Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

"I’m not finished yet, Spike." She indicated the coffee cups that remained in the sink.

"Please, for chrissake, at some point today, will one of you women just for once do something when I ask without makin’ a bloody great palaver about it?"

Anya snatched the towel, and dried off her hands. "There’s no need to snap at me just because you and Buffy have had a fight."

"I’m sorry, pet. It’s just been one of those days and it’s not half past seven, yet."

"So, what’s so important that you had to interrupt my washing up? It really won’t look good if there are dirty dishes lying around when Dawn’s caseworker gets here."

"I’ll give you a hand with them in a minute. I just wanted to talk to you before them three fill all the boxes we’ve got and head back down here."

"Well, it’s like this, we’ve got this wedding gift, and it’s kind of a couple thing, for the night of the wedding, but Buffy has different ideas about what we should be doing, so basically since it’s non-refundable and you an’ Harris seem to be the only other bona fide couple we know… I wondered if you two might want it instead."

Anya turned it over in her hands admiring the quality of the writing paper and noting the lack of name or address on the front before she slid a nail under the edge of the flap.

Anya couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer and ripped into the envelope. The contract she found inside was several pages thick, but the front page told her all she needed to know. The remaining pages were just a series of schedules, translating the plain English of the front page into the sort of legalese that eliminated any loopholes. Her eyes lit up and a massive smile appeared on her face.

"I’m sure Buffy doesn’t an’ I’m damned if I’m goin’ to spend our wedding night without her."

"Look, she’s made her opinion abundantly clear. Now, do you and your considerably less appealing other half have a use for it, or should I just use it for kindling the next time we want a fire in the dining room?"

"Well, if it’s going to waste. I mean, if you’re sure, but it just seems like this…" She peered at the almost indistinguishable signature at the bottom of the contract. "This L. Hood seems to have gone to an awful lot of trouble over everything. Take the champagne they’ve ordered for you. I know you’re a beer and bourbon guy, but that is the good stuff and a very good year. You wouldn’t get much change out of three hundred dollars a bottle… And all the other little extras…"

"Look, he won’t be going anywhere near the place. You can take it from me. Please, will you just take the damn thing? I never want to see it or hear about it again. Okay?"

The vampire pulled his lighter from his pocket and flipped it open, turning the wheel against the flint to produce a blue-yellow flame.

Anya pulled the pages in towards her body in a defensive gesture. "Alright, then, Mr Grumpy Pants, consider it taken."

Spike flicked his lighter closed and returned it to his pocket. "Right then, just stick it in your bag or your coat or somewhere and just don’t mention it again. I’ll get the rest of these, if you want to go see how they’re doing upstairs."

"Tara?" Dawn stopped packing the contents of the bookcase into one of the few strong boxes that they had. "Why would Willow have books down the back of the bookcase so that you would have to take all the other books off the shelf to get at them?" Flicking through the pages of the book the teenager gave a sigh of comprehension before continuing.

Buffy reached over her sister’s shoulder, having re-entered the room silently, and pulled the book from her hands. "Since when did bondage include pulling someone’s heart out of their body?"

"No, see you go in under the ribcage and then reach up. It’s way easier than carrying round rib spreaders all the time… And you probably didn’t need or want to know that."

Tara began to flip from page to page, skimming the text and occasionally pausing to look at some of the illustrations before she laid it on the floor.

"Well, there’s only one good reason I can think of for keeping a book like this, and that’s the argument about knowing your enemy. What that doesn’t explain is why she’d hide it. But it kind of figures. If she had the book with the summoning in, then she was going to have others." The Wiccan looked disappointed but resigned.

"So what do we do with it? Just pretend we didn’t see it? Pack it away with all the others? Or do we burn it or something or give it to Giles or Wesley?"

"I’d give it to Giles," Anya offered from the doorway as she arrived from downstairs. "He did pay for it, after all. And probably most of her thaumaturgical collection."

"You mean you sold it to her and then billed Giles? How long has that been going on?" Buffy asked amazed.

"Oh, since he went away that time and she conjured up Olaf, trying to make that ball of sunshine of hers."

"But when we cleared everything out there were hundreds of dollars worth of magic books alone…"

"A couple of thousand, actually. Magic books don’t run cheap. It’s kind of a specialised market."

"Well, that’s what I said, but I detailed everything for Giles in his profit share statements and he’s never queried anything. I assume he must be claiming it back from the Council, but I don’t know for certain. It could just be that the only numbers he understands are the ones in the Dewey Decimal system."

"Wait a minute!" Dawn interrupted. "You’re telling me that I had to work to pay off all that junk I stole, and Willow’s been ripping you off ten times worse for years, and you’ve known about it."

"Well at first, when Giles got back from England, he said it was okay. Anything she wanted that was to help Buffy could come out of his share of the profits as goods for own use. Then, once that was established, everything she wanted turned out to be to help Buffy and the price tags just got gradually bigger and bigger, but that quartz was excessive even for her. If I had known where he was staying I would have called Giles to ask him about that one, but he hadn’t booked anywhere when he was at the shop."

"Yes," Buffy stopped her before she could say too much. "But Willow at least technically had permission to take things, whereas you didn’t. Anya would have been within her rights to have you prosecuted, so you were lucky."

"Guys?" Tara interrupted. "I think the point is what we should do with these books."

"Well, I could go through them and the rest of her magic stuff and put to one side the things that Giles paid for and then he can decide what to do with them. I know personally that I will feel much safer when these things are restored to more responsible hands."

Buffy looked vaguely uncomfortable, but she didn’t see what other options she had. "Do it. We’ll bring the other boxes across from Spike’s apartment later and you can check through them."

"Does that mean we can have Kokopelli back, too?" Dawn asked, receiving a nod from her sister in reply.

Anya began to sift through the box that Dawn had just packed, removing several items that had escaped the earlier magical clear out. She was still in the middle of doing this when Tara had to make her excuses. "Look, I’m going to have to go and get ready for class."

"Oh no. I told Giles yesterday that I was taking a day off. This will be the first time in months, well, except for the two weddings, that I haven’t had to work a six-day week. Of course, I was thinking more along the lines of a manicure and a facial, but they can wait."

Tara hovered in the doorway before she left. "Willow used to keep all her magic stuff in the top couple of drawers of the dresser. You might want to check there, but then most of it should have been cleared out."

Buffy gave her a reassuring smile. "We’ll have it all sorted before you get back."

"Anything to take downstairs, yet?" Spike asked when he could no longer find anything downstairs to legitimately occupy his time. The kitchen and living room were spotless, ready for this afternoon’s visit. He’d taken the dog out for a walk. Though he knew that at some point soon a trip to the mall was called for to pick up some puppy essentials, food in particular, he couldn’t stall any longer.

"There’s a couple of boxes, but you’ll have to hold them underneath when you pick them up in case they give way." Buffy’s voice was tentative, unsure of what sort of response she was going to get but the vampire kept his response neutral.

He stooped to pick up the first of the boxes and found himself looking into Buffy’s eyes as he straightened up again. "I’ll get the other one," the slayer said as she picked it up.

Spike raised his eyes heavenward at the prospect of the argument being renewed, but didn’t make any further comment as he headed downstairs, Buffy following on behind. With the boxes deposited on the porch, Buffy reached out a hand to the vampire, to prevent him going back in.

Her grip faltered as she became aware of the enormous well of pain that the vampire seemed to be carrying round with him, mixed with a streak of anger she was sure was aimed at her. Her hesitation only lasted a fraction of a second.

Spike’s mouth opened and then closed just as decisively before he finally spoke. "It’ll just wind up in another fight. Leave it, pet."

"I can’t leave it. I can feel what it’s doing to you. And you should be able to tell that not being right with you makes me miserable."

"I just don’t get what I’m supposed to have done. I’m the one who should be going round feeling sorry for myself, not you."

"I am not feeling sorry for myself. Hurt? Yeah. Betrayed? A bit. Mad? More than a bit, but nothing that isn’t natural when you find out you’re engaged to somebody who thinks you’re some totally insensitive, incompetent, idiotic bastard and you’re too much love’s bitch to even call her on it, because you know that’ll just start a whole new fight."

"No, you just explained to me what our wedding night should be like as if you were talking to a retarded three-year-old. Aside from one word, that you seem to have an unreasonable fixation on, have I ever given you any reason at all to think that I wanted our wedding day to be anything other than the most perfect day of your god damned life up until that point?"

"Then, why the hell would you assume that I would turn our wedding night into some bloody perverted circus act?"

"Because you seem to have a taste for perverted circus acts." Buffy answered sounding considerably less sure of herself than she had previously. "You’re the one that mentioned a trapeze."

"Not for the wedding night, I didn’t, and for your information the whole swing thing doesn’t make that much difference for blokes. It’s the women who get the bloody benefit so I really couldn’t give a toss if you never find out."

"Now, I know that’s not true. You get off more on getting me off than you do on getting off yourself."

"Well, right now, this minute, it feels true." Even as he finished speaking Buffy could feel the last of his anger dissipate as if it had never been.

"Tell me about it…" Buffy asked him, pulling him down to sit the low wall that edged the porch.

"Well, how about you start with where we leave the reception and just tell me how you thought things might go."

"Well, were you planning on having a separate going away outfit or are you still wearing your wedding dress?"

"Well in that case I would have to carry you out to the car, so that you didn’t get your pretty dress dirty. An’ then I guess the next bit depends on what you want to be doing for the rest of the honeymoon. I guess if you want to fly somewhere we’d get a limo, but if we’re going to do the sort of touring thing and take the car, then I suppose I’d be driving."

"Don’t know yet. Assume you’re driving, but I’ll be lying against you with your arm around me, like when we went to the beach." She matched her movements to her words so that she had to tilt her head back to see his face.

"Okay, so I’ll ask you whether you want to take the coast road or the freeway."

Buffy seemed to consider for a while. "Coast road. We’re in no hurry. We’ve got our whole lives together."

"Well, I would be normally, but this whole day’s just been unreal and I’m still buzzing."

"Okay, so we pull up in front of this building, and I haven’t actually been there so I’m kind of fuzzy on the description, but it’s sort of old, twenties, Art Deco, but well kept up. Maybe a bit like Angel’s place could be if they hadn’t kept the same wallpaper and carpets for fifty years. Now, we have to ring a bell to get in. There’s a sign on the front door. It says they’re closed for a private party, but we ignore it.

So, someone opens the door. It’s the owner. She’s kind of attractive for an older woman and pretty glamorous, but I couldn’t care less because I’ve got all the woman I want right beside me. There’s a guy there as well, and as soon as he takes our bags, I pick you up in my arms and I carry you upstairs when the owner shows us to our room. I don’t put you down until she opens up the room for us and I’ve carried you across the threshold.

There’s a big old-fashioned bed and it’s got rose petals all over it. Not red ones, but white because that’s for purity, and for all I’m not, the way I feel about you is. There are a couple of bouquets of white roses in the room, too.

There’s an ice bucket beside the bed with two bottles of champagne waiting for us and a couple of crystal champagne flutes.

There’s some food laid out on the dresser, strawberries and some other fruit, stuff that won’t go off, if you just fancy a snack. You can have almost anything you fancy though, because the kitchens are fully staffed, all just waiting for you to call and tell them what you want, just in case maybe you were too nervous to eat properly through the day. And that’s all good. At least I’m hoping you think it’s good."

"But that’s not what makes it special, because all that you could get in a good hotel. What makes it really special is the fact that the room’s enchanted. Whether it’s a matter of perception or whether it really does, time seems to flow more slowly when you’re in this room. Every smile, every glance, every kiss, every sip of the very fine champagne, it all seems to last so much longer. It’s the only place like it on the Western Seaboard and for that one night, it’s ours to share… or it would have been." The vampire’s voice was wistful and Buffy could see the tension in his jaw as he gazed off into the distance, with his mind clearly on what might have been.

Tears had welled up in Buffy’s eyes as she listened to this vampire that so many would say could know nothing about love.

"Doesn’t matter. Like I said, most of it you can get at any decent hotel. If you’re lucky you can even get a sea-view as well."

"I don’t want a sea-view. I want the perfect night that my perfect husband-to-be planned for us." She reached under the heavy sweater that she wore to protect against the early morning chill and pulled a familiar envelope from where it was tucked in the waistband of her jeans. "I want this. Exactly how you planned it."

"No, I admit I got a hint as to just how extravagant it was when Anya borrowed a calculator and went into the bathroom and came out shaking, and started trying to give it back to me. I don’t know what the figure she came to was, but enough to send her into shock at the idea of that you might really burn it."

"Guess I should have known if anyone was going to know how much those compensation payments came to, it’d be Anya. What with her former calling, I guess she’d be familiar with those places."

"Loss of earnings for the girls, disruption to trade for the house, after all it’s not good for business to turn people away and I’m informed Saturday nights are generally busy."

"Oh! …Anyway, I didn’t look. I wanted to hear it from you. So, will you take me?"

Tara looked at the meagre pile of trash bags and boxes that were arrayed on the front porch of the house. Considering that Willow had lived there for almost a year, she really didn’t have much that was her own. Or was it that she was prepared to let whoever was around her provide for her? The Wiccan chided herself for the ungracious thought.

She caught sight of a corner of fabric peeking out of the top of one of the bags and picked it up, carrying it back into the house. She had felt when she moved out before that it would have been petty to strip the comforter that she’d brought from her original dorm room from the bed. She had been moving into single accommodation. Now that she would be in need of double bedding again, it wasn’t like she could afford to simply replace it.

Her mother’s will had provided a small trust fund that was helping to pay her way through college, but it only went so far and unlike Willow, Tara was going to be left with some hefty loans to pay off by the time she finished college. Her father had made it clear that he didn’t hold with wasting money on a college education when she would be getting married soon enough. Until then, there was work enough around the house that needed doing, or so he had asserted.

She’d packed her things and left anyway. He hadn’t bothered to stop her. Tara was sure it was because he thought she would be forced to go crawling back sooner or later. After the revelations of her twentieth birthday Tara had known that, come what may, she would never go back to the town where she'd been born and raised, or any other town like it.

She opened up the front door and called out to let the others know she was there, before her eye was caught by an array of items that were spread out on the stairs.

"We’re in here!" Dawn called back from the living room, where she and Anya were sorting through the contents of a couple of cardboard boxes that Spike and Buffy had brought from his apartment.

"Buffy’s." The girl pulled out a couple of candles from one of the boxes and added them to one of several rapidly growing piles.

Anya on the other hand sorted through a stack of books she had next to her. "Giles, Giles, Giles, pre-Giles, Giles, pre-Giles, present from Tara, Giles, Giles, Giles."

"What’s with all the stuff on the stairs?" Tara asked, putting her bags down on the floor.

"It’s for you. In case you leave before Buffy and Spike get back." Dawn answered, leaving Tara almost more puzzled by her explanation than the lack of one.

Spotting her confusion, Dawn continued. "Spike says he can’t have anyone being a bad influence on me and riding a motorcycle without wearing the proper gear. This from the guy who refuses to wear a helmet. He said, since me and Buffy were a couple of stick figures, you wouldn’t be able to borrow our leathers but that our ‘heads were likely big enough’ that you might be able to borrow one of our helmets.

Anyway, he left his duster for you to try, and the biker’s jacket and the other helmet are Brandon’s. I checked with him. He’s cool if you need to borrow anything of his. Spike had them in the trunk of the car from when he picked them up from The Bronze. Basically, help yourself to whatever fits best, and if neither of the jackets fit, Spike left two hundred and fifty bucks for Wes to take you to the bike shop before you head to LA. And he said to make sure you knew that he’d ‘have your guts for garters’, if you dared go any further than the bike shop without proper gear. And what the heck does that actually mean? Are garters something else in England or is he really threatening to use your insides for women's underwear? ‘Cause the idea of Spike in stockings and a garter belt is just weird, even if they are made of entrails, and he couldn’t make Buffy wear them, well not ones made from anyone’s guts.

Anyway… Congratulations! I think you’ve officially joined the ranks of ‘Spike’s women’. Prepare to be harassed at frequent intervals by an over-protective vamp."

Tara shook her head. "No, I’m sure it’s just like he said. He doesn’t want to have me setting a bad example for you. And I couldn’t take his money anyway."

Dawn tossed her hair. "Yeah, right. He went out… without… his… duster… Spike. Outside. No duster. Think about it. On the off-chance that it might fit you better than Brandon’s jacket.

You might as well just go and change your name by deed poll to either Summers or Giles, because like it or not, I’d say you’ve been adopted… sis."

Tara opened her mouth to argue, but realised there really wasn’t much she could say. Instead, she moved onto the next most obvious question. "So where are Spike and Buffy?"

Dawn gave an evil smirk. "At the mall. Shopping for Rogue. Come see the stuff I picked out for her on the store’s web site. Good job we never got round to shifting Spike’s PC to his apartment. I wish I could’ve gone with them, but Buffy said resting did not mean going to the mall. I mean she had me helping clear Willow’s stuff out all morning, but I suppose it means I get out of carrying, but I wish I could see Spike’s face."

"Phht!" Anya’s snort of derision was loud and clear. "That would mean she would have to do something for herself. Why would she do that when she can rant at Xander for half an hour about not telling her about the curse and then turn round and get him to borrow one of the vans from work and move her in his lunch hour? …Which he could have spent with me, on my day off." Then the former demon seemed to calm down slightly. "But he did tell her that he wasn’t coming to get her last night, and he said she couldn’t stay with us, not that any of you aren’t welcome to stay at our apartment any time you need to, just not to move in."

"Well, Buffy said it was the only way that they’d find out how much they should be feeding her, and it’d be easier to pick a basket and stuff.

Oh, and this is for you." Dawn picked up the front one of three almost identical envelopes that were propped up on the mantelpiece. "They came in this morning’s mail. Oh, Spike’s fake papers came earlier, too. It’s so not fair. He even looks cute on his passport photos."

"The pet store is that way," Buffy said tugging at Spike’s arm. "Even the dog knows where it’s going better than you."

"We’ve got somewhere else to go first. Trust me… That bitch of Finn’s made my girl feel like a freak. We’re going to get her something that’ll make her feel like she’s a girl again, and a damn special one at that."

"Well, she needs a necklace and some earrings to go with that dress you bought her, and a purse." Spike pulled up in front of a jeweller’s store that Buffy had never even dared to set foot in and began to peruse the window display. Within seconds he had seen what he wanted.

"Those." He pointed at a simple set of diamond studs in a cylindrical white gold setting that came with a matching pendant. "What do you think?"

Spike could feel the smallest hint of disappointment that Buffy was unable to contain emanating from his mate, even though she was happy for her sister.

"Look, love, another time I’ll get you somethin’ real nice. I promise. I know it’s kind of crass bringing you here to help me pick this sort of stuff for your sister and I wouldn’t normally do it without getting’ you somethin’ as well. It would just sort of defeat the purpose of the exercise if the Niblet ended up feelin’ like she got the consolation prize."

"It’s fine, Spike. Really. Besides, I think maybe you just found my ‘something borrowed’."

She stood on tiptoe to kiss his lips as his answer, letting him feel how much she loved his concern and thoughtfulness regarding her sister. "I think it’s a great idea, not that extravagant gifts are going to cut it on their own. It’s going to take time and patience, but I think it’s a nice touch."

"What about a watch? Does she have a proper watch? She can’t be wearin’ some stupid Swatch thing with that dress."

Buffy smiled. "Mom had one that’ll fit with them, a vintage one, with marcasite around the face and on the band. So, if you want to spoil her then just admit it. Don’t blame the dress."

"If that means that she’ll have everything that she needs, then yeah. Come on, or Willow and Xander will be turning up before we get back. And if Dawn keeps running that smart mouth of hers, then Willow will probably turn her into a toad or something."

The disdainful looks, that most of the assistants gave the blonde duo as they walked into the shop with their chained mongrel, lasted right up until the point where they caught a glimpse of the ring that Buffy was wearing. By then the blond vamp had already decided that the young girl who had actually made an effort to greet them as they entered the store would be the recipient of any commission that was to be made on the sale. He stated what he wanted, making it patently clear from his description of the pieces in question that he knew at least as much about their business as the sombre-suited salesmen.

"Perhaps the lady would like to try them on before you buy them," one of the suits asked ingratiatingly whilst the girl was busy removing the jewellery from the window, obviously hoping to share in the sale.

"The lady probably would, but seein’ as the lady in question doesn’t happen to be here, then it’d be a bit difficult now, wouldn’t it?" Spike practically snarled at the suddenly obliging man. "Now, if you’d be so kind as to excuse us, Miss Seymour was attending to our needs, and will be attending to all our future needs for as long as she continues to be employed here."

He smiled sweetly at Buffy. "You know, pet," he continued loudly enough for the staff to hear. "We’re really supposed to buy gifts for all the bridesmaids, too. I don’t suppose we have time today, but maybe we should check what days next week Miss Seymour will be here."

By the time the pair left five minutes later, Buffy was having a hard time restraining her giggles. "You are such an inverted snob," she accused the vampire.

"Well… Snotty buggers assumed that just because we haven’t got a proper lead for our mutt an’ we’re wearin’ jeans instead of Armani crap that we’ve got no money and don’t know our arse from our elbow. Sod them. Least the bint was willing to speak to us before she saw what was on your left hand."

"I am not going to be seen walking the mutt when it’s wearing that." The vampire picked up a glittery purple dog collar, holding it at arm’s length as if he could catch something from it. "All the other dogs’ll laugh at her, never mind if I meet another vamp."

"So buy both and swap when you take her out." Buffy passed him a heavy black leather collar with shiny studs and a nameplate after checking its size in comparison with the dog’s neck. "I like it actually."

"You would." Spike tossed the purple collar into the bottom of their shopping cart, nudging a sack of dried kibble so that it fell over on top of it. He swiftly added a proper choke chain and also a black extendable lead for once the puppy was better trained. The cart was overflowing and Buffy thought that it would take both their supernatural strengths to get everything back to the car in one trip. "An’ try an’ keep the mutt away from the trolley. At least let us get the stuff through the till before she chews it."

Spike managed to stop complaining for a full ten yards. "Where’s that book?" the vampire asked. Buffy pulled a volume entitled ‘So you own a puppy’ from the front end of the cart and flicked to the page listing all the paraphernalia necessary for a young dog, ticking off the various items that filled the cart. All that was left was to visit the engraving bar and get a couple of tags and the collar done. "An’ no, before you ask, we’re not getting’ the ones that are shaped like a bone."

Buffy simply smiled at the vamp’s brusque act as he felt his manly image was under threat. "Actually, I was going to ask what name we should put on the tags. Summers ‘cause it’s Dawn’s or Giles ‘cause we’ll be the ones paying all the bills? Or both?"

The vampire had to deliberately force down the grin that decorated his face at Buffy’s casual use of the pronoun ‘we’ in relation to his new name.

"If it’ll fit, you might as well stick Maclay on there as well, pet. Way I see it, there might be three names, but it’s one family. Was thinkin’ you might want to look at doin’ the same with the mailbox as well. Sort of let people know where things stand."

"Okay. ‘This is our family. Mess with them, deal with us.’" Buffy’s eyes sparkled with laughter. She couldn’t help it. A weaker woman might have felt overpowered by the protectiveness that Spike displayed. She knew that while the vampire’s nature made him assume the role of patriarch, if it were necessary, or even if she simply wanted it that way, he’d follow her lead instead. It didn’t threaten her or stifle her as she’d occasionally felt stifled by Angel. It comforted her and gave her a security she hadn’t felt since her mom first became seriously ill.

"Too right." Spike leaned forward as Buffy smiled up at him. Only his lips touched hers, but she felt a series of tremors pass through her whole body at the emotion that lingering, tender touch managed to convey. Likewise, Spike would never admit it, but when they parted, his grip on the shopping cart was playing no small part in hiding his own unsteadiness.

"You look good. You know, I don’t know why I never realised that you and Spike are the same height," Dawn admitted.

"It’s one of those personality things." Anya announced. "Spike is always trying to overcome his basic insecurities with the whole bravado thing, and he does have charisma to spare, so he comes across as being larger than life. Whereas Tara chooses to be pretty quiet. Then, there’s the whole male personal space being bigger than women’s personal spaces. It’s all just psychology. You do know that for the era he was brought up in, Spike would actually have been quite tall. Angel on the other hand would have been a massive freak. It’s only really after the Second World War with the improvements in nutrition over the last few decades that the average height has risen considerably. And of course Tara does wear slightly higher heels."

"Even up to about a decade ago, he would have been classed as average height. It’s just one of those things about being over a century old."

"What if said heels catch in the hem?" Tara tried to shift the conversation back onto its original subject. "He’d kill me if I rip it."

"You have his keys. Why not take his hog for a spin round the block and see?" Dawn suggested. "If you think there’s a problem, there’s always the money, and since I can hear Spike’s pile of junk pulling in, I think you’ll be leaving with one or the other."

Anya squinted against the late-morning sun to make out the shape of Xander’s car parked in the driveway. "Oh crap! That isn’t Spike and Buffy. That’s Xander and it looks like he’s driving Miss Daisy."

The two women who were sitting on the floor sifted through the last few items in the boxes somewhat faster than they had been doing and then began to heap Anya’s ‘pre-Giles’ pile into one of the boxes. In just a handful of seconds the last of Willow’s things were ready. Tara meanwhile made a quick check to ensure that the bag she had brought in didn’t have anything of Willow’s in it.

"No, Dawn. I’ll do it." Tara insisted, taking it from her. "If resting doesn’t include going to the mall, it certainly doesn’t include getting in an argument with a potentially unstable and very powerful witch."

Dawn let Tara take the box, but when the honey blonde exited the front door the teenager was straight behind her and Anya right behind that.

"Shouldn’t you still be at work, honeylamb?" she asked her husband. Dawn meanwhile was trying her best to see if that thing about looks killing was another one of those things that worked differently on the Hellmouth. Willow meanwhile was only interested in Tara.

"Well, I got to feeling kind of guilty about last night, and I took the rest of the day off. I figured even if we had to make a couple of trips by car rather than just one with the van since there wouldn’t be any furniture or anything, it wouldn’t be a problem, and then we could help Willow set up."

"Well, I figured you’ve got the day off too and you said that moving was a friend thing."

"Yes, Xander, but I don’t count people who treat me and my loved ones as if our lives are theirs to manipulate and who have a reckless disregard for the safety of those around them, not to mention the rest of the world, as my friend."

"Ahn…" Xander moved forward and took Anya by the elbow drawing her toward the side of the house.

"That’s the whole point. No one is helping her. Everyone is treating her like she did something unforgivable. Don’t you think that curse of Evie’s is punishment enough?"

"Xander, she did do something unforgivable. Do you know how unpredictable these time spells can be? Don’t you understand chaos theory? Once you take time back even a few minutes there are so many things, tiny little details that can change and affect thousands, millions of people’s lives that you just don’t do it without good reason."

"No one person would ever be good reason. And I’m talking about minutes, she wanted days… She’s like a toddler playing with a nuclear bomb.

She’s manipulated you into helping her even though you know you’ve had too much time off work lately. Your boss is going to start thinking you’re undependable and you won’t get that promotion you wanted and it’ll be her fault. She uses people and even if she’s using psychology to do it rather than magic it’ll still be picked up by the curse. The effect might not be so profound but it will still be there. The more you let her manipulate you the worse you’re making her because as long as you let her get away with it she’ll keep doing it."

"Anya, Willow is my friend. I am going to help her, even if you won’t. End of story."

"Fine. But are you helping her because she’s your friend, or because she made you feel guilty?"

"The sort of question a wife asks when she sees her husband being taken advantage of, when she’s worried about him being hurt, and when she knows that he’ll go ahead anyway whatever she thinks." Anya turned and went into the house through the nearby back door closing it firmly behind her.

"You know, at first when Buffy got together with Spike I was a bit worried, but she seemed happy, so I left it." Willow addressed her softly spoken words only to Tara, ignoring the teenager who stood beside the blonde on the porch.

"Then, there was all the trouble with Xander. Next thing I know, Spike’s turned you all against me. Don’t you see, because we’re her oldest friends he thinks we’re a threat and he’s trying to cut us out of the picture? As soon as he thinks you’re a threat, you’ll be gone, too."

"No, Willow. You’re trying to shift the blame. You aren’t a threat to his relationship with Buffy. Even before they made the claim you could see it in their auras. They belong together and if you or Xander choose not to see that, all you will do is drive a wedge between you and Buffy. If Spike has influenced Buffy in this at all, he’s done it with her interests and Dawn’s in mind."

Dawn could contain herself no longer. Tara wasn’t going to resolve anything with the former redhead today and the teenager felt she was due her say. "That is so much B.S. Are you really deluding yourself that there’s some sort of conspiracy against you, or are you just feeding Xander that line so he keeps thinking you’re the same poor, little, victimised Willow that he knew in first grade? Spike has never been anything but fair to you… Well, not for years anyway.

The only reason you don’t get it is that you’ve never cared more about anybody else in your entire life than you care about yourself. If Spike treats Tara like she’s family, it’s because she is. He knows she loves me and Buffy just as much as if we were blood-related. He knows that she’ll be there for us when we need her because that’s what family does. That’s enough for him to give part of his heart to her. He would have done the same for you, but not only were you too busy with your little power trip to notice that anyone else might be in trouble, you put the rest of us in danger. He knows that Willow’s first priority is always Willow.

You never had a real family and you don’t understand the concept. Families are meant to look after each other, even when it’s hard for them. From what I heard, you tried to say that you wanted to do that spell to save me from what happened. If you really cared about me then you wouldn’t have been trying to undo it, you would have been trying to help me get over it, and not with magic or quick fixes, but with long-term support and long-term care. You just didn’t want to be looking at me and still feeling guilty tomorrow, never mind years from now. Not that you’d remember to be guilty for long. When you broke my arm, as soon as my cast came off, you thought everything between us should be back to normal. The minute there wasn’t a physical reminder of how you hurt me I was supposed to be being petty not to welcome you with open arms.

You didn’t get that you betrayed our trust, and just when we were thinking maybe we could begin to trust you, you did it again. I’m not talking about all this ‘end of the world’ messing with time, either. You used black magic. You knew if Tara found out it would break her heart and you did it anyway. You hurt my family. You saved Brandon, and I guess I should thank you for that, and I would, if it wasn’t for the fact it was your arrogance that got him shot in the first place.

The blame for all this lies squarely on your own shoulders and if I hear you or even hear of you trying to say that it’s Spike’s fault ever again, I will make sure that Buffy knows that as far as I am concerned, you are never to set foot in this house."

“Bollocks!” The vampire balanced on one leg in the middle of the still mostly empty parking lot, bringing his other knee up so that he could rest the dog basket that was filled with dried kibble and canned dog food on his thigh. This freed one hand to try to pry his phone out of his now rather awkward to reach front jeans pocket. Just as he managed to locate the object of his search, the technological wonder stopped ringing.

“Serves you right for wearing pants that are so tight,” Buffy told him. “Who was it?”

Spike checked the missed calls option and shook his head. “New one on me. Leastways, it’s not in the directory. Prob’ly some telemarketing git. An’ you’ve never complained ‘bout the pants before.”

Buffy leaned back slightly to catch an appreciative glimpse of vampire butt. “Not complaining now, either,” she teased. Just then, Buffy’s phone began to ring. “Or not a telemarketer,” she added. Somehow her struggle to cope with the carriers filled with the remaining purchases and Rogue herself, on her new choke chain was far less amusing than Spike’s one-legged balancing act. Spike had refused to take the dog while he was using the orbs. He said that the original chain they had used was so short, Rogue couldn’t really pull too far or loosen the chain around her neck very much. With the longer chain he was aware that too sharp a jerk, especially with more than vampire strength, might actually injure the dog, which rather neatly left Buffy to keep her under control. Again, by the time Buffy managed to retrieve her cell, the caller had rung off.

“It’s Clem. He’s using one of the cells we got in LA. That’s why you didn’t recognise the number. We still need to program all the new ones into your phone.”

“Let’s get this stuff back to the car before we ring him back. He’s probably just checkin’ numbers for tomorrow night. Lily’ll be goin’ into overdrive in preparation.”

The pair had just settled into the front seats of the DeSoto and Spike actually had his phone in his hand when it rang again.

“Clem, mate. Good job we weren’t doin’ anything that needed peace and quiet. What’s up?”

After another couple of seconds, Spike took the phone from his ear and turned to Buffy. “Anya reckoned Red an’ Harris wouldn’t be comin’ till after half twelve, right?”

Spike shifted the cell back into position. “Yeah, Clem? We’re comin’ over there now. Talk to Dave ourselves. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Dave?” Buffy asked as Spike started up the car and swung it from the lot with a screech of tyres, sending Rogue sliding along the back seat.

“Manager at that bar I took you to. The one where you met Clem. Turns out Wrinkly decided to keep out the way of the women by spending the next couple of days over there, which is lucky for us, because now we know that there’s some new wanker in town who seems to think we’re his business.”

“Human or at least he looks and smells that way. Not of the normal ethnic persuasion for Sunnyhell. Other than that, I guess we’ll find out when we get there and talk to Dave.”

Dave shrugged as he poured a brace of tequila to go with Clem’s beer. Putting the bottle down he raised his right hand to indicate a height a few inches taller than Spike and then held both hands apart at shoulder height to give an idea of build.

“Black,” Spike kicked Buffy as gently as he could on the shin, as soon as he saw her mouth begin to open. Dave continued, oblivious to the hour-long lecture on political correctness he had just escaped. “Bald, late twentiesss, early thirtiesss, earring, attitude.” The bartender’s forked tongue gave him a slight lisp, but it wasn’t like anyone was going to call him on it. The demon seemed to consider. “You want a drink for the dog?”

“Not if you’re talking about a swap,” the vampire replied, “but I don’t suppose a half pint of beer’ll do it any harm.”

“What? The guy’s got to make a livin’. The dog’s takin’ up space in his pub. It’s not unreasonable to expect it to drink.” Spike tossed a generous bundle of notes on the bar. “Get yourself one as well. So when was this?”

The barman looked uncomfortable and developed an undue concentration on Rogue’s beer which he was in the process of pouring as he spoke. “Sssaid he was lookin’ for the Ssslayer and her pet vampire.”

A muscle ticked in Spike’s jaw. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, or wouldn’t hear again.

This time the barman gave a hurried glance at Buffy before jerking his head to indicate he wanted to speak to the vampire on his own.

When Spike finally made it back to where Buffy and Clem were waiting, he paused just long enough to knock back one of the two tequila shots and pass the other to Buffy. “Drink up, pet. We’ve got another bar to go to.”

“Okay, you want to know, but I’m damned if I’m going to tell you. Joyce would’ve been lookin’ out her axe if she heard me use language like that in front of you. Let’s just say that when I catch up with the guy he’s going to have a messy meeting with my fists.”

“Except for the fact that we’re going to go look for that wanker that got chucked out the poker game that night you were here.”

“Because after Dave fobbed the guy off as best he could, certain others were seen having a lengthy discussion with him.”

“Well, if he isn’t here, that leaves Willy’s and a couple of other less salubrious establishments where I wouldn’t take a lady to check out.”

“Isn’t it kind of early to assume that he’s started drinking for the day?”

“If he was just likely to be drinking, then, yeah. What you’re failing to take into account is that a dealer goes where his market is.”

“Anything and everything he can get his hands on and in this case I suspect it was information.”

“Yeah, I remember and then you brought one of them to my birthday party and he turned out to be one of the good guys.”

“So… I guess in Clem’s case I exaggerated, but it doesn’t make it any less true ‘bout the rest of them.”

The occupants of Willy’s fell silent as the blonde pair made their entrance, this time without the pooch in tow. If there was going to be a fight, then a dog tangling round their legs was going to be nothing but a nuisance. Spike might not be happy about the risk to the DeSoto’s upholstery, but that was something he was going to have to live with, or not. It was the fact that the demon tried to get out in those first few seconds that gave him away. Everyone else had frozen in place when the duo entered, knowing that their arrival meant trouble for someone.

Spike was across the room in a fraction of a second. The demon’s feet left the floor as Spike picked him up by the scruff of the neck and slammed him face first into the back door of the bar.

“Was that what you were looking for?” he asked as he rammed the craggy faced demon again and again into the metal reinforced wood.

“Shouldn’t what?” Buffy asked joining him. “Shouldn’t peel your face a bit at a time as if it were an incredibly ugly artichoke until you tell him what he wants to know? I think he should. Seems to me you should just about be softened up ready for the peeling.”

“Dave’s. Tuesday. You were seen talking to a big black guy who’d been asking about us. I want to know what you told him.” Spike informed the demon, as yellowish green ichor oozed from between the plates which made up the dealer’s face.

“You know, when Pinocchio lied, his nose got bigger. I guess this works in reverse… Can I?” Buffy asked.

Spike took a firm grip on either side of the demon’s head. “Go ahead, pet.”

As the Slayer’s hand reached out toward the most central of the chitinous protrusions that made up the demon’s face he suddenly found a streak of previously unknown loquaciousness.

“I just told him what any demon in town could have told him. Mostly it was just a case of confirmation.”

“About the chip. How you’ve been batting for the wrong side, so that between the people you pissed off when you had a pair, and the demons who don’t appreciate traitorous little bastards, there’s no one left save her who’d have anything to do with you. That for the last few months you’ve had her scent all over you. That maybe some time last century you might have been the slayer of slayers, but now you’re just her fuck-toy. And you’re easy meat for any human that wants you. And believe me, this guy wants you.”

Buffy punched him so hard that the armoured plate on his nose actually cracked in two and fell off, but she grazed her knuckles at the same time. It was probably the fact that Spike was instantly more concerned about her than their ugly friend that saved the demon from a broken neck.

As Spike released the demon to check on her hand, Buffy gently placed a hand on his chest to stop him coming closer. “In a minute, Spike. I’ve got something I want to make very clear to this guy, and to anybody else who might have anything to say on the subject.” Buffy’s voice rose so that it could be heard by all the bar’s occupants. She held up her left hand, palm inward, so that the diamonds on her finger caught what light there was in the dingy bar.

“This tells those of you who hold with human convention that there’s a lot more between me and him than just a whole bunch of incredible sex… But seeing as most of you in here don’t hold with human convention, maybe this is something you understand a bit better.” She pulled aside her hair so that the recently renewed claim scar was in plain view. “Now, all you people had better get the picture real quick. I am his, he is mine, and anyone who messes with either one of us had better be ready for all the hurt that a master vamp and a slayer can do between them. Are we clear?”

She turned back to the demon whose offensive remarks had prompted the outburst, screwing up her face at the sight of the open sore where his nose used to be.

“That has got to hurt! I figure unless you want to hurt some more you should come up with a name and a way to get in touch with him.”

“Don’t know how to get in touch with him. Figure he’s probably checked out as much as he’s goin’ to.”

“Said his name was Wood, Robin Wood, like Robin Wood, Robin Wood riding through the glen, but not.”

“Believe me, this guy is not goin’ to look like Richard Greene when we’re done with him,” Spike retorted.

“Maybe, but, hell, as long as I’ve got scum like you to cope with, I can let her have the humans.” Spike rammed the demon’s head into the door one last time, only this time he didn’t make quite so much effort to hold back. There was a loud series of cracking noises, almost like the noise of someone breaking into a lobster shell and when Spike released the demon he slumped to the floor.

“What the hell? I guess nobody bothered to explain to micro-brain that it isn’t half past twelve until the big hand’s on the six and the little hand’s between twelve and one!”

Spike pulled up in front of the house, taking care not to block Xander’s car in, since he expected the carpenter to be leaving very soon. Buffy wondered why the vampire was suddenly keen to take the dog after his previous reluctance until he marched up to where Dawn and Tara were standing and turned the lead over to the teenager.

“Why don’t the two of you take the mutt inside and see if you can get her calmed down?” he asked, thereby creating the perfect excuse to get the two people he most wanted out of Willow’s way safely out of the picture, before he turned his attention to the witch.

“Just where exactly in my little speech did I lose you yesterday, Red? I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want you round here when you were goin’ to be upsetting Bit and Glinda. So is it that you don’t understand English or you can’t work out how to use a phone?

And you,” his gaze bored straight through Xander. “Even if she didn’t tell you that she’s not supposed to come round here without calling to make sure Glinda and Bit aren’t around, it didn’t occur to you that we would want to be here when she turned up?”

Buffy took her stance next to the vampire, linking her hand with his. “Since I agreed to marry him. That puts him on an equal footing with me, and so far, he hasn’t said anything I’ve got a problem with. Your things are all on the porch. If you find there’s anything missing when you get where you’re going you can give us a list, but as far as all the stuff from the shop is concerned, if Giles paid for it, it’s his and it’ll be returned to him. For now, I’d like the keys to our home back.”

“Buffy?” Xander tried to intercede. “Isn’t that kinda harsh? Don’t you think she should at least get to pack her own stuff?”

“What the hell do you think we’ve been doin’ here all mornin’, you stupid wanker?” Spike exploded. “That is it.” He waved an arm toward the bags and boxes on the porch. “Now, just take it, and get the damn crone the hell away from Bit and Glinda.” Spike picked up a nearby box and shoved it into Xander’s arms.

“Or I’ll build a bloody bonfire on the front lawn and burn the whole bloody lot.”

“Xander…” the witch tried to get her friend’s attention, but he was only interested in Spike.

“Xander!” Willow’s voice rose in volume. “Spike isn’t chipped any more.”

“I can stop you… Huh?” The brunette spun to face his childhood friend, dropping the box he carried with a crash as he turned to stare at her. “What the frick did you just say?”

“I said Spike isn’t chipped any more. He hurt Sam and his chip didn’t go off. You know he bit Buffy.”

“But-but that was just. I mean, endorphins, ‘cause it. If it had… he would.”

“What? If the chip was gone I would have killed you all in your sleep, already? Yeah, right. Some of you ain’t worth the effort. And some of the rest I even like.”

“But, you knew.” The carpenter stared at Willow. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“This is Friday, Will. Anya’s been in that house with him all morning. Buffy and Dawn and Tara are all living in that house with him. How could you keep this from me?”

Buffy slapped the near hysterical man, finally getting him to shut up. “We didn’t tell anyone. I made a decision that it was something I preferred to be kept secret, and given your reaction it would seem that I was right about the fact that if we told you all you would broadcast it loud and clear for Riley, the Initiative and whoever else might be eavesdropping to hear. Congratulations. You’ve just put my family’s lives in more danger than they already were.”

“I’ve put your family in danger. What about the fact that Dawn’s sharing a house with an unfettered murderer? What about the fact that that’s my wife in there?”

“Get this straight, Xander. One thing I would never compromise on is the safety of my friends and family. I know that Spike is not a danger to the people around him, but if you keep pushing this, I wouldn’t blame him if he felt compelled to kick your ass and I might even be inclined to help.

Take Willow and her things and go, and before you come back, just get your head around this concept. I would never have agreed to marry Spike if I hadn’t believed that with or without the chip, I could trust him.”

Buffy turned to Willow and held out her hand. “Keys?” She waited until the other woman pulled her keys, still on Joyce’s key-ring, from her pocket and passed them over. Then, she tugged at the arm of her vampire. “Come on, fang boy. It’s nearly lunchtime and there’s a puppy in there that hasn’t had its breakfast, yet. We better unpack the car.”

Chapter 2.09

Xander took a couple of seconds to use his cell phone before he found himself following the heavily laden blondes through the back door of the house. Spike didn’t say anything when he noticed the man following them, but he made sure that the door was shut and locked behind him so that Willow didn’t follow him in.

Anya looked up from her spot on the sofa as her husband entered. “I’ve said my piece, Xander. I’m not getting in the car with that woman, so you might as well go. I’ll make my own way home later.”

“Anya, you have to come with me. You’re not safe here. None of you.” He looked round at Dawn and Tara. Obviously Buffy was a lost cause and way too strong for him to manhandle, but he had to get the others out of there before something awful happened.

“We have another apocalypse? Are Riley and his friends going to come back?” Anya asked.

“No, but that thing,” he said nodding at Spike, “is back to his old self.”

“Really?” Anya turned to ask Spike. “You’re back to the killing?” She sounded no more than mildly curious. “I mean you wouldn’t want to kill me, would you? And if you hadn’t wanted to keep Xander safe for me, you wouldn’t have given him those orbs, even if Giles said that you had to keep them now, you wouldn’t have given them to him in the first place, if you wanted him dead, would you?”

“No, pet. I prefer the world when you’re in it and happy. Might wish you’d found somebody better than this wanker to make you happy, but unless you were to ask me, or he lays hand on any of my women again, I wouldn’t hurt either of you.”

“So why do you want to take me away?” she asked her husband.

At this point the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Tara said as she headed for the door, opening it to admit Wesley.

Anya used this interlude to quietly question Spike. “You’d really hurt Xander for me if I asked you to?”

“Hell, pet, the state the bugger had you in that last time, I’d’ve beaten him bloody, chip or no chip, if you’d asked me to.”

“Well, thank you. If Xander ever shows the bad judgement to leave me again, I may take you up on the offer.”

Xander simply stared back and forth between the pair as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Wesley, you’re a watcher. Tell them they have to get out of the house. They can’t stay here, not with him. He’ll kill them all.”

“Who?” the watcher asked calmly, trying to make sense of the younger man’s apparent ravings.

“Who do you think? How many ravening vampires do we have around here?”

Wes looked over to where Spike stood on the borderline between the kitchen and living room, his arms around Buffy’s shoulders as he pressed a kiss to her hair, trying to calm the small woman as she seemed almost ready to explode.

“None,” the watcher answered, entirely unruffled by the question.

“But he’s not chipped any more!” the carpenter insisted.

“Well, I had surmised as much when Lindsey put him in charge of the attack on the hotel. It hardly made any sense if he was going to collapse in pain the first time he hit someone and Lindsey has never been stupid. Then, when Buffy sent him to deal with Sam, that confirmed it.”

Tara nodded, as if to indicate that she had come to the same conclusion. Spike caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged and gave him an encouraging smile in return.

“Am I the only one here that hasn’t checked his brains at the door?” Xander demanded, looking round the room. “Dawnie, you must see that you can’t stay here?”

“Why? Now Spike can protect us all from humans, same as he could from demons. That makes us even safer than we were before.” The teenager moved to link her arm through the vampire’s. “Did you get the collar I wanted for the poor little puppy that Xander’s best friend Willow was going to kill, Spike?”

The vampire nodded but his eyes did not leave Xander’s face. “Course we did, sweet thing.”

Xander noted that said puppy was also standing just to one side of the group, lip curled back at the outsider’s hostility to her new people. “I don’t believe you guys.”

“And I don’t believe you,” Buffy finally intervened. “You’ve had your little rant. No one, I’m glad to say, is interested. Perhaps, now you would stop insulting my fiancé and my hospitality. You came here for Willow’s things. They’re on the porch. Take them and go.”

“Buff, are you throwing me out of here?”

“I told you to think about things before you came back here. Instead you charge in here and make doubly sure that if the eavesdroppers couldn’t hear you from the garden then they would hear you in here. You act like a total…” Buffy paused.

“Arsehole? Fuckwit? Wanker?” Spike gave her a few suggestions.

“All of the above, and then you act surprised that I don’t want you in my home? Just when did you get the impression that the title friend gave you the right to treat me, my home and my loved ones with disrespect? When you can be civil, when you’re ready to apologise, then you can come back.”

“Look, Buffy, I’m sorry if I upset you-.”

Buffy cut him off. “When you’re ready to apologise to Spike, Xander. To me is good, too, but Spike’s the important part.”

“No way. That guy is death on legs and when he kills you all it won’t make me happy, but I will say I told you so.”

“Fine, but you won’t say it here. Get out.”

“Anya?” Xander turned to his wife.

“I’ll see you back at home, Xander. You choose your friends. I choose mine. Spike was the only one who really stood by me when you walked out on me and assuming I’m still welcome here, I’d just as soon stay around.”

“You’re always welcome,” Buffy told the woman in a gentle voice. “And thank you."

Xander looked round the room filled with determined faces and decided that discretion was the better part of valour. His reinforcements would be here soon. For now, he would gather Willow's things and wait.

"Fine, I'll see myself out."

When he left he couldn't resist slamming the door violently. He was surprised to find the porch clear, the bags and boxes all packed and Willow waiting in the front passenger seat of his car.

"What the? I mean I know there wasn't much, but?"

Willow wiggled her fingers as if that were answer enough.

"Will, should you be doing that? Curse an' all?"

"It's not black magic. It's just convenient."

"Isn't that meant to be the point? That you're using magic to suit you rather than when you should?"

"So now you're a magic expert? Are you going to tell me what I'm doing wrong, now? How I'm supposed to be a danger to everyone?"

"Willow, will you just be quiet? We have more to worry about than your bruised ego. All the people in that house, in this town, even, could be in danger. You know what Spike was like before he got the chip. How on earth could you leave me out of the loop on this for two days?"

"Anywhere I've seen you have been all the places we think they had bugged."

"And you didn't think that it was more important? You didn't think that it might be a good idea if maybe Riley and his people did know? That maybe they should come in there and drag that bleach-blond freak out into the sun without his precious orbs?"

Willow opened her mouth to tell her friend what he wanted to hear. He was the only one who had stood by her. If she admitted now that the real reason she hadn't told anyone about Spike's confidence was that she really didn't believe the vampire was a danger to anyone then Xander would turn against her like all the others,

"Xander..." She hesitated briefly. “He won't hurt anyone. I know you don't want to believe it, but..."

"I thought you said it was Spike that caused all the ruckus. I thought you-."

"I was mad at how things turned out, okay. I was mad that he tried to warn me away from people I care about, but that doesn't mean I think he would kill again. He... after he saw Dawnie, if he didn't kill Sam, then he won't kill anyone."

"Will, are you really telling me that you trust that killer?"

"Enough to sleep in the same house as him knowing that the chip was gone," Wilow admitted.

Xander could only sit and stare before he rested his head on the steering wheel to await Giles' arrival.

* * * * *

Spike looked on while Dawn put the purple collar on the puppy, who was too interested in her kibble to realise what a heinous fashion crime was being perpetrated against her. "I was dealing with it," Dawn pouted.

"And if your big sis had heard half of what I heard you say as we were pulling up I don't know whether she'd hug you or ground you," Spike told the girl. "I'm going to go with the first one. C'mere, you."

The teenager moved into his open arms. "So why'd you send me inside? I can cut it." She looked up into his face as she protested. "I'm not twelve any more."

"Pet, it's nothing to do with what age you are. You want the truth, if Red put her mind to it there isn't a one of us she couldn't wipe the floor with. Not as I really think she would, not deliberately, but when people are hurtin' sometimes they do things they wouldn't otherwise. So indulge me, huh?"

"So I'm supposed to hide because you're a wuss?"

"When it comes to my girls gettin' hurt? Yeah."

"And I'm your girl?"

"You know it, love. So, how did you sleep last night?"

"You mean did the Olympic sex games keep me awake?"

"'Mongst other things."

"I don't think I'd have slept much, anyway."

Spike took the youngster’s chin gently in his hands and turned her head until she could see his face. “You do know that you’re way more important to us than… well. You know that whatever we might be doin’ we’d come runnin’ if you wanted us.”

“It’s okay. I figured you two could use some alone time and I thought Tara might be glad of someone to talk to for a bit, which she was, so…”

“Well thanks for the consideration, Niblet, but just remember you’re our priority. Okay? If the only way you can get a decent might’s sleep is sharing with us…”

Dawn made a face at the vampire, her eyes gleaming wickedly. “As if I’d have been able to sleep between those sheets!”

“We could’ve come an’ messed up your bed.”

“Gross. You and Buffy are not doing anything in my bed. If anyone is going to make my bed all wet and sticky, it’ll be me.”

“Better bloody not. I smell anythin’ in that room that I shouldn’t be smellin’ an’ lover boy’ll be goin’ home with a knot tied in it. An’ as for makin’ the bed wet an’ sticky, that damn dog of yours drools in her sleep.”

“Thought she was supposed to be sleeping in the bathroom.”

“She was until your sister decided to open the connecting door. Then, the mutt decided it was sleeping with us. I suppose I should just be thankful at least she didn’t crap in the bed.”

Spike grabbed one of the kitchen stools and pushed another toward Dawn. “You talked to your big sis about taking young Mikey with you tomorrow, yet? Come to that, d’you even know how much his dad’s told him? Does he even know that demons exist?”

“No, no, and I don’t think so.”

“But you think he’ll cope?”

“I’m hoping. I thought, maybe, if he comes over tonight, if you need to help me prove the point, you could flash a little fang. That way he’s got a day to think about it and take in everything before he meets the others.”

“Well, I guess it makes sense, unless you wanted to wait till after the dance in case he gets cold feet.”

Dawn gave a little smile and shook her head. “He won’t.”

“You seem mighty sure about that. You best go find your sister, then, run your plan by her and tell her you’re goin’ to need some jewellery to show off that dress before next Friday. See if she can come up with anythin’. I think she mentioned some watch of Joyce's.”

“What about you?” Dawn asked.

“I’ll be through in a bit, when I’ve cleared this lot up.” Spike indicated the various bandages, Band-Aids and ointments scattered around. As soon as Xander had been expelled from the house Spike had applied his efforts to tending to Buffy’s grazed hand and then the renewal of the dressing on Dawn’s thigh and a check on the cuts on her feet. Then, he’d found time to feed the dog.

* * * * *

“Let’s just go,” Tara decided. “I don’t know what they’re up to or what they’re waiting for, but I don’t see why we should change our plans.”

“Are you sure?” Buffy asked the girl.

“Sure. Besides, Wes’ll protect me, won’t you?”

“Protect you from what?” Dawn asked joining the huddle at the front door. She stood on tiptoe to peer through the distorting glass panes of the front door. “What are they still doing here? You don’t think they’re going to hang around until the caseworker gets here and cause trouble? That’s our driveway, right? If they don’t go we can get the police to come and take them away for trespassing or something? Buffy? I want to stay with you and Spike and Tara. Make them go away.”

“Dawnie, I don’t know. It seems like if we go out there and tell them we want them gone before the caseworker gets here, then, if it turns out that’s not what they’re waiting for, we’ve just given them the perfect ammunition.”

“I’ll go,” Anya offered. “I shall tell Xander that Dawn finds his continued presence upsetting and request that he leave immediately.”

Just then a very tired, hot and rumple-suited Giles jogged into view, one hand clutching at his side as if he had a stitch. He didn’t even see the two people sitting in the car in the driveway, he ran straight to the front door, which Buffy pulled open when he was about two feet away, so that when the man looked up he found five people looking back at him from the doorway.

Spike came sauntering through from the kitchen to join the group. “Afternoon, Rupes. Nice of you to drop by, saves me from ringing you later. Are you available to go for a fitting for your suit tomorrow morning? …Shit, love. We didn’t ring Marie last night. She’s goin’ to think the vicar said no.”

“You’re all alive?” Giles asked.

“Ye-e-es,” Buffy answered, unsure why he might think that they wouldn’t be.

“And well?”

“Aside from Dawnie’s bits and pieces and some grazed knuckles I picked up from a demon’s face this morning. Any reason why we shouldn’t be?”

Xander by this point had left his car and joined Giles on the doorstep.

“You said something terrible had happened and that I needed to get here right away.”

“It has. Spike’s not chipped anymore.”

Giles pulled his glasses off and turned on the young man. “You are aware of the fact that I don’t have a car at the moment.”

“Well, I knew, but until I saw you running up the street I kinda forgot,” Xander admitted sheepishly.

“And you just thought it would be an amusing pastime to see if you could make me have a coronary. I thought they were in real danger, not just something your fevered brain came up with.”

“But it is.”

“Xander, surely even you must have realised that Spike has changed over the last few years? If Buffy chooses to put her faith in him, knowing him more intimately than any of us could ever hope to, or even want to, then, we must simply trust her judgement.

For heavens sake, just grow up and let the past go. We don’t have time for you creating scares where there are none. This is the Hellmouth. There’s quite enough genuine mayhem.”

“Actually, real scares too. Creepy guy asking round in demon bars about me and Spike. Of course, I don’t know what he actually said as Spike thinks it’s inappropriate for a lady’s ears, but I get the impression that we’re at the top of this guy’s hate parade. And the only advantage we did have was the fact that he thought Spike was chipped. So I guess it depends who sent him whether he heard Xander’s little hissy fit or not.”

“It was not-.” Xander tried to deny the infantile nature of his outburst, but caved at the glowers from Buffy, Dawn and Anya and a knowing smirk from Spike.

“I don’t care any more, Xander. It’s over half an hour since I asked you to leave and you’re still parked in our driveway. Why is that?”

“Well, Giles…”

“Giles is a guest. Giles is welcome to stay. You know the conditions you have to meet before the same can be said for you. Dawn is supposed to be resting. You and Willow being around is making her tense. She can’t rest when she’s tense. Go away.” Taking Giles by the arm and drawing him into the house, she let Dawn get the door. The teenager slammed it just as loudly as Xander had when he left, this time it closed about six inches from his face.

“Wes, before you go, since Giles is here, we may as well go through this once rather than twice, just in case either of you recognise the name or the description or anything,” Buffy suggested.

“If it’s a single man, it’s unlikely he’s actually a Council operative, but I wouldn’t put it past them to employ a freelance or point a loose cannon in your general direction.”

“He’s Council alright,” Spike interrupted. “One way or another. He’s got to be. Who else but that bunch of wankers, no offence, would talk about slayers betraying their mission?”

“Is that what you wouldn’t tell me?”

“That, pet, is about as much as I could repeat of what he said.”

“It does sound fairly watchery. I mean uptight Travers watchery, not rebel watchers watchery…” Buffy’s voice faded away.

“You said you had a name and a description?” Giles queried.

“Black bloke, maybe Wes’s build or just a bit broader in the shoulder. We’ve got a name. If it’s real his parents must have been either a right pair of sadists or a couple of morons,” Spike gave his opinion.

“Just tell us, Spike,” the elder watcher responded wearily.

“Robin Wood,” Buffy answered. “Mean anything to anybody?”

“Oh dear lord!”

“Care to enlighten us, Wes?” Buffy asked as everyone turned to stare at the man.

“I’m only guessing, but, Spike, that second slayer you killed. Her name…”

“Was Nikki Wood,” all three men chorused together, as realisation dawned.

“Spike!” Buffy’s irritation was evident in her tone. “Is there anyone remotely connected to the Council whose family members you haven’t killed?”

“Spike! Is there anyone remotely connected to the Council whose family members you haven’t killed?” Even if Buffy’s irritation hadn’t been evident in her voice, Spike would have felt it through their bond, though he took it as a good sign that she left her fingers twined with his as they sat beside each other on the sofa.

“Hey! You make it sound as if I did it with the sole intention of pissin’ you off. You weren’t even born.

She was the Slayer. I was a vampire. When one meets the other, one of them is goin’ to wind up dead. Personally, I’m rather pleased it was her an’ not me. I can understand if you an’ the watcher boys don’t exactly feel the same way but I’m not goin’ to start apologisin’ for not bein’ dust. It was a one on one fight. She was good but she lost. End of story.”

“That doesn’t help us now,” Buffy almost whined. “You know you can’t kill him?”

“Actually, I know no such thing. If it comes down to me or him or you or him, pet, don’t expect me to act all noble, ‘cause I won’t. If you want some self-sacrificing wanker, you best head down to LA.” Spike knew he had said the wrong thing as Buffy’s frustration at the situation gave way to anger toward him when he alluded to her former lover. Thankfully, she was able to pick up on his genuine contrition in the same way.

Giles sighed and interrupted before the discussion could become any more heated. “No one expects you to stand there arms akimbo and let him stake you, Spike. Buffy just means that perhaps you should show some restraint in dealing with him.”

“Look, watcher. If he comes after me, he’ll regret it, but I’ll give him one chance to walk away, on account of his mum. If he so much as touches Buffy, then all bets are off. Comprende?”

“No, it’s not, ‘cause like I said, you’re goin’ to be wearin’ those orbs as soon as we get rid of Mrs Social Wanker, but I know too damn well from both sides of the equation that if you beat somebody an’ let them live, that next time they just do whatever it takes to shift the odds a bit more in their favour. So, if he touches you, as far as I’m concerned, there is no second chance.”

“How about we change that to if he tries to kill me?” Buffy negotiated, knowing she had almost no hope of getting him to change his mind if he felt that her safety was at risk.

“Slim difference, pet. An’ I’ll be the one judgin’ what he’s tryin’, not you, but I’ll give you that much.

“Can you make it for a suit fitting tomorrow morning?” He turned to his two ushers. “I’ve got measurements for you two, but if either of you want to come and have a look at the fabrics and stuff, feel free.”

“Don’t I get an invite?” Buffy pouted. “Besides, maybe I’ll get him to do Rosa’s dress as well. I’ve got a perfect idea what I want. I just need someone who can make it, and if Clem’s going with you, he can bring her along. Maybe, I’ll get him to do our dresses as well, if you think he’s so good.”

“Never said you couldn’t come. Only, don’t think you’re coming with me when I go to get my hair done afterwards.”

“’Cause I’m not about to have you stakin’ the only hairdresser in Sunnyhell that won’t have a fit ‘cause I don’t have a reflection.”

“Yeah, that’d be right. Hairdressing by Braille… though it does explain The Poof’s elegant coiffure.”

“Well…” Anya began. “I would like to go, but that wouldn’t leave anyone to mind the shop.”

“I did. But I’m sure I can manage to fill in for an hour or two. And with a decent night’s sleep, I’m sure I can even smile pleasantly at the customers.”

“Alright, then.” Spike seemed to assume that this settled the matter. “Everyone as is coming and Wes, meet at the shop at half ten tomorrow morning and don’t wear shoes that you ain’t goin’ to want to go through drains in.”

“Aren’t you taking Mr Wood’s presence in Sunnydale rather lightly?” Giles asked.

“I don’t take anyone as might be a threat to my girls lightly,” Spike answered. “An’ once that woman from Social Services has been an’ gone, I’ll be seein’ if I can come up with any more info on our newest inconvenience, but we’ve still got a wedding to organise, an’ less than two months to do it. And a certain someone would be right pissed off with me if I didn’t sort out my end of the arrangements, which includes seeing to our suits and Glinda an’ Anya’s outfits.”

Buffy smiled and snuggled half an inch closer on the sofa, even though their thighs had already been touching, knowing that Spike would do whatever it took to see she had her perfect day.

“Yes, well. Let me know if your ‘research’ throws up any new information. In the meantime, I’d best get back to The Magic Box.”

Spike took pity on the watcher after his earlier dishevelled appearance. “I’ll drop you off.”

“We really should be heading off, as well,” Wesley added, looking across at Tara.

Anya, who by now had heard about Wes’s new address, volunteered. “Maybe if you left your keys, I could tidy up a bit for you. I really shouldn’t be here when Dawn’s case worker arrives, anyway.”

“If you’re sure?” Wes seemed surprised by the offer but readily handed over the keys.

“You help with the shop, we help out with your house,” the former demon replied.

“Yes, you do. You’re itching for it.” The vampire did a fair approximation of the watcher’s rich tones. “If you don’t justify the faith that she has put in you I will find you and make sure you die a slow lingering death. If you ever make her regret that she agreed to marry you I will introduce the colonials to Bonfire Night with you as Guy Fawkes. If you so much as leave the top off the toothpaste I will douse you in holy water. Just get it over an’ done with, an’ then we can get to the bit about you leavin’ her in the lurch.”

“That wasn’t precisely the chat I had in mind.” Giles pulled his glasses off to polish them.

“Everybody’s serious about it, but I reckon Glinda’s the one that actually has me worried.”

“Well, figure I’m more worried about bits droppin’ off than I am about a good old fashioned stakin’. Anyway, you, I figure, are pushin’ it with the fatherly concern considerin’ how you upped an’ left her. You know when she got word back that they weren’t goin’ to take her back at that crappy college, she had no one she could talk to about it. No one. Just bottled it all up inside for months, ‘cause even though Giles would understand he told her to stand on her own two feet. Have you any idea how bloody alone she was when you buggered off?

Harris tryin’ to work out just how he could screw up worse than his father. Demon bint too busy with her wedding plans to notice if the bloody Chippendales were strippin’ off in front of her. Red either mopin’ or whacked out from whatever she was up to at Rack’s. Glinda out of the picture because she couldn’t be ‘round Red. An’ the last person she could let know how bad things were was the Niblet.”

“I didn’t. We started something and we had totally different expectations as to what it was and where we wanted it to go. So I guess I ended up being another problem… for a while. But that’s not the point.

What I’m getting at is, more than the bloody Atlantic, you put up emotional barriers between the pair of you an’ unless you do something about it, that girl will never tell you again when she’s really hurtin’. An’ just in case somethin’ does happen to me, I’d kinda like to know that she’s not goin’ to be alone again.”

“But you made her feel as if she was letting you down if she showed she needed you. Didn’t you get suspicious when she never had anything but good news?”

Spike sighed. “Look, she’s better now. Maybe still not quite her old self, maybe she never will be, but it’s no thanks to your sink or swim approach. She came damn near to drownin’, so maybe before you start on how I should treat her you should have a think about how you should make that up to her.”

“So, are you and Spike going to move into mom’s room until the basement is ready?” Dawn asked as the puppy scrambled onto the seat Spike had vacated so that she was within easy petting distance of both the Summers women.

“That was what I was thinking, but after our little spat this morning, I didn’t even want to ask whether he was planning on staying in the house now that Wes’ll be moving out of his apartment.” Buffy gave her sister a wry smile.

“Yeah, like you could chase him away with a flaming torch and a river full of holy water,” the teenager replied.

“Nope, but plain old know-it-all Buffy might manage the job all on her own.”

“Yeah, well she can be kinda tough to live with, but from what I overheard of this morning’s argument, I think she might have had a point, even if maybe she should have given him a chance to explain before she went ballistic.”

“So does that mean we don’t need to start moving your things, yet?” Anya asked.

“I think we just wait for Spike to come home, work out what to do about lunch and try to relax until Miss Siembeda gets here. I’d rather not be in mid move when she arrives,” Buffy admitted.

Dawn stifled a yawn. “I can live with that.” Dawn cast an appraising eye over her sister. “So you and Spike are all of the good again?”

“I just wanted to see what you thought about letting Brandon in on the whole demon, key thing.”

“Whoa there. Hold up. Those are two totally separate issues.” Buffy reacted on instinct, temporarily blindsided.

“But Lily’s invite for tomorrow is an ‘and guest’. She obviously wants me to take him, and it’s not like he hasn’t proved that he can be trusted and that well, I know it’s early days, but he does seem to care, and he sort of knows about the key thing anyway ‘cause of the whole second sight deal.”

“Dawnie, slow up. Yes, I get that Lily seems okay about you asking him, and given what his dad already knows about the demon thing, I guess it’s not like he’s a total ‘civilian’. You’re right. He’s earned a degree of trust, and as long as Lily and her family are okay about it, I guess there’s no harm in the demon telling. I’m just not so sure about this second sight, key thing. You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”

“The first time he saw me, just for a few seconds Brandon saw me as the Key, or sort of anyway. He said I looked all glowy like an angel. I feel bad about it, ‘cause he thinks it’s this whole romantic deal, but his grandfather has second sight so I figure, it isn’t and I feel like if I don’t tell him the truth then this whole thing between us is kinda based on a lie and I don’t want to be lying to him.”

Buffy frowned and pressed her teeth into her lower lip as she considered. "Let me have a while to think about it. Okay? Maybe see what Spike thinks."

"Spike said that he was okay with it, but that it was up to you. If you said no then he would totally back you up."

Dawn nodded solemnly. "I told him that I thought maybe we could have Brandon over tonight. It seems like if he's going to sometimes be in danger because of what I am, he should at least understand why and if he needed some convincing Spike said he would flash some fang."

"Sure." Dawn answered, confident that if she gave Buffy time to consider things that she would get the answer she wanted. She'd heard her sister complain long and loud enough about Spike's ability to read people to know that she trusted his opinion.

"So, are we allowed to discuss the Key thing again? I mean..." Anya looked around the room as if searching for bugs.

Dawn smiled at the currently blonde woman's concern. "They're not hearing anything they didn't already know, believe me."

"Should I go sort out some videos or something for when he gets back?" Dawn asked.

"Well, I guess that depends on how you feel about Passions." Buffy nodded towards the only tapes that were in proximity to the VCR.

Dawn rolled her eyes and paused only to call the dog from her spot on the sofa before heading upstairs.

Buffy pottered around in the kitchen for a while, putting on a fresh pot of coffee and putting together a bucket of cleaning supplies that Anya might need before she finally got the nerve to say what she wanted. "Seems like you and Xander are having a few issues. I hope we're not making things worse for you."

Anya sighed. "It's not your fault that Xander's being an ass. I love him. I do. He'll eventually come round. It's just having the patience to wait."

Anya shrugged and then gave a resigned smile. "Who do you think is more stubborn out of the two of us?"

Buffy couldn't help but smile in return. "He doesn't stand a chance, does he? If you do ever want to talk, though, it's not just Spike who's here for you, you know. I'm sorry if that's how it's seemed. You've been playing a valuable part in this whole demon fighting thing for a long time, but some of us took a lot longer than we should have to see beyond the Xander's girlfriend thing. You, Tara, Riley even and then Spike, none of you really got treated as equals. For my part, I’m sorry, but I want you to know that we appreciate you for you, even if it took us a while."

Anya’s smile brightened by several watts. “Thank you, Buffy. I think that may be the nicest thing anyone other than Xander has said to me since I became human, though Spike was very comforting when Xander cast me off like an old shoe.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty good at that. It’s probably years of practice on drunken women, lulling them into a false sense of security before he lured them off to their doom… And I really wish that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

“Local Hero, The Quiet Man, Casablanca, The Usual Suspects or The Princess Bride?” Dawn interrupted Buffy’s depressing turn of thought with a selection of videos that had all belonged to her mother.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Local Hero,” Anya offered. “Or The Quiet Man. Are they any good?”

“Em,” Buffy hesitated and drew a dirty look at her sister. “I don’t think Local Hero is exactly your sort of film.”

“Rabbit,” her sister mouthed in reply before continuing her conversation with Anya. “And if we put on The Quiet Man, ten to one John Wayne would be dragging his wife along the ground when the social worker arrived and we’d be accused of encouraging domestic violence.”

“Just lucky neither of you have a black eye. Or is that tempting fate the first time Spike and Giles have been left alone? Casablanca?” Dawn asked. “No one could get upset about Casablanca. Well, other than the normal multiple tissues upset.”

“Thanks for the comforting notion of my watcher and my fiancé in a battle to the death, Dawnie.”

“Think nothing of it,” the teenager responded as she flopped back onto the sofa having pushed the required tape into the VCR. “That’s what sisters are for.”

When Spike arrived back, Ilse and her husband were just making their first visit to Rick’s. “Hope you’re okay with KFC for now,” the vampire said, dumping a family bucket from the said establishment on the table before getting hold of the dog by her glittery collar and dragging her behind him as he headed for the basement with a brown paper sack tucked under his other arm.

Buffy smirked. “I suspect he’s making sure that this time he beats your beast to the food.”

“You can complain when it eats your dinner, Bit.” The vampire was back before Dawn had finished her moan. “For now, I’ll just eat my Zinger strips in peace.” He pulled a separate package from his jacket pocket, and covered the chicken pieces with chilli sauce before taking the empty spot on the sofa and tucking in. “I picked up another week’s worth of blood while I was out, but I figured best to stash it out the way in the cooler in the basement for now, just in case your woman follows you into the kitchen when you get her a drink.”

“Well,” said Anya. “I think it’s safe to say that he’s not planning on going back to his apartment any time soon.”

“What?” Spike looked to Buffy, suddenly on the defensive. “I just thought when the one watcher moved out, the other would probably move in. If there’s a problem though, I mean if you’d rather I left so the Watcher can stay here…”

Buffy would have let her touch give him his answer, if it weren’t for the teenager in the way, but Dawn answered for her before she could.

“Don’t be stupid. Why would we want you anywhere else? We just didn’t know whether to shift your stuff into mom’s room or not.”

“I think it would be nice for us to have a bigger room, so you can have more of your things here.”

Spike looked from one Summers woman to the other. “I’ve already got everything that counts.”