, what turned that smile into a frown?”

She was jolted from her thoughts by Willow’s concerned question, the redhead watching her with an intelligent spark in her eyes. As confident as she was at being right about Spike, she wasn’t ready to share those thoughts, didn’t want her friends to start distrusting him when she had no clue about what the nature of the secret really was.

“Just thinking ‘bout my birthday. Sort of hoping it’s not like last year’s on the scale of suckage.”

Willow giggled. “I’m sure it will be way better than last year. At least you can give massive hints to your millionaire boyfriend for something pretty and know he’ll probably get it for you.”

Buffy melted inside. “Yeah, he probably would, wouldn’t he? I think I’d suit emeralds. What do you think?”

“Oh no,” Willow objected. “I’D suit emeralds. You can have diamonds.”

The girls discussed different styles and cuts as they continued on their way, looking forward to snacks of ice-cream and a little relaxation, before the Homework Monster descended on them. At the very least her mom loved Spike for his diligence with the homework issue. If only he was the same with the honesty.

Buffy ducked her head and ignored her suspicions in favour of a major pig out. She could work the rest out later.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~


“I need to go out.”

They had been working silently for hours. Arisen from sleep little rested, a cup of coffee fortified one while the other drowned his exhaustion in tea, and they set back to work.

“Everything else is easy to get, and once we’ve finished the translation we’re good to go. But we need something to hold the soul before it is transferred. I should be able to pick it up at the Magic Shop.”

Giles had already stopped listening. His eyes were trained on the odd letters and symbols, feeling his brain on the edge of a collapse even as he knew in his heart they were close. Very close to making decisions and ensuring the stability of one they had missed but would probably always now fear.

So he missed her as she gathered her bag and coat and didn’t hear as she clicked the door closed behind her. Just scurried around looking for his pencil as another small clue fell into place and he could decipher another small phrase. He smiled and looked up to share his news, finally seeing that Jenny was gone and feeling a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t even noticed. Not able to do anything but wait, he stuck his nose back in the text and hoped for more breakthroughs.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Her heels clacked in a marvelously delicate rhythm on the stone floor as her dancing swept her in circles. Round and round until the dizziness stole the unpleasantness from her head. But it left her feet unsteady and she slipped, feet crossing until she landed in a muddle at the feet of her Daddy. She slumped, moaning and crying as the confusion ebbed and the glorious images of death and blood were squashed to the side—replaced by realities of grief and remorse that had no right to be touching her. She’d been such a good girl, had paid the price of taking initiative and bringing her sire home. Letting him back across to the place where he could be hers again, and not through guilt but because of such a dark need to own and possess his little girl.

But now it was all going wrong. She’d received so many glorious moving pictures in her head when she had delved into Spike’s brain. Only short moments that brought her so many vibrant images. They’d confused and frightened her, left her needy and clinging to the earliest promises of the visions. Daddy. Having her Daddy home to hold her hand and share her meals. Having him to bite and fuck her until she screamed from the security of having him again.

So, to cling to that, she’d discarded many of the others, forgotten about the other things she’d seen in her Spike’s muddled head and focused on the ones she could make happen. All the while accepting that it would only be a short time before the three of them would be back together and finding pleasure and blood in the goriest of places.

But this now, she hadn’t seen. Or else she had blocked it out with the others as something she had been too unwilling to understand. And this moment, as she sobbed at the feet of Angelus she poured out her fears, gave voice to the things that she had thought to never have to live through again.

No longer sick, Drusilla did not end her meltdown in a weakened and pitiful state. Instead she regained her feet, her nails extending as she worked her mind around it, considered avenues to travel to prevent it. Things must happen now or it would be too late. They would lose the end and the victims would rise and overpower them once and for all. She would be torn once again from her sire’s arms and left bereft and careless.

“I see gold around her neck, hair as dark as my Knight. I hear girls all a twitter in verse and swirly skirts all in a circle. They come for you, my love. Wanting to stuff that evil conscience back in you deep, tear you away from the glory that you are and bury you in the light so that Princess can never find you again. Please, we must kill the raven girl. She’s bad, will finish it all and that nasty Slayer will take you both until there is nothing left for me.”

“The curse, Dru? Is the gypsy going to return the soul?”

The vampiress nodded miserably, but felt buoyed by the resounding laugh that bounced from the walls and into her head. She echoed the confusion with her own cackle, feeling enormous with the power of knowing she was to kill.

It had to be done.

“Well, well, well. We have ourselves a little focus. What do you see, Dru? What does the little witch need to make my miserable self behave again?”

“A little glowy ball, your essence all a flutter in its middle. She needs it and will get it from the market seller.” Dru swung her head from side to side, becoming lost in the images that were once again flashing behind her eyes.

“I-I think I might know what she means and where the one you’re worried about might go to get it from.”

Angelus had ignored the human prisoner up to now, having had no idea of what to do with him so far. But now a plan was being formed and the malice in his grin made the other’s body go tense and coldly alert.

“It’s time to go a hunting, dear Ethan. Time to catch us a Magic Shop owner and make him bleed.”

Ethan swallowed hard, cherishing chaos and the possibility of death as long as he didn’t end up with said blood literally on his hands. But he was no longer in a position to argue, his own existence precarious. And so he followed, left with no other control but his grasp on causing chaos.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The jangle of the shop’s bell was a comfort. As much at home as she felt in such a place, the atmosphere in this shop was a little creepy, and Jenny found herself grateful that enough of the outdoor sun shone into the depths of the shop to keep her safe. Even still, she was hesitant as she made her way to the counter and the man behind it.

Just a step from where she needed to be to be polite, she stopped, becoming spooked by the subtle shifts in the shadows. It was a warning, though, and so she made to casually stroll to the shelves bathed wonderfully in sunlight. And from here she derived comfort from the rays; she found security against the things that she knew would be seeking her end. So, from the distance she smiled, hoping that the shopkeeper wouldn’t think her too odd and would serve her with enthusiasm and quickness. This place was giving her the creeps and she wanted to get out as soon as possible.

“I’m looking for an orb of Thessula,” she told him, giving him her needs even as she turned from the darkness of his look and scanned the shelves in front of her.

“Ah yes, the orb. These little lovelies could well put my kids through college.”

The joke he cracked both startled then settled her fears and she took a small step closer to him.

“Ah, you’re British. My friend is British, too.”

“A few of us about I’d imagine. Now, about that Orb. I just got a new crate in. Let me have a look out the back for you.”

She nodded gratefully as he stepped awkwardly back from the counter, almost tripping as he turned and disappeared behind some curtains. She heard his footsteps as they receded to the back and became quiet. The eerie presence of evil had dimmed a fraction with his absence, and Jenny sighed in discomfited relief.

Ethan was breathing heavily, his heart thudding hard in his chest as he stumbled over the extended leg of the dead shopkeeper and hurried out the back of the shop. His clammy hands slipped around the glassy surface of the orb and he nearly dropped it as the darkness crept up behind him.

“Fucking bitch won’t get out of the sunlight. I can’t kill her like this, and she’ll see me too fast and move back into it even if she does take one little princess step into the shadows. You’ll have to do something to that orb thingy so it won’t work when they go to use it.”

“I can create a fissure on the inside and destroy its purity?” He flinched even as the evil face lit up in glee.

“Perfect. That’s the trick. Do that.” And then he stood there, fangs at the ready as he watched and listened to a couple of odd Italiany type words stutter from his captive’s dry and cracked lips. Or maybe it was latin? As if he cared as long as the deed was done.

A small flash of swirling red and yellow lit up the dimness of the room and then went back to stillness. The Brit stood in a relieved satisfaction that the incantation worked and now the orb was corrupted, useless for whatever purpose Rupert and the gypsy girl wanted it for. The simplicity of it made him smile and he forgot his fear as he gloried in the approval from the other.

“Now, get out there and sell some orb.”

He received a none too gentle shove and he was back to seeing the dead person on the floor, wondering if the blood would ever disappear from his memory.

“Ah, here we go,” he said with a smile as he offered up the orb. “I’ll just pack it up for you, shall I?”

Jenny nodded gratefully, a huge sigh expelled now that she was closer to ending this threat to her life by returning a devil his soul. She took the box, delivered an awkward smile and left the shop, rushing into the safety of the sun as if hell were on her heels.

Eager to return home so she could render hell with one less instigator of its will. Shed the light back on a creature that deserved his road to redemption, even though he wasn’t going to take it on the road with Buffy.

A tremulous smile settled on her lips for her walk back to Rupert’s, the box held firmly in her hands.

The end felt so close. As much as she was loving living with Rupert—and her sexy negligees were going to such a good cause when they actually prepared for bed at night—getting back to her own life and being able to date held a merit she was eager to resume.

Yes, the end was a good place to be heading these days. She just prayed she got there in one piece.
 

Chapter 21:

When Buffy finally learned Spike’s secrets, it hit like a monster blow and destroyed her faith in herself, in her love and in her lover. As like any other cliché, she walked in on them, heard the tail end of a conversation that tipped her beliefs on their side and made her world go black.

He’d given her a key. Not surprisingly as he loved her and wanted his home to be her home, and it was, even if Xander wouldn’t budge from the couch as he watched sci-fi crap and munched himself out of junk food. But a key meant that she didn’t have to give notice, and until this moment, she never thought she would need to give it. Never thought she would need to screen her boyfriend’s visitors so that he wouldn’t be caught in a way that would destroy their relationship.

A woman’s voice floated out of the bedroom as Buffy stood terrified just inside the front door. As her heart slowed in fear, she took those vital steps closer so she could hear every vile sound and word that was already in the process of tearing her world apart.

“But Spike, you have to go back. Things have changed too much. You’re destroying my life by being here.”

“Oh, that’s rich, Anyanka. ‘M not goin’ back. Buffy loves me here. In the other time, she dumped me and everything was miserable. You were miserable. So how the bloody hell have I mucked things up?”

“Look, I can’t tell you, all right. All I can say is that if you stay in this timeline you’ll ruin everything. You’ll do more damage to Buffy by staying than you will if you go back.”

“That’s complete bollocks. Only life I’m doin’ damage to would be yours, and you chose to be a vengeance demon again and you know Harris won’t go with a demon, so you were well on the way to ruin before I ever made that stupid wish—”

“Ooh, see! You called it a stupid wish. If it’s so stupid you won’t mind going back. So what if Buffy is all damaged from digging herself out of her own grave, she might take you back if you end the wish. You just don’t know—”

“I bleeding well know that the chit hates me and uses me. Here she loves me, like I always wanted her to. I’m not bloody going back, so stop trying to make me.”

Buffy had made it to the doorway, had confirmed that those talking were clothed, if not decent. The words, words that told her nothing was as she thought it had been; that he was more different than she thought. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she watched him, saw his eyes darken in fear as he took her presence in and looked quickly to make sure Anya was still really in his room and arguing that he return to the original timeline.

“Who is this?” Buffy pushed through tight lips. Lips in pain already from the loss of Spike’s kisses.

He opened his mouth to reply, his voice coming a fraction too late to complete the task when Buffy waved her hand and cut him off.

“Never mind, I don’t really want to know. You said Vengeance demon, so I’m guessing some kind of payback is her job. Was coming back in time and making me fall for you your payback for my other self using you? I guess if that other me hates you then she doesn’t treat you very nicely. Are you like this there? Or are you a lot more evil, more like a soulless demon is meant to be like?”

She felt a spark of hope as he cringed at her words, his fear escalating as she took steps back from him.

“Buffy, love, let me explain. It isn’t like that. I loved you there and I love you here. That isn’t the point. Lots of things happened differently in that other time and I accidentally made a wish that brought me back here and I thought if we tried at this time, before you had your heart broken by the poof then—”

“So you intentionally changed my future so that it benefited you? How could you do that to me and say you love me? It sounds like you were using me this time. What a fantastic use of your vengeance girlfriend.”

Spike’s eyes went round. “She’s not my girlfriend. Buffy, I only love you. For ages, it’s only been you.” He tried to rush her, take her in his arms and felt his heart shrivel as she backed away from him, her hand raised and silently telling him to keep his distance.

“No. I don’t believe you. I don’t trust you.” Her body shivered at his stark expression, the hurt on his face at her words. But she was in so much pain, was crumbling with her confusion and couldn’t deal with his arms around her. Arms that had always made her feel safe and loved and as if there was hope that she might survive longer than the average Slayer.

“So much of my life you have kept from me. You’ve lied to me about myself. I feel like you’ve taken advantage of me and made me into something I wasn’t meant to be.”

“NO! That’s wrong. I made you into what you COULD be. I made sure the things that could destroy you in your future don’t even come near to hurtin’ you. Come on, just sit down and we can talk this out, yeah?”

“No.” She backed away even further, turned her haunted green eyes on the girl whose words had started the tumbling collapse of her world. She was pretty. She could see how Spike would go to her, and demon! They could live together forever, where she would probably only have a couple of years to be happy with him.

“Just stay away from me. I don’t want to talk to you, or see you right now.”

And she turned her back and ran, left behind the one place where she had found a sanctuary, and felt her heart tear as she said a quiet goodbye to Spike.

She should have known it was too good to be true.

~*~*~*~*~

“Eureka!”

Jenny jumped as Giles shouted his satisfaction, quickly surmising that he had finally cracked the curse. She felt the cold that had existed within her from the moment she knew her life was in danger slowly being to seep out and warmth replace it. They were done, had completed the job and now had the opportunity of making everything right again. Set everything back on track in each of their worlds and make Angel the safe and redemptive vampire that he had sought to be.

“Are you sure?” Her voice was filled with relief despite the questioning. She believed in Rupert. Other than herself, she trusted no one else to have deciphered the long dead curse but Rupert. And now it was complete and all she could think to do was rush and get the implements that would guarantee a little bit of safety in her corner of the world again.

At his nod she jumped to her feet and retrieved the collection of herbs and the ever-important orb.

He was grinning like a loon when she set it all in front of him, giddy with his success and the power of what they were about to do.

“Oh, I do hope you didn’t waste any money buying one of these. I have an orb at the library that I use rather efficiently as a paperweight.”

Jenny smiled at the image and shook her head, happy to let him think she must have had a spare lying around also.

It took time to set everything up, to set out the papers and read carefully through the whole translation to be sure everything made sense and was in order. Right on the brink, candles lit, and Giles’s door flew open and slammed against the wall.

The two adults blinked at Buffy as she ran through, tears heavy in her eyes and her lips trembling passionately in grief.

“He’s been lying to us, Giles. Everything was just him playing with us. A vengeance demon, wishes, how can I trust him now? How can I believe in anything? How can I love anyone again? I can’t do this. I can’t even look at him. I don’t want anyone else. But how could he do that to me, Giles?”

“Oh Buffy. I’m sure it wasn’t meant like that.” Giles watched his feet and wondered if maybe he could assuage some of his own guilt with a pot of tea, quickly discarding his own needs as Buffy continued her miserable recount of loss and disbelief.

“Then how was it meant? I just don’t know what to do. I can’t believe in anything anymore. Why did he stop me from dusting Angel? There could be another reason. An evil reason. I don’t know what to do, Giles. I don’t think I can go out there and fight anymore. How can I trust what is going on around me. Is he evil or good? I just don’t know.” She collapsed on his sofa, sobbing brokenly in her hands and completely painful to watch. “What’s real, Giles? I don’t know what’s real.”

She was building herself up into a mess of fear, allowing herself to be consumed with useless distrust and becoming weak with her lack of faith in the world.

Giles looked at his charge helplessly, then back at Jenny and the spread out preparations for the spell. Then he came to a decision.

“Th-there is something…in the Watcher’s Diaries. A quest. It might take a day or two. I-I could perhaps take you and you could seek some answers.”

He expected witty comebacks about Holy Grail quests and the like, but her emotional confusion was such that she was silent, her soft sobs the only noise against her agreeing nods.

“Can we go now? I need to know what’s going on, what the real truth is.”

Giles looked again at the ingredients and silently asked Jenny if she could cope with it on her own. She nodded hesitantly and looked longingly at him even as he turned back to his slayer. Even she could see that the girl was in no shape to fight, to stand up and defend them against demons and threats of the night. Whatever it was that Rupert could find to get her back on track and answer whatever it was that had devastated her, then it was something they needed. Not just Buffy, but all of them.

Giles made a quick trip around his flat, gathering some things and changing his clothes, and then took the distraught Buffy by the arm and led her outside and to his car. Jenny was left to contemplate her array of herbs and the dull and empty orb before sitting cross-legged on the floor and beginning.

It was a tumultuous time for all of them, but if she could take out just one of the complications, rid them of just one of the scary nightmares, maybe, just maybe they’d be okay.

As long as she didn’t leave the flat until the spell was done, as long as she didn’t take any risks while Rupert was gone, she had her thing to do.

She could only try.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“How was I supposed to know she was snooping behind the door? You’re the vamp, why didn’t you do any of that gross sniffing and know she was here?”

“Because I was bloody distracted by your unreasonable requests.”

“Unreasonable. Unreasonable? Huh! I hardly think that my trying to prevent you ruining my future is unreasonable.”

“An’ what exactly am I doin’ that is so bleeding wrong? I think it’s time you left and found some other poor sucker who needs to cause some pain. You’ve more than filled your quota here.”

He turned his back and missed her frustrated foot stomping before she teleported out of his bedroom. But he could smell the magic, and even if he couldn’t smile at having her gone, he could sigh his relief.

It was just typical. He’d gone back years into his past to prevent this kind of emotional trauma. He’d hurt Buffy. By keeping the real circumstances of his existence from her, he’d caused more damage, hurt their relationship. How much he didn’t know, but by the way she ran out of his place, by the look on her face, he was guessing quite a bit.

Before he could grab his duster and leave, Xander came barreling through the door.

“Hey there majorly unscary Vamp Man. What was wrong with the Buffster? She shot out here like you were trying to burn her booty.”

“Nothing you need to worry ‘bout. Where you think she’d run to these days when she’s upset?”

“No clue. Come on, Captain Clairol, how about I help you with the searching.”

Spike locked the door behind them and they started looking for Buffy.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~


It was chilly. Giles had parked in the middle of the desert. It looked like there was no car park, only endless miles of sand and wind. Pulled up on a dune with nothing but a scraggly bush and a tree for a break in the scenery.

She was struggling to care, feeling more like everything in her life had suddenly broken down and took on the ominous shade of dull grey, almost like clear static on a television. Drab. Lifeless. Empty.

But it was a struggle. She needed for Giles to think she wasn’t finished, wasn’t surrendering totally to the devastation she felt by having Spike’s lies rip her heart out. So she tried to be Buffy for him, tried to see some meaning in this little trip she found herself on. Even if she didn’t believe it could possibly get her the answers she needed to move on from this.

She didn’t want to have a life without Spike. The weeks, months had bound her heart to him, but how could she ever trust him now? How could she believe in him when he was obviously not who he had pretended to be?

Her cheeks seemed to be perpetually wet, crying out endless tears of loss. And then Giles was at the trunk of the car—no explanation of what she was here to do, of where they were or how they would go about receiving these answers he had promised her.

“What’s in the trunk?” Her natural Slayer curiosity took over in an effort to hide her from the pain that was not dimming at all as the minutes dragged by.

“Supplies.”

“Supplies? I was wondering about that. Like, food, water, maybe a compass?” For the first time since she’d walked in on Spike’s little conversation, she felt a weak smile tease her lips. It strengthened a little as Giles straightened up with his armful of resources.

“What about a book, a gourd, and a bunch of twigs?” he offered as if it were the most normal gathering of items ever.

“I don't think I'll be that hungry.” Inwardly she was laughing, just outwardly the unusual situation just made her want to cry some more.

“They're for me. Come on, this way.”

And they were off; heading further in a direction that Buffy was just as lost in. Her boots were all scrunchy in the sand. She sank in a ways and took step after step into dry nothingness.

“Well, this is kinda good for the calf muscles, and as good as that is, it’s not all with the answers.”

“Ha ha, Buffy. You see, the location of the sacred place is a guarded secret. I can't take you there myself.”

Buffy stopped short and looked at the endless sand, the heat haze that did little to disguise the fact that there was just nothing hidden that they didn’t already see.

“Uhuh,” Buffy said, her voice filled to the brim with her disbelief.

“I'll have to perform a ritual to ... transfer my guardianship of you, temporarily, to, to a guide. This'll do.”

Abruptly they stopped, unsurprisingly in a small expanse of sand that again held no answers to secrets. Giles began putting down his burden as Buffy’s eyes slowly looked around, took in the dry nothingness all around her and trying to sense this mystical guide that Giles seemed almost ready to surrender her to.

“A guide but no food or water. So it leads me to the sacred place, and then a week later it leads you to my bleached bones?” She thought about that for a second and her shoulders slumped miserably. “On second thoughts, that sounds good to me.”

“Oh good, because it takes more than a week to bleach bones, Buffy.”

She couldn’t help but crack a grin as Giles kneeled in the sand and began arranging his little armful of twigs in a circle around himself.
“So, how's it start?” Her natural curiosity was taking over the pain she still felt in her heart. It felt good to grab hold of something else and try to forget, block it out and find something of interest that could direct her elsewhere.

“I, uh, jump out of the circle and then jump back in it, and then, um ... “ He cringed a little and shifted from foot to foot in embarrassment. “I shake my gourd.”

It was impossible to resist.

“I know this ritual! The ancient shamans were next called upon to do the hokey-pokey and turn themselves around.”

His dirty look almost put her in her place. It might have worked if she had been anyone but the slayer.

“Go quest.”

Giles looked more than cute as he sighed and rolled his eyes, taking up his important position beside the circle of twigs and then jumped in, and out, shaking his gourd after a very short wait. He looked at Buffy, knowing without question he hadn’t ended yet his humiliation.

“And that’s what it’s all about.”

It didn’t take long for Buffy to become jealous of Giles. She was one for all the action usually, and now all she had to do was to stand around and wait for her guide. She watched with diminishing interest as he sat within the circle and began to read from his book. It sounded like something weird, perhaps Swahili, though it wasn’t like Buffy could tell. Whatever it was, it didn’t look like it was happening fast. She was left with no choice but to wander, try and find somewhere she could rest and think over her day, sort out her options and decide how far she could run away before no one could find her.

Giles’s voice began to fade as she wandered further away, venturing into the vast distance of sand that she feared she could disappear in forever. It matched everything she wanted in answer of her day. A mental numbness where she didn’t have to think, didn’t really need to see because unless she closed her eyes she was unlikely to come across something new.

Except she did see something new, something unexpected, but it wasn’t even as shocking as what it could have been. The mountain lion lying out so relaxed on the sand seemed like a gift to her frame of mind and she welcomed its presence with a mix of seeking an end to her pain from whatever means worked.

“Hello, kitty.”

Buffy followed the big cat as it rippled its powerful shoulders and moved the big fleshy paws along the sand. Out of nowhere appeared a passageway of rocks, a pass for her to encounter the secret place that she would never have found on her own. It was all set out, a big comfy rock all conspicuous in the middle of a spread of sandy desert and small bushes and spindly trees.

“I know this place.”

And she did. She knew it from somewhere so deep inside herself she never had a clue it was hidden there. Something so fundamental to the slayer within her that she could be nothing and no one else. She knew it so deeply that her comfort allowed her to drift, to fall into that abyss where she was always safe. Where she always knows. And where she always is.

When she awoke it was to face heat. More heat than before—a burning furnace of a fire that raged under control in front of her. She could only stare at the first Slayer as the image of her dark painted skin shimmered through the flames.

It numbed her mind. Her eyes were drawn to the darkness of the First Slayer’s and she found meaning in the connection.

“I know you. You're the first Slayer.” She paused, confused at the inherent knowledge. “ How do I know that?”

“This is a form. I am the guide. All will be clear. Be patient.”

“I have a few questions…about Spike. About who he is. About who I am and what he took away from me.”

“You think he took away your rightful path. Fooled you into a love that was not real.”

Though the flames obscured the person, the words hit Buffy hard; put into a form of finality the fears of what advantage he had taken by being in her future and coming into the past in order to manipulate it to his favour.

“Yes,” she admitted painfully, never letting her eyes fall from the figure of her guide despite the blur that was making everything a see of red and yellow.

“You’re afraid that the vampire has made your life a lie. Has changed your path to something not deserving of your power.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda it exactly.” The tears were gathering in her eyes and Buffy was ready to just give in and jump into the fire, allow it to take her over and put an end to the pain. It hurt so much, lanced so cleanly and yet stung until more tears brought even more tears.

“Look into the fire. Embrace the pain and see what your vampire has taken from you. Be one with who you would have been and feel your power over the soulless.”

And her eyes were drawn to the banked flames; fell into the roar of it as she became one with herself.

Became who she was always meant to be.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The flash within the orb had been fractured. Jenny looked at it now as the light faded back to darkness and realised that the spell had failed. She knew it in her gut and so sat tight where she was, not moving a muscle as the fear she had staved off for the past months began to seep deep into her psyche.

The overwhelming feeling of not knowing what else to do came over her as she tried to stop the shaking of her body. She felt a buzz from the magic, but it was minimal due to the spell’s failure. She was lacking the high that always settled with the success of achieving the goal, yet somewhere in her depths of magical knowledge she knew that it wasn’t the spell itself that failed. Nor did the reasoning fall amongst a lack of power on her own behalf. There was something wrong elsewhere, and as all the rest of the magic lay in the herbs and the beginnings of the soul capture had begun, it seemed reasonable that the fault lay in the orb itself.

A few subtle words and she revealed the crack. The burst of destructive magic from within that had destroyed their chances. Had made her efforts nothing but time wasting and twiddling thumbs.

But at least it wasn’t the spell. Wasn’t the words that had been recovered from over a hundred years of being hidden. Everything was still possible, was still to go as soon as she retrieved another orb. The orb that protected Rupert’s stack of papers from flying around his office.

But it could wait for daylight. They could wait another day.

Jenny Calendar could wait another day.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They’d searched most of the night and found no trace of her. Her scent had faded from all the places both Spike and Xander had thought to look, and instead they were left with little but frustration.
In Spike’s heart, though, he didn’t think she was in trouble. Just finding distance to protect herself. Not like he could blame her. He’d screwed it all up, and how bloody predictable was that? He should have known, done more than suspect that it would happen eventually.

There was nothing he could do now but wait. Wait and hope that when she was ready to be found, she would let him. Would allow him to let her in on exactly what he’d done and maybe forgive him for it, if she couldn’t find it within her to continue to love him.

He’d almost got the boy home when he felt them. Felt the insidious cold that always came with their presence, though he’d never noticed till now. Calculating their closeness as closing in, he grabbed Xander’s arms and pulled him faster up the stairs to their door. Over his shoulder he could see a blur of black and he dived for the door to his flat, holding both arms of his unlikely friend and shoved him hard through the door. The wood buckled under the weight and the boy ended up sprawled painfully on his back on the floor amongst splinters of wood.

When he regained his sense, Xander looked back to the open space where his front door used to be and saw Spike being torn apart by the combined efforts of his own sire and grandsire. Knowing Spike’s family tree only made the sight more chilling as he watched the vampire be torn to ribbons—too fast for the gem to heal him instantaneously—coating the hall in the red of his borrowed blood.

He did nothing, stayed in his bruised position on the floor while his landlord was beaten and taken. It seemed only minutes as Spike was overwhelmed and then carried away, feral snarls keeping Xander behind the safety of the vacant doorframe. Never before had he been so grateful to have moved in with Spike and made his place a sanctuary from evil.

But now Spike was in trouble, and they couldn’t find Buffy. Spike had prevented them entering Giles’s place earlier as the overpowering scent of magic wasn’t quite strong enough for him to rule out the lack of presence of Buffy or her watcher. He didn’t know what else to do. He’d have to go out and hope he could find Giles. In the dark. While vamps roamed around and looked for dinner.

He’d be best to just sit and wait a bit. He couldn’t help Spike now.
He needed Buffy.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She melted into the arms of her lover and felt the depth of his feeling for her. Felt it all as he coddled and loved her into womanhood before destroying her heart with his evil. She moved on to his death, swirling in his darkness until her sword found his chest and hell was denied access to her world once again.
The images rushed her—the face of her love, of her denial, of her choice and her failure. The ones that left her, her mother as well as the new men that hurt her more, made her hide behind the walls of her heart until there was nothing left for her to give out.

Spike. She saw him as he was and as he could have been, saw him as he loved and hated her. Saw him as he fought her, called her dance and then tied her up to make her still, to make her listen to his protestations. Make her see him, and ignore him, and yearn for him while all the time denying him.

The blood of that other Slayer, the future that had been denied to her flowed from one existence to another until every experience belonged to them both. Both had held him in betrothment, broken his nose in hatred and irritation. Kept him as far on the edge as reality would allow while ignoring everything about him, denying his ability to be, to love, to feel.

She shook as it all flowed into her, crossed into her body and became her new existence. It was all that she was, all that she was being right now.

Her death rocked everything and it all became clearer, the violence and the trauma of denied love even as she wanted it. Wanted to submit to him and let him be everything to her that he’d promised. Knew that he could but she was so warped, so broken in her heart and head to accept it.

Her previous existence was damaged. Spike came back and retrieved her innocence, gave her back a strength and belief in herself that she should never have been robbed of
.
It was clear and yet muddied at the same time; two existences lived even as one was eradicated. But merged and meaningful and wondrous and painful. And it was all filled with Spike, with Angel turning his back to her as Spike opened his arms. As Angel balanced on the edge of evil and Spike tipped toward salvation.

But now she knew. What belonged to her and what was out of her reach. What she truly loved and what she had conned herself into believing through youth and gullibility. Spike hadn’t ruined anything. Hadn’t taken anything from her. He’d tried to spare her pain, tried to heal wounds that were too deep to happen in the first time around. Tried to save her from death, but now she felt it. Now she owned that pain though it was tempered by the rationality of a more balanced experience of life.

And she had Spike to thank for it.

Had Spike to believe in.

Had Spike to love.

“Death is your gift. You are both. Your second death you were returned to life. This gift is returned to you. Now you have it for always, so you can be with the one you love forever. Use him wisely and hold him carefully. His heart is vulnerable and he hurts real pain—like you or your kin. Now you are both. Be wise, sister. Be the Slayer.”

And the fire was gone and her guide disappeared. And Buffy had a vampire to love.

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