SECTION 1 - SHINE ON YOU CRAZY DIAMOND

You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.
Shine on you crazy diamond.
Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,
Rode on the steel breeze.
Come on you raver, you seer of visions,
come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!

(Pink Floyd)

Chapter 1.01

Spike lay on one side next to her on the floor of the narrow hallway with his head propped up on one hand, while the other stroked the planes of Buffy's face, drawing her back into the real world. They both still wore the long black leather coats in which they had left the Bronze, but their other clothes were in disarray. He smiled softly down at her dazed expression and watched her eyelids flicker open. "I guess you changed your mind about 'Wind Beneath My Wings', then."

Buffy smiled back at him. "I hadn't, until now."

"Are you okay, love?" Spike asked.

"If I said that I can't remember ever feeling better, would you get all big-headed?" Buffy teased.

"Pet, I've been struttin' around like the cock o' the walk since you agreed to go on a date. It's a bit late to go worryin' about me gettin' a big head."

"I guess I walked into that one," Buffy conceded. "Any reason I shouldn't be okay?"

"Well, something was botherin' you earlier, and then of course, there are all those side-effects that Rupert is lookin' for. So if you sprout fangs, I would like to be the first to know."

"Right, earlier... " Giving him a wry smile, she adjusted her top so that it was back in a position that actually covered her breasts, and smoothed down her wraparound skirt as she spoke.

"Yeah, love. You said you would tell me what was causing all the frowns when we got back here." Taking his cue from Buffy, Spike pulled up his jeans and refastened everything. He stood up easily, and extended a hand to Buffy. She took it and let him help her up, even though they both knew she could have flipped into an upright position quicker, if that had been what she had wanted.

"And I also mentioned opening the champagne."

Spike shrugged off his duster and waited to take Buffy's. "I reckon we can manage that. Why don't you go get comfy, and I'll put these away and sort out the wine?"

Buffy wandered through into the flat's main room. She debated whether it was best to get comfy there, or whether she should make her way to the bedroom. In the end, she opted for the sofa. It wasn't as if it made too much difference, she rationalised. They had never exactly limited themselves to the bedroom, and if they were going to get distracted, it wouldn't matter where they were. If the previous times Spike had tasted her blood were anything to go by, then they were going to be in for a busy night later. Spike was probably half-killing himself, trying to be restrained about it for long enough for them to have a conversation.

Buffy couldn't help but smile when she noticed that Spike's version of serving champagne appeared to involve a bowl of strawberries. "Hedonist," she accused.

Spike just smirked back. "Never did see the point in half measures."

Buffy was brought quickly back to the topic she wanted to discuss. "No, I guess you never did." She waited as Spike settled in beside her and dropped a strawberry into each glass before pouring the wine.

"What's on your mind, pet?"

"Rosa... Lily... Clem, Marie, me, Angel, the Initiative, us." Buffy's voice softened, and the look she gave Spike could almost qualify as shy. "Look, I'm probably not going to make a whole lot of sense; I don't exactly have everything sorted out in my head, and it's all vaguely connected, but not."

"I used to manage to make sense out of what Dru had to say. I think I'll cope." Spike tucked one leg under so that he could sit facing her and loosely took the fingers of the hand she wasn't using to hold her glass.

"Clem's brother was killed by the Initiative, wasn't he?" Buffy asked.

"Not entirely sure, pet, but I get that general impression. Yeah."

"That could have been me. I could have done that. If Maggie hadn't been trying to kill me. "Class 3", "not normally aggressive", "sometimes turn out to be racoons". That's Clem. I could have put Clem in one of those boxes and I would have thought I did a good day's work. And I still don't know I didn't kill him when we were trying to break out of there."

"You want to look at it like that, then I can't exactly vouch for my innocence either, pet."

"You're a vampire. Innocent doesn't really go with the territory. Shit. There I go again. Categorising people. Look all I know is being around Lily made me take a good look at myself, and I didn't like what I saw. I've been doing this for too long Spike. I've spent a third of my life fighting so-called monsters, and I think unless you can help pull me back, I'm not too far from becoming one."

"Pet, it's not like I don't want to help you, but it seems like you're forgetting who or rather what you're talking to."

"No, no I'm not. I know exactly who I'm talking to. Remember, back when you got the 'bot, I went on this slayer quest. I thought I was becoming hardened. That, well, I'd end up sort of where I was when I came back. In my vision I was told that the only way I'd lose the ability to love was if I refused it. I've been refusing it for years. I need you to help me open up. Ever since Angel, I've hidden away, built walls. I need you to help me tear them down. No more half measures, okay?"

Spike smiled back at her. "Pet, don't you get it? I'm not saying we're going to be living in each others heads or anything, but if things work the way I think, unless you make a conscious effort to hide stuff, things are bound to be more open between us."

"But I don't feel any different."

"I think maybe that's because mostly we're feeling the same things. After what happened before, I think that's only natural, but when I reminded you that you wanted to talk, it was like this little niggle. I knew you were worried about something. Just like if I think about it, I can tell that now you're mostly relieved and just a little bit worried... Okay, more worried. What's wrong, pet?"

"I can't feel you. Why can you feel me, but I can't feel you?"

"Love, you're confused as hell. You're not going to be able to work out what's you and what's me until you're a bit more sorted out, and there's no guarantee that we'll both be affected the same way. Give it some time. Okay?"

"Hey, I got it. You were all concerned there and then happy and relieved when I got it and back to the lust, which was kind of all mixed in with mine before."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing I didn't already get just from looking in your eyes." Buffy leant forward to brush her lips against his, letting her feelings for him come to the fore as she did so. Spike found himself wondering if he really could drown in her, as the gentle caress seemed to hit with the emotional force of a tidal wave.

His eyes searched her face as they finally drew apart. "Buffy, if we ever lose this, if things somehow go wrong and you leave me, promise you'll stake me first."

"Shh. This isn't going to go wrong. You promised me forever, and I'm going to hold you to it... but if I ever do leave you, if that's what you want, then I will." Mentally, Buffy filed away the promise as one more reason she was going to make what they had between them work.

"Thank you," Spike replied.

"You know I'm only saying that because I'm never intending for it to happen," Buffy told him.

"I know, but I know that now I've got your word on it, you'll stick to it, pet." Spike's eyes showed the same melancholy that Buffy could feel through their bond.

"Not gonna happen, Blue Eyes." Buffy raised her glass to his. "To us, for life... or whatever you call it in your case."

"Life suits me just fine, baby."

Spike woke first, for once the desires propagated by Buffy's proximity taking second place to the vague memory he retained of his dreams the night before. There was no cohesion to the dream, no hidden issue needing to be resolved, no real memory of the dreams events, just a cherished brush with the comforting presence that had been and would always be Joyce.

Buffy lay spooned against him, and he took care to move only his eyes toward the alarm clock until it confirmed it was time to wake her.

He placed feather soft kisses on her bare shoulders and neck until she stirred against him. Even before she was fully awake, she shifted closer to him, her leg hooking over his so that his dick lay between her thighs rather than against her butt. Spike threw another glance at the clock and decided breakfast would have to be courtesy of the drive through window at Micky D's. He tried a couple of slow thrusts, the head of his cock brushing against her moist folds until she leant forward and reached between her legs to guide him home. They moved against each other with infinite slowness, their overused bodies protesting at being joined once again, but at the same time, unable to resist the magnetic pull of mingled desire and love. It took time for this slow fire to build, each savouring anew the empathic connection between them. The more Spike was aware of Buffy's feelings for him, the more his own emotions radiated out to her, so that the bond seemed to amplify their feelings until their physical coupling seemed more a catalyst than an end in itself.

Still joined, they rolled so that Spike lay on his back with Buffy straddling him. He watched a bead of perspiration as it trickled down between her shoulder blades, following its path down to the smooth curves of her ass as they rode up and down.

Sitting up, he let one hand rove her body bestowing gentle caresses whilst his other brushed sticky strands of hair from her face and neck, laying bare the mark that made her his. Buffy trembled as his fingers brushed against the mark, and she remained in place when her hips ground against his. She started to use her inner muscles to work him, and reaching behind, she drew his head forward so that his lips covered the teeth marks on her throat. She didn't need to tell him. He could feel the upsurge in her desire, and he bit down, his jaws open wide enough to let his tongue probe the marks left by his fangs. His human teeth didn't break the skin, nor did his tongue tear the scar tissue that had only lately healed, but it was enough. Buffy came with a feral scream that was only just recognisable as his name, and he let himself be drawn with her.

As her tremors stilled he drew her back against his chest, holding her to him as he reclined into the mass of pillows that had somehow found their way onto the floor, along with the two of them and the duvet.

"Mornin', love." Spike infused the greeting with a wry humour that made it apparent he was well aware of its inadequacy.

"Right back at ya... love." Buffy shifted and then rolled over on top of him so that she looked down into his face. "Is it just me, or did we manage to make your bits all sore too?"

Spike grimaced slightly. "There's some light chafing. Nothin' that won't put itself to rights by tonight, and nothin' I wouldn't do all over again."

"Y' know this time when Dawn says I look all sore and limpy, I'm putting the blame firmly where it belongs."

"And where would that be, pet?"

"On you... and those sexy blue eyes... and those arms that feel so right when they're wrapped round me... on that dick of yours that fits so tight, it feels like I'm going to burst..."

"Somehow, I don't see your discussions with the littlest Summers being quite that frank and open, but feel free to tell Harris if he asks. He does like that "Best Friend" title. I say it's time he earned it." Spike craned his neck to kiss her good morning.

"I love you, you know." Somehow the words just tripped out of his mouth of their own accord.

"I know. After last night, believe me. I know, and the feeling's mutual, Blue Eyes."

"That's good." Buffy looked down at his mischievous grin, wondering what exactly was coming next. "So you won't kill me when I tell you we're meant to pick the witches up in twenty minutes for your little weekend shopping trip in LA..."

Spike waited till Buffy went upstairs to pack some things before he beckoned Willow outside.

"I've got a favour t' ask ya, pet... Think you can check up a bit on the computer, see what you can come up with on Dawn's lad? Check on his dad? See what happened to this teacher he replaced? I know it'll probably be a while before you get a chance, but I thought it was best to catch you when the young 'un wasn't around, 'n' I figured no point worryin' Buffy unless it turns out there's something to worry about."

Willow wandered toward the trunk of the car with her backpack, and Spike ambled alongside shrouded within the hooded sweatshirt once more. "Kind of there ahead of you. It all just seems to fit too nice. Alternative enough to be a proto-Spike, with a comic book T-shirt that got him and Xander off to a flying start. A dad that also has the perfect excuse to keep an eye on Dawnie through the day and the pair of them all-new in town.

Checking will be done, don't worry. I can already tell you the teacher he replaced died by neck rupture. Buffy had to swing by the morgue a few weeks back, just to play safe. I think they had substitutes in for a while until they took on someone permanent."

"Thanks, pet. At least that's something. Even if it only means they waited till a teacher got themselves made into somebody's dinner before they filled the gap."

Willow looked across at the vampire as he opened up the trunk. "You know we can't prove he's innocent. Don't you?"

"I know. If everything seems clean, then it might just mean they've got a really good cover. But if we don't try..."

Spike didn't manage to stay as far clear of the shopping as he would have liked this time. Instead, he was despatched to a nearby coffee bar only to have Dawn fetch him once any danger of him seeing "the dress" had passed. He was forced to sit with Buffy and Tara while the other half of the party tried on a multitude of dresses, only for Buffy to make them go back and try on the first one again.

Spike was having a hard time trying to figure out why Buffy wanted him there, when he could just as easily have waited in the car. It wasn't like she needed his advice, or even as if she'd take it if he offered. She seemed to be managing to avoid turning them into meringues, or picking a colour that clashed with Red's hair, all on her own, so why...

A small hand tucked itself in at his elbow and a blonde-streaked head came to rest on his shoulder, as her other hand moved to hide a yawn. Spike looked down and placed a gentle kiss on her hair content that he knew exactly why he was where he was.

Spike had a bad feeling about the night to come. Buffy had made a phone call to her father's LA number, and by some miracle Hank had deigned to pick up the phone. Apparently he was back at the home office for a couple of weeks, for training on their new software package. So now Buffy, Dawn and he were supposed to go and have dinner with him and his bit on the side.

Spike had vaguely been prepared to meet the guy on the day of the wedding, when he'd figured there would be too many people around for either one of them to say enough to start trouble. Instead, Hank had invited them to dinner at his country club, and Buffy had been forced to refuse because she knew not one of the three of them owned the right clothes, let alone had them with them.

Buffy had proposed that they might go to a small, family restaurant that they'd frequented semi-regularly when they still lived together as a family. The kind of place that didn't mind children, or people wearing jeans. Hank had agreed but managed to sound put out at having to change his reservations, so that he had Buffy feeling guilty before they even met up.

Spike was damned if he was going to feel guilty. Buffy had it in her head that they had to be nice to the wanker. Spike, however, was more than ready to tell the old tosser exactly what he thought of his so-called parenting and give him what for, for not stepping into the breach when Joyce fell ill to make sure Buffy and Dawn were provided for at least until they finished college.

Dawn was aligning herself with Spike, though she'd promised she wouldn't say anything without provocation. She hadn't told Buffy that by her estimation, she had over a year of provocation watching Buffy's academic career vanish and seeing her work herself into exhaustion. Still, she might hold out for a bit; at least until Hank decided to call Spike "boy" or some other patronising term. Heck, she wouldn't just wait. She would have paid for a ticket to see that one.

Chapter 1.02

"Spike, please. I need you to promise you'll behave." Buffy looked in the mirror as she put her make-up on, her gaze occasionally flicking to where Spike's weight left a dent in the bed clothes. It seemed that his lack of reflection was one thing she wasn't ever going to get used to. Spike, on the other hand, was more than happy to have both a back and front view of Buffy in her underwear.

"Pet, you know if I promise you anything, it's a matter of honour as far as I'm concerned for me to keep my word."

"I know. Th-"

"Then don't expect me to make a promise, that I've got bugger all chance of keeping," Spike interrupted, coming to perch on the corner of the dresser as he put on one of several new shirts Buffy had insisted on buying.

"But he might contest custody of Dawn."

Spike's tone softened as resignation seeped into it. "Buffy, the git won't contest custody. He is a kid. He doesn't want to look after one."

"But if he thinks you're violent, he could have her put into State care or something."

"He wouldn't get anywhere. We can afford better lawyers."

"It'd be a lot cheaper if you could just get along with him."

"Don't you know that I'm good friends with an assistant D.A.? Someone that graduated top in her year at law school, and turned down lots of well-paid offers to work in LA or New York so she could work as a public defender."

"And who would… Let me guess. Marie. Beautiful wasn't enough. She had to be brilliant and altruistic too."

"Brilliant enough that she's got restraining orders on your ex and as many of his mates as she could get identified, keepin' 'em away from her, Rosa and the flats."

"Wouldn't they just use someone else?"

"The theory is that if anything happens, they've created enough of a paper trail to make the soldier boys think twice. Mostly, it makes them look for easier targets."

"Like you."

"That depends on how far we take the legal identity stuff," Spike responded. "There's nothing stoppin' us from doin' the same as Marie, at least as soon as we know they know that we know."

"What? You mean you'd take out a restraining order against Riley?"

"Too right, I would, pet. And if you've any sense, you'd take one out to keep him away from Bit, too, if he comes back. Your ex hasn't been the kid from the farm in Smallville for a long time. He's been chipped and trained, fed steroids and all sorts of crap and, like as not, he's had a bit of brainwashing on the side. Not to mention the fact it's a damn sight easier for him to blame you or me or his brothel of vamp whores, than it is for him to take responsibility for things between the pair of you going t' hell.

He was never as squeaky clean as he wanted you t' think, pet. He used to have a stake made out of plastic. Looked like wood, 'cept it wasn't." Spike paused, waiting for Buffy to realise what that meant.

"B-but that doesn't make any sense."

"Not to you, maybe. But then you don't play with the demons you hunt. You kill them(,) or you don't. Captain Credible prefers to take his amusement where he can, and if he decides that Bit doesn't fall into the human category, you don't want him anywhere near her."

"B-but. He wouldn't. It's Dawn. He..."

Spike shifted along the dresser until he faced her, taking her shoulders in his hands. "Pet, that stake isn't something you buy in a hardware store. You don't get a chunk of plastic and whittle it down. You have to make a mould and mix the resin or heat it or whatever and then cast it and once you've done that to finish off, you paint it up. It had to be specially made, and he turned up with it the day after I took you to that place. That means he already had it. I severely doubt I was the first vamp he used it on.

Torture's a funny thing, love. It's never really been my scene, but some people develop a taste for it. Starts off as a necessary evil and ends up just for entertainment. I'll wager he does it all with a clean conscience because "demons are evil". Just don't under estimate what he's capable of."

"It just… I can't believe he would do something like that." Buffy defended her ex, refusing to accept she could have been so wrong about him.

"Fine, pet." Spike's tone became clipped and harsh and he pushed away from the dresser, leaving Buffy staring at her own reflection again. "Don't believe me, but if something happens to me, you get word to Marie and get her to get the documents issued just the same."

"Spike..." Buffy turned, catching at his sleeve with her hand, so that he turned back toward her. "I didn't mean that I didn't believe you, just that it's kinda hard to accept." She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her scantily clad body against his bare chest.

It had taken them a while, but eventually they had realised that their ability to sense the other's emotions only worked when they were in physical contact. It could be as simple as touching hands, but without physical contact, that element of their connection was lost. Maybe in time things would change, but for now, Spike trying to walk away from her was his way of shutting her out, and her efforts weren't meant as a physical distraction, just a way to re-establish their emotional link.

Buffy concentrated on trying to project her own feelings whilst trying not to recoil away from the pain and anger emanating from her fiancé. "Spike, get over it. Okay? I'm with you now. You are the one that I plan on being with for the rest of our lives. You are the one that's meeting my father tonight."

"Why the hell should I, when for all you've just said, you still don't bloody believe what I say?" Spike pulled her arms from around his neck and stepped away from her, starting to button up the front of his shirt.

"Spike. Don't shut me out. We're not playing here. This is for keeps."

"Then maybe it's about time you learned to soddin' trust me. Why the hell do you think I would bloody lie to you? It's not as if you wouldn't know straight off."

"Spike-"

"Look, pet. Just leave it. Alright. " Spike barked out the terse command. "This isn't something we can talk our way round. Nothing is going to fix it except time. Who knows maybe, at some point before our Silver Wedding, you might manage to bring yourself to have a little bit of faith in me." Picking up his cigarettes and lighter from the top of the bedside unit, he stormed through the front door.

Buffy grabbed the dress she'd been planning on wearing and pulled it on as quickly as she could but, of course, her haste made her fumble with the fastenings so that it actually took her twice as long as normal to get dressed. She half hopped, half walked to the door putting on her shoes as she went. Yanking open the door, she looked right and left, surprised to find the vampire nowhere in sight. She peered as best she could through the tiny cracks in the paint that covered the DeSoto's windshield, but was unable to discern the telltale orange glow of his cigarette.

The sun hadn't quite set yet, but the shadows the buildings cast had lengthened significantly, enough that she could imagine the antsy vamp playing dodge the sunbeam. This wouldn't be so much of a problem if there wasn't a taxi booked to pick up the three of them in twenty minutes time.

Buffy shuffled uncertainly and decided to check Dawn's room, using the pretext of seeing if the younger girl was ready. Spike had arranged it so that their room was separated from the two rooms the others occupied by most of the block, ever mindful of Dawn's all too receptive ears. The scent of cigarette smoke reached her just as she was about to knock on Dawn's door. She made her way round to the eastern end of the room-block instead.

"I'm sorry, you know." Buffy alternated between watching her feet and looking through her lashes at the tense vampire.

"Yeah?" he asked keeping his tone deliberately neutral.

"Yeah. If it was as simple as me being able to make a decision, then I would decide here and now to trust you. But you're right. It isn't. That doesn't mean I don't want to trust you, or that it hurts any less to know I've hurt you." She raised her hand to cup his cheek. "I love you. I'm sorry I hurt you. I do believe you(,) and even though I still find all this difficult to take in, it isn't because-" She was cut off when Spike laid a gentle finger on her lips.

"That's all I can ask, for now," Spike replied, even if it was far from being all he wanted.

"So what do you do for a living then, William?" Hank seemed determined to make a belated attempt to safeguard Buffy's welfare.

"I don't. I have some investments, which provide sufficient income for our needs." Spike responded.

"So you don't have a job? Nothing to fall back on if these investments were to fall through?"

"I've occasionally turned my hand to writing in the past. I still garner a royalty cheque now and again. I dare say, if I devoted more time to it I could make a living. Do you have some sort of point?

Maybe if you think I'm such a poor provider, I should ask you how you've done such a bang up job of providing for the girls since Joyce died? You must have quite the earning power to keep the little woman in Versace and pay the subscriptions on that country club you wanted to meet at and all this while you paid off Joyce's hospital bills that were left when the insurance company refused to settle and putting Buffy through college all at the same time. You must be quite the guy.

But wait you didn't look after them, did you? You didn't send them a red cent over and above what you were legally obliged to. Buffy was forced to quit school and work herself half to death in some shitty burger barn while you were off swanning round Europe and buying your secretary second rate diamond bracelets that still cost enough to pay a terms tuition." Spike pushed his chair away from the table. "I'm going outside for a minute."

As Spike breezed out of the restaurant, cigarettes and lighter in hand, Hank nervously cleared his throat.

"He seems a little spirited..." he finally commented.

"Yeah. Funny how he gets like that about the people he cares about." It was Dawn who managed the sarcastic drawl, but she only just beat Buffy to it.

"Well, you know if I'd realised how bad things were for you girls, I would have sent some money, but I'd always understood from your mom that she had everything in hand. I thought you were just being reckless.

I remember how you used to spend all of your allowance in the first week of the month on some jacket or something, and then you would borrow money from Joyce for the next three weeks. I figured I was just teaching you financial responsibility."

"Mom did have everything in hand. We would have done just fine if the insurance company had covered the medical bills. Don't you dare blame mom because you couldn't even make the time to come to the phone and call us."

"Buffy. Look, I know there have been mistakes, but I want to make it up to you. Marlene and I have discussed it, and we'd like to pay for your wedding. It's the least we could do."

Marlene picked this moment to join in. "We can hold it at the club. They always do lovely weddings there. If you give me a list of the groom's family and anyone from Sunnydale that you want to ask, then I can do all the invitations. It's as easy as if I were to give you all the names and addresses."

"Excuse me. I already have Aunt Arlene's address. It was in mom's address book." Dawn was perhaps the only person left at the table capable of recognising the edge in Buffy's voice.

"Well, of course you do, dear, and if you want to ask her, then that's just fine. I'm sure she'll be very welcome, but your father has certain business obligations he has to meet. There are client's who would be offended if something as big as this were to happen without them being invited."

"You can hold it right there, evil step-mom. This is my wedding, and if I want some Hitler Nazi telling me how to organise it, then I'll hire a wedding planner. If you want to have some sort of shindig to entertain Hank's clients, then I'm sure there are plenty of out of work actors and actresses in LA who'd love to play the bride and groom, but I'm pretty certain I can speak for Spike when I say we'll make our own guest list, hire our own hall in Sunnydale and pay for it ourselves.

And as for you," she turned to her father. "If you really want to make amends, then how about doing something with Dawn's college fund, huh? Or can't you get any PR out of that?" Buffy rose from her seat, picking up Spike's duster from the back of the chair next to hers as well as her own. "We'll see you at the wedding, if you can make time, and it isn't too far out of your way, but you should know that I've already asked someone else to give me away.

Goodbye, Hank."

Buffy turned to face Dawn, who was rising from her seat. "If you wanna stay..."

"It's fine, Buffy." Dawn walked past her father's seat on her way out, brushing a kiss against his cheek. "Bye, Dad," she whispered, an admission that even if he was in the wrong, unlike Buffy, she wasn't quite ready yet to cut all ties.

When she neared the cash-register at the front of the restaurant, Buffy pulled some bills from the pocket of Spike's duster. She pointed to the table where their main courses were just being brought out. "I'm afraid we won't be staying," she told the cashier as she passed over enough to pay for everything the five of them had ordered and a generous tip.

"Would you like to have your meals wrapped to take with you?" the slightly flustered man asked.

"Nah," answered Buffy as she made for the door. "It'd ruin the dramatic exit."

Chapter 1.03

"Hey," Buffy held out Spike's duster toward him. "We decided to skip dinner and go straight to the part where I tell dad to screw his country club and walk out."

Spike pulled his coat from Buffy's grasp, donning it as he made his brusque reply. "Really, pet. I'm pleased for you?" His tone was cruel, almost sarcastic. He stuck his index finger and pinkie into his mouth and let forth a piercing whistle that brought an empty taxi slaloming across lanes to pull in next to them in seconds.

"Why don't you take your brat kid sister and bugger off then?" Spike pulled open the rear door of the cab.

"Sp-" Buffy started to protest even as Dawn climbed into the back seat of the cab.

"Just for once, do what you're fucking told without arguing, you stupid bitch." Spike manhandled Buffy into the back of the cab, a feat he managed largely due to her shocked lack of resistance. In a softer tone he added, "Get clear of here before you give him any directions. Don't go back to where we left the car or anywhere else I know about. Tell the others to move but don't let any of them know where you are and don't try to contact me before sunup. Got that?"

"Spike, wha-"

"Get out of here, Slayer!" Spike slammed the cab door even as Buffy tried to speak to him, tapping on the roof to send it onward. Stepping back onto the pavement, he pulled a fresh cigarette from his pack and lit it.

He fixed his gaze on a dark alley on the far side of six lanes of traffic, his eyes able to see something in the shadows that wasn't visible to the human eye. He gave a last glance at the taxicab, watching its taillights disappear around a corner before he dodged the heavy traffic.

His head tilted slightly to one side, and his lips formed a lopsided smile designed to test the willpower of any female. "Long time, no see, princess," he drawled as he swaggered into the embrace of the woman who was waiting.

"What's going on, Buffy?" Dawn looked to her sister for clarification.

"I don't know, Dawnie. But I intend to find out." Buffy shifted so that she could watch the blond vamp through the cab's rear window. "Circle the block," she ordered the driver. She searched the face of the man she'd woken up beside that morning, but all she could see were the granite-hard planes of the monster she'd met in an alley next to the Bronze, years before. The cab turned off to the right, and she lost even that distant vision.

"Don't you think you should maybe do like he says and go some place that's else?"

"I don't know. Probably. But one circuit isn't going to tip anyone off, and it might let us know what we're up against." Buffy twisted back into a forward facing position. She couldn't work out what made him act the way he had. All she could try to do was the very thing he'd accuse her of being incapable of, and trust him. She was still trying to make some sense of his actions when the car pulled back onto the section of road where they had left him. She eagerly scanned the pavement to the right of the road, but it was Dawn's anguished exclamation that drew her attention to where he stood in Dru's pale arms. The diminutive vampiress leant forward, her tongue tracing a trail over one hollowed cheek as Buffy watched.

"Buffy?"

The blonde leant forward to give instructions to the driver. "Straight ahead." Her voice held a hint of defeatism.

"You're just going to let him get away with that?" Dawn's voice was incredulous. "You're going to let him talk to you like that and just walk out on you for his skanky ex?"

"Dawn. Shut up. Alright. I can't think with you..." Buffy stopped short of accusing her sister of whining. She pulled her purse out of her coat pocket, double-checking that she had all her bankcards with her.

She leaned forward again. "Know any decent places to stay the night round here?"

"How much are you wanting to pay?"

"Doesn't have to be anywhere fancy, as long as it's clean." She glanced over to where Dawn had sunk into a sulky slump in her corner of the back seat. "And I suppose it'd be best if it had cable," she added.

The cab dropped them off at a motel a few miles from where she'd left Spike and Dru. Buffy went through the motions of registering on auto-pilot. For the first time in years, her private life had been back on track, and now this.

First, she tried calling Willow and Tara's room at the motel. It rang on and on, either unheard or ignored, until she was forced to give up.

At the next number she tried, well-cultured English tones repeated the digits she'd just dialled and asked her to leave a message after the tone.

"Wesley, if you're there, please pick up. It's Buffy."

She waited several seconds before she spoke again. "Drusilla's in LA. I don't know-"

"Buffy? What's happened? Are you okay?"

"Wes? I'm fine. Well, no I'm not. Spike's with her."

"I see." The funny thing was that she believed that, unlike Dawn, he did. "Why don't you tell me what happened, from the beginning?"

Dawn listened in as Buffy explained about their shopping trip and aborted meal, making her opinion known by way of snorts and eye rolls, until Buffy picked up the phone and locked herself in the room’s modest bathroom.

Once he was sure that he had all the relevant information, Wesley asked the big question. "So, Buffy, how exactly do you think I can best be of use?"

"I don't know. Someone's providing the brains for the operation, and LA isn't my town. I don't know who to lean on to get information. Maybe you can make some phone calls. Spike said I shouldn't go anywhere he knew. That means your apartment may not be safe, or it could be as safe as you can get. It depends who's running the show and whether they're prepared to burn you out to get what they want, but it has to be your call. You may have a while before they pick up on you."

"We should arrange a rendezvous, in case you can't reach my mobile or any of us have to move, not that I know where you are, now." Mentally, Wes added that he could use *69 if he wanted to find out.

"Okay. Noon. Out front of the planetarium." Buffy named the most open area she could think of off the top of her head. Before she put down the phone, she couldn't stop herself from adding, "Wes, take care. I couldn't tell how many there were, but can we say overkill? And the Cuckoo Queen's no picnic on her own if she stops gibbering long enough to do her mojo. I still owe her for Kendra."

"I'll be careful. One hostage is quite enough." Wes's final words confirmed Buffy's fears.

Buffy put down the phone, taking a deep breath and thinking calming thoughts of the ocean as Giles had taught her long ago, before she tried Willow and Tara's room again. There was still no answer. Okay, good, they weren't at the motel because they were out having fun somewhere. Bad, they weren't at the motel because Dru and her minions had found the car before they even came looking for Spike and had already eaten them, turned them or were holding them prisoner.

Desperation made Buffy wrack her brains. She took the phone back into the main room and pulled a scruffy copy of the Yellow Pages directory from under the small table that separated the room's twin beds. She was three quarters of the way down the list of diners when she found the name she was searching for. She picked up and dialled the numbers, unaware that she had crossed the fingers on her left hand as she did so.

"Tina's Diner. How can I help?"

"Hi. Em. Some friends of mine are staying at the motel across the road. I can't get any answer when I try their room. I wondered if maybe they were getting something to eat? Two girls? Early twenties? Redhead and a sort of mousy blonde?"

The waitress glanced around. "You got a name to hang on those descriptions, honey?"

"Willow... Rosenberg?"

The waitress watched the pair in the corner as she called out. "Phone call for Willow Rosenberg?" The pair looked over at her questioningly, before the redhead made her way to the counter.

"I'm Willow Rosenberg." The waitress handed over the phone.

On the other side of the road, a young vampiress waited in the shadows with several of her brethren, watching the rooms that the cowering desk clerk had identified as being rented out to the group in the old, black DeSoto Huntsman. Little did they know they had been cheated of their quarry, or perhaps saved from their quarry, simply because Tara and Willow had decided to stop off for pie and coffee on their way back from the nearby multiplex.

"You've been a bad dog," Dru scolded, waving a finger at him,

"But isn't that just how you like me, my sweet thing?" Spike raised an eyebrow and gave her a rakish grin.

"You've been lost. Playing with the white hats, but they shan't keep my precious boy."

"And why's that, poodle?" Spike cajoled.

"I made a present for Grandma, but when I came back, she was gone, and now he sings for me." Spike wondered if he'd ever manage to understand Drusilla's ramblings again.

"So you've got a new boy toy, have you, pet?"

"He barks for me, but he liked Grandma best. He hates Daddy. Once we take off your leash, we can be a family again. All bad dogs together. Me and Spike and Lonesome. We’ll make Daddy into a bad dog, too. All four of us. Ruff."

She leant into Spike’s body, every inch of her pressed against him as her tongue flicked out to lick his cheek.

A chill ran through Spike, and he didn't know whether Dru was offering him heaven, hell or a little bit of both. "And a few dozen others beside." Spike looked at the mass of vampires, mostly female he noted, who were arrayed around the alley, invisible to the human eye in the dark.

"Lonesome likes children. I'm a great-great-great-Grandmama."

'Great,' thought Spike. 'Trust Dru to end up with a pyramid salesman come would-be neurosurgeon.' Maybe if he'd known the truth, he would have been even more worried.

Chapter 1.04

Buffy had left the most difficult phone call till last. She had no option but to try to enlist Angel's help, but she had no idea whether it would be given freely, or at all. Even in the four days that had passed since she had last seen him, her situation had changed in ways which made it impossible for her to gauge his reaction.

Angel hadn't been exactly happy when she and Spike had shown up in LA with her sporting a fresh set of bite scars. She couldn't say whether the fact that she and Spike were now on a more level footing would make his reaction better or worse. She did know that he wouldn't consider Drusilla's presence in LA of the good. Add to this the fact that she had no idea how things were going with Stephen, and she was swimming in a sea of tension.

Nevertheless, the point came where she simply couldn't put off the call any longer.

She listened as the answer-phone clicked in, debating whether it was safe to leave a message. Some of the people Angel worked with lived in the hotel, which made it a private residence. On the other hand, it was also a place of business like The Magic Box, and they'd never managed to find a way to bar Spike from there, even in the days when she had been at her most disparaging about his "obsession".

She returned the phone to its cradle, resolving to try again at five-minute intervals until she got a reply. Dawn sat on one of the twin beds, flicking through the music channels on cable. Eventually, she settled on a channel that was playing such obnoxiously tuneless metal music, that her choice could only be her way of expressing her disapproval at her sister's actions.

"Dawn, what exactly do you think is going on here?" Buffy asked.

"I think you're letting that bleach-blonde chip-head walk all over you and treat you like crap," Dawn huffed.

Buffy sighed. "Dawn, think about it. Before I would even give Spike the time of day, he offered to kill Dru for me. Do you really think he'd bail on me now?"

"But he..."

"He did everything he could to make sure Dru didn't set her not so little cadre of vamps on us. Spike isn't "with" her. He's her prisoner. She probably thinks it's her turn to torture him till he loves her again. He wasn't trying to be hurtful. He was trying to make it look like we weren't important enough to him to be of any use to her."

"Yeah, cause we all know that vamps like to lick their torture victims."

"Dawn. Just grow up. Spike is in danger, whether you believe it or not.

I don't know anything about the demon side of LA.

I'm going to have to ask my ex for help to go after his ex to save his ex's ex.

Right now I need your support, not the musical stylings of Slipknot at full volume. Okay?" Buffy itemised the facts as clearly as if she'd numbered them one to four.

"You want me to cheer him on while he cheats on you with the woman he shared a centennial with, then?"

"Damn right I do, since the first thing he was worrying about was getting your butt out of there. Or hadn't you realised that you're the reason he wouldn't take a chance on fighting his way out?"

"I just thought..." Dawn slumped back against the pillows.

"There's your problem. You want to work out why Spike's doing something, you've got to forget what you think and go with what you feel. And I know that we love each other too much to let Elvira be more than a temporary inconvenience. I trust him. Whatever things with Morticia might have looked like, he was just buying time or trying to see what he could find out, but it won't last. He's a- He couldn't lie if his life depended on it." A little, malicious voice in her head couldn't help adding that it just might.

Buffy was almost ready to pack up and head for the Hyperion in person, to see what was going on, by the time she finally got an answer to her calls.

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless."

"Hi," answered Buffy. "Can I speak to Jason, please?"

"I think you've got the wrong number, honey, There's no Jason here."

Buffy heaved a sigh of relief as the answer came instantaneously rather than after the hesitation that might have been indicated her callee didn't actually belong there.

"No, it's the right number. I just had to make sure I wasn't talking to a wrong guy. Who am I talking to anyway?"

"Slow up, strudel. Who're you? And why did you think there might be a wrong guy?"

"Well, for a start. I'm no-one's strudel. It's Buffy. And you still haven't told me who you are, but I'm beginning to think horny guy."

"Aren't we all?" the demon drawled. "Tell Lorne your problems, puddin'... Unless, of course, you wanna drive down in person and just sing."

"Sing? You're not related to some bald, red guy? Same taste in clothes? Got a thing for taking child brides into hell?" Buffy asked.

"No, but I think I might have met him once. More of a song and dance type of guy? Sort of a demon's Gene Kelly? But that's not why you called, is it?"

"Okay. How much do you know about Angel's family tree?"

"Not a lot. I think there's some sort of chart somewhere in the files, but other than the two I've met, I can't say that I've taken much of an interest. I'm not that big on the whole family deal."

Buffy let out another sigh, this one born of frustration. "Are you the only one there? Maybe I could speak to Angel or Cordelia? Where are they all."

"I think, em, look, there ain't no easy way of saying this. Cordelia's gone missing. Her car was abandoned in the middle of the highway same night you and delicious headed back to the hellmouth. Groo's just gone. All his stuff's been cleared out of her apartment. Everybody else is out stirring up everything that moves trying to work out where she's gone."

"Then I think maybe I've got some bad news for you. You know how Angel feels about Cordelia? You think Darla could have known about it, when she was in town the time before the time Stephen was born."

"I get a bad feeling about why you're asking this, but I'd say no. When Angel and Darla were doing the horizontal mamba, Cordy and the others weren't even sharing office space with him. I think the whole love-puppy thing came later."

"Well, I suppose that's maybe something to be thankful for. Not that it's any kind of guarantee that the wicked witch of the West End doesn't know anyway... Look. I can't tell you where I am, but you need to let Angel know that Dru's in LA. She's got a serious number of vamps in tow, and she's got Spike."

"Whoa, girl. What d' you mean she's got Spike."

"I mean he shoved me and my sister into a cab and walked into the lion's den, hoping she'd leave us alone if she had him, is what I mean. So far, if Spike's right about this bond thing, he's not dead or seriously injured, but I don't know, I mean vampire to slayer might not work like vampire to vampire, so maybe I wouldn't know, except I think I would. Even without the bond, I think I would, y' know?"

"Sure. Back home they call it kyrumption, muffin. I know. So you made an honest demon out of him, after all?" Lorne asked.

"Yeah, and less than a day later, his ex comes hunting for him somewhere that isn't where he'd normally be. Can't say I'm big on the coincidence theory."

"Me neither. What say I give you Angel cake's cell number, and you can give him a call?"

"Anything's worth a try at this point... Look, if you don't hear anything else before then, I've arranged to meet Wes tomorrow at noon outside the planetarium. I think it might be a good idea to get everybody together to sort out what to do about this.

In the meantime, if you've got any human friends with their own apartment, I suggest you get out and leave messages for anybody else that might head back there to do the same. They might already be watching the hotel though, so try to make sure you're not followed."

"Sure, dumpling. I'll high tail it on out of here as soon as I leave a message for the others. Now have you got a pen and paper ready?"

Angel used one hand to hold the demon up against the wall of the bar with his feet kicking against thin air. He was in full game face and gave the appearance of being ever so slightly impatient. The remaining patrons of the establishment held onto their drinks and tried to watch what was going on closely enough to be able to get out of the way if trouble came in their direction, whilst trying to give the impression that they weren't paying any attention at all.

"Now we're going to start again," the glowering vamp informed the demon. "And what it's worth is your life, what little might be left of it."

"I swear. I ain't heard nothin', honest." The red-skinned demon blinked green, catlike eyes as he gasped for enough air to make his reply.

"Then how come I've heard from at least two different sources that you're the demon to see."

"I don't know nothin' 'bout no girl, man. All I know is this guy comes lookin' for a way to some other dimension. Looked a lot like you in fact, 'cept for the brow and the eyes."

"Keep talkin'," Angel growled.

"Nothin' to tell. Put him in touch with this old guy I know, well demon, technically."

The tale was interrupted by the ringing of Angel's cell phone. Angel ignored it.

"Ain't you goin' to answer that?"

"And let you make a run for the door? I prefer to save my effort for beatin’ the truth out of you rather than waste time on the chase. Don't get me wrong, time was I'd like nothin' better than to give you a head start and let you think you had a chance to get away, But that's when I'm out for fun. In case you hadn't guessed, I'm not in a fun mood, tonight. So why don't you tell me the name and address of this demon you sent this guy to, and maybe I'll let you finish your drink in peace."

"Look, all I know is, you want big magic, then this guy knows the deal. He's got a book shop, down the bottom end of the strip."

"That's it? Don't you think I know all the people who deal in that sort of stuff?" Angel relaxed his arm slightly and then slammed the demon back into the wall so hard that its head left a dent in the plaster.

"N-not this one. He's new. Only came to town a couple of months back. And he can pass for human. If you put me down, I've got his business card in my wallet."

Angel grudgingly let the other demon regain his footing and search through his wallet until he found a bright shiny business card. The proprietor obviously knew his clientele, as the card looked more like a credit card than a conventional business card, thereby explaining its pristine condition in comparison to the other contents of the wallet.

Angel pulled the card from the demon's hand and headed for the exit. As he pulled the door open, he turned to address the still gasping demon. "This turns out to be a dead end, or you try to warn this guy I'm coming, and next time I won't leave you any arms to use while you're waiting for the replacements to grow in." The demon looked down at the severed arm that lay on the floor and treated Angel to an uncomplimentary gesture with the hand attached to one of his remaining three.

Angel waited till he was back in his car to try calling the number from which the missed call had originated.

"Blue Moon Motel,"

"Hi. I'm Angel. I think someone there might have tried to contact me on my cell phone."

"Man, we've got thirty-two rooms here, some of which are rented out by the hour, so if some gal... or guy wants to call out for some entertainment, then we don't see nothin' and we don't hear nothin’. Understand?"

Angel's mouth gaped open as he gradually realised that the clerk assumed he was a male prostitute. "Hey. It's... look, I'm private investigator, not ...not that I couldn't-" The vampire stammered in his embarrassment before beginning again.

"Look. Is there anybody there looks like they might be in trouble or anything?"

"It's a motel, dude. What do you think?" the clerk replied. "We're not exactly catering to the honeymoon crowd."

"Sure. Thanks anyway." Angel debated whether he should head for the bookshop (which he figured would probably be closed up for the night), or try the motel where, if the call came from a stranger, he would be at a dead end.

After a minute or so, he swung the car toward Santa Monica and one last demon bar. The chances were the call was probably a wrong number, and if it wasn't, and it was important they were bound to call back.

As he pulled away, he said his own name out loud several times in varying tones of voice from soft to gruffly masculine, contemplating its sound. "It does not sound like a male prostitute," he muttered, not quite managing to convince himself.

Lonesome and his group of young male vamps, who all looked like they might have been gym-rats in their previous life, let Angel get a couple of blocks head start. Then, they took off after the big black convertible leaping from roof to roof, exalting in the hunt, even if, for now, they only planned to observe. The roar of the traffic covered any noise they made, and if a bum were to swear he'd seen about thirty guys leap the width of the alley where he was sheltering from the wind then no-one would believe him.

Buffy hung up the phone. She'd left a message on Angel's voicemail. Presumably, he was caught up in some action or other regarding Cordelia's situation. Nevertheless, she was sure he'd take her message seriously, if only because Cordelia's disappearance might be connected to Dru's arrival.

For now, there wasn't much else she could do except maybe call Wes later. Angel and his green guy, had been warned about what was afoot. (God she knew too many Brits) Willow and Tara knew not to go back to their room before the four of them met up in the diner tomorrow morning. After that, it was a case of checking out the rooms in force and meeting up with however many of Angel's crew made it to the planetarium.

Suddenly faced with nothing to do except think about what could be happening to Spike while she sat in her motel room, on her lumpy, single bed, Buffy felt the first sting of oncoming tears reach her eyes. Standing up, she turned her back so that Dawn wouldn't see, and managed to almost disguise the slight waver in her voice as she spoke.

"I'm going to see if this place is too cheap to come with complementary bubble-bath," she informed her sister as she shut herself in the bathroom and let the sound of running water drown out any noise she might make.

"So, pet, what exactly do you have planned for this evening? Do I get to meet the wonder protégé?" Spike drew deeply on his half-smoked cigarette.

"Naughty boy. You shan't see all Mummy's secret things. Not before you come back to her."

"Aren't I back here with you, now, sugar plum?" the blonde vampire smiled coyly at his former paramour, his right hand brushed against her neck in a gentle caress as his left hand settled at her waist, drawing her close against him.

Dru tutted at him. "You're not my knight any more. The nasty girl holds the end of your lead."

"The slayer doesn't have anything to do with the chip, petal." Spike's speech slowed as he began to realise his former paramour had in fact meant something else.

"You wear your lead on your neck" Dru pulled gently on his shirt collar so that the scar at the join between his neck and shoulder lay exposed. "Mummy must take off your collar and your muzzle before you can come to tea again."

Despite his best efforts, Spike felt his stomach sink. Dru wanted her Spike back, and that didn't just mean getting rid of the chip. That meant breaking the newly formed bond.

Swifter than the human eye could see, Spike stepped round behind Dru. His right hand stayed in place on the left side of her neck as he moved, and he used his left hand to tilt her head on one side. The position left Dru basically defenceless against him. Whilst she might be able to remove some skin by scratching blindly at his hands or face, he could snap her neck in an instant.

"I don't want to hurt you, baby. Just tell all the kiddies to stay-"

Spike's words faltered as five crossbow bolts hit into his body in close succession from assorted rear angles.

Free once more, Dru sighed. "The death card calls your name, my prince. It said it was time for change, but my songbird warned that you would bite the hand that frees you."

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