Chapter 6

~Includes excerpts from a poem by Barbara Kingsolver and a song by Toad and the Wet Sprocket.

Spike fell back, screaming, the stake firmly imbedded in his chest. Buffy grabbed him and helped him to his knees. "Oh God, oh God," he whimpered, "It hurts, Buffy." He fingered the end of the wood that protruded near his left nipple. "Worse even then when your Captain Cardboard..."

Ignoring the throbbing in her own chest, she pushed him forward and examined the end of the stake where it exited through his back. "Riley staked you? Oh, never mind. Tell me later. Right now, we have to figure out how to get this thing out of you." She tugged lightly on the bloody point. "I’m guessing not in one big yank?"

He yelped, twisting away from her. "Okay, let’s not do it that way. It’s not a loose tooth, dammit, you can’t just go jerking it out. That way hurts." He leaned against her, panting. "Every way hurts."

She glared up at Travers. "This was your plan, you bastard. Tell me how to help him."

Travers knelt beside the Slayers. "He’s still alive," he said, astonished. He reached out with a shaking hand to touch the end of the stake. "I really didn’t believe he’d survive that."

Buffy shoved him back. "That so was not a smart thing to tell me. Believe me, I will make you suffer for this. Don’t you even think about laying a hand on him, ever again. Yeah, he’s alive, but he’s also in pain, thanks to you." She grabbed him by his collar, pulling him nose-to-nose with her. "Help Spike. Help him now. Right now. Don’t make me say it again, or so help me…."

Travers snapped his fingers at Manheim, who hovered eagerly over his boss. "Let Manheim take him to the infirmary, Buffy. They have tools there that will take care of this. They’re equipped and well trained for this sort of an injury."

Buffy raised her fist threateningly. "If you think I’m going to let you take him away, you’ve just crossed the line from Insane-O to… to… much more Insane-O. No way."

He gazed at her, impassive to her fury. "They also have pain killers. Morphine and the like."

Spike moaned, his eyes rolling. "Buffy," he whispered. "A bit of morphine would really hit the spot right about now."

She stroked his hair. "Alright. Shh… don’t talk, you’ll make it hurt worse. Be calm and let me take care of you. You’re going to be just fine." She stood and carefully lifted him into her arms, trying not the touch the ends of the stake. "Here’s the plan: we’re going to the infirmary. Manheim can lead us there. You can follow us, Travers. But Spike’s not going anywhere without me. I won’t let you hurt him again."

Travers motioned them forwards with a sweep of his arm. "Let’s go, then. The Council means you- both of you- no further harm. William has passed his tests. We are satisfied that he is neither a vampire nor a threat. You are now our guests."

"Bite me," Buffy spat, turning on her heel and following Manheim out the door.

*******


"Good Lord," Giles said, sitting in a chair beside Spike’s bed. "You look absolutely terrible."

Spike touched the enormous, white bandage that covered his chest wound. He reached for the button that raised the head of the hospital bed, wincing as his stitches pulled. "Don’t look so surprised. A day of torture and an impaling will do that to a man. It’ll be worth it though if you…" he broke off, noticing Giles’ eyes darting anxiously. "You did get the information?"

Giles flushed and looked down at his hands. "I found some information, yes."

"You got enough? You better not need to go back, because… well, you can’t. I bought you all the time I could. I don’t think I can take anymore of their sodding ‘tests’."

"The information I found will be sufficient. It’s only that… well, never mind that for now. It can wait a day or so, until we’re out of here at least. Too many eyes here, if you know what I mean."

Spike nodded. "Where’s Buffy?"
 

Giles scanned the room. "She’s in the hallway, shouting at Travers. I can’t hear much of what she’s saying… something about Hawaii, and the Old World, and…. bugles?"

"It’s Buello. You know, the demon bloke from the Old World. She’s trying to get him released. The Council captured him a few months back, brought him in to study. They’d never seen a Tokra demon before. They’ve been monitoring him, trying to find out what makes him tick. Travers said that Buello is the only demon they’d ever kept here that can turn invisible. I’m surprised they didn’t just cut him open, the bloody wankers." Spike bit down on his thumbnail. "Don’t suppose you brought along any smokes for your favorite Slayer, eh Watcher?"

Frowning, Giles lifted the water pitcher from the bedside table and poured himself a cupful. "No, Spike. You’re human now. Get used to doing without nicotine."

Spike snorted. "What, like it’ll kill me?"

"Maybe not, but it will kill me. Secondhand smoke." He poured a second cup. "Here, drink this and shut up. I’m going to talk to Buffy."

Spike took the cup. "Tell her to hurry up. I want out of this sodding country. There’s a reason I moved to America, you know."

"Spike, you immigrated to avoid having to watch Drusilla be slaughtered by an angry mob after a sloppy kill. Who was your victim? Someone famous. A politician? Or was it an actor? I can’t remember."

"Well, yeah," Spike said, indignant, "but that wasn’t the only reason. California has… umm… Disney, and also… uhh… sunshine."

"Right," Giles said. "Because vampires so detest poor weather."

Spike flopped back against the pillows. He closed his eyes. "Just get me out of here, Rupert," he said wearily. "Get me home. Please."

Giles watched him silently for a moment. He touched Spike’s hand. "I will, Spike," he said. "Just as soon as I can."

*****************

Buello followed the three out of the Council’s castle and down the busy London street. He chattered merrily, despite the fact that he’d made himself invisible. "Oh this is gonna be great, so great! Nothing like Maui in the autumn, I tell you. Not too hot, not too cold."

Buffy readjusted her grip on the handles of Spike’s wheelchair. "Is there ever a bad time to be in Hawaii? Tropical paradise sounds pretty nice to me anytime of the year."

"Sure, sure, it’s always swell. The sun, the sand, the coconuts. And when I hop a plane back to the mainland, I’ll have itsy bitty baby Julie in my arms. Can’t beat that, nope, just can’t beat that at all."

His voice sounded so nasally gleeful, Buffy had to smile. "You must’ve been missing her, all this time. How long has it been for you since the Old World? I know time works differently where you were."

"Well… it was only about a week in the demon dimension. Then, a few months in Council Castle, give or take. Hard to keep track of the days in that cell, ya know. So, not too long. But I miss her, yeah, that’s for sure. Gotta say, it’ll be fun to watch her grow up again. See her take her first steps, lose her first tooth, turn invisible for the first time. How many fathers get a second chance like that? Huh? Not many, I’d bet."

Giles waved down a cab. He helped Buffy lift Spike inside, placed the folded wheelchair in the truck, and told the driver to take them to the airport. "Catch a ride with us, if you’d like," he said to Buello.

"That’s be great. I’ve gotta get to Maui. She’s there right now, waiting for me. Gotta get there, gotta get there soon."

Spike leaned into Buffy. "No caffeine for this guy."

"He’s just excited," Buffy said, running her fingers through Spike’s hair. "It’s hard to blame him."

Giles sighed and, removing his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Quite hard, but all the same…"

"You okay, Giles? Your forehead looks all veiney."

"Just a migraine," he said, replacing his glasses. "Let’s hurry through the airport. Our conversation can wait until we’re home, but no longer." He patted the vanilla colored folder that laid in his lap. "There’s a great deal to discuss."

"Oh, no. What’s up with you guys now?" Buello asked. "Don’t tell me we have to start another world. That would be very wasteful of you, ya know. This one’s only slightly used. Besides, I’m just starting to like it here."

"No, no, nothing like that," Giles said. "The world is perfectly fine. It’s just… just some personal business, is all. Really, it’s no concern of yours."

"And thank God for that!" Buello said. "Last time I got involved with the three of you, it wasn’t my most fun day ever. I never had that much of a problem with the Old World. My bar raked in a ton of cash, you know. Plus, Ripper, I liked you better as a vampire. Look at you, all tan and alive. It doesn’t suit you."
 

"I shall endeavor to… oh, sod it all. Shut it, would you? I’ve a headache here."

Buffy’s eyes widened. "Umm… Giles? He’s one of the good guys. We don’t abuse the good guys. Don’t go all PMSey on him, okay? He’s not doing anything wrong."

"Sorry," Giles said, staring down at the folder. "It’s just… well, you’ll see."

"Why don’t you give us the Cliff Notes version now? It might make you feel better."

"Well…" He frowned at the back of the cabbie’s head. "Alright then, I suppose. The thing is… Buffy, during the battle to end the Old World, Angelus pulled the Gem of Amara from Spike’s finger, correct?"

"Yeah," she said, her face carefully composed. "Then all three of you caught fire."

"Ah yes. So, am I correct in assuming that the Gem of Amara was lost?"

She squinted at him. "Huh? Why does that matter? That was the Old World. You know, out with the Old, in with the New. The Gem of Amara should be safe with Angel in L.A."

"Or… maybe not," Buello said.

Giles cleared his throat. "Buello. Do you know where the Gem of Amara is?"

Though the demon maintained his invisibility, Buffy could almost see him squirm. "Well, maybe I might have seen it. It sort of rolled away from Angelus, and…"

"And what, Buello?" Giles asked tersely, cleaning his glasses. The look on his face told Buffy that he already knew the answer.

"And… well, it fell into the Hellmouth."

"The Hellmouth. Which means that… what? It was still the Old World, so it doesn’t count, right?"

"No, Buffy," Spike said, the morphine in his bloodstream making his words slur slightly. "Hell is immune from change. That’s why Buello here remembers everything from the Old World and Giles and I don’t."

"So the ring is in Hell. Great. That’s just great. Who has it, do you think? Oehnos?"
 

"No, not Oehnos," Giles said. "According to Rhyios, he did have it, initially. His army brought it to him after the Hellmouth closed. In the face of such a devastating defeat, the ring was a small victory. He used it to bolster the spirits of his troops, and they went off to attack an adjacent demon dimension. Believing the ring to be of no further use to him, Oehnos gifted it to his favorite disciple, along with several other offerings. This vampire left the demon dimension sometime during the past two weeks- I couldn’t narrow down the date, unfortunately. She should be somewhere in the United States, if Rhyios’ writings are correct."

"That’s good then," Buffy said. "We find the vamp, dust her, and take the ring back. No problem, right?" She watched as Giles shook his head and her optimism faltered. "Or not?"

"It could be simple, but for two problems. First, we have no idea where in the U.S. this vampire is. She could be… well, anywhere."

"Well, solving that’ll be just a matter of time and research, right? What’s the second problem?"

Giles removed his glasses and looked at Spike. "The vampire disciple is Drusilla."

Spike froze, shock paling his skin. "Dru."

Buffy grabbed his hands. "Hey, but that’s not a total bad. If the ring has to be with a crazy vamp, at least it’s one we know. It’ll be easier to find her than some stranger. What would Drusilla do with the Gem of Amara? Where should we start looking?"

"Check daycares, kindergartens, those sort of places," Spike said slowly, his voice chilled. "The blood of the innocent, that’s Dru’s fondest snack."

Giles leaned his head back against the seat, rubbing his temples. "Great," he muttered. "Children. That’s just bloody perfect."

**********************************

Chapter 7

Author’s Note: Though this fic takes place early in Season 5, I cheated a tiny bit and made one little reference to DoubleMeat Palace.

******

"So," Buffy said, walking into the Summer’s living room with a large tray in her arms. "Here we have one mug of cocoa- heavy on the marshmallows, one plate of French fries- ketchup and honey for dipping, two tablets of generic brand pain killers, and one large slice of apple pie. Will there be anything else, your highness?"
 

"Umm, yeah," Spike said from his bed on the couch. He pointed to the coffee table. "The remote control, please? Oh, and a thicker pair of socks. The gray ones, not the ones with the yellow toes. And while you’re upstairs, would you grab my magazine? And could you make that piece of pie a la mode?"

"That’ll do it, oh spoiled one. Another day of this and you’ll have to get a job so we can afford a maid. You are healed, you know." She perched on the edge of the couch and stroked a hand over the bandage on his chest. "Why don’t we take this off now?"

Spike shifted uncomfortably. "Don’t touch it."

Her hand froze. "What’s wrong? I know that didn’t hurt."

He sat up, forcing her to scoot off the couch. Reaching for the cocoa, he took a long sip, avoiding the look of concern in her eyes.

"Spike," she said, kneeling beside him. "You can talk to me about this. It’s okay."

Sighing, he laid back against the cushions. "It’s Dru. As soon as I’m back at 100%, we’ll go after her, hunt her down. You didn’t tell me, but I know Giles found her. I heard you talking with him on the phone last night. And I can feel the deception in you."
 

She touched his cheek, her eyes shuttered. "I didn’t want to lie, but there was no reason to worry you until you were better, until you could do something about it. Giles tracked her to Seattle, with Angel’s help. She’s been there for about a week. We don’t know what she’s up to, exactly, only that the math-geek prophet wrote that we’ll find her, and that there’ll be some kind of fight. A battle of the most dangerous sort, to quote Giles, but only between you, Drusilla, and I. But really, how bad could it be? Two on one are the sort of odds I like."

Grunting noncommittally, he shrugged his shoulders. "What’s the plan, then?"

"We’ll hop a flight as soon as you can travel and start by checking out the places you suggested… places with children. Giles spoke with an old friend of his, a demon hunter named Conn Lairgnen. He’s suppose to have all sorts of experience and connections that could help us. He’ll pick us up at the airport and help us find our way around the city."

He snorted. "Seattle. I should’ve known Dru would head there. She loved it in the autumn- all gray and wet and bone chilling. We spent a few years there, back in the early sixties. They’d just built the Space Needle. Dru loved to ride up and down the elevator so she could see the city." His lips twitched. "There was some sort of World’s Fair going on when we first went there. That’s why Dru wanted to go to Seattle in the first place. All the people walking around, you know. She said that looking down on them from the Needle was like picking over a banquet buffet."

"Charming," Buffy said, rolling her eyes. "Her with a buffet, you with Happy Meals on legs… you were the perfect, psycho couple, weren’t you."

"Not anymore," he said, taking her hand. "You know that was a long time ago. A different world, pet, literally. It doesn’t matter now. Except…"

"Except it’s still hard to think about killing her." She kissed his forehead lightly, ticking his face with her breath. "I know. I’ve done it, remember? And you were with Drusilla a lot longer then I was with Angel."

"Right," he said, his shoulders slumping. "So, you understand."

"I do. Even if I hadn’t been through hell with Angel, I would still understand." She curled her hand over her heart. "I can feel it, in here. Your fear, your guilt. The strength of your emotions… they’re so intense that they’ve become more real to me than my own feelings about Drusilla. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think I’ll be able to stake her either."

He pulled her against his chest, relieved. "Lucky for me. You killing her would feel the same as killing her myself. I don’t think I could stand it."

Buffy closed her eyes, remembering. "You stand it. You survive, though mostly you don’t want to, it hurts so much. You do the act because you have to, and you don’t let yourself think beyond that till it’s over. Afterwards, though… you have to deal with it. And it doesn’t ever go away, the weight of having had to make such a decision, no matter what the justification. You carry it with you, as a part of you." She shivered and snuggled closer to him. "Not the best part. Not even close. I had to kill Angel- there was no other option. But we can figure out a way to get the Gem without killing Dru. You don’t have to go through what I did."

Spike rubbed a hand over his face, pale with shock. "Buffy… I just felt all that, you know? All you felt about Peaches. It was… well." He shuddered. "I’m not used to this, to feeling things like this. Guilt… it’s new to me. You did what you had to do, pet, no mistaking that. It doesn’t make it easier though, does it."

They fell silent, each drawing in comfort from the other. Buffy listened to the beat of Spike’s heart, letting the steady pulsation calm her. She smiled as Spike buried his nose in her hair, knowing how he loved the scent of her shampoo. He nuzzled the crown of her head, then lifted her face to touch his.

Meeting her eyes, only centimeters away from his own, he felt himself fall in love with her all over again. Her gaze held all she felt for him, and he knew that no matter what it cost him, he’d protect her from Drusilla. He’d protect her from anyone, anything that could steal that look from her eyes.

He’d even protect her from himself.

**********
 

"You guys are leaving again?" Dawn whined, sitting on the living room floor and watching Buffy sort through her weapons. "You just got back. You hadn’t even finished unpacking, and off you go."

"Sorry Dawnie. But, you’ll have fun staying with Giles. It’ll be like watching PBS without a television. And it’s only for the weekend, till Mom’s out of the hospital." She handed Spike an axe. "It’s not like I want to go, you know. Sacred duty for the Chosen One, remember?"

Dawn grabbed Buffy’s shoulder, her fingers tight. "Hey," she said, anger flashing in her eyes. "Sister, remember?"

More than a sister, Buffy thought, looking into Dawn’s face. She still hadn’t figured out how to tell Dawn who- or what- she really was. "I know we haven’t spent much time together lately," she said. "I’m sorry. Things have been crazy. You know what’s going on, with Spike and I and the soul thing. And now there’s this new prophecy… I can’t even tell you how much I wish we could just hang out at the mall for an afternoon or something, but…"

Dawn flushed, contrite. "I know. You gotta save the world all the time. I’m being a brat."

"It’s not the whole world this time, Bit," said Spike from the doorway. "Just a lot of people."

"A lot of people in Seattle. Not here. Isn’t this suppose to be the Hellmouth? Why do you keep having to fly away to find trouble?"

"I dunno, Dawn. Maybe it’s like a Hellmouth franchise or something. DoubleMeat Palace inspired them."

She giggled despite her annoyance. "Yeah, right. Can you imagine the advertising? And what would they call it? Demons-R-Us? McApocalypse? Can you imagine the food they’d serve? You thought Gary-burgers were bad… Oh, oh! They could give out little finger puppet monsters at the drive thru windows so the kids could play imaginary Hellmouth with them!" Looking over at Spike’s skeptical grin, she dwindled off. "Or… not, I guess. Wouldn’t pull in much money, what with all the maiming and blood drinking and death."

"Yeah. The beasties who go for that sort of thing wouldn’t have much in the way of spare cash, pet."

Flinging a pack of weapons over her shoulder, Buffy walked over to Dawn and held her hand out. "C’mon. We don’t have to leave for the airport for another hour or so. Let’s go fix up some of those fajita’s you like so much." Helping Dawn to her feet, she looked over her shoulder at Spike. "I know one newly-human who could use some fattening up."

Following the girls out of the room, Spike smirked. "For the slaughter," he muttered, shaking his head and following them into the kitchen.

***********

Buffy and Spike sat on the floor outside the gate to their flight, staring up at Giles. "You think he’ll be done anytime soon?" Spike whispered, nudging Buffy in the ribs. "We’re on to hour number two here. You’d think his throat would’ve gotten sore before now."

"You think this is bad? This is nothing. You should’ve known him when I first met him. Willow, Xander, and I developed this whole way of communicating without talking…"

"AHH HMM," Giles said, narrowing his eyes at the Slayers. "Are you listening to a word I’m saying?"

A crackling voice came over the loudspeakers. "Final call for United flight number 6660, with service to Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Seattle. Final call."

"Thank God, we can go. But… umm… does that flight number make anyone else a bit nervous?" Spike said, grabbing his carry-on bag. "We’d better be off, Buff. Sorry Watcher, lecture time is over."

"But…"

"Giles, we have to go now. See, look, the boarding attendant is glaring at you. Everyone else is already on the plane." Buffy handed her bag to Spike and motioned for him to go through the gate ahead of her. She put a gentle hand on Giles’ arm. "We’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll call you as soon as we know something. And you’ll call me…"

Giles ran his fingers through his already mussed hair. "If the doctors have any problems with your mother, yes. She’ll be fine though, thanks to your… ahm… foresight. Now, don’t forget the vials of Holy Water, they are an extremely effective weapon that we too often neglect to carry."

"Giles."

"I know, I know," he said, "but there’s no such thing as being too prepared. I don’t want to leave anything out."

"Don’t worry. Spike’s back in top form, I’m stronger than ever, and Drusilla’s still the same psycho vamp we all love to hate. Or," she said, thinking of Spike, "most of us love to hate."

Giles blushed, then leaned closer to her. "I… ahm… I think that… well, perhaps it would be wise to keep Drusilla ignorant of your… ahm… relationship with Spike."

"Of course. I’m not even gonna tell her he’s got a soul, much less whose it is."

Coughing, Giles removed his glasses. "Very good, yes, but… also, I think you should make a secret of the fact that… that the two of you… that you’re…"

"Bridge partners?" She smirked at his glare. "Oh, I know what you mean. No worries. I’ll only tell her we’re working together. I don’t think Spike’ll have a problem with that. This whole deal is hard enough on him as it is."

"He’ll be alright, you think?"

"Well, right now he’s drinking something alcoholic. I can feel it making his muscles relax. Don’t know if that’s a good sign or not, since it’s not even noon yet."

"That’s rather eerie, you realize. At any rate, I was referring to his emotional wellbeing. Will he be alright?"

She looked away. "He’ll have to be. I can’t do this without him- this is his stupid destiny! It’s not going to be easy. There must be something that the prophesy left out, some reason that fighting only Drusilla will be so dangerous. And that whole part of Spike’s mystic vision fortune cookie that says life will lead him to his gift, which is hate? I’m trying not to think about it, trying to concentrate on the battle part, but… well, I’m way freaked out about it."
 

"That’s not unwarranted, Buffy. After all, look where your vision took you. Your destiny was so dramatic, so critical to the fate of the world…"

"Thanks," she said, sarcasm twisting her lips. "I feel so much better when you remind me of that."

"No, no. I don’t think Spike’s will be anything like that. Accomplishing your fate was physically demanding, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Spike’s lay in the emotional realm. He’s never been to most aloof of creatures, you’ll allow. He would be suited to make some great leap of passion. That seems to be what his guide was suggesting by calling it zero."

"I still don’t get that whole math thing."

"If you think hearing me talk about it is confusing, you should’ve read the scrolls themselves. There’s nothing worse than a long-winded prophet. Not to worry though- you’ll pull through this spectacularly, you always do. Besides, luck should be on our side this time. How many apocalypses can possibly occur in the span of half a decade?"

Buffy shook her head and, glancing apologetically at the annoyed attendant, walked to the doorway of the gate. "You just had to say that, didn’t you," she said, giving him a smile of affection.

"Yes, well, if it all goes to pot, I’ll take the blame. Don’t forget to call me as soon as you can. Say hello to Conn for me, and tell him I’ll have his head if anything happens to you. And… and good luck, Buffy." He waved once, then walked away.

She watched him a moment then, squaring her shoulders, boarded the airplane.

Chapter 8

********************

Seattle, Washington

Two Days Later

********************

"You’re sure this is the place? It looks so… normal." Buffy climbed out of the car, followed by Spike and Giles’ friend, Conn. She scanned the scene, confused. Of all the places she’d seen vampires nest, an ordinary suburban house definitely ranked as the oddest. "I know you’ve never met Drusilla, but let me tell you, normal that vamp ain’t."

"Weapons," Conn grunted, opening the trunk and handing Spike a sword. His face, ruddy with age and too much bad weather, tightened. "Hurry."
 

Spike grunted back, mimicking him. "Don’t you ever say more than a word at a time? You and Rupert must be a bloody riot together. Him jabbering on, you being all gray haired and pissy. Or," he said, sniffing the air knowingly, "more like pissed. Didn’t you hear, the Prohibitionists lost. No one’ll take it away from you, so maybe you should consider pacing yourself a bit. At least when you’re driving us around, that is."

Conn tossed a leather bag to Buffy. "Stakes." He slammed the truck closed and turned to Spike, scowling. "Immortal coward," he said flatly. "Car wreck won’t kill you. Why do you care?"

"Spike, geez. What is it with you and old guys? Do you just enjoy pissing them off?" She opened the bag and passed stakes to the men. "For the vamps, not each other," she said, catching the twitch of Conn’s lips just in time. "Conn, you promised Giles you’d help. Now, go scout around to the backyard, see what you can learn. We’ll wait here."

"What?" Spike said, the picture of innocence. He watched the old man scuttle away. "You have that look in your eyes, Slayer. That one that says, ‘if only he were my mortal enemy again’."

"Yeah, well, when you bait the guy who’s helping us into wanting to kill you, it makes me think things might’ve been easier if I’d staked you back then."

"Giving me this sodding soul was your idea, not mine," he said, his eyes glittering as he turned away from her.

Shaken, Buffy laid a gentle hand on his back. "Hey," she said, rubbing between his shoulder blades. "I was joking. Of course I don’t wish I’d dusted you. C’mon, don’t be like this. You’ve been all big with the grouchiness ever since we left Sunnydale. Is it the weather here? ‘Cause, I remember reading that during the winter, Seattle has the highest number of suicides in the whole country. So, at least you’re not alone with the crankiness… if that’s it." Noting how tightly his muscles were bunched under her hand, she stepped away from him. "It’s not the weather, I guess."

He whirled around and, grabbing her shoulders, pinned her to the car. "No, it’s not the sodding weather! It’s… it’s the whole bloody stupid business! I’m here to stop, and maybe kill, the woman I loved for over a century! Why isn’t that registering with you?"

"It is!" she said, breaking free with a shrug. "I know this isn’t easy for you. It’s hard for me, too. I share your soul, remember?"

"How could I bloody well ever forget!" He looked down at his chest and tugged at his tee-shirt with both hands, as though ripping into his skin. "All these feeling," he spat, "the guilt, the responsibility, the sodding desire to be better than the creature I was! It’s tearing me apart, Buffy."

"What… what do you mean? I thought you were dealing. You seemed better, after your quest."

"Better," he snorted, "better. Sure, I was better. You threw all your swirly feelings at me through our soul. Love and worry, and about a dozen others. I felt better ‘cause you’ve been feeling so many emotions, there hasn’t been any room for my own!"

"You… you don’t know that," she said, her legs shaking. She sank to the curb. "You don’t know which feelings are mine and which aren’t. How can you be like this? What are you saying?" Her eyes screamed at him, filled with all the things she was too proud to say. Things like: you love me. Don’t you love me? Don’t you know you’re killing me, that every single word you say is reminding me of who you aren’t?

"I’m saying… I don’t know what I’m saying, exactly," he said, sitting beside her. "I love you, I do. It’s just… you want me to be this sodding hero. All noble and fighting the good fight and such. And I’ve tried, Buff, I’ve worked my sodding tail off. Put up with all those nancy-boy Watchers and their tests. But I’m not a hero, I never was. I don’t know if I ever will be."

She caressed his hand tentatively. "You’re hero enough if you keep fighting for our side. That’s all it takes."

Jerking away from her touch, he sighed. "No, that’s not all it takes. Well, to gratify your bloody Powers That Be, maybe. But not to satisfy you, not really." He shook his head, preventing her from disagreeing. "You can’t fool me, Buffy. I can feel everything you are inside. You can’t stop comparing me to the Spike you knew in the Old World. The one who you fell in love with. Your real soulmate."

"Don’t be an idiot," she yelled, jumping to her feet and standing above him. "You’re my soulmate. You’re the man I love. You. Why won’t you believe that? You don’t know what I feel. Like you said, it’s all swirly, all these feelings you’re getting from me. You’re just trying to piss me off, aren’t you? Are you trying to push me away? What’d I do to you, to deserve this?"

"What’d you do?" he shouted, standing and shoving her away from him. "What did you do! This!" He pounded his fists against his chest, furious. "You did this! You put this soul in me, and now I’m nothing! Before you mucked me up, I was a master vampire. Do you know what that means? I had everything. I was a king!"

"And a real modest one too, huh?" She reacted with instinctive, defensive bantering, the kind of mocking that had punctuated every encounter she and New World Spike had shared, pre-Glory.

"Shut! Up!" he growled, pushing his face into hers. "You’ll never understand what I had, never! Now, all I am is… is…" he waved his hands helplessly. "All I am is you. There’s nothing of me here. Not anymore. You did more than give me your soul, pet. You took my demon away."

"Gee, I took away the part of you that loved to kill and eat people?" she said, sarcasm ripe in every syllable. "So very wrong of me. And you… what? You love me, but you hate me for giving you a soul?"

He glared at her, his jaw clenched, then deliberately looked away and held his eyes on something she couldn’t see. She watched him, puzzled as she first felt his fear, then saw the color drop from his cheeks.

"What is it?" she said, grabbing a stake from the bag. Standing on her toes, she looked down the street. "Oh. Wow. There’re a lot of them, huh?"

"They’re coming. It’s broad daylight and they’re coming. Something’s up, something… I don’t know what. There are dozens of them. How can they all walk under the sun like that? There was only the one Gem." He looked down at Buffy and touched her cheek tenderly. "Pet… no matter what you think about what I said just now, remember that part of it was ‘I love you’,".

Her heart broke for him as both his turmoil and his love poured across their connected soul. "I love you too," she said, forcing out a smile. She handed him a stake. "Oehnos must’ve had more Gems, maybe from other worlds, other dimensions. It doesn’t matter right now though. Time to fight. Concentrate, okay?"

"Yes, my Spike," said a familiar voice from behind them. "Come here, come here and concentrate on your princess."

Chills danced up Buffy’s backbone. She whirled around, gripping Spike’s arm tightly in her left hand. "Drusilla," she said. "Nice house. What, are you gonna join the PTA next? Hold a bake sale to raise funds for Suburban Vamps of Washington?"

The vampiress didn’t look at Buffy; her attention centered solely on Spike. He shivered slightly under Buffy’s hand.

"No, no, no," Dru muttered, circling Spike curiously. "You’re not my Spike now, are you? My Spike had teeth and flames and hate inside him. You… oh!" She grasped her forehead. "I see it now, I do. Why didn’t I before… but I do now, I see you. Not my Spike, no, you’re my William now." She turned her eyes on Buffy, growling lowly. "You took him, you turned him into a clean, pure man."

"Stay away from her, Dru. This is between you and me." Spike moved between the women, shoving Buffy behind him against her protests. "Just me and you, ducks."

Drusilla glided against him, rubbing herself against his chest. She ran a sharp fingernail down his cheek, then licked the blood that welled on his skin. "I know what you are, my darling. Don’t I, then?"

He stood rigid, one hand on Buffy. "You always did."

"Does the little girl know, I wonder? Does she know what you are full of now? Not teeth and flames, but hate… oh, I see the hate in you, still wound round and round your spine like vines. You could be mine again, my William."

"She knows what’s there, Dru. Quit with the seer crap, yeah? Can’t we fight already? I see your mates agree with me. Look at them, chomping their fangs, ready to go."

Dru snapped her teeth at him. "They’ll wait, you know. They worship me. You would too, if the Master had shown you what he’d done. Bettered me, he did, and he’ll make me better still. I’ve brought him all he needs, all but one thing. One tiny boon I have to bring him, jealous boy that he is. He knew, you see, that you’d been tainted with a soul. He must have known, and not told me." She clucked her tongue, her face sad. "Secrets, secrets. They blacken us all. He hates you, William. He smells you on my skin, like perfume. He gave me this lovely sunshine jewel, and now I must bring him a prize of his own."

Brushing past Spike, Buffy said, "What’s she talking about? How do you understand a word she says?"

"I know exactly what she’s saying." Spike stared hard into Drusilla’s eyes. "A boon for a boon, is that the way of it then? And he’ll take nothing else?"

"Nothing else, no. You are a pretty prize, my William, that I always knew, and my Masters knows it too." She scratched her fingers through his hair and nuzzled his neck like a cat. "He wants William to die and Spike to live. Let me take what I need from you, and your little girl will breathe to play again."

"Buffy," he said, his eyes locked on Dru’s. "Go. Now."

"What? No. There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone." She grabbed his hands, forcing him to face her. "You looked into her eyes, she must’ve mojo’d you into a trance or something. I don’t know what she wants from you, but you can’t give it to her."

"She’ll kill you," he said simply. "Tear you into so many pieces, no level of immortality will protect you. You are leaving. You’re leaving now." He gave Dru a nod.

Drusilla snapped her fingers in the air, motioning for her minions to advance on Buffy. "Hurt her, my children, and you will be my toys tonight. Not a scratch, not a drop of yummy blood. Take her away from here."

Before Buffy could react, the undead horde was upon her. They swept her away in a rush of arms and legs, too many for her to fight. "Spike!" she screamed, struggling against the many hands that held her. "Don’t do this! I know what you’re doing! It’s like your guide said! ‘Hate will bring you to your gift’. Don’t give it! Don’t!"

He purposefully ignored her, focusing on his sire. As soon as Buffy’s cries were too distant to be heard, he held his hand out to Drusilla. "Come on then, kitten. Take my life. Turn me."

She laughed, her eyes glinting devilishly as she drew him towards her. "This’ll only hurt for a second," she said, tilting his head to bare his neck. "Sorry for that."

He grunted as her fangs bit into his skin. "I remember, pet," he said. His knees weakened. The pair slid to the ground, tightly interlocked. "Oh, God," he sighed, whimpering as his vision went black. His body fell bonelessly against Drusilla, delighting her into drinking even deeper.

Finally, she released him, and stood above his corpse. "Sweet William is dead," she sighed, and opened her wrist with a single slash of her fingernail. "Time for my Spike to be born."

She scooped him up and laid his head on her breast. "Open wide," she said, and rubbed her wound against his lips. "It’s your birthday, my own wicked boy. Happy birthday to you."

Chapter 9.

********************

One weeks later

San Juan Islands,

north Washington State

********************

Moss coated the rock she sat upon, but Buffy paid it no mind. She stretched her legs out in front of her, resting her back against the damp truck of a cedar tree. The wind, thick with the scent of salty Puget Sound, whipped her rain-dampened hair into her face. With a single, slow movement she brushed the cold strands away, then held her hand in front of her face. She studied its paleness against the backdrop of rich browns and greens that made up the forest, but barely registered its unique curves and lengths of fingers. Her mind was occupied, busily repeating an internal record of other remembered hands.

Hands carried her down the street, so many hands Buffy couldn’t tell where they held her and where they didn’t. Fear smothered her anger, and she shouted for Spike to stop, shouted over and over, knowing he couldn’t hear her. She gasped, feeling the sting of Drusilla’s fangs as they entered his neck, feeling the life drain out of him. Life she herself had given him poured away down the vampire’s greedy throat. A terrible wrenching rose within her as half of her soul died. Keening, she tried to curl her body into a ball around the pain, but the hands that bore her wouldn’t allow it. She lay back against the hands, staring up into the heavy, gray sky, a wounded animal being carried off –for all she knew or cared- to the slaughter. Then, suddenly, the wrenching disappeared. Her soul grew calm. She fell so quiet inside that she knew he was gone from her, truly gone. The silence bit into her. Too quiet. Too empty. Too much of nothing. She began to scream.

"Buffy, there you are," Giles said, walking up the hill towards her and pulling her from her memories. He offered her a cup of steaming tea, and a troubled smile. "Sorry to disturb you, but it’s growing rather stormy out here. I thought you could do with something to warm you. Or a bit of company on the walk back down to the cabin."

She took the mug and sipped from it, her eyes still inwardly focused. "Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here a while longer. Look," she said, pointing down the hill, "a deer. Like Bambi, but bigger."

"Yes, there’s nothing but deer on these islands." He looked down at the book he’d brought, its title, "The Wary Traveler’s Pocket Guide to Demons and Dimensional Fauna", and knocked his knuckles against a tree superstitiously. "Hopefully."

Picking up on her Watcher’s tension, Buffy forced herself to concentrate on him. "I don’t have to be the Slayer again already, do I? I thought that was the point of coming here instead of going home. No stress."

"No, no, there’s nothing transpiring. Don’t worry. I just didn’t want to tempt fate, is all." He dropped to his knees beside her on the hard packed dirt. "Did you enjoy your morning in the woods?"
 

She looked away, over the treetops and out to the gray waters of the Sound. "Sure. It was… morning. And these are woods."

He patted her knee. "I collected Willow from the ferry dock and helping her to unpack. She’s nearly as bad as you are when it comes to carrying everything she owns wherever she goes. Of course, with you it’s weapons and clothes, not crystals and yak cheese."

"Willow’s here?"
 

"Yes, she’s just arrived. She wanted to come search for you herself, but…" He looked up at the burgeoning storm clouds. "She’s unfamiliar with the forest. Won’t you come back now, ease her mind a bit? She’s tremendously concerned for you."

"Is she…" Buffy hesitated, struggling to focus. "Is she mad?"

"At you? Not at all."

"I haven’t… I never talked to her. My best friend. Never told her about the Old World, about…" Her voice broke slightly. "I never told her about Spike."

Giles stood and helped her to her feet. "I took the liberty of calling a meeting before flying out of Sunnydale. Xander, Willow, your mother, Anya, Tara… they know everything. I’m certain Dawn filled in whatever bits of information I left out,"

"And you’re sure she’s not mad? Spike… well, none of you ever liked him much." Buffy said, taking Giles’ hand. He raised an eyebrow in surprise at her rare gesture of vulnerability, but squeezed her hand tightly. They walked side by side towards the cabin.

"We did dislike Spike, and not without good reason, as you know. But Buffy, Willow is your friend. She trusts your judgment, as do we all. I have a unique perspective on your relationship with Spike, and I did my utter best to impart the same view into the minds of the rest of your friends. She’s not angry with you, I promise. But, she is very worried."

"Ah. Worried. That’s loads better."

"Well, it is, but still tiresome to you, I expect. Just take care of your own needs right now, Buffy, don’t stress yourself by reassuring the rest of us. We know you’re going through something enormous…"

"Do you know? I mean, really? Has this ever happened before, Giles? In all your books, in all that history… has anyone ever lost half of themselves?"

"Literally speaking… I’m afraid not. As far as I can tell, you are the first."

"Yay me." She kicked at a rock absently. "Again."

Giles nodded. "Always a groundbreaker, aren’t you. Yes. Well. And you haven’t felt… have you?"
 

"Not a single bleachy twinge," she said, her voice flat. "I haven’t felt anything from him. When Spike was alive, everything inside of me was full, bursting… animated. Now it’s like I’ve gone blind and deaf, only I can still see and hear. How messed is that?"

"That is significantly… messed, Buffy, I admit. You understand why we’re concerned. If only we knew more about what happened to him, perhaps we could… well, not fix things, but at least give you a measure of closure. Enough to bring an end to your flashbacks."

"I couldn’t feel him after he died. I don’t know… she bit him and drained him, but would that kill an immortal?"

"You and Spike were possibly the most unique creatures on this world. With no precedent, it’s impossible to know for sure what would and would not harm you. It’s likely that Drusilla turned him, you realize."

She shuddered. "Yeah. I’m sure she did. You should’ve heard the way she spoke to him… like a mother and a lover at the same time. Freaky."

"What if he comes looking for you?"

"I expect him to. Do you think he’ll do what Angelus did? Hunt down the people who made him feel human? He could do that. Giles, I didn’t just make Spike feel human, I gave him the real, Technicolor deal. And do you know what the last thing he told me was, before the fight started?"

"No. You’ve never talked about that day in detail before."

She stopped walking suddenly and spun away from him. Her pulse raced as she began to hyperventilate. She leaned her arms against a tree trunk and buried her face in them, gulping in air. Distantly, she heard Giles’ soothing voice, telling her to take slow breaths, asking how he could help her. She inhaled deeply, the smell of the tree, her sweat, and her winter coat stinging her nose. Memories flashed behind her eyes, half-forgotten words coming back to her.

"Buffy?" Giles held her shoulders, the steady solidness of his grip bringing her back to the present. "Buffy, tell me how to help you. Please."

"I’m here," she whispered, closing her eyes, letting Giles hold her. "Sorry. The flashbacks… they’re… rough. But I’m back now. What was I telling you, before I went all schizoid?"

"You’re sure you’re all right? We can wait, let you rest, before we talk." He helped her back onto the trail. "Do you want to lie down? Or… or perhaps I could carry you back?"

She glared at him. "No one’s carrying me. I can walk… just keep an arm under me, will ya?"
 

"Of course," he said. He brushed a clutch of pine needles from her hair, then urged her forward. After testing her strength for a few steps, they assumed a regular pace. "You were telling me about your last moments with Spike. I’d like to hear about what happened… if you could."

"I could… I mean, I can." She leaned on his arm, signaling him to slow down as they neared the cabin. "We were outside the nest. Spike and I were going through the weapons, waiting for Conn to come back from scouting. The two of them had been sniping at each other for days, mostly due to Spike being Spike and therefore… Spike-like. I called him on it, told him to stop picking on the guy who was helping us, and then he said… well, it really doesn’t matter now, everything we said, all the words that hurt. Just one part… the worst part. He told me he loved me, but that he hated me for giving him my soul. For complicating his life with feelings that hurt him. For turning him into someone else."

Giles squeezed her shoulders. "Buffy… I’m sure he didn’t mean…"

"Of course he meant! He loved me, and he hated me. Trust me, Giles, I had the inside view on just how much he meant it. It hurt. A lot. Physically, and emotionally. Then Drusilla was there, and she was talking all loony-vamp to him. I didn’t understand much of what she said, but he did, he got every word. He made a deal with her, a deal for my life. And I still didn’t get it, not until the vamps picked me up- there were so many of them!- and when they were carrying me away, I finally understood. He hated me. His hatred led him to give up his life… the life I gave him! Just like his guide said."

"Ah. I see." Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "That makes sense, I suppose. But to what end? What purpose would there be in turning Spike back into a vampire?"

"That’s the question. That, and where is he now? It’s been a whole week, and… nothing. We left a wide enough trail coming up here to the island, he wouldn’t have any problem following us." She leaned her cheek against Giles’ shoulder as he helped her up the stairs of the cabin’s porch. Stopping him before he could open the door, she looked up into his face. "Why hasn’t he come for me?"

He touched her cheek, the look of anguish in her eyes breaking his heart. "He will, Buffy. Since the day you met, he’s thought of little else but you. I don’t know if you should find that comforting or frightening, but be assured that you can count on it. Spike will seek you out. Trust in that."

She closed her eyes. A tear slipped from beneath her eyelid, and she let it fall. "I’m gonna go in now. Willow’s worried, you said. She’ll feel better when she sees me. And I think I need to lie down." She opened the door to the cabin, then turned back to face him. "Be careful in the woods, okay? If he is out for the people who cared about him, Spike’ll be gunning for me more than anyone else, but you’ll be next on his list. This is… it’s just so…"

"Familiar? Yes. Well, don’t worry about me, not this time around. Spike is no Angelus. He never was. I’ll be fine. Just take care of yourself, Buffy. You’ve far too much strain as it is."

"Buffy?" Willow said, stepping into the doorway. She threw her arms around her friend. "Buffy, you’re here."’

Returning the hug, Buffy nodded. "I’m here. More or less… or less."

Willow pulled back slightly. "Is it true then? What Giles said?"

"Uh huh, probably. Unless he said I’m pregnant with Elvis’s baby, or something." She walked inside the cabin and into her small bedroom, Willow on her heels. "You can come in here, if you want. We can talk, but I have to lie down. I’m not totally better yet, from…"

Willow’s eyes widened. "Hey, it’s okay! Lie down. You could sleep if you want, or.. or read, I brought books!"

"Less books. More Willow," she said, snuggling against her pillow and smiling at her friend. Willow, she thought, good ole normal Willow. Comfy, sweet, easy to talk to Willow. She patted the mattress beside her. "Come and sit. Talk to me. Tell me what’s new in Sunnydale."

"Well," she said, setting in, "Xander’s the same. Anya’s the same. Tara’s the same… you and Spike, you were the same? I mean, not the same, but really the same? As in, person?"

Buffy sighed. "I don’t know. Kind of. What’s new with Dawn? Did you see her before you flew up here?"

"Dawn’s fine. She got a "A" on her math midterm. Your mom was all a-flutter about it. Do you think Spike’s a vampire again? A bad one? Or… would his chip still work?"

Grinding her teeth, Buffy began to realize that Willow was only interested in one thing. "I don’t know. He’s probably a vamp, but no one knows how that chip works. How’s Miss Kitty Fantastico? Did Tara get her to stay out of the magic weed yet?"

"What about the smoochies?" Willow raised her eyebrows. "Were they great? They must’ve been, since he was your soul guy. The right person for you. Or, maybe were they kind of weird, what with you guys having the whole ‘mortal enemies’ thing in your past."

The right person… She covered her face with her hands, shivering. Were they great? er body began to quake. The right person, person I love. I’d do it. Spill myself a few pints of God blood… She cried out as the flashbacks threatened to swallow her. I know you’ll never love me… I know that I’m a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that’s… "Giles!" she screamed, fighting her own mind. "Willow, get Giles, please!"

Before the words left Buffy’s lips, Giles burst through the door. He took one look at her and flew into action. "Willow, open the draw to the nightstand, you’ll find a bottle of pills. Give two to Buffy while I get her some water."

They helped Buffy take the medication, then sat beside her until it took effect. When she finally fell into a heavy sleep Giles gave a sigh of relief and ushered Willow out of the room.

Sitting on the couch in the main room of the cabin, Giles said, "What happened? You must’ve said something to her, something to trigger this episode."’

"I didn’t mean to," Willow said tearfully. "I didn’t know Spike was off the conversation platter. Giles, what’s wrong with her?"

"Buffy has gone, very rapidly, from having two people inside of her to being all alone. The crack to her psyche has caused her to experience these flashbacks. They’re extremely vivid, and they leave her too weak to function if we don’t act quickly to stop them. Hence, the sedative."

"But she can’t just stay drugged up forever. And she can’t live in a bubble- she’ll have to get used to talking about Spike, at least occasionally."

"She will improve, I’m sure, once she’s dealt with the trauma of loosing both Spike and their connection. Just give her some time to adjust."

"That’s good. She wouldn’t be able to avoid hearing about Spike. Back in Sunnydale, he’s all anyone’s talking about."
 

"Is that right," drawled a voice from the porch. Spike looked in through the open door. "I’m that popular, eh?"
 

Giles leapt to his feet. "Willow, go into Buffy’s room and stay there. Make sure she doesn’t wake up."

"What’s wrong, Rupert? Our girl not in tip-top shape? Let me see her. Maybe she just misses me."

"Don’t even think about coming in here, Spike. I know what you’ve been doing. Cavorting about with Drusilla. Buffy told me everything."

He smirked, idly fingering a cigarette. "No worries, Watcher. I can’t come in unless you invite me. You remember, it’s the whole vampire drill."

"Giles…" Willow said, hesitant to leave him alone.

"Willow, go. Whatever you do, keep Buffy asleep. Seeing Spike like this… after all she’s been through… it could be the last straw."

"What do you mean, last straw?" Buffy asked, opening the door to her bedroom. She walked into the main room, yawning. "We’re out of straws? And… we like straws for some reason?"

"Hello, pet," Spike said, watching her back as she raised her arms into the air in a stretch.

Buffy turned around slowly, her blood like ice in her veins. "S…Spike?" she said, hopeful despite the fact that her Slayer’s senses were screaming ‘vampire’ at her.

"It’s me," he said, vamping out. "All of me." He relaxed back into his human face and fished around the pockets of his duster. Pulled out a small, blue box, he said, "Brought you a present, love. Come and get it."

She started forward, moving as if under a trance. Giles grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off and passed him. "It’s okay."

She stood in front of the doorway, one inch and one invisible barrier between Spike’s face and her own, disorientated. She couldn’t feel him, which disturbed her, but there was still something between them, something that drew her into his eyes.

"It is okay, isn’t it Spike?" she said. Please

He stared at her, wordless, but she knew what was going through his mind. A test. With all she knew of him, would she trust him? Would she accept him as he was, not as she had made him?

"Come in, Spike," she whispered, licking at her lips. Nervous. But nervous was okay. She was still letting him in. Still reacting with her heart.

The corner of his mouth lifted into the smallest of smirks. "Presto," he said slowly, deliberately, as he walked forward. "No barrier."

She took two steps back, away from him, but held her hand out to him in welcome. Advancing on her with the long strides of a lion, he took her arms and pulled her hard against his chest. The movement was possessive. It was primal. It was not treacherous.

"No Giles," she said, hearing her Watcher start towards her. "He’s a vampire. But…"

"Are you on our side still?" Willow asked, her voice an innocent contrast to the dark passion that spun between Spike and Buffy.

Absorbed in returning Buffy’s gaze, Spike didn’t answer the witch. He lowered his face against Buffy’s, vamping out again at the last moment before contact.

Giles glowered at the vampire, but cautiously followed Buffy’s example and forced himself to stay composed. He took Willow by the arm and lead her out of the room.

Buffy nudged at Spike’s ridges with her own, flat forehead. She licked at his mouth with the tip of her tongue, urging him to open for her. With a small growl, he obeyed, allowing her to trace his fangs.

"You taste the same," she said, nipping at his chin. "Human or vampire, you taste exactly the same. How is that possible?"

"You taste like yourself, love," he said, rubbing his face in her hair. "You smell like yourself. Thank god. I was going crazy, having to… well, pet, aren’t you going to open your present?"
 

"Love… pet…" she repeated. "You still… are we still… do you still want me?"

He pulled her onto the couch and sat beside her. "Of course. I never didn’t want you. Don’t be stupid. It was all… I thought you realized! Well, here. Open you gift, and you’ll understand."

She opened the box. When she saw what lay inside, she threw herself into his lap. "You. You did this on purpose," she said, clutching the Gem of Amara securely. "You just had to find the most obnoxious, annoying way to save the day."

"Bloody hero, I am," he said, kissing her. "And a vampire. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get onto this sodding island without becoming a torch."

"And Drusilla?" Buffy asked a little nervously.

"Gone," Spike said, his face darkening slightly. "Back with Oehnos and his army. I gave her what she wanted- well, we made a trade."

"What did you trade for?"

"Your life," he said, stroking a hand over her hair. "The Gem. And her keeping Oehnos away from this dimension. All that for one little thing."

"Your life? That’s not a little thing." She carefully placed the Gem back into its box. "That’s a pretty damn big thing."

"I let her relive her favorite memory- turning me. I gave my life, okay, true. But what Dru didn’t know was that she was really doing the Powers That Be a favor."

"Huh? The Powers? No way could Drusilla be working for them."

He smirked at her. "Who would’ve thought I’d be their favorite plaything? Stranger things have happened."

"Why did the Powers want you to be a vampire again?"

"It’s all about the balance, pet. Your mate "Woman" – we really need to see if she has a name- came to me that last night we were in Sunnydale. She ran on and on about how there would always need to be a balance between the Eternal Slayers, blah blah blah. I didn’t think much of it till I heard Dru go on about her Master being out for my blood. Then it all made sense."

Buffy shook her head. "That still doesn’t make sense to me."

"You think your visions ever made a lick of sense when you talked about them? No, but they were true all the same, right? This was my path to find," he said, pulling her closer. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. "My path to find," he repeated, "and I think I’m at the end now."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Buffy relaxed against his chest. "Welcome home, Spike."