Ch. 10: So It Begins
 

The Outskirts of Rome

The cloak-clad figure stood with his back to the hearth while the minion brought everything in that was needed. He’d needed to fast for a week to prepare his body for the rigors needed to create the elixir that would bring about the destruction of the Slayer. Silently, he watched while everything was prepared to his satisfaction. The minion worked quickly to get everything laid out as it should be. Once done, he stood back from the table, his head bowed in a manner of subservience towards his master.

“Leave me.” The minion bowed quietly and left the room, soundlessly shutting the door on the way out.

Stepping away from the fire, the figure slowly approached the table. He reached up to remove the cloak from his head, revealing silky black hair that fell in waves down to his shoulders. Various markings were etched into his cheeks and forehead. His black gaze swept over the contents of the table, assuring everything was to his satisfaction. Appeased that all was as it should be, he removed the cloak from his body. Well-defined muscle showed in his chest and arms. Markings were etched in his taut, olive skin all over his arms and chest. His eyes flashed red and his markings began to glow as he began to make the elixir that would bring about the destruction of the blond slayer, and with her, all the other slayers created that fateful day. ‘Soon, my King, it will be as it was before. And then we will rule this Earth.’

Reading from a book that was ancient long before his own time, the man carefully combined the ingredients needed. Softly, he began to chat in a language so old, no written record of it was recorded. The bowl containing the mixed ingredients began to vibrate on the wooden table. Wind blew on the flames of candles scattered throughout the room, the only means of light. Shadows shifted, and a blue, hazy mist materialized above the bowl. The chanting became louder, more forceful until it built to a fevered climax. Then, silence. The markings on his body began to fade; his eyes faded from red to once again become black, opaque orbs. Coming out of his semi-trancelike state, he glanced in the bowl. Staring down at the deep blue liquid, an evil smile came to his face. ‘It’s ready,’ Damius thought to himself. ‘Now it’s time to introduce the slayer to death.’

~*~*~*~*~

Rome

“Nothing yet, Buffy. I’m still working on it,” Giles voice sounded in her ear.

“Thanks, Giles. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then,” Buffy said as she hung up the phone in her office. ‘Damn!’ she thought.

Buffy was starting to get impatient. Truth be told, she passed impatient days ago. Each day, Giles called to update her on the progress of that prophecy he received from Angel. Each day it was the same answer. Nothing. She was ready to pull her hair out from frustration. Actually, it made her kill a few extra demons each night then go back home to shag Spike for a few hours. ‘Oh my God. Did I just think the word shag? Spike’s really starting to rub off on me,’ she thought. The thought brought a smile to her lips. It had been a great week. She was eating better and wasn’t dropping from exhaustion each night. ‘Well not the kind of exhaustion I had before Spike got here, anyway.’ Now, she could at least get a decent night’s rest. The Sunnydale dream hadn’t returned, which was a good thing. And there had been no more prophetic slayer dreams, either. Though, she still couldn’t shake this impending sense of doom. ‘Don’t borrow trouble. Save your strength for when it’s needed.’ Grumpily, she got up and made her way upstairs to spend time with her vampire before she needed to head to the third floor to start her workout session with her girls.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy, Spike, and the young slayers slowly made their way through the cemetery, eyes peeled for any demons. Buffy grabbed Spike’s arm to let the other girls move a little ahead of them. He stopped, head cocked to the side. ‘Vampires. Two of them,’ he thought. Silently, he held up two fingers. Buffy nodded, agreeing. Buffy upended the sword she was carrying so that the tip was resting lightly in the ground. Spike swung the axe he was carrying loosely over his shoulder. Standing still, they watched the scene play out before them.

Angelina, who was leading the pack of girls, saw them first. Two vampires had cornered a man out walking his dog, poised and ready to attack. Pulling out her stake from beneath her jacket she got their attention.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” she yelled. The two vampires looked away from their dinner only to be confronted by not one, but ten girls. The girls quickly fanned out to surround the two vampires. The man picked up his dog, running away from the vampires. Safely behind the girls surrounding the vampires, he could only get out half asked questions: “What…are? Are you?” The man was bordering on fainting from shock as he approached Buffy. She took one hand off of the hilt of the sword and placed it on his shoulder, getting the man’s attention.

“It’s ok. Just go on home. We’ll handle this,” she said. Dazed, he wandered off towards home, mumbling under his breath. Buffy gazed after him to make sure he was going to be all right. Satisfied, she once again turned her attention towards the action going on. Even though the girls out numbered the vamps ten-to-two, they weren’t all that experienced. This evened the odds out a little bit. That’s why Spike and Buffy were there as back up.

The concern on her face gave way to a slight smile. What the girls lack in experience, they more than made up for in teamwork. Angelina and Francesca distracted the first vamp long enough for Kat to position herself behind him, stake ready. All that remained was a forceful jab. Kat rammed the stake through the vamp’s back, straight into his heart. It gave out a loud yell, and then vaporized to dust between the three girls. The second vamp, seeing his friend meet his end, attempted to run. Suddenly, he stopped and stared at something in the distance. Buffy and Spike, seeing the vamp’s gaze, turned and looked at the far side of the cemetery.

At the edge of the cemetery stood a man cloaked from head to foot. Six vampires surrounded him. Buffy quickly pulled the sword point out of the ground and assumed a defensive stance. She motioned for the girls to fall back behind Spike and herself. Just then, the vamps attacked. They avoided Buffy and aimed straight for the girls. Spike put himself between the vampires and the young slayers and vamped out as the first wave reached him. The vampires were obviously not that skilled and Spike dusted two in a matter of seconds.

‘Guess this leaves the mysteriously cloaked one for me,’ she thought, as she engaged this new enemy. Sword at the ready, she waited for her attacker. It wasn’t long in coming. Seeing that the vampires had the others distracted, he made his move. He ran towards Buffy, arms shoulder high, sword poised to attack. As he got close, he swung his sword down, attempting to embed his sword in her shoulder. Buffy waited until the last second before bringing her sword up to block. And so it began. The fighters were well matched. Neither could gain the edge over the other. During the battle, the hood fell from his head. Buffy noticed the black hair, olive skin complexion, and weird markings on his face; she filed the information away for later.

Without warning, one of the remaining vampires broke off from the other girls and attempted to take out Buffy. Seeing his intention, Spike intercepted the vampire before it reached Buffy, but it was enough for Buffy to momentarily take her eyes off her attacker. It was the opening he needed. In that brief moment of distraction, he swung his sword in a wide arc, slicing Buffy’s midsection. She cried out in pain as the force of the blow spun her sideways. She fell to her knees clutching her stomach.

“Buffy!” Spike yelled. Enraged, he quickly dusted the vamp and ran to put himself between her and her attacker. Realizing that the distraction the vampires had provided was almost at an end, the cloaked figure smirked at the vampire standing guard in front of the slayer.

“Some other time, vampire,” he said, and twirling on his heel, swiftly left the cemetery.

Spike would have liked nothing better than to go after him, but he could smell Buffy’s blood on the air as it poured out of her wound. He needed to get her back home so he could tend to her wound. ‘Count on it,’ he thought to himself. When he realized that no other dangers were present in the cemetery he backtracked to Buffy. He passed off his axe to one of the girls, then he bent down and carefully lifted Buffy up into his arms.

“’s ok, luv. I’ve got ya. You’ll be right as rain in no time.” Slowly, he made his way home, Buffy cradled gently in his arms.

Ch. 11: The Confrontation

The Outskirts of Rome

‘Everything is going exactly as planned. The slayer suspects nothing more than an additional attack on her little group tonight. It’s a shame she got a look at my face, though. Oh well, it doesn’t matter,’ he thought. Slipping the hood of his cloak down off his head, Damius made his way back towards his temporary living quarters. Black orbs briefly flicked red.

Before leaving to confront the slayer, Damius had liberally applied the potion he had made to the sword he now carried in his hands. All he had needed to do was break the skin in order for the potion to mix with her blood. Then, he just had to sit back and wait as the poison slowly seeped through the slayer’s bloodstream, eventually killing her. With her slayer healing it may take a bit longer, but she was no match against the poison now working its way through her body. In the end, she would die, and along with her, all the other slayers. ‘Except Faith,’ he thought. ‘Then there will be only one.’

~*~*~*~*~

Rome

Spike swept through the front door held open for him by Lionna.

“Someone bring me the first aid kit. The rest of you go to bed. And, be quiet. I don’t want the ‘Bit waking up.”

He made quick work of climbing the stairs, careful not to jar Buffy as he headed for her room. He nudged the partially open bedroom door with his foot, sending it swinging inward, then walked over to the bed. Gently, he leaned over and he laid Buffy down on top of the covers. Standing back up, his eyes scanned over her body quickly inventorying her injuries. Her face was pale, probably due to shock. Blood covered the front of her shirt spilling over onto her arms where she was holding them over the front of her wound, trying to stem the blood flow. Just then, Kat walked in bearing the first aid kit.

“Here you go, Spike,” she whispered, handing him the kit. “Do you want me to stay and help?”

“No, we’ll be fine. The slayer’s been through worse than this scratch.” Even as he said the words, he didn’t entirely believe them. Something about the attack just didn’t sit right with him. The vampires were too inept, that mysterious cloaked dude was too focused on his slayer. Pushing his wayward thoughts aside, he took the first aid kit over to Buffy and set about getting her taken care of. Kat quietly shut the bedroom door behind her, letting the vampire tend to Buffy alone.

She was still conscious as she lay there on the bed. Spike set the kit down on the bed. “Let’s have us a look-see, luv.”

Reluctantly, Buffy removed her arms from her wound. Spike pulled out the dagger he kept hidden in his boot, and with painstaking care, slit the front of her shirt from neck to hem. The shirt parted to reveal an eight-inch cut just above her belly button. Blood continued to ooze out of the wound. Spike grabbed some gauze and used it to apply pressure to the wound. After a few minutes, he lifted the gauze away from her body to get a better look. ‘Not as deep as I thought,” he thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “I’m gonna have to stitch this up, luv.”

Buffy just closed her eyes and gave a weak nod. Spike reached into the kit and grabbed the antiseptic and some more gauze. He liberally doused the gauze then applied it to her wound. Her breath left her in a “whoosh” as tears sprung unshed to her eyes. Spike lifted his gaze from the task at hand to look at Buffy. Watery eyes looked at her, a silent apology in his gaze. He left the antiseptic-filled gauze on the wound and rummaged in the kit for needle and thread. Once the needle was threaded, he poured antiseptic over it. Spike removed the gauze from the wound and set about stitching his slayer up. Buffy never made a sound, but he could feel each jab of the needle through her skin right in his unbeating heart. Spike, for his part, tried to work as quickly and as efficiently as possible. Once finished with his task, he had her sit up so he could wrap a dressing around her stitches.

When he was finished with the bandage, Spike scooped Buffy up into his arms and placed her on the chair. He walked back to the bed and quickly stripped the blood-soaked sheets. Grabbing a fresh set from the closet, he remade the bed. Backtracking to the chair he once more picked Buffy in his arms. Gingerly, so as not to jostle her wound, he laid her back down on the freshly made bed. He reached down to remove her boots, then her pants. He tucked the covers carefully around her shoulders then leaned down to brush the hair off her forehead.

“I’ll be right back, luv.” She just nodded and closed her eyes, letting sleep finally overtake her.

Spike stood up and grabbed the discarded clothes and linens. He threw them in the hamper on the way to the bathroom. Stripping down to his bare skin, he took a quick shower to rid himself of the slayer’s blood and the dirt and grime from the battle. He emerged from the shower and wrapped a towel around his lean hips. Cutting the light off in the bathroom, he made his way back into the bedroom. Spike crossed to the nightstand that had the light on, and clicked it off, then walked around to the other side of the bed and eased himself between the sheets. Carefully, he spooned himself up to Buffy’s side, sliding his arm under her neck and placing the other on her hip. She sighed in her sleep and relaxed back into his embrace. He held her while she slept, reliving the battle in his mind, trying to figure out what was nagging him. Towards dawn, he gave up and drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

She sat on a rock staring at the flames of the fire burning before her. A shadowy figure moved in and out behind the flames, crouching on her haunches. She couldn’t tell what it was. Hints of a woman, dreadlocks, a painted face.

‘I…I'm sorry, I…I'm just a little confused. I'm full of love, which is nice, and ... love will lead me to my gift?’

‘Yes.’

‘I'm getting a gift? Or, or do you mean that, that I have a gift to give to someone else?’

‘Death is your gift.’

‘Death…’
 

‘Is your gift.’

~*~

Buffy woke up with a start, her eyes flying wide open. She would have jolted to an upright position, but the cool arms wrapped around her prevented her from moving. Waking took away the numbness sleep provided for her wound, and the pain in her abdomen caused her to clutch her hands over the bandages covering her midsection. Buffy emitted a muffled groan. The noise woke Spike, and he lifted his head so that he could look at her face.

“What is it, luv?”

“Nothing. Just a dream. I don’t even remember it,” she lied.

“’s ok. I won’t let anything happen to you. Close your eyes and try to get some more sleep.”

Buffy fidgeted for a moment, trying to get comfortable. She scooted as close to Spike as she could without aggravating her wound. A tremor shook her slight frame. She hated to lie to Spike, but she had no explanation for her dream. And what’s even more peculiar is that she had already had this particular dream. This was definitely a first – a repeat dream. She distinctly remembered the slayer dream from her quest Giles had helped her with before having to deal with Glory a few years back. She had ended up jumping off a tower to save the world, dying in the process. She would hate to think about something like that happening again, she wasn’t ready to go back to heaven yet, now that Spike was back with her. With a soft sigh, she let the soothing caress of Spike’s fingers through her hair lull her back to sleep.

Spike could tell by her even breathing and slower heart rate that she had drifted off to sleep. He knew that Buffy was lying to him about her dream, but he didn’t want to push the issue. She needed to heal right now, not argue. And, he could feel a big argument coming on. ‘In the morning,’ he thought. ‘We’ll hash this out then. I’m not gonna let her deal with this on her own.’

Ch. 12: A Lingering Pain
 

Buffy was pulled from a dreamless sleep as intense pleasure centered in her core to spread outward throughout her body. Slightly disoriented from a lingering pain in her stomach and the remnants of sleep, it took her a moment to realize what had pulled her from sleep. As her mind slowly came into focus, she realized she was lying on her side, her top leg draped back over Spike’s lean hips. She felt the cool length of Spike’s cock as it slid in and out of her slick passage. Ignoring any lingering pain she was feeling, she wiggled her ass taking him deeper inside her.

“Mmmmm… god, that feels good,” Spike whispered against her ear. His tongue slowly traced the shell before nibbling on her lobe; the sensation producing an answering throb in her clit. His hand left her hip to tease her nipples, alternating between the two. Softly his thumb flicked across the hardened points before lightly rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. The feel of his hand on her breasts caused her to moan in delight, her head falling back against his chest. Her exposed neck was too much of a temptation for Spike and his mouth left her ear to trail kisses and blunt-teeth nibbles down her neck. Another moan, louder, escaped Buffy’s lips.

Spike kept his strokes nice and slow, burying himself to the hilt while trying not to aggravate the wound on her stomach. The angle of his thrust hit her spot, and as his hand released her breast to allow his thumb to flick over her clit the pleasure became to great and Buffy’s orgasm rocked through her body. Inner slayer muscles squeezed his cock in ongoing sweet torture, milking him for all he was worth. Spike could not stand the blissful torment any longer, and with one last deep thrust he spilled his cool seed within her body as he fell over the edge with her into oblivion.

“’Mornin, luv,” Spike whispered in her ear, a while later. He eased himself out of her moist heat, groaning as her muscles clamped down on his cock, refusing to let go, before finally conceding.

“Mornin.”

“How ya feelin?”

A blissful sigh escaped her lips. Spike chuckled.

“I meant the wound, luv,” Spike replied. Buffy blushed even more under her already flushed face. His bare stomach received a quick elbow for his teasing. A silent gasp formed on her mouth for the pain it caused her.

“Ow. That hurt, slayer.”

“Good. Teach you to tease me,” she replied, trying to cover her pain, not answering his original question. Her slayer healing should have already been working miracles on her cut, and she was surprised that she was still feeling the aftereffects of last night’s battle.

Spike wasn’t deterred in the least. He had heard her hitched breath as she had jabbed him. “Buffy?” he called her name, concerned. He was starting to feel guilty about making love to her this morning, especially since she still appeared to be somewhat sore.

“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine. A little sore. No big.” So saying, she pulled out of his embrace and swung her legs over the bed. Gingerly, she stood up and padded silently to the bathroom. Spike watched her go, noticing the hesitancy of her step. He propped himself up against the headboard waiting for her return. Buffy came out of the bathroom a bit later and paused, taking in Spike’s demeanor.

‘Uh oh. Resolve face. Guess he picked up a few things from Will,’ she thought to herself. Trying to buy herself some time, she crossed to her dresser to get a shirt to slip over her head. A slight grimace appeared briefly on her features as she lifted her arms through the shirt sleeves. She turned around to face him again. Spike cocked his scarred eyebrow and waited, arms crossed casually over his chest.

‘Damn. Still there.’

“What?” she asked irritably, trying to pick an argument to get his mind off of her injury. Spike wasn’t falling for it. He just cocked his head slightly to the side and waited, raised eyebrow mocking her.

‘Aw, hell.’ Knowing she wasn’t going to win caused her to pout. Head lowered, her bottom lip jutted out. Spike hid a quick grin while she wasn’t paying attention, but was once more in his ‘resolve face,’ as Willow liked to call it, when she glanced back up at him. He just waited.

“Fine! Damn Will anyway, teaching you the resolve face! See… It’s just… Damn!” She mentally stomped her foot in childish frustration.

“Ididn’twanttosayanythingcuzyouwouldjustworry,” she rushed out really quickly, hoping he didn’t understand what she had said. He waited. “It’s just that, it was just a scratch really. No more. I should be fine. Me with the slayer healing and all.” A little gesturing of her hands in the air soon stopped when she winced in pain. “But, it’s still sore. As you can see. And, it shouldn’t be. And, I don’t know why,” she mumbled.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispered. Thoughts of her dream the night before flitted through her mind. Spike’s expression softened immediately. He knew it took a lot for her to lean on someone. Usually, it was the other way around, everyone leaning on her. Not anymore. They were in this together. He got out of bed and walked over to Buffy. He pulled her into a hug, mindful of her bandages.

“It’s probably nothing. You weren’t exactly running at 100% when I showed up. I’m sure you’ll be right as rain in no time.” With all the soul-baring from Buffy, Spike completely forgot about her nightmare from last night.

“I’m sure you’re right,” she replied, a slight smile on her face. Although, Buffy wondered. With that dream she had last night, she wasn’t so sure. Buffy put her robe on and made her way downstairs to meet Dawn for breakfast, while Spike went back to sleep for a few more hours.

“No training today, slayer,” he mumbled as he snuggled down into her pillow, wallowing in the scent that was Buffy.

“Right, no training for me today,” she concurred. ‘As if I feel up to it, anyway,’ she thought to herself.

~*~*~*~*~

The lure of fresh ground coffee pulled her towards the kitchen. Dawn was sitting down at the table with a steaming cup in front of her, reading over school notes. Buffy walked over to the cupboard that housed the mugs so she could pour herself a cup of coffee. Without realizing what she was doing, she attempted to reach over her head to grab a mug. The pain that lanced through her stomach caused her to let out a muted groan, and quickly grab her middle. Dawn glanced up frantically at the sound of pain coming from her sister’s mouth and noticed her clutching her middle, a pained look on her face.

“Buffy, what’s wrong?” she cried, rushing to her side.

“Nothing, Dawnie. I just ran into a nasty last night on patrol. He nicked me above my stomach. Hurts a little to lift my hands over my head. Wasn’t thinking when I reached for a mug.”

Buffy attempted to distract Dawn with a request for a cup. Quickly complying, Dawn grabbed one down out of the cupboard while Buffy made her way to the table and sat down. Dawn filled the mug full of coffee and brought it back over to Buffy. She pulled her chair over and sat down next to her.

“You sure you’re ok. I can stay home if you need me too.”

“Yes. And, no, you need to go to school. It’s just a couple of stitches (More like twenty, but who’s counting?). I’ll be fine. Spike’s already banned me from training for the day so I can heal. Really. I’ll be fine.”

“Ok. If you’re sure?” Buffy assured her she was. “Oh, by the way, Giles called. You must have still been asleep. He said he’d call back about 9:00 a.m. our time. Nothing big, just his daily check up.”

“Thanks.” Buffy sat back and sipped her coffee, eyeing Dawn as she moved back to her stop and once more resumed looking at schoolwork. “Whatcha’ working on?”

“Oh, just looking over my notes for history. We have a test today on WWII. Can I say ewww?”

‘Ewww, is right,’ Buffy thought. She nodded at Dawn sympathetically. “Definitely of the ewww. Hey, since I’m off patrol for tonight, you want me to get a couple of movies so we can have movie night?”

“Sounds great,” Dawn replied as she scooped up her stuff so she could head off to school. “Oh, don’t forget the pizza and popcorn!”

Buffy smiled to herself as she finished her coffee. ‘Another crisis averted,’ she thought. She picked up her coffee mug and made her way to the office to await Giles’ call.

Ch. 13: Reflections

Buffy made her way upstairs after her call with Giles. She hadn’t bothered to tell him about the confrontation the night before. ‘No need to add to his stress,’ she thought. And, she sure didn’t tell him about the slayer dream from last night either. He would have been on the first plane to see her to make sure that she was ok, and she didn’t want to have to explain her latest battle scar. She needed him to concentrate on that prophecy he got from Wolfram & Hart. A slight shudder went through her at the thought. ‘Can’t believe Angel thinks he’s accomplishing something in that evil place. I hope he knows what he’s doing.’ Giles had finished translating the text, and came up with a near exact translation that Wesley had, but wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He was going to do some further research to see if he could get a better understanding of what it all meant. As of now; though, he didn’t think it had anything to do with Buffy, so she could relax a bit.

Buffy went into her bedroom, keeping quiet so as not to disturb the sleeping vampire sprawled out on her bed. She crossed over to the bathroom and closed the door. Gingerly, she shrugged out of her robe letting it fall to the floor. Buffy ignored the pain once more as she slowly slipped out of the shirt. Standing behind the bathroom door she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, naked except for the bandages covering her midsection. ‘Man, I look a mess.’

She turned away from the mirror to get the scissors out of the bathroom drawer. Placing the scissors at the top of the bandage, she slowly cut a straight line through the dressing. Afterwards, she put the scissors on the counter then slowly pealed the bandage away from her wound. Turning back to the mirror, she got a good look at the cut on her midsection. Thirty stitches (yep, she counted them) protruded from where her skin had mended itself. ‘At least the wound’s closed. I was wondering there for a minute.’ She would have Spike remove the stitches once he woke up. She took stock of the various bruises on her body, most of those showing the final color stages of a bruise. The only one that looked bad was the bruise that surrounded her cut. This she eyed warily. It was more blue than purple, its shape almost symmetrical to the cut. ‘Weird.’

With a sigh, she turned away from the mirror and cut on the shower. ‘Nothing like a nice, hot shower to help heal all the aches and pains.’ Buffy stayed under the pounding spray until all the hot water was gone, then reluctantly shut off the taps, and climbed out. She toweled herself off then squatted down to reach for the robe she had discarded on the floor. She slipped the robe over her naked body, loosely belting it, then walked back out into her bedroom. Spike was still asleep, so she grabbed her journal out of her chest and curled up into the chair to write.

I had a slayer dream last night, and it scares me. Although, it wasn’t really a dream, so much as a vision I had long ago. I dare not tell anyone about it. Everyone would worry, and I can’t take that right now.

I’m not being honest. And I said I would always be honest here. I’m not scared, I’m angry. Haven’t I done enough? I’m not alone in my fight anymore. There are girls like me all over the world now. I’m not ready to die! I want to see Dawn graduate from high school, then go on to college. I want to be there when she gets married. I want to hold my little nieces and nephews. Dammit, I just got Spike back. I want time with him. Time to make up for that horrible year when I was brought back. Time to tell him, show him, how much I love him. It’s just not fair!

Tears slipped unchecked down her face as she continued to write, pouring her heart and soul into her journal. When her grief, anger, and frustration were spent, she stopped writing and closed her journal and put it back in her chest. She quickly washed her face in the bathroom then threw some clothes on so she could get some movies for tonight.

Buffy scrawled a quick note for Spike, letting him know where she was going, then made her way downstairs. She grabbed some money from the desk in the front hall before making her way outside to complete her errands.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike awoke about a half hour after Buffy had left, to a quiet room. ‘No heartbeat. Slayer must be downstairs,’ he thought. He glanced over to the nightstand and noticed a folded slip of paper with his name on it. He opened it and read:

Spike,

I told Dawn we would have a movie night since I’m not allowed to patrol tonight. I’ve gone out to get a few movies and to put in an order for some pizzas for tonight at the local pizzeria. I shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of hours. Can you do me a favor and work with the girls today?

Buffy

Spike grinned as he read the first line. He could just picture her pouting as she wrote that. He groaned when he read the second line. ‘Movie night? Bloody hell! More like sappy, chick flick night.’ He perked up a bit when he realized he could cuddle with the slayer while she watched the flick. He scrambled out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Leaving the room, he climbed the stairs to the third floor, listening to the noise coming from the training room. As he got close, the noise stopped. All he heard was the accelerated heartbeats of the slayers.

He opened the door and noticed everyone was facing him, weapon at the ready. A devilish smile transformed his features.

“Felt me coming, didja?” A few nods. “Good!”

“Now, get ready for some real fun. Lose the weapons. We’re gonna work on a little hand-to-hand today.” The girls replaced their weapons and formed a circle around him. Spike took up a fighting stance. The girls followed his lead.

“Now, attack!” Without any further prompting, ten girls rushed the master vampire.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy walked into the house with a small stack of movies under one arm and a delivery receipt for pizza in the other hand. She placed the receipt and keys on the desk and walked into the living room to deposit the movies for viewing later. It was early yet, so she made her way to the third floor to check on Spike and the girls. Various grunts, groans, and crashes filtered out of the room. When she got to the top of the stairs, she could make out some of Spike’s snarky comments directed at some of the less agile girls. A smile crossed her lips. ‘Just like old times,’ she thought, as she made her way down the hallway.

Suddenly, a thud, louder than the others, resounded through the room. A yelled, “Bloody Hell!” and a “Dammit, Slayer!” quickly followed. Buffy stood at the door leaning against the doorjamb, taking in the scene. Buffy’s hand covered her mouth, stifling her giggles. Spike lay in an upside down heap against the far wall. Her girls formed a semi-circle around him, positioned in a defensive pose, waiting for him to get up. He kicked his feet over so he could sit on his butt. His eyes locked with Buffy’s. She dropped the hand that was covering her face and sucked her lips into her mouth to hide her smile. Her eyes still twinkled with mirth, however.

“Do you give up, Spike?” Buffy asked, laughingly.

“Bloody hell, woman. It’s your damn fault ‘m slumped ass over end here.”

“Me? All I did was walk up the stairs. Not my fault, me showing up here distracted you. You’re the master vampire, right?”

“’An don’t you forget it!” he blustered, mock-sternly.

Buffy spoke to the girls saying, “Good job, guys. Why don’t you hit the showers then get ready for your lessons. I know it’s a bit early, but since you knocked Spike to his butt, you deserve a little break. Oh, by the way, tonight’s movie night, no patrolling. Attire is pj’s and bring a pillow and some blankets.” A few girls cheered at this pronouncement. Slowly, the girls filed out of the room to the floor below so they could get showered and changed.

Spike stood up and walked towards Buffy.

“Feelin’ better, luv?”

“Yeah. I need you to pull my stitches out for me. The wound has closed over. Got one hell of a bruise, though.” Grumbling. “Oh, and did I mention that it itches?”

Chuckling, he walked by her side down to her room.

Ch. 14: Dinner & A Movie
 

If someone had told him that he would ever be sitting in a living room with a slayer draped over him, half asleep, and eleven other girls laid out on the floor around him watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, he would have laughed his bloody head off. Then, he would have staked the wanker for saying it. But, here he now was, watching some blond chick “personalizing” some guy’s home. The girls were laughing uproariously; Spike just cringed inwardly. ‘The things I do for the slayer,’ he thought.

At least the entire night hadn’t been a total sap-a-thon. The pizza had arrived around six and everyone ate that while watching The One. Pretty interesting flick, if a little farfetched. The girls took pity on him and played another action movie after that one before they settled into the “chick flicks.” That’s the point where the slayer had drifted into la la land. He only wished he could join her and ease his suffering. Unfortunately, his sleep schedule didn’t allow him to nod off at only eleven at night even though the movie was bloody awful. Ah, well. After this show, he’d beg off, citing Buffy’s sleepiness. He’d dare anyone to comment on that remark. Grinning at the thought, he once more turned his attention to the antics playing out on the screen.

As soon as the movie ended, he cradled the sleeping slayer in his arms and stood up. He headed for the opening that led back to the main hall. Without turning around and while still walking he said, “I’ll just take Sleeping Beauty up to bed now. You guys finish ‘yer movie fest.”

Dawn flashed a wicked grin and said, “You could always come back down and watch another one with us after you put Buffy to bed. We could take an intermission until you get back.” Spike glanced back upon hearing that comment from the ‘Bit. When he saw the look on her face, he mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like “sod off” before heading out of the room. Dawn’s chuckle sounded softly behind him.

~*~*~*~*~

“Have a nice nap, luv?” Spike knew she wasn’t asleep because he had heard her heart rate slowly increase towards the end of the movie. He had been tempted to get up and leave with her right then, but didn’t want to have a blushing slayer on his hands. He settled her softly on top of the bed and looked down at her face. Buffy slowly blinked her eyes awake and tried to fake a yawn. Spike wasn’t buying it.

“Vampire hearing, pet. Knew you’ve been awake for a while.” A chagrined look crossed her face. “Woulda’ left before the movie was over, but didn’t want to shock the kiddies.”

“Oh, you’re bad!” she said, while a blush lit up her face. Reaching behind her, she grabbed a pillow and threw it at him before he had a chance to block it. The pillow bounced off his forehead, disrupting his slicked-back platinum hair. She giggled when she saw some of his hair start to curl up and frame his face. Personally, she thought he looked adorable when his hair did that, but he’d have a fit if he heard his name and adorable uttered in the same sentence.

He looked at her in mock astonishment before slowly reaching down to pick the pillow up off the floor. A wicked gleam came into his eye as he slowly stalked his prey waiting warily on the bed. He heard her heart rate accelerating then was hit with the smell of her arousal. Buffy didn’t know if she should grab another pillow to defend herself or lay back and wait eagerly for Spike to pounce. She licked her suddenly dry lips in anticipation, watching Spike’s eyes flare in reaction. Halfheartedly, she reached for a pillow behind her, but he stopped her, leaning in close before whispering in her ear, “very bad, pet.” His words flooded her senses; she could feel her panties getting drenched at that remark. She moaned as he trailed his tongue around the outer shell of her ear before standing back up to divest himself of his t-shirt. When that slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, he brought his hands to the fly of his jeans, undoing the top button and slowly lowering the zipper. His cock suddenly sprang free from its confinement. The jeans were quickly removed from his lean hips, sliding down his legs, before he stepped out of them. Then he stood before Buffy in all his naked glory.

Buffy had sat up to perch on her knees while Spike had taken off his clothes. As he stood there looking at her, her hands came up to remove her pajamas.

“No,” he whispered. Her hands stilled on the top button. “Let me.”

A soft sigh escaped her lips and she slowly dropped her hands, nodding slightly. Spike walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down. He reached up and tucked an errant lock behind her ear. He then trailed his fingers down her ear, along her neck, making a path on her body to where her top came together over her chest. With exquisite care, he used one hand to undo the buttons of her top. He could hear the slayer’s heart pounding in her chest, felt her breath hitch in her throat. When the last button came undone he trailed his fingers back up her body along the slight opening that he had made. Her body quivered at his touch while his fingers traced a cool path up to her neck. His other hand came off the bed to works its way under her top to caress her exposed shoulder. Both hands softly kneaded her shoulders from her neck outward to her arms, allowing the top to glide effortless down her arms. Reaching behind her, he grabbed the top with one hand-moving it out of the way – while with the second, he gently encouraged her to fall back against the pillows behind her. He dropped her top on the floor and stretched out alongside her.

Spike brought his thumb up to brush lightly over her slightly parted lips. He own lips soon followed the path of his thumb. Open-mouthed, he brushed his lips back and forth across Buffy’s. His tongue traced its way around her lips before sucking her bottom lip into his mouth. She moaned, and that was all the invitation he needed. His tongue slipped inside her mouth to languidly explore the inner recesses of her mouth, before dueling with her own. Her hands came up around his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss. He broke away, panting needless, resting his forehead against hers. Once more under control, he slid down along her body. His fingers played lightly over her ribcage and down along her side. He took in the laceration that had slowly healed on her stomach. A faint line was the only scar, but the bruise had not gone away. In fact, it looked worse. Spanning out from the oblong-ish blue bruise were spidery blue veins. They reached almost to the underside of her breasts on the top and to the dark curls that covered her womanhood on the bottom. It brought a frown to his face.

Sensing his hesitation, Buffy opened her eyes and looked at him, puzzled as to why he was frowning.

“Does it hurt?” he asked as he trailed butterfly-soft fingertips along the scar.

“No. Not really.”

“You sure?”

“More than sure,” she replied as she grabbed his hand from the scar and pulled it up towards her breast. Taking the hint, he stopped talking and got back to the task of making love to his woman.

While his hand cupped her breast, using his thumb to lightly brush back and forth over the nipple, his mouth tended to the other. His tongue circled the areola a few times causing the nipple to harden even more. Then he began lightly flicking her nipple before sucking it into his mouth. A low moan slipped from Buffy’s lips and her hands fisted into the bed covering. Wanting to be fair, his mouth released the one nipple before settling on the other to give it the same loving attention. With a last gentle tug of his blunted teeth, he released the puckered bud to slowly make his way down her body.

He could smell her arousal coming off of her in waves as he settled himself between her legs. He leaned in close to inhale deeply, his tongue flicked out for a quick taste. Buffy’s hips came off the bed at the slight contact. Spike had played her body so well that she was teetering on orgasm. She thought she would die is she couldn’t feel that sweet release. Spike could feel the tension in her body and decided to ease a little of her suffering. He brushed two fingers over her slick passage getting them nice and wet. Then, he pushed them into her opening as his mouth clamped down on her nub and pulled. With a started cry, she came instantly. Spike removed his fingers to replace them with his tongue, lapping up the slayer’s essence. When her tremors died down, he gave one last lick and stopped. Then, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. ‘Almost as good as her blood,’ he thought.

Buffy watched through half-lowered eyes as Spike stuck his fingers in his mouth. Seeing his pleasure in her taste was making her hot all over again. She wanted more. Now. She started to sit up just as Spike pulled his fingers out of his mouth and looked at her. His piercing gaze stopped her, and she froze, head inches above her pillow.

“Uh uh, pet. Just lie back.” With a frustrated pout, she did as he asked.

Spike sat up again, still within her parted legs, and grabbed one of her legs. Using both of his thumbs, he massaged her foot for a few minutes before he bent over and began trailing kisses up her leg. Her breath hitched in her throat as he neared the curls at the apex of her legs. She shivered in anticipation, waiting to feel his tongue on her clit again. He teased her softly, his breath blowing across her damp curls. Abruptly, he sat up again to start the same ministrations to her other leg. A quick massage, then his tongue and lips were gliding kisses up her opposite leg. Buffy was going crazy! Again his mouth was hovering above her mound. She was going to die if he didn’t take her into his mouth. Just when she thought she could stand the suspense any more, she felt his cool tongue along her slit, sliding up and down. Her hips flew off the bed, her head fell back into the pillows, and the veins stood out at her neck, as the skill of Spike’s mouth once more worked its magic.

Pressure began to build inside Buffy once more and she attempted to raise her hips to seek friction against his face that would enable her to tumble over the edge, but Spike stopped before she obtained that sweet release. Sliding up on his knees in between Buffy’s parted legs, he lifted her hips, positioned his cock at her slick opening and slid home. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt. Both of them let out a groan of pleasure. He tenderly lifted her body up off of the bed so that she was sitting in his lap facing him, mindful of the healing injury on her stomach. Spike swung his legs out from under him, sitting on the end of the bed, his feet balanced on the floor. Grabbing her hips, he pushed her body back until just the tip of his cock was left inside her opening before plunging once more in her welcoming heat. Ignoring her mewling pleas of “harder” and “faster,” he made love slowly to his slayer, conscious of the expanding bruise on her stomach. Buffy gave up trying to urge him on, and let him set the pace. She reveled in his gentle loving, feeling cherished in his embrace. Her orgasm took her completely by surprise, crashing over her in seemingly endless waves. Her inner muscles squeezing his cock urged him to his own release, and with one final thrust, Spike spilled his cool seed in her welcoming body.

Ch. 15: Blood Ties
 

Spike watched as Buffy slept peacefully by his side. His tender lovemaking had her drifting off to sleep moments after he had slipped out of her warm body and cradling her to his side. Assured that she was sleeping deeply, he tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and brushed a light kiss to her cheek. Carefully, so as not to awake her, he slid from bed. He donned his black jeans and made his way to the bedroom door; he had a few calls to make. He made his way swiftly, but quietly, downstairs so as not to disturb the girls in the living room. Although, with the giggles he heard emanating from the room, Spike was doubtful that they would hear him.

His first call was to Giles. He wanted to check up on how the translation was going. ‘Midnight here, only eleven there. Giles should still be up,’ he thought to himself. The phone was picked up before the second ring had a chance to finish. An annoyed, “’ello!” sounded in his ear.

“Rupert. How go things?”

“Spike! What the bloody hell…” Then, in a much more dignified voice, “Do you have any idea as to the lateness of the hour?”

“Vampire, hello? It’s only eleven there. Don’t tell me you’re in bed already, old man?” Spike chuckled softly. It was nice to be able to yank the watcher’s chain a bit. But, the seriousness of the call quickly sobered him.

“No, not at all.” Papers shifted in the background. “I’m just going back over some of my translations. I wasn’t expecting the phone to ring. Was there a particular reason for you ringing me so late?”

“I just remembered something about Buffy’s attacker from...”

“Buffy’s attacker?” Giles interrupted. “Dear God! Is she ok?”

‘Whoops...’ “Uh yeah, Rupes. She’s fine. She didn’t tell you?”

“I should say not! What happened?” Giles blustered.

“We got ambushed by some bloke. He got in a lucky blow to the slayer’s stomach. We were worried a minute ‘cuz her injuries weren’t healin’ as fast as usual. But, everything’s ok now.”

“Not healin? Spike, what’s going on? Never mind that, I’m coming there. I’ll book a flight out for first thing in the morning.” Spike could hear the nervous energy on the other end of the line.

“Rupes, she’s fine. If you come ‘ere now, she’s gonna know I told ya. Then I’ll have one brassed-off slayer to deal with. I’ll pass, ‘f it’s all the same to you. Besides, I need you there to work on that translation.”

“Yes, quite right. But, like I told Buffy this morning, I don’t think it applies to your situation.”

“Well, that’s a spot ‘f good news,” Spike replied, relieved. Getting back on track, Spike told Giles why he was calling. He quickly described the guy that hurt Buffy and the markings he bore on his face. Giles asked if he could describe them to him.

“I’m no artist. I’m gonna call Angel and see if he can whip up something. He was always good with his pencil. Whatever I’m able to get, I’ll pass on to you.” Giles agreed and said that he would wait for more information to come from either the L.A. offices or Spike. Spike hesitated before ringing off.

“Giles?”

“Yeah, Spike?”

“I don’t like this. This guy was too focused on the slayer. Obsessively so.”

“We’ll figure it out, Spike. It’ll just take some time.”

“That’s the problem, watcher. I’m not sure time is with us on this one.”

Shaking away his gloomy thoughts, Spike hung up with Giles and placed his second call. Before, asking his Grand-Sire for anything always left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he really needed Angel’s help. At times, Angel could really be a pain in his arse, but since he had been brought back, grudging acceptance had been evident in the older vampire’s demeanor. Time to test it. Blood bond was there, now to see if Angel would acknowledge it. Spike needed his help and if anyone could commit to paper what Spike described, it was Angel. After all, what was family for?

“Wolfram & Hart, how may I direct your call?” a female voice enquired.

“Get me Angel.”

Soon Harmony’s voice came over the phone. “Harmony, I need to speak with Angel.” A little elevator hold music, then Angel’s voice sounded over the line.

“This is Angel.”

Spike took a deep, calming (completely unnecessary) breath then said, “Sire, I need your help.”

Angel almost dropped the phone. ‘Oh Holy Hell!’ If he could have gotten any paler, he would have. Spike rarely, if ever, acknowledged their bond. For him to result to this, something grave must be occurring. Gripping the phone tightly, he replied, “You have but to ask, Childe.”

Spike closed his eyes for a moment, relieved that no smart remarks were forthcoming from his Grand-Sire. Slowly, he related all the events of the past few days: the battle, the slayer subsequently getting hurt, her slow healing, their combined yet unspoken fear. Angel listened without interrupting, but his demon surged to the front, anger at this unforeseen enemy hurting Buffy. He tamped it down when he heard Spike’s request.

“Can you draw what I’m describing? Maybe by figuring out what those marks on his face were, we can find out who’s behind this.”

“Hang on while I grab my tablet and pencil.” Spike let out a sigh as he heard the phone placed gently on the table. ‘That wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be.’ After a few moments, Angel came back on the line.

“Tell me what you saw,” he requested quietly. Spike complied, and for the next half-hour he described the various symbols he had seen as well as the man’s face. When Angel was finished drawing, he asked Spike for his fax number, then faxed over what he had done. They both waited on the line while the fax machine whirred to life and spat out a piece of paper. Spike walked over and grabbed it. Staring back at him was the guy that had hurt his slayer.

“Damn, Angel. It’s him. It’s bloody him!”

“I’ll give it to Wes to see if he can come up with anything.”

“Thanks. I’m going to forward mine on to Giles. He said that he translated that text but he didn’t think that it had anything to do with Buffy. But, he’s gonna keep diggin’. Maybe this will help….Angel?” A pause. “Thank you, Sire,” he said simply, once more acknowledging their connection.

“Anytime. I’m here when you need me, Childe.” Quietly, Angel disconnected their call. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his office chair. Anguish, combined with hope, played across his face. He had thought that when he had given up Conner, he would once more be alone in the world. Sure, he had his friends that came with him to Wolfram & Hart. But, they wouldn’t always be there. Once they were gone, his lonely life would stretch out endlessly before him. Spike could, at times-make that most of the times – be a pain in the ass, but he was still family. Personally, he thought Spike acted that way just to get a rise out of him – as if he did it just to take some of this endless guilt off of his shoulders. It wouldn’t surprise him. Chuckling to himself, he pushed the maudlin thoughts away and went to seek out Wes. He had to try and help his Childe out.

~*~*~*~*~

Halfway around the world, Spike slowly replaced the phone in its cradle, a slight smile forming on his lips. His Sire. Bond stated, bond claimed. He hadn’t been sure how Angel was going to react. A weight lifted when he realized that Angel acknowledged their tie as if it was a given. Spike was no longer alone.

Spike looked at the picture Angel had faxed over. Yellow flashed behind his blue eyes. After a moment, he crossed to the fax machine and sent the image to Giles. Once finished, he folded up the paper and put it in his pocket. Slowly, he made his way back upstairs.

Ch 16: Revelations
 

England

Giles’ Office, Watcher’s Council Headquarters

Giles was sitting at his desk, lost in thought. Yes, it was early on a Saturday morning. But that had never stopped him from coming in to his office to get some work done. It seemed like he spent more time here than at home anyway. Restructuring the Watcher’s Council from scratch took time and effort and wouldn’t fit into a normal workweek schedule. Besides, it not like he had plans to be anywhere else.

Ever since Spike’s call last night as his residence, he was more puzzled than ever about the text he has translated. This was why he sat leaning back in his seat, glasses held in his hand, as he absentmindedly sucked on the tip of one of the ear frames. He was going over the translation in his mind when he suddenly sat up, perched his glasses back up on his nose and reached for his discarded notebook. Quickly, he reread the translation.

“Of course,” he mumbled aloud, pausing over a word that repeated itself: the one. Then, he froze, blood rushing from his face leaving behind a pale visage. “Oh, dear God.” Scrambling out of his chair, he rushed to the bookshelf. Desperately, he began searching for the text he needed. Nimble fingers skimmed along the outer bindings of six rows worth of books before halting on the one that he needed. The book was musty from disuse, yet thick – filled with vast amounts of knowledge. So much so, that several volumes could have been written instead of just the one.

Glancing at his watch, he noted the time: 6:00 a.m. ‘Only an hour before I need to call Buffy,’ he thought as he mentally calculated the one-hour time difference. Crossing back to his desk, he set the book down, once more resuming his seat to begin a marathon research session. His earlier words to Spike came back to haunt him. Buffy seemed to be at the center of the prophecy, and if what he feared was true, so too was Spike.

~*~*~*~

Los Angeles

Wolfram & Hart Offices

At the same time Giles was researching new meanings to the text, Angel was walking through the door of Wesley’s office to check on how the research of the sketch he had dropped off earlier was coming. A clock chimed ten times, indicating the lateness of the hour, yet Angel noticed Wesley paid it no mind. He was thoroughly engrossed in the book laid out before him. Wesley hadn’t even glanced up as he gave a quick knock and walked in.

“Anything, Wes?” Angel asked.

Wesley glanced up, slightly startled as the voice broke through his concentration, just realizing that Angel was standing in his office. Recovering, he replied, “I think I’ve got a lead. Finally. I was just starting to read about it when you walked in.” He gave Angel an annoyed look for scaring him half to death. Angel just let the look roll off his back, saying nothing.

“Er, yes. Like I was saying. I just started reading. But, I can tell you those markings are for some type of protection. They allow save passage for persons from the Draemuir dimension. Sort of a means to keep them grounded here in ours.” He saw Angel open his mouth to ask the question, but cut him off saying, “And, before you even ask… No, I have no idea who or what inhabits that dimension and why they would be here. But, I am heading in the right direction now and should have something for you in a couple of hours. Hopefully.”

Angel sighed and walked over to the window, looking out at the night sky. ‘Why would someone from the Draemuir dimension be here, and what does it have to do with Buffy? Are the senior partners somehow involved?’

“… with that scroll that was delivered to me?” Wesley’s words finally penetrated Angel’s silent musings.

“Er, what was that, Wes?”

“I said. Do you think this guy’s appearance has anything to do with that scroll that was delivered here?”

“No. Spike said that Giles thought that the scroll had nothing to do with them. So, we need to concentrate on this guy and try to figure out why he went after the slayer. I’ll be back in a few hours. And, Wes?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

~*~*~*~*~

Rome

Buffy's Room

Both occupants on the bed sleep soundlessly, oblivious to the household waking up around them. For one, it was their normal sleep schedule. For the other, it wasn’t.

~*~*~*~*~

Rome

City Square

Dawn, along with the other girls, had woken up early. There was an art festival in town this weekend in addition to the weekly farmer’s market held in the square and they had all made plans to get up early and go before the crowds hit. It was because of this that the ringing phone went unanswered. That, and the two occupants sleeping upstairs who couldn’t be roused to answer it.

Dawn wasn’t worried when Buffy hadn’t shown for their jaunt. More than likely Buffy was just catching up on her sleep. A little grin came to her face as to why she would need it, but was happy because Spike was still around. Besides, the art festival was going to be here all weekend, so it wasn’t like Buffy was going to miss it if she didn’t come right now.

Wandering through the various booths, she tried to see if anything warranted “gift” status. Pretty jewelry abounded and Dawn picked out a silver ring with an amethyst stone for Buffy, and a handmade necklace for herself. She paid for her purchases than wandered off again. She stopped when she came to a local painter’s booth. She eyed his wares before noticing the painting he was currently working on. When she saw what he was working on, an idea came into her head.

“If I gave you a picture, could you paint a copy of it? Like what you’re doing there?” she asked.

“Sure. With something to go by, I could have it finished in a few hours. You could pick it up this afternoon once it dries,” the artist replied.

Squealing with delight, she reached into her purse to pull out her wallet. Opening it, she extracted a picture of her and Buffy together. It was a candid shot, taken a few years ago. Their arms were wrapped around each other and innocent smiles played across both of their faces. She couldn’t remember who took the picture, but it was her favorite. That’s why she had cut it down to size to fit in her wallet. Spike would love it as a painting. Christmas was coming; well, in another six weeks anyway. She just prayed she could keep quiet about it until then!

~*~*~*~

Rome

Buffy's Room

Spike awoke, lying on his back, about midmorning. Eyes closed, he reached his arms out hoping to encounter the slayer’s body, but knowing the space beside him would probably be empty. She was normally up and about this time of day. He smiled when his hand encountered the warm bundle lying next to him.

“Slayer, I think you overslept,” he said drowsily, eyes still closed.

He didn’t get a response. He opened his eyes at that and leaned up on one elbow to look at her. Buffy was lying on her back, her slightly pale face the only thing exposed above the sheet that covered her body. He reached out a hand to gently shake her awake. She’d be pissed that she had overslept, missing Giles’ call. His light shaking caused her to groan in her sleep. Pain not pleasure. The noise made him quickly pull back his hand. He sat up, instantly awake, eyes locked on her face.

“Buffy,” he called in a louder voice, trying to wake her with his words. When he sat up, the sheet had pulled away from her body, exposing her upper arms. His gaze locked on what he had missed a moment earlier: twin blue streaks starting to snake up between the valley of her breasts. Carefully, so as not to cause her any more pain, he slowly lifted the sheet away from her body.

“Nooo…” he moaned softly. The sheet slipped from his fingers to pool around her hips. Her upper torso was left bare to his scrutiny. The slight spidery veins of the night before had doubled in number. She looked like someone had painted a blue sun on her belly then drawn a bunch of rays outward from the circle. Some reached down to the tops of her thighs, others started to circle around her waist. More wound their way up towards her neck, not quite reaching the tops of her breasts.

She lay unresponsive to his attempts to get her to awaken. He didn’t know what to do. His bellow for Dawn went unanswered. Then he remembered; the girls were at the festival. Quickly, he jumped out of bed and threw on his jeans. Call Giles. Giles would know what to do. He raced out of the room to do just that.

Ch. 17: On My Way
 

Rome

10:30 a.m. Local Time

Spike was torn as he flew down the stairs, his feet barely skimming their surface. He wanted to stay with Buffy, but on the other hand, he had to call Giles. God, he wished Dawn were here. Why did they have to pick today to go to the festival? Racing into the office, he picked up the phone and punched the speed dial button that would ring Giles’ office. It was a good thing the number was preset in phone, his fingers were shaking so bad that he feared he would be unable to dial the number, let alone remember it. He heard the connection made then heard the telltale ringing of the extension.

“Hello,” Giles answered the phone formally. Since it was Saturday, his secretary was off leaving him to answer the phone himself.

“Giles, you’ve got to help me. It’s Buffy. She’s hurt. She won’t wake up. Why won’t she wake up?” The desperately panicked words tumbled out of his mouth leaving no room for Giles to respond. Spike was babbling and he knew it. But, it was his slayer that was lying up in that bed, completely unresponsive.

“Spike, calm down.” Giles attempted to break through Spike monologue. “Spike. Spike!! Spike!!” The third shout finally got Spike’s attention. Silence came to the line. “Now, Spike, just tell me what’s happening.”

“It’s Buffy. She won’t wake up. The sore. The bruise is spreading. I can’t make it stop. Giles, you have to make it stop,” Spike pleaded, near tears.

“Spike, listen to me. Was Buffy breathing?”

“Yes, although shallowly. Like it hurt her to breath.”

“Ok. That’s something in our favor. She’s the slayer. Whatever it is, her body is trying to fight it. What I want you to do is go back up there and stay with her. Don’t move her. But, see if you can coax her to drink something. Water would be good. See if you can try to get her to wake up and talk to you. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“I’m going to grab some stuff and be on the first flight to Rome. Have you heard anything from L.A. on Buffy’s attacker?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Ok, I’ll call them and get them to forward any information to me there. I should be there early afternoon. Can you have someone meet me at the airport?”

“I’ll try. The girls… the girls are all out at the art festival.” Spike didn’t mention that he was home alone with Buffy. He was scared and all alone.

“Well, I’ll call when I land. If nothing else, I’ll take a cab. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Hurry.” Spike didn’t even say goodbye before he hung up the phone to rush back upstairs to Buffy.

~*~*~*~*~

England

Giles’ office, Watcher’s Council Headquarters

9:30 a.m. Local Time, London

“This is Rupert Giles. I need to speak with Angel immediately. It is most urgent.” He glanced at his watch to note the time, mentally calculating the time difference. He was astonished that someone actually answered the phone at one-thirty in the morning. He had thought he would have to leave a voice message rather than actually get a human, er, someone to answer the phone.

While he waited for someone to pick up the line, Giles busied himself with gathering the books he was looking at. Putting the phone on speakerphone, he crossed over to the bookshelf and grabbed a few other texts that he thought he might need. Snatching his satchel from behind his chair, he started loaded everything inside.

“Hello,” a voice came over the speakerphone. Giles stopped what he was doing, and as someone is wont to do on a speakerphone, practically shouted, “This is Rupert Giles. I’m holding for Angel.”

“Well, hello there Rupert. Wesley here,” he replied cheerfully for someone awake at such a god-awful hour.

Giles walked back to the desk, cradling the phone to his ear, and said, “Wesley, I need to speak with Angel. It’s rather urgent.”

“Angel is out of the office right now. He had some negotiations to do with a few Kremlick demons. He’s not due back in the offices for a few hours yet.”

“Find him. Get him back immediately. I’m on my way to Rome right now. Buffy has been hurt, and it doesn’t look good. Tell Angel to get all the information he was able to come up with about Buffy’s attackers and fax it to me at her residence. I should be in Rome in a few hours time. And, Wesley?”

“Yes.”

“Hurry.” Dropping the phone back in the cradle, Giles finished gathering up the texts and papers that he might need and headed for the door. Once in his outer office, he grabbed a passing watcher-in-training and in his most authoritative tone, told her that he wanted to be on the next feasible flight out of London Heathrow airport for Rome. And to pull out all the stops. He wanted no delays. If they had to hold the plane until he got to the airport, so be it! It was time to throw a little of the Council’s weight around!

~*~*~*~*~

Los Angeles

Both Angel’s pager and cell phone went off simultaneously. Ducking to avoid the axe aimed at his head, he spun his leg out in front of him, effectively sweeping the legs out from under the Kremlick demon knocking it to its back. Reaching over him, Angel jerked the axe out of the demon’s hands, and threw it towards the far wall where it imbedded in the plaster. He then fisted his hands in the lapels of the demon’s shirt and jerked him upright, until they were almost nose-to-nose.

“I trust we’re not going to have any more problems. Correct?” The demon vigorously nodded his assent. Kremlick demons were a fierce lot, but always bowed down before superior strength. Angel exhibited that strength.

“Good. Meeting adjourned.” Angel let go of the demon’s shirt and stood up. Without a backward glance he headed towards the exit. Once outside in the hallway, he grabbed the cell phone out of his pocket. One missed call, the phone practically accused. He pushed a series of buttons, and determined that it was the office that had called him. Next, he grabbed his pager. Again he pushed a few buttons. The office again, noting Wesley’s extension. He put the pager back in his pocket and used his cell phone to make the call.

“This is Angel, put me through to Wesley’s office.”

In a matter of moments, Wesley answered the phone.

“Angel. I need you back at the office right away. I just got off the phone with Rupert. Something is happening in Rome.”

“I’ll be there in ten.” He jumped in the viper and sped off toward Wolfram & Hart. He had hung up before Wesley could get out, “Buffy’s hurt.”

Ch. 18: Convergence
 

In Flight

Somewhere over Northern Italy

Giles sat in the last row of the first class seats, pouring over the books and papers he had spread out on every available space in his little area. His lap, the tray table, and adjacent seat bore evidence of Giles in “research mode.” This ailment of the slayer did not bode well for their line. He had found some obscure passage mentioning, he thought, the First Slayer. But, he wasn’t concentrating on that right now. Currently, he was trying to find something to combat whatever had - for want of a better word - inhabited, his slayer’s body. Whatever it was had Spike worried, and Giles wasn’t one to disregard the vampire’s instincts.

He paused in his research to glance at his watch. He estimated that they would be arriving in Rome in about another thirty minutes, or so. Sighing, he went back to the book laid out on his lap, once more becoming engrossed in his research. Time was of the essence, and every moment spent researching was one not squandered away.

~*~*~*~*~

Los Angeles

1:45 a.m. Pacific Standard Time

Angel entered Wesley’s office to see both him and Fred frantically gathering up loose papers that were scattered haphazardly around the office. They paid him no mind as they scooped up discarded books, closing them and stacking them neatly on Wesley’s desk.

“What’s going on?” Angel asked.

Fred and Wesley abruptly halted their actions, guilt mixed with sorrow colored their features. Tearing their gazes from Angel, they glanced at each other. A silent question played across both their faces. In the end, Fred nodded and turned back to Angel.

“It’s Buffy,” she said. “She’s been hurt-” Fred’s voice trailed off at the look on Angel’s face. She never was much of a “news-giving” type of person, and she semi-stuttered through her brief tale. “Giles called Wes. He said he was taking the next flight out to Rome. Apparently, Spike had called him saying that the slay, er, Buffy wouldn’t wake up. Giles needs any information that we’ve been able to come up with on Buffy’s attacker in hopes of determining what he has done to her. We’ve been gathering everything we have since he called.” She gestured to the mountain of books and papers stacked on Wesley’s desk.

“Finish grabbing what you need and bring it with you. We’re on a flight to Rome as soon as the jet can get us cleared for takeoff.” A blank mask had descended on Angel’s face as Fred had given her explanation. A thousand thoughts and questions were running through his mind, but he couldn’t dwell on them. Right now he had to stay focused. ‘Get the stuff, get on the plane.’ Once he was in the air was soon enough for him to dwell on the situation.

Fred and Wes just nodded, knowing it was a given they would be heading to Rome. And Wes, wanting to get a head start, had placed the call to get the plane ready as soon as he had hung up with Angel. “Angel,” Wes said, stopping Angel’s departure from his office.

Angel froze, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I’ve taken the liberty of forewarning the pilots. They should be there with a flight plan approved by the time we arrive. We’re already packed. We were just gathering up what we needed here.”

Angel glanced back, grief evident on his features, and gave a brief nod. “Thanks, Wes. Let me grab a quick bag and I’ll meet you in the garage.” Without another word he walked out of the office to grab his things.

He made quick work of packing a duffle bag. He didn’t care that he was traveling light. He wouldn’t have bothered at all, but the fight with the Kremlick demon had left him with a ripped pair of pants and a ripe shirt. Quickly, he discarded his stale clothes, replacing them with something clean. He would have taken a shower to get rid of the battle stench, but he had already taken up enough time changing his clothes and stuffing the duffle bag with others. He figured he would meet Fred and Wes about the same time in the garage, if he left his room right now. So he did. Grabbing his bag, he made his way down to the garage level to the waiting limousine.

The ride to the airport was completed in silence, each of the occupants in the back lost in their own thoughts. Words right now seemed, somehow, inappropriate. At least the ride wasn’t long, and the awkward silence was soon a distant memory. The limousine pulled right onto the tarmac, a few feet from the company jet. As the car rolled to a stop, the pilot came out to greet the trio.

“Mr. Angel, our flight plan has been approved and we can leave as soon as you are all on board and your luggage is stowed,” the pilot said, by way of greeting.

Not bothering to correct the pilot about his name, he just said, “Then, let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later, the Wolfram & Hart company jet was streaking its way eastward towards Rome, the night lights of Los Angeles a distant blur.

~*~*~*~*~

Rome

4:00 p.m. Local Time

Giles was brought out of his silent musings as his plane taxied at the Rome Leonardo da Vinci Airport. He had repacked his books and papers when the call came that they were beginning their descent. Afterwards, his mind had drifted, replaying the information he had gleaned from his books over and over in his mind.

The pilot’s voice came over the intercom welcoming them to the great city of Rome and announcing that travelers were now allowed to turn on cell phones, and other electronic devises, as well as voicing other useless ramblings that no one really paid any attention to. As soon as humanly possible, the passengers stood up to prepare for disembarking. Giles had reached into his internal breast pocket of his coat and turned his phone on as soon as the pilot’s announcement started. By the time the pilot had finished his speech, Giles had gathered up his things and was ready to make his way towards the exit. First class seats sure came in handy at times!

As he was making his way up the gangplank, his cell phone went off. Without stopping his forward progress to the main terminal, he deftly snagged the ringing phone out of his pocket. He clicked the “ok” button and rattled off a hello. It was Dawn. Both she and Angelina were waiting to meet him at the baggage claim turnstiles. Oh, and Spike wanted her to tell him that Buffy had woken up for a few minutes and appeared to be sleeping better now. And, that it was really cool that Giles had decided to take a brief holiday to check up on his girls. And, wouldn’t it be such a surprise to Buffy, even though she came down with some sort of flu bug last night. Giles paused momentarily at that cryptic message. Obviously the vampire didn’t tell Dawn the truth about Buffy’s condition. Well, he wouldn’t be the one to mention it either.

Giles met up with the girls a few minutes later. He passed off his carry-on to Angelina so that he could stand by the spinning rack – along with everyone else – to wait for his bags to come up the ramp. Someone was smiling down on him, because his bags were one of the first to be spit out by the conveyor belt. Lifting his bags off the revolving platform, he engaged the wheels and moved off towards customs. With his credentials, he was soon passing out into the open air, followed by Dawn and Angelina. Dawn had just seen Francesca drive by, so they would need to wait a few moments for her to pass back by.

“Geez, Giles! This bag is heavy. Don’t you ever leave your books at home?” Dawn asked cheekily.

“Well, yes. Er, that is, I was working on a little research, when Spike called me about visiting-“ Giles began, trying to lie his way through an explanation. When slight shock registered on Dawn’s face, he pushed on with his story. “Anyway, Spike said that Buffy was feeling a mite lonely, and could I perhaps drop in for a few days. Maybe surprise her. And, it’s been a while since I’ve been here. Could call it a Council’s check-up visit. See how things are running and such,” he babbled on. Dawn’s face registered even more shock/surprise, if such a thing were possible.

Sighing, Giles just said, “No, Dawn, I don’t ever leave my books at home. It’s a watcher’s dictum.”

Shock disappeared from the teenager’s face, then she rolled her eyes. “You could have just said that. No reason for the elaborate ‘Spike wanted me to come, yada, yada, yada, tale.’ As if.” She snorted. ‘Spike calling Giles. Please!’

“Quite right.” Giles gave a mental sigh of relieve that Dawn seemed to have dropped the subject. He hadn’t however, and his first order of business was a nice, long chat with a certain peroxide vampire.

~*~*~*~*~

Rome

Earlier that day (about 2:00 p.m.)

Spike sat beside the bed, holding Buffy’s hand, his eyes roaming up and down her still form. Her breathing had evened out somewhat, and her heart rate wasn’t as shallow as it had been earlier. ‘That’s it, slayer. Fight it!’ he thought. They stayed like that for about an hour, neither figure moving, except for the steady rise and fall of Buffy’s chest.

Spike thought it was music to his ears when his slayer let out a slight groan. His gaze locked on her face searching for any signs of movement. A few minutes later, he was rewarded when her brows twitched in a way that indicated she was trying to wake up but couldn’t figure out where she was and why. Her eyelashes began to flutter, then finally open. She moved her head slightly so that her glazed look could bring Spike’s face in to view. Buffy tried to open her mouth to speak but she felt like whatever moisture she once had in her mouth and throat was gone.

“No, luv. Don’t try to talk. Just rest and let that slayer body of yours do its job.” She didn’t understand, he could tell she didn’t, so he tried to explain. “Your bruise is spreading. Gave me quite a scare when you wouldn’t wake up earlier. Giles is flying in and will be here in a few hours. He should be able to whip up something to get you all better. You just rest now. Ok?” Buffy just closed her eyes and gave a slight nod, drifting into an easier sleep. Spike stood up and brushed the hair off her face. He had heard the girls entering the front door a moment ago, and he needed to go confront Dawn before she found out about the seriousness of Buffy’s condition.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike walked into the kitchen, forcing a nonchalance he did not feel. He nodded to a few girls that were fixing themselves some lunch and went to grab some blood out of the refrigerator. He poured some into a mug and popped it into the microwave. While he waited for it to warm up, he turned to Dawn.

“Where’s Buffy,” she asked, before he had time to say anything.

“Uh, she came down with some sort of flu bug. I came down to find some soup for her,” Spike tried to lie. He couldn’t remember a time when the slayer had ever been sick, and he hoped Dawn wouldn’t call him on it. She didn’t seem to question his response; rather, she got up and went to the panty to pull out a can of chicken noodle.

“So, that’s why she didn’t come with us this morning. She’s gonna be so upset she missed the art festival. Hopefully, she’ll be better later, and can maybe go tomorrow,” Dawn said as she walked over to Spike to hand him the can. He gave her a quick, but tight hug. If she noticed he seemed a tad more clinging, she didn’t mention it.

“Thanks, Dawn. She’s sleeping right now, so I’ll leave this on the counter for later,” Spike replied. “Oh, hey! Guess who’s coming to visit us for a few days?”

Dawn pulled out of his embrace to look up at him. “Who?”

“Giles.”

“Really? Wow! It’s been like months since he’s been here! Him showing up should help motivate Buffy into kicking that nasty flu bug,” she responded, beaming a smile up at him.

“Yeah. Think you can go pick him up at the airport?”

“Sure. Not a problem. When does he get in?”

“You’ll have to call his office for his flight information. I was upstairs when the phone rang a bit ago. You have the number, right?”

“Yep. I’ll go call now then take a few girls with me to the airport to meet him.”

“Thanks, ‘Niblet. Be careful.”

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