Title: I Was Brought to My Senses (Chapter 5 of How Many Days)
Disclaimer: Joss doesn’t play with his toys anymore. Someone has to, dammit!
Rating: R
Pairing: Buffy/Spike, Dawn/Other, Willow/Giles, Willow/Other
Summary: Post-Season 7. This is a sequel to ‘Don’t Stop the Dance'
Distribution: Anywhere you like, just let me know.
Feedback: is welcome. ~Xionin (xionin@beautiful-freak.com)
Thank you: Pam and Maribel: my wonderful betas. I'd be lost without you!
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked out this morning.
It was like a veil had been removed from before my eyes
For the first time I saw the work of heaven
In the line where the hill had been married to the sky.
And all around me every blade of singing grass
Was calling out your name and that our love would always last.
And inside every turning leaf is the pattern of an older tree;
The shape of our future, the shape of all our history.
And out of the confusion, where the river meets the sea
Came things I'd never seen. -Sting

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I Was Brought to My Senses

Light this bright should burn.

It did before. Just before. Or is it just now?
Hard to tell how long…how much, what’s the word, time?
Yes, time.

Time moves. No, it passes.

Through time. Over time.
Out of.

This is…it’s…timeless. Without time.

He becomes aware of seeing, of looking around.
Where there had been nothing but light, suddenly there are shapes and shadows forming.

He thinks he might feel fear, but there’s no fear.

Tendrils of compassion reach toward his center.
They entwine themselves with his energy, stroking, caressing.

It’s…pleasurable.

Blinking. That’s what he’s doing. Blinking with…eyes.
And now there’s movement. He has weight. Substance.

He has form within the Light.

The shadows are growing towards him, but he’s not frightened.
On the contrary, he’s anticipating…something.

William.

What is William?

It’s who you are. Or would you prefer Spike?

What is Spike?

Also who you are.

Words…callings…no. Names. That’s what they are: names.

Your names. Choose one.

How?

What feels better? William or Spike?

Feels? What is feels?
I don’t understand.

William. What do you see, inside, when that word is said?

Fear. Pain. Loss. Humiliation.
Fear.

I don’t like the word William.

And Spike? What about that one?

Buffy.

What is that? Golden sunshine.

Shining…glowing…

Love. Love. Pain. More love.

Well?

I like Spike.

Figured you would. All right then, Spike.
Time to have a chat.

There is something hard beneath him and the weight has increased significantly.
He becomes aware of arms…legs…a chest…moving. His chest is moving up and down.

It’s a strange sensation.

Above there are patterns: swirling clouds of color forming.
He reaches out towards them, but they are too far away for him to touch.

Something does touch him, though, something soft and warm.
Something that looks a lot like what he’s reaching with.

A hand.

Yes…a hand…touching him. At the touch a flood of images infuse him.
Knowledge plants itself inside him, taking root.

Hands.

Feet.

Legs.

A body.

My body.

I am.

I am Spike.

He understands that he is lying on a floor. Sitting up, with the help of the hand, he turns his head towards the origin of the helper.

She looks…familiar: Soft, pretty and barefoot in a flowy black gown.

“Hi.” She crouches down beside him and smiles.

“Hi.” His voice sounds odd to him. Thick. “Where am I?”

She stands and walks over to a table. It’s round; a beautiful hardwood parlor table. Spike looks around the room. It is so familiar and instantly comforting.

“Didn’t you sit here with your mom and read to her?” Her back is to him and she’s looking through a book on the table. There’s a settee next to it. She sits, facing him, flipping through the pages.

“Uh…what?” Spike frowns as he takes in more of the room. Brocade curtains. Oriental rug. Fringe lamp. Oil painting of…

“Oh!” Spike jumps up and immediately falls back down on his butt. “Ow.”

The young girl giggles. Spike laughs too. It sounds like music.

“You give yourself some time to get used to being in that body again, okay?” She smirks at him. He nods.

“Where 'ave I been? And why are we here? Am I… I'm dead, aren’t I?” He doesn’t feel particular sadness, just states it as a fact needing confirmation.

“Well…” she stands up, placing the book back on the table, and walks around the room. “That’s up to you.”

Spike stands up again, this time more slowly. His legs are still a little shaky, but he feels much better. He’s wearing white. Something about that makes him uneasy.

“If you want to change it…go ahead,” she says over her shoulder as she studies the portrait. Spike looks back down at his clothing and it is all black.

“Whoa.”

“Yeah, Neo…” She turns halfway and smirks. “It’s neat isn’t it?” He grins and nods.
“You’re a cutie.” Spike feels warm all of a sudden. He touches his hands to his face.

“Thanks.” The word is a reflex.

“She must have been blind.” She turns back to the painting. There’s definitely a note of sadness in her voice.

“Who?” Spike crosses the room to stand next to her and look up at the portrait.

Papa.

“Buffy.” She doesn’t look at him when she says it, but Spike knows that she is watching him.

Buffy. The vampire slayer.
I'm a vampire.

“Not anymore, silly, not technically.” She turns towards him, waits for him to reciprocate, and places her hands on his face. “Mmm warm.” She smiles closing her eyes.

“Warm…I'm…warm. I'm WARM!” He backs away from her and stares at the color in his hands. They’re a peachy-pink instead of a grayish-white. “Am I…am…” he turns his hands over and over and sees the blood pumping through the veins.

“You’re not human.” She studies him for a moment. “But you’re no longer a vampire either.”

Spike frowns a little and he looks up at her, his arms dropping to the side. “What am I? Where am I? And why?” He feels the heat rising to his cheeks again, but this time it’s not so pleasurable.

“Geez.” She turns from him and sits back down on the settee, patting the seat beside her. “You have a lot of questions, don’t you?” She laughs a little.

Spike softens a bit and shrugs his shoulders. “Wouldn’ you?”

“Oh I did, when I first came here.” She looks around the room. “Well, not here, obviously, but…look” She pats the seat again. “Why don’t you come over here and I will try to refresh your memory, ok?” She looks at him with such an innocent smile that Spike can’t help but give in. He walks over to her and sits. He’s still amazed at the detail of the room.

“Why? It’s yours. It’s in you…part of you. And quite nice…different from mine for sure.” She feels the fabric of the settee admiringly.

“What is this place?” He keeps his voice low to hide the apprehension he feels.

“It’s…well...think of it as a pit stop.” She searches the ceiling for the words. “Ok, let’s start with this: what do you last remember?”

'Spike...no! No, you have to come. Please don’t’ leave me here alone...please! I love you!'
You’re not alone, lamb. You never will be again.

Spike’s eyes are closed tight, but he is calm. It’s a memory, but it’s dull and distant. The only thing he feels is love…for her.

“Told you someday she’d tell you.” At that, Spike opens his eyes and tilts his head slightly. The girl is studying him now, her face soft and sad. The blonde hair on her head is glowing, as if lit from within.

“You.” He says in a breath, a small smile on his lips.

“Yep.” She laughs a little. “Not surprised you don’t remember me, we weren’t properly introduced.” She puts out her hand. “Cassie.”

He takes her hand in between both of his, his eyes moving over her before settling in hers, tears glistening in them. “Grateful.”

Cassie ducks her head and removes her hand from his. She gets up and strolls around to the other side of the room. Spike stretches out his legs, following her with his gaze.

“So.”

“So where are we, right?”

“Well…yeah. And don’ forget the why part.” He grins.

“Alright.” She turns and faces him from across the room. Her arms are folded. “This is how it is. You were a vampire.” He nods. “You killed thousands of people.” He nods again, closing his eyes and wincing. “You sought out your soul.” He looks down at his hands; a flash of pain crosses his face before his features soften again.

“Yeah.”

“And you saved the world.”

Spike gives her a look that could only be described as shock. He pulls his legs up, placing his feet flat on the floor.

“I…wha?” His mouth twitches a bit, eyes growing wider by the second.

“You, Spike…Master Vampire of the Order of Aurelius…William the poet and devoted son…Saved. The. World.” She smiles brightly, clasping her hands and tilting her head to him in tribute.

Spike lets out a long breath. Can’t ‘ve. Not me. It was Buffy.

“It was you AND Buffy. You both, working together, saved mankind.” She walks towards him and kneels down before him, taking his head in her hands. She kisses the top of his head. When she pulls back, Spike notices the tears on her cheeks.

“What is it, luv?” He crinkles his brow, cocking his head to the side in his concern.

“You two.”

“Oh…that. Bloody impossible, wasn’t it?” He chuckles, but it’s a sad sound.

“No. It wasn’t. She just fought so hard against it until it was too late. I didn’t realize…I should’ve said something to her.” Cassie closes her eyes and another tear slips out.

“Ahhh, pet.” Spike instinctively slips his arms around the small girl to comfort her. “I doubt it would’ve made a difference. The Slayer and me…not meant to be, is all. I'm thankful for the time we did have.”

Cassie stands up and turns away from him. Her hands are clasped in front of her bent head, as if in prayer. Spike rises and walks around her to face her.

“What is it?” He ducks his head and tries to make eyes contact. She looks up and reaches down to take his hands in hers.

“You both have been wronged. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.” Her expression is very serious, troubled. Spike gives her hands a squeeze to encourage her to continue. She looks around a moment before her eyes settle in his again.

“She was supposed to be with you.”

“She was- no. No. She wasn’t s'pose to die with me. No. No! I won’t accept that.” He pulls his hands from her and walks to the other side of the room. The room dissolves into a park scene. Hyde Park in London, Spike recalls, deserted in the moonlit night.

“No, she loves you, Spike...” Cassie’s voice seems so far away that he turns to see where she’s gone. She’s not there. He searches the landscape. “I'm right here.” Cassie appears right at his side, her hand on his shoulder. “Let me show you.”

She points to a bench nearby. Buffy is there. She has her knees drawn up to her chest. Spike’s eyes go wide.

“Buffy.” It’s a whisper. She is dressed head to toe in black. Her normally golden skin is somewhat pale. Her hair, now down to her waist, is a deep golden color and whips in the strong breeze.

The moon catches each nuance of highlight in her hair. It glows around her like a halo. But there is something darker inside the ring of light. Something attached to her that he’s never seen before.

“She misses you, Spike.” Cassie’s voice is in his ear. “She is still grieving.” He takes in the sight of his love. She looks so different. Older.

“She looks…what’s happened to her?”

“It’s been nine months...almost a year, Spike. One year since you-“ Cassie watches this information sink into him.

“A year?” The tears that threatened to spill upon seeing her are now falling free. His voice is laced with sadness and love. Still grieving…for me?

“Yes. One year for her. Longer for you.” Much longer for him. He has no sense of time. Could have been hundreds of years. Thousands.

“Why is she here? And alone? S'dangerous.” Spike’s brow wrinkles as he studies her. She looks frail in her grief, but beyond beautiful. Still there’s a sadness that weighs on her shoulders. It hovers about her like a fog dampening her natural glow.

“Like I said, she misses you. She feels…incomplete.” Cassie releases his shoulder and he steps forward. He walks all the way around the bench where she is curled up. He crouches down, leaning against the worn wood, and reaches up to touch her hair. His hand stops short of her.

Buffy’s lips are moving, but he cannot hear her words. She brushes her hair out of her eyes. He notices how red they are from crying and his heart breaks.

“She doesn’ know I'm here, does she?” He is aching to touch her.

“No.”

“Oh Buffy…luv.” Spike hangs his head, unable to stand to be so close to her and not offer comfort. Cassie comes around to him to comfort him. She strokes the nape of his neck and murmurs soothing words. “God. I'm sorry, Buffy. So sorry.”

“Shhhh. Let’s get away from this.” Cassie tries to help him stand.

“No! No.” Spike’s eyes are wild in his outrage. “I don’ want to leave her here like this. Look at 'er!”

“Spike-“ Cassie tries to calm him.

“No! Tell me what you meant, that she was supposed to be with me. I don’ understand. Why am I here? What’s happening?” He is suddenly frantic and rises during his outburst to turn and confront the girl with the secrets.

“Calm down, I’ll tell you everything. Just please…calm down. They’ll think you weren’t ready…that i-it was a mistake.” She lowers her voice as if protecting the conversation from unseen ears.

Realizing suddenly that things are not as they seem to be, Spike looks around. Buffy is still there, but he notices that he cannot hear her. He can’t even smell her or sense her in any way. He feels no breeze. He hadn't even felt the wood of the bench beneath his fingers.

“What’s going on here?” He is more calm, but also more alert. He regards Cassie with caution as he steps back from her.

Cassie’s eyes plead with him silently as the world around them dissolves once more. She turns from him and he follows her gaze to a man sitting at a small table. The surroundings are not unlike the Light. It’s less intense but still soothing.

“Come, young one.” The man’s voice thunders through the space and in Spike’s head. He closes his eyes momentarily until the reverberations die out. “Sorry.” The voice is significantly diminished. “I forget sometimes.”

Cassie walks over to the man and sits across the table from him. They both look at Spike expectantly. He slowly approaches them.

“And you are?” He declines the invitation to sit.

“I am.” The man smiles and it sends shivers over Spike’s skin.

“Look,” he says, his hand on his hip defiantly. “I don’ know what’s going on around here, but I'm done playing games. Not in the mood.”

“Oh really, young one, then what sort of mood are you in, then? Hmm?” The man is small, but he doesn’t give the impression of being small. He has large brown eyes, angular features, luxurious black hair that hangs just above his shoulders, small lines in his face that hint at age. Spike looks him in the eye for a long moment and instantly regrets it.

Life…Death…Birth…Hate…Love..Anger. Joy..War..Peace..Indifference..Humanity..Demons..Pain. Rage.Screaming.Laughing.Cruelty.Kindness.Spirit.Flesh.BoneBloodBileStartFinishMiddleBeginningEndDawnDuskStars EarthDyingLivingPutridAromaticFuryEcstasyRaptureLovinglovinglovingloveloveloveloveloveOVERWHELMINGLOVE!

Spike crumples to the ground, his chest heaving.

“You were right, sweet Cassie. He is ready.” Spike hears the man’s words just before darkness extinguishes the light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Spike!" Buffy had awakened with a start on the park bench. She had struggled to remember where she was...and when. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, but it always leaves her trembling and disoriented; unable to shake the feeling of him surrounding her and still not being able to reach out and touch him.

Her thoughts had been troubled as she walked back from the park. The night seemed too still, and the sounds of everyday nightlife too distant. She'd sat on the bench and let the tears wash over her. No one was around to stop her from falling asleep on patrol. No one there to placate her. No renumerations from Giles as he vacillated between being empathetic and indifferent.

She knows he tries, but she also knows that he will never be able to forgive Spike of all his transgressions, no matter what sacrifices he had made. Talking about...that day...with him and Willow; reliving it again this morning with the Watcher, Richard - it had all come at too great a price to her fragile peace of mind.

She needed to get out; get away from them all. Just for a little while. So she'd decided to go on patrol.

Funnily enough, the streets of London are surprising devoid of much demon activity. You would think, given its violent history, that dark energy would thrive there. That not being the case, Buffy has taken to patrolling on occasion when she needs to regain some sense of self; to recall the normalcy she'd once had. Normalcy that, even on such a strange scale, she had taken for granted all those years in Sunnydale. Normalcy she would give anything to have just a little bit of these days.

But things, though moving towards a new kind of normal, are different now. She can't seem to settle into a routine. Work, research, caring for a nearly-adult Dawn; these things are designed to ease her back into life. But every step she takes towards that leaves her feeling like she's betrayed her past. Betrayed him...by forgetting.

As if she could ever.

Every other thought she has, waking or sleeping, is Spike. Always Spike. She talks to him when she's alone, telling him of her day. Sometimes she can hear his smart-ass commentary on the way she manhandles her hair or neglects to drink water, or chews her food. Cor pet, you're like a bloody cow! Close your mouth, luv. Be the lady that I know you are. She smiles at the way his Victorian tendencies color even her memory of him. My girl, you are. Always and forever, luv.

Yes, baby. Forever.

Buffy slips into her quarters quietly, not wanting to wake the house. She sighs as she pushes the door closed behind her and spies the bed across the room. The time has come for sleeping. And sleeping means dreaming.

Where would her dreams take her tonight? Moaning in ecstasy beneath the cool form of her lover? Screaming in agony as she feels his spirit leave the earth in a fiery blaze? Drowning in regret as she attempts to atone for her treatment of him...before?

She hesitates to find out. But even the most painful dream can bring her closer to him. Her mind's eye hasn't yet forgotten the cadence in his voice or the rhythmic flutter of his eyelashes when he laughed; the coolness of his fingertips as they played against her skin or the impossibly blue depth of his eyes. As long as she has these dreams, she'll have him.

Buffy undresses, her eyes never leaving the bed. She does it slowly, as if he is there watching her. The cotton of her shirt slips over her head and the warm air of the room swirls around her. She tosses the fabric to a nearby chair. Walking towards the bed, she can imagine him there: eyes filled with desire, lips moist and slightly parted as he anticipates her approach. Her touch. She closes her eyes and exhales deeply. "Oh, Spike." She whispers, removing the rest of her clothes. The light touch of her own fingers sends shivers throughout her body, forcing it to remember his ministrations; the way he'd done this very same thing once before, undressing her delicately as if she were a porcelain doll. "I miss you so much."

Her knee hits the bed and she bends it, crawling on top until she can lie down on her side facing the window. Though moonlight streams in through the parted curtains, most of the room is in draped in the black of night. The memory of his crypt, drenched in pitch, comes unbiddingly into her mind. She closes her eyes and remembers the sound of a striking match; the burst of flame and the glow of his skin as he lit the candles that surrounded them, creating a living painting. At moments like that, she always forgot that she wasn't supposed to love him.

Buffy opens her eyes and they rest on the candelabra; the gift from the Watcher. The thin light caresses the curves of the carved figures in the silver. Staring intently at them, Buffy almost thinks she sees them move; undulating beneath her steady gaze. She sits up and edges closer to the nightstand where it rests. The candleholders are desperately empty and the sight sends a shiver of discomfort through her body. They must be filled; the candles must be lit. It looks so...stripped; so lost.

She spins silently off the bed and heads into her bathroom, naked feet padding across the floor. She emerges with two slender tapers. Sitting on the side of the mattress, she steadies the candelabra with one hand while she inserts the candles with the other. She smiles as she strikes the match and lights them, one by one.

The room is instantly filled with a golden glow. The flames dance and cast long shadows on her high walls. She feels...like she's home. Scooting back on the bed, she lays down on her pillows and pulls the duvet over her skin. Buffy closes her eyes briefly and then looks again at the candles. She can almost feel Spike's lips brush against hers as she drifts off into sleep to meet whatever dream may come to relearn her senses of him.

Title: You Still Touch Me – (Chapter 6 of How Many Days)
Disclaimer: Joss doesn’t play with his toys anymore. Someone has to, dammit!
Rating: R
Pairing: Buffy/Spike, Dawn/Other, Willow/Giles, Willow/Other
Summary: Post-Season 7. This is a sequel to ‘Don’t Stop the Dance'
Distribution: Anywhere you like, just let me know.
Feedback: is welcome. ~Xionin (xionin@beautiful-freak.com)
Thank you: Pam and Maribel: my wonderful betas. You're both too wonderful for words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another night finds me alone
In my dreams you still touch me
Your picture by my telephone
In that smile you still thrill me
Now if I sleep, I sleep here alone
In my bed tonight you still haunt me
And if I'm falling, I'm falling like a stone
In my nightmares you still hold me. -Sting

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You Still Touch Me

He's such an attentive lover, Buffy thinks herself the luckiest girl in the world. Every time he touches her it feels like the first time. She trembles at the coolness of his breath against her skin. Her body sings with delight at the soft brushes of his fingertips and the words of desire riding the waves of his lusty baritone. Tonight she lays spread out before him and his blue eyes dance with longing. Moonlight from her window bathes one side of him in silver glory, while the soft glow of the candlelight accentuates the valleys of his features. Sometimes she swears she can see the graceful figures, cast in the silver, straining their necks to see him.

Oh how she's missed his alabaster perfection.

"Let me kiss you." His voice drips over her and she nods imperceptively before his mouth descends on hers in a searing kiss that leaves her breathless. Their tongues circle each other in a languid dance that brings low moans to Buffy's throat and knowing grins to Spike's lips. Breaking the kiss he looks down at her flushed skin and half-lidded eyes.

"Let me touch you." He slides his fingers through her hair, running them down her neck and along her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, over her stomach and resting at the apex of her legs. His nails lightly rake the coarse hairs there sending pleasurable waves through her. He settles himself between her legs.

"Let me taste you." His fingers part her secret folds as his tongue lightly samples her wetness. His moan sends vibrations to her very core. He licks her expertly, sending her into indescribable ecstasy. Her muscles begin to convulse almost immediately, but he slows his ministrations. Alternating between licking and sucking, he knows exactly what she needs and when.

"Spike-" she moans aloud, writhing beneath him. She feels his smile against her flesh.

"Shhhhh, luv." One slender finger slips inside her as his mouth continues its assault. Her eyes are fluttering, and he knows she has only moments left to her. Sensing her impending release, Spike re-doubles his efforts, adding another slim finger to her wet channel, curling to find the spot that will drive her over the edge. The orgasm hits with a force that robs her of precious air, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' as a silent scream scrapes her throat.

Her inner walls are still pulsating when he enters her with long, hard thrusts. Buffy's climax extends itself infinitely, wrapping her up in pleasure so intense and blinding that when he finally cries his release, she only has tears for having been so moved.

"Spike, oh Spike." She whispers, feeling his weight collapse on her in fatigue.

"Quiet, luv. Don't break the spell." The whispered words tickle her where his lips rest against the curve of her neck. They lay in a moist tangle of flesh until he slides out of her and moves to stand.

"No!" She grabs for him desperately as he slides out of the sheets. "Stay, please stay."

"You know I can't, my darling." A sad smile plays on his lips as he brushes the hair back from her face. He is absolutely stunning in his naked form and Buffy sheds fresh tears at the thought of waking up again without him at her side. She nods and closes her eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, Spike." When she opens them, he is gone and she is once again alone in her cavernous room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It has been a month since the dreams changed. Every night since that fateful day in May of last year, she's had dreams of Spike but one month ago, just after Dawn's birthday, the dreams took on a new timbre. They became more and more vivid; more and more fulfilling. Where before she'd awakened to faint memories of his fiery touches and his eloquent declarations of love, she now awakes with more physical evidence of their encounters.

At first she'd been embarrassed, thinking the fingerprints and tiny scratches that covered her body were self-induced. She soon realized that many of them she simply couldn't have done herself. It was then that she began to monitor his appearances in her dreams more closely. She soon discovered that she wasn't always asleep when he came. That could only mean one thing: Spike, in some form, was really there.

Somehow, he had been given back to her and she had resolved to find out how. But when she finally stopped their lovemaking long enough to ask, he'd gotten a hurt look in his eyes.

"Isn't it enough that I'm here, luv?" He'd replied. "Do you have to know how or why? Let's just be thankful for this time. Maybe it's our reward for saving the world." And then he'd smiled and her heart had melted and she'd felt foolish for questioning such an amazing gift.

Having him back at all is a miracle, even if it is only for stolen moments of passion in the middle of the night. Still she misses their talks and their moments of quiet observation where they could hold a conversation without uttering a single word. But he's asked her not to tell anyone of their secret encounters and she has no intention of risking what little they do have left.

During the day, however, it has become increasingly more difficult to concentrate. The lack of sleep has left her listless and easily agitated. Giles, on more than one occasion, has asked her if she was feeling ill, saying that she looks pale and drawn.

She shrugs it off as fatigue, he and Dawn attribute it to her grief, which is a partial truth, after all. None of them really understand what she's been through over the last year. Dawn has the best idea, but even she feels that it is time to move on.

"Spike wanted you to live, Buffy. I know you're not ready for another relationship, but you need to do more than just work.
Go out. Have a little fun. You need it."

"I know Dawn, I-it's just...I'm not feeling up to it. B-but I will. Real soon, I promise."

She hasn't told her about the dreams, but she wonders if she somehow already knows. Dawn has displayed some rather startling insight into Spike over the last year. Everyone assumes that it is an after-effect of the light from the amulet. Willow accredits Dawn's oft-glowing eyes to the moment she'd been hit with the beam. She can't, however, account for the times when the young woman seemed to 'channel' Spike. Nothing that Willow found out from Angel about the amulet has shed any new light on the situation.

Dawn sometimes uses phrases that are identical to his; even snatches of private conversations. Initially, it caused some tension between the sisters, having such intimate moments locked in the younger Summers' memories. But they've learned to work through the episodes and they've become more infrequent, as the year has gone on. The worst example had been earlier in the year at Dawn's birthday party.

Buffy curses the sunlight as it slips through the heavy brocade curtains on her windows. There's no use pretending it's nighttime when the room is bathed in orange, so she groans as she tosses the duvet off and sits up. Her body, naked and still moist from last evening's passion, is covered in love bites and other small abrasions. She winces and smiles, feeling a blush creep up her neck and land on her cheek as she remembers their fierce coupling.

She stands on shaky legs and crosses over the thick oriental rug to her private bath. Turning on the hot water for the shower, she changes her mind and opts for a long, soaking bath to relieve the tensions in her well-used muscles. Slipping into the warm water and bubbles, she recalls the last month and smiles at her secret nightlife. Spike. Back. And only for her; for them. Her days were spent in research and instruction, but her nights...her nights were his. Theirs.

She stretches out her limbs and ignores the tiny alarm in her head that tells her this just isn't right. She doesn't care about 'right.' She doesn't want to be right if it means giving him up. She yawns. She's been missing a lot of sleep and she tells herself that's why she's so tired lately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Going through the course of her day is a chore. Not that she doesn't love her new career, helping slayers rather than being one, she just finds the hours an obstacle to her real life; the one she has with Spike in the cover of darkness. When her evening defense class is cancelled for a field trip, Buffy hurries back to the main house and races up to her suite. When she enters, closing the door behind her, he is already there. The ever-present candles are burning low in the candelabra and the soft Spring breeze billows the sheer white curtains through the heavier ones and into the bedroom, making it seem like a dreamscape.

"You're early, my love." His voice appears behind her as she steps further inside. She closes her eyes and surrenders to his closeness, a smile playing on her trembling lips.

"I missed you so much." Her voice is breathy and labored. Already she is aching with need and he hasn't even touched her yet.

"And I you, pet." He traces a soft fingertip along the back of her neck and it sends shivers down her spine. "Undress for me." His voice is like satin, sliding over her nerves, calming her fears, soothing her pain.

She opens her eyes and turns to him. He is standing barefoot in black jeans and a black shirt that is unbuttoned, the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable. Buffy slowly raises her hands to her blouse and begins freeing the buttons from their hold, her gaze never breaking from his.

"Slowly, luv." He whispers and she can smell the tobacco and a hint of whiskey. She slows her movement to an excruciating pace, enjoying the desire reflected in his eyes as he follows her hands through their task. When she undoes the last button, he reaches out a hand and starting at the hollow of her throat, lightly traces a path down her torso, across her collarbone, down the valley of her breasts; circling her navel and resting on the slight swell of her belly. He does this every time and, each time, it stops her heart for just a second.

"So beautiful."

She smiles as he moves into her space and slips his fingers into the waistband of her skirt, sliding it down over her hips until it drops to the floor. He holds her hands as she steps out of it and then slips the silk of her blouse over her arms and drops it as well. Her nipples respond to the exposure, both to the night air and to his presence. He bends to the right and languidly drags his tongue across the hardened flesh. Buffy's head rolls back as she moans, her hands instinctively reaching out to hold his biceps. He places his hands lightly on her waist and continues his slow assault, soon moving to the left to give equal attention there.

Spike slips his shirt off and quickly shrugs out of his jeans until he is naked before her, his erection bobbing helplessly against her abdomen. His cool hands slide around her and down the curve of her buttocks, kneading the warm flesh. Her arms slip around his back as she presses herself to him. His mouth finds the bend of her neck and he places fervent kisses there, nibbling the soft skin and licking her pulse point.

"Oh...Spike!" Buffy gasps as he brings one hand between them and slips his fingers inside the fabric of her thong to the wet heat there. Quickly he rips away the offensive fabric and grabs her thighs, hoisting her up and down onto his member in one hard thrust. They both cry out as the connection is made, Buffy trembling in his arms as he walks them over to the bed.

Laying her down, he begins to pump into her in slow, measured movements of his hips; grinding his pelvis against her in each downward motion. She clutches at him, her head thrashing back and forth at the maddening pleasure coursing through her. There is no refuge from an onslaught like this, only the waves and waves of ecstasy that only he can bring her.

"Spike..ohgod ohgod ohgod...Spike!" She cries out incoherently.

"Buffy!" Spike quickens his pace as the pleasure overtakes him, the need driving him to the inevitable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn skips up the stairs to Buffy's rooms to tell her the big surprise. She's been accepted into the Linguistics program at the UCL and she cannot wait to share the news with her sister before Colin comes to pick her up for a celebratory dinner. She's worked so hard to make up for the time she'd missed in school over the previous year, working with tutors to make up for being woefully under-educated in the Sunnydale school system. Her work with Giles and Colin had given her a head start and probably saved her another year in secondaries. She knows that her sister will be proud.

And Colin...well, Colin has been amazing. Sweet and kind; gentle and most of all patient. He'd taken her out a few days after her 18th birthday, for that private celebration, and by the end of the evening he'd officially become her first love. Since then, they've been nearly inseparable. And since he belongs to the wild and wacky world of Watchers and Vamps, she feels completely comfortable sharing her life with him. The only thing she hasn't been able to open up to him about is her origins. She'd almost slipped when he'd asked her where she was born.

But Colin is a perfect boyfriend. Dawn would even go so far as to call him her best friend...outside of Buffy, that is. The two of them are the world to her, along with Willow and Giles. Even Richard has worked his way into their little family. She has definite grandpa-type feelings towards him, which is understandable considering the father-figure he is to Colin.

Dawn slows her pace as she muses over the people in her life. A year ago she wondered if she would see the next day, now she's planning a future and she doesn't have to worry so much about her loved ones not returning at the end of the day. Nope. No apocalypses for two hundred and ninety-seven days...and counting. She smiles to herself. Life is...not bad. Not bad at all. She may even be pressed to say it was pretty good.

As she approaches Buffy's door, she is stopped by the sound of moaning. She slows to a crawl and, peeking around first to see if anyone's looking, presses her ear to the door and stifles a giggle.

Buffy has a boyfriend? A lover? And she didn't tell anyone?

"Oh...god...don't stop. Spike...don't stop!"

Dawn's eyebrows knit. Spike? Her heart sinks as she realizes Buffy must be dreaming. She shakes her head at having so easily dismissed her sister's grief. She knows that it will be a long time before Buffy is ever able to date anyone else, let alone make love with them. Dawn starts to turn around and let her be when she hears his voice.

"Shhh...Buffy...quiet, luv."

What the-

Dawn doesn't think twice as she throws open the door and beholds the two figures on the bed. Two blonde heads turn towards her, both with varying expressions of shock on their faces. Spike jumps to his feet and backs away. Buffy covers herself and jumps up between them.

"Dawn!"
 

Dawn glares at the man standing next to her sister, the scowl unmistakable as her eyes flash a brilliant yellow. As Buffy's movements catch her attention, she shifts her focus to her and the blonde gasps. Dawn grits her teeth, shaking her head, and turns back towards the other figure but he has vanished. She storms forward, towards the open window, and looks out but there is no sign of him.

"Who or what the fuck was that?" She turns back to Buffy who is shaking with rage.

"Get out." Buffy's voice is low; a dangerous whisper.

"I want to know Who. That. Was!" Dawn cocks her head, regarding her sibling with no small amount of disgust.

"I said GET OUT!" Buffy screams and grabs Dawn by the forearm and practically throws her towards the door. Dawn stumbles, but catches herself. She spins around and grabs Buffy by the shoulders.

"I don't know who you thought that was, but it wasn't Spike." She keeps her voice steady and calm, as if she's addressing a small child, but her wrath is more than apparent. "Get dressed, Slayer. I want you downstairs in 5 minutes." With that she opens the door and whips out her cell phone.

Buffy can only watch as the door swings closed behind her younger sister. She sinks down onto the floor, exhausted and crying. Spike had fled. Will he ever come back? She'll never forgive Dawn if she's driven him away.

She briefly entertains the idea of slipping out of the window after him, but she has no idea where he's gone. Instead she jumps into a pair of sweatpants and a tank, throws on her robe and sits down to collect herself. She now has to explain how he'd come back, and she doesn't even know the answer. Flying back down the steps to the library, Dawn contacts Giles.

"Rupert get back to the main house. Now. And bring the witch. We have problem. No. It's Buffy. Yes. Right away." She flips the phone shut as she heads for the shelves and scours through them for information, anything, that will tell her just what the hell that was and why it looked so much like Spike. She's trying hard not to wonder just how long it had been fucking her sister.

When no one answers the after-hours bell, Colin lets himself in with his 'emergency' key. He wanders from the parlor to the study before coming to a stop at the threshold to the library. Dawn is hunched over the center table with several thick volumes, her hair hanging haphazardly in her face, fingers pouring over the yellowed pages of obscure texts as she flips through them viciously.

"Dawn?" He moves tentatively into the room, inhaling sharply when she looks up at him. Her eyes are wild, angry and...

Gold.

"Shit-" he mutters. "Not again."

Title: Almost There – (Chapter 7 of How Many Days)
Disclaimer: Joss doesn’t play with his toys anymore. Someone has to, dammit!
Rating: R
Pairing: Buffy/Spike, Dawn/Other, Willow/Giles, Willow/Other
Summary: Post-Season 7. This is a sequel to ‘Don’t Stop the Dance'
Distribution: Anywhere you like, just let me know.
Feedback: is welcome. ~Xionin (xionin@beautiful-freak.com)
Thank you: Pam and Maribel: my wonderful betas. You're both too wonderful for words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As their wings go dark - up against the sun
and their shadows pass - over everyone
and time unfolds - to a beating drum

I throw my clothes on a burning chair
I paint my eyes with the cold night air
the dreamer shouts - to an empty room

and the sun will shine
and the rain will pour
we radiate for evermore
and the world will turn - Andy Summers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

=Almost There=

"Dawn?" Colin approaches her carefully but she only glances up at him, cursorily, before returning to the volumes before her.

"Do you know of any demon that can make itself appear like someone else? Someone...dead?"
The faint smell of decades' past perfumes the air as Dawn opens cover after cover of dusty books, searching.

"What's happened?" Colin's eyes squint and his voice is low and calm. He has been in the presence of Dawn's episodes before, but none of them ever caused him to fear her, or for her. But the anger vibrating through her frame is palpable and he doesn't know how it will manifest itself when it seeks its release. He wants to head off any explosion before it has a chance to build. He just doesn't know how.

"I need to find a demon...something...something that can fool you into thinking it's someone else." She slams shut the book in her hand, pushing it away harshly, apparently not finding what she seeks. Dawn stands up, the chair toppling over from the force of it, and goes to the shelves at the other side of the room, pulling down delicate archives as if they meant nothing to her. Colin rushes to her side to head off any damage.

"Dawn...please-" he crouches down and gathers the texts in his arms, placing them on a nearby table for safe keeping. Turning back to her he follows behind as she walks down the rows, looking at each spine. "Dawn stop." He places a firm hand on her shoulder and she spins around.

Her eyes have gold in them, yes, but they are not glowing; pulsing with the inner light they usually do when she is in this state. Instead, her eyes are only tinged with gold and her normal baby blue can be seen through the layer, making them appear almost green. Bright green. Colin gasps and takes a small step back which he immediately forces himself to regain. She frowns, wondering what could be the cause for such a strong reaction. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open as she imagines what he must be seeing.

"Am I all golden?" She is suddenly pulled out of her wrath as her fear replaces it. Upon hearing the shaky tone of her voice, Colin's protective instincts take over and he takes her arms into his hands pulling her close to him.

"Sorta, yeah." His voice adopts a soft tone, intimate. She squeezes her eyes shut and he feels her tremble against his fingers.
"It's different though." She looks up at him.

"D-different...how? How different?" The panic is beginning to rise in her voice. "Different scary?"

"No. It's-" he takes her face in his hands, the pads of his thumbs caressing her cheeks soothingly.
"Wait...you...you're you."

"Huh?" Her brow crinkles in confusion. He notes how cute it is when she does that before his mind goes back to the matter at hand.

"I mean, normally...when your eyes go...uh...golden, you're not you. But now you are. You, I mean."

"Oh...yeah, I am. What does that mean?" She automatically leans into his touch as he smoothes down her hair, calming her.

"I don't know, but it has to be good...I would think." He attempts a small smile. "Do...do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"Dawn!" Giles' voice interrupts them as he frantically calls from the foyer. He and Willow speed into the room just as Colin clears his throat and stands back from her, not wanting them to find them in an unseemly position. Ever the gentleman. "Oh, there you are. What's this about Buffy?"

Dawn walks past them, ignoring their reaction to her eyes, and closes the door to the library. Turning around she gestures towards the table. "Sit." They all do.

"Dawnie, your eyes...are you-"

"I'm fine. All me. All Dawn. Listen, we have a much bigger problem than my eye color."
She shifts uncomfortably, unsure how to reveal what she had seen without going into detail. "I...shit, I don't know how to say this."

"Dawn." Giles softly reprimands her choice of words.

"Sorry...it's just...it's Buffy."

"Did something happen to her? D' you guys have a-a fight?" Willow's concern with Buffy is seconded by her fear for Dawn.
Her eyes, which have been known to turn gold when she is having an 'amulet moment' are not that color now. Instead
they are a bright green. Green can only mean one thing, and it is not of the good as far as Willow is concerned.

"I...I was going upstairs to tell her...something...and I heard her...with...someone."

"Who?"

"Spike."

"What?" Giles takes off his glasses and eyes the young woman incredulously. Willow stares, mouth agape.
Both of them stare in shocked silence.

"Who is Spike?" Colin looks around the group in confusion.

"Long story, Colin." Willow offers before turning back to Dawn. "You said you heard her with him? H-how?
Some sort of spirit or ghost?"

"No, it's not a ghost. I mean...it could be but...Giles, can ghosts...um...make themselves solid?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, can a ghost make itself...touchable."

"No, not to my knowledge. Wait, are you saying you touched it? Er, Spike?"

"No, not me..."

"Buffy did?" Willow asks.

"Yes...she really did." Dawn wrings her hands in nervous frustration.

"Dawn, I'm sorry...I don't understand." Giles scratches his head. "You heard Buffy with Spike...how do you know she touched the...Spike?"

"I...saw them."

"You actually saw Spike?" Willow shouts inadvertently. "Sorry..." she lowers her voice. "You saw Spike. You actually saw him?" Dawn nods.

"Who is Spike? Why would he be a ghost, is he dead?" Dawn's sudden glare makes Colin very sorry to have asked the question.
"I'm sorry, but I want to help and I don't understand what's going on."

"That makes two of us, Colin," Giles says without taking his eyes off of Dawn. "You say you saw Spike?"

"I did. I heard them in her room. Well...I didn't know it was him at first, but then I heard his voice. That's when I opened the door and..."

"And?" Dawn looks at Willow imploringly. "What? Dawn?"

"They were...they were having..." She blushes furiously.

"Oh dear lord." Giles shakes his head half in disbelief, half in disgust. "I don't understand this. Dawn, are you absolutely sure you saw this?
It wasn't just another of your...er...episodes?"

"No!" Dawn's embarrassment turns quickly into anger as she rises from the table and glowers over the older man.
"It was Spike, it even smelled like him." She holds out her arm in Willow's direction to stop the woman's next question.
"Don't ask how I could smell him. The point is, he...or something doing a very good impersonation of him...was there. In bed. With Buffy."
She pauses a moment to allow them all to absorb the information.

"You think it's a demon or do you think it really could be a-a haunting?" Willow asks Giles.

"Thing is...I know that nothing about that...thing...was Spike. It just wasn't."

"Dawn, how can you know that?" Willow eyes her closely.

"It wasn't." She begins pacing in a small circle, recalling every detail. "For one thing, it didn't even recognize me.
I looked into its eyes, and there wasn't even a flicker of a connection. And Spike and I were connected...somehow.
We had a bond. With that thing there was nothing. And then it fled. Spike would never run away. Not like that. Not from us."

"Dawn...where is Buffy now?" Giles asks, trepidation lowering his voice. Dawn turns away exasperated.

"I left her in her room I had to get away from her, I..."

"What." Willow uses a tiny part of her will to make Dawn face her fully. "You what? Finish that."

"I couldn't...I couldn't stay in the same room with her, I was...angry. I was...it hurt." Colin stands and moves towards her. Willow shakes her head imperceptibly, making short eye contact with him. He retreats, against his instincts. Giles rises as well. They are all watching Dawn struggle with the emotions playing out across her features.

"I was...I felt jealous. Oh...god. Oh god. I felt betrayed! Like she...like she betrayed me. Oh god...Willow!"
Dawn doesn't fight the tears as they come and this time Colin steps up and wraps his arms around her,
turning her to him and holding her; letting her cry into his chest.

"What the hell is going on?" Colin's anger and protectiveness makes Willow smile inwardly. Colin so obviously loves her and she's going to need all the love and support she can get. And very soon, from the looks of things. She steps away from the group and closes her eyes, extending her essence outward. They all feel it and turn to her. Dawn's tears slowly come to a stop as Willow's spirit fills the room, spilling out under the cracks of the doors.

Giles moves over to the doors and opens them. A soft breeze of an exhale leaves the room. It is Willow's power. She sends it throughout the house, seeking, searching for Buffy and for any trace of Spike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upstairs Buffy sits curled up on the floor, her flesh still tingling from the feel of his hard body over her.

What had just happened? For the past month she's lived in a comfortable medium. Her days filled with purposeful duty; her work with the council and caring for Dawn. And her nights with a passion she'd long thought lost from her forever.

Buffy's never been a fan of cowardice and suicide, to her, is the coward's way out. She never really understood that kind of despair, even during the year after she'd returned from the grave. She was depressed, yes. More than a little bitter, surely. Never suicidal, though, never that.

But he is gone. And she doesn't know if he's coming back. And if he doesn't come back...
What point is there in going on?

Now she understands how someone would just want to lay down and give up; to not have to deal with a pain that is so strong it leaves a thick, foul taste on your tongue. So heavy it weighs you down like a ton of bricks; bricks with sharpened nails embedded in them that slice you open...forcing you to bleed, to feel weak and useless.

And she is so very weak.

The moments without him are an empty void, tolerable only because of the love she feels for her friends and family. She lives for those hours in the dark night when he comes to her; lays her out like so much malleable clay and molds her into the woman she was when he was alive.

His touch...god, his touch. She cannot live without it.

So she sits on the floor of her room, not wondering how to explain herself...and him...to Dawn and the others, but hoping against hope that he will return to her. The candles are waning, though, and she knows he won't be back. Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

And that...that she simply cannot live with. She is so tired. So very, very tired.

A slow, strangled tear slips down her cheek; a last gasp at emotion before she becomes numb. Suddenly an energy, one filled with love and compassion, envelopes her. She raises her head from her knees.

"Spike?" She whispers.

"No, Buffy. It's me. Willow."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

Title: Hungry for You - Chapter 8 of How Many Days
Disclaimer: Joss doesn't play with his toys anymore. Someone has to, dammit!
Rating: R
Pairing: Buffy/Spike, Dawn/Other, Willow/Giles, Willow/Other
Summary: Post-Season 7. This is a sequel to 'Don't Stop the Dance'
Distribution: Anywhere you like, just let me know.
Feedback: is welcome. ~Xionin (xionin@beautiful-freak.com)
Thank you: Maribel: the most amazing beta in any universe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rien de dormier cette nuit
Je veux de toi
Jusque'a` ce que je sois sec
Mais nos corps sont tout mouille's
Comple'tement couvert de sueur
Nous nous noyons dans la mare'e
Je n'ai aucun de'sir
Tu as ravage' mon coeur
Et mois j'ai bu ton sang
Mais non pouvons faire ce que nous voulons
J'aurais toujours faim de toi. -Sting
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow, Willow…he's gone.

I know sweetie.

He was here and now he's…he's…

It wasn't him.

YES! Yes, it was, he-

No, sweetheart. It wasn't your love. It wasn't your heart, Buffy.
It wasn't your Spike.

How can you SAY that? You don't know! You weren't here! You didn't see him!
Touch him! FEEL him!

And did you?

…

Yes. He was…everywhere.

Did he tell you he loved you?

Yes…yes, always.

He lied. He…that…wasn't capable of loving you.

LIAR!

No, Buffy, you know it.

NO! Spike loved me! Spike…I was his world. He was mine!

Yes, Buffy. You are right: you and Spike shared a love beyond measure, but that - the one
that was with you - that wasn't Spike.

No, i-it…h-h-he…It was him. I felt-

Alone. You felt alone and then he came to you.

Yes, so alone.

You were grieving for him, for Spike, and then he came.

Yes! God, yes. He came back to me.

No.

No?

No.

Yes, he did.

No.

But-

No.

He came to me, loved me-

No.

Why? Why do you keep saying 'no'?
Are you trying to hurt me? Trying to kill me?

No, Buffy. But, I believe that deep down, you know the truth.

The…truth?

The truth. It wasn't Spike. It isn't Spike.

Spike. Spiiikkke.

Shhhh. Buffy, I need you to tell me.

Wh-what?

Tell me when he first appeared.

I-I dunno.

How long has he…have you… How long?

A mo-month? Six weeks? I-I don't know.
He…I love him so much, Willow and it hurt.

I know, Buffy. I know.
But…when he comes, is it only at night?

Yes.

Tell me about the first night, Buffy.

I'm cold, Willow.

Where are you?

On the…the floor. I'm lying on the floor.

Get up, get into bed. Get warm.

But he's not there. No one's there.
It's so empty.

Buffy.

Ok.

…

Now tell me.

I lit the candles. I love the candles so much. I lit them and I was watching them dance.
I…I was sleepy, and beginning to dream. Of him. Always of him, Willow…

Buffy dozed peacefully between the glowing warmth of her room and the familiar reminiscence of her dreams where he would meet her; smirking, joking. Loving.

The billowing of the curtains met her lazy gazes when her eyes did occasionally open. She vaguely remembered closing the window before turning in, but seeing it open didn't alarm her. She was only mildly curious as she laid waiting for sleep to claim her.
The dancing light of the candelabra, a now-necessary part of her evening, lulled her. She watched the figures in the silver wink and laugh at her, occasionally blowing her kisses, which made her laugh. She felt almost giddy.

Her dream pulled her under, promising his smile, his touch. She welcomed it with open arms. It began simply enough with his voice saying her name. Buffy. Then a soft caress.

Mmmmm he's touching me, my hair.

He loved your hair, Buffy.

Loves.

Yes, loves.

The touch traveled down, fluttering across her eyelids. She felt breath tickling her skin; could almost make out words in the murmurings. The sheet peeled slowly away from her, revealing the dusty rose of her nipples to the night's breezes. She gasped. She could feel the tongue - his tongue - making wide circles around her sensitive flesh.

Oh, Spike.

Her body responded to his hands and mouth; her back arched. Moans escaped her throat. It had never been like this. Never so very real to her. Light kisses on her stomach and lower.

Ohhhh.

Concentrate, Buffy. Open your eyes. What do you see?

Spike.

You see him?

Yes…and n-no. He's…there, but not there.

Can you…can you see through him?

Yes! Like a window. But it's him. It's him.

No, but…continue. Look around the room. What else do you see?

Strong fingers parted her legs and they complied willingly. Buffy's head rolled to the side, her eyes opened slowly to the vision of the candelabra. The silver-carved faces had changed. They were observing her; observing them. Hungry eyes feasted on their lovemaking. Their mouths slack with desire, lust and…darker things. Buffy wanted to look harder, but he had found her wanting. He lowered himself between her velvet thighs and lapped at her juices. "J'aurais toujours faim de toi." She cried out at the soujd of his voice, shutting her eyes. Her mind hadn't processed the other tiny voices she'd heard, all crying out with her.

Buffy?
Buffy.

…

Buffy, it's ok. Rest now. Sleep deeply and let nothing disturb you until you hear my voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They avoid Willow as she stands in the doorway, working her magic.

Colin had been the one to ask why she simply hadn't gone to Buffy, rather than choosing to communicate with her this way. Dawn had calmly explained that her sister probably would have run away, had anyone gone near her.

Since that exchange over an hour ago, they'd silently resumed their research. No one knows what to look for, but keeping busy is better than doing nothing. At the very least, it calms Dawn down and her episode subsides; her eyes resuming their peaceful blue, much to Colin's relief.

The pair sits close: Dawn seeking comfort and reassurance; Colin a bit of the same. It does not go unnoticed.

"Er…Colin." Giles removes his glasses and addresses the younger man in a hushed tone. "Why don't you and Dawn go for a walk? I'm sure she could use some fresh air, and I believe we all could use a break. Willow will have more information when she…is finished, I'm sure."

Colin didn't respond, simply made eye contact with Dawn who smiled in relief. He turned back to the Watcher and nodded, smiling. The two of them slipped out of the side door leaving Giles to observe Willow.

He allows his eyes to follow the lines of her face. Her eyes are closed, and there is a hint of a smile on her lips, although her brow is creased. He wonders what is happening in that fascinating mind of hers.

Realizing that he has stopped mere inches from her face, his hands hover in front of him as if to touch her. He mentally chastises himself and walks determinedly away and back over to the table. His growing affection for Willow is becoming a problem. When they'd received the urgent call from Dawn, they had been having dinner at a nearby bistro. He had finally gotten up the nerve to confront her on their newfound attraction. That, or confirm that it was all just in his age-addled mind; for how could a creature so advanced, so exquisite as her ever, ever want...him?

Fatigue overwhelms him suddenly, as he plops down into the chair and he doesn't even attempt to stifle the yawn. He decides to rest his eyes for a moment and leans his head on his arm, which rests on the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You alright?" Colin wraps an arm around Dawn as they stroll the rear grounds. The night sky is waning as daybreak threatens. The city is asleep, as even the birds haven't stirred. It is an eerie silence that makes Dawn uncomfortable. She huddles closer.

"Yeah…I-I'll be fine, thanks." She offers a tiny smile.

"No need to thank me, Dawn. I don't need an excuse to want to be close to you." That earns a genuine smile and Colin returns it. They walk in peace for a few minutes before coming to a stone bench at the edge of the rose garden. "This is a beautiful place, even at night."

"It is. Giles and Willow - they wanted it to be serene, rejuvenating. They wanted it to be lovely."

"They succeeded." He responds, looking her directly in the eye. Dawn blushes, ducking her head. "Was that…am I being too forward?"

"Are you serious?" Dawn laughs.

"Yes, quite."

They study each other for a few moments before he leans in to place a gentle kiss on her lips. He pulls back and searches her eyes for any sign that he is stepping over his boundaries, but Dawn merely smiles. Her lips part in invitation and he lowers his mouth to hers once more.

This time they are barely touching. Their lips slide against one another's in a butterfly kiss. Colin lifts his hand into Dawn's thick hair and pulls her closer. The kiss slowly deepens, tapping into a desire that Dawn didn't know she had. Her tongue moves tentatively to meet his and he gently circles it with his own. She wraps her arms around his neck as he envelops her waist.

This, she thinks. This is what it feels like.

Dawn's head is spinning when the kiss ends just as gently as it began. It isn't that they've never kissed before, it's that he has never shown her how he really felt. Sometimes, being younger, her insecurities all but convinced her that she was just a child trying to win the affections of a man. But over the last few months, since her party, Colin has never treated her like anything but a lady. And his increasing devotion to her has manifested itself in only the best of ways.

He has become her best friend, but aside from a few chaste kisses and looks of longing, he hadn't really expressed interest in anything more.

Until now.

"Dawn." Just the one word says everything she needs to hear right now, and she gives him a glowing smile, her eyes fluttering with relief. She remembers the heartbreak of her schoolgirl crush on Xander. He laughs softly, shaking his head.

"We're both pretty silly, if you ask me." He runs his fingers through her hair.

"Why do you say that?" She closes her eyes and leans into his touch.

"I've been bloody terrified of telling you…"

"What?" Her eyes open half-lidded into his; a pale blue that holds the key to his heart.

"Dawn…you do realize that I'm in love with you. Don't you?" He holds his breath, waiting for her to run. She blinks and then her smile illuminates the night.

"I love you too, Colin," she replies quietly.

"You do?"

"Yeah." She wraps her arms around him and they hold each other.

"Thank God." He whispers and they both laugh. "I'd have felt a right fool, mooning after you that way I've been if you didn't-"

"But I do, silly. I mean, duh - I made it pretty obvious." Colin feigns deep-thought for a moment.

"Yes, actually, you did." Dawn pulls back from him in mock offense.

"Are you saying I was obvious?" She laughs incredulously.

"Well I'm not blind, you know." He winks, smiling and pushing a stray hair out of her eyes. She giggles before they both fall silent again.

"I love you."

"I love you too." They sit and he pulls her into his lap. She rests her head on his shoulder, yawning.

"Knackered?" She nods. "Have a siesta." He cradles her in his arms, running smooth circles on her back. She soon dozes off, exhausted from the day. Colin alternates between watching her and watching the lightening sky. He silently thanks whoever is responsible for bringing this girl to him from across the sea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Rupert."

Willow lays a gentle hand on his arm and squeezes. He surfaces from a black and dreamless sleep, the kind only true exhaustion can provide, to the sight of her ice blue gaze. He has a sudden and strong urge to kiss her and this makes him jump back from her touch. She only smiles, though. He fumbles to replace his glasses and clear his throat.

"Did you…er…were you able to glean any information?" He stammers nervously, trying to quell his awareness of her slim figure beneath the gossamer fabric of her white peasant top. He is annoyed at this strange wave of lust, not that it is new, but that it chose this moment to manifest itself.

"Yes, and we're gonna need to act quickly." She sighs, sinking into a chair. Giles straightens up in concern.

"What is it?"

"I think…I'm pretty sure it's an incubus."

"An in-…I haven't heard of one so strong in a very long time, are you sure?"

"No, not 100%, but I think it's tied to that." She points to the candelabra that she retrieved from Buffy's quarters after the girl had fallen to sleep.

"It's exquisite." Giles traces the carvings with his fingertips. Noting the warmth, he looks up at Willow for confirmation.

"Yeah, it's warm…almost human warm. You know? 98.6?"

"How odd."

"Yeah, but that's not all. Did you get a look at the carvings?"

"Yes, they're quite extraordinary in their detail."

"Look again." Giles frowns a bit but he takes another look, adjusting his glasses, and is surprised to find that the figures have changed. Or, more accurately their faces have changed. Instead of being angelic and graceful as they were a moment ago, they are now menacing.

"This is an enchanted piece. And you believe that this is the talisman for an incubus?" Willow nods. "Well, where did it come from? Was it something she purchased somewhere?"

"I dunno...but the creature is almost definitely attached to it, somehow."

Colin and Dawn enter the room and approach the table, taking seats near the object. Dawn stares intently at it, frowning. She feels an unidentifiable twinge in her stomach. She almost wants to label it 'wrath'. They all study the candelabra while Willow recounts what Buffy told her.

"It's the only thing I can connect to all of the occurrences. She said that she lit it the first night he…it…appeared to her and every night since then."

"So, you think the candlelight attracts the thing? Well, this specific candlelight?"

"Yes, I think the incubus uses it, but how I don't know."

"I believe I do."

"You've seen this piece before?"

"Uh, no. But if you're talking about a creature attached to candlelight, I believe we may be dealing with a liderc demon."

"A liderc?" Giles removes his glasses in shock. "Are you…there hasn't been a substantiated case in centuries."

"It's just a theory, sir."

"Wait, somebody please explain to me what this lee-" Dawn turns away from the object to focus on the conversation.

"Liderc. It's…well, it's an old Hungarian wives' tale, really, although there a-are cases documented in France and Spain.
The liderc is an incubus that preys on widows, using their grief to obtain their life essence in order to sustain itself."
Giles strains to pull the facts from his memory.

"Yes, Mr. Giles, that's partially true." Colin shifts uncomfortably. "A liderc is no ordinary incubus, though. The liderc is able to travel through fire. The smallest flame can be a conduit. If this silver piece is truly a home to one of these things, then it must be very strong indeed."

"I don't understand." Dawn frowns in confusion. "What does it do, run around sleeping with lonely women?"

"Well, it uses the woman's despair to win its way into her heart and her bed. It usually comes to her in dreams and seduces her, in the guise of her lost loved one."

"So…it's just a sort of a horny demon? Chatting up grieving widows?"

"No, Dawn. The liderc…it's very...dangerous." Giles offers, looking to Willow and Colin for help explaining.

"Yes." Colin supplies. "It will continue to…tap into the woman's life force until there is...nothing left of her. And then it moves on." Dawn's mouth drops open in disbelief.

"So, this thing that's been…with Buffy…it's slowly killing her? That's why she's been so tired and withdrawn?"

"Yes." Willow sighs, deep in thought.

"But we've stopped it, right? We can melt this thing down and it'll be dead, right?"

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple." Giles replies.

"This one…Dawn, you saw it." Colin shakes his head, clearly disturbed.

"I-I don't understand."

"You saw it." Willow fills in. "It was strong enough to appear solid to you."

"I take it that's not supposed to happen."

"No, it isn't." Giles' voice is grim. "It ususally only appears to the...the victim."

"So…i-it's strong. So what? How do we kill it before it kills Buffy?"

The silence is deafening as Dawn looks around the room.

"I…have an idea." Willow says finally. "We can't take the chance of destroying the candelabra and having it not work. We need to get it back here and…trap it, somehow."

"How do we do that?" Giles studies the object more closely.

"Buffy." Willow meets each set of eyes, noting their apprehension.

"You want to use her…as a lure?" Colin looks at Willow with concern.

"We have to, it's her that it wants."

"Wait, you're gonna use Buffy as bait? Didn't you just say that this thing is killing her?" Dawn's voice rises. Colin places a hand on her back in an attempt to keep her calm.

"We may have to, if we want to save her Dawn." Giles addresses the young girl, but his eyes rest firmly in Willow's in an unspoken communication.

This has to work.
 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

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