[A/N: One of the things I never understood about this show were the plot threads that went dangling, things mentioned that seemed to be incredibly important and then were just dropped. I suppose that’s what happens when you have a stable of alternating writers with such differing views of the characters. Made for interesting moments, but too much of that and you have a mess (or a field day for the fanfiction writers, so I suppose we shouldn’t complain too much). But when the gaps become too much, its just sloppy. And frankly, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could always tell when Joss stepped in and cleaned up someone else’s script. *Sighs* I’d love to work for Joss though, just for a little bit. Title and quotes as attributed, and disclaimers still in full force and effect.]


Previously: Tara is torn about Willow; Buffy and Spike have shared some moments.


22. Serenity is far away


Where did you come from, Baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into the here.
Where did you get your eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.
George MacDonald, At the Back of the North Wind

Loneliness is not a phase
Field of pain is where I graze
Serenity is far away
Saw my reflection and cried
So little hope that I died
Feed me your lies, open wide
Weight of my heart, not the size
Layne Staley – Alice in Chains, Angry Chair from the album Dirt



She had that glare in her eyes. The kind when the sunlight was so bright that everything but the sunlight appears in a funny color. But she didn’t care.

Dawn was too intent on the images staring back at her that she ignored everything. Blocked from Tara’s sight by her book were two pictures. The first was a smaller version of the last picture of all the Summers women and the other was of Spike, taken just couple of weeks ago.

She really didn’t look like her mother and she wasn’t sure because she could barely remember what he looked like, but Dawn didn’t think she looked anything like Hank Summers either.

There were similarities though, with Buffy, like the shape of their mouths, their cheekbones and some other things.

Covering the images of Buffy and her mother with the picture of Spike, Dawn gulped. They had the exact same nose, and their eye color was almost identical. Jaw-lines were nearly the same, and, looking closely at him, she’d be willing to bet that their hair was the same color.

She’d taken biology. She knew how babies were made – but she hadn’t ever been a baby. Hadn’t come into the world naturally. Some crazy magical monks had made her.

But what had they used to make her?

She knew they’d taken something of Buffy to help create this body. But she wasn’t exactly like Buffy – which she should have been if they’d only used Buffy. Then she would have been a clone of Buffy – a living, breathing Buffybot, but she wasn’t.

For one thing, she was taller than her sister, for another, she was too different from Buffy. Enough so that the monks had to have ‘borrowed’ something from another source.

Could that other source have been Spike?

As many similarities as there were with her sister, there were at least double that with Spike.

Were they really her parents?


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


He’d gotten up first, needing to get away, to get some perspective on what had happened between them.

And also, because his hard-on was painful.

So with the lame excuse that he needed to shower, Spike slid from the bed and headed for the bathroom.

Stepping into the shower, Spike did the only thing he could, under the circumstances. Sliding his left hand around his erection, he re-lived their night with a few choice alterations.

Release was quick.

Forgetting how he’d spent the night would take lifetimes.


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


Buffy felt better than she had in a very long time. Well, technically, it was only days, but her mind went back to before, before she jumped. Those last months had been horrible. Between her mom being sick and spending time worrying about her, and then Riley leaving after blaming all their problems on her without taking any responsibility for his own actions and Glory. . . God, it was a wonder that she’d been able to sleep or get any rest. It hadn’t gotten any better either, in fact it had just kept getting worse and worse. The last straw came, she remembered, after Glory had taken Dawn and Giles told her that her baby sister had to die in order to close the portal.

She’d barely slept those last weeks, hardly eaten anything either. She’d felt like the walls were closing in on her, and there was no possible escape. They hadn’t had any answers about how to beat Glory, and even when they had come up with a plan, there had been too many variables, anything could have gone wrong. And well, it actually did all go wrong.

She’d had to jump. It had come down to a choice between her and Dawn. Buffy was not going to allow that. She wasn’t going to be willing to live in a world without Dawn.

Instead, she’d made Dawn live in a world without her.

At that moment, standing up on the tower, Buffy had to make a decision. She’d heard Spike clatter up the stairs while she battled Glory, heard him fall over the side, known instinctively that he’d done his best but in the end, it all came down to her. She was the Chosen One. Just like all the other times, it was all down to one person.

Only this time, it wasn’t some impersonal save the world thing – it was save her sister. So she’d done the only thing she could do.

She’d jumped.

In the back of her mind, she’d known somehow that Dawn would be safe. That the scoobies and Giles would look after her. And she knew, too, that despite whatever else he might do, Spike would keep his last promise to her. To protect Dawn to the end of the world.

She’d played on his affections for the both of them, using his feelings to protect her sister. It wasn’t nice, not really, what she’d done, but he’d agreed. What’s more, he’d done it. Kept his promise.

Protected her sister.

How could she deny that his feelings weren’t real? She cringed, remembering how she’d told him vampires couldn’t love. Maybe not all vampires could love, maybe it was just . . . . she didn’t want to go there, thinking about Angel and Darla and Drusilla. Dragging her thoughts to the vampire in the bathroom, Buffy had to admit that Spike was one of a kind. Unique.

He hid his real persona behind the facade of the Big Bad, shielding his true nature from the world, or at least that’s what she was beginning to suspect. Coming back had opened her eyes. Spike had changed since she’d been gone. Changed in ways that she was just discovering, or maybe, he’d been making those changes all along, and she’d only just started noticing.

Either way, it was time to give the vampire some credit.

Maybe it was time to give him those crumbs he’d been looking for from her.


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


Willow had started out with every intention of going to the university library, either that or going to the registrar’s office to get the course catalog for the upcoming semester. What she actually ended up doing was something completely different. Her attention had been snagged by a flyer advertising a free aura picture with a psychic reading. Giggling softly, Willow figured what the heck, and went to see what it was all about.

Putting on her resolve face, Willow mentally steeled herself, blanketing her power. She was gonna have some fun. Would be nice to see if this psychic was the real deal or just another one of those make-believe fake witches. If she was the real deal, she’d be able to spot Willow right away. If not, Willow decided, she was gonna have some fun and show her what a real witch was.


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


He was downstairs watching television. She could hear it from her bedroom. Buffy thought about going down to join him, but really wasn’t sure she wanted to make the effort. It was just easier to do nothing. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she stared down at her hands. The day had started out so good. There’d been no nightmares and she’d finally told Spike about heaven.

So why did she feel like sitting here and crying?

God she hated feeling this way, so weak and scared and just not wanting to move or do anything. But she just didn’t know how to break out of it. Didn’t know if she really wanted to break out of it. She wasn’t moving, it was okay just being here. No disruptions, no loud noises, no one looking for her attention.

So why were the tears falling?

Buffy wiped her eyes, trying to stem the flow, but it didn’t work. The tears kept falling. She was empty. So empty. There shouldn’t be any tears. A great gaping void of grayness filled her, pushing out from the inside against her skin. She felt so fragile, scared, like spun glass, brittle and breakable. She wasn’t the slayer anymore, she wasn’t anything.

Heaven hadn’t wanted her.

Falling down with her head landing heavily on her pillows, Buffy sobbed into the downy softness. She wasn’t wanted. Why would heaven let Willow pull her out? Wasn’t she good enough to stay in heaven? Had she done something wrong? Heaven didn’t want her. No one wanted her. She couldn’t get in enough air. She was choking again, back in the grave, everything closed in on her.

Heaven didn’t want her.

The tears became a torrent, all the more painful because she couldn’t make a sound. Nothing came out. Her throat was closing, panic setting in. No air. She couldn’t get any air. Harsh gasps filled her sunlight room, but Buffy couldn’t see any of that. She was back in that dark place, surrounded by oppressive nothingness.

She felt like her skin would shatter if she moved the wrong way. Shatter like broken glass, spewing pieces all over the room, shards of herself strewn about her house, nothing substantial left. She was nothing. Because heaven had sent her back.

Buffy cried for what she remembered, cried for what she’d had – peace – and for what had been ripped from her. She was not worthy of heaven. But oh, how she wanted nothing better than to go back. Maybe if she did shatter she’d be allowed to return.


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


Some small sound caught his attention. Spike turned the volume down on the television, listening, straining his ears to hear it again. Lifting his eyes to the stairs, he thought he heard it again. The debate with himself lasted about twenty seconds. If it wasn’t her, and she was fine, then he’d live with breaking in on her room. If it was her, then she needed him and nothing else mattered.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Spike was at her door instantly. Hearing nothing he almost went back down to the television when he heard something that set his nerves singing. Knocking once, he opened the door, finding his initial intuition had been correct.

Buffy was curled up on her bed, fist to her mouth, eyes shut tight and tears streaming down her face. She never heard him enter, didn’t react to him opening the door. Caught in the throes of pain and panic, Buffy was unreachable. Hesitating only a second, Spike swept her off the bed and into his arms.

“Ssshhh sweetheart. Its all right.” Words just spilled from his mouth, sounds just to reach the sobbing girl, something to calm her down.

Took a bit, but finally her breathing settled down, and she rested her head against his shoulder. Sniffling loudly, Buffy tried wiping away the tears. Her hand on his opposite shoulder, Buffy hugged him as his arms circled around her.

“Sorry” she mumbled thickly. “Keep doing this.”

“No worries pet. S’ok. I don’t mind.” He tugged her closer, wishing he could do more for her. Seemed like she needed something. “You need to cry then cry.”

“Tired of crying. Wanna stop.” She pouted just a little, which always drove him mad. She had such a cute mouth, but when she pouted like that he just wanted to spend hours nibbling at her lips.

“Well then, what set you off this time?” He was curious what she had been thinking about, what triggered the crying jag this time.

“Heaven didn’t want me.” Fresh tears started flowing, dripping down her cheeks to pool on their arms.

“Oh pet, heaven wanted you. Why wouldn’t it, . . . christ, love, you’re the bloody Chosen One, course heaven wanted you.” One hand held her head against his shoulder, while the other rubbed up and down her hip.

“No. No . . heaven didn’t want me. Riley didn’t . . no one wanted me. No one wants me.” Her voice was broken up with hiccuping breaths, but Spike understood what she was saying.

“Hey, s’not true. Git was just too bloody stupid to realize what a treasure he had.” He was afraid he was going to go to far, scare her off, but he couldn’t sit here and let her believe that she wasn’t wanted. “God, pet, do you have any idea? I want you. Want you all the time. Always.”

She half-sobbed half-huffed her disbelief. “Can’t. I’m horrible. Bad. No good.”

“Oh fucking hell. Pet, you are the best person I’ve ever met. You . . . you’re a bloody star, you are. And yeah” he said, laughing at himself, “oh yeah, I want you, snotty nose and all.”

Buffy batted at his chest halfheartedly. “Stop. I’m all messy and . . . “

He reached up to brush the tears from her face, his hand cool against her flushed skin, stopping her words. His touch was gentle, calming her even further. Whispering to her, his voice a low rumble in his chest vibrating against her arm, Spike said “want you so much.”

A bolt of electricity went through her hearing his words. Buffy stared at him, disbelief warring with some other emotion in her eyes. His thumb brushed across her mouth, soft as air, followed by his lips. Buffy shivered, which traveled from her body to his. Spike drew back, looking intently into her eyes. He started to speak then changed his mind, instead, settling his mouth on hers.

Growling low in his throat, Spike hauled her around, so that she was straddling him. Breaking off the kiss, he ground out “feel it? Can you feel how much . . . “ his voice got even deeper, resonating within her “god pet, ‘ve no idea. J’st the thought of you . . . “

Her eyes met his, wide and green and filled with water, unspoken questions pooling together with the unshed tears.

“God, sunshine, can’t you . . . “ his voice was a harsh whisper between them, intense and low, filled with emotion. His want, his need, his craving for her was a physical presence between them, hard and pulsing beneath her. Spike held her tight, not hiding his response to her nearness. Running his hand down her hair, he pulled her toward his chest. “Can’t make m’heart beat, but it would be pounding right about now.”

Half expecting her to pull away from him in horror and disgust, Spike held on, unwilling to let her go if she did pull back. Instead, she shocked the hell out of him by twining her arms around his neck, breathing in his scent. His muscles twitched, tensing as he held her, as he tried to still his urge to lay her down on the bed and show her exactly how much he wanted her. Unable to control himself completely, Spike began placing little kisses from her shoulder to her neck, growling a little with each touch.

She shivered, his kisses raising gooseflesh all over. Buffy closed her eyes and just drowned in the sensations assaulting her. His strong arms around her, the softness of his lips on her neck, the depth of his murmurs reverberating in her chest and the tense hardness beneath her. This was good. This was better than good. Smiling just a little, Buffy breathed against his ear “crumbs”.

It took him a moment, focused as he was on the scent and taste of her skin, before her whisper registered in his brain. Crumbs? She said crumbs . . . What the bleeding hell was she on about? Crumbs. . . bloody silly . . . oh fucking hell. Their conversation from months ago finally replayed itself in his fuddled brain. Crumbs . . . crumbs! She’s giving me crumbs.

Absofuckinglutely unbelievable.
[A/N: Something I never understood or agreed with was the correlation between Willow’s magic problems with addiction. Truth is, Willow’s issues weren’t about being addicted, it was more about a witch realizing her powers, and basically expanding them without wanting to admit or realize that there are consequences. Another thing was that Willow lacked a moral center – she had a real problem with what she believes is “best” counterbalanced against what others do. Don’t believe me? Go back and watch some more of those episodes when Willow does what Willow wants, without worrying about whether or not she’s about to hurt someone. Trust me, its not pretty. Titles and quotes as attributed, disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Previously: Buffy finally gave Spike his crumbs, and Willow’s out and about. Dawn is wondering just how she got here and who the monks took stuff from to create her. . . .

23. A harlot’s prerogative

Power, like a desolating pestilence,
Pollutes whate’er it touches.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, Queen Mab, pt. 3

A power I have, but of what strength and nature
i am not yet instructed.
Measure for Measure, act 1, sc 1

Power without responsibility –
The prerogative of the harlot throughout the ages.
Rudyard Kipling

Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Great men are almost always bad men.
John Emerich Edward Dalberg, 1st Baron Acton



Grinning to herself, Willow nearly brushed her hands together in satisfaction of a job well done. She’d gone into the psychic’s shop, hoping for an interesting half hour or so. lt had been interesting, just not for me. The woman hadn’t had one smidgeon of the power that Willow herself had, and so she’d played with the woman.

One minute the woman was reading her tarot cards and the next the cards were flying about the room, dancing around her head. Willow had gotten exasperated with her, losing patience when the woman told her ‘a dark man will come into your life and sweep you off your feet’ . Her only thought had been ‘duh, um, gay now. No man is gonna come into my life and sweep me anywhere’.

Having taken that as her cue that the gypsy-wanna be was a fake, Willow had let her have it. At first she’d just shifted the cards around, but then, when the woman didn’t notice, she’d made them fly around. Getting caught up in her play, Willow set the crystals rotating and made the crystal ball spin in the air. When that didn’t phase the other, she’d gotten slightly peeved and set all the bells and gongs clanging. That’s when the woman got frightened. Stupid woman.

So Willow had finished teaching the woman a lesson.

She’d played with her, pulling on her hair and lifting her skirts, poking and tickling her. The cards, bells, gongs and crystals had all been whirling about the air, adding to the confusion. Willow had only relented when the woman began crying, pleading with her to stop. Growing bored and a little disappointed that it hadn’t been much fun in the first place, Willow clapped her hands together and stopped everything in place.

The cards and crystals dropped to the floor, ripped and shattered.

Turning her back on the woman’s disheveled form and destroyed shop, Willow resumed her earlier plans and headed off toward UC Sunnydale’s campus.

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

Rupert had been listening to his recording of Willow’s version of the events surrounding Buffy’s resurrection for the last two days. He was afraid he kept missing something integral, something that would strike him and give him the answers he was seeking.

Every night since Buffy’s return, Spike had encountered the aftermath of whatever-it-was’ nightly feasting. Thankfully, the numbers had gone down, leading both men to believe that the fear and change in location were what lead to the initial bloodbath. Other than that, they had absolutely nothing to go on. Spike hadn’t even been able to get a glimpse of whatever-it-was, merely what it ate. Giles had a theory that whatever-it-was had followed Buffy from whatever dimension Willow had released her from. But without knowing what dimension Buffy had been in, he had no way to identify whatever-it-was. Giles sighed, thinking, we really have to come up with a better name for this than whatever-it-was.

Too many variables. Too many unknowns. And, without grilling both of the girls, he wasn’t going to get many answers at all.

He was going to have to talk to Buffy about it. He’d like to avoid talking to Willow for the time being, until he had more to go on, this way his questioning would be a bit more specific. Either that or get Spike and the Buffybot and everyone else out on patrol tonight, hoping for a glimpse of whatever it was.

Pocketing the recorder, Giles said goodbye to Anya and headed for the door.

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

Neither one of them breathed, frozen in stillness, locked together in an embrace. Spike was almost afraid to move, afraid to break the spell they were under. Buffy didn’t want to move because she didn’t want to give up the safety and comfort. Their heads were tucked against the other’s neck, and both of them were just breathing in the scent of each other.

For once in his life, Spike was stunned speechless. He had no words to say to explain, to contain the emotions he was feeling at this moment. ‘Crumbs’. He laughed because it was the only sound he could make at that moment. He laughed because this was so bloody perfect. Spike said it out loud, just because he wanted to hear it from her once more. “Crumbs?”

She giggled, catching onto his laughter. “Yeah crumbs.”

Their laughter stopped, though, when he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly. It stilled so abruptly that his ears rang with it.

Shifting them so that they lay face to face on her bed, Spike traced her features with a gentle hand. “Christ woman, you are beautiful.”

Buffy’s blush crept across her features, but her words stopped his movements. “No I’m not, not really.”

Spike huffed his disbelief. “Eye of the beholder, pet. If I say you are, you are.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him. Not at this moment anyway. This was too nice to give up. Her eyes drifted closed, as she felt his fingers resume their trek across her face.

His voice reached through her, warming her from the inside out, “missed you pet. So much. Wasn’t right without you, Niblet cried all the time. Rupert was at loose ends.”

Curling into his embrace, Buffy settled against his chest, letting his deep voice rumble against her ear. “Patrolled for you every night, did what I could to make up for it . . . “ his voice trailed off, unwilling to finish that train of thought.

He was quiet for too long. Buffy traced idle patterns on his arms, matching the ones he was tracing on her back. Her voice, when she spoke sounded content and languid. “Make up for what?”

Spike hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to bring this up, possibly spoiling the moment. “Make up for not saving you or Little Bit that night. Make up for failing you.”

“No . . . no Spike you didn’t. You did the best you could. You didn’t fail me.” Buffy hugged him close, tightening her grip almost painfully. She felt rather than saw his head shake in disagreement.

“I did. Didn’t move fast enough, or somethin’. Doc got the drop on me – underestimated the bleeding bastard – couldn’t save Dawn from gettin’ hurt, nor stop you from jumping. Kept going over it and over it in m’head, after. Always worked then. Every time – managed to save you both.”

There was nothing she could say. What he just admitted was hard enough. Seemed like today was the day for giving up secrets between them. Not that they’d ever really had any, they had an eerie way of being able to read each other, naturally able to intuit what the other was feeling. Instead of answering, Buffy just shifted a bit, so their faces were even and kissed him softly.

He hadn’t expected that, but didn’t object. Their mouths met, lips parted naturally and tongues entwined about each other. The kiss deepened, their bodies shifting, closing the already small gap between them. Spike moved, half tucking her beneath him, wedging his hips between hers, letting her feel the hard length of him rubbing against her. Buffy clutched at him, her fingers wrapped around the nape of his neck. Almost of their own accord, his hips undulated against her and she unconsciously wrapped one of her legs around the outside of his, opening herself up so he could get closer. His hand snaked up under her night shirt, cupping her breast. Soft mewls and heavy breathing filled the room, both of them gasping for air.

His thumb flicked over her nipple and she arched up against him.

Neither one of them heard the doorbell, but they both heard the door slam, then the sound of their names being called by Rupert.

“Piss poor timing your watcher has pet.” He nipped in for another kiss before pulling away. “I’ll go see what he wants. Come down when you’re ready.”

She looked . . . . like an angel on the road to debauchery, so tempting as she lay there flustered from his kisses, that before he left the room, Spike had to kiss her once more. Letting his lips settle on hers, then drift down to lay another kiss between her breasts, Spike grinned at her expression, adjusted himself and was gone, all before Buffy could even react.

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

She got to campus, but nearly everything was closed. Only a few of the buildings were open, mostly the offices, and that was okay, because she was looking for the registrar’s office anyway. While she was there waiting for the woman behind the counter to get the course catalog she wanted, Willow looked at the flyers announcing all the groups meeting on campus. Three in particular caught her eye. The first was for the upcoming meeting of the witches group where she and Tara had met. The second was for ROTC training, which immediately brought to mind The Initiative. She wondered if any of them were still left, and if so, whether or not they would be a visible presence or if they had gone completely covert. Willow didn’t think the government would leave the hellmouth completely unwatched, even if the Slayer was in residence.

The last one took her breath away. It was a flyer for a fraternity party, the first weekend of classes, which wasn’t anything unusual. What was unusual was the band playing. Dingoes Ate my Baby were scheduled to appear for the first time in 2 years. And the flyer said ‘original line-up’. Which meant Oz. Oz was back.

Completely flustered, Willow whirled out of the office, not waiting for the woman who had been helping her. Oh great goddess. Oz was back. Where the heck had he been? The last time she’d seen him, they’d agreed that he couldn’t be around her, that she made him feel too much. She didn’t even think he was playing anymore. Oh darn oh darn. Wait . . . she had Tara. Taking a deep breath, Willow settled herself, then walked quickly toward the main quad, where the outdoor café was. She needed caffeine to calm herself.

Oz was back in Sunnydale, but that didn’t mean she had to see him, had to go out of her way to find him. Maybe they wouldn’t even see each other. If she didn’t go to the party and didn’t go looking for him, she’d be okay. Willow sat at a table, her mind whizzing from one subject to another, unaware that in her agitation, she’d set all the machines whirring and buzzing, starting the soda dispensers spewing sticky liquid all over the place.

It wasn’t until she heard a voice calling her name, that she snapped out of her confused musings. “Hey Willow? It is you, right?”

A dark haired girl perched on the seat in front of her, looking at her intently, like she expected Willow to remember her. “Oh hey, how are you?”

Willow covered up her confusion by playing along. “I haven’t seen you since you and that Tara girl hooked up after our meetings. I wasn’t even sure you were still here at Sunnydale.”

“Um, yeah, I grew up here. So, how you been?” Willow tried, but couldn’t remember her name at all, it was just a complete blank.

Shifting her attention from the girl in front of her, Willow noticed the mess that was still being cleaned up the counter and in a moment of pity for the kids working there, concentrated, took a deep breath, opened her eyes as they flashed black for an instant, then flicked her fingers in the general direction of the kiosk. The chaos stopped and everything was clean. And in typical Sunnydale fashion, the workers shrugged, then went about what they were doing before the chaos ensued. It all happened inside a couple of minutes, but when Willow looked back at the girl, she was still talking, unaware of what Willow had just done. Thinking to herself, Willow stared hard at the girl, her eyes flickering dark, then clearing again.

“So, Jess that sounds interesting. Are you going to be running the wiccan group again?” Willow had just probed into the other girl’s mind, getting her name and all sorts of other information. Jessica, the other girl, shifted, feeling something different but unable to pinpoint what it was. A bit flustered, the girl talked to Willow for a little bit longer, then made her excuses to leave. Willow breathed deeply, realizing she was able to walk through the other girl’s mind without any expenditure of real effort.

Smiling to herself, Willow got up from the table, intent on finding out what else she could do with this sudden surge of power.

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

Rupert had been waiting in the kitchen, looking about for something to drink, when Spike finally made his way downstairs. Spike had stopped momentarily in the hallway, in an almost futile effort to will his erection away. Wouldn’t do for her watcher, well, the man she considered a father to notice something. Not that he expected Rupert to be eyeing his crotch, but you never knew what that man paid attention too. He didn’t want anything to cause a problem with what was happening between him and Buffy.

“Watcher” he called from the kitchen doorway. “What brings you here?”

“Spike. We need more information on this whatever-it-was that you’ve been cleaning up after for the last few nights. I was thinking perhaps I’d ask Buffy a few more questions, to narrow down my research.” Giles settled on grabbing a soda from the refrigerator, gesturing with his free hand to the other man.

Thinking quickly, Spike wasn’t sure if Buffy was going to be any help in the research, especially if she stuck to her guns and kept quiet about where she’d been. “Dunno what else I can tell you. Never seen the bastard only smelled it.” He wrinkled his forehead, adding “smells rank though, nasty.”

“Yes, I believe you have mentioned that once or twice.” In fact, the vampire had complained long and loudly the other night after finding the second kill, about the stench the whatever-it-was emitted.

Before he could respond, Buffy appeared, looking flushed and smiling a little. Shooting Spike a heated glance, she asked “hey Giles, what’s the what?”

Heading right for the refrigerator, Buffy listened while Giles outlined his ideas for the whatever-it-was and shrugged while she searched for a yogurt. “I don’t remember being around anything like that. It wasn’t like that. It was. . . “ she hesitated, trying to think of something to tell him that wouldn’t set off his internal alarms, “it was different. I don’t remember much.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at her, knowing full well she was lying to the older man, but Buffy just stared back. She wasn’t going to tell anyone. While it warmed him to know that she trusted him with the information of where she was, it bothered him more than a little that she wasn’t even going to tell Rupert.

Leaning against the island, standing next to Spike, Buffy avoided Giles’ eye. Didn’t help
that Spike had pushed his leg against hers, unable to resist touching her now that she was within touching distance.

Giles blinked once, then continued, “I had thought as much. Its understandable that you haven’t remembered everything yet. It has just been a week since you’ve returned. I shall have to ask Willow.” Grimacing unintentionally at the thought, he went on to say, “have you given any thought about resuming patrol?”

Sharing a look with Spike, Buffy shook her head in denial. “Not really sure I’m ready. Still feeling out of sorts.”

“You do know you are going to have to, sooner or later. Can’t leave it all up to Spike or the Buffybot. You might want to think about training again.” He was afraid she’d lost her nerve, gotten skittish in her time away, and Giles knew that while having Spike around was a godsend (and the irony of that never ceased to amaze him) but it was Buffy’s responsibility, not Spike’s to patrol the hellmouth.

“Might help, pet, if you did start. Give you something to focus on.” Spike was all for it, getting her out of the house and doing anything that gave her the motivation to do something other than dwell on her situation. “Need to do it myself.”

He knew if he pushed hard enough, Buffy would balk, so Giles let it go, leaving the options open for her to resume training when she was ready. This current mood was so unlike her that it was beginning to concern him. Buffy wasn’t the sort to sit still and brood, preferring action over introspection. Maybe Spike could get her motivated.

“I think perhaps its time for a full out patrol.” Giles let the suggestion sit in the air, knowing the ultimate decision was ironically, up to the vampire.

“Yeah, what the hell. Get the whelp out of his easy chair and out chasing nasties.”

Grinning at each other in expectation of some violence, Giles and Spike agreed, setting the time to meet at seven that night.

[A/N: Title is from The Clash, arguably the best punk band that ever existed, the song is “The Sound of Sinners”. I will never forget the first time I saw them live, blew me and everyone else away. Disclaimers in full force and effect, though I really wish Joss would sign over his rights long enough for me to write a screenplay, wherein Angel loses the girl for once and always]

Previously: Willow is feeling the effects of her power, Giles is determined to discover the origins of whatever-it-was and Buffy has finally seen the light and given Spike his crumbs and now, just a bit more . . . .

Chapter 24. The fuel of evil is raining from the sky.

The gates of Hell are open night and day;
smooth the descent, and easy is the way;
but, to return, and view the cheerful skies;
in this, the task and mighty labour lies.
Virgil, the Sibyl of Cumae, the Aeneid, bk 6

The corruption of the best things gives rise to the worst.
David Hume, The Natural History of Religion, section 10

Hell isn’t merely paved with good intentions;
Its walled and roofed with them.
Yes, and furnished too.
Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have a Stop, chapter 12



By the time they were ready to patrol, with nearly everyone assembled at the Magic Box, Spike was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. He was in a singularly good mood, unable to contain his excitement. Between the two of them, he and Giles had managed to get Buffy out of the house, and while she wasn’t quite up for patrol, she had agreed to do some research and look for whatever-it-was based on Spike’s meager description.

Giles had nearly fallen over when Buffy had said she would hit the books, knowing full well his slayer hated research with nearly the same amount of passion that Xander did. But at least she was out, which was in his mind, a step in the right direction. It was good to see her dressed and relatively ready to go.

She was still too thin, her bones still pronounced beneath her skin, but she was looking better. Her skin was pale and her eyes were too big, but she was almost back to being herself and that was a good thing.

It was hard to look at her with the Buffybot standing nearby, but Spike would rather have the real girl than the one he’d commissioned from that Warren geek. He stood across the room from her, leaning against the glass display, just watching her. She was still, sitting beside her sister, just watching everyone around her. There was no way any of them could admit she wasn’t changed by what had happened, he could see it plain and clear. But then, the scoobies weren’t exactly adept at reading each other’s emotions. In fact, as a whole, they were incredibly dense about each other. Not a one of them, with the possible exception of Buffy, was attuned to anyone other than their own self, and even she was fairly oblivious most times. He wondered, looking at her now as she moved away from Xander, if her time away would change that for the better.

To be sure, he hadn’t expected her to change her views about him. Although he’d done his damnedest to make sure that she noticed, he’d not expected much in the way of pay-off. He’d always been one to reach for the impossible, his heart knowing no limits. The unattainable was always more attractive than what he could have. And in his whole existence, there’d been no one more unattainable than Buffy.

Until this morning.

Suddenly, everything he ever wanted was almost within reach. And now, he was forced to admit to himself, he was scared out of his mind. This girl, this golden beautiful girl, his own, no, he wasn’t going to call her an angel, but, this sprite, had giggled in his ear this morning and told him he had a crumb. He smiled, looking at her, his heart in his eyes. She must have felt his gaze on her, because she glanced up at him, and literally, the fear that had been building melted away at his stare. They stared at each other for a good few minutes, the rest of the room receding as their eyes met and held.

Their exchange hadn’t gone unnoticed. Dawn had felt the intensity of Spike’s look, and, glancing up in time to see her sister respond to his silent call, suppressed her own smile. Tara too, had seen them, and smiling a bit from her spot by the bookshelf, she caught Dawn’s grin with her own.

Then suddenly, in a flurry of weapons and instructions, it was time for those that were going, to hit the cemeteries and patrol. Buffy and Dawn were the only two remaining in the Magic Box, while the others went off to find whatever-it-was or at least something to lead them to it. Willow hadn’t shown up at all, no one had seen her all day, and she hadn’t left a note for anyone back at the house either. Spike wasn’t in the mood to face her, in any case, he didn’t want anything to disturb his current good mood. And he knew that no matter what Buffy’s admission that Willow had pulled her out of heaven would light a flash to his temper the first time he laid eyes on Willow.

Giles was the first out the door, admonishing Anya as she idly swung the short sword she was carrying in a wide arc, followed by the others, with Spike bringing up the rear.

“Stay inside, Bit.” were his words to Dawn, while staring long and hard at the slayer. It was hard to resist the instant urge to sweep her up in his arms and give her a goodbye kiss, but he resisted when she rolled her eyes in her sister’s direction. Dawn was staring at the two of them, as they stood there awkwardly, both wanting to give some gesture, but afraid of the reaction they’d get from an audience. Mindful of that, Spike tilted his head to the side, whispered something softly to Buffy, touched her face and strode out the door, without looking back.

It took all her will power not to say something cute to her sister, but Dawn managed to curb that, just barely. It was sooo sweet. Adorable really. It would be nice, the teenager thought, if they actually did get together. Would give her hope for herself, that maybe she could have a family, a real family, for the first time.

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

It didn’t feel right anymore, patrolling without her. Giles thought it was the strangest thing to be out here, in the cemeteries while Buffy stayed behind, even though he and Spike had patrolled together without her often the past few months. Knowing she was back made the difference, he supposed, but even when they’d taken out the Buffybot, it hadn’t been the same.

They were going out in pairs, each pair taking a third of each cemetery, hoping to catch a glimpse of, he sighed, whatever-it-was, he was really going to have to talk to Spike about naming the unidentified nasties a bit better. He and Spike were teamed up, taking the largest area, though Spike was going to range about more widely, since his speed far outmatched any of the others, including the Buffybot. The vampire was yards ahead of him, hopping over headstones instead of walking around them like any sane person would, his boundless energy needing a release. Spike had been in an uncommonly good mood all day, something Giles had noted, which was a nice change. He was even humming as he’d caught up with him on their way into Restfield, something the vampire rarely did.

Deciding he’d rather not know what had put him in such a good mood, Giles questioned him, “any idea where we might find this?”

“Nary a one” was the vampire’s off-hand response. “Only place it seems to like is by the tower. But” he paused as he jumped over a small cherub, “that fire destroyed enough to make it hard for it to hide.”

Which was true. Spike hadn’t admitted it outright, but Giles had more than a firm suspicion that he’d been the one to start it.

“And no further idea about whatever it might be?” Giles’ gaze was drawn to his left, where Tara was patrolling with the Buffybot.

“‘Nother dead end.” Spike was striding forward, his voice carrying behind him.

A yell sounded off to the right, and Spike took off at a flat out run, Giles not to far behind him.


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

Xander had been trying to make sense of some things for the past couple of days. When they’d gone to the house for dinner that night, the absolute last thing he’d expected was to find Buffy there. That had been just amazing. On top of that, it was his best friend who could make with the magic and actually, well, he’d always felt a little intimidated by Buffy, even as he’d sort of had a crush on her, but Willow, who’d ever have thought little Willow could do all that?

What he really didn’t understand was why everyone was so unhappy. Seemed like to him, that the open portal was a good enough trade off for Buffy’s return. He didn’t get why Giles was so worried about it. Wasn’t like some Hell god had followed Buffy back.

But what really confused Xander was Anya’s reaction to all this. She had stood there, looking at him a couple of nights ago, after he’d ranted about his confusion over the whole situation, and when he’d finished, she’d said, with typical bluntness “its dark magic Xander, something Willow knows nothing about and she messed with the natural order of things. She tried for something really dangerous, so the stakes are higher. The dimensional rules require the payment to be of equal value. It’s quite similar to the capitalist system, really, if you think about it.”

At which point, Xander stopped listening.

He stopped listening because it was something he didn’t want to hear, and didn’t really understand. To him it was all so very simple, or it should be. Buffy was back and that was good. Everything else could be dealt with and dismissed.

Another thing he’d wanted to dismiss from their lives was Spike. Now that Buffy was back, he thought the vampire should just be given his walking papers and sent back to his crypt, far away from all of them. What he didn’t know, and what no one had cared to enlighten him about was the frequency and intensity of Buffy’s nightmares, which was a well kept secret between the inhabitants of Revello Drive, and anyone’s, but Spike’s, inability to subdue the slayer when she was thrashing about and crying.

Xander thought about complaining to Anya again, but having gotten zero sympathy the first time around, figured he should just keep his mouth shut. Instead, he brought up one of the other things on his mind. “Do you think Buffy looked okay?”

Anya stopped walking to gaze at him. “She looks better than she did that first day. At least she’s starting too. I don’t think there was much food wherever she was.” She paused, obviously thinking hard, then said “she could go into modeling, she’s thin enough now. Might be too short though.”

“Not exactly what I meant Ahn” he replied.

“Oh. Well, she’d probably hate it anyway” was her pragmatic response.

Shaking his head, Xander continued walking, his eyes trained on the ground.

“This is a stupid idea. We don’t even know what we’re looking for” Anya continued grousing.

Picking his head up, Xander held up a hand to silence her. “Did you hear that?”

She started to say no, when a low deep growl came from somewhere to their right.

“Ahn, come here.” Xander didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Following his instructions, the former demon started to do just that, until the growl sounded again, this time much closer. “Okay, change of plans” he spoke very calmly. “Gonna come closer to you.”

As he did, the growling just increased. Anya turned around, shrieking out loud.

They weren’t very big, not compared to some of the demons they’d battled over the years, but they were intimidating anyway. At first count, Xander thought there were at least a dozen or so, but then the lead dog growled again as Anya moved and he realized there were only nine. Nine wild dogs in Sunnydale. Nine growling, snarling wild dogs.

Some of them were white, with red splotches and red ears while a couple were red with black, sort of like deranged Dalmatians, but the big one in front, though, was all black with blood red eyes.

“Nice doggies. Nice calm quiet doggies. Ahn, stop shrieking now, you’re making the dogs howl.” Xander tried talking very calmly, hoping that he and Anya could back away from the dogs. “C’mon honey, one step at a time.”

The dogs snapped, the lead one inching closer, his jaws dripping with slobber. “Ahn, shush.”

Her shrieks stopped, but she was frozen in place, mesmerized by the snarls. Slowly she started backing away, one step at a time, stopping between each movement. The sword she was holding dropped to her side as she tried hard to relax. “Xander. These aren’t normal dogs.”

“I know” was his response. Everytime he moved, one of the pack shifted to move with him, growling and snarling.

“What the bleeding . . “ Spike’s voice cut through the air, drawing their attention momentarily away from the pack.

All business now, Spike stepped in front of Anya, speaking quietly, “Pet, when I tell you, start backing away and don’t stop until you get to Rupert.”

His movement caught and held the attention of the dogs, and while they snarled and growled, they moved no closer and didn’t snap their jaws.

“Harris. You get Glinda and send the damned bot this way.” Spike moved closer to the dogs still blocking the other two. Taking the short sword from Anya’s hand, he continued speaking, “Anya tell Rupert that I’ve found our baddies. Ready?”

Swinging the sword in a wide arc, Spike yelled “GO!” and charged at the dogs, giving the two humans a chance to escape.

Minutes later, realizing he had only six of the dogs to fend off, Spike was starting to re-think his prior nobility. “Dunno why I saved the whelp. Useless boy probably tripped over his own feet and is now kibbles for the poochies.”

Jumping straight up onto a mausoleum, Spike watched as the hounds circled, baying for his blood. Snarling and growling back at them, he realized, wasn’t really helping matters, but it did make him feel better.

He could barely make out other, more distant noises over the din surrounding him, but Spike thought he heard the cavalry arriving. “Right then, you lot of Baskerville, let’s see who can growl the loudest.”

Flipping down behind the dogs, Spike swung the sword around, hoping to take down a few of them before Rupert arrived and he had to protect the watcher.

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

Two of the dogs had chased after him, practically nipping at his shins as he raced through the headstones. He could see the Bot and Tara up ahead and tried calling out to them, but he was running too fast to swallow enough air.

“Ta . . . Tara!” He finally managed, catching her attention.

“Xander!” The bot exclaimed, clotheslining the first dog and absently flipping the second one over.

“What . . . what happened?” Tara stuttered out, picking up on the fear in Xander’s eyes.


“Dogs. Pack. Spike saved.” His breathe was returning, but Xander was still too out of breath to speak coherently. “Go help” he gestured at the Buffybot, who following the line of his outstretched finger, took off in that direction.

“Xander” Tara touched his shoulder as he hunched over.

“Okay. I’m okay. Lots of crazy hellmouth dogs. Teeth. Whhoooaaa big teeth.” Gulping in air, he continued “lots of dogs. Spike. Damn stupid vampire, gonna fight all the dogs at once.”

“Oh no.” Tara’s soft voice rang with sincere emotion. “Oh no, we should go back.”

“Uh Tara, did you see the dogs chasing me? All like that.” Xander was shaking his head in denial of her suggestion, but his feet started heading back toward where he’d left Spike.

She just smiled and kept walking, speeding up to an almost run.


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

Anya reached Rupert, breathlessly informing him of what was going on, when the dog caught up with the both. Pushing the girl behind him, Giles muttered an incantation, which temporarily froze the dog in mid-snap.

“Let’s go Anya. Spike’s going to need some help.”

“Oh no, I’m not going back to fight crazy rabid hell dogs.” Anya shook her head, moving away from Giles, back toward the exit.

“Very well, I’ll go myself.” Not giving her a chance to argue with him further, Giles headed toward where Spike was fighting.

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

“Bloody stupid idea. Where the hell is my backup? Damn whelp can’t tie his own shoes. How can I expect him to find two birds in a cemetery.” Spike was getting pissed. Bloody fucking dogs were all around, circling, snarling and nipping at his legs and arms. Trying harder to keep them away, Spike got his hand caught in the jaws of one, ripping at his flesh.

He faltered, the dog tugging at his right hand, pulling him off balance. “Don’t go down, Spike, otherwise you’ll be dogmeat” he growled to himself. Trying to right himself and disengage his hand, Spike punched the dog’s jaw, then pivoted, bringing up his left leg to kick another one hard.

A third dog came at him, closing its teeth around his shin and Spike yelled his frustration. Sensing their prey’s weakened state, the dogs began closing in.

Just before they brought him down for good, Spike thought he heard someone call his name, then it all went blurry.
[A/N: Since one of my pet peeves about the show was about not having a qualified “mystic” on hand, I will be using my knowledge about that stuff – and giving the two wiccans a bit more power. I also hated what the writers did to Tara, making her a weak character, when her potential was so much more. And Giles too, because anyone that can conjure up a demon as a youth has a bit more magic in them than they show indicated. Anyway, if there are questions about some of the mythical beasts, I”ll be happy to answer them. Title is from Oliver Goldsmith, but I swear its ageless and timeless and quotes as attributed, disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Previously: Buffy gave Spike his crumbs and the scoobies, minus Buffy have gone out to find the nasty that’s been plaguing Sunnydale.

25. Live to fight another day.

He lives not long who battles with the immortals.
Homer, the Iliad, bk vi, 407

We fight, get beat, rise and fight again.
Nathanael Greene, US Revolutionary General

There is an ancient saying, which is a true one –
“To fight against two opponents is a difficult thing.”
Plato, Protagoras


He’d certainly seen worse injuries in his time, some of them inflicted upon the vampire, no, man, laying on the ground before him. That wasn’t to say that the beating he’d taken tonight wasn’t a bad one. Giles leaned down, wincing a bit. The Buffybot stood silent at his side, waiting for his next set of instructions. Spike’s left side had a few bites, but his right side had taken the brunt of his beating.

Rolling over the unconscious form of Spike, Giles winced again. Spike’s hand was mangled, beyond repair if he was merely human, and there were several chunks missing from his legs. Both arms sported bite marks and there was a huge welt across his forehead. Spike groaned as Rupert nudged him.

That was a good sign. “All right, Spike, wake up.”

He and the Buffybot had arrived on the scene just as one of the dogs closed its jaws around Spike’s leg, bringing him down. Directing the bot to start fighting, Rupert has muttered a quick protection spell, then waded into the fight. His priority was getting Spike away from the dogs, then, and only then, getting out of Restfield.

The two of them had fought off the dogs for a few minutes, unable to reach Spike, when first one, then all of the dogs broke off the attack, their attention drawn elsewhere. Acting quickly, lest their attention shift again, Giles gripped Spike by his closest appendage and pulled him from underneath the slobbering jaws.

As one, the dogs had howled then ran from the scene.

Tara had emerged from the shadows then, Xander and Anya behind her. “Is he okay?”

“He’s out, but he will recover.” Trying again to wake him, Giles slapped his fellow Englishman a bit too hard. It did, however, wake him up, though it was a bit too much.

“Tryin to kill me again?” snarled the younger man. “Sweet Jesus that hurts.”

Rubbing his face, Spike tried to get up, but Giles held him down. “Let me help.”

Bracing himself on Spike’s good side, Giles half lifted him up. Spike’s litany of curses filled the air, making both Xander and Tara blush.

“What the bloody hell happened?” He asked, while they waited so he could get his feet under him.

“Something or someone called the dogs off.” Giles was at a loss because he’d been certain they would’ve finished off Spike otherwise.

“Get a clear look at them?” Spike shifted his weight onto his injured right leg, then faltered when it gave out.

“Yes I did. Rather larger for just dogs, wouldn’t you say?” Steadying Spike, Giles continued, “in fact, I would venture a guess and call them hounds rather than dogs.”

Spike snorted a half-laugh at his tone, “oh right, and the Baskerville pooch didn’t give it away at all now Rupert.”

“Baskerville? You know these dogs?” Xander’s voice rang through the night air.

“No Xander. He means the hound of the Baskervilles. A demon hound that haunts the moors of northern England.” Anya’s answer was laced with sarcasm, almost as if questioning why he didn’t know this. “It’s a bit far from home, don’t you think?”

Anya directed this question at the struggling pair of Englishmen, who, while they didn’t verbally answer, both shook their heads in agreement.

“Lets get Spike back to the Magic Box, then we’ll discuss our canine friends.” Giles gestured everyone to move along, practically dragging Spike along with him.


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

It was official. She still hated research. One thing that hadn’t changed at all. Dawn, however, was a different story. Her sister was immersed in a book, so focused on what she was reading she never noticed Buffy’s distraction.

They’d locked the doors at eight thirty, closing up the shop for the night, and now, at nine, Buffy was bored. Really really bored. Like getting up and finding anything else to do bored. Anything else.

Muttering a “I’ll be right back Dawnie” which was completely ignored, Buffy got up and wandered around for a bit.

Her feet carried her to the back room and she stood in the doorway staring at the tools of her trade. The last time she’d been in this room, she and Giles had well, not exactly fought, but their words were harsh nonetheless.

Walking into the room fully, Buffy had the weirdest feeling of deja vu. She’d stayed back from a fight, letting others go out and battle for her. That wasn’t right. She should be the one out there looking for answers, patrolling, not the scoobies – and certainly not Spike.

So why was she still here, safe inside these walls?

Because as much as she knew she should be the one out there, Buffy also knew she really wasn’t ready. Her mind wasn’t ready for the constant battling to fight the good fight and just maybe her body wasn’t ready either. For sure her soul wasn’t.

One of the last things she’d said to Giles crossed her mind. “If Dawn dies, I’m done with it. I’m quitting.” But it wasn’t Dawn that died, it was herself.

Could she do it? Could she just walk away from it all? Stop being the slayer – stop being the strong one? Could she?

The weight of the world was still on her shoulders, she was the only one capable . . . no, that wasn’t true, at least not any more.

Someone else had picked up the slack in her absence, someone had done her job, in her name, while she’d been gone. The really weird part of that, aside from his willingness to do so, was that it was Spike, the vampire, who was doing her job.

And tonight, folks, the part of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is going to be played by William the Bloody, former Slayer of Slayers.

Irony much?

Without much conscious thought, Buffy began to tape up her hands, loosening up her muscles in preparation for a work-out. Not only hadn’t he left, that damned vampire had fought the good fight for months, for her memory.

Oh yeah, he deserved cookies, not just crumbs.

Swinging her fist, the first connection with the punching bag went right through her, but the second was easier, the third moreso. By the time she’d hit her rhythm, Buffy wasn’t thinking at all anymore, just moving.

Even if her mind and soul didn’t remember and mostly wanted to forget, her body knew this, found comfort in the physical release.

So lost in the sensations, Buffy didn’t hear the bell at the front of the shop when the door flew open, but Dawn’s shriek caught her attention.

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

By the time they got to the Magic Shop, Spike was wishing the pain was enough to make him pass out, but unfortunately, he wasn’t that lucky. The upside was, the bleeding had mostly stopped, and slow healing had started, but he needed blood, otherwise he wasn’t going to heal anytime soon. Needed human blood too, and someone was going to have to set his hand and soon, because he could feel the bones setting.

“Watcher” he spoke quietly as they neared the front door, “need to set m’hand first.”

Looking down at the currently useless hand dangling at his side, Giles nodded his head. “Right, let’s get inside and I’ll see to it.”

Gesturing the others to hold open the door, they gingerly maneuvered through the door. Dawn looked up, seeing everyone file in, took one look at Spike and shrieked.

“Niblet, ‘m fine.” Spike grimaced as they eased him down into one of the chairs, wincing even more as he put his hand up on the table. Dawn covered her mouth, unable to look away, while the others just stared. His hand was nearly severed from his wrist, the bones of three of his fingers mangled, and his thumb was also nearly torn off. “Need blood. There any here?”

Giles shook his head, motioning to Xander, “go to the hospital, see if you can liberate some from the bloodbank, if not get to the butcher’s immediately.”

The boy started to object, but Anya’s shaking head stopped him. “C’mon Xander. We’ll be right back.”

Buffy had come at a rush from the training room, hearing Dawn’s shriek, tearing the tape from her fingers. “What happened?”

Answering her over his shoulder, Giles said “we ran into the beasts Spike has been tracking. They managed to get him down and he’s lost some blood.” As Buffy came to his side, he continued, “and we need to set his hand as well.”

Her indrawn breath was deep, catching Spike’s attention. The look on her face was, to him, indescribable. Anger, fear and a hundred other things played across her features, but the one that warmed his heart was the concern in her eyes for him.

“That doesn’t look good. Can we do it here or should we bring him to the hospital?” The two men shared a look. If Buffy was suggesting a hospital visit, it had to be pretty bad. Normally someone had to be more than half dead for her to even think of it.

“No, hospital wouldn’t help. Probably mistake me for a dead man, wouldn’t bother setting it’ was Spike’s pragmatic response. “Better we do it right here.”

Tara’s voice popped up “I think I can help. As long as his fingers are in the right place, I can try.”

“Might as well do it.” Spike would rather get this over and done with, since the pain wasn’t getting any easier to deal with.

“Right. Buffy, you’re going to have to hold him down while I set these fingers. Tara, let me know as soon as you are ready.” Sharing a look with Spike, Giles motioned to Dawn, then raised his eyebrow.

“Dawnie, why don’t you go catch up with Xander and Anya.” Buffy spoke before either of the other two could think of something for the teen to do. Each of them had their own reasons for not wanting her to witness what was about to happen. She started to balk, then when Spike just raised a brow in her direction, Dawn relented and raced out the door.

Tara was bustling about, gathering herbs and a few bandages that they kept in case of emergencies, and glancing once at the grimacing vampire, she grabbed the bottle of Drambuie that Giles kept in his small office. They didn’t have anything stronger, well they did, but Spike would have to swallow down the herbs, and there was no telling if they would even work on a vampire, so the scotch was the surer bet. Handing the nearly full bottle to him, Tara said firmly, “drink.”

Though it wasn’t his best stash, it was still the good stuff, but Giles merely raised an eyebrow at the girl. Her only response was “it’s the quickest and safest for him right now.”

Her hand unconsciously running up and down his lesser injured arm, Buffy waited with Giles while Spike downed the scotch. Didn’t take very long before he was feeling the effects, since he had lost some blood, and once his eyes closed for longer than a moment, Giles nodded to the two girls.

Eyeing him, Buffy decided the easiest way to control his movements would be to sit on his lap, facing him, with her arms wrapped around him and the back of the chair. This way, if he did go into game face and jump up, she’d be able to hold him down. Straddling him, hooking her ankles behind him, Buffy looked down to his face. The pain he was trying to hide was etched across his features and she knew it had to be bad because he never even commented on her position.

Taking his hand, Giles worked rapidly to push the fingers into the correct positions. Spike jumped with the first, then roared his pain into Buffy’s shoulder. When Giles paused, he ground out against her, “just do it.”

He struggled against her grip, fighting to get free from the pain at the end of his arm, but she held on tighter, whispering words into his ear, trying to get him to focus on something else, but it wasn’t working. Spike growled, roared and bucked against her hold. Buffy nearly fell off his lap, when Giles moved his ring finger into position. She was shaking from the effort of holding him still, her muscles contracting and tightening each time he flinched away from the pain. Tara laid a hand on his shoulder, calming him a little, but when Giles tried setting his middle finger, Spike vamped and snapped at her hand. Not moving it away, she sent soothing energies into him, murmuring softly in counterpoint to Buffy’s mumblings.

The two girls tried surrounding him, but he continued to buck against them both. Buffy held on, his face now tucked hard against her neck. His middle finger was the worst, broken in at least three spots, and twisted nearly around, the nail facing his palm, and Giles was having a hell of a time trying to get it straight. He moved the finger, Spike roared and vamped, his fangs clamping down on Buffy’s shoulder, through her shirt, drawing blood. No one spoke, and Buffy just held him closer.

Drawing her closer, Spike knew only two things, pain and her, in his arms, her blood sliding down his throat. He growled, this time possessively, his free arm coming round to hold her to him. Spike stopped bucking against her, instead quieting, her blood doing more to calm him than anything. Tara rubbed her hand down his back, murmuring a sleep spell under her breath.

His fangs still embedded in her upper shoulder, Buffy clutched him tighter, her hands tensing around his upper arms. She’d almost expected this to happen and wasn’t at all surprised when it did. He was in enormous pain and hadn’t passed out, not even when Giles had to twist his fingers back to where they were supposed to be. She didn’t care that he’d bit her.

She didn’t care that he’d bit her. Buffy nearly let him go in that moment, when it struck her what she’d allowed him to do.

A/N: The great thing about writing is that, if you are good at it, sometimes the story just takes over and writes itself. Seems to be what’s happening here. Oh well, if you don’t like it, blame my muses, James Marsters and the fairytale Beauty and the Beast (oh c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t recognize the correlations). Title is from Peter Gabriel’s song of the same name and the quotes as attributed. Ah, if you ever get to Wales, run, don’t walk to Tintern Abbey. Disclaimers unfortunately still in full force and effect.]

Previously: Spike got used as a chew toy by the new bad and he accidently bit Buffy. This picks up shortly afterwards.

26. Red rain is falling down all over me.

Sensations sweet,
felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
William Wordsworth, lines completed a few miles above Tintern Abbey

Your hand found mine.
Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot.
Oh, my carpenter,
the fingers are rebuilt.
Anne Sexton, The Touch


By the time Xander, Anya and Dawn returned to the Magic Shop, four bags of O negative and additional supplies in hand, Spike was laid out on the couch in the training room, Buffy was sitting on the floor next to him, with Giles and Tara cleaning up the mess in the main area. The trail of blood that had dried up was easy to flake off the floor, but the wet stuff pooled under the chair was a bit harder to clean up. Spike was out cold, Buffy not much better and strangely enough, Giles wasn’t in the least bit upset with what had happened. Wasn’t like he planned it, wasn’t like he’d been trying to bite her, it was a reflex action, done in the throes of pain, and given the amount of pain he already was in, Giles wasn’t surprised when the chip’s reaction was masked. It had been, however, despite Tara’s best efforts to put the vampire to sleep, the last straw that knocked him out.

They’d moved him, checking his injuries after he ingested slayer’s blood. The leg wounds and the minor bites on his legs were closed up, disappearing as they watched, and the gaping wounds on his hand had stopped bleeding finally. He’d not taken a lot of blood from Buffy, as near as Giles could tell, but she was still reeling from the after-effects. On wobbly knees, she’d followed him into the training room, slumping down next to the couch.

Giles and Tara worked in silence, both of them wrapped up in their own thoughts. Tara’d never seen Spike awake and in so much pain, she’d not seen him after Glory’s beating until almost a week later and he’d already been on the road to recovery. This was the first time she’d ever seen him badly injured. His hand looked like it had been fed through a meat grinder improperly, and only then because the fingers were still discernable. She’d nearly thrown up just looking at it.

But she’d helped him, as best she could, with her poor magics, hoping that the healing spell she’d woven around him would work, aided by Buffy’s blood.

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

She should be really upset with him, with herself. And yet, she almost couldn’t bring herself to care. Oh, not true, not really. He’d needed the healing – needed it like the rest of them needed air – and instinctively, he’d moved to take it, without thinking. But she’d heard him whimper in pain when he’d sunk his teeth into her skin, felt his tears on her shoulder and something inside her couldn’t blame him. So it wasn’t life threatening. But what good was a vampire warrior with one hand? What good would it be to further hamper an already handicapped warrior? None at all.

A damaged Spike was a Spike that couldn’t help her, couldn’t fight. And she knew, as well as she knew herself that him losing the use of one of his hands would be damaging to his spirit beyond repair. He needed the fight, needed something to feel useful.

So she’d just held on tighter. Held him close to her chest, let his tears drip down her shoulder, mixing with the blood he couldn’t swallow. And never realized her own tears had slid down her face.

Despite her best efforts not to, she compared his bite to that of the other vampires who’d come close enough to her to get a taste. Only one of them had she offered herself to willingly, until now. While it had started out as an accident, Buffy wasn’t sorry he’d done it. Angel, in the midst of his own life-threatening crisis had bitten hard, nearly draining her, and causing no little amount of pain. The others didn’t really count, the Master and Dracula, because they’d gotten no more than just a little taste. But Spike, injured and out of it, hadn’t drained her at all, instead had cried when he realized what he’d done. That he’d slipped into unconsciousness almost immediately after clamping down was immaterial. She’d felt his tears, felt his remorse.

Huh.

Spike hadn’t wanted to bite her.

A vampire that didn’t want slayer’s blood. The Slayer of Slayers, William the Bloody, didn’t want her blood. Part of her was just a little miffed, but far more of her understood why he’d reacted the way he did. They’d come to far in the past couple of years to make this really simple. Despite all his attempts to kill her, despite their many close calls, this was the first time Spike had gotten a taste of her.

But the weirdest thing of all wasn’t that she understood his involuntary reaction to the pain, but that she was upset when he’d cried.

So was she angry? The answer was no.

Was she upset that he’d bitten her? Again no.

Was this as bad as what had happened to Angel?

Nearly so. In this time, in this place. Yeah it was just about the same. So, was she going to threaten him with further pain just to satisfy a non-existent need for revenge?

Not anytime soon.

Did she trust him? Yeah.

Did she trust him enough? Oh yeah.

He’d bitten her, on her shoulder, not her neck, which was just as close, and had more blood available. Hell, her jugular veins and carotid arteries were there, all within striking reach, and as a vampire he knew that better than anyone else. And what had he gone for? Her shoulder.

So yeah, she trusted him. Trusted him enough to offer more. Because if he wanted to use that hand any time in the next couple of weeks, she was going to have to donate. And she didn’t feel like bleeding drip by drip into a cup for him either.

She leaned against his chest, watching him. The clean white of the bandages was a stark contrast to his black tee shirt. They’d elevated his badly damaged right hand, propping it against the back of the couch. His left hand was across his chest, and as she watched him, it twitched a couple of times, then was still.

“Spike” she whispered, “can you hear me?” His hand twitched again, almost in agitation and she tried again to reach him. “Its okay. Well, I mean its not really okay, but its not bad. I understand why you did it and I’m not gonna dust you, not even gonna get mad. I could, but, no point. So you can wake up now and I’m babbling” Buffy huffed, exasperated with herself. “Really. I’m not gonna stake you. Giles isn’t either. So its all good. C’mon Spike wake up and talk to me.”

“Would, but you’re natterin’ on well enough for both of us” he spoke without opening his eyes, afraid to look at her and see disgust and anger in her hazel green depths.

“Hah” oh that’s just brilliant babble-girl . . . Can’t you come up with something a little more intelligent? Buffy grew serious seeing that he wouldn’t face her. “Hey, its really okay. You were in pain and just couldn’t control it so much” she paused, running a hand over his forearm. “How’s your head now?”

“Throbbing in thirds to the hand” was his sardonic reply.

They were silent for a moment, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. When he spoke, Buffy was surprised. “I’ll leave soon as I’m healed up. Get away so you don’t have to take care of it.”

Took her more than a minute to catch on, but when she did, her hand clenched around his forearm, digging into his skin.

“Leave? Why would you?” Shaking her head in denial, Buffy said “no. No. Don’t. Why?”

“Bit you sunshine, didn’t mean to, but did it all the same.” Still with his eyes closed, Spike turned his face away, into the back of the couch.

Thinking to herself very deeply for a moment, Buffy came to a very swift decision. She was the only one who could change his mind, and she knew he was doing this out of some misguided sense of nobility.

Reaching for his injured hand, Buffy began to undo the gauze wrappings, revealing his mangled flesh. Her blood had worked miracles, because the wounds didn’t look nearly as bad as they had earlier, but there was still a long way to go before he could use it again, the damage was just too extensive for the little bit of her blood he’d managed to swallow down.

His fingers twitched as the air hit them and Spike finally opened his eyes to see what she was doing. Buffy had sat up on the couch, next to his hips, his injured hand now cradled in both of hers.

“You know, slayer blood is the best healing agent for vampires” she began conversationally, “Giles never mentioned it, not until Faith poisoned Angel and then hid the antidote.”

“If you drink enough of it,” she continued, “it will heal almost fatal injuries.” She paused long enough for him to glance at her face. “And it works really well on not-so-fatal ones.”

Spike just continued to watch her, not really sure where she was going with this, but unable to turn away.

“Thing is, I was planning on offering you some anyway.”

“Slayer” he growled. “What are you sayin?”

“I think its pretty plain. This hand wouldn’t heal for weeks, even with regular human blood.” She stared straight into his eyes, willing him to understand. “I can’t let you go. I need you . . . need your help. Not ready to do this on my own yet.”

It was as much of an admission as she was willing to give. But he got it, like he always did. He always knew her, sometimes better than she knew herself. Without a word, Spike pulled her down, her head resting against his still chest.

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

He must have passed out again, because when he came to Tara was re-bandaging his hand. Seeing he was awake again, she spoke. “Dawn brought back some splints, so I figured it was best to do that while you were out. Do you feel any better?”

Snorting a “no” at her, Spike tried to sit up.

“Don’t get up yet. I’ve got some blood for you. You want it now?”

“How’s Buffy?” was her only answer.

“If I tell you she’s fine will you believe me and drink?”

There was a twinkle in his eye, as he said “you gonna answer me with questions until I say yes?”

Tara’s eyes glinted back with equal mischief “probably. You gonna believe me?”

He couldn’t help but respond, smiling back at her. “All right pet, gimme the goods.”

Holding the cup for him, Tara started speaking again. “She’s worried about you. Otherwise she’s fine. She changed her shirt for one of yours that got left here.”

At his raised eyebrows, Tara smiled a bit. “She didn’t want Xander getting stupid about it. They brought back four bags of O neg.” Looking down at the drained cup, she asked, “want another one?”

“Please pet” as she got up to leave, he touched her hand “thanks Tara.”

“When you’re feeling better, I have a problem that I’d like your advice on, if its okay?” She looked away afraid he would reject her.

“Anything. Anytime.” Spike settled back against the couch, trying to will away the pain.

He opened his eyes when he heard footsteps nearing, knowing who it was before she spoke.

“‘Lo Niblet. Come to check on me?”

“How do you feel?” There was real concern in her voice and a trace of tears as well.

“‘ve been better. Also been worse.” He shifted, trying to get comfortable.

Dawn put down the cup of blood, moving to help him. “Okay now?”

“Yeah much better.” Catching her face in his hand, Spike looked into her eyes. “Hey, Bit, I’ll be right as rain soon enough.”

“Promise?” She sniffed a bit.

“Promise” pausing a moment, he mock pouted, “where’s m’treat?”

“Oh. Oh. Right here.”

Handing it to him, she unintentionally eased his current biggest fear. “Buffy wanted to bring it in, but I whined enough to get my way. She’s worried about you” pausing barely long enough to breathe, she went on “Giles is making with the books, he’s narrowed it down, well he’s pretty sure he has, but he’s been like wanting your opinion and Buffy’s like ‘no, he needs to rest it can wait until later’ and Giles was like ‘but Buffy this is important’ and Xander popped up with something like ‘he’s a demon, he’ll be fine with what rest he’s gotten’ and then Buffy got mad at Xander and what’s with you and my sister?”

It took Spike more than a minute to catch up with everything she’d said, and longer than that to come up with an answer to her question.

“Why do you ask?” Spike figured he could buy himself a little more time, but catching sight of the look on her face, he had to re-think that.

“Spike. I saw you earlier, before you guys all left. You wanted to kiss her goodby and she wanted to let you.”

“Brat. Spyin isn’t nice.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Spying? Duh. You guys were like in plain sight.” She poked his chest playfully. “As in not behind closed doors. Fair game for peeking. So?”

Christ she was like a dog with a bone. Not giving up at all. “What of it?”

“Just wanna know. Did you? Wanna kiss my sister?” Her face was, for the moment, unreadable.

Bringing the cup to his lips, Spike muttered “yeah. Did. Do.”

“Good. She needs it.”

And with that she left him alone.

Bloody brat.

He didn’t realize that the sister in question had been standing in the doorway until her voice broke through his confused musings.

“She did nearly the same thing to me just now in the bathroom.”

“Did she now?”

“Yeah. Cept she asked me if I wanted to kiss you back.” Buffy sat down on the couch, her butt up against his legs.

“And you told her?”

“My answer was a little different from yours.”

“Oh”

She could hear the disappointment, didn’t need to see it. “Yeah. I told her that I needed to kiss you back.”

“Wha?” His pleasure was sweet to hear.

“Yeah. Just like I need to right now.” And she did.

Pulling back, Buffy said, “I actually came in to ask if you’re up to heading home. Giles has found out what it was – the dogs – and he’s going to do a bit more research at home, and” she sighed “I’m babbling again.”

“Yeah you are sunshine, but its precious. Go on, and?”

“I thought you’d be more comfy at home.”

“Yeah, would work. Couch is good but a bed would be nicer.”

Spike moved to get up, and Buffy’s arms were there to help him. Her next words were spoken so softly he thought he imagined them until he caught the look on her face.

“Wanna do this in private anyway.”