Chapter 13: Fluff Prevails-For Now

Yes, for another short spasm of time, Buffy Summers walked with a bounce in her step. No reappearance of Rack, harmony all around with her friends and family, and the company of a certain seductive creature of the night certainly perked up her spirits. It was almost surprising how quickly she and Spike fell back into this game of holding each other only in the darkest shadows of back alleys, under stairs and closets in the Bronze, and yes, one time in the bathroom of the Magic Box (Tara had helped her disinfect it later). Other times, gentler, sweeter were often in his candle-lit crypt of even sometimes her bedroom, late at night.

And still a nagging, persistent voice in her urged her to come out with it once and for all, to the rest of her friends and family. Most of the early disgust and shame had faded, but spots of guilt still remained. Not only for not telling everyone, but not doing it for Spike’s sake. She often thought it puzzling that she had even began to consider his feelings, one’s she hadn’t even imagined he had up to a few months ago. But it was so different now. She felt safe and warm in his cool presence and her heart peaked every time he gazed down at her with a lazy smile plastered across his face. It was even nice. Well, not all the time. He still retained that infuriating cockiness that enraged Buffy so that she kept stakes near her at all times, just to see him tense and wait. They fought constantly, but it seemed that just as soon, he had pulled her back into his arms and back into their own way of aggressively making up. It always made for liveliness, and always seemed to keep Buffy on her toes. It was never boring.

And it wasn’t just the lust anymore. She remembered the first almost-domestic times they experienced, like the time he showed up with a sweet, unusually cocky free smile at her door, holding a handful of daisies. Spike with daisies. That would be the day, she often thought, but there he was. He took her off to a picnic, a rather unorthodox one, since is was at night in the park. But it was so sweet the way he had brought some of her favorite foods and the way he patiently fed it to her. She had no idea he could be so romantic, although it certainly did make sense. The gentle way he had treated Drusilla and how he wrote poetry for Cecily reminded Buffy of how soft formerly Big-Baddie Spike could be.

But she could never have imagined that Spike would ever offer his arm for her as they took moonlight walks down by the lake. Or that they could sit in silence so comfortably just in front of the T.V., the quietness only interrupted by snide remarks to the inane characters on the stupid soap opera they watched. Buffy giggling at Spike’s aggression towards poor Tabitha for mistreating Timmy that way, and Spike smiling, holding her close beside him tightly. Of course they could only do these things when Dawn was out with Willow and Tara, or if they said they were spending the patrolling while all the rest went a-bronzing. Even Riley and Angel weren’t this way with her. When Riley took her out, it usually felt mundane, no matter what they were doing, even when he was trying his damnedest to make it special. She always appreciated his rather dilapidated efforts with soft affection, but she could never say that their relationship was the romance to end all romances. With Angel, it was awkward most of the time. In each other’s presence, they always felt anxious, not knowing what to say, falling victim to the slow-burning uneasiness that claimed them both. She hadn’t recalled ever feeling glazed with delight and pleasure with Riley and Angel the way she was with Spike.

Buffy didn’t know if this meant love or what. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to admit that to herself. But Spike stopped pushing, never speaking about that night at Rack’s. He was just happy enough to have her around the majority of the time with her not kicking his ass. Buffy at times would sit back at look at his hard, chiseled face in amazement, remembering that this was once the man that had tried to kill her multiple times. She let that go, but it still astonished her sometimes and sent waves of apprehension down her spine. She was looking at him that way that afternoon as they sat in each other’s arms in Buffy’s bed.

"Here now," Spike inquired, looking down at Buffy who sat reclined between his legs, head resting on his chest. "What’s that look for?"

Buffy smiled at the way he was brushing his fingers ever so softly down her bare arms. "S’nothing. It’s just that . . ."

"Just that. . . .?" Spike’s eyebrows raised as his voice drifted when he went to nuzzle the top of her forehead.

"When you first saw me that night, behind the Bronze, did you think I was hot?"

Spike chuckled loudly at her innocently put question. "I would have to been blind to think otherwise," he said smiling.

"Even when you wanted to kill me?" Buffy’s voice did not change in softness and she played with his hand, intertwining the fingers between her own.

Spike propped his chin on the top of her head thoughtfully. "Well a course, pet. I hated you then, and that was at first glance."

"Thanks a lot," Buffy snorted, suddenly breaking free from his hand.

Spike caught her hand once more. "What I mean is, I hated you without even really knowing you. You intrigued me and stirred up some powerful force within my body. I never knew that kind of feeling before."

Buffy turned to look at him. "The feeling of hatred?" she said, her eyes cold.

Spike smiled, still nuzzling his lips to hers. "A passionate feeling, luv. In my book, you can’t have hate without love. One feeling replaced by the other."

Buffy pushed him back, his head crashing into the headboard. "So what, you hate me . . . and love me to? This is sounding more and more like fairy-tale material every day."

Spike propped himself up to edge closer to her. "That’s not what I meant. You were asking me if I thought you were hot. I did. In a raging, bloodthirsty type o’ way."

"Color me thrilled that you were getting your violent jollies off on plans for my death."

Spike chuckled. "I’m just saying that you turned me on, Slayer. Even when I didn’t know you, you drew me. Much like you do now." Swiftly, he grabbed her arms and shifted her over so she was caught beneath him. She yelped.

"D-Dawn’s going to come home soon," she said, panting already with excitement.

Spike looked over at the clock on her table. "Not for another half-an-hour. Let’s see?" Spike raised his head in mock ponderance. "What could we do in half-an-hour?’ Buffy emitted a giggle and reached up to meet his lips that quickly dove into her own, possessing the sweetness of her tongue. Groaning, she moved so that her arms were up over her, grasping onto his neck. Spike moved so that he could shoulder his duster off. Buffy had wrapped her legs around his waist, arching up to him and causing him to groan deeply. Spike’s mouth moved to nip at the tender area at her neck as Buffy sighed heavily in response. She absently moved her hands down so that she was unbuckling his belt in haste, leaving Spike to groan as well. Suddenly, Dawn burst into the room, bright-eyed and curious, one deadly combination for the Dawnster.

"Hey Buffy guess what I’m home ear---WHOA!" She backed off nearly out of the room and looked at the scene before her with gleeful shock.

"Dawn, get out of here!!!!!" Buffy immediately yelled, getting up quickly, brushing a panicked Spike aside.

"Oh my God, I can’t believe this!" Dawn exclaimed, her eyes widened the size of dinner plates. "I mean, I’m not surprised, but WOW!"

"DAWN!!!" Buffy’s eyes flashed with unrestrained anger as she started to forcibly shove Dawn out. She stopped when she realized what time it was. "Wait . . . why are you home so early?" She signed with harsh frustration. "Have you been skipping?"

Dawn threw a wrathful look. "Right, because I’m clearly dumb enough to burst into my sister’s room and tell her all about my hooky habits. No stupid, we got to go home early. Something about a gas leak. A room in school nearly blew up and the rest of school had to be evacuated. So don’t worry, it’s just potential death and destruction. Nothing as extreme as me cutting school."

Buffy’s brows furrowed. "Gas leak? It’s such a new school, how could there be maintenance problems already?"

Dawn shrugged as she plopped onto Buffy’s bed. "Don’t know, don’t care." Her eye’s sparkled with intense curiosity and she did not even try to contain her mischievously wide grin. "I just caught you and Spike bout ready to DO IT. So spill." Spike couldn’t help but cockily smirk which he promptly changed to an unwavering line when he saw the stern look on Buffy’s face."

"A. We were not doing anything on my bed," Buffy said in her my-sister-is-the-biggest-pain-in-the-ass voice. "B. You are never allowed into my room again. I’ll get Tara to do a dis-invite spell or something."

Dawn reclined onto the bed lazily, one hand propping her head up. "That only works for vampires," she yawned. "Besides it’s not my fault you and Spike were sucking face. You should have just a left a sign on the door or something."

Buffy winced when she heard Dawn describing her and Spike’s activities that way. "DAWN GET OUT OF HERE NOW!!!" Her voice could not contain the growing rage boiling within her.

"No!" Dawn insisted. "I want to know everything. I mean, what a shock! Well not really, I always knew the Spike was jonesing for you, Buff, but w-wow! Now you’re like, officially my big brother and stuff." Dawn bounced off the bed and happily wrapped an arm around intensely amused Spike.

"Finally someone who can put you in your place, Littl’ Bit," he responded, speaking in a playfully growling voice. Dawn made a face.

"Just cause you’re giving it to Buffy doesn’t mean you can tell me to do my homework now and stuff." Dawn punched him on the shoulder, grinning madly

"That’s enough!" Buffy interrupted. Her hands flew to her hips as she made it apparent through her facial expression how disgusted she was. "You had better get out of here by the time I count to three. ONE . . . TWO . . . THRE----"

All three stopped and froze with fear as they heard the front door slam, all of them turning to stare out the door. Dawn whirled around. "That’s probably Willow home early."

Buffy couldn’t believe this was happening. Why of all days did she choose to bring Spike home? The day where suddenly everyone’s schedule seem to shift an hour early? "Either get the hell out or close the door!!" she hissed to Dawn. Dawn crept towards the bedroom door and shut it quietly. Afterwards, she bounced right back to Buffy, grasping her hands as if she was trying to shake information out of them.

"So when did this happen? Are you guys together? Does everyone else know?" Dawn rapidly rolled out all her questions as Spike went back to lazily prop his feet up on the bed.

Buffy sighed. "Dawn I’m not going to discuss this with you, seeing how it is my business and not yours and all."

Dawn whined. "But you gotta! I have to know! And it is my business and all too. You’re my sister and you’ve been doing . . . things," she made a face, "in our house. You at least told me about Angel and Riley." Spike couldn’t help grimacing at those names. "Who else knows about this?" Dawn asked persistently.

Buffy’s lips tightened. "Tara and I’m not sure, but I think Xander."

Dawn frowned. "Oh. Less people to tell."

Buffy grabbed her arms and shook her. "You are not telling anybody, you understand me? Not even Xander, because I’m not sure if he really knows."

"Come on luv, the girl’s obviously excited," Spike pointed out. "You can’t expect her to keep it in. That’s unnatural for a girl her age."

"Yeah huh!" Dawn protested, pointing to Spike and his justification. "You can’t expect me not to make a big deal about this, because it so is."

"Whether it is or not, you are not telling anybody," Buffy gritted. Spike frowned, seeing how insistently she wanted to keep this a secret. Bloody hell, he thought tiredly. She’s not freakin’ out ‘bout this again, is she? Why is it so hard for her to just tell?

Dawn opened her mouth to curtly argue further, but was interrupted by Tara’s voice calling loudly. "Buffy?! Buffy are you there?!" Buffy stiffened and made her way downstairs, Spike and Dawn trailing her. When she got downstairs she found Tara slumped over against the door with her face streaked with tears.

"What happened, what is it?" Buffy asked firmly.

Tara looked up at her with watery eyes. "It’s Willow. She’s in trouble again."

Buffy swallowed away the heavy lump that suddenly formed in her throat. "Rack?" Tara nodded.

"Down . . . at the school . . . they found her near the gas pipes. She’s unconscious and it appears she turned them on." Tara’s voice broke and wavered.

"Rack must have taken over her body again and went to school to turn the gas pipes on," Dawn murmured.

"And thank you Dawn for stating the obvious," Buffy sighed. "Where is she?"

"Hospital." Tara sounded deathly quiet. "She has a concussion and they haven’t been able to bring her back to consciousness."

Buffy’s eyes filled with tears. She glanced over her shoulder to look at Spike. His reassuring eyes gave some comfort to her worried heart and she grabbed her jacket. "Let’s go," she whispered softly.

Buffy and Spike sat silently on the cold, hard vinyl hospital chairs. "I hate this place worse than hell," Buffy muttered, looking down her full, cold cup of coffee. Spike glanced sideways at her and reached for her hand.

"I know pet," was all he said, but it was enough as she accepted his hand and leaned her head down on his shoulder. She was glad he was here.

"It seems inevitable that I should spend most of my days here," Buffy remarked, her eyes gazing vacantly in front of her. She turned to look at Spike. "I mean, weren’t we just here for Dawn a couple days ago? And now this?" She sighed, all of the tiredness emitted out of her body with one weary outtake of air. "I practically lived here when my mom . . ." She couldn’t finish, her eyes filling with fresh tears. Spike put his hand up to cup her head as he brought her forehead to his lips. She put her head back onto his shoulder. "I’m glad you’re here," she murmured quietly.

"Me too," Spike said, warmed by the fact that she was letting him hold her and kiss her in a time like this. Not like all the times that ponce, Riley was with her as she paced back and forth this same room, agonizing over her mother.

"Hey guys." Xander and Anya approached the lobby waiting area with flowers and a teddy bear. Buffy and Spike tore themselves apart quickly before the other couple could notice.

"Hey," Buffy said raggedly, looking at the flowers and stuffed animal.

"We um, brought Willow a kind of condolence gift, y’know so she would be a little comforted and forget about the fact that she endangered the lives of school-age children?" Anya waved the small teddy bear around.

"Okay, um sweetie?" Xander lightly put his hands on Anya, once again directing her on the proper etiquette of humans. "When we get in there, you hand her the gifts, and then DON’T SAY ANYTHING." He waved his hands in the air to make it implicitly clear. He looked back at Spike and Buffy. "You guys looked wrecked. How long you been here?"

"Four hours," Buffy replied. "They took Willow in for some X-rays or scans or something, and we’re just waiting for some news about how’s she doing."

"Where’s Tara and Willow?"

"Down in the cafeteria, trying to get something to eat. And probably visiting. We’ve already made friends with all the hospital staff already. I bet Sue is sneaking them a free Jello."

Xander sank into the seat next to her, wrapping one arm over her shoulder. "Willow’s going to be okay," he assured her. Buffy gave him a weak smile.

"But why now? W-why did Rack possess her now?" she asked. "What about the protection spells? Why did they stop working?"

"Because they weren’t strong enough anymore," Tara replied, arriving back with Dawn and various cups of Jello. Dawn was busy handing out the cups, giving the only blood-colored one to Spike. "I think they weakened with every use." She sat next to Xander. "I give them to her all the time, but they . . . just stopped working." Tears rolled down Tara’s face.

Buffy went over to crouch in front of her. "Don’t worry Tara, everything is going to be cool. Maybe there’s a way we can still figure this out. At least no one was hurt."

"Uh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that guys," Anya motioned slowly towards the hospital T.V., where there was a special news report.

"Breaking news just in. Today, Sunnydale has been under attack from heavy rioting and looting, citywide. This unusually violent behavior has been exhibited through normally respectful citizens of Sunnydale, leaving some to conclude if it is once again and mystical force or activity acting upon the city. Libraries have been ransacked, stores robbed and broken into, banks held up and bonfires have been set in the street. Many point out the instigators as various Wiccans, a group of magically inclined people, known to be usually peaceful. Police and authorities are arresting many members of known Wiccan occult groups and bringing them in for questioning."

Everyone grimly turned away from the T.V. "Harsh," was all Xander could mutter.

"It’s Rack," Buffy said quietly. "It’s begun. He’s trying to open the Hellmouth, and create chaos to make it happen. And he’s using Willow."

"What about Tara?" Dawn whined clinging to her. "The news said that they’re arresting lots of witches who probably are all Racked-up. She’s not, but what if they take her into custody?"

Tara looked seriously at Buffy. "Dawn has a point."

Buffy thought a moment. "You’ll just have stay low-profile for awhile until this blows over," she concluded, getting up and pacing.

"And what ‘bout this Rack guy?" Xander pointed out. "We can’t just let him get his kicks with helpless people. Especially Willow." His fists were clenched.

Buffy continued to pace. "We have no idea how to touch him," she said grimly. She paused and hugged herself. "God! If only I wasn’t so concerned and absorbed in my own life," she was trying not to look at Spike. "I could have protected her, helped her from the beginning."

"Cor, Slayer, don’t be doing none of that," Spike said comfortingly, laying a hand on Buffy’s shoulder, which Buffy responded by smiling thankfully at, almost against her will. Xander saw the small exchange and raised his eyebrows slightly. "It’s no one’s fault, but it’s everyone’s business to see this Rack get what’s comin’ to him."

"Yeah that’s so easy with him being totally un-killable and all," Xander reminded. "And from the looks of it, ubiquitous too." He looked around at all the confused faces. "What, Xander knows big words. Is that such a shock? It means ‘always present’." Spike snorted at him.

"Xander’s right," Tara agreed. "He obviously can manifest himself in more than one person at a time."

"So what do we do?" Anya asked, gazing at all the serious faces. "Kill all of his magic-induced cronies?"

"We can’t do that," Buffy said tiredly.

"Why not?" Spike asked quickly. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Because they’re not demons. They’re people. People like Willow. Innocent people who are under Rack’s trap."

All of a sudden, a sharp crash could be heard down the hall. Buffy turned to look and saw Willow stalking down the hallway in a hospital gown. She was pushing all of the nurses and attendants who tried to restrain her off, throwing a couple into the walls. She threw a gurney at the front desk where many promptly ducked and made her way to Buffy.

"Slayer," she hissed in Rack’s grovelly voice. "I knew you would be here."

"Rack." Buffy glared at Willow, whose eyes were pitch black. She cocked her head. "We have to stop meeting like this. Maybe something more my style. Over a candle-lit dinner, soft music, not in my friend’s body---"

"Silence," he roared. "I just came here to warn you."

"And so you decided to send a person-o-gram?" Buffy said, voice dead pannish.

"I just wanted to tell you that you cannot stop what has begun. You think you can kill me, destroy me. Never." He began to rumble with laughter. "Because I’ll never leave Willow alone again. Not until she is fully mine. And I can make her mine you know. Every time I fill her body, her spirit, I only become stronger and she becomes weaker. She’ll weaken so much that there’ll be nothing left. Soon she will be only filled with me, a person devoted to the darkness. And you’ll never, ever have your sweet Willow again." Buffy stood in front of Rack, fear cursing her and making her frozen as she realized what he was saying. The moment she could snap out of it, Willow lurched backward and cried out. She collapsed on the floor again.

"Willow?" Tara screamed anguishedly. Doctors and nurses rushed to Willow’s side, bounding her to a cart and immediately hooking her up to a monitor.

"B.P. dropping by 80," one nurse said.

"Pupils not dilating."

"She’s turning comatose," a doctor yelled as they rushedly wheeled her into another room.

"What?! What’s going on?" Tara yelled as she tried to push away the nurses that restrained her. "What’s happened?! Where are they taking her?!"

The nurse pulled back gently. "We’re doing all we can Miss. She’s falling back into unconsciousness and she’s going to the ICU."

"The ICU?" Xander asked, his face pinched white with fear. "Is she---"

"She’ll be fine sir," was all the nurse said before leaving the group standing there astounded and gazing at each other in shock.

Chapter 14: Painful Solutions

"I can’t believe this," Xander whispered, almost inaudibly. His throat and chest felt so tight that he was surprised he could get a word out of them. He gripped the edges of table at the Magic Box and stared vacantly in front of him. Buffy sat next to him, the same expression of shock and sadness on her face. Tara sat huddled in the corner, still letting the tears wash over her glistening face. Dawn sat worriedly and unusually quietly at the front desk. Spike stood silently, next to Dawn, smoking a cigarette with a thoughtful expression on his face. Even Anya was caught up in the morose mood and worriedly looked from person to person as she dusted.

"So if we don’t kill him, he’ll take over her," Buffy was saying emotionlessly, "He’ll break down her spirit and kill her."

Xander whirled towards her. "We can’t let this happen!" He exclaimed. "This can’t happen again!" Buffy involuntarily cringed at the words. Xander softened as he noted this and wrapped an arm around her. Buffy continued to stare vacuously.

"We haven’t found a way to keep Rack out of her body. The only way is to kill him, but . . ."

"I still say that we just kill one of the many other losers Rack picked for playmates," Spike said harshly although he softened his voice when Buffy turned to glare at him. "Sorry luv, I didn’t mean Red."

Buffy stood up and started pacing, a telltale sign of worry for her. "We can’t," she sighed. "As much as it would stop all this madness---" she motioned towards the door and the window where they could hear the blare of sirens and screams coming from outside, "We can’t just kill an innocent person."

"But some of them aren’t innocent," Xander said, his voice full of anger. "What about Amy? She took Willow there under false pretenses, got her all stuck on some guy that uses human bodies as currency. Why can’t we find her and---"

"Xander!" Buffy looked shocked at what he was implying. "Amy and people like her had no choice in this. Sure, she made a bad decision in going to Rack, but they had no idea what he was about. We can’t possibly kill them because of it!"

"But Buffy," Spike said, his voice softly insistent. "Think of it. Just one person, just one can make this stop. Can make all this soddin’ whirly-go-round o’ blood and gore stop. Personally, I don’t mind the not hurrying, kind of harks back to the old days for me but still---"

Buffy cut him off, enraged at how Spike could still maintain his violent tendencies in a time like this. "NO. We are not going to kill anybody. We can’t."

Xander stood up and briskly strode over to Buffy. "I hate to agree with the Melanin-Deprived Wonder over there, Buff, but he’s right. We have to think about this. I know the morals of this but---"

"It’s not even about the morals," exclaimed Buffy with a voice full of anger and hardness. "I watched Faith kill an innocent man, Xander. That’s not something you can forget about. Even if the guy could have been corrupt or brain dead, he was a person. A human being. We can’t take life from any person involved in this." She looked firmly at Xander with agonized eyes.

"Buffy," Spike sounded more caustic, harder now, impatient with her stubbornness. "We have no choice. It’s not like these people have anything going for them."

"They could be Willow!"

"Exactly. They could be Willow. People exactly like Willow. People that Rack are just using, destroying, breaking down until there’s nothing left. So what’s the point if we kill one of them and kill him as well?"

Buffy shook her head resolutely. "No. We don’t know that. We can’t take that chance." She gazed deeply into his eyes. "We can’t risk killing an innocent person."

Frustrated, he grabbed her by the arms and seemed like he was trying to shake sense into her. "You’re the Slayer," he told her through gritted teeth. "You take risks. You handle things like this all the time."

She threw his arms off her, incensed. "I’m the Slayer. I’m not a killer." She glared at him with rage. "Although you can’t understand that, being a soulless demon and all. You don’t care about adding to carnage that’s already out there."

Spike stepped away from her slowly. "That’s not fair Slayer," he spat out testily.

"What’s fair? That my best friend’s slowly being killed by something beyond her control? Fair that everyone is coming to me, pressuring me to take a life? I know death. I felt it. I am not going to be impose that to any human."

Spike began to notice that Buffy was shaking. "Buffy---" he started softly, stepping nearer to her.

"Don’t," she uttered as she recoiled from him. Spike sighed and ran his hands through his platinum hair.

"So what do you want us to do?" he said with tired patience. She whirled to glare at him again.

"Do? You don’t do anything. I take care of this myself."

"Buffy, you need someone on your side---"

"I sure as hell don’t need you!" She yelled as she grabbed her jacket and began to head for the door. Spike stood back and looked as if he had been slapped in the face.

"Buffy!" Dawn exclaimed fearfully. "You can’t just go out there! The rioting-"

Buffy turned to give her a reassuring look. "Don’t worry Dawn, I can handle it. I’m just going out to patrol, maybe think of something, clear my head."

"Wait, I’ll come with you," Spike said, striding over beside her.

"No." Her voice was as cold as her facial expression. "I’m going by myself."

"Buffy." Spike’s jaw clenched. "You need someone to watch your back. Someone to help you with this."

"You’ve done enough," Buffy snapped as she swung open to the door and slammed it shut. Spike sighed as he turned to face and confused and worried Scooby gang.

"What was that about?" Anya asked, trying to unsuccessfully hide her curiosity.

Spike lazily stepped off the landing and plopped into the chair. "That stupid git of a sister of yours is too goddamn stubborn for her own good," he informed Dawn. Dawn nodded seriously.

"I know," she whispered. "You can’t ever get her to change her mind. When she thinks there's something she has to do, she does it. Like when Glory---" Dawn’s eyes filled with tears.

Spike patted her hand before she could continue. "Don’t worry Nibblet. She’s not gonna get herself into trouble, not on my watch. We’ll figure something out." Dawn smiled up at him, relieved slightly.

Xander frowned. "Something as in what? Because so far, our attempts at something have turned out to be stinking dung heaps of nothing."

Spike turned to Xander, prepared to utter a searing insult when a small, black gadget sitting on the shelf caught his glance. He stopped and got up to look at it.

"What is this?" He asked Anya as he went over to inspect the apparently ancient contraption.

"That?" Anya asked, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh I think that’s the concentric amulet of the Sumerian god, Bublosoth. It just kind of came in a shipment last week from London." Spike turned the instrument back and forth in his hand, his brow furrowing up a storm. He pursed his lips as he lost himself in his thoughts.

"Tara," he said, as soon as he had refocused his attention back onto the Scoobies. "Have you ever heard the witch Kalik’shia?"

Tara looked puzzled. "No, I’ve never----" She stopped. "Wait. I’ve heard of that amulet before. And something about it involving a world-famous witch." She rushed up the stairs to where Anya and Giles had kept the important and darkest books on magic. Running back down, she clutched a huge, musty book. "K-Kalik’s-shia." She looked up. "I found her." She rushedly swept most of the items on the table aside as she set the huge book down. Spike came to inspect the yellowed pages. He put a slender, white finger to the page and scanned down the lines.

"I can’t bloody believe that after all this time I didn’t even think of . . ." Spike muttered, skimming the ancient texts. Xander and rest looked at each other, thoroughly confused. Finally Spike’s eyes gleamed with recognition. "Ahh. Here." He began to read aloud. "Kalik’shia. Highly powerful, yet menacing sorceress known to cast extremely dangerous and dire spells of annihilative consequence. Feared to for her treacherous destruction, as well as her seeming invulnerability to attack of any kind, a group of cloistered Jesuits cast a spell on Kalik’shia, making her----" he paused as he turned to gaze at the rest of the group, "Fully mortal."

Everyone was silent for a few seconds. Tara, in her optimistic rush was the first to break silence. "What does this mean?" she demanded. "That we can turn Rack mortal? W-we can k-kill him?"

Spike rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. "I dunno. I only remembered how back in the day, this mate o’ mine was showing me this contraption," he juggled the amulet awhile in his hands. "And telling me about how it he jacked it from these monks way before m’ time, after they had used this thing to turn this incredibly bitchy doll into a human and killed her. I mean, I don’t know if it can work, I don’t know if Rack and this Kallie bit have the same kind of power, but. . ."

"So that’s it?" Xander asked, his face as well as Tara’s beginning to brighten. "We use that to turn Rack mortal and then we can kill him?"

Spike turned back to the book. He held a hand up in hesitation. "Wait a bit, Scoobs. It says here that there’s more involved in the ritual." Anya came over to inspect the book as well.

"Well we have most of that stuff here," she pointed out, motioning to the neatly stocked shelves. "What’s the big deal?"

"The monks then needed the blood of one who carried the darkness of night, that which to mirror the witch’s own.," Spike continued to read. "However, the humanity of a soul was necessary to fulfil the needs of the ritual to make the Dreaded human . . ." he looked up thoughtfully.

"Meaning what?" Xander asked. "Seriously, they need cliff notes for this ancient lingo magicky books."

Spike slammed the book shut. "It’s pretty straight forward actually, Harris. ‘Blood of one who carries the darkness of night’? ‘Humanity of a soul’? I think the fates are doin’ a bit of channeling to our ever-favorite Anne Rice wannabe."

Xander’s lips pursed as his face went grim. "Angel," was all he said.

"Bingo. Seems like this pleasant little spell requires a little soul-fortified blood from me beloved grand-sire." Spike didn’t bother to hide the mordant bitterness in his voice.

Xander groaned. "Why is it that these spells always require such stupid ingredients. I mean, eye of newt isn’t funky enough for ya?"

Tara’s spirits were obviously raised as this new prospect. "What does it matter? This is it. This will save Willow." Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t restrain the fierce smile that spread on her face.

Spike couldn’t help but feel his insides and his borrowed blood chill so that every vein in his body nearly felt like it was painfully turning to icicles. He hated Angel with all his being, jealously thinking of all the pain he caused with Drusilla, and then with Buffy by just being there in spirit, a cloud of past memories and confusion that she seemed to cling to. And he wanted more than anything to scream at everyone not to do this bleedin ritual, not if it meant bringing back that bloody poofter. But he knew what Buffy was going through with Willow, how desperately she feared for her. And now Tara, a gleam of pure brightness washing over her, well, Spike couldn’t very well ignore it. Although he told himself a thousand times that he didn’t care rot about any of the Scoobies, somewhere in his empty, lifeless chest, he felt a pang of awareness, something that told him that this was the right thing to do. Bloody freakin’ hell. Big Bad Spike had developed a conscience.

"I’ll call Angel then," he asserted quietly, shocking all.

"Angel? Angel as in you’re whole ‘much-hated sire Angel’?" Xander looked at him incredulously.

"Well what else can we do?’ Spike asked tiredly, throwing up his hands in frustration. "And no one tell Buffy about this, y’hear?" he growled, fiercely glaring at everyone in sight. No one responded, only nodding their heads in agreement, so he went to the back training room to make the call.

Spike gripped the phone so tightly that his usually white skin seemed transparent over his strained knuckles. "Hey." His jaw clenched and he could almost feel his game face arise just at the tone of restrained hatred in his voice. "Yeah, it’s me. I need to ask you for a favor . . ."

Buffy sighed as she paced back and forth in front of Spike’s crypt. She was done with patrolling, but she remained in the graveyard, debating whether or not to go in. She certainly felt guilty for the way she acted at the Magic Box, but at the same time she felt so angry. Angry at Xander, all of the Scoobies, for looking at her with same old look of pressuring expectation as if to say, "Well what are you waiting for, Buffy? Go fix this." Like always, world goes haywire, Apocalypse comes to town on a visit, it all gets dumped into Buffy’s lap. Didn’t they understand that it had only been a few months since she had desperately clawed her way back into life? And a few months before that that she had to deal with the harsh reality of her mom’s death? That after all that, she couldn’t take a life, deal with the repercussions of death once more? It wasn’t like taking a demon life. This was a human. It would cross Buffy from the world of Slayer to Murderer. After all this time, she wasn’t prepared to deal with death that closely after she had tried so hard to shake it off.

But at the same time, she understood why it could have been the right thing to do. This was for Willow. And there was no other person for the job of protecting her, as well as the rest of the town. So once again, she felt the same mix of resentment as well as devotion for her duty as a Slayer that she had felt for the last couple of years.

But now there was something in her life that made her reevaluate that duty. Damn Spike with his goddamn charm and his goddamn allure. If it wasn’t for him, this whole thing with Willow wouldn’t have happened in the first place. She had never neglected her duty as Slayer as she did now. Granted, she was busy dealing with her death, playing Mom for Dawn, paying the bills and worrying about the groceries. But she had to admit, Spike certainly took up a lot of her time. Riley had been so easy to push out of the way when duty called, and Angel was never there for the majority of the time anyway, but Spike . . . Buffy couldn’t get rid of him, and she was unsure of whether she wanted to. But she knew that what should be. If she wasn’t so busy absorbed in her own thoughts of Spike, she would have caught Willow with her whole magick thing before any damage was done. She could have been more supportive, more helpful, more understanding so that Willow would have never even felt the need to go to Rack in the first place. Buffy reflected over all of this as she twirled a stake in her hand thoughtfully. Yes, she had arrived at a decision. She had to do what she had to do.

Thrusting open the door with the standard clang and bash, she stood in the dark mustiness of Spike’s crypt. She stood in the same spot for awhile, conflicted on whether to go downstairs, where she knew he probably was since the T.V. wasn’t on upstairs or to leave while she still had a chance. Jutting out her chin and donning an air of resolution, she marched downstairs.

The air faded considerably when she found him sleeping, his slicked hair mussed and buried among linen sheets. This always got her, seeing him sleeping like this. He usually slept with his nose buried in the pillows, his arms on either side of his head, like a boy. She often lay awake beside him just to marvel on how different and beautiful he looked while he slept. She knew he did the same when she was asleep and that made her firm countenance slip further. Trying to avoid staring at his lean, sinewy, uncovered back for much longer, she roughly nudged him awake.

"Huh? What?" Spike groggily said, springing awake. He looked up. "Buffy?"

Buffy immediately put her resolute face back on. "Hey. She tried to make it sound as unfeeling as possible.

"Hey," he answered, slightly confused and disoriented as he sat up in bed. "What can I do for you luv?" More awake, his smirk fell in place. "Although I recall hearing that I’ve done enough."

Buffy’s lip curled over sulkily, becoming one of her staple expressions, just like Spike’s famous smirk. "Oh. I . . . I just wanted to . . ." She started to mumble under her breath. "Apologize for that."

Spike leaned exaggeratedly near to Buffy. "What’s that? Didn’t catch it."

"I said I’m sorry," Buffy said loudly. " I might have been . . . a little . . . stressed, and hence, unfair. So I’m apologizing. There you happy? I’ve said it three times now."

Spike grinned. "Very happy." He wanted to impulsively grab her into his arms at that moment but she stepped back further, as if guessing his intentions. He frowned, seeing her expression of firmness and seriousness. Seeing his reaction of hurt and confusion, Buffy wavered. She sighed and approached him once again.

"Can I?" she asked grumpily, indicating the bed. Trying to hide his satisfaction, he scooted in and held up the blanket so she could snuggle into the warm sheets and cradle into his cool hold. For a few moments they sat in silence, her enjoying the feel of his arms around her, him enjoying the scent of her hair and the feel of her small, soft body against his compact one. "Spike?" Buffy asked, breaking the silence abruptly.

"Hmm?" Spike didn’t move or change his expression, but continued to twine his fingers into her golden hair.

"If I asked you do something for me, would you do it?"

"Always, pet."

"If I asked you to stay away from me, would you?" She spoke slowly and deliberately. Spike stiffened slightly, but Buffy couldn’t feel it. He continued to sit, not facing her and playing with her hair.

"Why? He asked, trying not to let his beginning feelings of anger and hurt fade into his voice although he immediately thought, Not again!

Buffy sighed and turned to face him. "Because . . . because of Willow. I think that I should be more focused on Willow and this Rack thing."

Spike pursed his lips. "So you don’t want to see me because you’re too busy taking care of Willow?"

"It’s not just that. It’s---it’s just that if I wasn’t so . . . distracted, this whole thing with Willow would have never happened."

Spike remained emotionless. "So that’s my new name, eh? Distraction?"

Buffy ducked her head tiredly. "No, I don’t mean it like that. I just mean that . . . if I wasn’t so . . . involved in other . . . things, I could have paid more attention to Willow, made sure this whole thing with Rack didn’t happen."

Spike had let go of her. He snorted frustratededly. "Not again, Buffy. How many times are you gonna blame yourself for this?"

"Well why shouldn’t I?" Buffy asked, bristled. "I mean, she was living under my roof. I just too self-absorbed to notice what was going on."

Spike reached over to get a cigarette and light it. "Red is a big girl. She made her own decision to go down there, you can’t play Mummy Buffy 24 hours a day."

"I could have done something!"

Spike took the cigarette out of him mouth and looked her seriously in the eyes. "Buffy, Willow was already waist deep in the black arts before you came back. Bringing you home wasn’t the lightest of spells and for her to do that, she had already made the decision that she was gonna muss up the fates a bit. There was no stopping her."

Buffy could see by his expression that it was true. She frowned slightly, then sighed. "It’s not only that," she pointed out. "I’ve been neglecting my slayer duties too."

"So cause you’re Slayer, you don’t get to have a private life?" Spike cautiously avoided the words ‘love life’, knowing that she wasn’t quite ready for that.

"Well, no, I mean, yes! But . . ."

Spike sighed. "Fine Slayer. If you want me to stay away from you, just say so." By this time, she was already back in his arms, her back against his chest.

"I want you to stay away from me."

Spike smiled slightly at the inconsistency of her words with her actions. "Really?" he asked, restraining the tone of sarcasm.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Y-yes."

He chuckled and turned to face her. "Look, pet, I know all your games. If you say ‘no’ you usually run willy-nilly away from me to show you mean it. So lemme ask again. Do you want me to stay away from you?"

Her lips curled as her defenses weakened, then crumbled. "No," she admitted. "Although I want to want you to stay away."

He smiled. "Don’t we all." Sighing, she settled back into his arms.

"Well Operation Stay-Away-From-Bloodsucking-Fiend blew up in my face in no time flat," Buffy mumbled grumpily.

"Can’t get enough me, can you luv?"

"Spike?" She had already strayed from his egoistic victory dances he was doing for having won this battle.

"Yeah?"

"What about Willow?"

He sighed, and gathered her into his arms tighter. "We’ll figure something out. I promise."

And hearing him say it made Buffy believe it was true. Besides, when had he ever broken a promise to her? There was also a tone in his voice that totally affirmed that not only was he being honest, but that it would happen. She couldn’t but help smile slightly, then wrinkle her nose as she yawned. Being near Spike always made Buffy feel safe, and consequently, sleepy.

"Sleep," he urged her, still holding her tight. She nodded and felt her lids grow heavy and waver as they finally closed. As she finally feel into sleep, a small catch of air between her lips, blowing onto his chest, Spike stared down at her and lost himself in thought. To watch her like this made for his happiest moments and his most reflective as well. The way her thick lashes rested upon the slight curve of her cheek allowed Spike to feel the world grow still and quiet. As he noted the slight rise and fall of her chest, he thought of the solution he promised her. For the one of the first times in his unexistence, he was truly scared. Scared that this would change everything between them, that having him back would push Spike out where he started. And to do without this, the way a slight crinkle formed between her eyes to show she was dreaming, or the slight smile that still settled on her still lips, he was terrified that it would all go away with this painful, but necessary solution.

Next