Chapter 14

 Tara hesitated at the door; she could hear a lot of banging, crashing and cursing. She sent a silent prayer to Gaia to protect her from crabby vampires and then pushed the door open. “Oh!”

“Alright there, Glinda?” Spike was on all fours with his head under Buffy’s bed. There were clothes everywhere and all of Buffy’s dresser drawers were laid out on the floor

Tara admired Spike’s butt. ‘Pity I’m gay…’ She edged into the cluttered room. Anne and William watched Spike solemnly from the safety of one of the drawers. She reached down and gently scruffled both of them on the head. “Lost something, Spike?” She grinned as a pair of furious blue eyes peered at her from over a shoulder.

“No. Go way,” Spike huffed and then stuck his head back under the bed. “Haven’t you got a book to read downstairs?”

“Nope, Wesley has disappeared with it. He mumbled something about cross referencing it with some texts at the Magic Box.”

“Right.” Spike tossed a pair of leather trousers over his shoulder. “Never realised the Slayer was such a bloody horder!”

Tara shrugged and folded the jeans that had landed at her feet. “It’s a girl thing.”

Spike crawled backwards and then sank back onto his haunches. He eyed the grinning girl, who dropped gracefully to the floor and crossed her legs. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Making room for the Watcher,” Spike mumbled, suddenly fascinated with his hands.

“That’s nice of you.” Tara waited for the explosion.

Spike looked up and frowned, opened his mouth to deny her statement and then sighed. He shook his head and then grinned. “Fighting a losing battle aren’t I? You lot are never gonna believe me are you?”

“Nope.” Tara gave him a lopsided grin. “Soo, I guess you’re moving Buffy into her Mom’s room.”

“Yeah, thought it would be good for her. You know, a fresh start. Somehow I don’t think Red’ll be welcome for a while…” Spike watched Tara closely, realising he may have upset her.

She reached over and patted his knee. “It’s alright. I think Willow has a long way to go before Buffy’ll forgive her. I think t...that if we can get Dawnie back it’ll go a long way to helping Buffy accept Willow again. I just hope we can…”

Spike interrupted her, “You know, the one thing I learned in all my experiences fighting both with and against the Scoobies, is that they always win. Even if we can’t get Red back, we will get Dawn back. I swear.” He raised a dark brow at the gentle Wiccan. “So none of that, alright, Columba?”

Tara nodded. “Okay. So need some help?”

“Yeah. I was gonna go up into the attic and see if there are any boxes. Can I chuck ‘em down to you?”

“Let’s get this done.” Tara stood, reached down and pulled Spike to his feet.

“Spike! Ow!” Tara rubbed the top of her head and squinted up at the hole in the ceiling.

Spike poked his head out. “Sorry, luv.” He disappeared and a flurry of folded boxes landed at Tara’s feet, joining the others that had hit her on the head. Spike then leapt down gracefully. “You ready to go in there?”

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with. Umm, any idea where you are going to store Willow’s stuff?” Tara pushed a couple of boxes with her foot.

“Dunno. Maybe we could drop it off at her parents’ house.” Spike suggested as he pushed open the master bedroom door, ushering Tara in before him.

“Thanks. I, uh, don’t know if they’ll take it,” Tara mumbled. “She hasn’t really had much to do with them in a while.”

“Too bad. They’re her parents.” Spike paused for a moment. He looked over at Tara and saw the doubt on her face. “Oh for Christ’s sake! They’re her mother and father!” He started packing and then stopped. He looked over at Tara and frowned. “Too bloody bad, they’ll have to deal with it.”

Tara joined Spike in folding and packing Willow’s clothes, trying hard not to cry or breathe in Willow’s sweet perfume. “I’ll come with you and talk to them...” She burst into tears as she held Willow’s red Muppet shirt to her chest.

“Oh, pet. None of that… Come here.” Spike pulled the weeping girl into his arms and rocked her. “S’alright, Spike’s got yah. Come on now.” He gently stroked her soft blonde hair. “Now deep breath, luv, come on, I can’t stand to see a pretty girl cry!” Spike crooned as he comforted the distraught girl. He pulled the offending item out of Tara’s arms and eyed it dubiously, “Then again, I’d probably cry if I saw that! It looks like the skin of Anuppet Demon. When did Red skin one of those?” Spike tossed it into a box. “What, didn’t get a smile? Bugger…”

“I…I… Miss her, sooo much,” Tara hiccupped into his chest. “I ca… can’t believe she has fallen soo far! It’s my fault, I should have helped her more, tried to do something, anything!”

“Oh, Columba! You can’t say that. Red was already on her way there. Nothing you or any of the Scoobies coulda done to stop her.” Spike leant against the headboard pulling Tara back with him. “I know you tried, so none of that, she just wasn’t ready to listen.” He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “I’ve been around the block a good few times. Seen a lotta things that’d turn your hair white…”

Tara chuckled through her tears and reached up a hand, tugging gently on his bleached hair. She blinked away her tears. “So I can see.”

“None of that, missy!” Spike mock growled at her. “What I was trying to say was, Willow was pretty much destined to bugger it all up. Though I thought she woulda hurt herself in some mystical backlash, not take my girl away from us…” His eyes flashed emerald green for a second. “Red is playing with some serious magicks. Things that more experienced players wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot barge pole! Raisings are something very few attempt, let alone succeed at.” Spike sighed. “She’s bloody lucky her head didn’t explode or something equally nasty.”

“I know…” Tara rubbed her wet face on Spike’s shoulder. “Didn’t realise how far she had gone until, well, until she began to prepare to raise Buffy. Then I didn’t try to stop her, ‘cos we all thought Buffy was suffering in a hell dimension.”

“Never really got that train of thought myself. I mean, the Slayer fought for the Powers, ‘course she was going to heaven…” he trailed off.

“Willow convinced us all. I guess it was easier to go along with her.”

“I know, pet. Love makes us all blind.”

“She has an amazing power,” Tara commented.

“Yeah, but I think she has to learn that with power comes great responsibility, something Red hasn’t got. She uses her magic to make herself feel better. Or, as she has said in the past, to fix things.” Spike cleared his throat.

“That’s why she abuses the magicks. I tried to teach her.” Tara sniffed, and then rubbed her nose.

“Luv, it’s something she has to want to learn for herself. I think Red’s going to have to do it the hard way, so don’t blame yourself.” Spike chucked Tara gently under the chin. “Alright?” Tara nodded. “Right, let’s get this stuff packed up and the Slayer squared away.”

Tara uncurled herself from Spike’s side and sat up. “Okay.”

“You up to helping swapping the beds around?”

“Sure. Um, Spike?”

“What, pet?”

“Thanks.” Tara gave him a watery smile.

Spike looked shocked for a split second and then grinned. “Anytime, luv. Anytime!” Spike tried to ignore the warmth spreading through his undead heart, he ducked his head and avoided Tara’s gaze.

“Hi, Mom.” Buffy sank to her knees and reached over to stroke the white marble headstone. Anya stood under the tree that Buffy and Angel had sat under the night they had buried her mother.

“I came… I came to say I’m sorry. I let you down.” Buffy rested her hot face against the cool marble; her fingers traced the lettering on the tombstone, lingering on the words ‘mother to Buffy and Dawn.’ Her fingers trembled. “Oh, Mommy! I am so sorry! I lost Dawnie.” She began to cry. Anya rushed over and sank to her knees, wrapping herself around Buffy’s shaking back.

The two young women sat in the quiet cemetery next to Joyce’s grave. Both wrapped in each other’s arms, crying for Dawn.

“She still asleep?” Wesley walked into the Magic Box and carefully relocked the door behind them. He tucked the keys that Anya had given to him that morning back into his pocket.

“She is. Though I think for a moment she was awake, but I am not sure.” Groo turned from his position in the doorway to the training room to face Wesley.

“Really? Interesting.” Wesley quickly walked over and peered into the dark room. He watched Willow’s sleeping form intently for a few moments. “Look, I can take over for a while. Why don’t you go back to Buffy’s house, get some rest, a shower and some food.”

Groo smiled in relief. “That would be good. Can you manage on your own?”

Wesley nodded. “Certainly. I believe Anya and Buffy are coming here once they have left the hospital. Can you find your way back?”

“Of course,” Groo answered.

“Right, well I am going have a read through this.” Wesley pulled out the tome that Whistler had given Tara.

“What is that? Will it aid in the recovery of Dawn?” Groo moved over and examined the leather bound book. “It has great power, I can sense it.”

“Really? Here.” Wesley handed over the small book.

Groo examined it carefully. He opened it and looked through the contents. “I don’t recognise any of the text. Do you?”

“Yes, it a combination of Latin and French. However, I needed to see if there was a copy of Destarte’s Almanac here. I think it may help in the translation…” Wesley trailed off as he wandered over to the fully packed shelves.

“Maybe there is something up there?” Groo pointed to the loft, where Anya and Giles had stored the more rare and unusual texts.

“Thank you.” Wesley carefully climbed the ladder.

“I will return later.” With that, Groo let himself out of the shop and disappeared down Main Street.

Within seconds, Wesley was immersed in his research. He carried down several large books and set them carefully on the research table. He sat quietly, his eyes flickering from one tome to the other, making neat notes onto a pad that he had brought with him. Willow shifted restlessly in her sleep, forgotten by Wesley as he became absorbed in the texts.

“You ready to go, pet?” Spike nudged Tara gently with his foot.

The tired girl looked up at Spike and frowned. “It’s not fair. You’re not even out of breath!” 

“Vamp stamina, luv. Come on, I want to get some stuff at the mall.”

“Okay! Okay, I coming.” Tara stood. “You think we should take Willow’s supplies with us? Maybe Wes can decide what to do with them.” She prodded the two overfilled boxes that sat on the bed.

“No. Leave them here. I don’t want them near Willow, she might get her hands on something and really bugger us up!” Spike disappeared down the stairs carrying the kittens, with his duster slung over his shoulder. He looked back. “Hurry up, Glinda. I need to buy some sunglasses.”  He stowed the kittens in their box in the kitchen and then plopped Miss Kitty down in with them. “Keep an eye on ‘em, alright?”

“Ready, Spike?” Tara stood waiting by the front door. Her coat tucked over her arm.

“Let’s go.” Spike pulled open the door. He hesitated briefly before stepping into the bright Californian sun and straight into Groo’s arms. “Bugger!”

“Sorry,” Groo muttered automatically, before realising it was Spike. He threw the vampire back into the house. Spike landed on the hall rug and slid backwards almost into the kitchen. “You said you weren’t going to harm yourself. You lied to me!” Groo stepped forward and planted himself in the doorway. “You will not pass”

“You arse!” Spike pulled himself up. “Bloody hell! It’s damn lucky I don’t wear underwear, ‘cos right now I’d be suffering from the mother of all wedgies!” Spike regained his equilibrium and strode over to the glowering Pylean. The shorter man glared up at Groo. “What was that for? Some sorta Pylean welcome? Because I am betting you didn’t get many visitors if you did that every time you met someone!” Spike gestured behind him, with his thumb. “One giggle, Glinda, and the cat gets it!”

Tara waved her hands and bit her lip.

“Spike, you were walking into the sun,” Groo explained.

“Yeah? Oh hang on, you don’t know.” Spike walked over to living room curtains and pulled them open. “See? I’m sun-proofed, thanks to Niblett.”

“Oh…” Groo stepped into the hallway. He nodded at Tara in greeting. “I am sorry…”

“S’alright, mate.” Spike rubbed his backside. “I appreciate the gesture. Look, we were heading out for a bit. You okay on your own?”

Groo nodded. “Indeed. I have returned to refresh myself before rejoining Wesley at the shop.”

“Right, we’ll be off then.” Spike waved goodbye as he ushered the giggling Wiccan out of the house. He hefted the two boxes of Willow’s clothing and personal items that Tara had brought down earlier, one under each arm. “Stop laughing at me!”

“Sorry, but you looked kinda funny…” Tara giggled as she got into the Desoto. Spike rolled his eyes as he headed to the trunk and offloaded the boxes before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“I will thump you!” he growled.

“Welcome to the Sunnyhell’s consumer’s Mecca…” Spike flung open the glass doors and ushered Tara into the Sunnydale Mall. ‘Just get in, find the stuff and get out!’ Spike chanted to himself as he eyed the Californian housewives suspiciously as they rushed about in a shopping frenzy. He gripped Tara by the elbow and managed to tug her out of the way of a horde of toddlers being chased by a frazzled mother. “That’s why I am glad I can never have kids.” Spike glared at the screaming chocolate-covered brats and shuddered dramatically.

“Come on, Spike.” Tara pulled him over to the escalators. “I think we need a visit to The Gap, I always thought you needed a bit of colour in your wardrobe!”

Spike glared at the laughing girl as she stood above him on the metal steps. “I will bite you!”

“Promises, promises.” Tara flicked her hair over her shoulder and as they both stepped off the escalators. Tara looked around for her shopping buddy and noticed that he had headed into Pottery Barn. Rushing to catch up with the vamp, Tara spotted a sweet ornament. “Ooh, Spike, isn’t this the cutest?” Tara held out a crystal cherub. “A little angel…”

“No! Don’t need any reminders of the Poof.” Spike pulled it out of her hands and carefully returned it to the display. He then headed over to the wrought iron candlesticks and grabbed four. Shooting off in a different direction, he located a basket.

Standing in front of the candle display, he began to indiscriminately toss various scented ones as well as plain cream church candles into his basket. He looked over at Tara. “Get shopping, luv, it’s on me. I think we all need a bit of a cheer up. And if I’m shopping in here, then I bloody well am not doing it on my own!” Once Tara had turned to get herself a basket, he casually tucked the small crystal cherub she had admired into his basket.

The next stop was a shop more to Spike’s liking that he had spotted whilst waiting for Tara. She had disappeared into an earth mother type store that no amount of pleading on her behalf had convinced him to step into. Spike had excused himself by saying he felt that demon girl would know if he had gone in there with her. The vampire was now happily restocking his music collection. Over the years, he had managed to misplace a lot, mainly when he and Dru had escaped from Prague. He also was now more interested in getting everything he liked on CD, they were more portable and had better sound.

Tara had vanished off into another store after grudgingly accepting the handful off bills he had pressed into her hand.

Humming under his breath, Spike pulled out a double CD of The Ramones’ Greatest Hits and added it to his growing pile. Moving to the Sex Pistols, he tried to suppress an excited whoop of joy, there it sat: the Holy Grail of punk. “Pretty Vacant” the live CD. He grabbed it and reverently laid it on top of the entire Clash oeuvre and his Ramones. Stopping off at the Dead Kennedy’s section, Spike sang My Way happily under his breath. After this, he needed a break from consumerism; a nice cuppa and something fill in the gaps.  

“There you are!” Tara dropped her bags next to Spike and vanished.

Spike gazed up from the cup of hot chocolate and sighed. “Great more for me to carry…” He took a big bite of his chocolate muffin and groaned happily. Spike looked up as Tara re-appeared, cradling a cup of herbal tea and some sort of energy bar. She still looked tired and unhappy, but he thought the distraction of the mall might have been good for her. “All done, pet?”

“Oh, yes. My feet ache.” Tara kicked off her sandals and wriggled her toes. Watching Spike devour his chocolate treat, she grinned lopsidedly smiled at him. She delicately sipped her tea before breaking off a small corner of the granola bar and nibbling it. “Much better. So, where to after this?”

“Home to set this lot up and then probably meet up with the Slayer at the Magic Box.” Spike tilted his head and regarded the blonde opposite him. “You gonna be okay with seeing Red?”

Tara shrugged noncommittally. “I suppose…”

“Hello?” Buffy and Anya pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet store.

“Ah, you’re back.” Wesley peered over the precious spell book that Whistler had given Tara that morning. “I have some wonderful news.”

“Really?” Buffy slipped onto a chair next to the triumphant ex-watcher. Anya stood next to Buffy, her left hand placed reassuringly on the Slayer’s shoulder.

“Well, yes.” Wesley looked down at his notes and began shuffling through them.

“This isn’t one our texts.” Anya leaned over Wesley’s shoulder and reached for the small leather bound book. “No, I don’t recognise this at all…”

“You wouldn’t. It appears that Dawn’s absence hasn’t gone completely unnoticed outside of our circle. The Powers sent a representative with this to aid in our research.” Wesley refrained from mentioning Spike’s new immunity, the vampire wanted to surprise Buffy and had asked Tara and Wesley to keep quiet.

“Who did they send?” Anya interrupted.

Wesley pulled a face at the memory of the small demon. “A rather obnoxious type, really. I believe you have come across him before, Buffy. Whistler?”

“Short, smelled funny, with a New York accent and a major ‘tude?” Buffy offered. “Met him during the Acathla incident, he wasn’t much help then. How come…”

“Whistler! I know him!” Anya interrupted. “He’s a balance demon, very good at backgammon too… Though not really the point here…” She cleared her throat and then sat down next to Wesley. “So what’s the good news?”

“That the Powers sent this.” Wesley touched the book reverently. “I’ve been translating and cross referencing all morning. It’s fascinating…”

“So, can you get Dawnie back?” Buffy asked.

“I think so. I need to fully translate the text. Tara may be of great help, there is a lot to go through but we will get there, I promise.” Wesley awkwardly patted Buffy on the shoulder. “Oof...” He grunted as Anya flung her arms around him and squeezed him hard. Before he could escape her arms, Buffy joined in and hugged him from the other side.

“Thank you!” Buffy yelped into the ex-watcher’s ear, causing Wesley to wince. He struggled free, completely flustered and rubbed his deafened ear. Buffy pouted at him. “Oops, sorry Wes…”

Rack sat in his car across from the Magic Box. He had been watching the comings and goings all morning. He had observed the Slayer and the ex-demon exit the bank and cross the street to enter the quiet store. Rack had slunk down in his seat and managed to remain unnoticed. Deciding retreat was the better form of valour; he started the car and drove off. The power broker hated leaving his girl behind but he needed to prepare. As Rack drove, he scanned the buildings, searching for an abandoned one, which he could use for the rituals.

Pulling into a side street, Rack drew up outside a burnt out storefront. He got out and began unloading the trunk. He had managed, through some of his lesser contacts, to assemble everything he needed to summon the Guardian.

Kicking the door open, he struggled into the dark, abandoned shop. He carefully laid down the box and his bag of ingredients and began to clear a space. He squinted out of the dirty window and judged that he wasn’t too far from where his Strawberry was being held.

Rack began clearing a space for his ritual. Reaching for a bottle of oil, he began to anoint a sacred circle, on top of which he scattered various blessed sands in bright colours. The power broker then grabbed hold of the bag that he had brought with him and placed it carefully into the circle. Turning back to the box, he quickly assembled the final components of the ritual.

Stripping his coat and shirt off, Rack began to carve symbols onto his torso. Reaching down, he dabbed some of the mixed sands onto his fingers and then traced the sand into the bleeding cuts. On contact with his blood, the sands glowed and then were absorbed into his system. Rack stepped into the circle and began to chant.  

I humbly beseech you to grant your follower a boon.

With my blood I make an offering.

With my soul I make the pledge.

With the blood of an innocent I bind myself to your whim.

Rack reached into the bag he had placed in the circle and withdrew a small faun. With a single flick of his wrist, he slashed it’s throat. Holding the small, struggling form above his head, Rack allowed the warm blood to coat his face and torso. Once the blood was drained, he tossed the limp body away. He sank to his knees and waited.

A swirling grey mist appeared before Rack. Gradually, it began to form into a tall figure swathed in dark blue robes, which glimmered in the faint light that filtered into the dusty room.

“Rack!” A booming voice emanated from the deep hood. “I told you not to contact me again…” The figure began to dissolve.

“Wait! Galerus, can’t you sense why I called you here?” Rack called after the disappearing figure. Galerus hesitated for a spilt second. He raised his head and scented the ether.

“She is pledged to you?” The guardian’s deep voice echoed around the store.

“She is. I need a token from you to escape her friends.” Rack shifted slightly on his knees.

“The Slayer. Yes, I can sense her and the others.” Galerus span and stalked over to his supplicant. “Why should I help you?”

“Because Strawberry is so very powerful and I am happy to share,” Rack offered.

“The Slayer’s attention is something I can live without.” Galerus began to disappear. “However, seeing that I will not be around …” As he vanished, a small silver token dropped to the floor.

“Thank you, Guardian.” Rack grabbed the token and tucked it away safely before he collapsed, shivering in fear. He pushed himself to his knees. “Nearly there, Strawberry, a few more hours and you’ll be free.” He had one more errand to run and then everything would be set.

Willow stirred in her sleep. A surge of power nearby had disturbed her. She moaned and flipped onto her back. She could sense Rack nearby.

‘Right here, Strawberry. I’m nearly ready. Few more hours, okay?’ Rack’s gruff voice filled her mind soothingly.

‘Hurry…’

‘I will, my girl, and once we are reunited, we will be stronger and safer…’

“Wesley, I think she’s awake.” Willow heard Buffy walk over to her. A strong yet gentle hand touched her tentatively. “Wes? Anya, she’s feverish…”

Buffy sank back on her heels and watched over her friend. “Oh, Will, I can’t believe you did this! What happened? You were doing so well!”

‘Well for who?’ Willow asked defiantly, finally giving up the pretence of slumber. Opening her obsidian eyes, she looked up at Buffy. Feeling stronger and braver knowing Rack would help her escape, Willow felt she could face the Slayer. Willow wondered when she had shifted Buffy from being her best friend to being the Slayer. The angry Wiccan shrugged the train of thought away and glared up at the tiny blonde.

“Willow, what’s happening to you?” Buffy shifted her weight and sat in the lotus position.

‘Nothing! Just coming into my powers. You know, the same way you did at sixteen.’

“So you think that magic is your calling?” Buffy asked angrily, trying to keep from lashing out at the dark witch.

‘Yeah.’

“Yeah? So this calling of yours, it includes hurting everyone who cares about you? Hurting Tara? Hurting Xander? Hurting me and Dawn?” Her fury at un-making Dawn was almost overwhelming her again. Without Spike here to anchor her, Buffy was terrified that she might punch Willow.

“Buffy?” Anya came over. “Oh, you’re awake.” Anya glared down at Willow. “So, you’re going to apologise for everything?” Willow stared silently at Anya. “Nope? Fine.” Anya reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag of sand. Throwing its contents into Willow’s face, she invoked Morpheus and in a flash of amber light Willow was asleep. Pulling Buffy to her feet, she hustled the quiet girl out into the shop.

“Interesting that she equates her magic as a calling,” Wesley observed wryly.

Anya sat Buffy down and pushed a steaming cup of tea in front of her. “Buffy, don’t think about what Willow says. At the moment she is not herself! Once she has been cleansed and taught how to handle herself and the magicks she has accumulated, the Willow you know may reappear.”

Buffy cradled the cup in her cold fingers. “May reappear?”

“Yes, may. There are no guarantees in this world, or any of the other dimensions.” Anya sipped at her own cup.

“Buffy, Anya is right. Willow may eventually accept help; but there is no promise that she will ever become the girl you once knew. She has grown and changed, just like you. I imagine that you would accept that you are a very different young lady from the one I met when I first came to Sunnydale. Just as I have changed.”

“I know, Wes. It’s just weird seeing her like that. It’s almost like Willow has completely gone!” Buffy sipped her tea.

“She has in a way. Maybe once Willow regains her path… She may become an amazing woman.” Wesley offered, reassuringly. “I have seen it happen in the past. There is a coven in Devon who specialise in helping lost Wiccas. If the Eistied’s can’t help, then I think I may try to contact the coven.”

“Thank you, Wes.” Buffy patted him on the arm. “I am sorry to dump all of this on you first day you’re back.”

“Nonsense! I’d worry if there weren’t something to tackle here on the Hellmouth. Though I am sorry about Dawn. I promise I will do everything I can to get her back!”

Before Buffy could answer Wesley, the phone rang. Anya leapt up to answer it. The two watched Anya as she chatted with whoever had called. “No, I understand. I felt the same way myself at first. Okay. I’ll come around and get them. Tonight? Good. Call me if you want to go for a drink or dinner sometime. Okay, bye.”

“Who was that?” Buffy asked as Anya walked back to the research table.

“Amy, she called to say that after what happened yesterday, she was scared and didn’t want to be involved in Slayer business,” Anya explained.

“Oh.”

“Now Buffy, remember how I was at the beginning? I ran straight for my car and kept driving ‘til I hit Las Vegas.”

Buffy nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“But I came back didn’t I? Amy will come around eventually.”

“I suppose,” Buffy said, unconvinced.

“However, I am going around to her place to collect some papers and books she wanted to lend to us for Dawn.” Anya frowned at the notes Wesley had made. “That’s wrong, you need to conjugate the verb in the past tense there.” She looked up at Wesley. “May I?”

“Oh sure, please.” Wesley pushed over the papers and watched, bemused, as Anya muttered under her breath for a moment and then, grabbing the book, disappeared out of the door.

“I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Where’s she going?” Wesley asked Buffy.

“Probably to get a copy of the book.” Buffy craned her neck and watched Anya’s progress across the street to the copiers. “Yeah, see.”

“She’s quite remarkable isn’t she?” Wesley commented as he returned to his notes.

“Now keep quiet about the room and everything else, alright, Glinda?” Spike pulled into the alley round the side of the Magic Box. He looked over at Tara and smiled, she had fallen asleep on the drive over. He looked at Groo. “Guess all the housework was too much for her.”

“It would appear. However, I do think that you have managed to create an excellent haven for the Slayer to relax in.” Groo leant over and gently rubbed Tara on the shoulder, trying to wake her.

“Anything for my girl.” Spike nudged Tara in the ribs. “Come on, sleepy head, or I’ll have to kiss you awake!”

Tara yawned and stretched, she gave Spike the hairy eyeball. “Sorry, Spike, you really aren’t my type!”

“Good to know, luv! ‘Cos the Slayer’ll have m’balls!” Spike waggled his eyebrows as he slid over the bonnet of the car to open Tara’s door and help her out.

“Show off!” Tara grinned and headed off for the Magic Box, followed by Groo and Spike.

“Spike!” Buffy breathed as she threw herself into his arms. Spike cradled her to him and pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“That new book been of any help, pet?” Spike nodded to the research table. Wesley raised a hand in greeting.

“Think so. Wesley keeps making noises and then scribbling away in his notebook. Anya has been translating as well. Oh, and she knows Whistler, too.”

“Short, smelly, cryptic git?” Spike rubbed his chin on the top of her head. “Didn’t like him at all.”

“Me either.” Buffy wrinkled her nose up at Spike. She looked deeply into his blue eyes. There was something that he was hiding; she could sense it. “What’s wrong?”

Spike blinked innocently. “What makes you say that, love?”

“I dunno, there’s something different about you.” Buffy squinted up at Spike. She eyed him, considering.

Spike snorted, “Too right there is! Come on.” He pulled her to the front of the shop. “Have to say, your Slayer powers of observation are slipping!”

Buffy frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Spike pointed to the shop door. “Open it, pet.”

“Okaaay…” Buffy pulled open the door and looked out into Main Street. “Now what?” She asked.

Spike stepped past her and into the street, into the waning sunlight. “Come on, pet, I want to watch the sunset with you.” He looked over his shoulder at Buffy who stood with her hands pressed to her mouth, to keep herself from screaming hysterically at him for scaring her to death!

She reached for his arm and ran her hands over Spike’s upper body and face. “You’re not on fire! What happened?” Buffy grabbed his hands and ran her fingers over his knuckles. “No Gem of Amara.” Buffy put her hand over his heart, checking for a heartbeat. “No heartbeat. Spike, how?”

“Dawn.”

“Oh.” Buffy’s eyes filled with tears. “Is it permanent?”

“Dunno, luv, the smelly demon said it was the human elements of the Key that I’ve got in me and that’s why this.” He held his hand up in the golden sunlight, enjoying the warmth. He looked down at Buffy and leant forward, whispering something in her ear. When he finished, he gave her lobe a nibble.

“Really? You believe him?” Buffy asked hopefully.

“Glinda and Giles mark two agreed,” Spike offered.

“You asked them about our sex lives!” Buffy’s voice rose in anger as she blushed in embarrassment. She gave him a push and stormed off down the street, straight past Rack and his car, without noticing either of them. Spike ran after the angry girl. In his hurry to soothe Buffy, he didn’t pick up on Rack either. “I can’t believe you did that!” Buffy yelled as she disappeared around the corner.

“Now, come on, Slayer…” Spike’s voice trailed off as he disappeared round the corner after her.

Rack checked in his rear view mirror. ‘Good. The two biggest obstacles are out of the way.’ He straightened from the slumped position he had adopted upon the arrival of the vampire, Strawberry’s ex-girlfriend and the really big guy who was new to the area. Rack glanced back at the corner, around which the two blondes had disappeared; he muttered a spell of distraction to ensure they wouldn’t return the store until he and Strawberry were long gone.

Spike shook his head as a wave of magic blew over him. Buffy stumbled and nearly fell. Spike caught her around the waist and pulled her back against his chest. She stood panting, her hands wrapped over his. “Luuuve,” Spike drawled as he hitched her body closer to his, pressing her soft bottom against his stiffening erection.

“No! We won’t fix this with sex.” Buffy wriggled out of his arms and danced out of reach. “I can’t believe you told Wesley and Tara!” she hissed.

“Oh, come on, pet. It was after Short Round told me that Dawn wasn’t aware of what her host bodies were doing!” Spike stepped forward hesitantly. “Also, it was Columba who brought it up! She was worried that Dawn would feel our injuries when we were patrolling.” Spike took another step forward; he brushed his fingertips over Buffy’s quivering lips.

“Really?” She asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Look, pet, let’s get you home.” Rack’s spell of distraction began to activate, changing their perceptions. Buffy nodded and entwined her arm through his as they headed off home. Neither of them were aware of Rack. The scarred power broker sat waiting to go into the Magic Box, neither blond were aware of the immenant danger their friends were in, as they succumbed to the spell.

‘Wake up, gorgeous, I’m on my way in.’ Rack nudged Willow back to consciousness. He checked in his pocket for the amulet he had procured from the Guardian. Quickly assembling the various tricks he had cobbled together, Rack exited his car and trotted across the road. He peered into the window, ignoring the display of crystals and books. Quickly, Rack assessed the situation. He knew he had to immobilize the White Witch first, looking into his hand he grinned. The scarred side of his face twitched, his party surprise would be enough to keep her busy. The ex-demon and the ex-watcher, Wesley, his trawl through Strawberry’s recent memories had given him the name, they would be incapacitated by the sleep spell he had prepared, as would the big guy with the bright blue eyes. ‘I’m coming in for you now, babes.’

‘I’m ready,’ Willow answered hollowly, resigned to the fact that she was, in her opinion, irredeemable. She sat up and rested her back against the wall, bracing herself with her feet.

The small brass bell above the door chimed as Rack entered. Anya stood. “We’re closed today.”

“I know, I’m just here to collect something and then I’ll be off.” Rack strode into the main area of the store. Tara stood, the hair on the back of her neck prickling. The air was filled with the scent of power and decay, which she recognised from the other night. “None of that, luscious.” Rack tossed a small ball at Tara. Before it reached her, Tara grabbed the Powers’ book and tucked it safely into her pocket. As the ball struck Tara, it expanded and enveloped her in a gelatinous green jelly.

“No!” Wesley threw himself at Tara and tried to claw his way through to the suffocating girl. Groo picked Anya up and put her behind him, standing defensively in front of her. Anya peeked around his elbow and started shouting at Rack at the top of her lungs.

“Get out of my shop! You animal!” Anya screamed, hoping to distract the spell caster and, in turn, allow for the bubble covering Tara to dissolve. Rack ignored her and headed towards the training room.

“What did they do to you, my darling girl?” Rack reached out and swept her into his arms. With a single word, the ropes and gags disappeared. He walked back into the shop and watched the three futilely trying to free Tara, who was slumped unconscious in her prison, her lips turning blue.

“Tara! Rack, put me down!” Willow gasped as she struggled out of Rack’s arms. She ran towards her ex-lover, only to be halted by Groo and Anya, both of them pushed her away.

“Stay away from her!” Anya yelled angrily.

Willow gazed over at Tara desperately. “I can free her, let me help.”

Anya eyed the black haired witch angrily. “Do it from here. You are not getting any closer to her.”

“Strawberry, leave her and come with me,” Rack growled.

“Did you do this?” Willow turned angrily to him.

“Yeah, she was trying to stop me from saving you,” Rack lied. “She’ll be okay,” he lied again.

“No she won’t!” Wesley exclaimed. “Tara?” He turned to Willow. “If you can help, do it now. She has stopped breathing.”  

“Oh baby…” Willow stepped clear of Groo and Anya, took a deep breath and looked down. When she looked up, her eyes were bright red and glowed with mystical energies. Willow turned her attention to Tara and within seconds her prison melted away. Tara fell forward into Wesley’s arms, gasping for breath.

“Time to go, Strawberry,” Rack called to Willow, who stepped back into his arms.

“Tell her I’m sorry,” Willow begged.

Rack pulled the shimmering amulet from his pocket and snapped it in half. A bright flash of light filled the shop and once the light faded, neither Rack nor Willow remained.

“Willow don’t go…” Tara croaked, when she realised that Rack had managed to escape with Willow. She passed out suddenly, followed closely by the others. The small vial Rack had dropped began to emanate a black smoke. It was his final insurance against being followed.

Chapter 15

“Make way! Coming through!”

“Code red, he’s flat-lining.”

“Paddles!” A whine from the machine filled the room. “Clear!”

“Nothing, doctor!” A nurse checked for a pulse on the man’s neck.

“Charging… Clear!”

The nurse looked at the doctor and shook her head, they had been working on the patient for over half an hour but he was non-responsive.

“Time of death 18:45.”

The nurse noted the T.O.D on the chart.

“I’ll go tell the family.” The doctor turned to the double doors.

“Sir, his daughter is still being worked on. His wife and son are outside in the waiting room.”

“Fine.” The doctor pushed the doors open and went to find Mrs. Madison. She spotted the mother and son seated quietly in the corner waiting for news. He approached them quietly. This was part of his job he hated and was sadly something that he had to do many times since he had transferred to Sunnydale. “Mrs. Madison?”

The dark haired woman looked up. “Yes? Oh, Doctor, my husband? Amy?”

The ER doctor sat down next to them, hesitantly taking Mrs. Madison’s hand. “Mrs. Madison…”

“Please, call me Judy,” she interrupted.

“Judy, then. We tried to resuscitate your husband, but the damage to his heart was too much. I am very sorry he has passed on.”

“Daddy’s gone?” Eric Madison asked, his brown eyes filling with tears as his bottom lip trembled.

“Oh, honey.” Judy pulled her son into her arms, breathing in his scent and cried into his shoulder.

“What about Amy?” Eric asked. Judy looked over at the doctor hopefully; a frown of worry creased her kind face.

“She is still in critical condition, we can’t get her to wake up.” He hesitated, acutely aware that he was about to add to the woman’s distress. “Do you know what happened?”

“No, the police called me at work, they said there had been a break in. They found Tom and Amy unconscious. That’s all…”

“Well, we’ll keep trying to wake her. There will be tests, but at the moment I really don’t know anymore. You’ll both have to wait. I am sorry.” The doctor rose from his seat, determined to go save the young woman. The Madisons didn’t need a double tragedy in their lives. “Let me go check and I’ll come right back, okay?”

Judy Madison looked up at the doctor and tried to smile her thanks, but failed. He nodded in understanding and left.

“Can we see them?” Eric asked.

“Oh, Eric no. Daddy…” Judy Madison started weeping.

Spike pulled Buffy away from the front door. “Give me second, luv.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scarf. “Trust me?” He dangled the black silk in front of Buffy’s face.

She nodded, pulling the scarf from his fingers and wrapping it over her eyes. Buffy then turned her back to the stunned vampire. “Tie it for me?” she asked softly.

Spike stood still for a moment; he had not expected her to acquiesce so quickly. He reached up and tied the scarf in a bow, deftly avoiding pulling her golden tresses. “Oh, pet…” He trailed off, completely overwhelmed. His Slayer was constantly surprising him. The biggest surprise being the trust she offered so willingly, a trust he never anticipated earning. Spike pulled the giggling woman into his arms and pushed at the half open door with his hip.

“Where are we going, Spike?” Buffy asked curiously as she felt him taking her upstairs.

Spike set her gently on her feet outside the door to her new bedroom. “Can you keep the blindfold on for another minute, luv?”

“Sure.” Buffy stood with her hands folded in front of her. “Go on. I promise I won’t peek!” Spike leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to her smiling lips. He mouthed her full bottom lip for a moment, savouring the unique flavour of her soft mouth. Buffy pulled back and gasped. “Need to breath, handsome!” Spike grinned at her then stopped, realising she couldn’t see him. It was the first time she had said anything like that to him. “Stop grinning at me and get with the surprise!” Buffy ordered, trailing her fingers up his sensitive sides and giggling at his startled yelp.

“Get off me!” Spike paused. “Can you see me?” He waved a hand in front of her face.

“No, but I know you too well, Mr. Big Bad with the ego.” Buffy giggled back at him. “Now I want a see what all the mystery and blindfoldyness is about. Shoo!”

“Bossy chit.” Spike grumbled as he disappeared into the master bedroom. Buffy could hear him moving around and the sound of his Zippo striking. She cocked her head, straining to hear what he was doing. Before she could open her mouth to ask, a cool firm hand took both of hers and pulled her forward.

“Spike?” Buffy hesitated, she felt disorientated; this was not her room. She breathed in deeply, savouring the scents of the candles.

“Buffy, I just wanted to do something to make you feel better, if you don’t like it I can change everything back.” Spike was now worried that she would hate his presumption.

Buffy’s hands fluttered over her blindfold. “Spike, let me see. Please.” Spike stepped in front of her and reached behind her head to pull the silk from her eyes. Buffy looked up into his now worried face, closed her eyes and pressed a kiss under his chin. Then she stepped back and looked around at what used to be her mother’s room. Her mouth dropped open at the changes.

Her wrought iron bed now stood where her mother’s large Lit Bateau had, but the covers were different. She stepped over and ran her hands appreciatively over the plum coloured satin eiderdown, which was delicately stitched in silver thread. Buffy’s eyes spotted the dark grey silk sheets and pillows at the top. She smiled, imagining Spike’s pale form writhing in abandon on those slinky sheets while she tortured him with her lips and tongue.

“You like it?” Spike stepped hesitantly next to her. She tangled her fingers with his and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered.

“What about the rest?” Spike gestured behind them.

“There’s more?” Buffy asked. “Spike, this is too much! No one has ever done anything like this for me…”

“Hush now.” Spike gently turned her to face the rest of the room. She gasped in surprise. He had moved all her ornaments and pictures and placed them around the room. In the corner was her mother’s small armchair on which Mr. Gordo sat. There were beautiful metal candlesticks with candles flickering in them on the dresser, filling the room with light and scent. Spike pressed a kiss to her temple. “You deserve only the best and as long as I can, I will get for you, my heart.” Buffy turned in his arms and kissed him thoroughly.

“Thank you!” She squealed in excitement. Running over to the curtains, she ran her fingers over the fine, deep purple silk. She twitched them aside, checking that there were blinds behind them to keep Spike safe.

He smiled at her concern. “Don’t worry, luv, I made sure there was protection for me. That is, if you don’t mind me staying over sometimes.”

Buffy turned to him with a frown. “Sometimes?”

“Well, not if you don’t want me to…” he trailed off, hurt that she wouldn’t want to him to stay.

“Spike! I want you here every morning I wake up. So make sure you move your stuff in here as soon as possible!” she ordered.

Spike sighed in relief. ‘Love the bossy little chit.’  He also sent a mental thanks to Glinda who had insisted that they go to his crypt and pack everything he owned. It all sat in the trunk of the Desoto. “You sure?”

“Yes, come on, let’s go get everything now.” General Buffy came to the fore as she began to march out of her new bedroom.

Spike stopped her with a gentle touch to her shoulder. “Glinda made us go get everything this morning. It’s in the trunk of the Desoto. I can wait.”

Buffy grabbed his hand. “Well I can’t, come on.” She pulled an unresisting Spike behind as she trotted down the stairs. Stopping halfway down, she turned and threw her arms around his waist. “Thank you. I love it!”

“This is it?” Buffy eyed the two duffle bags, four boxes and various plastic bags.

“Yeah, not much of a pack rat. Not like the Poof. Just need m’clothes, decent music and well my…”

“Your books?” Buffy pointed at the boxes, which were filled with leather bound books and paperbacks. “It’s alright, Big Bad, I won’t tell anyone you like…” She squinted into one of the boxes and let out a surprised giggle. “You like Harry Potter?”

“Research purposes only,” Spike muttered defensively. Buffy raised a fine eyebrow at him and his shoulders slumped. “Alright! I like Harry Potter, s’bloody brilliant. You read any of the books?”

“Nope.” Buffy reached into the trunk and pulled out the duffle bags, hefting them onto one shoulder before grabbing the plastic bags filled with Spike’s shopping spree from the mall. “You can read them to me in bed if you want.”

Spike blinked at the intimate image of Buffy curled around him whilst he read to her. His usual eloquence deserted him and he gulped.  “Um, sure… Alright.” He reached in and pulled out two of the boxes and followed her into the house. Dumping them in the hall, he rushed back out and collected the last of his belongings before disappearing back into the house. By the time he had shut the door, Buffy had returned, taking the two boxes from his hands and going back upstairs.

She looked coyly over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you settled and then I think we both need a bubble bath.” The peroxide vampire followed her shapely behind upstairs.

“None of the girly smells though! Demons’ll be laughing at me on patrol if I smell like a girl!”

“Alright, no girly smells. I’ll use horse liniment instead! That okay with you?”

“Naw, just use some of the smellies Columba picked out. Oh, right! You haven’t looked in the bathroom have you?” Spike dropped his boxes by the half empty bookcase he had put under the window and pulled Buffy into the adjoining master bath.

He had not had time to light the candles in there, something he did now. Buffy gasped in girlish glee over the baskets of soap, bath oils and creams that Tara had put in the shelves. She then spotted the huge Egyptian cotton bath towels and robes Spike had picked out. “Wow! We are never leaving the house again!” She danced over to Spike and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him. “I love you.”

Spike cleared his throat. “Just wanted to give you a treat. Make you fell better. You know, after Dawn.”

“It is gorgeous. Dawn’ll be sooo jealous when we get her back and she sees all this!”

Spike blinked back the tears in his eyes. “You know we will, I promise we’ll get her back.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, you get the bath going and I’ll get my bits and pieces stashed. It’s alright to sling my clothes in with yours?”

Buffy smiled at the idea of them sharing closet space, it was so intimate and so right. “Sure, hope you can find room.” She giggled.  Turning to the baskets, she began sorting through them, sniffing various bottles before selecting one that wouldn’t offend Spike’s manly virtue. She could hear him moving around in their room. ‘Our room.’ She sighed in happiness, it sounded so right.

“Need any help?” Buffy leant against the door and watched Spike quickly filling the bookshelves. The fragrances wafting from the bathroom filled the room.

Spike looked over his shoulder and smiled softly at her. “No, I’m almost done.”

“Okay, come join me when you’re finished.” She turned and disappeared into the bathroom. Spike cocked his head as he heard her clothes dropping to the floor. Momentarily distracted, he dropped a copy of Le Morte D’Arthur. Fumbling, he retrieved the precious tome and reverently placed it next to its counterpart. He rocked back on his heels and eyed his collection. ‘Bloody lucky that Rupert’s not around or he’d nick them all!’

He heard a splash of water and groaned. The thought of his girl’s slender form covered in bubbles and glistening in the candlelight… He mentally slapped himself. ‘No need imagining it, you git! Just get in there!’ Spike stood and kicked off his boots, stripping as he approached the bathroom and Buffy.

“Well don’t you look like a little mermaid?” Spike leered as he gazed at Buffy appreciatively. She looked over her shoulder at him; her hair curling around her face. Buffy had secured it with a butterfly clip. Her cheeks were rosy pink from the warmth of the bath and her face was scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked gorgeous.

“Come in.” She reached one wet hand out to Spike; he took it and stepped into the bath behind Buffy. He slid down, resting his back against the warming porcelain, his legs on either side of Buffy’s. Spike pulled her warm and pliant body against his and laid his chin on her head. They both sighed at the same time. Spike’s cool body began to warm in the hot bathwater.

“This is nice,” Spike rumbled. Buffy hummed in agreement. He reached over and grabbed a sponge and some lavender soap. Lathering it up, he began to smooth it over Buffy’s arms. She snuggled into his chest, whilst Spike ran the sponge over her pink tipped breasts, her nipples hardening when Spike lingered over them. He dropped the sponge and rubbed his hands over her torso and down over her soft stomach.

Buffy reached between her legs and retrieved the sponge. Twisting in Spike’s arms, she turned to face him and began to run it over his chest. He hardened when her coarse curls made contact with his cock. She dipped the sponge into the water and raised it above his head. With an impish smile, she squeezed it. Spike spluttered as water ran down his face. He grabbed her hands in one of his and held them above his head, pulling Buffy’s hot wriggling body closer to his.

“Vixen!” he growled as he lunged for her lips, devouring her in a toe-curling kiss. 

Buffy pulled back to breathe, her breasts glistening in the candlelight. Spike pulled her legs around his waist; he leant forward and began to suckle on one of her pert nipples. He ground his hips against hers, his cock slipping between her moist folds and nudging against her opening. “Lift your hips, pet. Let me in,” he begged.

Buffy rose slightly and, with a twist of her hips, captured Spike in her warmth and slid down. They both gasped at their joining. Buffy rested her forehead against his. She caught his gaze as she began to slowly rotate her hips. Spike groaned at her muscle control, as she clenched him tightly.

“Ahh pet, just like that! Squeeze me.” He drew in a shuddering breath as he felt her tighten even more. He released her hands and dropped his to her hips, steadying her. “Love you,” he whispered.

 “Love you too.” Buffy slid her wet hands over his water-slicked shoulders, tracing his muscles and down to his elbows. Gripping him gently, she began to lean back. Spike tightened his grip on her hips, when he felt her begin to lower herself into the water. Her new position caused them both to shudder with pleasure; Spike’s penis began to rub her in some interesting places. Her mouth opened in a silent scream and she came hard. Spike lost control when he felt her inner muscles clamp down on his aching cock and their strong spasms sent him over the edge, joining her in an equally powerful orgasm. “Jesus!” Spike pulled Buffy back up and into his arms as they both shuddered their release. Buffy slumped weakly in his cradling arms, her warm breath tickling his erect nipples.They both shook, riding out the after-effects of their release. Unable to resist Buffy latched onto one of the pale pink nubs and began to tweak it with her teeth.  

She raised her head and licked her lips. “That was amazing!”

Spike grunted. He was unable to form a coherent word, let alone a sentence. He absently wondered if his brain had blown out of the back of his head. His teeth ached from the strength of his orgasm; he un-clenched his fingers from Buffy’s hips and soothed the red finger marks he had unwittingly left. Buffy shifted slightly. Spike’s limp dick slid out of her causing them both to moan at the loss of contact.

“Luv, you still in there?” Spike mumbled.

“Hmmm, yeah,” Buffy mumbled tiredly into his neck.

“Come on, let’s get you outta here.” Spike stood cradling her limp form in his arms as he stepped out of the lukewarm bathwater. He stepped out and snagged a bath towel, wrapping it awkwardly around them both. “Give us a hand, pet.” Buffy slid down his body and wrapped the big towel around them both and helped him get dry. “Let me just put out the candles.” He held her body to his side and leant over to blow out the candles, plunging them into darkness.

They stumbled tiredly into the bedroom and sank onto the bed. They slid under the covers and wrapped themselves around each other. Buffy nestled against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Spike wrapped his arms around her warm naked body and sighed in contentment.

“If I get knocked out once more this week I will scream!” Anya pushed herself off the floor and rubbed her forehead. “Morpheus spell!” She stormed over and stomped on the now empty vial. “Bastard!”

Wesley groaned and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Well, at least we’re catching up on our sleep,” he observed wryly. He nudged Groo with his foot. “You awake?”

“Yes. What of Tara?” Groo rolled over and patted Tara on the knee. “Tara?”

“I’m up. Yuck, what is that taste in my mouth?”

“That would be the fumes from Somanalla root used in the spell Rack concocted,” Anya explained. She disappeared behind the till and rummaged through the shelves until she found some mints, handing them out to the other three. “Suck on them, it’ll clear the after-taste.”

“Thanks.” Tara popped one of the offered mints into her mouth and sucked it thoughtfully. “So any idea where they went?”

“Maybe these can offer a clue?” Groo retrieved the two halves of the token Rack had used.

Wesley took them and examined them carefully. “No, I don’t recognise them…” He reached for a book and began to flick through it.

Anya pushed the two pieces together and frowned. “Not something I have come across.” She turned to Tara. “Can you sense anything from them?”

Tara took the two pieces in one hand and weighed them in her palm. “Nothing, but then again, he probably drained them when they vanished.”

“What do we do?” Anya asked worriedly. “I mean, she has part of Dawnie in her, won’t we need her present for the spell?”

Tara nodded. Her face was pale and there were dark circles around her eyes. “I think so, we’ll have to find her…”

“Maybe a location spell?” Groo offered.

“We can try, but Rack is probably an adept at locking…” Wesley rubbed his neck tiredly, his throat was aching and the scar was beginning to itch.

Anya watched everyone and made a decision. “Not tonight. We are all tired, I think it’d be better if we try this in the morning after we all get some sleep.” She hesitated. “Someone is going to have to call Buffy and tell her what’s happened.”

“Groo and I will tell them when we get back to the house.” Wesley pushed himself up and reached for his jacket. “Tara, maybe you should come with us or stay with Anya.”

Tara looked over at the ex-demon and tilted her head. “Can I stay with you?”

“Yes please, I don’t like sleeping on my own. Okay, that came out wrong…”

“No I get it.” Tara smiled weakly and rose. She tucked the Clavian spell book into her pocket.

They headed out of the shop and into the night. Wesley slipped a stake in his waistband and nodded his thanks to Groo who also handed one to each of the girls. The two men watched the girls drive into the night before heading off on foot. 

Buffy’s eyes flickered open and she grinned at the luscious sight in front of her. Moving her head slightly, she licked Spike’s nipple and then blew on it gently, watching it pucker under the coolness of her breath. Spike’s hands twitched in the small of her back. Buffy wriggled out of his arms and began to lick and nip her way down Spike’s torso. Her mouth lingered on his navel. She looked up at her sleeping lover and pouted, he was still fast asleep. She grinned wickedly and slid further down. Buffy pulled the silk sheet off of Spike and knelt back on her heels. Her eyes travelled down to his groin, her fingers reached out and tangled in his soft dark blonde curls, tugging them gently. Looking up at his face to see if she had gotten a reaction, she frowned. Nothing.

‘Well, we’ll have to do something about that.’ Tossing her hair over one shoulder, she bent forward. Licking her lips to moisten them, Buffy pressed them against the soft skin on Spike’s inner thigh. He shifted in his sleep, allowing Buffy to slip in between his legs. Grinning mischievously, her head descended.

Spike stretched sleepily, he felt warm and loved. And also very perky…

He looked down and blinked, Buffy had her mouth wrapped around him and was sucking his cock gently. She caught his eyes and winked cheekily. With a smooth motion, she pulled her head back, her tongue lingering on his rock hard erection, tracing the contours.

“Nice tongue bath, Slayer. Come up here,” Spike growled. Buffy slid sinuously up his torso, trailing her hair over his balls and throbbing erection. She pressed herself to him, moulding her soft curves to his now tense body. “You’ve been playing without me,” Spike pouted up at her.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I got bored.” She playfully nipped Spike’s jugular, causing him to vamp out.

“Slayeeer.”

“Vammmmpire!” Buffy retorted she planted her lips on Spike’s, sliding her tongue delicately around his sharp teeth. With the point of her tongue, she licked his sensitive fangs, curling it around one of them. Spike groaned and opened his mouth, allowing his girl access to his teeth, secretly delighted that his demonic features didn’t turn her off. Buffy’s tongue rasped up and down his fangs, lingering on them. Spike got even harder.

He pulled back, gazing up at her soft mouth and the small, pink tip of her tongue that poked out. “Do you have any idea what sort of effect that has on a vamp?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred. Buffy nodded and ground her hips down, her coarse curls mingling with his. Spike shifted slightly and slid his throbbing erection between her legs and began moving his hips. Buffy threw her head back and groaned with pleasure. “You like that, little girl?” Spike increased the speed of his hips, the base of his shaft rubbed against her clitoris, causing Buffy to moan loudly. Her body began to shiver. Spike flipped them; he rested his weight on his hands and continued to stimulate Buffy. He was soaked with her arousal, helping him to slide up and down.

“More, Spike, please,” Buffy begged, a fine sheen of sweat covering her flushed body. She titled her head to one side, offering her neck to her demon lover.

Spike pressed a kiss to her fluttering pulse at the junction of her neck and shoulder. He then gently began to nibble and suck along her neck. Never breaking the skin with his fangs, he left a trail of small love bites. Reaching her collarbone, he skimmed his teeth along the delicate bones before settling his mouth in the hollow of her neck. He pressed a tender kiss there and pushed upwards with his hips.

“Ahh,” Buffy groaned as they were finally joined. Spike levered himself up onto his hands and looked down, watching himself disappear into her depths. Buffy reached up and tangled her fingers in his curling hair and pulled him back down, cradling his head against her throat. “Too far away. I need you close.”

“I’ve got you, my heart. Spike’s got you,” he moaned against her sweating skin, licking her throat and savouring the taste of her. His hips began to hammer into Buffy’s, grunting slightly each time their pelvises made contact. Spike slid his arms under her and wrapped his hands over her shoulders, anchoring himself to her. He slowed his hips, thrust upwards once and then stopped. Spike savoured her soft warmth, panting slightly; trying to control himself before he could move again. Buffy clenched her inner muscles and came. Spike groaned and lost himself in her, his back arched as he followed her into ecstasy. “You’re gonna kill me, you know?” he moaned.

“Yeah, but what a way to go!” Buffy chirped.

Spike laughed and rolled off of her, pulling her onto his boneless body. He ran his hands up and down her sweat slicked back, tracing random patterns. Before he could retort, Spike heard the front door shut quietly. He heard Groo and Wesley whispering as they stood in the hallway. “Something’s up, pet. Watcher boy and He-Man are in a tizz.” He slapped her on the backside. “Up you get.” Spike slid reluctantly away from Buffy’s limp body and pulled on his jeans that lay on the floor by the bed. He tossed one of the new towelling bathrobes that he and Tara had picked out at the mall over Buffy’s glistening body. Grumbling under her breath, she pulled it on.

Pushing her rumpled hair off her face, Buffy groaned as she got to her feet. “Ouch.”

Spike looked over at her, worried. “Pet, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No!” Buffy pulled her hair back and secured it in a lose knot. “Muscles ache, that’s all.” There was no way she was going to inflate Spike’s ego. She tried to walk normally. “Come on.”

“Pet, you may want to cover that up.”

“What?” Buffy glanced down to check all her bits were covered.

“Your neck…” Spike explained.

Buffy walked over to her dressing table and examined her neck. It was covered in rapidly bruising bites and streaks of red where Spike’s fangs had grazed her delicate skin. She ran her fingertips over the area, her nipples hardened. “Why?”

Spike shrugged. “S’your call. Just thought you might not want Watcher boy to see…”

Buffy turned and pressed her fingers to his lips. “I don’t care what they think, o stop worrying. I mean, come on, he must have read enough dusty old books about vamps to know it’s not all vanilla sexage!” Buffy leaned up and bit Spike hard on the throat, unerringly zeroing in on the same spot that Drusilla had bitten him when she had turned him. His eyes rolled up in bliss and he smiled goofily at her. “There. Now we match.” She headed out of the room, leaving Spike to adjust himself, trying to ease the strain on his zipper.

“Oh, come on, luv, you can’t leave me in this state.” He gestured to his bulging groin.

Buffy looked over her shoulder. “Just imagine Xander naked and covered in whipped cream.”

Spike grimaced at the image and rapidly deflated. ‘That’ll work,’ he thought ruefully and followed Buffy downstairs.

Groo and Wesley watched the couple come down the stairs, Buffy’s tousled hair a dead giveaway as to their earlier activities. Spike leant against the banister, his pale chest gleaming in the light. His jeans rode low on his hips, the top button open. Buffy noticed and cleared her throat pointedly.

“Hey, guys, what’s wrong?” She pushed her hands into the pockets of her new robe, watching the two men closely.

“You both reek of magicks,” Spike commented as he pushed off from the banister and sauntered into the sitting room. “Grab a pew and fill us in, mate.”

Buffy disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a tray of glasses and beer. She had poured out a Diet Coke for herself. Quickly handing over drinks, she vanished back into the kitchen. The three men sipped their beers and waited for her to return.

“Thought you guys might want something to eat.” Buffy dropped a plate of chicken wings, mixed cold meats, a couple bowls of chips and some bread.

“Thanks.” Wesley reached over and grabbed some food and began to wolf it down.

“Your blood’s heating up, honey.” Buffy batted her lashes at Spike before sitting between his legs and resting her chin on her knees. “So what’s with the bad moody faces?”

Spike stared quizzically at the top of her head. ‘Honey?’ He heard the microwave ping and before Spike could move, Buffy was up. She returned with the warm mug and placed it in his surprised hands. “Uh, thanks?” Spike muttered. Buffy smiled and pecked him on the cheek before settling back on the floor. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her robe around them.

Wesley cleared his throat. “Well, it’s about Willow.”

“What’s the witch done now?” Spike asked as he sipped his blood. He reached over and grabbed a handful of wings, leaning over and offering them to Buffy. She took a couple and began to nibble on them. She was famished. Spike dipped one in his blood and ate it with relish.

“Well, she’s escaped.” Wesley rubbed his scar.

“What?” Buffy’s head snapped up, she frowned at both of the men sitting on the sofa.

“A scarred man came to retrieve her. The witch called him Rack,” Groo offered. He fiddled with the sandwich he had made before eating it.

“Rack kidnapped her?” Buffy asked. She remembered Willow describing Rack’s scarred face during that first night she went cold turkey. Willow had sat in the bathroom while Tara packed and left. When Buffy had finally got back from the hospital and put Dawn to bed, she had found Willow curled in a ball on the cold tile floor. Pulling her up and helping the shivering witch into bed, Buffy had asked Willow who had done this to her. Willow began crying. Between bouts of tears and shivering, the redhead had told Buffy about Amy taking her to the powerbrokers den. Buffy had sat, stunned at Willow’s thoughtlessness at taking Dawnie to the magical equivalent of a crack house. Willow had described Rack down to his stained t-shirt. Buffy knew that she would recognise the scummy bastard, if she were ever to come across him, and she knew that they would meet. ‘One I get my hands on the bastard that corrupted Willow, he had better watch out!’ Buffy silently avowed, unaware that Spike was thinking along those same lines.

“It was Rack and he was well equipped to combat us all.” Wesley glanced over at Buffy. He fiddled with the label on his beer bottle. “She wasn’t kidnapped, Buffy. Willow wanted to go. I’m sorry.” He knew that,  Willow had been her closest friend and an integral part of the ‘Scooby Gang’. “Really sorry.”

Buffy closed her eyes. “Dawn…”

Spike frowned and then swore under his breath.

Wesley and Groo watched the two lovers.

Buffy looked up at Wesley, her eyes filled with tears. “She has part of Dawn. Now that she’s gone, there is no way we can get Dawnie back!”

Spike slid off the armchair and wrapped himself around the now weeping girl.

Groo shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. The warriors he had admired so much had disappeared. In their place was a grieving family. He needed to offer some hope, to help them regain their strength and determination. “There is an easy option,” he offered tentatively.

Spike looked up at the Pylean. Buffy had turned in his arms and curled into his chest. “What you thinking, mate?”

“We will go after the two magic users and bring the sorceress back,” Groo explained.

Wesley blinked, surprised. “Well that was obvious!”

Before Buffy or Spike could question the Pylean Champion, the front door burst open. Tara and Anya almost tripped over each other in their eagerness to get in.

“Girls! I though you were going to get some rest!” Wesley stood and helped the two newcomers to the sofa. Both were out of breath and flustered. Anya was clutching a charred stick which had a shrivelled hand attached to it and a smouldering Atlas.

“Anya, why have you set fire to a monkey paw?” Buffy eyed smouldering item, wondering if she should go find a fire extinguisher.

“Wasn’t me. It was Tara!” Anya chirped. She patted the still breathless Wiccan on the shoulder. “She had a stroke of inspiration and well…” Anya eyed Tara for a second. “We weren’t anticipating such a powerful spell! My coffee table is toast!”

“What happened, Tara?” Wesley knelt before the quiet blonde.

Tara’s hand fluttered to her chest and laid over her heart. “I don’t know. We were talking and then an image appeared in my head of the Hutamin paw, I even knew its name.”

“Her eyes were silvery green as well!” Anya interjected.

Spike and Buffy frowned at this new information. They stood and peered at Tara. The gentle girl flushed at the attention being directed at her and shrank back into the soft cushions, trying to disappear.

“Then she grabs a pen and writes down this ritual!” Anya delved into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper and waved it excitedly.

Wesley grabbed hold of her hand and gently prised the paper out of her fingers. “May I?”

“Oh yes sorry!” Anya let go of the scrap of paper. “Here…”

“Thank you,” Wesley muttered absently as his eyes scanned the paper, unaware of Anya’s surprised reaction to his automatic politeness.

She stared at the man who knelt before Anya. ‘No one ever thanks me!’ She smiled at the dark haired Englishman. “You’re, ah… welcome?” she replied.

“How did you know this?” Wesley eyed Tara with an increased respect. “It’s something I have only come across in the most obscure texts in its original language.” Wesley didn’t wait for a response. “It’s the Bu'shundi ritual.” At Groo, Buffy and Spike’s blank expressions, he explained, “It is a very difficult and powerful locating ritual.”

Tara shrugged. “It just appeared in my mind. I don’t know how…”

“The Powers?” Buffy and Spike wondered aloud.

“What?” Anya frowned, and then  nodded. “Yes, you’re right!”

“Indeed!” Wesley shook his head. “I should have anticipated this after Whistler’s appearance yesterday.”

Tara’s hand moved from her heart to her mouth. “Oh!”

“I believe they must have interceded on Dawn’s behalf. Possibly, they consider her important in the scheme of their plans.” Wesley hypothesized. “Why else would they send an emissary with a text to assist us?” Wesley frowned, wondering what was so significant about both Dawn and Connor. It was rare that the capricious Powers took direct action; they usually expected their ‘Champions’ to muddle through.

“That is a tremendous honour and great responsibility. Tara you are indeed a special woman!” Groo inclined his head slightly in respect.

Spike snorted. “Took you long enough to notice, mate!” He smiled over the furiously blushing Tara and smiled gently, small lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes. Softening his usually stern expression.

Tara blinked at the vampire. ‘Wow. I can see why Buffy finds so much comfort in him…’

Wesley looked down at Tara’s neat writing and read the ritual again. “So, did you have any success?”

Tara and Anya exchanged a worried look.

“Well, yes.” Anya leant over and dropped the charred Atlas onto the coffee table. Everyone crowed around and looked down.

“She’s in New York,” Tara whispered.

Anya flipped through the pages until she reached the right one. In the centre of the Map of New York was a small, charred spot.