"Hurry up!" Dawn insisted. "He's here."

"You want me to hurry up or you want it done right?" Spike snarled back as he used one hand to turn Dawn's head back towards him and hold it steady, while in the other he held a felt-tip style eyeliner. "Look up."

As he swept the pen under her right eye, leaving a thin line of pale, iridescent blue, Faith's voice echoed up the stairs. "Spike, phone. Angel."

"Tell him there's only me, Buff, Bit an' the mutt comin' an' we weren't plannin' on takin' the mutt to the restaurant."

He'd just moved on to Dawn's other eye when Faith shouted again. "He says that's not why he rang. He says he needs to speak to you." Spike frowned at the interruption to his concentration.

"Tell him I'll ring him back, unless... Buffy? You want to go speak to him?" Spike asked his fiancée, who was posing in front of Dawn's mirror, holding up the teenager's prom dress in front of her.

Her lower lip dropped into a pout. "But I've gotta help with her dress."

"Play with her dress more like, an' you won't be doin' anything till I've finished with her make-up, an' since I'll be vacatin' the room before she takes her robe off, I'll can swap with you then. So... bugger off an' see what Grandpa wants like a good girl."

"Buffy," Dawn interrupted. "If you don't go, my eyeballs are going to dry out from all the looking up while I wait for him to finish."

He managed to complete Dawn's eye shadow and mascara before Buffy came back into the room holding the handset.

"He wants to know if you know anything about breaking into places with hi-tech security," she said.

"Ye-ah... when you bust into places with hi-tech security, alarms go off," Spike replied, as he applied a tiny hint of blusher, before moving on to pick up a brush to outline Dawn's lips in a pale almost neutral pink.

"So, you don't know anything about planning how to break into one of these places without setting all the alarms off?"

"I'd lay odds I know at least as much as Mr Straight an' Narrow... Blot." He passed Dawn a folded tissue and waited for her to finish before he applied a second and final coat of lipstick. As he did so, he relayed a question via Buffy. "We talkin' about goin' after his bird or after that horseshoe whatchamicallit?"

"He says the axis and I say why?"

"'Cause the security on summat as is expected to raise thirty-three million is gonna be more than the security on some bint, even if she does have a direct hook-up to The Powers That Want to Screw With Our Lives." Spike took the handset from Buffy, nodding at Dawn as he did so. "All yours. Time I went an' intimidated her date."

"Like you don't, anyway?" Dawn shouted after him as he left the room.

"Talk to me, Peaches." Spike paced at the top of the stairs. Brandon cared about Dawn, he knew, but there were times when he was just a bit too much of an upright citizen for Spike to trust him completely. He listened as his grandsire explained how Fred had managed to track down the photographer who had taken the pictures for the auction house brochure. Some judicious breaking and entering had revealed the location where the shoot had taken place and Fred had then been able to find the shipping company which had delivered it there. If it had been moved again since, then it had been done without the benefit of the same heavy security. Angel had a meeting tonight with a snitch from the firm that installed the alarm system at the location where it was being held. By tomorrow morning he would have the plans. If at all possible, Angel wanted to be ready to move tomorrow night.

"We'll be there early tomorrow. Normally, we'd pile in the car an' drive down tonight, but seein' as how Bitty's been waitin' for weeks to be the belle of the ball, if I didn't let her have her night out, we'd like as not end up with her decidin' to share with me an' Buffy every night instead of just when she has nightmares."

"That happen often?"

"Every other night, give or take a couple, since the thing with Sam. Either us or Glinda."

"Will she be okay on her own at the hotel if everyone else is involved tomorrow night?"

"She'll have the mutt for company, an' to be honest, I'd as soon Buffy had as little part in this as possible, so... What about our little cuckoo in the nest? Want us to bring her? So far as I know she's more of a smash an' grab type than stealth girl, but..."

"No, let her pick up the slack on the patrol side of things. If they catch her going after that thing on top of two murder raps, they'll just throw away the key. I'll have rooms ready for you at the hotel for when you get here. Faith said you're not bringing the witch?"

"She's busy studying. She's got her end of year exams. Won't be done till Wednesday. You think we might need the hocus-pocus?"

"Considering the auction house deals in black market mystical items..."

"Well, I can think of one alternative, seein' as how Rupert's back in Blighty an' if Red so much as tried anythin' like this she'd likely kill herself, but you'd have to be prepared to do some fence mendin'."

"Wesley. Kidnapped. My Son."

"Wesley did what we all do. He took the information that he had available to him and he made a choice. As your friend, he decided that you would rather your son was safe than anything else, even if the danger he had to take the boy away from was you. What happened after he took him wasn't his fault. An' the only thing that won't let you see that is that damn Irish pride of yours. I'd like to think that if Buffy was out of the picture an' he believed I was goin' to hurt Bitty, for whatever reason, that he'd do the same for her. It makes me happier knowin' that there's someone around who's prepared to make the hard choices, even if it means leaving behind every friend he's got... or losin' them when they're too small-minded to even put themselves in his shoes."

"It's not that simple, Spike."

"No? Well, it is this simple. We might need someone who can handle the mojo. Even if we don't need him for the magic, the Watcher can handle himself and that's never a bad thing, not to mention he's not exactly short on the old grey matter. Without Wes the chances of pullin' this off go down. That means the chances of you gettin' the cheerleader back go down, too. So, does she mean more to you an' your crew than some stupid idea you're all carryin' round that what he did was designed to hurt you rather than to safeguard yours and Darla's hell spawn?"

"Would you not refer to my son as hell spawn?"

"Well, last I knew that was the general term for a demon sprog."

"That's... Just don't, Spike."

"Or what? Look, come morning we'll be there. By all means take a while to think it through an' discuss it with Othello an' Desdemona but I sincerely suggest that you get off your high horse an' ring Wes before his dates arrive. So far as I know, his cell's not one of the new ones Buffy bought so it's probably the same one as he had when he worked with you, or I can give you his home number."

"I'll think about it."

Spike looked up as Buffy came out onto the landing, followed closely by Dawn. "You do that. See you in the a.m.!" Spike ended the call and turned his full attention to the ocean-hued vision in front of him.

Even Dawn's nerves couldn't do anything to make her look less than perfect. "You need an arm to lean on goin' down the stairs, pet?"

"And I was hoping you were going to carry me," the teenager teased as she wrapped her arm around his.

 

* * * * *

 

Spike taunted the boy mercilessly. "Yeah, so, she's gorgeous? Runs in the family. Now, either shut your mouth or use it to tell her somethin' nice an' give her that corsage before you drop the damn thing."

Brandon blushed and passed the flower in its clear plastic box to Dawn before stuttering a greeting. "Y-y-you were right about the dress. It is something else."

Spike rolled his eyes and drew the boy off to one side. "Look, I know your brain is parked in neutral, or at least it better be, because if you're thinking anything you shouldn't be thinking about a fifteen year old girl, you'll have her big sister to deal with... before or after me, but don't kids these days get the concept of romance? You're supposed to help her put it on an' it's her you're meant to compliment, not the bloody frock.

This thing finishes at one. Even allowing for a queue getting out of the parking lot, I expect you back here at 1.30 latest. An' if I hear that you were anything other than a perfect gentleman..." Just for a second, unseen by the congregated women in the room, Spike let his eyes flash yellow.

"Now, try again."

He spun the boy around to face Dawn, whose nervous fingers were fumbling to open the box the corsage came in, and sent him on his way with a gentle push.

He moved over to where Buffy watched the drama from one side, smiling as her arm slid around his waist even before his own wrapped around her shoulders. She tilted her head back to kiss his cheek. "I hope you scared him good," she whispered, "'cause that really is the killer dress."

"An' a Summers' woman inside it."

"He looks kinda cute in a tux himself, though," Buffy admitted.

"Have I got competition?" Spike asked gleefully.

"Hey! Mom an' dad, less with the makin' eyes at each other and get in the picture," Faith berated them.

"Not without Glinda." Spike pulled the protesting witch with them. "Just give us one of those sweet smiles of yours for the family album."

 

* * * * *

 

"Remember, we'll be patrolling the graveyards nearest the school, just in case, so if you see any vampires or devil dogs or flying monkeys or... whatever, you just give us a call and we'll be right there."

"Yes, Buffy, but you know those things only happen to you, right?"

"And if the limo doesn't take you straight there, you call me."

"Buffy, there is no 'Slayer's little Sisterfest'. Chill. The worst thing that's going to happen is if I spill punch down my dress the minute I get there."

Buffy nodded her head. "Well, if you do, and this Kristin is within a ten foot radius of your elbow at the time..."

"Kirsty and I know. Call you."

"And don't lose the earrings or the necklace..."

"Yes, mom."

Buffy's eyes welled up. "She'd be so proud of you. All dressed up."

"And with a date that isn't Faith," Dawn pointed out.

Spike wrapped his arms around Buffy's shoulders and nodded to Brandon. "Better take her an' make a run for it. I'll keep a hold of this one so she can't follow you into the limo."

Buffy's hands reached up to hook over Spike's as she tilted her head back to question her mate. "Are you comparing me to the dog?"

"Nope, just a slightly clingy mother... an' besides it's not like you're the one locked in the basement to stop you drooling on her dress. So, are we actually doing a patrol, or are we just going to find somewhere where we can spy on them all night?"

"It's not spying. We-e-e're just ensuring their welfare. In Sunnydale, these sort of things always seem to attract some sort of demon activity."

"Bit's school isn't in Sunnydale, pet, at least not till next year, if Hard Hat Harris ever finishes building it... Always assuming that you don't want to send her to that nice new Miss Chalmers' School for Gifted Girls that's suddenly decided to open for business."

"Like I'm going to just hand over my sister for Quentin Travers to use as a hostage? Get real. I still can't believe that the Council has owned all these properties around Sunnydale for years and just left them sitting empty, but they can't pay slayers a salary."

"Well, you could say the wannabes are getting scholarships, if you want to look at it like that."

"And Travers is Professor X... I don't think."

"Does that mean I get to be Wolverine?" Spike's mouth twitched briefly into a pout and his left eyebrow went up about a centimetre.

"Nah, you flunk tall and dark."

"As long as I pass on handsome and sexy..." he crooned, tilting his head forward until his lips almost touched Buffy's forehead.

"Yep, you look like you passed when they were giving out handsome and sexy," Buffy pulled away when Spike's hands began to tickle her as punishment.

"That gym could be awash with the demon hordes if you keep distracting me," she pointed out. "All those teenage pheromones... It's like demon Chanel..."

"That's mostly just werewolves." Spike stepped out from under the porch to look at the suspiciously round moon. "Tell me that cousin of Red's Dog Boy doesn't live anywhere near Bit's school."

Buffy simply arched an eyebrow. Spike obviously wasn't aware that the full moon was actually two nights off, but if it meant he was a bit quicker getting ready for their patrol of the school grounds, she wasn't about to let on, at least not before they got where they were going. He picked up his coat from where it was draped over the banister and, finding Buffy's underneath it, held it out for her to put on before donning his own. "Guess I better get the car."

Buffy reached out a hand to stop him. She picked up the keys for his Harley from the hall table, throwing them to him. "The motorcycle's less conspicuous."

 

* * * * *

 

"Hello? Like the peroxide freak didn't spell it out simple enough? Don't you want me back?" Cordy paced impatiently as she watched two scenes at once. "Call Wesley, you great big mook," she berated Angel.

"And you lot... You couldn't come to start the planning straight away? You have to do the whole 'Pretty in Pink' routine? It's not like she's running for prom queen or anything..."

So far as Wes could tell, everything was ready. Anything that he had considered might possibly be deemed unsuitable for Rosa to investigate had been moved upstairs, either to his own bedroom, which was currently locked, or under lock and key in one of his glass-fronted bookcases in the upstairs study.

He'd been unsure what to cook. If it had been just him and Marie, he might have gone for something elaborate, but he didn't know enough about Rosa's eating habits to be sure what she would eat. Buffy had come to the rescue by providing him with a large selection of take-away menus, though Spike's 'helpful' comment had run along the lines that if Rosa ate her grandmother's cooking she would eat anything.

Marie was bringing the DVDs with her, a kiddie friendly one for the earlier part of the night and then another couple for after they had put Rosa to bed in the spare room. He had even visited the local Disney store and brought home a stuffed Tigger, about half as big as Rosa herself, to share the bed with the little girl whenever she came to visit. As to where anyone else was sleeping, he had no idea.

His previous dates with Marie had ended with him dropping her off outside her apartment. It didn't take a mindreader to know that Marie had been as reluctant to part as he was, but she had yet to invite him in at the end of an evening. Reading between the lines, Wes suspected that Marie's home life had been very sheltered. By her own admission her mother had disowned her after she had been excommunicated and Wes thought that was just one way in which a religiousness that bordered on fanaticism had manifested itself. She had met Rosa's father, Thomas, when she was in her first year of college and Wes knew that he was the first man she had dated since his death.

Then again, considering that he had spent over a year in the futile pursuit of Fred, just being with a woman who obviously wanted to be with him was a refreshing change and it wasn't doing his self-esteem any harm, either. Wes wasn't about to betray her trust by rushing her into his bed before she was completely ready. If Marie chose to double up with Rosa or if he ended up sleeping on the sofa, that was okay with him... even if certain other arrangements would be infinitely preferable.

 

* * * * *

 

"Hey! How are you today?" Wes asked Rosa as he swung the self-propelled missile that occasionally masqueraded as a young girl into his arms.

"Mommy says I'm a handful today, but I think I'm bigger than that 'cause a handful's only little. Is this your house?"

"It's where I'm living for the moment, but I don't own it," Wes explained.

"Can I look 'round?"

"Maybe later. Your mommy needs to check that I haven't left anything where you might hurt yourself first."

"I won't get hurt and if I do mommy kisses it better."

"Why don't you pretend you're a good girl and wait like Wes asked you to?" Marie suggested as she joined them, carrying an overnight bag over one shoulder and a Barbie backpack in one hand. She leant over Rosa's shoulder to kiss the Englishman on the cheek.

"Because I'm a little demon?" the girl replied with a grin, "but I'll pretend to be good."

"Rosa, why don't you take your bag up to the spare room? It's upstairs at the front of the house at that end." Wes pointed toward the living room. "You should find someone on the bed, waiting to keep you company." He lowered the girl to the floor and she immediately took off upstairs to check out her sleeping quarters for the night.

"Hey, handsome." Marie dropped her own bag on the floor and stepped into Wes's waiting arms. This time their greeting wasn't going to fall into the family viewing category, though Wes was forced to cut it far shorter than he might have liked, in order to avoid being seen by little eyes.

"Hey, to you, too." His voice was husky with desire as he stooped to pick up Marie's bag for her. "There are only two bedrooms, I'm afraid. I'm using what was originally the master bedroom as a study, but if you'd rather not share with Rosa, I can take one of the couches..."

Marie's teeth rested nervously on her lower lip as she considered. "Normally, I would say that I would share with the little one, but then... if things change..."

"It would be difficult to explain to her why you weren't going to be sharing with her any longer," Wes added in an understanding whisper.

"Sí. I don't want to evict you from your bed, though." She stumbled over her words as she realised this could be misconstrued. "I mean that I'm happy to sleep on the sofa."

Wes smiled and taking her hand led her upstairs. "I wouldn't hear of it. If word got around that I let a young lady sleep on the sofa while I had a huge double bed all to myself, I'd be disqualified from ever claiming to be a gentleman again. The sofa is mine."

"You don't mind? I mean you weren't expecting..."

Wes reached the landing at the top of the staircase and turned to look Marie in the eye as she joined him. "All I expect from you is your company. The rest..." He gave a tiny shake of his head as if to say anything else were unimportant. "The rest will come together in its own good time... or not."

He took the key for his bedroom door from his trouser pocket and passed it to Marie as Rosa emerged from the spare room, dragging Tigger behind her. "I've hidden away some things in there that I didn't think Rosa should get her hands on, so, it's probably best kept locked unless one of us is there to watch her. I'll be getting some sort of safe for what's in the closet, but I haven't had time, yet. Why don't you unpack? I'll show Rosa the rest of the house and you can catch up with us when you're ready." He placed her bag on the floor beside the locked door.

Curiosity drove Marie to head straight for the closet as soon as she had dumped her bag on the bed. At first she saw only clothes, but then, on the shelf above the closet door, she noticed the items to which Wes had referred. She pulled down the pump-action shotgun. She'd come across enough weapons in her time as an attorney to have learned the basics, although she had never fired one. The safety catch was on and when she checked, she found the weapon wasn't loaded. Once she had confirmed that the same was true of all three handguns that were there, she replaced them all back on the shelf. She sat down on the bed, unzipping her bag but getting no further with her unpacking than that. For all she had known about Wes's work, the violence inherent to it had never really registered until that moment. He was being up front about it. If he hadn't said anything, she might never have noticed the weapons there. Obviously, they were as secure as he could make them, under the circumstances, but something about having a gun in the same house as her child made her blood run cold, and she was sure that there would also be enough bladed weapons hidden away to give her nightmares. For the first time since Lily had commented on her attraction to the Brit, Marie began to wonder if acting on that attraction had been the right thing to do.

She knew that Wes was a good man and however many firearms he owned, that fact wouldn't change. She just wasn't sure any more that it was safe for Rosa to be around him.

 

* * * * *

 

"I should go see mommy," Rosa announced as Wes showed her the back yard, pointing out that she wasn't allowed to play near the spa unless he or her mother were there. "She's sad."

"She's sad? How do you know?"

The little girl shrugged. "I just know."

"Maybe I should speak to her?"

The girl shook her head as the breeze carried the distant echo of Wes's doorbell. "You have to speak to the angry men."

Wes ushered the girl toward the back door. "Go see your mommy. Don't let her answer the door. I'll speak to whoever is there, okay? Now be careful you don't fall or anything."

Wes made his way around the side of the house at a brisk walk, hoping to intercept his visitors before Marie could answer the door. Wes would have liked to pretend that he was surprised at their identity but he had almost been expecting it, and Rosa's description was more than apt.

"Quentin, Lydia, I thought you might show up sooner or later. I'm afraid the rest of you are after my time. I would ask Quentin to do the introductions but I really don't care. I gather Faith packed off the flunkies you sent to the graveyard to fetch her last night with their tails between their legs." Wes slowed his pace to a stroll as he stepped onto the front porch, facing the group head on.

"Well," Travers drawled. "I really don't see that our business with Faith has anything to do with why we're here."

"Doesn't it? My impression was that you wanted to use Faith as a saboteur within Buffy's household and when she turned you down you thought I was your next best choice."

"Nonsense, Wesley. Faith has yet to hear our offer. She merely requested that if I wanted to speak to her I should seek her out directly. As to why we're here, we simply heard that you were in the area and thought we would pay a social call to see how you were doing. Your father sends his regards, by the way... though he did seem surprised to discover that you had... How did he put it? ...Slunk out of Los Angeles like a thief in the night."

"I did not slink. I came back to Sunnydale because Buffy asked me to and I never hid where I was going or what my plans were from anyone."

"You simply neglected to mention either these plans, or the fact that your employment with Angel Investigations had been terminated to your parents."

"My relationship with my parents is not up for discussion here."

"There's no need to be touchy, Wesley. We, as a group, invested a great deal in your training. I am here to ascertain whether your return to Sunnydale might indicate that you no longer adhere to that ridiculous loyalty you appeared to offer that abomination by whom you were employed in Los Angeles. Shall we just say that we have yet to totally write off our investment in you?"

"You can say whatever you like-." Wes, and those facing him, turned as the front door of the house opened.

"Wes?" Marie asked, with a determination that many of the local attorneys would have easily recognised. "Is there a problem?"

"No problem at all. I was just letting Mr Travers know that his thirty pieces of silver weren't going to buy anyone around here." She moved past Travers and his disciples to stand next to Wes, her arm wrapping around his waist.

Quentin ignored her, as if her presence were insignificant. "A great battle is coming, Wesley. It will pit human against demon on a scale never before seen. Your father isn't the only one who will be disappointed if you choose the wrong side. Remember Miss Summers and her delinquent cohort are only two links in a chain. Slayers are... disposable. They fulfill their purpose and then they die and a new slayer is called. The Council is the constant, not the girls. If Miss Summers has so far forgotten her duty as to consort with the very demon who killed two slayers and massacred watchers and potentials by the score as if it were some macabre game, then she is no longer a fitting champion for the human race."

"I choose the side that lets me live with my conscience. Buffy does the same. She outgrew the concept of being a champion to the human race. She is a champion for the innocent, human and demon alike. Your veiled threats would not impress her and they don't impress me. You know and I know that if there is a major showdown coming, then you can't afford to have an inexperienced girl spear-heading the battle. Buffy, Spike and Faith are the best weapons that my side has. It's up to you to decide whether you stand with us or against us, not the other way around."

One of the younger watchers let out a hiss of breath that seemed far louder than it should have, reaching instinctively under his jacket. Wes's hard glare stopped his movement before the weapon he had sought became visible. Marie turned enough without relinquishing her grip on Wes's waist to see Rosa framed in the open doorway of Wes's house, her ponytail doing nothing to disguise her other than human features. "I told you to stay inside, baby."

Marie's words confirmed Wes's suspicions without any need for him to remove his gaze from the watcher who threatened the girl. "I would consider very carefully before you even think about harming someone who may some day become my step-daughter. Now... put whatever you were thinking of pulling out of that inside pocket back in there and leave."

The man had heard all sorts of stories about Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. None of them prepared him for the intimidating figure he faced. Without any conscious thought, he returned his handgun to its holster and let his hand drop once more to his side.

"We'll leave," Quentin warned. "For now... but this is far from over, Wesley."

The group turned en masse to leave, but one grey-suited figure hovered at the edge of the pack long enough to give Wes a nod and a brief smile. "You've changed, Wesley. It suits you."

Wes's mouth twitched in a self-deprecating quirk, his tone no longer unfriendly, though still slightly wary. "It would have been hard to change for the worse. You better go before he misses you, Lydia."

The blonde's gaze darted back and forth between Wes and the retreating group. "Maybe we could have a coffee or something... for old times' sake? Some time when Quentin isn't around."

"Maybe... but if you're looking to expand that thesis of yours, anything I know is off limits."

She shook her head. "No ulterior motive, just coffee," she said. Her gaze caught Marie's, which wasn't exactly friendly. "And just old acquaintances... I better catch up. I'll call."

Somehow, Wes didn't doubt that she would be able to find his number. He just didn't know whether, like him, Lydia Chalmers had changed enough to act without her mentor's approval or whether this was just another strand in the web with which Travers hoped to ensnare them all.

 

* * * * *

 

Angel's hand hovered over the phone in his office for the hundredth time since he had spoken to Spike. He even dialled the first three digits of the number for Wes's cell before he dropped the handset back into the cradle.

"I just can't do it." He spoke more to himself than to anyone else in the room, but Lorne decided to take it as his cue in any case.

"Let me, pumpkin." The red-eyed demon picked up the receiver, dialled the numbers that Angel had pressed and added a few more. "Wes? We found out where the axis is. Angel would have called but he's just about to leave to meet up with a guy who claims to have the plans for the building and its security systems. The white-chocolate love muffin and his lady are coming down from Sunnydale tomorrow morning to see if they can help out and he suggested you might make a useful addition to the team. Are you in?"

"I'll be there."

"You- em want-."

"I said I'll be there, Lorne." Wes successfully concealed his impatience. "Believe me, Buffy and Spike won't manage to leave for a trip to LA without making enough noise to wake me." Wes ended the call and placed the phone down on the nearest available surface. His eyes sought out Marie's. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

 

* * * * *

 

"Thank you, Lorne. At least someone wants to get me back... Now I guess I can check and see who did make prom queen... not that there's much in the way of competition these days."

Almost entirely for the sake of appearances, Spike had parked the Harley so that there was at least one graveyard between it and Dawn's school. He and Buffy were undertaking what could be termed a patrol... if they happened to be patrolling for the very few vamps who might not recognise either one of them and who might just be attracted to Buffy's bright chatter, rather than scurrying off or melting into the shadows at the sound of her voice.

"There's nothing we can do about the dresses or the suits until Short Round says we're ready for the first fittings, so check on that... kinda."

"Check, so long as you don't call him Short Round to his face or your dress is like to end up shredded."

"We've got the flowers ordered."

"Check on the flowers."

"We've got the church and the minister and the reception hall."

"And amen to that," Spike replied in not particularly happy fashion.

Buffy pouted. "Special day," she reminded him.

"Funny... I recall it as two days that were special only in that I didn't know anything could be so mind-numbingly boring... trailing round every reception hall in the county, with you turning down several perfectly good venues before we finally found the one that 'looked how you remembered it'."

"It was your vision, too."

"Yeah, but I wasn't trying to memorise the wallpaper for later comparison. My attention was on you, not the soddin' room."

"I didn't either at the time. I got Giles to help me meditate so that I could try to remember the details."

"And we couldn't have let our fingers do the walking rather than taking the bike 'round all of them?"

"You didn't have to take me. I could have gone on my own."

"The hell you could. One dent in my baby's bumper was quite enough."

"It's tiny, you big wuss. You can barely see it. That car's built like a tank."

"That's not the point... And you're still going for those lessons."

Buffy scowled at him but it wasn't very convincing. "Isn't it kinda overkill, though? Most people do a couple of lessons a week, not nine till eleven, Monday to Friday, for four weeks solid."

"You want to get it out the way before the weddin' or not? Or maybe you'd prefer to be walkin' to college? Or maybe..." His tongue ran over his teeth. "...You want to have the Niblet dropping you off on her way to high school?"

Buffy dropped his hand to beat against his chest with her fists. "Bitch," she accused. Her blows, however, barely merited the name. Spike stepped in closer, his hands sliding around her waist and then settling rather lower as he closed the distance between them entirely. Her fists opened and her hands wound around his neck, pulling his head down in order to occupy that wicked mouth in another way.

Buffy was dimly aware that the hem of her knee-length skirt was creeping higher and the tiny part of her brain that could concentrate on anything other than how good he made her feel tried really hard to make her do something to stop him, to protest, for practical reasons if nothing else, not that Spike wasn't fully aware it was that time of the month. Her hands, however, had a mind of their own. A trailing finger teased the flesh where the marks of her teeth never seemed to fade. Spike flung his head back, gasping for air while her other hand slid between their bodies, loosening the heavy silver buckle that lay between her and paradise. She popped the button on his waistband, flipped the tab up on his zipper and let pressure do the rest, his zip sliding down of its own accord.

She hooked a booted leg behind his and pushed him back so that he fell in the soft grass, half hidden in the dappled shadow of a rhododendron bush.

Then, in the fraction of a second as their eyes locked before she sank down to join him, they heard the scream.

 

* * * * *

 

"Can you see him?" Brandon asked.

"Nope, I think we're clear... for now. This is so unfair. We get away from the psycho sister and her boyfriend for the night and then we get to have your dad watch us all night."

"He's-."

"Excuse me." Kirsty pushed through between the couple, followed by her entourage as if there hadn't been more than ample space for her to pass behind them, knocking Dawn backwards in the process.

"Jeez, guess you should stop kidding yourself that that butt is a size six," Dawn muttered under her breath.

The blonde in her scarlet satin dress and matching lipstick swivelled on her heel.

"What did you say?"

Dawn took a breath. She hadn't backed down in front of Sam. She sure as hell wasn't going to let Kirsty bully her any more. "I said that you should stop kidding yourself that your gargantuan butt is going to fit through spaces that are too small for it, especially when you're wearing a dress so tight that everybody can see exactly how big it really is."

There was a stunned intake of breath from Kirsty's court. "Coming from someone whose dress looks like her mother picked it... Oh wait, you don't have a mother... And your sister doesn't make enough flipping burgers to buy you a new T-shirt once in a blue moon, so I guess either you stole it or you found something in your size at the charity shop. I guess beggars can't be choosers." Kirsty's voice began to draw the attention of those outside her own little circle occupying that quadrant of the hall, aiming to turn the argument into a public humiliation.

"If you can't recognise this season's Paul Sternam," Dawn said, naming the small but up-and-coming designer in LA where Buffy had found her dress. "...Then you should keep your ignorance to yourself. But then, what can you expect from such a tacky, whorish, less than subtle tramp, who's only going to make prom queen because she's dated half the football team and Shelley has chicken pox? Other than a dress that looks like its own red-light zone, that is?"

"Since you couldn't win a popularity contest in a leper colony if you were giving it away, I don't think your opinion will count for much."

"You can talk about giving it away, when the slit on your dress goes so high everyone can tell you're not wearing underwear."

"Miss Summers! A word..." The rich baritone could only mean one thing... busted. As she looked up, the principal crooked his finger in her direction, beckoning her over. Brandon took her elbow and escorted her, refusing to be intimidated by the man's pointed glance.

The man shook his head at Dawn. "What are we going to do with you, Miss Summers? Much as Miss Walker would benefit from being taken down a peg or two, and granted her dress is somewhat unseemly on a girl of her age, I did feel obliged to intervene before things developed into a cat fight." The principal pulled a detention pad from his pocket, scribbled something on it, folded the top sheet and passed it to Dawn. "Perhaps you and your date could find some amusement at the other end of the hall while I speak to Miss Walker."

Dawn's mouth turned into a frown as she and Brandon moved off in the proposed direction. "She pushes into me and I get..." Dawn's complaint died away as she read the words on the slip of paper. Instead of saying when and for how many days she had detention, the slip simply said, "Enjoy the party."

To judge by Kirsty's body language at the far end of the hall, her slip didn't convey the same message. Brandon pulled the piece of paper from Dawn's fingers, reading what was written there before he pushed it into his jacket pocket and drew her toward the area of the floor where people were dancing. "Better do what the man says."

 

* * * * *

 

"Get it off me!" The cry came from somewhere between them and where they had left the motorcycle, but the sound of running footsteps was coming straight toward them.

"Balls!" Spike swore as their own version of double vision kicked in. Buffy took off in the direction the voice had come from, while he was left trying to rearrange his jeans without catching anything vital in his zipper. He was still doing up his belt and had just flipped to his feet as she was almost knocked over by some short-arse in a tux, wearing the panicked expression of someone fleeing for his life. Chivalry is dead. The thought echoed through both their minds as one.

Another couple of seconds and Spike was off in pursuit of his beloved, even if he was tempted to leave the rescue to Buffy and intercept the fleeing youth to give him a piece of his mind instead. Buffy slipped a stake from her coat pocket, able now to see the fledgling struggling with his intended victim in the circular rose garden at the centre of the graveyard, its border of evergreens intended to give visitors an illusion of privacy. A pair of high-heels lay on the path nearby, as if the girl had kicked them off to better run from her pursuer, but even as Buffy narrowed the gap, the demon used his grip on the girl's bare arm to pull her close. By the time she was within fifteen feet, Spike had joined her in the clearing.

"Now!" The call was followed by a series of clicks and hisses as several crossbows loosed their bolts into the clearing. The fledgling turned to dust... and had Spike not grabbed the bolt aimed at his own chest from the air with millimetres to spare he would have, too.

"What the-." Buffy spun around as half a dozen crossbow-wielding girls stepped from the cover of the trees. Spike's attention was focused solely on the teenager who had fired on him as she struggled to reload. He closed the distance between them in seconds.

"What the hell was that for? I was comin' to help."

He snatched the weapon from her hands before knocking her to the ground with a spinning kick. By the time he had both feet back on the ground he knew Buffy had his back.

"Liar. Vampire."

"So? I wasn't the one attacking anyone."

"I know who you are. You are the other one... with The Scourge."

"The other one?" Spike barely restrained the urge to kick the prone girl in the stomach hard enough to make her spit blood. Several of the other girls now pointed their weapons in both his and Buffy's directions, though none were yet ready to fire again. Spike spat in disgust when he realised that cerise hair peeked out from beneath the dark baseball cap one of them was wearing and he planted a booted foot firmly on the neck of the girl he had knocked to the ground, not yet exerting any pressure, but the threat there, nevertheless.

A man dressed in dark slacks and sweater stepped over to the girl the fledgling had attacked, helping her up and passing her her shoes. "If you'd care to wait, my dear, I'll be happy to escort you wherever you were going." The English accent was no surprise to anyone other than the girl to whom he spoke.

"Call off your bitches, watcher." Spike called out. "They're out of their league."

"Lower your weapons, girls. I don't think any of you are ready to take on William the Bloody, quite yet."

"Or ever," Buffy corrected.

"Miss Summers, I presume. I had been led to believe from the accounts in Mr Giles' diaries that your patrols were normally confined to Sunnydale and the UC campus... though perhaps this wasn't actually a patrol." His gaze lingered on where a corner of Spike's shirt poked through between his zip and his belt buckle. "Would you be so good as to call off your attack dog? This really is just a misunderstanding."

"Yes, you misunderstand what you can get away with. Spike is no one's attack dog. He's my future husband. Tell Travers that I want it made absolutely clear to all his people that Spike is not to be harmed. Tell him that if there are any more misunderstandings I will assume that he, personally, is responsible. I'm sure he'll understand me."

"I'm sure he will. Now, perhaps you could ask your future husband to stop standing on my charge?"

"Ask him yourself... but I'd do it real nice because he gets kinda cranky when people assume he's at my beck and call." Buffy turned and walked over to where the young girl who had been attacked was sitting.

Spike gave an evil grin and lifted that scarred eyebrow. "Say please!"

 

* * * * *

 

In the end it wasn't the watcher and his band of potentials who escorted the girl home. She had been going to stay there, but Buffy convinced her that they would wait for her while she sponged a couple of marks out of her dress and put on some fresh hose, and that Buffy would be able to talk to Mr Michaels to make sure the girl was allowed into the gym, even though her date had absconded with both their tickets.

As soon as the girl disappeared into the house the slayer hissed at Spike. "Did you have to stand on her?"

Spike shrugged in response. "Probably not... but it was the easiest way to make sure she didn't stick one of those crossbow bolts in me when I wasn't looking."

"Spike, when you humiliate someone like that you make enemies."

"Uh-huh? An' before... when she was firing wooden bolts in the general area of my heart she was my bestest bud, I suppose? 'Course, I could have broke her neck or something instead.

Now, are we done with the inquisition?"

"S'pose."

"Okay." Spike slid his arms around her shoulders and rested his forehead against hers. "Invitations... Photographer... Cake... And of course, if you still want that chocolate cheesecake for dessert, then we have to fix that, too."

"Invitations, photographer, cake and cheesecake. What about the rehearsal dinner?"

"Not a clue, love. Other than the fact it's something you Yanks do, I know nothing about them. Never been to one, no idea what's meant to happen at one. What is the point by the way? Are our colonial friends so backward they need to have a practice run before they can eat or is it just a way of stiffing us with the bill for another meal?"

"Very funny. So what do you have?"

"Well, the minister goes through who should be where with the best man and the bridesmaids and what-not at some point beforehand, but no dinner. There's normally an afternoon reception for the family and the close friends with a sit down dinner and speeches an' stuff, and then all and sundry turn up for the evenin' do, but it's normally a buffet thing. Then again, mostly people aren't having the service at half past eight at night... And I'm kinda guessin' that it won't be too much of a push to invite everybody we want for a sit down meal and sort of combine the two, seein' as how there's not really that many as we want to invite.

But... if you've got your heart set on a rehearsal dinner as well... just so long as you don't wear that frilly orange spandex thing..."

"Pig."

"Uh-huh." Spike grunted his agreement. "So what is the point of this rehearsal dinner thing?"

"Why does there have to be a point? It's like everything else. It's tradition."

Spike snorted. "If it's so traditional, how come we weren't doing it back in my day?"

 

* * * * *

 

"Am I being paranoid or are people talking about us?" Dawn whispered in Brandon's ear.

"You're not paranoid and people are talking about you."

"Shit. You think maybe we could slip out for a bit? This is kinda freaksome."

"Relax. Dance. You're under orders to enjoy yourself."

"But everybody's watching."

"Just because you stood up to that bitch and they all wish it was them who'd done it... That and the guys have all realised that they've missed their chance now."

"More like all the girls are giving me the evil eye for being with the best looking guy in the room."

"Well, that bit went without saying," he teased, not believing for a second that she was serious. "Come on. You did the hard part standing up to her. Now, you need to hang in there or she'll think you've wussed out. And besides, you know if we disappear for longer than it takes to go to the loo and dad can't find us straight away that he'll ring your sister."

"Okay.... Alright already, we'll dance."

 

* * * * *

 

Cordy took advantage of her magical viewpoint to peer over people's shoulders as they filled in their voting slips. "And I said she wasn't in the running. Not that she'll get the tiara, though, but hey, considering her name isn't officially on the ballot... I remember when I was May Queen in my freshman year... Of course, there was some invisible psycho stalking me, but other than that… And I have so got to stop talking to myself, otherwise when Angel does finally get around to rescuing me I'm going to do something really embarrassing."

Marie took a deep breath, her gaze returning often to where Rosa was playing in Wes's back yard with her new stuffed friend. "I'm not sure, yet, that there is a wrong. Maybe it's just that I need to think some things through."

"I might be able to help... I'm not Lily, but I can try."

"I'm scared, Wes, not for me, but for Rosa.

I think, already, that maybe you've claimed a little piece of my heart. I mean you're brave, you're principled, you're willing to stand up for what you believe in and all that is part of what attracted me to you from the start... but it's also why you need to keep guns in your closet and it's why you make the sort of enemies who, should they think it's expedient, will use my daughter to get to you. I guess, in a way I sort of knew all this but seeing all those guns just made it that bit clearer."

"I see... Marie, it's natural to want to protect your child... and you're not the first woman who has had second thoughts about being in a relationship with me because of my choice of career, though in her case it was the fear that I would be hurt that she was unable to cope with. Being a mother just makes it so much harder for you. It's always a lot easier to risk yourself than it is to accept those risks on behalf of another."

"Wes, if it were just me... I would choose you in a minute. I spend my life trying to convince people to do what is right, to come forward and testify, even if it puts them at risk. I should be willing to do that myself, but it's Rosa. How can I be happy if it's at the expense of her safety?"

"You can't." Wes wrapped his arms around her and placed a kiss on her forehead and they both knew that they were saying goodbye.

Something seemed to break behind Marie's eyes, as if she had hoped that Wes would be able to somehow allay her fears or reason around them. Unfortunately, Wes was no better equipped to deal with the problem now than he had been when he had dated Virginia Bryce.

 

* * * * *

 

"Summers' residence." Faith pushed Rogue down as she answered the phone.

"Ahh, Faith. So nice to speak with you... even if it is somewhat belated."

"Q, the pleasure's all yours."

"Perhaps. Though, if we were to meet, you might find that it is to your advantage."

"So your goons said, but since the last time I had dealings with The Council, your men were trying to kill me, I think I'll pass."

"The situation has changed. You have demonstrated a certain willingness to take responsibility for your actions which was lacking at the time our operatives ran into you in Los Angeles."

"That's between me and my conscience. It doesn't change anything between me and you. You still ordered your men to kill me."

"All I'm asking is that you afford me the opportunity to explain our proposal. After all, your current position cannot continue indefinitely, if for no other reason than that Social Services could call on Miss Summers and her friends at any time. I have no doubt that if they were to make a surprise visit then the consequences could be serious for all concerned."

"For someone who's claiming to be my new best bud, that doesn't sound to be very friendly."

"I have no desire to be your friend. I may, however, prove to be the best ally available to you. Miss Summers cannot protect you from the process of the law. I, however, have the influence necessary to deal with your situation. It is not the first time that a slayer has mistakenly killed an innocent. I could have the remainder of your sentence commuted over and the matter of your escape expunged from the various records... should you agree to be remanded into my care... and if you agree to the terms I'll explain when we meet, and restrain yourself from disabling any more of my representatives."

"I didn't get out of one jail to swap it for another."

"In that case, I suggest you look into finding alternative accomodation in the very near future, though without any income that may be difficult."

Quentin waited for a smart retort, but it never came. "Or you could meet me and we could discuss this like civilised people."

"Restfield Cemetery. Ten o'clock," Faith unwillingly acquiesced.

"I'll send my men to pick you up by the southern gate," the watcher replied, hanging up before Faith could protest.

 

* * * * *

 

"All sorted?" Buffy asked the girl as she rejoined them outside her house which was a couple of streets over from the far side of the cemetery, explaining why her date hadn't bothered to make sure that they had transport.

"Sure." The girl glanced down at the flat pumps she wore, her high heels now stowed in a shoulder bag which didn't quite match the rest of her ensemble, but since she planned to leave it in her locker that didn't matter so much.

"You're Dawn Summers' sister, right?"

"She's my sister, yeah."

Spike smiled at the way Buffy obviously brindled at the inference that her identity was subordinate to Dawn's. "That why you came with us rather than Prince Edward and his girlies? You know Dawn?"

"Not really. I mean I think we have a couple of the same classes but I never really spoke to her... And the whole arrows missing me by inches, not exactly a confidence builder. My brother used to date this girl from Sunnydale, though, so he kinda heard stuff, but I was never sure if he was pulling my leg."

"Nope. All true, well, unless it's about me and the swim team."

"So did you really blow up the school?"

"Well... not personally..."

 

* * * * *

 

"Hey," Faith pushed open the door to Tara's room wide enough to let Rogue push her way in and make her way over to where the witch was lying on her back reading through a folder of notes that was propped up against her thighs. It took the pup seconds to jump onto the bed and stick her head right on top of the folder.

The slayer grinned. "I'm heading out to find something ugly, squat and slimy and pretend that it's Quentin Travers while I bludgeon it to death with my bare hands, so I thought I better leave Mutley here with you."

"You're right. She's too young to witness a fatal bludgeoning. Any particular reason for the watcher fantasy?"

"That was him on the phone before. I kinda got cornered into saying that I'd talk to him, so I figure if by twelve I'm not back and I'm not answering that phone, then you know he's got me in his secret torture chamber, making me pay for my past sins." Faith referred to what had previously been one of the spare cell phones, which had over the past few days become more or less Faith's by default. "Either that or it's gotten to be so long since I had a real man that I've given in and decided to just ride him till he drops, which, come to think of it, same diff."

 

* * * * *

 

Buffy and Spike looked down on the gym through one of the skylights that were set into the flat roof like faceted gems. A melodious ballad was muted only slightly by the glass and below them numerous couples, including Dawn and Brandon, barely swayed in time to the music. The girl they had brought with them finally entered the hall and joined her friends, letting Buffy relax once more.

"I can't believe her date was hanging 'round the parking lot, trying to find a girl who didn't have a ticket," Buffy told Spike, as her gaze switched to where Dawn and Brandon were.

The vampire's arms slid around her waist and his cheek rested against hers. "An' I can't believe you wouldn't at least let me put him in that dumpster with the rest of the trash."

"The guy was already scared witless."

"An' his lass could've been vamp food and he never even bothered to tell anybody that anythin' had happened. If Romeo down there had done that when those guys came after Dawn, I'd have strung him up somewhere an' left him for a week or two."

"He's a teenage male. Most of them are jerks. I never dated a decent one, except maybe Pike and he was kinda reticent about how old he was. I think it's a hormone thing. Fortunately, Dawn seems to have found an exception... or he's too scared not to behave."

"So, are we just goin' to hang around up here all night then, pet?"

"For a while. Not all night. Why?"

Spike turned Buffy within his arms. "No point lettin' a song like this go to waste if you don't have other plans." Buffy leant her cheek against his shoulder, matching her footsteps to his. She inhaled the scent of his cologne and made believe that the music was just for them.

 

* * * * *

 

Rosa's head lifted. They had made it worse. Grown ups were really stupid sometimes... Well, most grown ups. She picked up Tigger and headed for the back porch. When she got there she climbed, not onto her mother's lap, but Wes's.

"You were supposed to make her feel better," she told him. "Now you're both sad. You're not very good at this, are you?"

Wes gave the girl a rueful smile. "I guess not, but then, some things just aren't easily fixed."

"That's okay. Grandma says nobody's good at everything."

"Your grandmother is a wise woman."

"Is mommy still upset about the stuff upstairs?"

Marie leaned over to stroke the little girl's forehead. "Sort of, baby, but it's not so simple. Wes and I have been thinking maybe we shouldn't keep seeing each other."

"But, if it makes you both sad, then it's silly and I'd miss him and grandma likes him, too."

"It's just too difficult to explain, honey."

"It's silly. Wes needs all those things for his job. It's not like he's going to rob a bank or something."

"I know that. It's just that his work means he has to deal with a lot of bad people and I don't want those sort of people around you."

"Then you're still being dumb. You work with bad people. Bad people are everywhere. They hurt daddy. They hurt Unker Will. They hurt Dawn and her boyfriend. Some day they might try to hurt grandma or Unker Clem or the cat lady or you or me, but Wes and Unker Will and Auntie Buffy they went and they got Dawn back, just like they would come get me or any of the rest of us. If the bad men wanted to hurt me, I'd feel safer with Wes there."

"Baby, no one is going to hurt you, not unless they go through me first."

"I know, mommy, but Wes is scarier than you... not as scary as Unker Will when he's mad, or different scary, but way scarier than you... And he can teach me stuff so that when I'm bigger I'll be able to look after myself better." The girl smiled as she sensed her mother reach some sort of equanimity. "Now, can we order dinner? Tigger's hungry."

"Sure. Why don't you fetch those menus from the kitchen so we can decide?"

Wes's gaze followed the girl as she pushed open the back door. "What age did you say she was again?"

"Five and a half... going on a thousand."

"She's right, you know? If anyone ever tried to hurt her we would all do whatever we could to get her back..."

There was so much that Marie wanted to say, but for once her much practiced courtroom eloquence failed her, so she cheated. She reached out with a finger, resting it on Wes's lips and then lightly dragging her nails over the stubble that gave his face a hardened look until her fingers twined themselves into his hair. She leaned in so that she could cover his lips with her own and if there was a degree of hesitancy still in her caress, there was also trust and tenderness. Her eyes read his face as she pulled back. "I know... and I know that you would protect her even if we weren't dating... just to clear up any worries you might have about ulterior motives."

"Even if we weren't dating?"

"A girl's allowed to change her mind."

"Provided that was the last time you change it. You see, I think I may well be teetering on the brink of falling in love... with you and your daughter."

By the time that their food arrived, Rosa was content that the two grown ups were going to behave and not get any more silly ideas. They had moved back into the house once they were ready to place their order and Wes had opened a bottle of wine. Any earlier awkwardness was gone and Wes had propped up a large cushion, half resting against the arm of the settee, half on his thigh so that Marie could lie back against him. His left forearm was draped across her midriff, his fingers twined with those of her left hand and, though he occasionally used his right arm to reach over the chair arm and lift his glass to his lips, his hand more often stroked Marie's long dark hair in an unconscious but tender gesture while they talked. 'And about time,' the little girl thought to herself as she watched discreetly, pretending to be too interested in her new toy to pay the pair much attention. Once she was sure they weren't going to do everything wrong again, it wasn't even an act.

Rosa supervised the pair for another two hours, in any case, which was more or less the time required to share a large amount of Chinese food and watch a Disney movie. Then, she let them pay court around her bed for the night, taking turns to read pages from 'The Wind in the Willows' until her eyes drifted closed, her arms wrapped firmly around the bright orange plush tiger.

Marie lifted the book from Wes's hands, shifting the bookmark before she closed it, and set it on the bedside table next to the monitor she normally employed. She took him by the hand as they crept from the room. Once the door was firmly, if very quietly closed behind them, Wes used their joined hands to draw the latina back toward him. His other hand reached to cup her cheek as he paused, his lips only half an inch from Marie's. "I've been wanting to do this for hours," he whispered, still conscious of small, flapping ears just the other side of a thin door.

It was Marie who closed that last half inch. Their first brief touch was like the opening spatters of rain after a drought, wondrous but a long way from being enough.

 

* * * * *

 

"Come on, love." Spike tried to lead Buffy toward the edge of the roof. "You said we weren't stoppin' here all night an', if you want to have a hope of convincin' her that we actually did the rounds, then we probably want to clear out."

"Heyyy, we've got a witness to prove we at least went looking for vamps."

"An' the fact that this witness can put us right here at the school, talking to the kid's old man?"

"Is totally irrelevant?" Buffy's shoulders dropped and she started to follow the vamp as if there were lead weights in her shoes. "Okay, you're right. If we don't go somewhere that is else we're going to be totally busted."

When they reached the back edge of the building, Spike swept Buffy into his arms. "Hold on tight. The first step's a doozy." He stepped over the edge and plummeted twenty feet to the ground, letting his legs absorb the impact before he placed Buffy back on her own feet again. "Now, if you didn't look hot as hell in that get up of yours, I might be tempted to point out its impracticality... again, but-"

"Okay, so the skirt-motorcycle combination was not of the best, and I can't compete with your Spiderman impersonation in these boots, but at least I didn't look out of place when we had to talk to Mr Michaels-."

"As I was saying, but I will point out that there's but one decent drinkin' establishment in this sinkhole an' seein' as you're all dressed up pretty like, we might as well try our luck there, as trail 'round the graveyards an' get you dirty."

"You want us to patrol in a club?"

"Well, to coin that phrase of which you California folk are so fond... Duh? It's Friday night an' I'm a big bad vamp out lookin' for fresh meat. What'm I gonna do? Head for the hottest spot in town and find myself a tasty little mini-skirted morsel or skulk in a graveyard in the hope that someone who isn't armed with a crossbow will decide to just wander through in the middle of the night?"

"So, we'll pretend that the fact that cemeteries don't serve alcohol has no bearing on your opinion and move onto the other problem with that bit of logic. You want to tell me why when I patrol the graveyards I keep findin' vamps?"

"That's the newbies. Sometimes takes them a while to find a place to hang their hat. I mean, who's goin' to live in a cemetery?"

Buffy cleared her throat loudly and stared at the leather-clad blond as if he'd lost his mind.

"Let me rephrase that, who would live in a cemetery if they were worried about runnin' into a slayer... as opposed to placin' themselves right in her flight path."

"Are you saying that you lived in a crypt so that you would see me?"

"Wh-what? No. God, no." Spike stuttered, not wanting to even examine the subject of exactly how long he had been in love with Buffy too closely in his own mind, let alone set Buffy's imagination to work. "Just... central location, handy for the sewers, four walls an' a roof ready made. All points in its favour which, for your average vamp, would be negated by the fact that you go marchin' 'round the neighbourhood on a regular basis, as opposed to some cave with a stream runnin' down the wall or some pretentious mansion that still only has runnin' water in the garden, is too big to keep clean an' is about as far from what passes for civilisation in Sunnyhell as it can be whilst still fallin' within city limits, an', of course, since the obvious plan of action for 'what to do if the rightful owner turned up an' didn't like his new tenant' was no longer an option I'd have been kinda... charcoal."

"Methinks the vamp doth protest too much," Buffy sing-songed, as she skipped backwards away from him.

"An' methinks, if you think, then we better declare a public holiday... An' the club is over that way."

 

* * * * *

 

Marie held Wes at arms length as they both struggled for air. "I'm sorry," she gasped between breaths that made her breasts heave. "We should-."

"Sorry for what?" he asked, drawing her away from her daughter's bedroom door.

"I shouldn't let things get so-. It's too much, when I'm not ready to... I'm not like this. I'm not a tease."

Though his bedroom was closer, the watcher led the woman downstairs and seated her on one of the sofas before pulling over a footstool so that he could sit opposite her. "You're not a tease... but you are like this. You are a wonderful contradiction, and whatever you may have been brought up to believe, there is nothing wrong in being that way."

"But-."

"Marie, you're a beautiful, passionate woman. It shows in everything that you do. Your feelings for Rosa, your friendships, your enthusiasm for your work, and in our relationship. However, I'm aware that you are about as far from promiscuous as it is possible to be. Believe me when I say that I love both those things about you. When we do make love..." The watcher's eyelids closed, as if for a second he was anticipating that future time. "It will be special for both of us.

In the meantime, let me worry about my self-control. I would rather cope with a little minor frustration than feel that you're having to hold back on my account, like you feel you have to be on your guard around me. I'm not some youth who is unable to control himself.

If we spend all our time trying to avoid any sort of intimacy, then it will only serve to make you more self-conscious about it, and build a barrier between us. Trust me, I would rather have a thousand moments like our kiss upstairs where we step back afterwards, take a few deep breaths and regroup, than have you ever feel uncomfortable."

"Wes," Marie took his hands in hers. "I can't make any guarantees. I'm hoping things are going to work out between us. I already have feelings for you and so does Rosa, but this is all early days and I don't know when I'm going to feel able to give you what you want."

"What I want is a woman at my side who wants to be there. I want someone who has the same sort of intense long-lived feelings for me that I have for her. I even want a woman who hopes that, when we get around to it, that our kids look like me, as much as I want them to look like her. Contrary to popular belief, that doesn't often happen overnight and it's not something that can be rushed, but it is something that I believe is worth waiting for."

"Me too, but it's hard. Thomas was my best friend before that friendship turned to love, and I came to want him because I loved him. It was so much easier than this. I know you can make me weak at the knees with just one kiss. I don't know how much of that is hormones and how much is because of the feelings I have for you. It's not your self-control that worries me. It's mine."

"Then, I shall just have to ensure that you incontrovertibly fall head over heels at the earliest opportunity. How am I doing with that?"

Marie gave a shy smile. "Scoring high in all categories."

"Glad to hear it. Maybe christening the jacuzzi is taking things too fast for now, though?" Wes offered Marie a chance to back out of their earlier plans.

"Perhaps, but we've got at least one film to watch before we have to decide."

"I'll leave the water heater on, then, shall I?"

"Why not?"

 

* * * * *

 

"This place is kinda like The Bronze, except it's darker and my feet are sticking to the floor. Shouldn't that contravene some health code or other?" Buffy asked.

Spike shrugged. "Looks like the place has gone downhill. Used to be a bit more upmarket."

"Which decade would that be?"

"'Bout four year back. C'mon." Spike drew Buffy toward a set of narrow stairs she hadn't even noticed before, pulling aside the chain that stretched across them with its 'No Admittance' sign."

"Spike?"

"Get over yourself. There're some gantries for the lighting crew, let us get the lie of the land, once we check that no one else is usin' them."

The body slammed into Spike fast enough that he had to take a couple of steps back as he caught it. She was limp in his arms, fresh blood dripping from her neck, but her heart still pumped, even if it was weakly. Spike thrust the girl into Buffy's arms and took off in pusuit of the vampire, who, alerted by his and Buffy's conversation had thrown her at him. He trailed his prey more by scent than sight, springing from platform to platform until he reached an open skylight. Buffy was left to look after the girl, keeping pressure on the wound and calling for an ambulance. Apprehending the culprit was his job. Spike took to the rooftops with glee, thrilled that he might perhaps have found a worthy opponent.

 

* * * * *
Saturday, May 25th, 2002

 

"We're back. Hello?" Dawn called out.

"Hi, sweetie!" Tara's voice echoed downstairs closely followed by the girl herself. "How did it go?"

"Someone managed to get thirty votes for May Queen, even though she wasn't on the ballot slip," Brandon told the witch proudly.

"How did you manage that, honey?"

Brandon grinned and answered for her. "I think it might have had something to do with telling the only freshman on the cheerleading squad that she looked like a hooker in front of about a quarter of the school."

"I didn't say she looked like a hooker. I said she was whorish and it was only about a quarter of the freshmen, not a quarter of the school."

"Doesn't matter. Everyone in our year knows already. If it wasn't last week of term, for everybody other than Kirsty, the whole school would know by Monday."

"Where are Spike and Buffy?" Dawn questioned Tara again.

"Buffy called from the hospital before. Sounded like they ran into some trouble. Buffy got left with the patch up and Spike was in hot pursuit."

"Did she say when they'd be back?"

Tara shrugged. "She spoke to Faith. I don't know."

"Is it okay if Brand stays for a while?"

"It's fine by me."

"Guess since we have an actual sofa that Faith's out?"

Before Tara could answer the sound of a large motorcycle pulling up at the side of the house alerted them to Spike's return. The three moved through the kitchen to the back porch to check whether the vampire had brought Buffy home with him.

By the time Dawn and Buffy had exchanged reports on the night's happenings, everyone had forgotten about Faith again. It was only when Buffy went to get the milk from the fridge that they found the note.

"Faith? Is this your handwriting?" Buffy called through to the living room.

"She's not here. She said she was going out on patrol and then she was meeting Travers, but she made it back again. Then, sometime after you called, she must have gone back out. She's probably at The Bronze or something."

Spike pulled the note from Buffy's fingers.

"What does that even mean?" the slayer asked. "'So long and thanks for all the fish'? We never even had fish. Pizza, burgers, Mexican, no fish."

Spike put the note down on the counter, slipping his arms around Buffy's waist and resting his cheek against hers. "It means that someone developed a taste for classic literature while she was banged up. It also means she's gone."

"Let's hope it doesn't mean that she knows the world's about to explode," Brandon added.

Marie's hand reached out to quiet the nearby ringing noise. When she found it was coming from a cell phone rather than the expected alarm clock she had to try to clear the sleep from her eyes to work out which key to press to answer it. "Qué pasa?" she asked in a half whisper.

"Well, 'mornin', beautiful. Was expectin' our English friend to answer..." Marie could hear the wicked amusement in the blond's voice.

"I was nearer. You need to talk to him?"

"That I do."

She tugged at the arm around her waist. "Wes? Wake up. Spike's on the phone."

Even half awake, Wes pressed a kiss against Marie's hair before he took the phone from her. "What is it, Spike?"

"Thought I'd better check see whether 'His High and Mighty-ness' actually got off his butt to call ya."

"He called, or rather he got Lorne to do it for him," Wes confirmed.

"And?"

"And I told him that I'd be there."

"Right then. We're heading out in about three quarters of an hour. 'S up to you whether you want to come with us or make your own way there. There's a box of doughnuts an' some of Starbucks' finest on your doorstep. Feel free to join us but we reckoned you might want to wake up a bit before you join the madhouse... Which by the way is minus one dark slayer inmate as of last night."

"I shall see what the ladies have to say."

"Right. If we don't catch you before we go, we'll see you in LA... An' Wes, you've been awake more than a minute. Isn't it about time you said good mornin' to the girl properly?"

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Mind your own business." Wes ended the call, dropped the phone as gently as he could and checked to make certain that Rosa was nowhere in sight or earshot before he not so much followed the vampire's suggestion as did exactly what he had intended to do in any case.

 

* * * * *

 

"Heyyy," Dawn protested. "No fair. You already had a jelly." Even though she knew she had almost no hope of success she tried to wrestle the last one from Spike, who in turn held the pastry just out of reach behind his back.

"And I was the one as got up an' went to the baker's to get them while you were still in your pit." Spike's attention wavered as the door of the house on the far side of the street opened to reveal Marie dressed in a towelling robe. Wes was visible behind her in similar lack of attire and the vampire grinned as Marie passed the box of pastries to him before picking up the two coffees and the orange juice. Dawn snatched the jelly from the vampire's hand just before Rogue got there and hightailed it for her room, in case he decided to mount a pursuit, with the puppy following close behind.

The vampire decided he was more interested in a different kind of sugar. "Get some proper clothes on while you're up there," he shouted after her. He wandered back to stand behind Buffy, an arm sliding around her waist as she perched on one of the high stools next to the central kitchen island. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and Buffy tilted her head back to respond with a more intimate caress, now that Dawn was gone. Tara couldn't help but smile at the pair. The change in Buffy's aura, in particular, over the last few weeks was not only obvious, but welcome. The deep seated depression and the stresses that had come from living a double life, hiding so much from everyone around her were gone, replaced by a contentment that Tara had feared the slayer would be unable to find after her return from the grave.

"Something funny, Tinkerbell?" Spike inquired when he eventually raised his head.

Tara shook her head, her smile unchanged. "Not funny. Just... good."

"So what's on the cards for you this fine morning?"

"I'm going over to Bee's in a couple of hours, once there's more chance of her being awake. She's going to help me cram for my Art History on Monday."

"You mean when there's less chance of you intruding on her and her demon shrink?"

"I didn't say that... but, yeah."

"She's still seeing her doctor's brother?" Buffy asked. "I thought that was just a one-off, for which you still owe her big time." She gently prodded the vamp.

"I think that's what she thought, too," Tara elucidated, "but it turned out once they got talking that they hit it off... Last night would have been their third date."

"Think Lily must be puttin' somethin' in the water over there, what with Clem an' his Bit an' Marie an' Wes an' Bee an' her Waruni."

Tara smirked. "I'll stick to bottled drinks while I'm there, then."

"How is Clem getting on?" Buffy asked.

Spike grunted. "Sure the pair of them 'ave got some sort of bloody system worked out. Cleaned every bugger else out the other night."

Buffy glanced over to where Tara was sitting, not sure if the girl was aware of the currency that the demons used in their poker games. "I thought you said cheating was part of the game so long as you could get away with it."

"Doesn't mean I have to take it with good grace."

"Like you take anything with good grace?" Buffy taunted. "Not even winning."

Spike's bottom lip protruded in a mock pout, though his eyes betrayed his amusement. "Let the Bit keep that doughnut, didn't I?"

 

* * * * *

 

Marie used her foot to tap a couple of times before she pushed open the back door of 1630, a half full coffee cup in one hand and a box in the other. "Hey there!" She ushered Rosa in ahead of her. The little girl ran straight to the vampire and Spike stepped away from Buffy to sweep her up into his arms. Wes watched the scene from the doorway, occasionally taking a sip from one of the two cups he carried.

"How's my little Rosebud this morning?" Spike asked.

"I'm okay. Mommy said that I had to leave Tigger at Wes's house, though, and now he'll get lonely..."

The vamp smirked. "Guess Wes is gonna have to buy you Roo an' Pooh an' Piglet an' Eeyore so as they can all keep each other company when you're not there."

"No, he isn't," Marie stated firmly. "And don't you encourage her, you bad man. It was hard enough prying one toy away from her and she's a lucky girl to get that."

"Not as lucky as the guy as gets the Alvarez family package." Spike's eyes slid over to Wes.

"That goes without saying," remarked Wes dryly, refusing to rise to the other man's teasing.

Marie blushed but she deposited the still half-full box of doughnuts that she carried on the counter and moved back to Wes's side.

"And what do you have to say to everyone?" Marie prompted the little girl.

"Mommy says that I should say thank you to everyone for breakfast."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "That's okay, sweetheart. It doesn't make up for waking you all up early and stealing Wes."

"Wes is taking us out tomorrow instead... so long as he gets back in time," the little girl announced. "You'll make sure he gets back, won't you?"

"We'll do our best," Buffy assured her.

The little girl squirmed her way out of Spike's arms and trotted over to claim her juice from the former watcher, leaving Spike free to investigate the box that Marie had brought, grinning as he snatched a jelly from under Buffy's nose, only to pass it over untouched at the least hint of a pout. He went to the fridge and poured a fresh mug of blood, shoving it in the microwave, instead. By the time Dawn reappeared he was alternately slurping from the mug, and using it to dunk his cinnamon doughnut, a sight that had Rosa screwing up her face.

"Mommy, Unker Will's breakfast's stinky. I feel sick."

"Okay, honey. Why don't you get some fresh air while mommy says goodbye? But stay on this side of the street till I get there."

The little girl waved her goodbyes to everyone until she reached Wes. She tugged at his jean leg as he moved to let her through and then reached up. Wes picked her up in his arms, slightly overawed when the little girl wrapped him in a bear hug and pressed her lips against his neck, before releasing her grip and wiggling back to the floor.

She gave Spike a contemplative look. Then looked again at the doughnut in his hand, blood dripping from it back into his mug. She screwed up her face and ducked through the back door.

"She's right, you know?" Dawn pointed out to the patently chagrined vamp. "Gross and stinky. Lucky we like you or you'd be banished to the basement."

Marie looked around the room. "I'm not even going to ask what's going on in LA that you all need to go there for. I have a funny feeling I don't want to know, so I'll stick with saying 'Vaya con Dios' and hope that I don't read about you in the newspapers."

She gave Spike a quick peck on the cheek before hugging Dawn and Buffy and greeting Tara with a smile and a nod. "Try to make sure they don't do anything too stupidly heroic," she said to Buffy, looking in the direction of each of the men. As she headed for the door, she took Wes's hand as soon as he was near enough for her to do so. "You know, I think my memory must be going... I can't remember where I parked my car last night."

The watcher's eyes twinkled with laughter. "I guess I'm just going to have to escort you to it, then... Back in a moment." The couple stepped out onto the porch and the door closed with a firmness that indicated Wes's desire for privacy.

"Damn good job I've still got my three best girls or I might get jealous," Spike announced.

"Don't you mean you might get more jealous?" Dawn asked, knowing full well that though the vamp was mildly envious, and worried about being displaced from Rosa's affections, he wouldn't grudge any of them the happiness they might find as a family, not when he had his own all around him.

 

* * * * *

 

Marie and Rosa had gone home. Tara's late night had caught up with her and she had decided to have a nap before she went over to Bee's place. The others had all piled into the DeSoto for the trip to LA, Buffy insisting that Wes should ride shotgun, while she shared the back seat with Dawn and Rogue.

"Are we all ready to go?" Spike asked.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Ye-e-e-s, dad."

Spike turned on the ignition and then rummaged through the tapes that were next to the car's tape deck, none of them in cases, until he found the one he wanted. Joey Ramone blasted out the opening bars of 'The KKK Took My Baby Away'. Spike sighed in contentment, pulled a pair of sunglasses from his coat pocket, put them on and set the car in motion.

They had barely cleared the drive when the singer was cut off mid sentence. There was silence for about two seconds and then something Spike was ashamed to recognise as The Backstreet Boys almost bounced from the car's speaker system.

The car slewed to a stop. "Dawn! Something you want to tell us about?" the vampire asked.

 

* * * * *

 

"No one listens to punk any more, bleach brain! She did you a favour. Now, get that junkpile moving again, get Angel, go get that Axis thingy and get me out of here!

I don't care if this plane is all metaphysical. Seventeen days is way too long to be wearing the same underwear."