9. A different turn

Dawn and Willow exchanged a nervous glance as they approached the Summers’ kitchen, inside they could hear Buffy reorganising her date with the wedding caterers for the following Monday.

Stealing themselves they walked in just as Buffy hung up the phone. “Hi guys” she greeted perkily, “Aren’t you way early Wills?” she questioned as she busied herself clearing the remains of her sandwich “And I thought you had a date Dawnie?”

The awkward silence and furtive glances the girls shared where not lost on the Slayer. “What’s up guys?”

It was Dawn who, with a steadying breath, took up the responsibility. “Buffy, sit down. Willow… we, have to tell you something” As she spoke she guided her bemused sister to one of the high stools that stood at the breakfast bar.

“Willow saved a girl last night from a vamp attack” Dawn faltered, God she knew this was going to be hard, but, how in the hell was she supposed to actually say the words to her sister.

“And?” Buffy prompted “I’m guessing there’s more too it than that”

“Yeah” Willow agreed softly. “You see it wasn’t just any vamp, I knew him. It was…” It was Willows turn to fail under the weight of this information her eyes dropping to the tiled floor.

“It was? Come on guys you’re freaking me out, who was it?” Buffy’s impatience was evident in the tenor of her voice, but still neither girl found the courage to answer. Silence hung heavy and suffocating around the three of them. It was Buffy who shattered it with a nervous laugh, “come on guys. Spit it out, how bad can it be?”

“It was Spike” Dawn honestly didn’t know how she did it, how she forced those three doom laden words passed her lips. She held her breath and waited for the Slayers reaction.

“No” Buffy replied, simply, her voice unnaturally calm. She rose from her chair and continued tidying the kitchen.

Looking over at Willow, Dawn saw her own confused expression mirrored on the Wicca’s delicate features. “Buffy” Willow probed gently “Did you hear her? I saw Spike last night. Here. Hunting in your town”

Buffy didn’t break the rhythm of her work or spare the girls a glance as she replied, “I heard you. You’re wrong” That same unnerving calm coupled with all the dangerous certainty of denial.

Willow squared her shoulders and pressed on bravely “ I’m sorry Buffy. I know this is hard. But it was him. I couldn’t be mistaken about this. He even spoke to me. This is real Buffy and its dangerous, he doesn’t have a soul, and he’s out for blood”

When the Slayer refused to acknowledge her words the witch looked to the younger girl for assistance. Nodding almost imperceptibly Dawn took up the baton.

“Buffy.” She spoke softly, her voice sympathetic. “Willow’s right, we need to decide what to do about this. If Spike...”

Neither girl saw the slayer turn, neither saw her raise her hand to slam it down on the counter with preternatural speed and strength. Willow gave a startled yelp, and Dawn froze eyes wide, mouth forming a surprised o.

“You. Are. Wrong” Each word was both a denial and a command. Willow could feel the untempered power of the Slayer buzzing in the ether. Dawn saw it burning in her sisters hazel eyes.

The doorbell rang causing both girls to jump slightly. Buffy gave them a hard look, driving the point home. Then she straightened, shook her head slightly, as if clearing it and bounced over to the door, opening it with a cheery “Come on in. I have snacks”

Disbelief hung tangibly in the air between them. Dawn shook her head dejectedly looking at the counter top. Maybe Xander would be able to repair it. “I have to go Wills, I can’t be near her when she’s like this. I’ll call you in the morning we’ll have a rethink, ‘kay?”

“Okay Dawnie.” The shell-shocked redhead replied, as she watched the young brunette exit through the back door.
………….

Spike had been watching the house since sunset. He had watched the Slayer potter about doing mundane domestic tasks, nothing very interesting in terms of a spectator sport, and still he had watched her.

A dream had woken him just before, tangled, flashing, images of blond hair and honeyed skin. He had lain still, and tense in the twilight, tangled in cheap polyester sheets. He had clutched at the images, trying to decipher their meaning, but as with all things ethereal they were reticent and had fled. The unease, that had been his constant companion since he entered this god forsaken town, however refused to depart so easily. Even turning his mind to thoughts of Drusilla’s impending resurrection had not been able to banish it entirely.

His senses tingled. He felt her unmistakable power signature charging the night air with white magic. The scene played out before him, like one of those silent movies Dru had loved so much, a story told in worried frowns and nervous glances.

The sound of the Slayer destroying her kitchen furniture, reached his ears and he gave an amused chuckle “Taking the news well are we Slayer?” he asked the shadows around him.

That seemed to be an end to the discussion. Buffy retreated into another part of the house, follow shortly after by the witch, while the leggy brunette that had caught his eye earlier came out through the backdoor. Abandoning her usual poise she flopped gracelessly down onto the back step, burying her head in her hands. The action made her look like a coltish adolescent, almost gangly. A sense of familiarity hit him head on head on and he took and involuntary step back.

She was up again after a moment, walking slowly away down the empty street, he followed, keeping to the shadows, moving silently in the still night. This was better, this stalking of prey, this he knew. She led him off the main street, turning to cross a small deserted park

His lips curved into a cruel smirk, they just didn’t get any brighter did they. He quickened his pace, moving closer.

Dawn didn’t know what had possessed her to short cut through the park, just hadn’t been thinking straight she guesses. Buffy’s reaction had her stomach churning with vexed disquiet. Then she felt it, that distant yet still familiar feeling of being followed. For a moment she felt like she was in Sunnydale again, a frightened teenager in a town full of evil.

The sound of a snapping twig behind her had her wheeling round, heart pounding, eyes straining uselessly in the dark.

She didn’t even have time to squeal in surprise. Unnaturally strong arms held in a vice like grip, one hand holding something over her nose and mouth. She recognised the feeling, that brief moment of light-headedness as blackness overtook, chloroform.

……….

Willow was aware that she hadn’t contributed a single thing to the Scooby meeting in which she sat. She was aware that Giles and Xander where giving her increasingly worried looks. Angel had tried asking her opinion directly but she had merely shrugged and mumbled that she wasn’t sure. She was also painfully aware that Buffy had not asked her opinion, nor had looked at her for the entirety of the meeting.

Buffy was talking again, cheerfully lamenting their spectacular lack of progress. She was agreeing with Giles that Angel should travel to the hellmouth to support the Faith in organising the slayers gathered there. She was discussing the possibility of bringing the other slayer groups to North America. She had offered snacks and talked to Xander about his work with the council, but she had not said a single word about the resurrection of William the Bloody.

Buffy resolutely refused to meet Willow’s worried eyes. If she did she knew she would break, knew that the strength of will which fortified her would crumple, and she would break. If she looked at the redhead, she would see the truth in her, would not be able to deny that Willow would not lie, and could not be wrong, about this. And Buffy wanted to deny. Denial after all was Buffy Summers’ most cherished stalwart.

“So we’re agreed” Willow tried desperately to focus on the Watchers words. “Angel will travel to the hellmouth to assist Faith, in the meantime I will have the council to begin moving the Slayers to the agreed strategic locations.” He paused and looked at the Slayer. “You’re sure we would not be better employed to move all the Slayers to a single location?”

Buffy shook her head, blond hair bouncing around her determined face. “No they’d make to inviting a target. And we’re not even certain Marcus will move at the hellmouth. Plus according to you’re patterns of death and mayhem chart, all of these towns are on the main routes the demons are taking. Maybe the girls can take a few of them out before they even get to Marcus. “

With that the meeting was over, Angel said his goodbyes and left quickly, determined to make good distance before dawn. Giles left with him, returning to his motel to begin making the necessary arrangements.

That left the three friends, the original scoobies, sitting in awkward silence in the Slayers living room. Xander fingered the strap of his eye patch, a nervous habit he had developed since Sunydale “So” he began, leaning forward and clapping his hands together “You two gonna tell me what all this is about?”

………

Spike was half way drunk, he swayed violently as he made his way across the room towards the unconscious figure on the bed, no make that Spike was very drunk indeed. And why the hell wouldn’t this girl wake up already. He dropped to his knees beside the bed and studied her relaxed face. She was beautiful really, not in the same way that Buffy was beautiful, not so fiery and fierce, more refined. Wait stop, did he just call the Slayer Buffy? Did he just call the Slayer beautiful? Ok he was so far past drunk now it was getting worrying.

She murmured softly in her sleep bringing his unfocused attention back to her face, unbidden his hand reached out and tenderly brushed some stray strands of hair from her face, his fingertips lingering on her warm skin. “Shit” he slurred softly retracting his hand quickly, too quickly in fact, the violent action upset his already suspect balance and he fell back heavily on his backside, glaring accusingly at his treacherous hand.

Anger and confusion surged through his inebriated mind. He rose quickly grabbing the girl roughly, pulling her up so that she was half sitting on the bed. He shook her one handed, bringing the other down in a hard slap across her pretty face. “Wake up!” he demanded angrily.

Dawn felt consciousness returning, her face stung painfully and her teeth rattled as she was shaken again. She opened her eyes, blue met blue, and everything stilled. It was him, she had believed Willow of course, but knowing and seeing are worlds apart, and it was really him. She couldn’t look away his eyes where so blue, bluer even than she remembered. Recognition flashed briefly in his eyes, before shocked confusion took its place.

“Spike” she breathed his name so softly human ears would have struggled to determine the sound even at this close range. She was pressed against him and he was here and he was real and solid and, drunk? Boy did he reek, whisky and cigarette smoke. The smell would have repulsed her in any other situation, but it was all so totally Spike that she found herself inhaling it deeply.

Spike felt the world tilt uncontrollably as she met his gaze. Her eyes, which should have be full of fear and tears, shone with wonder and affection? He heard her breath his name in an awe filled whisper before she breathed deeply through her nose, eyes falling half shut. Shit, was she sniffing him? He pushed her back down on to the bed and stumbled back reaching a hand out to steady himself against the wall.

He watched her horrified, gasping for airs his lungs seemed to forget he didn’t need. “Spike?” she questioned softly pushing herself up into a sitting position “Spike are you okay?”

He growled, disorientated and confused, strange sensations overwhelmed him, at the sound of her concern. Anger surged through is veins, taking the edge of his drunkenness, and then he was on her pinning her beneath him. Her arms and legs trapped painfully beneath his weight.

“Who the hell are you?” he growled, his eyes flashing golden with the force of his rage. “What the bloody hell is going on here?”

He had her trapped, his feral eyes flashing with contempt, and he didn’t recognise her as his friend, and yet she could not summon any fear. He was after all Spike and his role as protector was ingrained deeply in her consciousness. She was Dawn and he was still Spike, and Spike did not hurt Dawn, it was a simple fundamental truth of her world.

“Spike it’s me, Dawn” her voice was calm and reasoning and it served to fuel his anger. How dare she presume to be unafraid? Even now, here, when the intoxication scent of terror should have been rolling off her in waves she was calm, how dare she?

“Sorry love don’t know any Dawn” He sneered at her his voice dripping malice. “But I do know that you’re all matey with the Slayer, which… well lets just say that ain’t gonna work out too well for you”

Clasping both of her hands in one of his, he let his eyes run lavishly over her breasts. “You see me and little Buffy we got ourselves a bit of history. Now she hurt someone real special to me, and now I’m returning the favour. ‘s nothing personal luv” He leered at her, and bring his free hand up with preternatural speed ripped her cotton blouse clean from her body.

He growled in satisfaction as her body screamed out in fear. She fought him now struggling futilely to free herself, body writhing enticingly against his.

“Please Spike, please Spike it’s me Dawn. Please stop! Oh God Spike please stop, stop” he laughed at her pleas and moved his hand down to push up the hem of her silk skirt.

10. A kind of knowing
 

Willow jumped visibly at Xander’s question, while the Slayer just looked down, avoiding her friends questioning gaze.

“Come on guys” Xander pressed, his voice soft and laden with understanding “It’s not natural seeing you two at fighting, unless of course Willow’s trying to end the world. You’re not trying to end the world are you Wills?”

No answer, but at least the two had glanced at each other all be it a wary look. “Guys?” he prompted again, voice beginning to betray irritation.

The shrill ring of the phone shattered pierced the heavy atmosphere like a scream, causing all three to flinch. Buffy regarded the phone with a suspicious look for several moments before Willow found her voice “Are you gonna get that?” she asked timidly.

Willow watched the one sided conversation with increasing alarm, she managed to glean that it was Jake, calling for Dawn, Dawn who they all assumed had spent the evening at the movies with Jake.

“Okay Jake, I’ll let her know you called, bye” Buffy finished, her voice devoid of emotion as she hung up.

She looked up at the pair, eyes laden with guilt “Dawn’s missing” she informed them unnecessarily. Her eyes met Willow’s, luminous and brimming with tears. “It must be…”

“Spike” the redhead supplied, when her friend trailed off. “He must have her, it’s just too big a coincidence”

“Spike, what? Are you serious?” neither girl acknowledged Xander’s bemused questioning.

“Can you find her, a spell?” Buffy solemnly asked the witch, who nodded confirmation. “Do it.”

……

Dawn had not been this scared since she had stood on Glory’s tower and watched Spike fail to save her from Doc’s blade. The same Spike who had worn such a heartfelt expression of regret as he had fallen from the tower. The same Spike whose unnaturally strong hands where now leaving bruises on her thighs as he pushed her legs apart. She had exhausted herself with fruitless struggles and could now do nothing more than lie there beneath him and weep.

She cried with fear for herself, she cried for Buffy who had been through the same, and despite the horror of the situation she cried for Spike, for her friend, for the trust they had once shared, about to be lost forever.

Spike lifted his head from where he was drunkenly tasting the salty skin of her collarbone and looked into her tear filled eyes. She was so utterly desperate, so completely afraid, he would rip the heart out of whatever had put that devastated look on her face, he’d tear their head off and…

He stopped his inner rant. That would be him of course. “Sort it out mate” he growled audibly and reached down the free himself from the confines of his jeans, startled to find his body was not exactly a willing accomplice to this defilement.

Dawn heard his zipper and began to fight him again in earnest, muttered pleas tumbling unbidden from her lips.

He looked up again at her face, dark hair lightened to gold in his minds eye, honeyed skin and green eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. A different voice filled his ears “Spike. Please Stop, I’m hurt”

Dawn felt him retract from her as if she where covered in holy water, she opened her eyes to see him scrambling back to huddle against the far wall, head buried in his hands, mindless words of regret and apology tumbling from his lips.

He lifted his head fixing her with tear filled eyes, wide, guilty and confused, and then she heard it, one word breathed so softly she could have missed it. One uncertain word that had her crawling across the ratty motel carpet towards him “Nibblet”

She pulled his shaking body to her own. His head pillowed against her breasts in an almost maternal embrace, shushing him gently as he babbled out his regret, the promise to never hurt her again repeated like a mantra against her skin. She rocked him gently letting the forgiveness that in Buffy she had refused to understand pour out of her and wrap around him like a warm blanket.

“It’s okay, Spike, it’s okay. Hush, it’s okay, I got you” her voice was soothing and gentle, her hand stroking his hair.

“Nibblet, little bit, I’m sorry. God I’m so sorry. Never hurt you. Never hurt you again. I’m sorry, so sorry” his words where muffled against her chest and his hand clutched desperately at her slim shoulders. “Forgive me, please, I’m so sorry”

She held him like that, until alcohol and emotional exhaustion finally claimed him. She followed him quickly in to sleep, propped awkwardly against the cold wall.

…………

“Shouldn’t we call Giles?” Willow questioned the Slayer as she and Xander hurried to keep up with her brisk pace.

“No time.” Buffy answered shortly, her face set in a mask of grim determination as she strode towards the car.

They sped towards the outskirts of town, where the Barret Motel stood in all its seedy neon glory.

…….

His eyes cracked open and he found himself in a warm, comforting embrace, the night’s events coming back to him slowly. He extracted himself gently from the girls embrace and stood, scooping her up effortlessly as he went. She shifted against him and he stilled, not wanting to wake her.

Two smooth steps had them alongside the bed, where he laid her body gently down on top of the covers, pulling her tattered blouse closed as best he could. He sat down beside her and studied her sleeping face, so pretty and vulnerable, his Nibblet.

She was his. He knew that. Knew that somehow she was his responsibility, his to protect and cherish. He touched her face gently, Dawn, she had called herself Dawn. The name meant nothing to him, but she did. From what place or time he couldn’t say, he had no memory of her, nothing for his mind to grasp on to but the certain knowledge that she was his.

A screeching of tyres on gravel announced the arrival of the Slayer and her merry band of do gooders. He moved to the window twitching the curtain to get a look at her, God but the she was magnificent, hair catching in the breeze, her feet planted firmly apart as she surveyed the motel car park. The witch pointed in his direction and he withdrew deeper into the room, listening to their footsteps crunching on the gravel outside.

With a loud crash the Slayer made her entrance, the door flying inward as her booted foot ripped it from its hinges. Her eyes went first to the girl on the bed, taking in her dishevelled appearance and tearstained face. When her eyes found him they blazed with righteous fury.

She was on him quick as lightning, one frighteningly powerful kick sending him crashing backwards, his body leaving an imprint in the plaster of the wall. “Spike!” she hissed his name, venom and horror mixing in her voice.

He gave her a sardonic smile as he climbed almost casually to his feet. The dance was finally about to begin. “’Ello Slayer” he drawled, “How’ve you bin? Life been all blood and peaches since you left me to burn?”

“Don’t” was that a command or a plea? He wasn’t sure. “Just don’t!” definitely, inexplicably, a plea.

“What’s the matter Slayer? You look like you’ve seen a ghost” He tucked a thumb through his belt loop and grinned at her. “Guess you weren’t expecting the big bad to pull a bloody phoenix on ye hey?”

“Why Spike?” she was looking at him with huge luminous eyes, full of hurt and betrayal. He frowned, betrayal? As if this wasn’t entirely expected of him.

“Why?” he asked her incredulously “You leave me to burn and you ask why?” he scoffed at her “Just supposed to forget that am I, all is Bloody forgiven.”

He had moved closer while he spoke, although she didn’t seem aware of it, perfect, striking distance. His fist shot out connecting mercilessly with the side of her face, sending her stumbling to his left. He took the opening and barrelled through the closed window, landing on the gravel outside in a graceful roll.

He ran across the courtyard, his blood singing with excitement at the sound of her pursuing footsteps. He turned to face her, God but she was amazing, face flushed, adrenalin pumping though her body, making it buzz with power.

He titled his head to the side, regarding her with a knowing smirk. “This is gonna be a kick”

To Buffy the moves of their dance where so familiar she hardly needed to think at all about it. Punch, duck, spin kick, repeat as required. Instead her mind wandered, to Dawn, motionless, but still breathing despite her torn clothes and tear stained face, on his bed. He hadn’t killed her maybe… No she could not afford to hope. It was hope that had stayed her hand with Angelus, and people had died for it, she would not hope again.

And yet the words came. “Spike, please, stop this. We both did what we had to. You know I never would have…” A fierce round house to the side of her head cut her off and sent her to her knees.

He was on her in a flash. Kneeling behind her, holding her flush against his body, her arms pinned uselessly to her sides. “Oh yes, Slayer” he hissed in her ear, so close that despite herself Buffy felt that oh so familiar fission of desire ripple through her body. “We did what we had to. Had to save your precious Angel didn’t ya?”

Her brow furrowed, save Angel, what was he talking about? Was he angry because she had chosen him to wear the amulet rather than Angel? She tried again to reason with him “You know why I chose you over Angel” she told him firmly, “it was our fight not Angel’s”

“Bollocks!” he countered vehemently, “it wasn’t about you, or Angel, it was about her, about saving her. And now she’s gone, because of you” He brought his head down towards her throat, his lips moving over the skin as he spoke. “But we can fix that now, all I gotta do is kill you and I can get me my Dru back in the land of the un-living.”

A lightning fast twist of her body, combined with a backward thrust of her head and she was free. Turning on him again eyes flashing with rage and jealousy “Dru!” she almost screamed the name “Dru! After everything… It’s still about Dru?”

He frowned, the poor bird was clearly as crazy as the lady in question, wasn’t everything about Dru? Another round of vicious kicks and punches saw Spike at a disadvantage, trapped between the Slayer and the wall of the motel, her stake poised for the kill.

She hesitated, he almost crowed with satisfaction at the sight. That split second that could win or lose a fight, and she hesitated. Ever the opportunist Spike reacted, one hand snaking out to grab her wrist, while he moved in close to throw her over his hip. She landed heavily on her back, breath exiting her body with an audible whoosh.

She didn’t struggle when he descended on her, body covering hers fangs travelling towards her exposed throat. She felt a strange wave of numbness grip her body. He was going to kill her, somehow it seemed fitting that she would be his, one way or another he had always possessed her, and how he would make her his third.

Sighing her acceptance she let her head fall to the side giving him better access to her jugular.

He recognised the stilling of her body, the strange calm that pervaded her being. Her resigned sigh confirmed his suspicion. There it was at last, the slayer death wish, finally catching up with her. His fangs pierced the soft skin of her throat with and almost reverent care, a clean wound over an old unnoticed scar.

Her blood was like fire, powerful, potent and intoxicating. His mouth burned with the taste and his body sang out in ecstasy. Slayer blood, the best of the best.

Then they came, with every gentle sip of her life’s blood he saw them, images and words, flashing across the screen of his mind. Scenes he had never witnessed playing out behind his eyes.

He saw the Slayer at the tip of Angelus’ sword. Saw her fighting vampires alongside him in a magic shop. Faster and faster the pictures, came, half formed and confused, she was laughing in one scene, in another she was scared, eyes filled with tears. He saw her body lying still on a pile of rubble and knew she was dead. He saw her throwing punch, sleeping, walking, issuing commands.

He pulled away from her throat and locked his eyes with hers “Buffy?” he questioned, searching her face for answers “What’s happening to me?”

11. A segment of truth
 

Buffy's eyes opened almost lazily to meet his, only he could say her name like that, drawing out the syllables to make her silly frivolous name sound like and evocation. It took her a moment to register that he had asked her a question, she didn't have the answers, how could she? But she would try to find them for him, because no one else could say her name like that.

"Spike?" her own question, a single word to ask so much. Her hand came free of his now gentle grip and reached out to trace the line of his jaw. He closed his eyes, leaning in to her tender touch.

"Bloody hell!" he was off her and had taken three steps back before she realised he had moved. "What the hell have you done to me? Is your witch, screwing with my head?" he was pacing angrily, glaring at her accusingly

"No Spike, we didn't do anything, I swear" her voice was calm and reasoning, hands face down in front of her in a steadying gesture. "I didn't..." her voice broke with evident emotion "I didn't even know you where back" she finished softly eyes averted almost shyly.

"Buffy" Willow's voice drew both their attention to the small group approaching them. Willow scurrying ahead, concern etched deeply on her pale brow. Xander followed more slowly, arm wrapped protectively around a shivering Dawn, drowned in his oversized jacket.

"Fantastic, enter the super friends" Spike's sarcastic tone bit into the night air. His pose was casual now, thumbs tucked in his belt, hands splayed out over the buckle, the very image of indifferent calm.

"Dawnie, are you okay?" Buffy turned her back on the vampire to examine her sister "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." The brunette answered as she stepped forward to embrace the shorter girl, careful to keep the tell tale bruises on her wrist hidden beneath the jackets long sleeves. She caught Spike's eye over the Slayer's head, understanding passing between the two. An unspoken pact of silence.

Spike watched the girls embrace with tangible affection, the hug somehow more intimate even than a lovers touch. A strangely familiar scene. Curiosity may have been the downfall of the cat, Spike was certain that one day it would also be his undoing. Before he could stop himself the question was disturbing the stillness of the night.

"Who are you?" he asked, his head tilted to the side eyes locking with the brunettes.

To Spike it had seemed a reasonable question, to ask a familiar stranger who they were. Completely natural, right? Wrong, if the looks on the faces of the Slayer and her little gang where anything to go by. Gaped. That was a good word for it, like today's catch on a fishmongers slab.

"What?"
…………..

The Slayers where horribly outnumbered and taking heavy losses. Vi beheaded a vampire and turned to call the retreat. "Back!" She shouted, her once shy voice ringing out strongly over the din of battle. "Fall back!"

The retreat was swift and well organised, but still they lost girls on the way. Trex demons sprayed their paralysing venom onto the Slayers while flying bedrog demons swooped down to slash the immobilised girls with razor sharp talons.

A group of vampires where attempting to flank the on the right. Barking orders at her lieutenants she wheeled the group left and headed for the sanctuary of Rushden House, with its battle ready walls and protective wards.

She wasn't counting the fallen. There would be time for tears later when the survivors filed their devastating reports with the Watchers back at Rushden. Now her mind was focused on the desperate fight for survival, on bringing as many girls back to safety as possible.

………..

"You don't know her?" the witch's bemused question, served to irritate the vampire.

"Wouldn't be bloody asking if I did now, would I?" his tone implied that he considered her to be among the stupidest people in the world. "And would ye all stop gawking at me like that. Enough to make a fella nauseous, looking down your gullets"

"Ok" It was Xander who spoke, raising one hand "Who else is getting a good old fashion Sunnydale wiggins?"

The group nodded in agreement, all eyes still riveted to the vampire. It was Dawn who finally formed an answer, prompted by the impatient raising of his scarred eyebrow. "Dawn. I'm Dawn" a note hurt in her quiet voice

"Got that already, luv." He answered, his voice indescribably gentle. "Doesn't ring a bell is all"

"Dawn" she insisted as if repetition would somehow break through his ignorance. "Buffy's sister"

He titled his head back slightly and regarded the group suspiciously before speaking. "Slayer didn't have no sister last time me and her had a rumble" he glanced over at the unusually quite blond. "What is she then? Some kinda long lost?"

Finally Buffy managed to pull together enough brainpower to form actual words. "You don't remember her?" she asked rhetorically "What do you remember?"

……..

Giles resigned himself to leaving a message on the Buffy's machine. "Buffy, it's me Giles. Please call me as soon as you get this message. The council… I have news from… Buffy call me, we have a problem."

He hung up the phone carefully and moved to sit on the motel bed, thanking God that he had decided to splash out on one of the towns more expensive motel, one that supplied a mini-bar.

Knocking back a straight scotch, he let out a worried breath. The latest attack had been one of the most devastatingly well organised. It was only luck that it had been Vi leading the patrol when it was attacked, only a battle hardened Slayer could have brought the group back with so few losses.

So few losses? Twenty-seven girls dead, another nine badly injured. But given the circumstances it was quite and achievement. The hundred strong patrol had been engaged by nearly three times their number, demons of five different species. A well planned and perfectly executed attack launched just days before the European slayer division was due to depart for the Americas.

It left the watcher with a quandary, bring the group to America as planned, and leave a battalion of demons unchecked in England, or leave the girls at Rushden and weaken whatever army they could assemble for the inevitable showdown with Marcus.

Where in God's name was Buffy?
…………..

They where lying, they had to be. But if they where lying then they surely would have been able to concoct something a little less far fetched. He wasn't entirely clear on all the elements of the story, but the basic gist seemed to be that he had not died in the church as Marcus had said, but rather he had died years later during the destruction of Sunnydale.

He had a strong suspicion that they where keeping details of the story from him, they had told him that a government implanted chip had stopped him from harming humans and driven him into the Slayers circle. But that did not explain why he had actively offered them his help, or why he had taken a teenage girl into his sworn protection.

His forming a pact with the Slayer to spite his grandsire was one of the story's more believable elements. While the claim that he had fought side by side with for years was beyond ridiculous.

"You expect me to believe this load of old bollocks?" he asked the group when they paused in their confusing and disjointed tale, the clarity of which was in no way aided by them constantly interrupting and correcting one another.

He saw a flash of annoyed impatience cross the Slayers face and somehow it added to their pitiful credibility.

"It's the truth Spike" his Nibblet was speaking to his right, drawing his attention reluctantly away from the Slayer. She flashed him a smirk that he couldn't help but recognise as akin to his own "Could we make this stuff up?"

He gave a short bark of laughter and reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, amazed that after what had happened earlier that night, she didn't flinch at the contact, rather she leaned imperceptibly into the touch and gave him a lazy smile.

"Well if that's the truth of it, which I gather from the conspicuous lack of staking, it is. Then the question before the court is, what the hell is the wanker who brought me back up to?"

Okay this was better, Buffy thought, something positive to focus on, something slayery. She could do this, so much easier than trying to explain five complicated years of love and hate, while not actually coming clean on any of the love. Way too soon to drop that in to the conversation. What would she say anyway "Oh Spike, don't you remember you're supposed to be in love with me. That's pretty much why you endured, abuse torture, humiliation and eventual death" yeah right.

"What do you know about him? The guy that brought you back I mean" she asked. His face turned pensive and he held her eyes with his. Oh shit, she thought, oh shit, he's looking at me, he's gonna know everything, he always knows everything.

When he spoke she was almost shocked to hear him keeping on topic. "Not much, I was out of there pretty quick. Vampire, couple of strange demon types working for him, powerful warlock on the payroll, goes by the name of Marcus."

12. A lack of answers

"No bloody way!" Spikes blatant disobedience, shocked her. Buffy sighed trying hard to remember that the man standing before was not her Spike, not the willing slave he had once professed himself to be.

"I know you don't like the thought of working with us" she explained patiently "but, whether you like it or not we have a common enemy." She paused, he may not know her, but she certainly knew him, time for the big guns. "Unless" she continued her tone convincingly guileless "you're okay with being played"

Bulls-eye, she watched him prickle with the insinuation. "Right then. All back to Slayer central for the big powwow, get the watcher on the case and all"

Willow had taken the front seat on the way back, leaving the sisters crammed in the back with Spike. He could feel the younger girls warmth through their clothing as she pressed up against him, again he marvelled at her willingness to be so close to her would be rapist. He felt a strange comfort in her presence, oddly the stranger was the one thing in this ludicrous situation that made sense in his altered mind.

He glanced at the Slayer in time to see her drop her eyes self-consciously. The looks she had been giving him all night where very disconcerting, unreadable and intense. Bitch must be up to something he concluded bitterly.

……

Giles drove at a steady pace towards the Slayers house, keeping his eyes open for patrol cars, he had just enough whiskey in his blood to land himself in trouble should he be stopped. Ordinarily he would never consider driving, but three long hours of unsuccessfully trying to call Buffy and her friends had driven him to take the risk.

He arrived in time to find Xander locking up his car on Buffy's drive.

"Xander" he called out as he got out of his own, hastily parked car. "What's going on? I couldn't raise a single one of you on the phone"

Xander looked for a moment as if he was about to launch into an explanation, before he seemed to reconsider, giving a slow shake of his head. "You better come in, this has gotta be seen to be believed" with that he was walking purposefully towards the frond door, leaving Giles to scurry after him.

"I can't reach Giles at his room" Giles heard Willows voice as he made his way towards the living room.

"No problem" Xander entered the room ahead of him "I found him right outside your very own front door"
As he entered the room the watcher took a moment to absorb the oddly nostalgic scene. Willow worried and skittish stood to his left as he walked in, hands wringing with nervous tension. Buffy was directly in his line of sight standing arms crossed in front of the mantelpiece, every inch of her proclaiming Slayer in charge. To his right he could see a slightly pale Dawn, looking vulnerable and younger than she had for many years in Xander's oversized coat. Beside her lounged Spike, one arm thrown over the couch behind her, his pose half protective, half sprawling indifference. The scene was so reminiscent of Sunnydale that Giles wondered seriously if he had been transported back… Wait a minute Spike?

Turning slowly to face the vampire, indisputably recognisable despite his altered appearance, Giles was fully aware that he was gaping but completely unable to rectify the situation. "Spike?" from the annoyed roll of the vampires eyes Giles assumed that disbelieving recognition was beginning to wear on Spike notoriously short temper.

He turned to Buffy expression requesting an explanation. Her confused shrug left him massaging the bridge of his nose, ineffectually trying to reduce the pounding he could feel building behind his eyes.
……….

"So" Giles tried again to paraphrase the situation in an attempt to wrap his reluctant mind around the facts. "Marcus raised Spike from the dead and sent him here believing you killed Drusilla and himself during the Dulac ritual"

At the Slayers encouraging nod he pressed on "Spike came here to kill you in order that Marcus reincarnate Drusilla, and kidnapped Dawn, of whom he has no memory of at all, in spite of the fact that in our memories Spike had contact with Dawn during his attack on the school on parent teacher night."

"That's right!" the vampire drawled his tone conveying bored impatience "Didn't see her then, don't remember a thing about her now." He ran a hand through his tawny hair "Picked her up in the park, just a nummy treat and a message for the Slayer, if you know what I mean"

Giles studied him for a moment, despite the chilling inference of his words his body language was familiarly protective as he sat with the girl. "And yet you didn't kill her?"

Spike stiffened visibly and tilted his head back to regard the watcher through narrowed eyes. "No" he drew out the syllable, his tone defensive "Got curious is all, she knew me and I wanted to know how"

Dawn gave him and incredulous frown before turning to the group "He called me Nibblet" she stated as if that in itself was proof of his good intention.

Giles' eyed the vampire curiously, causing him to prickle uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "I thought you didn't remember her"
"I don't!" The vampire shouted exasperated before sighing and relenting, he touched dawns glossy hair "Just seemed to fit is all, that and not wanting to hurt her, not when it came to it. Now this bunch of complete losers have given me their frankly not terribly believable version of events and I'm bored. What say I leave you lot to thrash it out and you can fill me in another time"

Buffy watched him plant a kiss on the top of her sister's head before standing to leave, the gesture should have been incongruous given the circumstances, but the ease with which it was given and receive made it seem the most natural thing in the world. He didn't even glance at her as he made his way to the door and she felt a bitter pang of hurt. He was leaving, what if he didn't come back, and he was pretty pissed off, just like him to do something pigheaded, like disappear without a trace. Panic gripped her, he couldn't leave, he had to stay. She had to make him stay.

"Be back here tomorrow at midnight" she ordered causing him to stop in the doorway, his back to her. He looked at her over his shoulder, unruly curls covering one eye, causing her to fidget under his gaze. "And if I find you've killed anyone, I will hunt you down and stake you" Buffy was amazed at how authoritative she sounded, she was also aware of how comfortably familiar it was to threaten Spike, had she really done it that often. He narrowed his eyes and for a moment she was so certain he would defy her that his nod of ascent left her speechless as he disappeared from the room.

No one spoke till several moments after they heard the door slam shut. Then the damn broke and several voice competed at once for her attention, Willows worried "Are you ok?" virtually drowned out by Xander's exclamation of disbelief and Giles pragmatic demand for further explanation.

It was Dawn who rescued her. "Guys!" she called them to order with graceful authority "I think we should get to this tomorrow evening. Let Buffy get some rest now ok?"

……………..

"Can't sleep?" the question startled Buffy from her musings, where she sat in her pyjamas at the damaged kitchen counter. She gave her sister a tired smile and got up to make another cup of coco for the younger girl.

Dawn watched her in silence while she worked, before joining her on the high stools to drink. "You wanna talk about it?" she questioned gently when the Slayer seemed to be drifting off again into her own world.

"I'm fine" Buffy answered, her well-honed defences rising, like emotional battlements around her. She glanced at her sister's patient yet disbelieving expression and sighed. "It's a lot to take in you know?"

"Tell me about it" Dawn huffed good naturedly "It wasn't you he tried to… umm tried to kill" if the Slayer noticed Dawn's awkward cover she let it slip, mind focusing inward on her own pain.

"He's back," she continued, as if Dawn had never spoken. "He's back and he doesn't know me. He wants me dead, he hates me." She looked to her sister for understanding before continuing in a small voice "He hates me"

"No" Dawn tried to reassure her. "He just doesn't remember is all, we'll fix it, and he'll remember." She gave her sister a small smile of comfort "He just doesn't remember Buffy"

"He remembers you" the Slayer countered quickly, jealousy making her voice harsh.

13. A suspicion of more

A/N Warning, hints of incest and child abuse, nothing graphic but just thought I'd warn you.

"Failed" the vampire's exclamation startled Marcus, opening his eyes he saw Beatrice standing at the end of the bed her eyes glassy and unfocused. He pushed the teenage vampire who was eagerly deep throating him off roughly causing her to fall to the floor with a surprised whimper.

"What is it my love?" he cooed as he approached the dark vampire, slowly hand outstretched as if he feared she would bolt like a timid animal. "What do you see my sweet?"

She swayed for a moment muttering incoherently, her eyes closed. When she opened them to meet his they where clear, and cold. "Your plan has failed brother" she informed him haughtily "Spike has not killed her. I see a girl, beloved of the slayer, his heart softens for her."

"What?" he asked, his voice as dark as his expression "Tell me what you see?"

"His heart remembers, though his mind forgets. He is lost to our cause" She shrugged negligently and went to move away.

Grabbing her roughly by the arm, Marcus pulled the slim woman flush against his body. "Sister" he crooned, his lips brushing her ear "you told me he would make her cry end her life" he paused to nuzzle her neck. "You are never wrong"

She moaned softly placing her hands on the back of his head to encourage him in his ministrations. "And cry she does, but the brittle shell of her life still holds, for now"

"So she will die?" Marcus asked pulling away to look into her dark eyes. Eyes that had once again taken on the gleam of madness, there would be no more answers tonight. Still the spark of lust that greeted him in their ebony depths told him the night would not be completely wasted.

"Out!" the barked order had the younger vampire scurrying for the door with a muttered "Yes Sire!"

"Come my sweet," he whispered in her ear as he led her towards his bed, his hands moving to undo the laces of her old fashioned bodice. Already he felt both weak and powerful with his need for her.

Despite his fetish for girls on the cusp of adulthood no woman had ever affected him like she did. He remembered how as a boy he had waited in his room for her to come to him, how she would strip, slowly removing the heavy layers of her night clothes, before joining him in his bed whispering that he must be very quiet.

It had been their secret, his, and his bright and beautiful elder sister, who was so admired by all the eligible gentlemen who came to visit. She enchanted all who came, with her coy smiles and naive glances, but when their backs where turned the looks she would give him where anything but innocent, wicked and filled with erotic promise.

They where naked now, moving together on his silk sheets in perfect rhythm. She was above him, as she always was, pale skin and raven hair, a contrast so beautiful it was all he could do to lay beneath her and worship.

……..

Dawn woke to the delicious smell of pancakes and fresh coffee, rubbing the sleep from her eyes she went downstairs, pulling her robe shut as she entered the kitchen.

"Dawn" her sisters bubbly voice felt like bright light shining in her eyes, she winced "We where just wondering whether or not to wake you. You wanna come help pick the cake?"

We? Cake? It took Dawn a few moment to realise that Richard was sitting at the kitchen counter smiling pleasantly at her, his friendly open face filled with delight at her sisters fine mood.

"What?" Dawn asked disbelieving "Your going cake shopping? Don't you have that thing to do today?"

"No" Buffy's tone was light but the look she gave the younger girl over her fiancé's head was filled with warning. "No thing. I'm 'free all day' Buffy"

She moved forward and wrapped her arms around Richards's broad shoulders, her cheek pressing against his. "So you wanna come?" he asked seemingly oblivious to Dawns incredulity.

"No thanks" she answers her tone neutral, her eyes meeting her sisters evenly, accusation barely hidden beneath the feigned normalcy "I have lots to do, important research"

Richard nodded his understanding "So, how is college, you still acing all your classes?" His favourite topic of conversation with Dawn, Her impressive academic achievements.

Buffy gave her an encouraging look, asking her silently to play along, giving a defeated shake of her head she sat down to eat pancakes and talk career options with her sisters fiancé.

………

Spike lay awake on his motel bed, the mid morning light sneaking through the drawn curtains to cast bright patterns on the ceiling.

He was thinking about Dru, according to the Slayer and her bunch of misfits Drusilla had emerged for the church fire fully restored. Years later she had disappeared, as had the majority of demons, laying low, relying on stealth and cunning to escape the multitude of slayers that now stalked the night.

If he left now, he could find her, might take him years, but he would find her eventually. Maybe at sunset he'd just go, bugger the Slayer and her gang, and bugger Marcus, manipulative bastard. Just go, find her, wherever she was and get on with his un-life

He sighed rubbing his forehead, no, best stay, find out what's going on. Could still kill the Slayer at a later date, that'd be fun, or not, Dawn wouldn't like it. He growled, getting up to pull a bag of A positive, which he had liberated from the local hospital the night before, from the small motel fridge.

What the hell was wrong with him, thinking not to kill a slayer to spare a child's feelings? He looked at the bagged blood with disdain, bagging it on a Slayers instruction. William the Bloody Pathetic. He finished the blood in a single gulp and flopped back down on the bed determined to get a good days sleep.

……………..

"Good afternoon Dawn" Giles greeted as she let him and Xander into the house. "I hope Buffy is ready, we have an awful lot to discuss before Spike's arrival at midnight, if indeed he decides to grace us with his presence"

"I'm sure he'll be here" she answered, "its Buffy I'm not sure about"

"Huh?" Xander's articulate question drew the girl's attentions.

"She's not here" she explained, exasperation clear in her tone "She went out early this morning with Richard to choose a cake and hasn't been seen since"

"Choose a cake!" the older mans voice rose with aggravation "We stand on the brink of war, with a coalition of demons who no doubt outnumber us four to one. We know nothing about their plans or their leader. Spike has been resurrected and sent to kill her and she is shopping for cake."

"Hey don't shoot he messenger" Dawn raised her hands defensively. "This morning she was making pancakes and acting like everything was normal, I don't understand it either. I've been trying to call her on her cell all day but it's off"

"Quite, I'm sorry Dawn, it's just…" he trailed off, removing his glasses and pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

"I'll go look for her" Xander offered, Dawn gave him a grateful smile, thank God for good old reliable Xander.
"Yes, er, thank you Xander that would be most helpful" Giles affirmed, polishing his glasses with slow deliberate turns of his thumb "In the mean time perhaps Dawn and I could begin looking into shaman with the kind of power needed to do something like this" he looked at Dawn "Will Willow be joining us?"

"Yeah, she'll be here any minute. I've got a few volumes of 'Histories of the Dark Arts' in my own collection and I think Willow planned to bring over some more texts"

"Splendid, your collection has been proving most useful, I have only been able to bring a few books myself, but I think they may be of use"

…………

Buffy's tinkling laughter rang out across the deserted park as Richard pushed the swing even more energetically. She used her body weight to help push the swing higher and higher until Richard had to step aside and just watch her. She looked so beautiful, golden hair gleaming in the warm late afternoon sun, head thrown back with each forward swing.

Eventually she brought the swing to a standstill and joined Richard on the bench. "It's been a lovely day" she commented a lazy smile on her face.

"Yeah" he agreed closer, one hand snaking under her hair to caress the nape of her neck, she smiled again, a dreamy girly smile that made him lean forward and kiss her. He was surprised by the fervour with which she returned the kiss. He loved Buffy he truly did, but at times he did wish she were a little more passionate.

Making out on a park bench with your girl, Richard felt about sixteen years old, however the kisses she was giving him where not those of a teenager. Her hands roamed over his back drawing them ever closer together, until she was virtually in his lap grinding herself against him.

"Buffy" he pushed her away when her hand reached down between them to undo his fly. "Buffy what are you doing, I thought we where going to wait" This was insane, where had this sudden attack of bold passion come from, they where in a park for Christ's sake.

"Don't wanna," she pouted at him, swivelling her hips against him. Shit she was killing him, he never wanted anything so badly as he wanted her at that moment, but they had agreed to wait.

"Buffy" he pleaded, "Don't…"

His word where cut off by a shout across the park "Buffy!" At the sound of Xander's voice she sprung off his lap, straightening he top.

"Over here Xander" she called waving to her friend. Richard studied her as the young man approached, she looked so calm and composed, as if nothing had happened, while his own heart was hammering so loudly in his chest.

And there it was again, the undercurrent of suspicion, she was acting strangely, cancelling their dates, trying to have sex with him in a park. He remembered a colleague telling him that he had never had more sex than when his wife was having an affair, guilt or increased sex drive or something.

"Hey Buff" Xander greeted cheerily, nodding to Richard. "Did you forget that thing we where going to do tonight?"

No not him Richard thought, sure the young man was well built and handsome, but something about the way he and Buffy interacted told him that it wasn't Xander. The other man then, Angel? Was that his name? He was a possibility, not Giles surely, although he himself could not have been more than ten or fifteen years the older man's younger.

"Oh right, of course" She turned to him, kissing his cheek briefly "I gotta go darling, call me tomorrow" and with that she was gone, leaving him alone with a lingering stiffy and a suspicious mind.

………

He looked at the pencil drawings laid out before him and sighed. He had been woken by a series of vivid dreams in mid afternoon, dreams of a life he had no recollection of living. Again the Slayer had feature heavily, mainly she was fighting, either with him or against him, fiery beauty eclipsing all as she moved.

Her image stared back at him for half the sketches, expressions varying from highly pissed of to oddly tender. The other half where a mixture of dream images, somewhere of his Nibblet, some of Red, he refused to sketch the watcher or the whelp.

More confusingly where the images that he snatched up and tucked in his inside pocket before heading out, just time to get a few drinks before he had to be at the Slayers.

………..

The recriminations had been tellingly brief when Xander arrived with Buffy. She had waved off their concerns, declaring that she was there now, could they please get started.

It had been decided that they should go ahead and move the Slayers from Rushden, the attack was obviously designed to keep the Slayer groups separate. Once that had been decided conversation turned to what Giles referred to as "The Spike problem"

"I'm just saying" Xander defended his call not to trust Spike, which had earned him a death glare from Dawn. "He's not our Spike, he's a soulless killer, just like when he first came to Sunnydale. You do all remember that right?"

"Yes" Willow said diplomatically "But Spike is remembering pieces, maybe I can try a spell to free his memory"

"No" Buffy's first contribution since the topic had turned to the vampire was loud enough to make others jump "I just mean we should find out more first" she mumbled turning her face away.

Dawn frowned, last night Buffy had cried over Spike not knowing her, today she shot down any suggestion of helping him remember.

Further discussion was prevented by the arrival of the vampire in question, strolling uninvited into the living room and perching himself comfortably on the arm of Dawn's chair.

"So" he began, clearly enjoying the discomfort of the group "Got anything for me?"

It was Giles who responded "Precious little I'm afraid. I was rather hoping you could give us some more information on Marcus"

"Right you are, after you tell me why I see this lot in my dreams" with that he threw a collection of sketches on the coffee table. Willow gasped, her fingers moving to touch the crooked smile on the lips of one of the images. Xander turned away, sharp eyes stared up at him from one of the pages, a drawing of a pretty girl with fine bone structure and shoulder length hair, tears pricked his eyes, it was such a good likeness, her exact expression captured on cheap stationary, Anya.

14. A silent attack
 

“It is done sire” Solomon’s deep voice penetrated the tense atmosphere of the room causing Beatrice to whimper softly. Marcus stroked his sister’s hair gently while he acknowledged the demon.

“Excellent, how long until they reach her?” he asked his eyes drifting again to the dark woman beside him.

“Just hours sir. Jacob plans to attack before dawn”

“And he understand that I want them dead. Her and the vampire” His hand tightened in the woman’s hair causing her to keen softly in pain

“He has sworn it on his tribes honour” Solomon answered. “He dare not fail”

“Very well” Marcus relaxed his grip and returned to gentler ministration. “How goes the gathering?”

“As planned sire, all but four of the divisions are in place, we are just days away from full strength. The Slayers too are readying themselves our intelligence tells us that they too are gathering around the hellmouth”

“It is as well” Marcus smiled a cruel, confident smile “it will make the annihilation of their kind all the swifter.” At his lieutenants uneasy look he walked over to the taller demon, laying his hands on his shoulders. “We out number then five to one my friend, the war will be swift and bloody, and when they die, the slayer line dies with them”

He turned to look at the beautiful vampire behind him, “She has seen it, and she is never wrong”

……….

Dawn leant forward and began leafing through the sketches. There was another of Anya wearing here hair shorter, one of Glory next to which Spike had scribbled the word ‘Bitch’. She smiled at that and handed the picture to her sister, who swapped it with her for a roughly drawn sketch of Adam.

“Good lord” Giles muttered his eyes scanning the collection.

Spike watched the group carefully as they passed the images around, wordlessly communicating with raised eyebrows and questioning looks. The whelp had moved to the window and was staring into the night, acting on impulse he reclaimed one of his drawings and moved to stand beside the young man.

“In my dreams” he began softly, his eyes riveted to the image in his hands. “In my dreams she was extraordinary, fiery and forthright. One of a kind”

Xander’s eyes drifted to the picture, tears threatening to spill over. Spike didn’t have time to question his own motivation, he pressed on as if compelled by some unseen force. “Your girl?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah” Xander answer, a whisper so soft only the vampire could hear him. “My girl.” Lifting his eyes he saw the vampire nod, understanding radiating from him. Ironic how with his natural hair and grey T-Shirt Spike looked so much more like a man and so much less like the soulless killer he had once again become?

He slipped the image into the taller mans hands and returned to the group. Ruffling Dawn’s hair as he repositioned himself on her chair. “So” he turned his attention to the watcher. “What d’you reckon?”

“Well” Giles began, removing his glasses “It seems clear that your subconscious mind is beginning to free itself from whatever means Marcus employed to block your memories. Willow here is an accomplished witch, she has offered to attempt to recover your memories”

Spike sense the Slayer tensing just outside his line of vision, her body humming with sudden anxiety. He kept his senses a tuned to her as he regarded the witch “Not sure I want the good witch poking about in my noggin” the Slayer relaxed, interesting. “On the other hand, might simple things out if I knew what had been going on.” A palpable increase in tension.

“What you reckon Slayer?” he asked, enjoying her shocked expression as he settled his eyes on her. “You think we should have Red here work her mojo on me.” Dear in headlights! Score! He chuckled inwardly, whatever was going on with the Slayer, had her riding a rollercoaster.

“No” she answered too vehemently, before catching herself. “I mean, magic can be tricky, and if your remembering stuff without it, then it’s probably best to wait and see what happens. I mean we don’t want you to forget even more stuff.” Stop Buffy stop, you’re rambling. Stop. “Not that you would but, you might. Or you might remember other stuff that never happened, or being dead.” For the love of God Buffy, stop! She commanded herself. He’s looking at you like you’re crazy. “Remember that time that we all forgot everything, what if something like that happened? Oh no, well you wouldn’t. But take it from me it wasn’t any fun, and…”

“Buffy!” Oh thank God for Dawn. “We get it. Magic bad!” She glanced at he sister and then back at the vampire who was openly laughing at her now. Eyes crinkling with mirth, lips curled upward in genuine amusement. Her heart warmed, she’d made him laugh, okay so he was laughing at her incredible stupidity, but still she’d made him laugh. She returned his smile with one of her own, warm and affectionate. Immediately his laughter stopped and a hard look entered his eyes.

“Right then” he address Giles. “Best do like the Slayer says” He gave Buffy another hard look. Pain twisted in her chest, he remembered Dawn, and Anya, and Tara. He was still calling Willow Red. Hell he’d even been nice to Xander, why was he looking at her like she was something he might find on his shoe. God if he hated her this much now, what would happen when he remembered what and Uber-Bitch she’d been to him.

“I wonder” Giles ventured politely “would it be possible for you to give us some further detail on your own experience. Anything you can tell us about Marcus, or his operation would be most helpful”

Spike drummed his fingers on his knee. “Don’t know much,” he answered, “Woke up in a cage naked as a new born. Some pretty powerful mojo, I reckon. This guy Marcus was there, didn’t like him, far too smooth.” He looked at the watcher, then at the Slayer, hiding her face behind a curtain of silky hair.

“Anyways” he continued. “Marcus tells me that the Slayer killed me and Dru in that church fire. Remember, the ritual. Tells me he’ll make me a deal, I keep the Slayer out of his way, he’ll bring Dru back.”

“It doesn’t make any sense” Dawn put in. “I mean he’s got an army of demons, why not send them? Why go to all the trouble of bringing Spike back?”

“Why bother at all?” the Slayer asked looking around the group, carefully avoiding Spike’s eyes. “There are hundreds of Slayers now, why single me out?”

It was Spike who answered. “Well there are Slayers, and there are Slayers.” He looked at her, forcing her to hold his eyes. “Not all created bloody equal. If what you tell me is true, you got vamps, hell gods, even the grand daddy of evil to your name. If it were me, I’d want you out of the picture. You certainly mucked up my plans a few times”

Don’t smile, she told herself firmly as she basked in the compliment, he doesn’t like it when you smile at him.

………..

Could be him, Richard thought as he watched the scene through the living room window. He’d watched the stranger saunter up Buffy’s drive a while ago, entering the house without knocking. Everything about the man irritated Richard, his easy swagger, and self-satisfied smirk. The way he ruffled Dawn’s hair as if she were a child. He watched as the man laughed at something Buffy was saying and he felt his anger rise.

You don’t know anything, he told himself, you’re a rational man, no need to jump to conclusions. He moved up the drive to the front door, trying fruitlessly to catch the muffled conversation within. Taking a deep breath he pushed open the door, calling out a greeting as he entered the living room.

“Richard” Buffy looked shocked, maybe even guilty. She tried to cover with a smile. “What are you doing here, it’s…” she consulted her watch. “It’s gone one”

“You forgot this” he handed her the light chiffon scarf she had been wearing earlier that day.

Frowning she took the scarf. “I coulda waited till tomorrow for this you know” she said, her tone unnaturally light.

“Well I wanted to see you anyway” he responded catching her eye with a questioning look. Behind him Spike snorted, amused disdain written on his face.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Richard asked fixing his gaze on Spike.

“Where not friends” he said, his voice low and suggestive. The man’s jealousy and suspicion was palpable. “We’ll never be friends” he looked past the man to let his eyes roam over the Slayer, his tongue curling behind his teeth.

The man’s reaction was exactly as Spike expected, jealous anger contorting his face into a dark glare. The Slayer flushed prettily under his scrutiny; “Shut up Spike!” she ordered half-heartedly.

Spike laughed again. “Well I’ll be off then” rising he gave Dawn a cheeky wink before turning his gaze to the Slayer. “Same time tomorrow then, luv?” he drawled.

“Umm, sure” she responded flustered by his sudden use of the endearment. “See you then”

…….

Jacob raised a clawed hand, silently bringing his companions to a halt. The house was lit despite the late hour, and he could make out a group of people through the window, among them was the vampire, obviously relaxed in the slayers home. Hatred dark and thick as tar flowed through his being. The vampire should have been his brother, bound together in Marcus, any alliance with a slayer was profane, a blasphemy to his master’s name.

He watched the vampire leave, sauntering casually out of the lair of the enemy. A few gestures of his hand had his men moving silently to flank the creature, their glowing eyes half closed to hide them in the night.

“Wait” he ordered in his mind, his thoughts reaching out to his companions. “A little further from the house” his orders flowed through the ether silent and deadly.

………

“Buffy” to anyone outside of the Scooby gang Willow’s voice would have sounded no different to her usual tone, but the group had been through too much together not to hear urgency, maybe even fear in the single word.

Dawn reacted immediately, instinctively coming to her sister’s aid. “Hey Richard, I couldn’t run a legal question past you could I? I know it’s late but I know Mr Letterman is ask tomorrow”

“Sure Dawn” Richard looked anything but pleased by the suggestion, “But I wanted to have a word with your sister first”

“No problem” Buffy cut in broad smile cracking her face. “Go help Dawn, I’ll be here when you’re done” With that she shooed the pair upstairs towards the makeshift study.

“What is it?” she asked urgently when her fiancée was out of earshot.

“Psychic disturbance. Demons, I don’t understand the language, but it felt like they where hunting. It’s coming from the direction of North Street, maybe…”

But she didn’t get to finish, the Slayer was already moving, grabbing a battle-axe from it’s hiding place in the closet. “Cover for me” she ordered before heading out into the night.

………

Spike sensed his assailants too late. They where already upon him, wicked claws tearing deep gashes on his back. He rolled forward out of range, ignoring the searing pain that shot up his spine. Another attacked from the left, but he was ready, dropping under the sweeping arc of the demons clawed arm he kicked out hard at its legs, satisfied to hear the crunch of shattering bone.

Another roll had him coming up to face them, back to the wall. Outnumbered six to one, and wounded, he calculated his odds of survival as very slim indeed. His eyes scanned for an escape route, but none revealed itself. “Well, well” he drawled, hoping to stall them “what have we got here? Little assassination party?”

“Silence scum” the mental command sent pain shooting through Spikes brain, like electricity, like the chip. The memory startled him, it was so real, he could almost feel it’s righteous punishments searing his brain. He relived the feeling of loss, the desperate helplessness that had first driven him in to the Slayer’s circle. Distracted he failed to counter their combined attack, going down hard under the demons’ powerful assault.

Pain coursed through him as claws and booted feet drew blood and bruises from his prone body.

………….

Buffy thought she had been running as fast as was physically possible, but somehow she managed to accelerate at the unmistakable sound of his pained cry. Her mind chanted his name as she ran, pleading for his safety with a God that cared nothing for his kind.

The scene that greeted her as she rounded the corner fuelled her rage. Six demons mercilessly beating the bloody and broken body of her erstwhile lover. An incoherent scream of fury ripped from her as she made the first swing of her axe.

With that one strike two demon heads rolled to meet the tarmac, another downwards motion had another falling dead beside its comrades. The others turned to her, claws extended, eyes glowing like sulphur.

She shifted her weight over one hip and gave the demons a hard look. “I think you wanna leave him alone” she suggested, her tone helpful and then they where on her.

Spike was vaguely aware of the fight raging above him. And in it’s centre, Buffy, golden and magnificent her hair flying about her as she turned, her axe blade flashing in the moonlight.

She had saved him, it was too strange too even consider and yet somehow familiar. Had she come to his aid before? No not possible, self-righteous bitch would never lower herself to protect the likes of him. Yet here she was taking and landing blows in equal measure. Instinct told him to help her, she was down to two on one how, but she was tiring fast.

Ignoring the protests of his battered body, he pulled himself upright. His head swam and his wounds shot pain across his torso, by force of will alone he managed to launch himself at the closer of the two demon, throwing himself up onto the things broad back, hands going to either side of its head. A sharp twist right snapped its neck with a sickening crack. Spike tumbled to the ground with his victim and let the blessed blackness take him.

…………..

Willow answered the phone after only one ring. “Buffy?” she asked, anxiety making her voice urgent and shaky.

“Get rid of Richard” an order, absolute and unquestionable, then silence.

“Buffy?” but the slayer had already hung up, trusting that the red head would see too it.

Willow nervously entered the study, her hands wringing in front of her giving her away despite her excessively casual tone. “Hey Richard, Buffy just had to go out. She said not to wait, she’ll call you in tomorrow, well later today” she gave him and unconvincing smile.

“Gone out?” Richard questioned incredulously. “It’s two in the morning where did she go?”

There was no way, Dawn thought, that Richard could recognise the change in the atmosphere, he had not, after all, spent his youth surrounded by the supernatural. No way he could interpret the slight change in Willows voice the darkening of her eyes. To him she was just Willow, Buffy’s successful lesbian friend. How could he know that she was in fact one of the most powerful wicca ever to have lived?

Magic, rich and soothing flowed through the air with her words, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Just go home and Buffy will see you tomorrow. Just forget all about it”

For a moment He looked disorientated, before snapping his attention back to the witch. “I’m gonna go” he announced as if it where his idea, “could you ask Buffy to call me tomorrow?”

“Sure” the redhead answered as she walked him to the door, “I’ll tell her. Goodnight Richard”

………

“You don’t get any lighter do you?” Buffy asked the unconscious man she was half carrying, half dragging up her front steps. “Guys” she called out, “A little help here”.

Xander was with her in an instant, his hands going to support the vampires opposite side as they pulled him into the house. Dawn gasped audibly as they entered the hall, her hands flying to her mouth in horror. “Is he okay?” she asked her sister, taking in the Slayers own bruises, the blood seeping through her shirt “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She answered in a strong voice, before visibly faltering. “Please just help me get him upstairs” Pain and fatigue filled her voice “please help me, he need’s blood and…”

Desperate tears filled her green eyes as she looked to them, and fear too. What was she afraid of? Her sister wondered even as she moved to take his weight from her. Did she believe that they would not help her that old prejudices still held? True that the others where afraid of Spike in his current state, but surely Buffy could not believe that his sacrifices had been forgotten.

“I’ll go get some” Willow offered, gently touching her arm, “you let Dawn and Xander look after him, okay. You need to let Giles patch you up.”

Buffy stood still, watching the painfully slow progress, Dawn and Xander where making, hauling the vampire up the steps, she moved to follow them but the gentle pressure of the watchers hand on her arm stopped her. “They can look after him” he told her softly “come now, let me have a look at that cut”

The iodine stung, but she barely felt it. She was certain that the bruised on her body should be sore, but she couldn’t feel them. Exhaustion and worry filled her senses, leaving no room for mere physical pain. She tried to focus on Giles’ voice, he was asking what happened, it was oddly comforting, reporting to her watcher, like older, simpler times.

“Six off them” she told him. “They where trying to beat him to death in an alley of North Street. Big, nasty, very sharp claws.”

He gave her a wry smile "Well that narrows it down”

She couldn’t help give him a wan smile in return at that. “Are we done?” she asked, “I need to…” she looked towards the stairs

“Of course” he replied gently holding her gaze, “you should be with him”
 

15. a coming awake
 

Dawn knocked gently on the open door of their spare room and watched as Willow turned slowly towards her with a distracted “hmmm?”.

“Hey” she greeted, moving to sit next to the redhead on the cheerfully bright duvet cover. “You ok?”

“Of course Dawnie, why wouldn’t I be?” Even in her own ears Willow’s faux cheerful voice sounded tinny and hollow. She sighed and met Dawn’s eyes “I just, I feel really bad you know”

“I know.” replied the younger girl. Willow marvelled once again at the woman before her, the strange understanding she possessed, innocence without naivety shone from her ancient eyes. Willow’s own magical energy had long ago recognised the kindred power that flowed in Dawns blood and was humbled by its depth.

“You did what you had to do” The ‘Key’ continued. “You did what Buffy needed you to do”

“I know, I know. Its just…” she trailed off, turning her face away. “I know it was only magical suggestion. But its still just mind control by any other name and I…” she trailed off again looking back at Dawn and drawing strength from her quiet support. “After Tara… I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t do, anything that would make her disappointed in me. She was so humble, so moral. I was arrogant back then, seduced by my own power, convinced that might was always right”

Again she met the brunette’s eyes, asking for, and receiving understanding. Reassured she continued, “I could’ve learned so much from her, so much about natural magic, and about right and wrong. I just wasn’t ready, and by the time I was, she was gone and it was too late.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Would Tara have done what I did tonight?”

“Tara would never judge anything you did, if it was done for the right reason” Dawn assured her, her warm hand finding Willows knee in a shown of comfort. “Somebody had to do something fast, and it was you who rose to it. Like it always is.” She gave the witch a crooked smile “Remember what Buffy always said? You’re the big gun”

Both girls smiled at that and Dawn stood to leave “Don’t beat yourself up Willow. You’re not that girl anymore. Trust yourself. The rest of us do.”

With that she was gone, leaving the witch staring after her, a small smile on her lips.

……….

Dreams and memories merged in his exhausted mind, past images throwing themselves against the magical barriers in his mind. He dreamt of honeyed skin, warm and supple beneath his cold rough hands, fragranced with an intoxicating mixture of sweat and vanilla. He dreamt of angry words and small hard fists against his defenceless body. He dreamt of passion and hatred, of violence and indescribable tenderness, and at its centre a girl, golden and beautiful, faceless and yet so achingly familiar.

He swam towards consciousness, dreams mixing with reality. Warm hands skimmed over his torn chest in a tender caress, the air stirred with soft warm breath. His muddled senses reached out to her, calling her to him, she moved closer as he stirred, heat radiated from her, infinitely more comforting than the heavy blankets draped over his body.

Dreams slipped away. He raised an unsteady hand to find warm skin. He heard a sharp intake of breath. His had explored further, moving up a slim arm to cradle the silky skin of her neck, his thumb gently caressing the erratic beat beneath. She gasped again. Her vice came low and breathy “Spike”.

He forced his tired eyes to open. He had to see her, his dreams made flesh…

“Slayer” he shrieked, recoiling violently at the sight. She recoiled too, standing and backing off a pace, her face flaming with embarrassment. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” he growled angrily.

“I, er, I was umm” she faltered, desperately searching her panicked mind for a convincing excuse. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly, an unpleasant sneer still curling his mouth.

“I was tending,” she blurted. “Er, tending your wounds, we’ve been taking turns and it was my turn. Yuck!” he was giving her that look again. The one filled with disdain and incredulity, conveying in no uncertain terms that not only did he disbelieve her, but he also disliked her intensely. “We, er, couldn’t have you dying, we, er, need information, on, er Marcus” Well done Buffy, wanna cram another ‘er’ into that sentence.

“I’ll heal up a sight better without Slayer hands all over me. Enough to make a fella ill it is” he gave her a disgusted look before making himself comfortable again and closing her eyes.

Buffy felt her anger rise, God he was infuriating. “You ungrateful bastard.” She hissed causing him to open his eyes and fix her with a challenging stare. Buffy responded in kind. “I risk my ass to save you pathetic excuse for a hide, from a bunch of claw wielding demons. Drag your sorry ass all the way back here, put you in my bed, get you blood at three in the morning, and you have the nerve! God, could you be anymore annoying?”

“Didn’t ask you for nothing Slayer!” he countered pushing himself up to a sitting position. “Never asked for your help”

“Oh” she responded her tone biting “Of course, you had that pack o’ nasties beat. I shoulda realised that lying on the floor bleeding was all part of the plan”

His jaw clenched visibly as he moved his legs painfully off the bed. “Better to be dust than owe the Slayer anything. And as for your bed! Smells of Slayer, ‘t’s makin’ me nauseous, so I’ll just toddle off now” He stood shakily, leaning heavily on the wall.

“Fine” she countered, hurt fuelling her anger “See how far you get, like that, no blood, no weapons.”

“I’ll manage” he retorted, “you can keep your pig’s swill, I’ll take mine straight form the vein.”

She bristled, crossing her arms and stepping aside “You couldn’t hunt down a kitten in your condition. Go on then, I really need to wash my sheets”

He gave her another hate filled glare and summoning what was left of his strength pushed off the wall towards the door. He only made it half way. His head swam, and his legs gave out.

Strong arms, slim and powerful caught him before he hit the floor. “Spike please” she begged, all traces of anger gone from her voice, replaced with concern. “Please just go back to bed, you need to rest”

She was leading him towards the bed. He hadn’t the strength to resist, even if he wanted to. He didn’t. Every inch of his body hurt, and the bed was soft and warm and smelt of nice, and the Slayer was asking nicely and she was warm too and she smelt so good too, like jasmine and soft feminine skin.

He let her lay him down and bring the covers up around his chest, her hands didn’t linger this time, her touch was almost professional against his skin, gentle but indifferent. He watched her leave through already closing eyes, sleep again reaching our to claim him. “Slayer” his weak voice stopped her at the door and she turned to him “Thanks” he whispered and was rewarded by a radiant smile.

“Your welcome” she answer her voice soft and filled with tenderness, but he was already asleep.

………

“The generals are ready sire” Solomon informed his master with a slight bow.

“Excellent. There are no tribes yet to arrive?” he asked

“All are here sire, and all are ready”

“Good, you have the offerings?”

“Yes sire, just as you commanded”

The generals where a fierce some group of creatures, warlords for all the demon tribes under Marcus’ banner. Master vampires in their human guises sat alongside huge Polgara demons and Fyral. Bedrog and Trex demon, natural enemies stood together at the back of the room.

Horned Vaith demons drank Marcus’ fine blood laced wine and discussed battle tactics with scaly Vahrall warlords.

Silent Apeathans shamed by the failure of Jacob’s assassination team stood alone to one side, while demons of all shape and sizes milled around the large oak table.

“My friends” Marcus’ greeting brought silence to the room. He smiled feeling the power of the amulet working it’s magic on their minds.

“The battle plans progress well,” he informed them. “The slayers have positioned themselves just as we anticipated, and our own force grows in strength”

“Each of you has played his” he broke off to give Anastasia, mistress of the largest vampire army ever assembled a charming smile “and her, part well. All is prepared, we need only wait until the alignment, and then we shall attack”

A bold Chaos demon rose to question Marcus. “If all is ready lord, why wait until the alignment?” murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.

“Patience comrades” Marcus chided gently. “It must be as it has been seen. It must be as I command” the amulet around his neck glowed in the softly lit room, lacing it’s wearers words with power. Marcus could feel them bending to his will, accepting his commands.

“All is ready” he addressed them again, his voice congenial. “We have time for a little relaxation, please follow me”

He led them to a large hall, high ceilinged and echoing. In it’s centre huddled a group of almost a hundred terrified humans.

Young women, for the vampire lords, mothers clutching wailing babies, favour delicacy of the Vahrall. Witches for the Bedrog and handsome boys for the Apeathans.

“Please” Marcus invited, with a flourish of his hand “Enjoy”

Marcus stood beside Solomon and watched the carnage with an amused smile, laughing occasionally at the humans’ futile attempts to escape their attackers. Blood stained the floor and screams echoed against the cold walls.
………….

“Have I been asleep long?” he asked, not opening his eyes. He had felt her there when he woke up, her presence filling his sense. Comforting and familiar, affection radiated through her warm hand where it stroked his. He smiled softly and opened his eyes. She was radiant, with her glossy hair and soulful eyes, her expression soft and indulgent

“Hours” she answered “was pretty worried about you for a while.” She moved her hand to brush his tousled curls of his forehead. “You know we have got to do something about your hair”

He gave her a mock offended look. “What the bloody hell is wrong with my hair”

She arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow and smirked at him “Well to coin a phrase, ‘you look like a complete poofter’”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that, her American accent making the slang sound strange. “Okay then pet wha’ d’ya propose we do, bleach?”

She regarded him critically. “Umm. I was think more, Spikey, no pun intended, maybe a few highlights”

“Highlights” he sounded appalled. “No bloody way!”

“Please Spike, I’ll do it for you. I’m good I promise. Please” she pushed out her full lower lip and fluttered her eyelashes.

Spike felt himself weakening, she pouted at him again “Please” she whined.

“Okay Nibblet.” He stroked her glossy hair “Never could say no to a beautiful woman”

She clapped and bounced in her seat, the action endearingly childlike. “Yay! Thanks Spike”

Buffy turned away from the scene, tears pricking her eyes. How had this happened? It was her he loved. She’d been his everything. He’d only looked after Dawn for her sake. She’d been so sure of it at the time, so certain that the affection he showed her sister had been an act put on for her benefit. “Self-involved much?” She muttered to herself.

Of course he had always loved Dawn, he’d been like a big brother to her, but Dawn wasn’t a child anymore. He’d said it himself she was a beautiful woman, and Spike was a man, a man with no memory of the gangly teenager she used to be.

Stop it Buffy, she commanded herself, it’s not like that. But then again Dawn had always had a crush on Spike, if he showed and interest maybe she would. Stop it, stop it, stop it! You have Richard now; you have your normal life.
She sat down on the stairs, head buried in her hands. How hollow it all seemed now, she was living this life for him, but he was here and he didn’t care how she lived.

Her life rang hollow and fake in her mind, nice normal Richard so boring and pedestrian compared to the vampire upstairs. Upstairs with her sister, jealousy gripped her again, tightening painfully around her heart. But it wasn’t about Dawn, it was about Spike, and he didn’t want her anymore. All she had left were memories of an old life he didn’t remember and thoughts of a new life she’d never wanted.

She curled up against the banister and cried, silent tears flowing freely down her pretty face.

 

16. A bit of progress
 

“Buffy?” Richard’s sounded strange, tense, when Buffy answered the phone.

Buffy slapped herself on the forehead, “Oh God Richard, I am so sorry, I meant to call but everything’s just gone crazy around here”

“Problems with your new house guest?” he asked his tone bitter.

“How… how did you know about…?” Buffy began flustered by the obvious accusation in her fiancée’s voice. “Yeah, he’s an old friend and he’s kinda in trouble, so we took him in. It’s not for long, just till he gets himself sorted out”

“If I recall correctly, it was his assertion that the two of you where in no way friends” Buffy tensed, God he sounded so much like a lawyer she felt as if she were on trial.

“Well he’s really more Dawn’s friend than mine” she replied desperately trying to keep her voice casual despite the swarm of butterflies in her belly. “He was like a big brother to her back in Sunnydale”

“Oh I see” he retorted angrily “another Sunnydale friend you never told me about”

“Richard” she tried to calm him “there’s really nothing to tell. He and I weren’t that close, he’s just a friend of Dawn’s”

“I see” he paused, in the silence Buffy could hear her own heart thundering in her chest. “So why’s he in your bedroom”

Righteous anger boiled in the Slayer’s mind “Have you been spying on me?” she asked outraged.

“Forget it Buffy” he spat angrily, “you know where I am. If you can find a minute to talk”

Buffy listened to the dial tone for several seconds before finally replacing the receiver in its cradle. Sighing deeply she ran a shaky hand through her hair and turned around. “Aahhh!!!” she cried loudly jumping back.

“Jesus Spike!” she chided him, her hand going to her rapidly beating heart, “you scared the shit outta me”

He gave an amused chuckle and leaned heavily against the counter, “Trouble in paradise?” he asked blandly, angling his head slightly towards the phone. She sighed taking a seat next to him.

“You could say that. It seems nice normal fiancée and crazy Slayer life are definitely non-mixy things”

“That prat is your fiancée?” he asked scathingly, “I knew you had piss poor taste in men Slayer, but hell, even Angelus had style”

Buffy shrugged, “he’s nice, very reliable”.

Spike frowned, was that the extent of her defence of her future husband? “Reliable?” he asked raising a scarred eyebrow, “I think I’ll interpret that as ‘boring’?

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You interpret it however you like” she replied haughtily.
“It’s not like you care who I date” was that bitterness in the Slayer’s tone?

“Too bloody right I don’t” he replied defensively. He didn’t care, really, why would he? But somehow the suit didn’t seem good enough for her.

“Right then” she replied stiffly.

“Right” he replied, why the hell was this suddenly so bloody awkward? He had come down stairs out of sheer boredom, teasing the Slayer about her sorry excuse for a love life was supposed to be more fun than this. But oh fuck was she? Where there tears in her eyes?

Don’t you dare cry Slayer, he pleaded mentally, don’t you bloody cry. Oh shit she was, big luminous eyes filling with tears, lower lip trembling slightly as she fought back tears. He froze, his mind replaying a similar scene, at night on the Slayers back porch in Sunnydale.

“Don’t do that.” He tried to order, but it game out more of a plea, “Come on Slayer, don’t you dare cry.”

“I’m sorry” she shouldn’t have tried to speak, she lost her control and fat tears began to roll down her flushed cheeks.

Spike looked around the kitchen desperately, as if hoping to find that help had magically appeared. He looked back at the Slayer, her head buried in her hands, quiet sobs sending tremors through her slight frame. Just leave her, she’d be ok, she’s a bloody Slayer, stupid bint deserves to cry. Say something cruel. Rub it in.

“Come on pet, buggers not worth it” his voice was gentle and pleading. She looked up at him with huge wet eyes, God she was beautiful. Shit no, what was he thinking, get out Spike, this is all bloody wrong. “Don’t cry love” he gently touched her shoulder, feeling her warm body move instinctively in to the touch.

“I’m sorry” she mindlessly apologised again. “Everything’s just upside down, with Marcus and the Slayers, and your back and I can’t even think straight. I never believed…” she moved closer, her eyes searching his as his hand slid gently down to her elbow.

“I mean, I made wishes sure, but I never let myself really hope.” She was so close now that had he needed to breathe they would have been sharing the same air. Instinctively his hand came to rest on her hip, feeling her intoxicating warmth spreading through his fingers. Closer still, till only a thin layer of charged air separated their bodies, “Spike” she whispered softly, a plea and an invitation.

He was drowning, he could feel himself slipping under, she smelt of jasmine and her hand had come to rest lightly on his chest, hot little fingers branding his cold skin, her green eyes filled with hope.

“Slayer” he responded, his body tingled with desire. She was so close. His eyes drifted to her lips, parted and pouting. He tilted his head, his eyes locked on hers again, moving closer so slowly, just inches more and his lips would be on hers.

“Bloody hell” he shouted, his voice loud and harsh as it shattered the silence of the house. He shoved her back roughly, wincing as his wounds punished the action.

She held his eyes over the feet that now separated them, both panting, frustrated and confused. “Sod this” he spat angrily before hobbling unsteadily from the room.

…………

“Hey there Buffster” Xander’s cheerful voice penetrated the Slayers dazed mind, how long had she been sitting there, she wondered, too stunned to move. “How was your day at home with the recently evil again undead?” he asked light-heartedly

“Hey Xan” she greeted, a wan smile tugging her lips.

“Ready to make some progress with the big bad?”

Buffy jumped guiltily, how could he know… oh of course Marcus. She shook herself, clearing her thoughts, “Way to go with the positive thinking Xan, given our spectacular lack of anything even resembling progress” Buffy could feel herself relaxing in to the gentle banter, Xander’s familiar companionship slowly easing her tense mind.

“The way I see it, there’s only so much failure we can manage, before success becomes inevitable.” He gave her a cheeky grin that lightened her sagging spirit, “Plus” he continued seriously, “I have with me the secret to achieving research success” with a flourish he produced a box of donuts, like a magician producing a rabbit from a hat.

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh, God how had she lived so long without him in her life, “I love you Xan” she told him spontaneously, revelling in the simplicity of their relationship.

He gave her a soft sincere smile, “Love you too, Buff”

…….

“So you say he has a psychic working for him?” Giles asked, later that evening when the group gathered together.

Spike sat next to a concerned Dawn who, fussed and fluttered around him, until he had slapped her lightly over the back of the head and told her to “Quit your bloody clucking woman”

“Yeah” he answered, wincing slightly as he adjusted his aching body in the chair. “Regular Dru clone, going on about fine wine and Slayer tears. Marcus seemed to put a lot of faith in it though. Oh yeah Beatrice. Bint’s name was Beatrice”

“Ooh!” Willow cut in excitedly. “I have a Beatrice” she consulted her screen. “Definitely a Dru clone, vampire, powerful seer, kinda crazy” she gave Spike an apologetic smile. He shrugged dismissively, nodding for her to continue. “It seems she’s his vampire sire and his biological sister, and eww”

“What” asked Xander looking over her shoulder, “Wow, she’s hot” he commented catching Spike’s eye. The two shared a purely masculine moment of concordance, that wasn’t lost on Buffy, where she stood by the mantle casting surreptitious glances at the vampire.

“She’s also twisted” Willow continued. “She and Marcus where lovers before they where turned. Quite the scandal apparently ruined the whole family.”

“Ewww!” Buffy seconded the redhead sentiment

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Giles asked the vampire for what seemed like the thousandth time. “The Slayers are in position and are readying themselves for combat, but as yet we still have no idea what we will be facing.

“Getting demon’s working together” Spike’s voice held a hint of awed appreciation. “That’s a hell of a feet, I was surprised enough to see a Vaith working for a Vampire. But your Slayers say he’s got Trex and Bedrog fighting together. The man must be one hell of an orator”

“It does seem unlikely” Giles commented, “That even the most powerful of reasoning could inspire such an alliance.”

“Too bloody right” Spike agreed. “Bedrog ain’t big on reason either, more your blood and mayhem kinda guys.”

Dawn’s mind flashed back to her conversation with Willow yesterday, she addressed the witch. “Could it be some kind of mind control? A spell maybe”

“A spell like that would be impossible to maintain over any length of time. Plus there’s no way he could do it to that many demons, even if he had the power” She shook her head. “Besides, I really don’t think a spell of that magnitude could go unnoticed”

“Quite right” Giles added, “Also, many demons have natural defences against that kind of magical attack.”

Silence fell on the group once again. Buffy eyes again found the vampire, only to widen in surprise to find him staring straight at her. She blushed deeply and looked away.

He was speaking, whispering something to Dawn. Buffy strained to hear him but could only make out the odd word. Dawn got up and fetched a pad and pencil for the desk in the study, handing in to Spike and settling herself down close to him. Buffy frowned, did she have to sit that close, give the guy some space Dawnie. Damn she was jealous again, stop it Buffy.

She watched as his hand moved deftly over the pad guiding the pencil through long sweeping strokes, his eyes were down and she could watch him without reservation. Her mind wandered, to long nights in his crypt, his talented hands drawing patterns on her bare skin, she had been his canvas back then and his muse. She ached with regret as the memory played out, moving inexorably towards its conclusion, when she would through harsh uncaring words at him, words of denial and fear. She remembered the sick satisfaction she would get from watching his face as she delivered her perfectly designed barbs, hope and affection crumbling into hurt and desperation.

She tore her eyes away from him as he looked up, placing the sketch in Giles’ waiting hand. “Best I can remember that’s Marcus”

“Thank you” Giles didn’t take his eyes off the image, “This is most…” he trailed off, his fingers tracing the image.

“Giles?” Buffy asked, “Giles?” again louder when the watcher didn’t respond.

“Huh?” he asked looking at his one time charge.

“Giles” her tone was exasperated. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure it’s just…” He paused again, his eyes on the image. “This around his neck, he was wearing this exact thing?” he asked the vampire urgently.

“Yeah, pendant thing, like a big hunk of amber in the middle of a triangle.” Spike replied gesturing to his own chest as if the amulet hung there. “Bit poncy, but then what d’ya expect from a bloody spic”

“What is it Giles?” Willow asked, moving to look over the watchers shoulder.

“I’m not sure, but I’ve seen it somewhere before”
 

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