Buffy woke first, stirring slightly and mumbling sleepily as her eyes drifted slowly open.  At the feeling of the cool, firm flesh under her cheek and the arm banded tightly around her, she couldn’t suppress the elated grin that shaped her lips.  It hadn’t all been a dream—he was real, and he was here, and he was her mate.  She had an urge to sob with joy and relief, but she contented herself with a small silent prayer of thanks to whoever had sent him back to her and another silent promise to him and to herself to love him the way he deserved.

She snuggled closer, burrowing her head even further into his shoulder, and giggled softly at the little snorts and snuffles that he gave as he curled himself around her.  His arm tightened, and he murmured a soft “love you” that had her peeking up to see if he was awake; head tossed back, eyes tightly closed, a small smile etched onto his face, the arm and leg not encumbered by her splayed widely across the bed—oh, he was most definitely still asleep… and he just looked so happy.  He looked so boyish like this, so peaceful and calm, absent all the frenetic energy that characterized him in his waking hours.  She had had a few opportunities to see him like this before the end of Sunnydale, memories that she had clung to ever since, but now she could truly take him in and savor the sight as the blessing it was.  She slid one hand across his chest and grasped the hand that he had flung off to his side; linking her fingers carefully with his, she let her eyes drink him in for a few more moments before tucking herself back against him and surrendering to her drowsiness again. 

The first sensation Spike felt upon stirring was warmth.  He felt heated, inside and out, and it took him a moment to realize why:  he had Buffy draped over the right half of his body, looking every inch the well-ravished woman.  As well she should; kiss-swollen lips, bed-ravaged hair, luminous glow to her skin, and… He reached up with the arm banded around her waist to tenderly move her hair off of her shoulder and couldn’t help the possessive masculine grin.  She was wearing his mark, would wear it for the rest of her life… and an exquisite one it was at that.  He brought his hand up to his own neck, ghosting his fingers across her bite there; felt like his girl had made a hell of a mark on her own, even without fangs.

The claim was the glow he felt on the inside, this unbelievable feeling that burned inside him with love and gratitude and tenderness and joy.  His little Slayer had taken him as her mate, had tied the rest of her eternity to him… tears of thanksgiving burned his eyes, and he blinked desperately to hold them back.  He’d meant everything he had told her; he had believed far more of Angel’s bollocks than he’d ever intended to even let himself hear, so the fact that she’d come back for him, that she loved him… those were miracles.  This was something else entirely… this was every bloody dream and fantasy he’d ever had come true, and he was still reeling from the fact that any of it had happened at all. 

He well remembered the few nights in Sunnydale when she had allowed him to hold her as she slept; sadly, they had only come about when she was emotionally devastated or terrified.  He couldn’t even remember now having nights when he didn’t ache to hold her, an ache that demon, man, and soul shared down to the very core of their essences.  That may well be why the three nights in his entire existence when he’d slept with what could only be described as utter peace had been spent in her arms.  But this night—he’d never sleep that well again, he was sure of it.  The peace, the contentment, the joy… it was nothing short of incredible, and he was staggered by the blessing.  Only weeks before he’d been incorporeal and running from hell itself… Buffy stirred slightly and blinked sleepily at him as her lips curved into a languorous smile, and he was completely overwhelmed.  He traced her face lightly with his fingers as his chest began to shake with a mixture of laughter and sobs as he realized just how amazing his world had become.

Buffy watched for a moment, confused as he simultaneously smiled and sobbed, before she quickly scooted up the bed until their faces were even.  Wiping his tears gently, she kissed his brows, his cheekbones, his nose, and his chin, dusting his face with delicate caresses until he stilled.  She pulled back and smiled at him, once again reaching one hand down to link with his, and pressed a final kiss to his lips before she placed her head on the pillow next to him.

“’m sorry, luv… I’m sure you’re thinkin’ I’m a right ponce, with all the tears, but… it’s just so much, Buffy,” he murmured, still overcome but trying with everything in him to present a strong front.

“You don’t have to do this with me, Spike… pretend you don’t feel when I know that you do, or pretend not to feel strongly.  I love your heart, Spike, and the way you feel everything so much… I admire that in you, and so many times since you’ve been… gone… I wished that I’d been able to be like that, just once.  To just tell you how I felt because it was how I was feeling and leave the rest of the world on their own.”

“You’re doin’ it now, luv,” Spike said, giving Buffy a boyish smile so joyful that it melted her heart all over again.

“I am,” she agreed, returning the smile in kind, “and I will continue to do it for the rest of our linked existences, hubby.”

“Hubby?” Spike asked, scarred eyebrow raising teasingly.

“Well, yeah,” Buffy answered playfully, shifting until she was stretched out atop him.  “I don’t figure that telling every random stranger who notices our big idiot grins that we just got mated is going to go over so terribly well, you know?  So I figured since, ritually speaking, we’re now married all vampily ever after, that makes you my hubby,” she finished, smiling brightly and laughing out loud at the bemused expression on his face.  “Oh, come on, Big Bad… you can be my mate, but you’re gonna go all commitment-phobe over the word hubby?”

Spike growled playfully and rolled her beneath him, running his tongue along his mark teasingly.  “Not hardly, slayer.  Just a bit surprised… since that’d make you my wife, then, wouldn’t it?”  He chuckled for a moment, then took her mouth in a kiss that left her breathless before asking, “So I guess this means you’ll be wantin’ a ring, then, luv?”

“Nope.  Got this nice little bite mark going on… plus I’ve still got a lovely little skull ring from the last time around… unless you want to buy me something shiny,” Buffy finished, the glazed look in her eyes making it clear that despite her words, shiny things would be most definitely welcomed.

“Right then, gorgeous.  Sparkly baubles on order for Mrs. the Bloody as soon as we get all this other mess straightened out,” he chuckled, ducking his again to trace tender little kisses and nips down her throat.

Buffy pressed her head deeper into the pillow, exposing her throat to Spike’s delicate caresses.  She gave over to the passion for a moment, losing herself in the feeling of his lips, teeth, and tongue against flesh now made forever sensitive by their joining.  Reluctantly coming back to herself, she raised her head and pressed a lingering kiss to her mark against his throat before pulling back.  “Deal.  Work now, glittery goodness later.  Now up, Mister.  We need to go and get showered so we can make with the jumpy and find out just how much we need to kick Angel’s ass.”

“Well, I’m all for the brutalizin’ of Peaches, luv, but I thought there were other ways we could… well… ease into the day,” Spike murmured seductively, the tip of his hardness brushing against her slickened folds; it was more than apparent how both of them would rather spend their day. 

Buffy arched upwards into him briefly, then groaned slightly as she pulled away and wiggled up the bed out of his grasp.  She added this moment to the very long list of reasons why it sucked to be the Slayer.  “No, Spike… we really need to go…” she whimpered, her protest coming out as much more of a plea than she would have preferred due to her own rampaging lust.  God, she would gladly give Angel a second ass-kicking just for leaving her like this…

“I know, luv.  Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though,” he sighed disappointedly, and the tone of his voice made her reach down and turn his face up towards her.  She burst into giggles at the outrageously pronounced pout that had jutted out his lower lip, and she crooked her finger at him, luring him up the bed.

“Look at that lip… gonna get it,” she teased, nibbling it gently before slowly deepening the kiss into a soft, loving caress.  He pulled back first, giving her a smile that was somehow both heated and shy as he stood.

“So I’ll drop you by the Watcher’s, then, and see you when we come by for the debriefing, yeah?” he asked as he rummaged through the dresser, pulling out the ubiquitous t-shirt and jeans before turning back to her.

“Um, that would be a world of NO, Spike.  Where you go, I go, remember?” Buffy reminded him, annoyance slipping into her tone.

“Buffy, we don’t know how this thing is gonna work.  I’m gonna go with Blue just to be another set of eyes, but I don’t want you in this if we’re not sure… and we decided last night that we didn’t need Angel suspicious.  You show up, suspicious is the least of what he’s gonna be, luv, an’ you know it!”

“I know all that, Spike, and I don’t care!” Buffy argued back, jumping out of the bed and wrapping herself in the sheet.  “You don’t get to decide what’s safest for me, Spike, and you don’t usually try—that’s part of the reason I fell in love with you.  But the same goes for me—I don’t get to make decisions for you.  You think I’m all happy about you going with Illyria when we don’t know if this will work?  I’m not, but it’s what we need to do.  That doesn’t mean I’m not going to be there while you do it, Spike… I just got you back and I’m not losing you again!  I can’t be miles away from you while you do this, wondering where you are and when you’re going to make it back.  So if Angel gets suspicious… hell, even if Angel comes in all damage-bound, I could give a damn, Spike.  You’re not doing this without me.  Now get your undead ass in the shower before you ruin my happy day!” she finished, stomping her foot and looking for all the world like a very angry five-year-old.

“Buffy…” he started, his tone a mixture of annoyance and resignation; her raised eyebrow and the determined set of her chin, however, told him that he’d be better off saving his words and his breath for other arguments in which he stood a chance.  “Fine,” he ground out, jaw tense.  “But ’m not trying to make decisions for you, Buffy.  ‘ve never done that, and now isn’t the time I’d start.  I was just tryin’ to stick to the bloody plan and save you what is gonna be a soddin’ nasty confrontation with Peaches when the time comes ‘round.  He’s not gonna be there today, but he’s the head of the firm, Buffy, an’ every eye in that place belongs to him.  I don’t want to be apart from you any more than you do from me… hell, I don’t want to leave this soddin’ room, Peaches and the fate of the world be damned… but ‘s what I have to do.  You want to be there, so be it.  But the bitchy princess routine is puttin’ a hell of a damper on my soddin’ happy day, too, so can you drop it, please, and come here and kiss me?” 

Buffy just gaped at him for a minute, racing to follow him around the bends of his argument until she processed his last request.  Grinning mischievously, she tucked the sheet around her and crawled seductively across the bed, snickering to herself as she watched his eyes widen and his adam’s apple bob as he fought to swallow.  Standing on the other side, she took the remaining steps towards him as predatorily as possible before untucking the sheet and opening her arms, wrapping them and the sheet around him.  She tipped her head up just as his lips crashed down on hers, and she found herself grateful for her hold on him as she felt herself melt in his arms.  Gods, but that man could kiss.

Spike raised his head and cocked his eyebrow at her, smirking at the breathless lust written in every aspect of her features.  Good enough for her—playin’ that game with the master himself.  Leaning down and giving her one last tiny kiss on the tip of her nose, he said, “shower, Goldilocks.  Wanna come with?”

Buffy’s wide-eyed nod was his only reply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Walking into Wolfram & Hart during working hours was a gauntlet that neither Buffy nor Spike was particularly eager to walk; steeling themselves in the elevator on the way to the executive floor, they gripped hands and drew deep breaths as the door opened onto the bustle of activity typical of the firm.

Not more than two steps out of the elevator, however, a resounding screech halted them both in their tracks.  Turning towards the noise, they rolled their eyes simultaneously as they saw Harmony barreling towards them.

“WHAT are you doing?  You know that’s the Slayer, you freak!  I thought you were past all that twisted obsession… and you know that Bossie is so gonna kick your ass when he finds out!” Harmony finished, managing to look petulant and tremendously pleased with herself all at once.  Just before she turned to flounce away, she looked at Buffy and added cattily, “I guess this is what you’re stuck with, Blondie Bear.  I hope she’s good enough after the taste of me you just had.”

She hadn’t made it further than a half-step away before she found herself slammed face down against her own desk, Buffy’s hand fisted tightly in her hair.  Spike had released Buffy’s hand as soon as Harmony had affected her best Sunnydale bitch look, having a feeling that nothing good would come from this; besides, those hands had just been reattached, thanks ever so, and he didn’t fancy losing them again due to a bloody catfight.  He simply stood back and watched his love work, cocky smile on his face; he might be a master vampire in his own right, but it still did a man good to watch women fight over him.

Buffy bent to look her in the eye, smiling sweetly as she threatened her in a low, cold voice.  “Harmony, do you need a little refresher course on what the Slayer is?  ‘Cause it seems like you might have forgotten just what I’m capable of and how well I can kick your ass.  Spike told me about what happened with you, and believe me when I say that I’m a thousand times better on my worst night than you could ever be.  But if you step within fifty feet of my mate,” she paused for effect, suppressing a laugh at the ditzy vamp’s widened eyes, “I will make you pray for a quick death.  I’ve been retired for almost a year, Harm… I might have forgotten a lot.”

Letting go of Harmony’s head, she backed up and again linked her fingers with Spike’s, taking in his grin and snorts of ill-concealed laughter as she tugged him towards Wesley’s office.  Both of them heard Harmony’s muttered “Bitch,” but it was Buffy who turned around and gave her a glare that had Angel’s secretary whimpering and darting for the cover of her desk.

“Oh, and Harmony,” Buffy sang out cheerily, “if Angel calls and you feel the need to tell him anything about me, don’t .  I want it to be a surprise.  You get me?”

As she turned back towards Spike, and Wesley’s office, she couldn’t fight her laughter anymore.  Illyria had watched the entire scene with her head cocked, clearly intrigued at the show of strength although ignorant of the motive behind it; Lorne, Gunn, and even Wesley, however, were flushed and snickering, as much at the conceited air surrounding Spike, as at the interchange between Buffy and Harmony.  Buffy’s giggles grew as she took in Spike’s expression, and she shook her head as she dragged him forward towards the office.

“Come on, Big Bad Egomaniac.  We have work to do.”

The light mood lasted only a few moments longer before remembrance of the task that lay ahead dampened out the laughter, and mouths so recently curved into smiles reshaped themselves into serious lines. 

“How do we do this, then?  Blue and I head in, ‘n the rest of you follow?  Or united front all the way?”

“Perhaps it would be best if Buffy and I accompanied you and Illyria now, and Charles and Lorne might follow in a few moments?  My attendance at these sessions is normal, and Buffy would logically not want to be separated from you, so our presence would be the least suspicious.  Charles and Lorne, however… Perhaps you should go to your offices, make an appearance, and then join us in the testing laboratory,” Wesley suggested, and Gunn and Lorne nodded in agreement.  They left Wesley’s office first, leaving the remaining four to their determined silence.

“Shall we go, then?”  Spike’s voice seemed to break the spell, and as one, they moved to exit, Spike and Buffy in the lead with Illyria and Wesley following.  The procession was silent and fairly grim; although Buffy and Spike initially tried to break the oppressive pall with a few playful whispers that fell strangely flat, they soon resigned themselves to undertaking what seemed to inevitably be a somber mission walk accompanied by only the muffled sounds of their footfalls on the lush carpeting.  

The banging of the doors behind them echoed through the testing lab, and the four of them watched each other closely.  It was Buffy that broke first from the silence, turning to Spike and murmuring, “Be careful, please.”

He reached up to cradle her cheek in his hand, brushing the fingers of his other hand tenderly against his still-livid mark and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.  “I will, luv.  Got you to come back to, don’t I?”

She nodded, smiling at him with misty eyes before pulling herself together and crossing to face Illyria.  “I know that you probably don’t understand what’s going on between Spike and I, and I’m not sure that you care.  But I will ask you, warrior to warrior:  guard your troops.  He means more to me than I can ever say, and all I ask is that you do your best to bring him back safely.”

Illyria blinked briefly, clearly trying to process the emotion that she could sense coming from Buffy, and finally gave a brisk nod.  “I would not see him come to harm.  I thought to keep him as my pet, but it seems as though you have assumed him already.  Regardless of your ties to him, he has importance here, and he will return with me.  You have my word.”

Buffy nodded resolutely and smiled in thanks, turning and mouthing her pet? at Spike, who just raised his eyebrow and smirked in reply.  Stifling a slightly hysterical giggle, she returned to the shelter of his arms, looking up only when she heard the telltale banging that announced the arrival of Lorne and Gunn.

Wesley turned to Illyria, eager to put an end to both the stultifying silence and the uncertainty.  “What do you need from us, Illyria?  How shall we facilitate the shift for you?”

“You need do nothing.  I can find Angel’s path well enough, and physical contact with Spike will be sufficient to bring him with me.  Will the empath be included?  His services could prove helpful to the half-breed in the interpretation of emotion and motive.”

“Lorne?” asked Wesley, willing to allow the demon to make his own decision in the matter.  He well remembered how much Lorne disliked interdimensional travel and couldn’t imagine that a shift in time would be any more amenable.  His services could be of use, but he would leave the final call to Lorne himself.  Far too many decisions had been made for them already.

“I can help,” Lorne answered firmly.  “I’ve gone walking through Angelcakes’ head enough times to know that I could help to ID what we’re seeing and what he’s feeling.  I’m not sure I’d feel right if I didn’t go… I need to so I can put my own mind at ease.  Let’s go, tartlets… let’s see what our boy’s going to try.”

Buffy squeezed Spike’s hand and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, letting him move away from her and towards the training circle in the middle of the room.  Illyria stood in the center, Lorne and Spike to her sides.  She closed her eyes, and everyone in the room could feel the power thrum through the atmosphere in the moments before a light burst forth from the god.  Shooting her arms out quickly to the side, she placed one hand on each hitchhiker’s chest, and the light wavered only briefly before the three of them disappeared from the room. 

Buffy stifled a sob and closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth inside her that was still burning strongly.  She opened her eyes and met those of Wesley and Gunn, who looked as tense as she herself felt, before smiling tremulously.  “Wherever they are, they’re safe.  I can feel him.”

“Through the claim?” Wesley asked, clearly intrigued by the opportunity to investigate a vampiric claim outside the normal avenues of grimoires and compendiums.  The bite marks had not gone unnoticed, merely unmentioned, although he felt that he could now allow the researcher in him a bit more leeway.

“Yes, through the claim,” Buffy answered, fingers unconsciously caressing Spike’s mark.  “So now that we know they’re OK, it’s just a matter of waiting for them to come back.”

A few long minutes passed, the three of them standing in a comfortable, though tense, silence before eventually finding seating on the training equipment spread throughout the room.   Buffy’s pained gasp drew their attention back towards her, however, and they watched as she clutched her stomach reflexively before looking up and meeting their gazes.

“Whatever they’re seeing—Spike is NOT happy.”