Chapter 24


Joyce was anxious. She sat waiting in the food court at the mall for Spike to show up again, knowing that while she was the one that had pushed for them to go ahead and carry out the plan that night, she herself felt nowhere near ready.

Her fingers drummed incessantly against the sticky counter top of the table at which she was sitting. The untouched plate of food that she had bought for lunch had been pushed into the centre of the table to slowly turn cold. This is for Buffy. You can do it for your baby girl.

She tried to ignore the way her stomach rolled in nerves, the way her hands grew cold and clammy and her eyes couldn’t settle on one object for too long. Stop it. You are a grown woman and have done nothing wrong. Spike is the one stealing the phone.

Joyce suppressed the small nervous and slightly hysterical giggle that threatened to bubble from her lips and wiped her hands over her face in an effort to calm herself before her eyes once more went back to surveying her surroundings.

The flash of white-blonde hair caught her eye in the distance as the crowd parted and she felt warm prickles break out over her skin.

Swallowing deeply, Joyce watched as Spike strode confidently towards her, his posture casual and relaxed as if this were the sort of thing he did on a daily basis. That’s probably because he practically does. He’s been doing stuff like this for over a century. Whatever the reason, he didn’t look like someone who had just stolen a phone.

For a brief almost fleeting moment she had the wonderful though that maybe he hadn’t done it and that they would have to make do with using one of their own phones, despite the fact that they knew the Council had them bugged and would be on to their whole set up faster than ants on a cupcake. That thought was quickly discarded as Spike smiled and sat down opposite her.

“’lo Joyce.” She managed a nervous smile but couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth. He smiled gently at her. “Relax ducks, it’s all fine. Nothing went wrong and the lass probably won’t realise her phone’s gone until she gets home anyway.”

Joyce watched uncomfortably as he casually picked up the fork and began eating her untouched lunch. She was itching to get out of the store and away from the crime to which she felt she was an accomplice.

“I can’t see why we can’t just use a payphone,” she finally blurted out as her nerves finally got the better of her, knowing the answer to that already. The call needed to be made from the general area and any of the phones and surrounding payphones were being monitored by the Council.

Spike smiled at her and pushed himself up from the table, leaving the now empty plate and fork to remain on the table. Joyce sighed at his understanding look and stood up, picking up her bag as she went.

“For Buffy,” she said softly to herself as she tried to walk out of the food court without looking too guilty as they passed mall security.

“For Buffy,” Spike agreed.

***

Xander sat crouched in the bushes, ten feet away from the apartment complex that held Buffy, waiting for the hands on his watch to tick over to the hour. Ten more minutes to go. Ten minutes until their plan was put into action. Fifteen minutes until Joyce made the call to the local authorities.

Xander reached up and fingered the pendant that sat around his neck. It was simple enough—a rune carved into a small rock that had been smoothed and shaped so it was a flat, circular disc. It had been secured around his neck by a thin leather strap.

A small nick had been made on his index finger and his blood rubbed into the carving while Giles had muttered some ancient words of another language under his breath. For a few seconds afterwards, it had glowed brilliantly before fading once again and leaving the pendant warm.

So long as it stayed warm and wasn’t removed from his neck, he would be protected against being detected by any security measures the building would have and from the prying eyes of neighbours that might report him to the local police.

He looked down at his watch again. Seven minutes to go. Picking up the canisters of fuel from beside him, he crept out from the bushes slowly.

A quick locator spell had been performed over a map of the complex to ascertain whether Buffy was indeed in there and exactly where she was being held, as well as to see what parts of the building weren’t being used. This section of the building was deserted and therefore their target spot for the decoy that would get them into the building while remaining free of human casualties.

Xander crept up to the side of the building and peered in one of the lower windows. “All clear,” he muttered to himself as he drew back his elbow and sent it careening into the glass. He cursed silently when it impacted but didn’t shatter.

He paused and waited to see if anyone had heard the thump before drawing his arm back and hitting it again. He startled at the amount of noise it made as it shattered and he stopped again as he waited to see if anyone inside had noticed.

He checked his watch again. Five minutes till the hour.

Taking a deep breath he punched out the rest of the shards of glass that had remained stuck in the frame. Reaching down beside him, he picked up one of the fuel canisters and let it drop inside before pulling himself in as well.

The room he had entered was small and clearly a bedroom though it showed no signs of being lived in. Xander let out a sign of relief and quickly crossed to shut the door before running a small amount of the fuel down its wood and onto the carpet in front of it.

Looking around quickly he spied the bed cover and pulled it off spreading it across the floor and dousing it with the petrol. He did the same with the sheets on the bed, leaving one to hang out the window slightly before he emptied the rest of the canister into the room and climbed out the window again.

The second canister was sitting on the ground where he had left it and he made quick work of drenching the outside of the building with its contents.

One minute to go.

He walked back over to the bushes and pulled out the flame thrower he had stolen only a few hours before from the only army base they had in Sunnydale. He donned the pack and took a deep breath before glancing down at his watch one last time.

Six o’clock, half an hour till sunset.

Taking aim at the fuel drenched building, Xander pulled the trigger and let out a burst of flames.

The fuel ignited immediately with a whoosh that had him stumbling backwards to shield his eyes. He stayed long enough to make sure that it was well lit before quickly taking off down the street at a run after dumping the flame thrower in a previously agreed upon location.

The others, minus Joyce and Willow, were waiting in Joyce’s jeep just a few blocks down the street and Xander closed his eyes in relief as he saw them and gave them the signal that his job had been done. The vehicle pulled out from the curb a few minutes later and drove off in the direction from which he had come, as he set off back for the house on Revello drive.

***

Joyce looked at her watch. She was seated in Giles car a block away from where Buffy was being kept. It was five minutes past six, and Joyce pulled out the stolen mobile phone.

Dialling the emergency number she held the phone to her ear.

“Hello? I need help! I have to report a fire!” she said in a panicked voice that wasn’t entirely faked. “An apartment complex is on fire on the corner of…”

***

Willow sat in front of her computer in the Summers’ living room. The clock which has previously been hanging on the wall had been removed and was presently sitting on the table directly next to her lap top as she nervously waited for her time to come.

Five minutes past six o’clock. Joyce had made the phone call.

Willow chewed her lip nervously as she glanced at her computer. It would take Sunnydale’s finest roughly ten minutes to get to the fire. That left her six minutes until she set off the alarm inside the building.

Of all the people they knew who were inside, it was Travers and Hank that they had to be most wary of. They couldn’t be made aware that anything was amiss until the last minute. If they were to put the fire out magically before the authorities arrived, all hope of rescuing Buffy could be ruined. So Willow sat and waited for the clock to show the time to be eleven minutes past six.

Already, the others would be preparing to enter through the back where the fading sun was in no danger of dusting Spike and their easiest point of entry lay. For once, Willow wished she was there with them instead of sitting alone in a house waiting to set off an alarm that would create bedlam within the complex. It was unnaturally quiet except for the steady ticking of the clock that lay on the desk before her.

Xander will be here soon, she thought as she glanced to the centre of the room where the furniture had been cleared and a circle had been marked out with the blood of a lamb. Xander would be coming home to get married to Buffy. If they can get her out a small part of her mind spoke.

She glanced at the clock again. It was eleven minutes past six. Showtime.

Willow put her hands to the keyboard of her computer and began typing in the commands that would set off the alarms inside the apartment complex.

Her task finished, she sat back in her seat and put her hands over her face just as the front door opened and Xander stepped in. They looked at one another and nodded.

“Everything running smoothly?” he asked in a dull, worried voice.

She nodded.

“Everything is right on time.”

***

Buffy lay sedately on her cot as the door to her cage was opened and she was dragged out from inside. She felt so weak—weak and cold. Her flesh felt like it was covered in goose bumps and her eyelids felt too heavy to even bother opening, so she let whoever had her carry her to wherever she was going.

Her tongue ran across her teeth as she swallowed and she was vaguely surprised to find she was in her demon visage as her tongue was nicked on one of her small fangs. Her own blood pooled in her mouth and she groaned as her stomach protested in hunger.

The trip was short and she soon found herself being lowered onto the ground.

“She looks unwell.” Buffy vaguely heard someone say from above her head. The voice sounded familiar and she fought to open her eyes to see who it was.

“It is just a side effect of what I have been feeding her,” another voice answered. Her father. “Better that she is in this state where she is unable to escape than fighting us every step of the way.”

Her body shuddered in protest as everything suddenly came rushing back to her. Her father and Travers. What they were going to do. NO! her mind shouted, even as her body could find no more strength than to utter a small groan.

“Very well,” Travers spoke before there was a short pause in which nobody spoke, and then “do you smell something burning?”

There was another small pause in which he presumably sniffed the air. “The kitchen staff has probably burnt dinner again,” Hank replied in an off-handed voice. “Go ahead and enter the circle with her. Nobody else needs to be present for this besides the three of us.”

Buffy wanted to cry out in protest about what was about to happen, yet she was powerless to stop it. Why am I so weak? What have they done to me? Tears of fear and frustration welled under her closed eyelids and slid down her face.

She heard her father chuckle till his voice was just above her right ear. “Are you ready to become Mrs. Buffy Travers, daughter?”

Oh god, please help me! she screamed mentally, as she tried once more to open her eyes or move her body from the prone position she was stretched out in along the floor. She managed to crack her eyes open enough to glare at him. Her father chuckled at her and walked around to the other side of the circle.

Oh please! Anything! As if answering her prayers, an alarm suddenly went off in the building and the sprinklers in the ceiling began to let out streams of icy cold water.

Her body jerked in surprised at the temperature change and she listened to her father and Travers complaining and questioning each other angrily.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hank yelled as the water broke out. He could hear the sound of sirens in the distance over the wailing of the alarm. “It’s the fire alarm!”

Travers swore under his breath as he looked across the circle at the prone figure of the girl that would be the catalyst for his growth into the power for which he had been destined. A power he wasn’t about to let slip from his grasp.

He was so close.

“Keep going,” he ground out as he levelled his hard gaze on Buffy’s figure. “It will be put out, get on with it!”

For a second, Hank looked as if he were about to refuse, instead he turned back so he was facing the circle and opened his arms as he began to chant.

Inside Buffy wanted to die. With no strength left within her to defend herself, there was no possible hope of getting out of this situation. She heard the melodic sounds of her father’s voice as he chanted out the ritual and she felt the first pulse of magic wash over her.

Chapter 25


Spike growled loudly, shoving his way through the panicking humans that cluttered the hall. He could feel Buffy. Her presence was all around him, teasing him with its closeness yet eluding him when he tried to reach out for her. He couldn’t make out whether she was conscious or hurt and his demon raged beneath his skin to be let out and help its subconsciously chosen mate.

The entire upper floor stunk of magicks. The air was thick with it and without even extending his senses, Spike could tell that the Council had bumped up their schedule and the ritual had begun a night early.

The thought of Buffy being bound to anyone was enough to make Spike’s demon howl with fury, but the idea that she might be bound to someone within the Council ranks so that her power could be abused and used as nothing more than a weapon for their use…

He let the faint sounds of chanting and the thick stench of magicks guide him down the corridor as he concentrated on picking up some trace of her presence. The presence of the Watcher and her friends behind him went practically unnoticed as Spike finally came to stand in front of the door that he knew would lead him to her.

He reached down and tested the door handle—locked. So much for the element of surprise, he thought as he drew back his leg and kicked the door in, tearing it right off its hinges in the process.

His eyes immediately sought the familiarity of her form, looking for reassurance, for solid proof that she was alright. When they landed on her he felt for a moment like the floor had dropped out from beneath him, a jolt of unpleasant tingles pulsed once in his stomach, leaving him with a nauseated feeling as he gazed at her.

Buffy looked dead. Her skin that had once held a golden brown tan was so white that it almost looked blue, and her lips were void of any of their natural rose colour and instead they appeared as translucent as her skin. Her hair was limp, her eyes closed and her skin looked as if it had been stretched across her bones. She looked starved and weak as she lay motionless, completely helpless to what was going on around her.

Spike swallowed heavily and for a split second was frozen in place, unable to help her. Waves of fear threatened to bubble over and fully incapacitate him, but soon he was moving across the room in a blur to get to her.

His demon burst onto his face with a snarl that was equal parts enraged at what he saw and happy at finally being given control.

Without thinking, Spike threw himself at the bastard that could claim parental status over the Slayer, moving quickly to avoid being caught off guard and restrained as he had been when Hank had first taken Buffy.

Hank pulled himself out of the haze of his trance a moment too late to stop the fist aimed at his head from connecting with its target. The blow was brutal, a loud crack emanating through the air as the warlock fell to the ground with a dislocated jaw bone.

Hank moaned in pain as his hand came up to cup his face. His eyes were wide and held a fear in them he had never felt before as he looked up at a demon that he had left for dead and now was defenceless against—unable to chant, unable to whisper an incantation that would see him through this alive.

“You deserve a lot worse that what you’re going to get. But fortunately for you mate, I’m running on a schedule.” A booted foot was slammed down across Hank’s face hard enough to knock him out but not kill him.

Spike’s demon howled miserably from within, wanting to finish the job, but Spike turned away. As much as he wanted to drain the bastard dry, Buffy needed him and Spike wasn’t certain that she had as much time as it would take for him to finish the job properly.

Spike’s eyes fell on Travers as he turned to face the circle once more. The man was on his hands and knees halfway across the circle when he realised he was being watched. A sudden realisation burst into the fore of Spike’s mind upon seeing him and with it an almost overwhelming feeling of sickness as he took in the state of the man.

Sweat was beading across his forehead and dribbling down the side of his face with the exertion that was forced on his body as he became a conduit for the magicks being wielded. He was clad only in black silk pyjama bottoms and intricate designs had been painted in a thin strip down the centre of his chest. There was no random Council lackey to be bound to his Slayer. It was the head honcho himself.

A small snarl curled at Spike’s lips as he began making his way towards Travers.

“You sick bastard!” His voice was low and dangerous. Travers barely flinched though as he returned the vampires glare with his own steely gaze.

Travers slowly pushed himself to his feet within the circle so he could stare directly back at the vampire in a manner that had helped gain him the position as Head of the Watchers’ Council. If there was one thing Quentin knew he was good at it was intimidation.

“I, ah, wouldn’t be doing that if I were you.” The Watcher spoke up as Spike moved to take a step inside the circle. Quentin’s voice was only slightly out of breath as he continued to combat the magicks that were pulsing through his system. There was no way he could even entertain the thought of taking the vampire in a fight in this state and he knew it, not to mention he didn’t have a stake anywhere on his person.

Spike paused and raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

“The ritual has begun and there is nothing you can do to stop it. One step inside this circle and you could risk killing us both,” Travers answered motioning to the inert form of the Slayer at his side.

Spike stopped abruptly at the edge of the circle just as he had been about to take a step in and let his eyes flick to the Slayer. “You’re bluffing.”

Quentin let a slow smirk slide onto his features. “Are you prepared to find out?”

Spike looked unsure. His instincts told him it was a bluff, but Buffy’s life hung in the balance so he remained hesitant.

“Yes, wouldn’t want to hurt your precious Slayer now would you? Hank told me all about you. William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers… willingly siding with the Slayer? Somehow that reality doesn’t fit the image I had of you.” Spike shrugged and remained unaffected by the goad as he took up a casual stance despite his tense state.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said offhandedly in response.

“I never said I was disappointed.” A tense silence settled over them following that statement. Spike’s eyes strayed to the Slayer once more wondering whether it was his imagination or whether she seemed to be getting bluer.

“So, how do you intend to finish your ritual, now? You seem to be one man down,” Spike noted, tossing his head in the direction of Hank’s unconscious form, aware that his time was rapidly running out.

Travers looked over Spike’s shoulder casually and shrugged. “He has played his part. The rest of the ritual can be done without his input. His chanting would have only emphasised the passing of magicks during the…act.” Travers grinned at him.

Spike snarled and went to take a step forward before looking down once more at the ring of dried blood marking the carpet.

“Wouldn’t want to do anything rash now would you, William?” Travers provoked as he walked casually across to the slayer and knelt down beside her as he ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “She really is very beautiful. If not a bit strong willed though, perhaps I can break her of the habit. After all, we will have all of eternity.”

Spike growled again and looked between Travers and the ring of dried blood. He could feel the magicks crackling in the air all around him. The Watcher’s heart was rapidly increasing in pace and his breathing was becoming laboured. His eyes drifted to Buffy’s motionless form once more and Spike made his decision.

“You know what, mate? I think you’re full of shit,” Spike retorted as he deliberately picked up one foot and stepped into the circle. Nothing happened.

***

“No!” Giles got as far as mouthing the word as he burst into the room in time to see Spike step into the circle. To his great shock, however—which was quickly followed by a rapid sinking feeling—nothing happened. Neither Quentin nor Buffy—as far as he could discern—were harmed in any way.

His stomach sunk even lower when he took note of the fact that Quentin’s upper body had been tattooed in an intricate design which would allow him to be the conduit for the magicks being wielded—markings that would allow him to override Buffy’s consent so that he might bind himself to her without opposition.

Giles watched, unable to bring himself to care as he witnessed Spike beat the man senseless. The Watcher turned to the two teens that had arrived behind him.

“Tie Buffy’s father up,” he said, pointing to the man passed out on the floor a few feet away.

“If you think for one second that I would allow something like you—” Giles watched on as Spike paused mid speech to send two closed fist punches across Quentin’s face in rapid succession, “—to lay even one hand on Buffy, you are sorely mistaken.”

Giles tried to stop himself from thinking about the significance of the fact that Spike had been able to enter the ritual circle without causing harm to those already within, as he watched Spike throw Travers out of the circle and head first into the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Spike was by the Slayer’s side within seconds and it was in that moment the Giles realised with some measure of clarity that despite what he wanted, and what they had planned, a decision regarding his Slayer’s binding had been made.

***

Spike gently scooped Buffy up into his arms, wincing slightly as her head flopped lifelessly into the crook of his arm. She felt so cold, even against his own cool skin, which was only room temperature at best.

He narrowed his eyes affectionately on her as he pushed her limp hair out of her face gently. “Come on, kitten. Show me those pretty eyes of yours.”

He frowned when he got no response from her. His eyes searched her face looking for any sign that she had heard what he said but found none. Slowly bringing his wrist up to his mouth morphed into his demon’s guise and bit down so that his blood blossomed and began to flow freely from the wound.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered softly as he lowered his bleeding wrist to her mouth. “Show me you’ll be alright.”

He waited a beat. Two beats.

Then he felt the sluggish swipe of her tongue against his skin as she parted her lips to allow the blood entry into her mouth. Relieved, Spike released the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, as she slowly started to drink from the wound.

“There’s my good girl,” he whispered more to himself than anyone else, as his free hand soothingly stroked her hair from her face.

He almost moaned out loud when he felt the sharp sting of her fangs entering his wrist, quickly followed by the pleasure that always came with a bite that was becoming more and more familiar. The shock of it cause him to let out a soft rumbling purr as he turned his gaze back towards hers to find her eyes open and staring at him intently.

“Hey there,” he said softly. She held his gaze for a moment longer before moaning as she shut her eyes, the borrowed blood beginning to slowly bring her body ‘back to life’.

A weak little hand came up to hold his wrist to her mouth and Spike broke out in a smile knowing that it was a sign—at least for him—that she would be able to make a full recovery.

“Spike,” she said softly as she let go.

“Shh, kitten,” he said as he ran the pad of his thumb down the curve of her cheek and across her lips, swiping up the small crimson stain she’d left.

“Don’t ‘shh’ me,” she said with a hint of her usual spunk making its way back in her voice. Spike grinned down at her.

“Why, is there another way you would prefer me to shut you up?” he asked with a playful leer.

“Maybe,” she replied as she drew his head down to her own.

Chapter 26


Spike’s lips lowered to meet Buffy’s without resistance. They touched hesitantly at first, nudging as if to test, before his firm cool lips finally settled over hers.

The kiss stayed gentle and chaste in a slow slanting of lips across the others’ mouth. But it held a promise that was echoed in their eyes as they drew back from one another.

Buffy’s eyes fell shut as Spike lifted his hand slowly to run it down the side of her face again, sweeping her hair back and behind her ear with a soft smile.

“I’m okay,” Buffy mumbled, as if to herself. Her eyes drifted open and locked with the blue of the vampire’s holding her securely in his arms as she looked up at him with shimmering eyes. “You came for me.”

Her smile was watery and Spike returned it with one of his own. “I came.”

Looking up, Spike noted the fact that the Watcher had both older men tied up and gagged before he looked back down at the Slayer in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Spike looked down at her with a frown at the quietly spoken apology.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, pet.”

Buffy shook her head gently, squeezing her eyes shut again at the pain that lanced through her with that small movement. “I should’ve…but he was…and I didn’t…I just couldn’t…”

“It’s okay, I understand. But you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You did what you thought was best to ensure the safety of those that you care about. Never apologize for that,” he said, smiling when she nodded gently. “Time to get you home, pet.”

He hoisted her up into his arms as gently as possible—one arm under the bend in her knees and the other under her back as her head came to rest on his shoulder. He stood slowly, careful of the bundle in his arms, before stepping out of the ritual circle with her.

Everyone in the room watched as it glowed faintly for a moment before disappearing completely.

***

The living room was silent as its three occupants sat lost in their own thoughts. If the plan was a success, Buffy would soon be safely back in their midst. Only once she was returned, someone would need to inform her of the fact that she was then going to be married off to Xander Harris—and Joyce knew that someone would have to be her.

Joyce sighed. Xander was their only option after all, yet looking at him absently stuff corn chips down his throat, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was a better option. Because you have so many of those. Don’t be stupid, Joyce

At least with Xander, Joyce knew that her daughter held some affection for him—and he for her in return—even if it was only the kind one felt for a friend. Given the chance, it could blossom into love one day… hopefully.

Countless scenarios had been playing out in her mind of her daughter being bound to some brainless lackey that the Council controlled. Where she was locked up and used only as a power source for their needs. No, she thought as she shook her head softly, better that she is married to Xander than the Council.

Still, even with these thoughts running through her head, Joyce couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied with the idea of her only daughter being married to Xander. The boy was certainly nice enough—if not a little close minded, bigoted and lacking in table manners—but Buffy held a fire that he couldn’t even begin to match.

Match. That was what was bothering her. Xander was most certainly not Buffy’s match.

He was not her equal in any sense of the word. Where she was brave, he was cowardly. Where she held warmth of fire and passion, he was lukewarm at best. She was a supernatural creature that would live forever, Xander was most certainly not.

Joyce highly doubted that the prophecy had been written about Buffy and Xander. It just didn’t fit, and the more she thought about it the less sense it made.

Joyce could imagine their life together in a few years’ time. Xander—belly-up on the couch like some beached whale—overweight from lack of exercise and too much junk food, and drinking at one o’clock in the afternoon—with a beautiful wife who looked as young as the day he married her.

Rationally, Joyce knew that it probably wouldn’t end up like that between them—not with Xander’s parents being alcoholics—but, she glanced over at him, where he was on his second packet of chips from her cupboard and barely stopping to breathe as he practically inhaled them. She could no more help the wrinkling of her nose at the sight than she could stop a sneeze.

If she could have any say in it, Xander would remain nothing more than a close friend. But the ritual needed to be completed if her daughter was to live, and Xander appeared to be the only viable candidate. Therefore, he would be married to Buffy—and likely before sunrise that morning.

Joyce was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway, and she felt a burst of nervous butterflies in her stomach. Joyce watched as Xander and Willow perked up at the sound and she got up as they all quickly made their way over to the door.

***

A horrified gasp rang through out the night as the door was opened in front of them. Joyce stood temporarily paralysed to the spot at the sight of her daughter’s less than stellar condition.

“Let me through, Joyce, I need to get the Slayer up to her bedroom.” Joyce stepped back immediately at the softly spoken request from the vampire. Spike wasted no time in stepping over the threshold and disappearing up the stairs with Buffy in his arms.

Joyce turned back to watch as Giles made his way through the door with a still-unconscious Travers slung over his shoulder.

“Wha—?” Joyce began, only to stop as Giles’ entrance was immediately followed by that of Oz and Cordelia, dragging in the form of her ex-husband. “Oh my God! Are they dead?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Buffy’s mother turned confused eyes toward the Watcher in question.

“Unfortunately?” she squeaked out.

“Oh thank GOD!” Cordelia interrupted as she dropped Hank’s legs the minute she stepped inside the door. “Do any of you realise how heavy that guy is? I’m going to get man muscles in my arms if I carry him any longer!”

The small group watched as she flounced out of the room to dramatically flop down on the couch.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Giles supplied, when all except Oz looked back at him for answers, “but first we need to tie these two up in the basement before they come to.”

***

Spike let the voices coming from the others downstairs fade into the background as he made his way up the stairs, kicking open the door to Buffy’s room. It was the first time he had entered it and as he looked around at the things with which she surrounded herself, he decided that it told him absolutely nothing about the girl that he held in his arms.

The room was the room of Buffy Summers the girl, not the Slayer. This was the room of the face she presented to everyone—a normal 17-year-old girl on the cusp of becoming a woman. There were hints of the child she had been in the few toys that were still randomly dispersed throughout the room, posters of her favourite bands stuck up on the wall, and a large double bed with virginal white sheets still stretched out across the mattress. But it was as if time had stood still once she had been called.

If Spike looked closely though, he could see hints of the Slayer he knew her to be. The multitudes of crosses hanging from her dressing table, the small bottle on her nightstand that he knew didn’t contain plain water, but rather holy water meant to be used against his kind, the tee shirt thrown into the corner of the room that was stained with traces of her blood. Those items belonged to the Slayer.

Crossing the room quickly, Spike laid Buffy out on the bed trying not to jostle her any more than necessary, and slowly peeled off his duster that he had wrapped around her small frame to try and bring some warmth back into her overly cold skin.

“There you go, sweetheart.” She made a small murmuring sound in response as he brushed a light kiss over her forehead.

“Stay,” she mumbled softly. He smiled and ran his hand down the side of her cheek.

“I’ll be right back, kitten. I need to go get some blood.” He hovered over her for a minute longer as he watched her fall back into the limbo between consciousness and oblivion.

Sighing, Spike took a step back and turned to see Joyce standing in the doorway to the Slayer’s room. Her hand was covering her mouth in shock as she gazed at her little girl stretched out on the bed and looking to all the world as if she were dead.

“Joyce?” Spike called softly, trying not to startle her out of the dazed state into which she seemed to have fallen. She didn’t respond to him, unable to tear her eyes away from her daughter’s body and the clothing that usually fit her curves snugly now hanging loosely around her body.

“Joyce?” This time she turned to look at him with horror in her eyes as he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It looks a lot worse than it is. I’ll have her right as rain in no time.”

“She…she looks…” She didn’t seem to be able to finish the thought that she was forming as her eyes were pulled back to her daughter. Spike frowned and gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

“Why don’t you sit with her while I nick down to the kitchen and pick up some blood packets, yeah? She floats in and out, but once I get some blood into her she’ll be more alert.” The woman nodded and moved further into the room.

Spike hesitated in the doorway for a moment, unwilling to leave either of the women alone before logic won out and he turned and made his way out the door.

He could hear the hushed tones of the witch and the cheerleader talking in the lounge as he made his way down the stairs and the sound of Giles talking to the other two in the basement as they dealt with the wankers who were responsible for his Slayer’s state.

Spike let out a small growl as he thought about visiting them later. But not now. The Slayer needs you. Despite the circumstances, that thought sent a rush of pleasure through him and brought a reluctant half smile to his lips.

He ground to a halt as he entered the kitchen, finding Xander sitting on the bench rather than down stairs like the others. Spike eyed him warily, his demon snapping and raging within him to deal with the thing that was stopping him from taking the Slayer as his own. The urge to challenge him over his rights was strong but he was well versed when it came to suppressing such urges. If being with Drusilla for over a century had taught him anything, it was control.

Briefly, thoughts of his sire danced across his mind as he wondered where she was now that her daddy was finally dust. Angelus had been everything she lived for; he influenced everything she did and Spike couldn’t imagine Dru being able to live in a world where Angelus no longer existed. In his mind, the most plausible theory was that she had dusted herself after she had felt him disappear; but, Spike knew it not to be true for he still felt the deep-seated connection he held with her through the childe/sire bond.

“How is she?” Spike was pulled from his musings as the whelp addressed him and once more he had to fight down the urge to slip into his demon’s visage. He didn’t know what he had been expecting from the boy, but he hadn’t been expecting the subdued tone that rang through clearly.

“She’ll be fine as soon as I get some blood into her,” he replied tightly as he made his way over to the fridge, his ‘big bad’ persona in full swing.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy just nodded solemnly, looking down at the hands that rested in his lap. “So, how do you feel knowing it’s you?” he asked finally.

Spike frowned and turned to look at him. “It’s me?”

“Yeah, what with being able to step into the circle and all.” The boy wasn’t making sense—of that much Spike was sure—but he had the feeling that he needed to hear what was being said.

“I tried to tell Giles originally that you guys felt something for one another, but he turned into Mr. Denial Man and told me to shut up. Guess he can’t ignore this, though.”

“Ignore what, exactly?” Spike asked as he absentmindedly closed the fridge.

Xander looked up at him and frowned. “You don’t know?”

“Would I ask if I bloody well did?” Xander grew silent suddenly and couldn’t meet the vampire’s eyes. “Whelp?”

“The prophecy. It’s talking about you. You’re the one that is supposed to be bound to Buffy. Not me”

Chapter 27


Spike paused outside the Slayer’s room and took a deep breath to calm his suddenly frazzled nerves. Unexpectedly, what had seemed impossible only a few minutes ago was becoming reality—he was the one that was getting married to the Slayer.

It was what he wanted. It was what the demon wanted. He just didn’t know if it was what Buffy wanted. The possibility of rejection loomed, and Spike didn’t know if his heart—still the heart of a poet and romantic—could withstand being rejected once again.

If anything, the Slayer was one who liked to have as much control as possible over the events which occurred in her life because of the fact that she had no control over those related to her calling. Being told that she had to marry someone was enough to make her balk on its own. Add him into the mix…

The conversation with Xander was replaying in his head as he tried to force himself to come to terms with what the boy had told him.


“You’re sure?” Spike couldn’t help but ask again, the tone of disbelief more than evident in his voice as he stared at the whelp suspiciously.

“I got it from Book Man himself,” Xander promised. “Apparently you being able to enter the circle without killing Buffy or Travers is significant somehow in Giles-speak, I didn’t really catch the particulars.”

“So he wasn’t bluffing,” Spike seemed to speak to himself.

“Who? Giles?” Xander asked suddenly lost on who they were talking about.

“Never mind,” Spike said after a beat. Swiping the packets of blood off the bench he let his usual cocky mask slip effortlessly over his features. “I have a Slayer to feed,” he said as he turned and swept out of the room just as the basement door opened and Giles stepped through.

“Was that Spike?” the blonde heard his fellow Brit ask even as he made his way up the stairs, his feet carrying him quickly away from the kitchen.


Spike shut his eyes against the fact that he had run away from the Watcher and the questions that he knew he would have to face eventually. He needed time. He had to process what he had just heard and prepare himself for the rejection that was more than likely to occur when the Slayer found out she had to get married.

Knocking lightly on her bedroom door, he was surprised when he opened it to find the Slayer’s eyes open and alert. Joyce was sitting on the edge of the bed and gave her daughter’s hand a small squeeze as Spike walked in before getting up and moving out of the room.

Spike watched her leave, only turning to the girl before him once the door had closed and Joyce was no longer left in sight.

“Hey,” he said softly as he came to take up the position her mother had just vacated.

“Hey,” she said softly in return. He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes as he placed two of the blood bags on her bedside table as he drained the third quickly.

“Here,” he said, holding his wrist out to her.

Buffy looked for a moment as if she were about to say something, a question already poised on her lips, but she swallowed the impulse. Grasping the proffered wrist in her cold hands she lowered it to her mouth, her lips skimming over the vacant pulse point gently before her tongue swept out and followed its path.

Spike fought the urge to let his eyes roll up into the back of his head as he let out a breathy moan. She was being overly sensual by letting her lips run across his skin in the barest of caresses and he had to wonder what she was up to.

Finally settling her mouth over the place she wanted, she slipped into her demon features.

Spike felt her change run through him and he opened his eyes to look at her when the expected bite didn’t come. The moment her eyes locked with his, she bit down on his wrist letting the rich blood spill into her mouth and slide down her throat.

A hoarse groan was pulled from his throat at the sensation and his eyes slammed shut in pleasure.

Buffy never let her eyes leave his face as she watched the myriad of emotions settle over it. Knowing that she could bring him such pleasure with nothing but her bite made her feel feminine and powerful and she relished the feel of it.

Spike blindly reached for another blood bag and tore into it as Buffy continued to drink from him. Little whimpers emanated from his throat that he couldn’t control, nothing beat the feel of her teeth lodged deep within him, drawing life from his death.

He let her drink for as long as possible, draining the final blood bag much the same as he had the second until he felt that she had consumed as much as he could give her without growing weak himself.

He let out a soft growl, warning her to pull back and was amazed when she did so reverently, swiping her tongue over her mark before leaving a soft kiss on top of it.

He opened his eyes to gaze at her through a haze of lust and love as she pulled herself into a sitting position. The blue slowly fading from her skin as his blood went to work on her body, bringing her back to life before him as it lent her the strength she needed to recover.

“Better?” He asked in an embarrassingly breathy voice as he fought to reign in his rampant desire for her and the erection that was straining painfully against the material of his jeans.

“Did you know?” she asked, simply ignoring his question completely.

Buffy smiled softly when he tilted his head at her in a silent request to elaborate.

“Did you know about the…hand fasting? With Xander?”

Spike swallowed as he looked away from her frank expression. To tell her or not to tell her? Did he want her to reject him now or later? Did he even believe what the whelp had told him?

“Yes,” he said finally as be brought his eyes up to hers again. “The ritual—if you don’t do it you could die, pet.”

Buffy began to worry her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked down at his hand, which was resting on the doona covering her legs.

“If I had a choice—,” she began, slowly bringing her eyes up to meet his again, “if I had a choice it would have been you.”

Spike’s eyes widened in shock at her confession, before narrowing affectionately on her “Buffy—”

“I know how you feel about Dru, and that you don’t see me in that way, but I still would’ve wanted it to be you.” His mouth curved up in a small smile as he brushed her hair out of her face.

In that moment she reminded him very much of the 17-year-old girl she was underneath it all. Her innocent confession was touching and he found it lending him the courage to reassure her that it was what he wanted as well.

“Dru’s not part of my life anymore, kitten,” he said as he leaned down to press his lips gently to hers. “I would have wanted it to be me, too.”

And with any luck, he thought as she responded to his kiss, her lips meeting his in rushed desperation to feel as much of him as she could,what the whelp said will be true and it will be me.

***

“Joyce, do you have a moment?” Joyce nodded and let herself be led into the dining room away from the rest of the occupants in house.

“What is it?” she asked as she pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.

“It’s about the ritual. I’m afraid Xander can’t be the one to take part in it.” Her eyes went wide as she took in what Giles was saying before they narrowed on him suspiciously.

“I hope you’re not insinuating what I think you are. Apart from Xander, Mr. Giles, you are the only other option we have on our list.”

If she hadn’t been so serious, the way Giles recoiled from her would have almost been comical.

“Good god, woman! No!” he said as he practically tore his glasses off his face in his rush to polish them, dropping them in the process. “To even think such a thing is unspeakable! Buffy is like a daughter to me, to even consider her in that manner—”

“As long as we understand each other.” Giles’ eyes snapped to Joyce’s, and he felt a shiver pass down his spine at the dangerous look she held in her eyes. It spoke of a world of pain and he couldn’t help but feel slightly afraid of her.

“Yes, quite.” An uncomfortable silence seemed to settle between them for a moment as neither spoke a word, unable to move on from what had just been said.

“So, the ritual?” Joyce finally prompted.

“Yes, well as I was saying…If you remember back to our research we did on the ritual, you’ll remember the part stating that no being may enter the circle after the ritual has been started as the it disrupts the flow of magicks and almost always is fatal to the pair being bound.”

Joyce nodded. “Yes, go on.”

“There is an exception to that rule.” He paused and took a deep breath before pulling out the chair beside her so he could sit and bring himself down to her level. “Magick can do a lot of things, both dangerous and wonderful. It can build worlds, fabricate entire memories, form flesh for that which has none, coerce people into believing things or doing things that the wouldn’t otherwise even dream of doing, but the one thing it can fabricate or force is love. True love—the kind that is real, and deep and goes beyond just the surface attraction that most feel.”

He paused to check if she was following, and at her quick nod, he continued.

“When we got to Buffy—or when Spike got there, rather—Hank and Travers had already started the ritual. Travers planned to bind your daughter to himself, and the strip of markings that are drawn on his chest are symbols that hold the power to override certain magicks of the ritual so that Buffy need not have any input for it to be completed.”

“That son of a bitch! I ought to rip his head off and shove it—” She went to push herself away from the table so she could storm down into her basement, but the soft hand on her forearm stayed her movements and she returned herself to her seat to finish listening to what Giles had to say, silently vowing that she would rip the Council head a new one after Giles had explained.

He gave her an empathetic smile as she begrudgingly motioned for him to continue.

“Regardless of that fact, none of us should have been able to enter the ritual circle that had been marked out onto the floor without potentially killing both Buffy and Travers. Spike did though, and that indicates that not only does he feel more than just a simple… affection for your daughter, but she reciprocates those feelings too.” Giles sighed as he placed his glasses on the table and ran his hands over his face tiredly. “Joyce, I cannot in good conscience bind Buffy and Xander together when there is a chance that she will find greater happiness in someone else’s arms—despite the fact that he is a vampire.”

“Oh thank God,” Joyce sighed as she slumped back into her seat and closed her eyes. “Xander’s a good boy but he just isn’t right for Buffy.”

Giles gave her a smile and rested an understanding hand on her shoulder. “I know. And as much as I will vehemently deny this if you breathe a word of it to anyone—Spike is a good match for her. She is more than just a human with super powers now, she is immortal and needs someone who won’t leave her to live out the rest of her days alone after we have all passed on.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Joyce said with a relieved smile.

“Someone will, of course, need to inform them both. Let us hope that they won’t prove stubborn on this point,” Giles remarked, as he stood up from the table once more.

Joyce followed suit, letting out an unladylike snort at his comment. “Buffy not stubborn? Oh look, I think a pig just flew past our window!”

Chapter 28


The first thing that Quentin Travers became aware of was the sticky feeling of blood and sweat as it rolled down the side of his face only to dry half way and leave his skin feeling tight.

He was hot—uncomfortably so—despite the room he was in being quite cool. His body was slick with perspiration and the pressure beneath his skin seemed to pulsate in time with his heartbeat as his body thrummed back into awareness.

Despite the pain in his body, however, it was the realisation to which he came that made his stomach drop with a cold pit of dread.

Travers held no false hopes that the magick his body had been fighting to handle before his impromptu voyage into the land of unconsciousness had left his body. He could feel the energy crackling beneath the layers of his skin, pulsing and growing in its urgent need to find an outlet.

Regardless of his beliefs regarding one William the Bloody, Travers held no misconceptions that the vampire could have known the implications resulting in his actions when he forced Travers to exit the ritual circle. However, the result was no less effective. Without the aide of an outlet to release the magicks trapped within him, Travers knew he was little more than a dead man on borrowed time.

He knew damn well that any hope he had of completing the ritual was gone, and for a grown man—one whom was well into the acceptable age of retirement—he pondered for a moment the absurdity of how the sudden urge to throw a tantrum can overwhelm you at the most obscure times.

He had just come to the unavoidable truth that without help he would likely die in a few hours, yet at that moment he felt like doing nothing more that throwing himself onto the ground and kicking and screaming like a child about the unfairness of it all.

Travers had been planning this for what seemed like his whole adult life after he was accepted into the ranks as a Watcher. Years and years had been spent researching only to come to the realisation that his time would likely come and go before the events foretold in the prophecy could even be put in motion.

To have the dream swept out beneath him after only a few short days of hope that it would be him and it would be completed was beyond cruel in his book.

Who the hell did these people think they were? Did they even read the rest of the prophecy? Did they even know what this girl would bring about? What it would mean for the Council and therefore the greater good of the world? Or did they know and just not care?

He felt the sudden pulse of the magicks still trapped within him strengthen at the same moment a wave of fury washed over him. The effect left him gasping for breath as he slumped back against the post he was tied to like some ritual sacrifice.

He let his eyes move sluggishly across to the man trussed up opposite him.

Hank Summers looked dead—skin flushed white, eyes closed and almost any movement barely nonexistent. If Travers looked closely, though, he could see the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest that told him that though alive, he was still out cold.

Deep purple and blue shading had begun to spread across Hank’s jaw, tinged in areas with a mustard yellow hue. Travers could only imagine what his own face looked like if that was what one punch had accomplished. The vampire had taken great pleasure in hitting him repeatedly before the grand finish that had left him unconscious and sentenced him to a painful death.

Try as he might, Travers couldn’t wrap his head around why the vampire was there at all, why he had aligned himself with the Slayer in the first place. The lack of repercussions from his entrance into the circle told him enough of why he would be interested in preserving her life now, but he could not bring himself to believe that any such feelings had developed before their abnormal truce.

While it was documented that vampires and slayers had worked together in the past, it was usually due to the slayer’s descent into darkness, not the vampire’s ascent into the light.

William the Bloody was certainly an anomaly. One that would have to be studied by someone that was not Travers and not destined to die from the strain that magicks could put on the body if left unchecked too long.
Travers momentarily contemplated trying to escape and finding the first helpless woman he came across and using her body as a means of saving himself. The idea was quickly dismissed. While he had no qualms about the plan itself, he had no doubt that he was currently tied to a post in the Slayer’s basement and therefore knew it would be impossible to even think of making it out of his bindings, let alone the house.

A mirthless chuckle was torn from his lips as he felt another pulse from the trapped magicks echo through his body. How quickly tides could change.

“I see that you are managing to keep your spirits up despite the situation you have landed yourself in.” Travers looked up at the sudden appearance of Rupert Giles standing at the bottom of the basement stairs.

There was little inflection in his voice which would suggest what he was thinking one way or another. Giles’ face was a blank canvas. No expression marked his features, and it was difficult for Travers to know one way or another how the end was going to play out.

“Mr. Giles, so nice to see that your manners are still at the same standard as the were when we last met,” he spat out in a sarcastic voice, feeling the need to get the first word in and prove he wasn’t afraid of one of his own employees.

“Excuse me if I could care less regarding your comfort during your…stay here. Did you expect anything more after what you attempted to do to my Slayer?”

So it would be anger that won out in the end, Travers mused as he blinked away the sweat that had beaded on his forehead and begun to run down into his face and into his eyes, blurring his vision for a moment.

“Your Slayer?” Travers scoffed. “She is the property of the Council, and as Head of the Council it is my prerogative to do with her what I will. I saw an opening which I could use as means of increasing the Council’s power, and I took it. You, Rupert, and your little gang of teenagers having interfered with such a project will be subject to the appropriate punishment—”

“Oh shut up, you pompous wanker.” Irritation flashed over Giles’ features as he ripped his glasses off his face. “I can assure you that once this is over you will no longer be in charge of the Council and therefore your threats as to me or any of Buffy’s friends receiving punishment are idle at best. What you attempted to do was done with no more drive than the desire to expand your own power.”

The steely gaze Travers turned on him did little to shake Giles as he stood firm.

“You may be partly right, as such power was alluring in itself but the prophesized effects her transformation will have on everything you know will be far greater than my rise to power.” Quentin paused for a moment to let that piece of information sink in, knowing that he had just revealed something of which the other man had no knowledge. “It’s not too late to right the mistake though. All that needs to be done to complete the ritual is for you to untie me—.”

The force of the blow snapped his head to the side with such violence that the side of his face seemed to go numb for a minute. Travers coughed as he tried to recover, not surprised to see his blood decorating the floor. He was more than certain it had loosened a few teeth.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t even think of completing that sentence,” Giles’ said coldly as he stepped back from the head Watcher once more.

Despite the pain exploding through the side of his face, Travers managed a chuckle.

“What are you going to do, Rupert? Bind her to one of your children and hope it all works out for the best? Or maybe yourself? You know as well as I do that if the ritual isn’t completed by tonight she won’t last…and if she does she will be the cause of our downfall.”

Giles chose to ignore that with which Travers was trying to bait him. “If you must know, it is neither of the options you just presented. Spike will be the one with whom she completes the ritual.”

“SPIKE! You are binding the Slayer to William the Bloody? The slayer of slayers? Are you insane, man?”

“No more than you, I can assure you.” Travers felt the magicks pulsing and crackling within him as they fought their way through his system to find an outlet. He knew he had to calm himself, less that bring an end to him all together. He gasped for breath as the magick began to expand, rising to stick in his throat, which was growing tighter by the second.

“Oh God,” he managed to gasp out as his body was wracked with contractions as it attempted to overcome the tightening chest pain. “I’m dying, you fool! This is murder if you let me die!” he gasped out through gritted teeth to an apathetic Giles.

“No, it would be suicide. You did this all yourself, Travers. I do believe that the magicks caught in your body are causing you to have some form of heart attack,” Giles said as he calmly drew out his handkerchief and began the familiar routine of polishing his glasses.

Tears streamed down Travers’ face as another squeezing pain gripped his chest. “I wasn’t the one who stepped out of the circle! You are willingly binding your slayer to the vampire responsible for my death and the death of thousands before and after me. Do something!”

“I am.” A look of horror washed over Travers’ face at the amused note he could hear in the other Watcher’s voice. “I’m doing several things actually. I’m cleaning my glasses, and I’m also trying to remember if I finished all the brandy in the decanter upstairs—,” he paused and held his glasses up to the light to check for any dirt on the lenses before placing them back onto his face. “I’m contemplating what could have possessed you to ever think you could come after my slayer and get away with it. But above all, I’m doing my job. I’m watching.”

His smile was cold and unforgiving and it was in that moment that Travers realised that he was going to die and Giles would do nothing but stand there and watch.

***

Xander watched from the door way as Cordelia chatted animatedly with Willow on the couch. A week ago Willow and Cordy had avoided each other like the plague. Now, after spending a week together in forced company, the girls seemed to have formed a bond that had brought them closer together, possibly even made them friends.

“Cordy?” The smile she was wearing when she looked at him made his breath hitch and for the first time since Giles had informed him that it would be Spike to whom Buffy would be bound, Xander felt the feeling of inadequacy leave him.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t ‘special’ anymore. When Cordy smiled at him like that, he felt just as special—if not more so—than any guy who was prophesized could feel.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” She gave Willow a shy look that was uncharacteristic to her normal behaviour and nodded as she got up off the couch and walked towards him.

Xander took her by the hand and pulled her out onto the back decking with him.

“Cordy,” he breathed again as he pulled her to him and hugged her fiercely. He buried his nose in her hair and in inhaled the scent of her perfume and shampoo.

She seemed shocked at first as her arms hesitantly wound themselves around his shoulders until she too was gripping him with just as much force.

“It’s not me,” he said finally

“What?” she asked as she pulled back so she could look him in the face.

“It’s not me who has to do the ritual,” he said with a small smile on his face as he waited expectantly for her response.

“Oh,” she uttered in a shocked voice.

“Oh?” he repeated in confused question. His brows furrowing as he looked at her to try and decipher what she was saying.

“Yeah. Oh,” she repeated with more determination.

“I thought you’d be happy,” he let go of her completely as he stepped back.

“Well I got over you, I guess.” Her arms crossed over her chest haughtily as she affected an uninterested pose he had seen her do thousands of times before with other guys. Now she was doing it with him.

“You got over me?” he could hear the hurt in his own voice and prayed to god she hadn’t noticed it too.

“Uh-huh,” she supplied flippantly, bruising his ego and self esteem even further.

Suddenly unsure what to do with his hands, he slipped them into the pockets of his jeans. “Oh.”

“What? Did you think I was going to waste my time pining over someone who was getting married?” she asked, her own voice cracking slightly on the last word. But he was too far gone in his own feelings to hear it.

He swallowed heavily and shook his head. “I guess not.”

“Because that would be stupid.”

“I guess so.” He looked away from her and to the kitchen door, his only means of escape from the conversation that had gone seriously wrong. “I guess I’ll go back inside then.”

“What are you dumb or something?” she yelled at him, causing him to spin around to face her again. “You’re just going to walk away and leave me standing here?”

He felt like a deer caught in headlights under the wrath of Cordelia and unsure which answer she wanted “Yes? No? Well, what else am I meant to do?”

“I don’t know! Tell me I’m wrong and that I shouldn’t have gotten over you!” He looked at her like she had grown a second head, unable to keep up or comprehend when the hell he was meant to be doing.

“Yeah, well what good would that have done? You’re over me,” he stated as his own anger started to take hold.

“Damn straight I am!” she yelled back at him in an indignant voice.

He rolled his eyes and threw his hand in the air “Well fine!”

“Fine!” She screamed back, not to be out done.

“Okay then,” he said as he went to turn away again. Cordelia let out a screech of frustration as she stomped after him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and swung him around to face her again.

“Damn you Xander Harris,” she muttered, moments before her lips crashed down over his. They both struggled for the dominance neither would willingly relinquish as they pushed themselves up against the side of the house.

“So you’re not over me?” he asked breathlessly as he pulled back.

“Oh, I so am,” she answered before lowering her mouth to his again.

***

Buffy let out a soft moan as she felt Spike’s hand slip under the material of her shirt to rest on the warmed skin at the small of her back. She felt flushed all over, tingly in all the right places. His hands roaming across the bare expanse of her skin underneath her clothing raising goose bumps along her flesh as she recalled the day she had lay in her bed and touched herself while he was only a few floors below.

A shaky moan left her lips as Spike’s tongue darted out to trace the exposed line of her collarbone following it before continuing up the curve of her throat. Shivering in pleasure, Buffy felt him give a soft possessive growl against the skin of her neck before nipping at it lightly.

“Want to make you mine so much, kitten,” he whispered against her skin before their lips crashed together once more, bruising and biting in their desperation to consume.

“Spike,” her whimpered plea shot straight through him as she set her hands to wander down his chest to slip under the black cotton of his tee shirt.

“Can’t though, don’t want to do anything that might bollocks up the ritual,” he noted as he nipped at her bottom lip before latching onto it with his teeth and sucking it back into his mouth so they could engage in another hurried kiss that had her yearning for more.

“Don’t talk about that,” she mumbled against his lips as she dragged her fingernails across the cool hard skin of his chest. Her lips travelled over his once more, as her hands searched out the feel of his body against hers. He growled in approvement at the act as his hands moved up to tangle in her hair.

Joyce froze in the doorway to the room before quickly shutting the door quietly so as not to disturb the two on the bed. Her little girl was all grown up—she’d known it before, but….her little girl was all grown up. She couldn’t deny it any longer, there was simply nothing that screamed ‘innocent exploration and experimentation’ in that kiss…her little girl was all grown up. Well, at least we know now that they’re not going to have a problem with being married.

Joyce took a deep breath before lifting her hand to knock on the door. She lowered it again before she could make contact with the wood. Maybe I should come back later—no, best to stop it now before they get carried away. You can do this.

Lifting her hand once more, she rapped sharply on the wood trying to ignore the scurried movements she could hear behind the door.

“Buffy?” she asked as she poked her head in. Spike and Buffy were practically on opposite sides of the room with him leaning against her dresser while she sat up in bed. “Can I talk to you both?”

***

Giles glanced down at the prophecy laid out before him. There was more to it, more to be decoded. More that could possibly be of some relevance which needed to be addressed before the ritual went ahead that night. At least that was what he believed based upon what Travers had hinted before he had died of a magical overload to his body.

He looked down at his watch—it was 5 a.m. He had roughly twelve hours to decipher and translate the prophecy before the ritual was to begin.

He didn’t want to admit it. He was a proud man and he didn’t like asking for help regardless of the circumstances. In this case he didn’t know which was worse; the fact that he would need the help or the fact that it was Spike who he would have to ask.

Sighing, Giles made his way into the kitchen to brew himself a much needed pot of coffee that would help keep him awake for the next twelve hours.

He would wait until Joyce had returned from breaking the news to both Buffy and Spike and prayed to God that Buffy would take it okay. The last thing he wanted was to bind his slayer—his daughter—to a vampire. But he needed this reassurance that it what she preferred.

Giles winced as he heard a shriek come from upstairs promptly followed by a thump. Didn’t take it so well then, he thought as he moved to the fridge to pull out the milk for his coffee. The giggling he heard next caused him to stop in his tracks and listen. Yes, what he was hearing was most definitely giggling and it was coming from his Slayer.

“She took it well.” He turned to a smiling Joyce in the doorway and couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto his face.

“So it seems.”

Chapter 29



“I can’t believe I am doing this.” At the redhead’s statement, Cordy looked up from the candle she was lining up. Willow’s nose was wrinkled in distaste as she measured the distance between the candles she had placed down and aligned with Cordy’s, which were standing opposite hers.

“What, setting up the room for the ritual?” the brunette asked as she stood up once more and walked across the room to retrieve another two white pillar candles.

“No…well, yes,” Willow sighed and Cordy gave her a confused look. “But it’s more than that! I’m helping to set up a room for my best friend so that she can do the do the wild thing in it with a vampire. It’s kinda wiggy.”

Oz smiled affectionately at his girlfriend as he leaned over to brush a kiss across her forehead, running his hand absently down the back of her hair. She was forever say things that made him fall in love with her all over again. He gave her a soft smile as she turned her green eyes on him before he left to get another bundle of apple tree twigs.

A ring of twigs had been placed around the outer edge of the circle of blood, the circle they created was meant to symbolise the never ending devotion between the two being bound. Outside of that was a ring of ten white pillar candles that had been spaced evenly to help symbolise purity and loyalty within the bond.

The extra additions to the circle weren’t necessary to the ritual, but they would help with the flow of magicks and took away from the look of the ring of dried blood on the floor. It had taken the group next to no time to decide that if Buffy was going to do the nasty, the least they all felt they could do was make the room look nicer. And it did; it reminded Willow of something you’d expect to find in some enchanted fairytale.

“I am right there with you,” Xander said as he sprinkled rose petals—both red and white—around the circle. “Not that it bothers me,” he amended quickly at the glare that was shot in his direction from his girlfriend. “It just bothers me. Am I meant to be saying something while I throw these thingies around?”

Willow shook her head as she stood and picked up the other bowl of rose petals. “Nope, just scatter them.”

“What, the fact that she is having sex with a vampire bothers you? Or that you’re setting the room up for it?” Cordelia was standing with a hand on her hip, eyebrows raised questioningly at her boyfriend, waiting for his response.

“Both,” Xander supplied, blatantly ignoring her irritated look.

“I don’t see what the bid deal is, she has no choice. If she doesn’t she’ll die. Way I figure, it’s better if we make the room all pretty and nice smelling to get rid of the icky blood look it had going on before.”

“It’s the principle of the thing though, Cordy. We’re preparing the room for our best friend to have sex in it. Sure, we know she has to do it and that they’d probably end up going at it like bunnies eventually…” Cordy snorted and looked in the direction from which they could all hear giggles emanating. “At least then they could prepare the room for themselves! It’s on the same wig scale as setting the room up for your sister to have sex in, or your parents!”

The last comment prompted a chorus of ‘ews!’ from around the room.

“Ew, gross! You’re scarring me. As far as I’m concerned, my parents don’t have sex! Ever! All I can say is I’m glad we won’t be here for the big event tonight. Talk about uncomfortable…and gross. I have no desire to ever see that much of Buffy!” Cordy said as she stepped back to admire her work. “We should burn some incense, it kinda smells in here, don’t you think?”

“Why don’t you set up some Barry White while you’re at it?” Xander’s comment earned him a hard thump across the back of his head, and a glare from both of the females in the room. “I’m joking!”

Xander looked across at Oz for help. “So not going there,” the shorter man said as a small smirk of amusement crossed his stoic features.

“Are you four almost done?” Giles asked as he entered the room.

“Everything is good to go G-man.” Giles shot Xander a withering glare but did not comment on the nickname.

***

Buffy lifted her gaze to Spike as he entered the room, and despite everything offered him a shy smile. Spike smiled back at her. It was one of the things he was beginning to absolutely love about her, how she could get right in your face and kick some vampire’s arse without flinching but at other times be so completely feminine. It was enchanting. She was enchanting.

“So, I guess we should do this then?” Buffy asked, tearing her eyes away from Spike to look up at her surrogate father. He gave her a small smile.

“Whenever you’re both ready,” Giles said softly.

She looked back to Spike who held his hand out to her.

“Ready, love?” She answered him by stepping forward and grasping his hand. Together they both stepped over into the circle that the others had spent so much time setting up.

Buffy found herself almost frozen under Spike’s intense gaze, amazed that she could provoke such a look from a man. He looked both hungry and affectionate at the same time. Like this was more to him than just fulfilling a duty.

The thought did more than just warm her as she took her spot, kneeling across from him. She could only hope that he could read the emotions in her eyes as clearly and know that it likewise was no longer about fulfilling a duty for her either.

“Adustum,” Giles muttered beneath his breath, and watched as the candles around the circle burst to life. Looking up, he motioned for the two within the circle to hold hands.

“Beings of fire, incite love and passion in your own all-consuming ardour,” Giles began as he started to pour sand in intricate patterns around the circle. “We call upon you in the guise of Eros, kindler of desire, bringer of love, join us here and witness this bonding.”

He put the sand down and took up the rose water that had been bought for the occasion, sprinkling it on the glyphs that he had mapped out around the circle as he said each point.

“Here before your view, tie closely these bonds: Heart to thee, soul to thee, body to thee, forever and always, now as together make one.” The glyphs he had laid out glowed as he sprinkled them with the rose water before they disappeared altogether.

Having completed the appropriate incantation for the ritual, Giles looked up at Buffy and Spike. He felt like an intruder under the looks they were casting in the other’s direction—it was a private moment between them, one he felt uncomfortable witnessing. He picked up his bag quickly and walked over to the front door, knowing they would not notice him leave but casting one last look back at them before he walked out.

Buffy and Spike could both feel the magicks crackling through their bodies. It crawled over them like the flames of a fire, igniting the skin and bringing it to life. As expected, neither noticed Giles quietly slip out of the room before leaving the house all together.

Spike reached out his hand, running it down the side of Buffy’s face before drawing her across to him and into his lap. A heady gasp was torn from her throat the moment their skin touched, setting ablaze something deep within her. The energy that sparked between them was tangible.

He pulled her towards him, her legs falling either side of his own. Her head was arched back exposing her throat to him and her eyes shut as she let the echoes of his touch flow through her body.

Neither seemed to notice how the other’s eyes were glowing.

He lifted his hand and pushed back the golden strands of her hair as he leaned down to let his lips trail the length of her throat in a gentle caress. Her smell was intoxicating—like vanilla and the air just after it rained. He had never smelled anything quite like it, and felt sure he never would again.

Leaning forward slowly, he brushed his lips across the taut skin of her neck, his lips following up the line of her throat. Her head rolled to the side as she groaned, her eyes opening and pulling back to focus on his.

Words seemed beyond them, as they communicated through a series of growls and moans. She nipped at the pad of the thumb that swiped across the length of her lower lip before pulling him into her for a bruising kiss.

“It would have been you,” she finally said pulling back from him. “Even if they had brought Angel’s soul back somehow, it still would have been you.” She didn’t let her eyes stray from his as she spoke making sure he couldn’t misinterpret what she was trying to say.

“Mentioning the Poof isn’t the greatest turn on,” he replied, giving her a sly smirk.

“I just needed you to know that, before we—.” Her eyes were drawn back to his lips as she trailed off.

“I know.” Spike’s hands found their way to her hips, pulling her closer to him so that her centre was pressing against the hardness in his jeans. Her head flew back as she gasped at the contact, her hands flying to his shoulders to steady herself.

She let out a low moan as she ground herself down onto him again. His hands started to trail their way up her sides, easily slipping under the shirt she wore to cup her lace-covered breasts. In seconds, both her shirt and bra were gone, leaving her bare to his gaze with only the light from the candles casting her body in a warm glow.

His fingers trailed a thin path down between the valley of her breasts, his lips following in their wake. His tongue flicked out to circle the taut nipple of her right breast.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against her skin as he drew a rosy nipple into his mouth. Her hands found their way to the back of his head, her fingernails raking their way through his short hair.

Spike slowly began to push her back until she was stretched out beneath him, her body cradling his—her soft flesh pressing against the material of his shirt. Buffy quickly drew the garment up and over his head, desperate for the feeling of his bare skin pressed unhindered against her own.

Her moan was ragged as he lowered himself against her. She could feel his arousal nudging at her centre through his jeans as her hands ran up the length of his back.

His free hand dropped to her thigh which was tightening around his waist as his lips switched to the neglected breast. Spike smirked against her skin as Buffy’s leg immediately relaxed and fell open to his touch.

He bunched the thin material of her skirt in his hand and began to drag it upwards, his hand darting under it to run along the seam of her panties, dipping down to the sensitive spot between her legs and causing her to jolt under the unexpected pleasure from his touch.

She dragged his head up to her own again as his fingers brushed against her core through the material of her panties. Spike pressed his forehead against her own, their breaths mingling in the air around them as she swooped up to claim his mouth.

She pushed her core up into his questing fingers at they brushed over her once more. He let loose an animal like growl as Buffy’s lips dropped from his to his throat.

“Christ,” he ground out as her hands wound the waistband of his jeans. His head fell to her shoulder as her teeth nibbled over the mark she hand left on his throat, biting it lightly and gently pulling on the skin.

Buffy’s fingers popped the top button of Spike’s jeans, the metallic sound of a zipper being lowered following shortly thereafter. He knew this would be a short coupling—a frantic need to be joined with the other rather than a session of drawn out lovemaking, though just as rewarding. Their skin seemed to crackle to life whenever they touched, drawing them closer to that pivotal moment with very little encouragement.

His jeans were gone the next moment as his questing fingers found their way under the material of her underpants. He groaned loudly at the feel of her wetness. His finger slid across her slick folds effortlessly before delving in quickly.

“Spike,” she breathed out as her fingers trailed their way down his chest, her touch leaving burning tracks he could feel long after her fingers had passed. He kissed her throat fervently as she took him into her hand.

Buffy ran her thumb over the top of him collecting the small beads of pre-cum that had gathered there, before circling it around the head of his shaft. Her panties were torn away as he pushed himself into her hands.

“Need you, Spike,” she murmured as she moved him to position the head of his shaft at the entrance of her folds.

“Sodding hell,” he ground out at the feel of her wetness against his tip. She moved him up and down coating him in her fluids before opening her eyes and looking up at him.

The moment her eyes locked with his, he pushed forward and into her depths with an effortless ease guided by the slickness of her inner walls.

“Oh, God!” Her walls were already fluttering around him, gripping him tightly and refusing to let him go.

“Fuck, Buffy!” he muttered into her skin. The magicks inside them began to shift, covering them in waves as it grew.

Experimentally he pulled out of her wet tunnel, groaning at the loss of sensation of her being around him, before pushing himself back in. Her legs immediately came up to band around his waist pulling him further into her.

“Oh God, Spike!” Buffy’s hands found his hair once more as she turned her cheek into his. Her breath brushing over his ear with each harsh pant. “Stop…no, don’t stop…never—oh God!” She mumbled incoherently, unable to move past anything but the feelings he was evoking so masterfully inside her, aided along by the magicks of their union.

Her breathing, though unneeded, refused to abate, instead growing into labouring pants as she kissed the side of his cheek desperately and squeezed her eyes shut. She was almost there—she could almost feel the first flutterings of her orgasm approaching.

“Buffy,” he whispered, completely overwhelmed by the feelings inside him. “Buffy. Buffy. Buffy.”

She was growing tighter around him with each thrust. He was almost there. Closing his eyes, Spike sent a silent prayer to the Powers That Be or whoever was listening that she would follow him over. He wouldn’t be able hold back, not this time at least.

Morphing into his demon visage he stared down at her passion filled expression. “Buffy.”

She looked up at him in his demon features and nodded, her head falling to the side as her hands pulled his head down to her neck. Spike let out a growl and sunk his teeth passionately into the buttery skin of her throat. Her muscles clenched around him automatically as Buffy threw her head back and screamed her release.

His own orgasm was triggered seconds later as Spike shot himself into the depths of her womb. The magick within them swelled to an almost unbearable pitch as he with drew his fangs from her throat.

“Mine,” he growled out as he looked down at her. Buffy morphed into her demon features and latched onto his neck taking three long pulls of his rich blood.

“Yours,” she returned with as much passion. The magicks within them exploded suddenly as the final word was spoken, completing the ritual. An almost blindingly white explosion of light was triggered, illuminating the entire room and spilling out through the curtains covering the window and onto the street before settling over them.

Both were unconscious when the light subsided, Buffy’s being emitting a soft white glow that seemed to encase Spike and hold him to her side—a physical manifestation of both the claim and bonding that had just taken place.

Chapter 30


Buffy let out a sleep filled sigh as she hovered in the state between sleep and wakefulness. Trying to block out the coming day she rolled over, snuggling herself deeper into the arms that held her. She inhaled deeply, letting the thick scent that hung in the air fill her nostrils as she felt soft lips swoop down to press a kiss against the side of her neck, coaxing her gently into waking.

The lips nibbled gently on her neck where the mark that claimed her as a vampire’s mate stood proudly against the pale complexion of her skin, before moving to skim across her jaw line. She smiled as they came to hover over her own for a moment before placing a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“Mornin’, kitten.”

She smiled at the soft voice rumbling in her ear, sleepily blinking her eyes open, sighing in contentment as the first thing they fixed on were Spike’s clear blue eyes, sparkling with amusement. She smiled at him and rolled them over so she was lying atop of him.

“Morning,” she said as she leaned down to give him a soft welcoming kiss, as her hand gently strayed down his side. Spike growled deeply in encouragement as his hand snaked itself around Buffy’s waist and held her closer to him. She took his erection in her hands and gently ran her thumb over its tip.

Both of them gasped at the feeling. “God! I can feel you in every cell of my body,” she moaned as she closed her eyes and repeated the action. “Can you feel it? The change?”

“Christ!” he nodded as he bucked his hips up into her warm hand.

“It’s like you are almost a part of me, but not. You feel differently than I do, but you’re still there, connected deep inside,” she murmured.

Spike’s eyes snapped open and he grinned at her. “I’d like to feel myself deep inside you as well.”

Buffy smiled mischievously against him and pressed a kiss to his chest, taking the small nub of his nipple between her teeth and lightly biting down.

“You mean, like this?” she asked as she positioned him at her entrance and slowly lowered herself onto his shaft. Both let out a moan of completion at the connection.

“Fuck, kitten, just like that,” he agreed. “You feel amazing,” he groaned as his erection was fully encased within her moist depths.

“You too,” she replied as she rocked her hips forward so she could lean down to lower her mouth to his own. A shaky moan was torn from Buffy’s lips at the movement as Spike shifted inside her. Abandoning her task she slowly rose above him, letting him slide out from within her only to push down again and force a groan from her lover’s lips.

One of his hands gripped at her thigh as the other aided the movement of her hips. A kittenish mewl sounded from her as he hit a point within her that sent a bolt of pleasure racing up her spine. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!”

“You alright, pet?”

Buffy nodded frantically as she rose and fell above him again. A strangled moan was torn from his lips. She reached for the hand that loosely held her thigh and dragged it up her body to cup her breast, squeezing down and manipulating it into squeezing her breast firmly.

Spike looked up at her through hooded eyes as she rode him fiercely, desperate to draw all the pleasure she could from her lover’s body. She looked beautiful like this—she looked beautiful always—but this… her sex-rumbled hair falling all around her shoulders, passion filled eyes boring into him, her skin golden and glowing.

Spike pushed him self up into a sitting position, one arm tightly banding around Buffy’s waist as she never broke her stride. “Christ, woman, what you do to me.”

Buffy’s legs were clamped tightly around his hips as he laved her chest with kisses, nipping at her and soothing it over with his tongue.

“Bite me.” She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled his head back so she could look down at him. He nodded and she kissed him roughly as he morphed into his demon’s face.

Reaching his hand up into the back of her hair he yanked her head to the side exposing the beautiful length of her throat and the mark he had left on her the night before. His demon howled with pleasure at the sight of it, so proudly worn on her neck. Pulling back, he sunk his fangs into the wound again.

Her orgasm hit hard the minute she felt his teeth enter her neck. Her inner muscles clamped down around him and she clutched his head to her neck.

“Mine,” he said again as he pulled back from her, running his tongue lovingly over the wound.

“Oh God! Yours!” she wept as she buried her fangs into the flesh of his throat. Spike roared loudly as he spilled himself into her depths and collapsed back against the floor as she flopped on top of him.

“Oh for the love of—,” Xander’s voice had their heads snapping towards the front door, where the entire Scooby gang plus Joyce was standing, looking at them slack jawed.

Joyce’s hand was firmly planted over Xander’s mouth. “I guess we’ll, um…we’ll come back later.”

Buffy whimpered and buried her head in Spike’s shoulder as the group shuffled out of the house again.

“Tell me that didn’t just happen. Tell me my mother didn’t just walk in on me having hot monkey sex,” she said hopefully, as she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Well in all fairness, that is what she left you here to do,” he retorted, with an amused smirk on his face.

Buffy glared at him. “So not helping, Spike!”

He chuckled and rolled her over again, lifting his hand and gently brushing her hair out of her face.

“What’s this?” she asked, grabbing his wrist. “I’ve never seen this before.”

He frowned. “That’s because it’s never been there before. You’ve got one too,” he noted, picking up her left wrist and lightly running his fingers over it. A shiver ran down her spine and she softly shut her eyes.

“Do you think it’s from the claim?” she asked in a breathy voice as he leaned over her to run his tongue across it.

“No, it might be from the hand fasting though, it looks like it’s in some sort of script.”

Buffy turned her head to look at his, nodding her agreement. “Yours too,” she traced its line with her fingers. “It’s pretty.”

“We should ask the Watcher when he gets back.”

Buffy groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Excuse me while I go die of embarrassment.”

***

Drusilla hadn’t moved from her place in days. Not since her daddy had been ripped from her world. She had felt it the moment he crumpled to dust and with him a little piece of her had died as well. She was so lost. No daddy, nothing to live for, yet she knew she couldn’t leave this world just yet. Though she did not know why, she knew it to be true.

She was truly alone now, no daddy, no grandmum, no Spike, and now the continued absence of her newest puppy—the one who had magick in his veins. Her happy family was gone and she had been left alone to pick up the pieces that were left of her broken mind.

Dru sighed and ran her sharp nail down the body of the young teen she had tied naked to the bed, causing blood to bloom from the shallow cut before she lapped it up again. She was meant to eat the girl, but she couldn’t bring herself to do more than play with her and lap at the blood from where it was drawn.

“Why? Why haven’t you spoken to me?” she whimpered to no one, ignoring the fearful looks the young girl was sending her. She had given up pleading and crying days ago, the woman who held her captive was clearly insane. “Why won’t you tell me what to do? I’ve been so good…such a good girl.”

The vision was unexpected. Dru had been without them for so many days that their intensity had been somewhat forgotten in that time. She gasped as she threw herself back onto the bed, her hands immediately going to her hair as she moaned and shook from the images which assaulted her. The result, however, left her with a wistful smile on her face. Things would be well again, she just had to take the right steps towards it.

She turned towards the young brunette with a wicked smile on her face. “It’s okay, dumpling,” she said in a perky manner as she stroked the girls face. “All will be well again. You’ll see, we’ll have such fun you and I.” Dru immediately sunk her fingers into the girl’s quim.

The teen bucked and tried not to find pleasure in the act, but after days of continued stimulation—albeit in the form of pain—the change in touch was welcomed. Dru watched her as she shut her eyes, her head falling to the side in pleasure even as her eyes scrunched tight trying to deny it. Morphing into her demon’s face Dru crawled up over the girl and sunk her fangs into her neck, smiling when she felt the girl climax around her fingers.

She pulled back when the girl was just hovering on the brink of death and scored a line across her own chest with a sharp fingernail. Dru pulled the girl’s head towards it, letting her drink the blood that would make her a creature of the night.

“A new family,” Dru whispered as she let the girl continue to drink.

***

Spike smirked as he pulled Buffy down into his lap and watched the shock cross the faces of her friends as they attempted to avert their eyes. After getting an eyeful that morning upon arriving home from spending the night at the Watcher’s house, it seemed they didn’t know where to look.

“You all going to sit down?” Spike asked, looking around at them all as they all sat down mechanically at his command.

“Spike, will you stop it!” Buffy hissed, hitting him gently and sliding off his lap to sit tucked up into his side. “Giles, we wanted to ask you if you knew anything about these?”

Buffy fought the blush that was making its way across her face, as she leant over to show her Watcher the tattoo she now wore on the inside of her wrist.

“Ah, o-of course, it is part of the ritual, the equivalent of a wedding ring you might say. Likewise the patterns are unique to the couple. May I see?” he asked, looking up at Spike. The vampire leant forward and showed him his wrist as well. “I could translate this for you.”

“Would you?” Buffy asked hopefully.

Giles smiled and nodded at her, taking a quick note of the symbols used. “While we are all here, we need to talk about Hank. We can’t very well leave him tied up in the basement forever,” Giles noted as he looked up again.

Buffy placed a calming hand on Spike’s thigh as he let out a rumbling growl. “Bastard deserves to die for what he did to his own daughter!”

“Be that as it may, I sincerely doubt you would be the one to kill him,” Giles said with a pointed look at Buffy, “and none of us are about to commit murder.”

Joyce snorted. “You might not be willing, but I ought to flay him alive.”

“Mom!” Buffy was shocked at her mother’s words, but Spike gave her an admiring smile.

“We could strip him of his magic,” Willow offered. “It would be painful though, and I think Giles would have to be the one to do it, but I read in a book that stripping someone of their magick is a permanent thing. He’d never be able to use magick again”

“Perfect,” Buffy said as her hand played absently with Spike’s. “Painful and full of revenge; let’s see how he likes being utterly defenceless.”

“I will need a day two prepare, and I need to make a call to someone who might be able to be of some use,” Giles said, removing his glasses. “What do you plan on doing with him afterwards?”

“Send him home.”

Epilogue



The house on Revello Drive and its occupants seemed to deflate with the rapid approach of night. The adrenaline that they had been running on for days seemed to have suddenly run short and the claws of fatigue had begun to sink in and pull on them. Almost everyone had crawled their way into bed for some much needed rest, leaving only Giles, Joyce, Spike and Buffy among those awake.

Together they performed the required spell on Hank to permanently strip him of any ability to use magick.

The sight was horrific to say the least. Hank cursed at them and screamed pathetically as they forcibly ripped the magicks from within him. His eyes turned pure black as he used the last vestiges of his strength to try and hold on to the magicks and conjure a spell to block the one that was trying to rid him of his powers. His attempt was pitiful to the point where he abandoned that tactic to crawl his way across the floor to his ex-wife to beg that she do something to help him.

Joyce’s response was a swift, forceful fist to the face causing the man to fall back in shock and her to yelp in pain as she shook out her hand. Spike, Buffy and Giles looked at her with identical stunned expressions that were not without some measure of pride.

“What, you think I can’t throw a punch too? Please, not all Buffy’s spark is because she is the Slayer,” Joyce said, grinning at their shocked faces. Spike just smirked at her in appreciation.

Hank lain withering on the floor for the next hour and a half as he recovered from the effects of having his magicks ripped from within him. They waited patiently until he gained some measure of self before they unceremoniously picked him up and threw him out the front door with orders not to show his face around them again and to make sure he kept up the child support payments each month. With that they had slammed the door in his face and on another chapter of their lives that none of them was willing to revisit any time in the near or distant future.

The rest of the day was spent completing little tasks, such as cleaning up the remains of the ritual that had taken place in the living room. Both the glyphs and the ring of dried blood had disappeared along with the blinding flash of light that had occurred on the completion of the ritual, so little more needed to be done than tidying up the petals, candles and apple tree twigs that still remained.

Spike and Buffy had stayed close to one another with their hands brushing as they worked, resulting in them sharing secretive smiles at the contact. The pull to touch one another proved too strong to resist, and they continued to work each other into a frenzy as they went about cleaning the room. If anyone had noticed the game they were playing, nothing was said. Instead, the others chose to work quietly and ignore the growing sexual tension within the room.

“So, how’s it going?” Buffy asked finally as she let herself drop ungracefully into the chair across that of her Watcher’s. He had been working on translating the brandings on the inside of Spike’s and her own wrist for what seemed like hours.

“I believe I have translated the scripture.” Giles passed the notepad he had been working on across the table to her. Buffy took it and looked down at his workings.

Buffy looked up at him again.

“The top one is what is branded on the inside of Spike’s wrist, and the bottom one is what yours reads,” Giles explained.

He watched her with a fatherly affection as a warm smile full of happiness spread across her face and her fingers dropped to gently trace the words on her wrist. “Thank you.”

Giles gave her a small smile as he leaned back in his seat and looked up at her over the top of his glasses before he removed them from his face altogether. “Think nothing of it. How are you feeling?”

Buffy gave him the bright smile that only she could as she let the notepad rest back against the table. “Honestly? Considering everything that’s happened, I’m okay. Better than okay, even.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His eyes were kind as he studied her, his hand absently cleaning the lens of his glasses.

“I was pretty out of it for a while there… I don’t ever want to be that helpless again.” Her gaze dropped to the notepad before her and her fingers began to absently trace over the writing on it as she spoke.

“No one likes to be helpless, Buffy, and I dare say that the circumstances with which you were dealing—especially Hank’s involvement—were outside what one might expect as a Slayer. You were attacked by those who were meant to support you and you did well to come through as you have.”

Buffy merely nodded, not lifting her gaze from the notepad. “Hmm,” she murmured in agreement as something on the page caught her eye. There was a large bit of text written at the top of the page which had been half heartedly crossed out before Giles had begun the translation on Spike’s and her own brandings. “What’s this?”

Buffy picked up the notepad and looked at it before handing it back to him.

Giles took the notepad from her and looked at the chunk of text to which she was referring. “Oh, this? I had thought it to be part of the original prophecy foretelling your hand fasting to Spike. However, after translating it, I found that it belongs to another.”

Buffy frowned in confusion. “How come?”

“It speaks of the birth of a child, but vampires are infertile. Therefore the text is irrelevant to either of you since you are now mated.”

“Oh.” A moment of silence seemed to pass between them as they each became lost in their own thoughts. “Do you think this is the end of it?”

Giles looked at her for a moment before answering. “For now. I believe Drusilla is still out there somewhere doing heavens knows what. By all rights I should be sending you after her—she is a danger to both us and to the general public—but I feel for the moment, Buffy, that you have been through enough. We will no doubt see more of her in the future, and when that time comes I trust that you will do your best to stake her, but for now Buffy? Yes, this is the end of it.”

Buffy looked up at him again with a bright smile. “So, I was thinking pizza for dinner? I don’t know about you but I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week!”

Giles smiled laughingly at his Slayer as they both got up from the table, all talk of prophecies, children and Drusilla behind them as they made their way into the kitchen.

“Sounds divine.”

***

A heart which once was black,
No longer is forced to seek love amid death;
A union wrought between sun and moon,
Creates balance between the worlds;
A legacy gifted to the race of mankind,
Shall bring an end to those born to watch;
An era of corruption and treachery will fall;
A child destined to lead will rise;
As a family they will be,
Together a bridge between worlds.



***




The End

AN: The End! *does happy dance* This has been so much fun to write, and I am sad to see it come to an end, but I think that it has run its course as far as plot goes. I realise that I have left some things unanswered (the prophecy at the end, Drusilla and her new childe), but I think that carrying this fic on any further would have only been dragging it out. Plus, leaving it open allows room for a possible sequel should my muse prove willing in the future (although there are currently no plans to write one).

I’d like to say a HUGE thank you to my beta Andrea for her amazing work beta’ing this fic and making it readable, lol! And also to everyone who has reviewed this story! Your feedback has been fantastic and it inspired me to keep writing even when chapters proved difficult to write. Thank you!

~Spikeschilde