A/N: I haven’t said it before, but I’ll say it now. I like Wesley. I liked Wesley when he showed up in Sunnydale the first time (in a geeky kind of way, I’m a sucker for an English accent and brains). But when he showed up in Los Angeles . . . Um yeah, there was the eye candy Angel had been missing. *grins* (Our girl Aly is very lucky). And I always thought that, the three Englishmen all had more in common than first met the eye. Aside from the obviously striking good looks and wonderful accents (ironic that only one of them is a real Englishman!!). The title comes from one of the quotes, which are, as always, as attributed. Disclaimers in effect.]

Previously: Tara has brought her concerns about Willow to Spike. Buffy doesn’t want to tell anyone else about being in heaven. And Wesley is still in town.

41. Sluggish men

There are some sluggish men who are improved by drinking; as there are fruits that are not good until they are rotten.
Samuel Johnson

Experience is that name that everyone gives to their mistakes.
Oscar Wilde

The first thing in human personality that dissolves in alcohol is dignity.
Anonymous



As much as talking to Spike had helped, three days later, Tara wasn’t any closer to a decision. Neither was she any closer to Willow.

School was starting tomorrow for Dawn and since their shopping trip days earlier, Dawn had been in a frenzied state. Nothing was worse than a fifteen year old girl starting a new school, especially when the school was on the hellmouth. Part of her problem had been the shopping trip. It hadn’t lasted very long, in fact, the girls had returned less than two hours after they’d left, Buffy retreated straight up into her room and Dawn had gone over to Janice’s in a slight huff. Spike had taken Dawn out just last night, before Wesley and Giles came over, to get the rest of Dawn’s things. Neither sister spoke about it, although Buffy had told her it was difficult, Dawn just rolling her eyes and making a face.

UC Sunnydale was open also, Willow’s classes were starting today, but hers didn’t start until later in the week.

At the moment, the three Englishmen were sprawled in various positions in the living room exhausted and hung over. They’d been up until all hours trying to translate some of the older scrolls before Wesley left later on during the day. Picking up some of the empty bottles she wondered if he was going to have to put off leaving until much much later.

She and Buffy moved quietly around the sleeping men, stepping over out-stretched legs and gently moving their arms into more comfortable positions. Giles looked the least comfortable, his head tilted at an awkward angle while Spike was stretched out next to him, slouched low, his head resting against the back of the couch. Wesley was sprawled in the armchair, his exceedingly long legs extended out nearly to the couch.

They looked so disreputably cute that the two girls kept exchanging glances and trying not to laugh out loud.

In spite of the fact Wesley had brought not so good news, Buffy had reversed her earliest opinion of him. His first trip to Sunnydale had been an absolute disaster. Arriving as an unwanted and unwelcomed replacement for Giles, Wesley had been so stiff there had been only one possible response to him.

Leaving Sunnydale in disgrace had probably been the best thing to ever happen to him. He’d found himself, found some security. Funny how it had come working for Angel.

Throwing a glance at Tara, Buffy lifted Wesley’s glasses off his face, putting them within reach on the coffee table. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, if you liked tall and thin and smart. Moving toward Spike, Buffy smiled. She had her own personal hottie, didn’t need to be looking anywhere else. He looked so . . . peaceful and utterly adorable when he slept. He didn’t look like the picture of evil. If anything he looked like an angel or at least an adorable little boy. Running her hand down his cheek, Buffy smiled when he shifted and inhaled.

She rarely had time like this to just sit and watch him. Buffy thought back, trying to remember any time she’d ever had an opportunity to just watch any of her boyfriends. Stopping short, she realized that yeah, Spike was her boyfriend. Smiling again, Buffy wondered what he would think about that label. Not realizing her hand was lingering on his face, Buffy leaned forward, looking at him closer. Boyfriend was a term that just . . . a soft laugh escaped her, followed by a gasp of surprise when his deep sleepy voice startled her. “Come snuggle with me kitten. Need your warmth.”

Snaking a hand around her waist, Spike pulled her down onto his lap. “What’s got you smilin’?”

She had to say it once, just to see the look on his face. “Just watching my boyfriend sleep.”

And just as she expected, the look on his face was priceless. It was so . . . Buffy couldn’t help her giggles. There was no describing it. His eyes were wide, his mouth was open and there was just . . . It was so classically stunned that Tara, who was just coming back into the room, stopped short and started giggling.

“Buffy?” Tara’s soft laughs were infectious. “Did you break Spike?”

Collapsing onto his chest, Buffy gave into the giggles that had been threatening. “Cute, sunshine, real cute. Go ‘head, laugh at me.”

Their laughter got louder until Spike shushed them both, gesturing to his fellow Englishmen. “Don’t wanna wake the boys, do ya?”

Which quieted both girls. Pushing Buffy a little bit away, Spike dropped his voice, not wanting to be overheard. “Buffy, did you mean that?”

“Guess I just sort of realized it, you know? Sort of just discovered it myself.” Her eyes were focused on his, unafraid to face him.

“Not sure ‘m boyfriend material, but if that’s what you wanna call me, won’t object.”

Huffing a little bit, Buffy thumped him lightly. “Knew you would say something like that. You know what I mean. Stop being so . . . so you.”

Spike smirked at her, turning her insides to mush and then, damn him, he smiled at her putting his tongue just under his teeth. “But you like me this way, kitten.”

“Gggrrrrr Spike.” But she had a smile on her face, which only made him smirk more.

In one swift movement, Spike had lifted her up and was halfway to the stairs before she realized it. “C’mon kitten, your boyfriend wants you.”

Her laughing “Sssssspppppiiiiiiikkkkkkeee” followed them down the stairs then his answering voice rolled across her skin “Buffy.”

Tara’s answering laughter floated up to them.


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

Dawn was chomping at the bit. Giles and Wesley were taking too long to translate the texts. Why they’d decided to start translating from the beginning, instead of the end she didn’t really understand. Were they trying to drive her mad? What was wrong with them?

Didn’t they understand she had to know?

Once Wesley had arrived and told them he’d found the texts, Dawn had been on edge. She didn’t want to wait for someone else to tell her what, and who she was made from and how they’d done it.

Dawn was convinced the answers were in the newest of the texts.

When she’d left the house this morning, Spike and the other two were asleep in the living room, glasses and empty beer bottles next to priceless and ancient scrolls. Running past them out the front door, Dawn was tempted to steal the most likely volume, but changed her mind. Better she waited until Wesley was gone and Giles completely focused on what he was doing. At least that was what she’d thought.

But now, coming back in the door a couple of hours later to find two of the three men still in the same positions, Dawn changed her mind. Of all of them, Spike would have been the one to wake up and catch her. Now that he was gone, Dawn decided this was her best opportunity.

Quietly tiptoeing past both men, Dawn dropped to her knees beside the box of thin leather-bound volumes. With a quick glance over her shoulder, Dawn grabbed the top four books. Flipping through them, she discarded three that weren’t written in English. Grabbing some more, Dawn quickly checked again and found three more that were.

Stash in hand, Dawn looked around and quickly scurried from the living room up the stairs.

Hiding the books under her mattress, Dawn figured she would read them later, when no one was around.


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

He’d fallen asleep, something he rarely did after they . . . well, had sex. Buffy snorted a bit. It wasn’t just sex. Just sex was what she’d done with Parker, she understood that now. Sex is pretty much what she’d done with Angel too. Riley had been different, they’d had something a bit more, but even then that couldn’t compete to what she and Spike did. Sexual marathons or Olympics was more like it. . . but no, truth was that wasn’t it either. Spike had years of experience beyond what Riley could ever hope to have and well, the upside was after a happy, he didn’t go all evil on her. He might kid himself about being evil, but Buffy had seen the truth, had known it when he’d taken that beating for Dawn.

Maybe it was the whole being back from heaven thing, or maybe it was just that she’d stopped kidding herself about the nature of good and evil, but Buffy knew he wasn’t such a bad guy. He was more like an over roasted marshmallow, all blackened and crispy outside, but soft and sweet on the inside. Not so tasty burned stuff, . . . okay, that was just not true. Looking at his face, Buffy had to admit he was probably the best looking guy she’d ever been with. Oh yeah, he was . . . edible.

A small giggle escaped from her. At least she’d be able to beat up anyone dumb enough to hit on him. But he wasn’t, he was hampered by the chip. Growing serious, she reached out to touch his face. Giles had said . . . chip or no chip, he trusted Spike. How long was it supposed to last anyway? Would it still . . . could it be removed without hurting him?

Shaking her head, Buffy drove those thoughts away. She wasn’t ready to really think about that yet. Closing her eyes, Buffy snuggled closer to his chest and settled in for a nap.


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


Tara had felt much better after talking to Spike, although he hadn’t really said much back to her. What he’d done was just allow her to vent and get it all out.

The only think was, she still wasn’t sure what to do. But what Spike had done for her wasn’t anything direct, but rather had a totally unexpected side-effect. She’d been able to sleep next to Willow. Baring her soul, so to speak, to Spike had made sleeping next to Willow a lot easier.

And how weird was that? She could sleep next to Willow without getting all uptight and worried about things.

Still hadn’t really talked to her, but for some strange reason it wasn’t so pressing anymore.


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

Willow ran into the building at UC Sunnydale, knowing she was cutting it close.

She didn’t know what had been bothering Tara, but for the last couple of days things between them had gone sort of back to normal, the way they were before Glory had messed with Tara. It made her feel good, like Tara was finally getting back to her old self. Maybe I’ll take her out to dinner tonight to celebrate . . . something. Maybe they could go out with Xander and Anya. She knew that Xander wouldn’t agree to go out with Buffy and Spike so she wasn’t even going to suggest it.

Not that she’d seen much of Buffy lately. Not since bringing her back. Which was like so . . . wrong. Willow had been the one to rescue her, the one to bring her safe from wherever she’d been trapped. And who does Buffy go and turn to? Him. . . . which really . . . Xander did kind of have a point. Before Glory, Buffy had been all eeeeewwwww Spike is evil and bad and disgusting and . . . and now, it was oooooooohhhhhh Spike.

Willow made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. She was right there with Xander’s confusion.

Not that she couldn’t figure out what the attraction was, okay so she was gay, but she wasn’t blind. Spike was good looking . . . okay so that too was kind of an understatement . . . Spike was hot.

But still dead, still a soulless vampire. And hey, he was the very same guy that had threatened her and Xander, tried to bite and turn her, hurt Buffy and just . . . he’d nearly betrayed them all to Adam . . . okay, so he’d come through with Glory but that was it. Spike was basically not a good guy, nor was he liable to be trustworthy, at least not in the long term.

Willow realized she was rushing forward while everyone around her was standing still. She knew she was running late, but she hadn’t thought it was that late. Rushing into the small lecture hall, it wasn’t until Willow sat down that she realized why no one else was moving.

Everyone else was frozen in place.


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

Wesley stirred, slowly coming awake as his brain registered all his sore muscles, pains and the dull ache pounding in his head. Groaning into his hands he made a personal vow to never again try and match a vampire drink for drink. Especially this one. Gods he was deceptive.

Short, slight little bugger was . . .. Gah. Wesley felt like he was going to pitch his stomach onto the floor.

There was a noise by the stairs and Wesley slowly turned his head to look at whatever it was.

“Dawn” he rasped out.

“You okay?” She was quiet something he greatly appreciated at that moment.

Grunting some sort of positive response at her Wesley groaned into his hands. Dawn hesitated at the door uncertain whether her presence was welcome. “Do you need anything?”

“Would kill for some aspirin. . . . or a mallet.”

Thinking for a second Dawn giggled softly. “We have both Wes, which one do you want first?”

“I’m thinking the mallet. More effective and much faster.”

She was silent for a moment. Then there was rustling, but it was neither loud enough nor lasted long enough to make him pick up his head. He didn’t think there existed anything short of an apocalypse that would get him moving faster than he was. Which was sloth speed. He didn’t move until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Barely lifting his head up to look, Wesley chuckled despite the pain in his head. Dawn was standing next to him, a mallet in one hand.

Silently she offered it to him.


[A/N: I always thought that neither Giles nor Tara went far enough with trying to get their points across to Willow – but I also think they missed part of the point also. You know, the point that Willow’s problems had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with power and control. On that note, things might get a bit rocky here and there for the redheaded one. The title is the title of one of my favorite poems, by William Blake. The quotes are as attributed and the disclaimers are in full force and effect.]

Previously: Wesley’s gone back to Los Angeles leaving behind the texts for Giles. Dawn’s borrowed four books without any else’s knowledge and Spike allowed Buffy to convince him that no one should know about her being in heaven. But is she right?

42. The Poison Tree

If you betray me, can I take a better revenge than to love
the person you hate?
Pierre Corneille, Titus and Berenice, act 4, sc. 3

Love is whatever you can still betray . . .
Betrayal can only happen if you love.
John le Carre, A Perfect Spy

Giving up doesn’t always mean you are weak;
sometimes it means you are strong enough to let go.
Anonymous



They’d been patrolling for about two hours when they came across the first signs of the hounds. True to form, Spike scented the blood long before Buffy did, but she was the one to find the body.

Searching around for other signs, Spike found the second one. “Got another here, pet.”

“You thinking dogs?” Buffy looked around from her crouched position by the first body.

“Unless we got somethin’ else to worry about.” Spike rolled the corpse over with his foot. “It’s all birds. Haven’t found any blokes . . .”

Buffy turned to look up at him. “What . . . no guys. Spike?”

“All young chits – all recently had sex. . . guess most of these birds are from the college.” He stared off, looking past the grave markers and out into nothing.

“You have thinking face . . . spill it.” Dusting off her hands, Buffy stood up, wandering over to the second body.

“Somethin’ the Huntsman said . . . sounded like it might’ve been about payment.” Running a hand through his hair, Spike avoided looking at her for a moment. “Dunno pet, jus’ thinkin’ out loud.”

“Ahuh. Sounds like more than that.” Crossing her arms, Buffy waited, knowing Spike would start talking in . . .

“Jus’, some of what Oxford translated could be taken another way. More like ‘we seek payment for that which was taken from heaven’ which is you . . . you’re the only one I know’s been in heaven of late.”

He still wouldn’t look at her. He knew she really didn’t want to talk about this, at least not with anyone else. He knew she trusted him to keep her secrets, which warmed him to the bone. But he also knew she wasn’t about to budge unless there was overwhelming evidence to contradict her decision. The trick was getting her to admit it.

This was only her second night patrolling since she’d been back and the strain was showing. Her reactions were just a second off, but he didn’t think anyone but himself would pick up on it. She’d been training, but her workouts were half-hearted, except for the last one when they’d sparred for a bit.

A theory was beginning to take form in his head, one he was loathe to give voice too. But if he did, she might be . . . willing to change her mind. Changing his mind Spike faced her. “All right, kitten, here’s what I’m thinking. Red brought you back from heaven.”

Pacing now, Spike was gesturing. “Right, same time you come through from heaven, the hounds of hell are released. ‘M thinkin’, they aren’t here to get you, but to take payment in exchange for lettin’ you go.”

He stopped short, turning to watch her. She had that look on her face, the one he almost hated – the ‘I’m the Slayer, I know better than you’ look. Spike faced her dead on, not backing down from her, not taking his words back.

And watched while the wheels in her head turned. He knew, half a second after she did, when she’d realized his theory might actually have some validity. Her facial muscles were working like her brain was trying to say something her mouth nearly refused to say.

Well, he wasn’t going to make it easier on her. If his words made her change her mind then she had to say it out loud. There was no one saying the girls had to be told, at least not right now, but he still was of the opinion that Rupert should know. For once, though, he kept his mouth shut.

Buffy started to say something and then he didn’t hear anything because his ears were ringing. Turning around, Spike lost his balance and fell. Six Cythreuliaids. Fucking hell. Wobbling a bit, Spike cleared his head then joined the fray.


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

She didn’t want to be here. Feeling decidedly out of place and very uncomfortable, Tara reverted back to her old patterns. Ducking her head, fidgeting quietly, these were all obvious signs to anyone who cared enough to notice. But no one was noticing.

No, instead, she was the one doing the noticing. Noticing how much she didn’t fit in, how very uncomfortable this was, how self-absorbed her girlfriend was, how . . . mean Xander really was to Anya.

That surprised her. And not in a good way. Since they’d gotten to the restaurant, the conversation had flowed around her, and she was content to not contribute in her state. Willow kept going on about herself, while every time Anya tried to talk, Xander practically shushed her.

And he was not very nice about it. Tara thought that Anya sometimes said things inappropriately only because she’d forgotten some things about being human. It was confusion, which should be helped, not ridiculed like Xander usually did.

So yeah, she didn’t want to be here. In fact, she’d rather be home doing something else, like laundry or cleaning the bathroom or . . . . anything.

The restaurant was packed, and they’d had to wait for a table, but the wait was becoming a problem, because the last thing she wanted was to sit around and talk – or rather listen to Xander and Willow talk at each other. The evening hadn’t started out with much promise and it had gone steadily downhill the longer they sat and waited. Scanning around at the crowd, Tara thought of ways she could get out of continuing this whole evening. Too bad Buffy and Spike had gone patrolling, otherwise she’d call the cell phone and have them come get her. She was so uncomfortable that faking a stomachache might not pose a problem much longer.

Anya’s voice brought her back to the table, but it was Xander’s return comment that just bugged her, and she very nearly said something about it, but her natural shyness kept her silent. Catching poor Anya’s eye, she tried to show her some support by smiling at her, but the tears pooling in the ex-demon’s eyes told the real story.

Tara’s fists clenched in her lap, echoing the tightening in her belly. Tingles began racing through her muscles and her vision kept wavering. Alternating patterns of white energy flashed before her eyes, superimposed over the figures sitting with her, like a negative image of everything. The waitress passed by their table, holding up her hand in a ‘one minute’ gesture that somehow irked the redhead beside her.

Muttering under her breath, Willow said “I’ll give you wait a minute.”

And then, everything went still. The noise stopped and the air grew thick. Tara could feel the magic pressing against her skin, knew Anya could feel it also by the stiffening of her shoulders, and the wide eyed look she threw at Willow. Slowly Tara turned to look at her girlfriend, fighting against the weighty air. Willow’s eyes flashed dark and her cute little bow mouth got that set look to it. “Come.”

And the waitress, who had just given them the brush off, moved slowly in their direction.

Abruptly, time snapped back into sync and the waitress was standing there, pad in hand, waiting to take their order. Tara couldn’t keep her mouth shut any longer “Willow, what did you do?”

“Just got her attention that’s all. Its no biggie.” Willow shrugged off Tara’s concerns. “We’ve been waiting for a while.”

“So? Its not a big deal to wait for our turn.” Tara felt the twitches and twinges building in her belly. This was not good. “We could have waited a little bit longer.”

“I’m hungry and we’ve been waiting long enough.” Willow turned a bright smile to the waitress, giving her order. Anya watched the emotions flickering across Tara’s face and felt the tension building. Smiling brightly and batting her eyes, Anya tried to say something but Xander cut her off, speaking over her to the waitress.

The back of her neck got hot, her arms were tensing from the strain of keeping her hands below the table and her jaw was beginning to hurt. Anya swung a hurt look at Xander, who kind of apologized by smiling at her and taking her hand.

“Willow, that wasn’t right.” Tara barely got the words out through her tight jaw.

“Its your turn baby, give the girl your order.” Completely ignoring Tara’s previous statement, Willow turned a bright smile to her girlfriend and waved a hand. Again the air went still, pressing heavily on her skin.

“Willow. Stop it now.” She ground out the words, her temper barely in check.

Waving her hand again, Willow smiled and released the waitress, saying “I’m not doing anything bad, just getting our dinner ordered.”

“No you’re not. This is wrong Willow, what you’re doing right now. Stop it.” Puling away from Willow, Tara shook her head. “This is wrong and you know it.”

“How is it wrong? I’m just getting our order in now. Not a big deal. Why are you getting so upset about this?” Willow turned to face her girlfriend, confusion etched on her features. “I’m not doing any thing wrong.”

“Not doing? Gods Willow, have you been paying attention? What is with you? This is so . . . . why waste energy this way? Magic isn’t something you should be using to get ridiculous things like your dinner order in first.” Tara found herself growing more agitated by the moment. And Willow’s innocent demeanor wasn’t helping matters.

“Tara? Baby, why is this bothering you?” Willow was genuinely confused. This wasn’t such a big deal, why was Tara making an issue of it?

“Why is this bothering me? Have you been . . . Willow, you use magic for the silliest reasons. Making breakfast, getting someone’s attention. What purpose does all that serve? You can do all that without using magic.” Tara was getting agitated, her voice starting to rise and people were beginning to look at them.

Willow narrowed her eyes. “I’m not using too much magic. So what I fixed breakfast. It’s not a crime to use the talents the Goddess has given me.”

“It is when you misuse them and abuse them. This isn’t about the end results Willow, this is about the means you are using to get there.” Tara pushed away from the table, her agitation growing. “Don’t you see what you’re doing?”

“I’m not doing anything. This isn’t such a big thing.” Willow had also pushed back from the table, while Anya took the opportunity to get up. “I’m just going to powder my nose. You continue.”

Xander looked from one girl to the other, uncertain what was happening. “Ah Wills? Maybe this should wait until later?”

Shooting him a glance, Willow shrugged. “I’m not sure what’s going on at all.”

“Oh please, Willow, stop acting like you don’t understand. What you’ve been doing is wrong. What you did to me and Dawn – Willow this has to stop. You have to stop using magic foolishly – just because you can. It’s wrong Willow and you have to stop.”

“I’m not using it to hurt anyone.”

“What about me and Dawnie? You hurt both of us.” Tara was on her feet now, her hands clenched beside her, her face pale with anger.

“What . . . how did I hurt you? I just used a little bit of your blood. Hardly cut you at all.” Willow was perched on the edge of her chair, earnestly trying to plead her case.

Shaking her head in denial, Willow said, “no. I was careful, I knew exactly how much to use and I didn’t give you too much.”

Staring at the redhead, Tara felt the rage reaching a breaking point. “How did you know? You checked? Somehow I don’t think you were all that thorough in your research. Did you even know that Lethe’s Bramble is deadly?”

“It is you know. Very deadly.” Anya’s voice sounded from the opposite side of the table, apparently she hadn’t been able to leave. “It should only be used outside the body, unless you’re trying to kill the other person.”

Willow was shaking her head. “No. I knew what I was doing. It wasn’t dangerous at all.”

“No Willow you’re wrong. It was dangerous. Can’t you see what you’re doing?” Angry tears sprang to Tara’s eyes. “How could you have done this? What were you thinking?”

And still Willow was shaking her head, but now Tara was just . . . “I can’t do this. I can’t . . . I don’t trust you Willow. I can’t be with you. You don’t even see what you’ve done.”

“Tara? Baby you . . . please don’t go.” Willow’s composure broke and tears fell. “Tara? Tara?”

But Tara was gone and Willow was just pleading with thin air.


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

It had taken some pleading and some coaxing, but Dawn had managed to get Buffy to agree to leaving her home alone. Surprisingly, she’d had an ally in Spike. He’d backed her up, pointing out that Dawn was 16 now and should be more than okay on her own. She’d been tempted to kiss him, but just settled for an enthusiastic hug.

So now here she was, snacks at the ready, soda chilled and priceless books strewn about haphazardly on her bed. What could be better? Brad Pitt or Jude Law or . . . . hey, her sister’s boyfriend . . . Dawn giggled. She was so over that crush – and how much creepier would that have been . . . crushing on your own father. Shuddering, Dawn stopped that train o’thoughts before it got any further. Not like she knew for sure anyway. Was probably just really hard wishful thinking on her part. Hey, the monks could just have easily used part of her mom and, thinking for a bit, Giles. Okay, that mental image was even ookier than lusting after Spike. Or they could have used Buffy and Angel. Eeewww . . . . nope, didn’t want to go there either. Just as long as the monks didn’t use Buffy and Xander, she’d be all happy. Coz, Xander, he just wasn’t one of her favorite people right now. Stretching out on her belly with her feet in the air, she flipped open the first journal.

An hour later she was no closer to finding out anything other than monks were pretty boring guys and that popcorn and marshmallows and soda just made you really burpy, when she spotted the first intriguing entry.

Checking the date of the entry, Dawn re-read it.

It was a description of a dark warrior, as the monk called it, and except for the hair color and clothing, Dawn thought the description sounded a bit like Spike. Reading faster, she sat up, grabbing the post-it notes she was using to mark interesting things.

And was rewarded not thirty seconds later when the writer mentioned the dark warrior was a vampire.

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

Once outside the restaurant, Tara realized a couple of things. First, she was really far away from Buffy’s house, secondly she wasn’t really wearing the best shoes for a long walk and lastly, but probably most importantly, she felt a whole lot better.

Okay, so, her palms were sweaty and her knees were kind of wobbly, but on the whole, she felt better. Like a weight had been lifted.

Deciding she really didn’t want to wait around to see if anyone was going to follow her out of the restaurant, Tara walked quickly down the street. There was a cemetery not too far, and she could swing by . . . and that was a crazy thought, but still, if they were around, she’d feel safer with them. She could always ask the mother for a cloaking spell until she found them.

Tara sped up, hearing the door of the restaurant open behind her. She suddenly wanted to put a whole lot of distance between her and Willow.


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

His head was swimming. One of those lousy buggers had gotten in a heavy blow to his head before the fight had even begun and Spike was still reeling. Of all demons he’d ever come across, he hated the ones they were fighting now. Carrion eaters, they were like hyenas . . . eating the leftovers from other predators. Like hyenas, they traveled in packs, deferring to the alpha. Unlike hyenas, these wankers walked upright. Which was okay with him, since his last encounter with four legged beasties hadn’t ended so well.. At least right away. The afters had been just lovely.

One of them got a swipe in across his chest and Spike stopped his happy thoughts, focusing on the matter at hand. Snapping the neck of one, Spike stole a glance at Buffy. She was holding her own, but flagging. He knew it just by the slump to her shoulders.

“Got my three. How’re you doin’ Slayer?” He figured the banter would get her blood pumping, not to mention his taking out more than her.

“Just dandy.” Grunting from the force of a blow to her solar plexus, Buffy faltered visibly.

Spike was at her side in a blur of vampire speed, the demon’s heart clenched in his fist. “Right here kitten. Let’s get this last bugger and head home.”

Gasping for air, she wheezed out “good idea. Let’s do just that.”

[A/N: I’m having so much fun writing this, I almost don’t want to stop, but I know that not everyone feels that way. *laughs at my girls*. The title is . . . well, there are two sources for this title. The first one is Rudyard Kipling’s famous poem of the same name (one of my very favorites) and the second source is a quote from the Bard – in As You Like It, act 5, sc. 4., which reads “Your ‘if’ is the only peacemaker; much virtue in ‘if’.” Such a small tiny little word – and yet it wields so much power. If not for this . . . . Quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers still in full force and effect.]

Previously: Buffy patrolled for only the second time since returning and she and Spike have found two bodies. Dawn has found what she believes is a clue in one of the journals, and Tara has just broken up with Willow. This is later on that same night.

43. If

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
if you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
if you can meet with triumph and disaster
and treat those two imposters just the same;
Rudyard Kipling, If

When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness;
instead keep your head up high and gaze into heaven
for that is where your heart has been sent to heal.
Anonymous

Children find everything in nothing;
men find nothing in everything.
Giacomo Leopardi, Zibaldone Scelto



The journal entry was dated February 1911.

‘We have spotted the dark warrior again, this time with his consort. They have been living in Spain, feeding off the wealthy and powerful of Barcelona. He has just fought his second chosen one. He left her wounded but alive, in fact both were wounded. Sunlight is what caused the end of their battle, neither warrior gaining an advantage though they fought for hours. It was not I that witnessed their battle, but Brother Jerome, who told me that it was a fierce struggle. Brother Joachim fears we will lose sight of him now, since he was wounded. I am of the same mind. 23rd February, 1911, by my hand, Alexios, Prior.’

Dawn hadn’t breathed the entire time she’d read that entry. It had to be him. She was absolutely certain the only vampire to consistently seek out slayers had to be Spike. There was no one else as insanely brave and stupidly courageous as him. Or quite so bold. It had to be him. She flipped quickly through the pages, hoping to find another mention of the dark warrior, but there was nothing. Only more mention of the chosen ones.

Interestingly enough, there was another entry not too long after that one, this time for March 1911, mentioning that the chosen one had died of secondary injuries received after going out too soon after battling with the dark warrior. So maybe he had gotten three slayers . . If this dark warrior was him.

Knowing him though, he probably wouldn’t take any credit for it, since he hadn’t been the direct cause of death.

But she had to know if it was him.


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

It felt good to be away, felt good to be out of that situation. Gods it had been so stifling, so . . . heavy, was the best word she could come up with. Even before Willow had messed with the waitress, the atmosphere had been dense, everything uncomfortable. She hated that feeling. It was the feeling she’d grown up with, feeling like she didn’t belong, that no one understood her, and that she had no safe place. The only time Tara had felt differently growing up was when her mother was alive, and even then only when she was nearby.

But this was a different kind of uncomfortable. This was . . . despite being a witch and gay, it wasn’t that which was making her uncomfortable. It was the feeling she was getting from being around Willow. The skin crawling not in a good way feeling. Thinking there were butterflies in her belly only to find out it was worms. And it wasn’t even the same kind of feeling she got whenever a strange vampire was around, which was generally creepy, but hey, she didn’t feel this . . . used.

Yeah, that’s what it all boiled down to. She felt used. Cheap and unwanted and just not as important as she should be feeling.

If things had been a bit different, if Willow had come to her sooner and spoken about her plans, what she wanted to do, perhaps things wouldn’t be like this now. But Willow hadn’t. She hadn’t told anyone. Instead she had gone ahead and brought Buffy back.

Tara hadn’t talked to Buffy about any of this, mainly because the other girl still wasn’t completely herself. But she had a sinking suspicion that Buffy was feeling the betrayal also. Wasn’t hard to miss who was talking to who in the house, or where people were sleeping, and she was pretty certain that Buffy wasn’t talking to Willow. She knew for a fact that Spike wasn’t.

As she walked through the cemetery, Tara wondered what it might have been like if Willow had just done one thing differently. Gods, she could have killed both of them. One tiny misstep with the Lethe’s Bramble and poof, it would have been over for both her and Dawn.

Leaning down, she stepped out of one shoe then the other, scooping them up in her hands. A deep sigh escaped her lips and Tara was forced to admit to herself that sooner or later she was going to have to leave Buffy’s house. And she didn’t want to. She was comfortable there, and it was starting to feel like she had a place there, outside of being Willow’s girlfriend. Maybe she could talk Spike into letting her have the basement.

A soft smile graced her features and she looked wistfully up at the stars. Well, she’d just take things as they came for now. If this was meant to be, then everything would work itself out. If not, then so be it. She could always find another room at the college, or a small apartment off campus.

Exiting the small cemetery, Tara spotted the DeSoto parked down the block at the entrance to Shady Rest. She’d sit on top and wait for the others to come back.


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

Giles had been immersed in the texts and other books since Wesley’s departure almost a week before. So far, he’d found nothing more about the reason why the Cwn Annwn were in Sunnydale, but Anya’s words about payment kept circling round his head. He knew there was a connection but at the moment he was forced to admit it was eluding him.

On the other hand, the texts were proving to be of an enormous benefit, albeit one that neither he nor Wesley had anticipated. Apparently, these monks were extremely adept with manipulating energy, in short, they were most accomplished magicians and sorcerers. Odd, given the fact that they called themselves monks. Monastic orders were normally Christian, although there were Buddhist monasteries strewn about Asia. Somehow Giles got the impression that these monks were neither Buddhists nor Christians, though they may have hidden themselves in plain sight inside the Church. Wouldn’t have been the first time a covertly pagan group had protected themselves by entering en masse into the Church.

What intrigued him was the meticulous records they kept. For an order that eschewed Church teachings, they had perfected the liturgical hours. Each Prior had kept his journal according to the medieval Church, recording a bit each day at Prime and then again at Compline, roughly six in the morning and then again at nine at night. There were also copious annotations to herbals and grimoires that nearly had Giles salivating. He wondered if Wolfram & Hart had obtained all the books from the monks, and Wesley had only liberated the journals, believing them to be of primary use, leaving the others for later. He could only hope that Wesley had thought ahead and ‘liberated’ all of them.

If those grimoires fell into the wrong hands – and he considered Wolfram & Hart to be the wrong hands – there would be no telling what kind of havoc they could wreak.

Reaching for his cell phone, Giles hit speed dial, hoping Wesley was available.


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

They approached the DeSoto, Spike scenting Tara long before the car came into view, and he told Buffy that, so neither one of them was surprised when she smiled up at them from her perch on the hood.

“Hey guys.”

“Glinda.” Spike opened the trunk dropping in a small double-headed axe.

“Hey yourself. What’s up?” Buffy didn’t want to come out and ask it, but she was a bit curious why Tara was here. Last she knew the two girls were going out to dinner with Xander and Anya.

“Thought you were out with the scoobs?” Spike didn’t have any compunctions about asking. He knew Buffy was curious, hell he was too.

“We did go out. But well,” Tara sighed a little, looking from one to the other, “I guess I sort of broke up with Willow.”

Buffy hopped up to sit next to her. “You okay?”

Nodding her head, Tara said softly, “yeah, I guess I am.”

Spike stood silently letting the girls talk.

“You sure?” Buffy offered, but Tara just shook her head.

“You know, I am okay. This isn’t so sudden, been building for a while. Since . . . “

“Since she brought me back.” Buffy made a face, then glanced up at Spike. They shared a brief look, then as one they shifted their attention to the other girl.

“So what happened?” Buffy shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable.

Relaying the story to them, Tara repeated her fears about Willow’s misuse of magic. Spike snorted, interrupting her. “‘s not about magic pet, for Red its about control. Always acts out when situation is out of control and ‘specially if its outta her hands.”

Tara stared up at him. She’d never really thought about it that way. “You know, I think you might be right.”

There was silence for a bit, then Spike asked, “so what now pet?”

“Well I’m not sure. I’ve got nowhere else to go. I could try and get another dorm, but it’s probably too late.”

Shooting a look at Buffy, Spike raised his eyebrows at her. She just looked at him, then very quietly said to Tara, without taking her eyes off Spike, “you could always sleep in the basement. Spike’s room isn’t really being used.”

Well, Tara thought, this is going better than I expected. She’d never thought Buffy would be the one to bring up any of this.

But Buffy’s voice went on, “I don’t want you to leave. I’d really . . . you’re a good friend Tara. And I don’t want to lose you.”

She’d shifted her gaze to the other girl, reaching for her hand.

Tara was touched. Truly. She’d never expected this, oh she’d hoped for it, but figured she would have to be the one bringing it up.

Smiling at the two of them, Tara suddenly had tears in her eyes. “Thanks Buffy. It means alot.”


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

They hadn’t made him promise to keep quiet about things in Sunnydale, hadn’t even spoken about it, but Wesley had not spoken about the situation there beyond “everyone’s doing okay. Better than I’d expected.”

And Angel had left it at that. He had enough to worry about anyway.

Wesley still couldn’t believe the mess he’d come back too. Darla was back, again, vamped and unbelievably, inexplicably pregnant. Nearly eight months gone with Angel’s child.

Wesley figured that his little secret about Buffy’s return paled in comparison to Angel’s indiscretion. It was completely unprecedented, at least as far as he knew. He’d done nothing but non-stop research since his return and he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever find any answers. He was starting to doubt it.

He was contemplating calling Giles when his cell phone rang.

Looking at the caller ID, Wesley heaved a sigh of relief and flipped it open.


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

The ride home had been quiet. Neither girl was inclined to talk, each immersed in their own thoughts. Spike figured it was just as well, since he was also deep in thought. Part of him was aware that a step had been taken in his relationship with Buffy, and was rejoicing, but a larger part, remnants of William no doubt, was left wondering if it was just because Buffy didn’t want Tara moving out. He was also worried about Glinda. She appeared to be okay with things, but outward appearances sometimes lied. Her heartbeat was slow, her breathing regular. He wondered for a moment, if she truly felt okay, or if she was just putting on a brave front for them and was going to fall apart when reality hit.

He pulled the DeSoto into the driveway, looking at the girls as he did. Oddly, Buffy was the one with tears falling from her eyes.

“Buffy?”

She didn’t answer, only reached for his hand, the tears falling faster now. Tara got out of the car, unaware of Buffy’s state, heading right for the front door.

“Love? You okay?” He was starting to worry, because she wouldn’t talk or look at him. Instead she just shook her head holding out a hand to him.

Pulling her close, Spike gently pushed her head onto his chest. “Ssshhh. ‘S all right. I’m here.”

His big hands ran up and down her back, soothing away her tears. “C’mon love, let’s go in.”

Maneuvering them both from the car, Spike half carried the crying girl into the house. Tara was in the kitchen, getting a drink and on his way upstairs, Spike called out “I’ll help you move things around come daylight.”

And then his boots pounded up the stairs. Passing by Dawn’s room, Spike called out “lights out, Nib” but he didn’t wait for a response.

Buffy was still crying, but the torrent had slowed to a trickle. Placing her on the bed, Spike hunkered down to get her shoes off. He looked at her face and instead he reached out to cup her cheek and wipe away her tears. The words rasped out before he could censor them. “What’s this about then?”

At first she didn’t answer. Sniffling and shaking her head, she only answered him after he nudged her again.

“What if you hadn’t been there? If no one had been there when I got out?” Her voice was thick with tears. “If I hadn’t trusted you, what would have happened to Dawn? If . . . I couldn’t . . . if something happened. . . . “

“Oh baby. Shhhh.”

Wrapping her in his arms, Spike held her close. “I’m here kitten. Not goin’. Gonna stay here.”

Buffy cried against his chest, breathing him in, his strength, his nearness and his promises.

“If you hadn’t been there . . . oh Spike.”

And she held on tight, afraid to think about it, what it would have been like if he hadn’t been there. If he wasn’t here whenever she needed him. If he wasn’t here with her now.

That was something he didn’t even want to contemplate. It was different for a vamp, you woke up without any breath and made your climb out that way. But even so, he’d had nightmares for awhile. He figured Buffy was in for some very long nights, well no, actually they were.

His arms around her, half laying on the bed that they now officially shared, Spike realized this was his life. She owned him, lock stock and barrel. Unbeating heart and without a soul, he was hers.

No ifs.

He was hers.



[A/N: The chapter title comes from a line in the song “Nutshell” by Alice in Chains (listen to the unplugged version), probably one of the best bands to emerge in the early 1990's – the pain and the angst coupled with real good rock and roll make for good music. Layne Staley, the lead singer, accidently committed suicide little over 2 years ago, and his demise was predicted many many times – because of his heroin addiction, but the media made much of it (well the music industry media did anyway). Vocally, he was truly gifted and could sing like a lark. May you rest in peace, peace you never found on this plane. Quotes as attributed, disclaimers still in effect. I own nothing.]

Previously: Tara’s broken up with Willow and Buffy offered Spike’s basement bedroom to her. Wesley has returned to Los Angeles to discover the improbable fact of Darla’s pregnancy. However, he’s kept the secret of Buffy’s return from Angel.

Chapter 44. Privacy is raked

Was ever book containing such vile matter
so fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell
in such a gorgeous palace!
Romeo and Juliet, act 3, sc. 2

We chase misprinted lies
we chase the path of time
and yet I fight, and yet I fight
this battle all alone
no one to cry to
no place to call home

My gift of self is raped
my privacy is raked
and yet I find, yet I find
repeating in my head
if I can’t be my own
I’d feel better dead
Alice in Chains, Nutshell from the albums Jar of Flies and Unplugged


She snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling safe. The tears had finally stopped and Buffy felt much better. In spite of the fact she hated crying, hated showing any kind of emotions, crying had helped.

Wiping away the last of her tears, Buffy looked up to the face of the man holding her. He just . . . she didn’t know how he did it, but he always managed to be whatever she needed at any given moment. Her hand reached out to touch him and his eyes rested on hers.

“All right then kitten?”

Her hand rested on his throat, feeling the vibrations of his voice. Closing her eyes, Buffy nodded once, nestling in even closer. They were laying on the bed, still fully clothed, just holding each other. One of his hands slipped under her shirt, his thumb running up and down her back soothingly.

They heard the front door slam, then light footsteps up the stairs. The door to Willow’s room opened, then nothing. More footsteps, then a knock on their door.

“Buffy?” Willow’s voice sounded through the door. “Buffy you awake?”

Taking pity on the girl, Buffy called out, “yeah I am.”

“Can I talk to you a minute?” She almost sounded like her old self, like she did in highschool, scared and unsure, but Buffy really wasn’t fooled. Nor did she want to get up. She almost did, then decided she didn’t want to.

“Come on in.”

Spike raised a brow and started to sit up as Willow opened the door.

“Oh.”

The look on the witch’s face was worth whatever price he was going to have to pay for it.

“Sorry. Didn’t realize . . . um. . . “ and she was clearly flustered. “I’ll go.”

“Willow, what’s up?” Buffy asked, knowing full well what brought the other girl in and what had her flabbergasted. Sitting up, Buffy pulled off her socks, completely at ease.

“I was . . . well,” and she stood wringing her hands, trying not to watch Spike as he pulled off his boots, “I was wondering if you’d seen Tara tonight.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to snipe at her ‘lost your girlfriend have you’ but Buffy’s evil look kept him silent. They hadn’t talked about this, but Buffy had a feeling Tara didn’t want Willow to know where she was. So she lied.

“No. I thought she was with you.”

“We had a fight.” Willow’s shoulders slumped.

Spike hid his face by ducking down to move his boots, determined to follow Buffy’s lead. Better she handle this anyway, because he’d just as soon lace into Willow for everything and once he started, he knew there’d be no going back for him.

“She probably just needs some time. I’m sure she’s safe.” Buffy got up from the bed, moving toward her dresser. Taking off her necklace, she continued, “she’ll probably be home in the morning.”

Unfortunately there was nothing Willow could say. “Kay, I’ll just head to my room. You’re right, I’m sure she’s fine.”

Sounding suspiciously perky Buffy said “yup, she’ll be back safe and sound first thing in the morning. She’s probably just tucked away in a borrowed bed. “

“Yeah” stealing one more glance at Spike, Willow said “g’night then.”

And she was out the door, no further word from her.

Buffy started to speak, but Spike held up a hand, motioning her to quiet. Raising an eyebrow, Buffy started again but Spike motioned to the door, mimicking someone listening. Her eyes grew wide and Buffy crossed the room to where he was sitting. Breathing into his ear in a very soft whisper, she said “I couldn’t tell her.”

Spike kissed her shoulder, responding, “I know love, shouldn’t worry. Glinda needs rest right now, not another fight with Red.”

Lowering herself onto his lap, Buffy hugged him. “Can we go to sleep now?”

“Sure you want to sleep?” His leer was almost irresistible.

She laughed softly “can I think about it?” Which only got louder at his affronted look.

“Oi. I’ll let you think, after.”


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

Giles hung up after his conversation with Wesley both relieved and concerned. The good news was Wesley had stolen every book obtained by Wolfram & Hart, just not transported them all. The bad news, however, was far more disturbing.

All was not right in the city of Angels, nor with the vampire of the same name. Giles had only heard of one other instance when a vampire had managed to impregnate a woman. The woman had been a hybrid – one quarter demon – which no doubt facilitated things but . . . this was. . . He was going to have to mention this to Buffy and Spike and he really didn’t look forward to that at all.

He couldn’t begin to imagine Buffy’s response to this. Perhaps he’d tell Spike first and then together they could tell Buffy.

Wesley was proving to be an unexpected ally. He’d been concerned that his fellow former watcher would blurt out the way of things in Sunnydale, but he’d kept his silence, kept their secrets.

Not that he felt it mattered one way or another. Angel was just another obstacle they had to face. Sooner or later, the older vampire would find out, and come flying back to Sunnydale and pronounce his extreme displeasure. Pompous ass. Giles was inclined to agree with Spike’s opinion of the souled vampire.

Initially, Giles had trusted him, but in the aftermath of losing his soul and Angelus’ subsequent actions, Giles had never been able to trust him at all. Had been more than happy to see him go.

And now, if forced to chose between the two vampires, there was no doubt in Giles’ mind which one he’d choose, with or without his chip, Giles trusted Spike far more than he ever would trust Angel.

But all that aside . . . . Giles stopped pouring the water he was about to drink. Everything clicked into place. The Cwn Annwn had been released to exact payment for Buffy’s return from whatever dimension she’d been trapped within. How could he have been so dense?

Sitting down hard in his chair, Giles closed his eyes. He wasn’t stupid, just . . . he’d been temporarily blinded by his joy at Buffy’s return that he’d completely overlooked the obvious. Glancing at his watch, he realized it was just a bit too late to call the house. Everyone but Spike was probably asleep and while he enjoyed talking to him, he wasn’t the one Giles wanted to speak with. And Giles wanted to see her face when he talked to her about this.

Willow’s mistakes just kept growing exponentially by the day.


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

Standing outside Buffy’s bedroom door, Willow strained to hear their conversation. Something about that whole short exchange with Buffy bothered her. If she didn’t know better she’d swear that Buffy had been lying. Or maybe it was just really seeing for the first time how much Spike had moved in.

Obviously he was very comfortable in Buffy’s room something she hadn’t known until just now. And just as obviously Spike was preparing to sleep in there and not in his room in the basement.

Willow got the distinct feeling that they were talking about her even though she couldn’t hear anything. It bugged her. Everything about the whole. . . She was supposed to be Buffy’s best friend, the one she went to for support, the shoulder to cry on and the listening ear. So how come she didn’t know about Spike’s new sleeping arrangements until now?

This was . . . wrong. She didn’t like this one bit. Wrong wrong wrong. Pursing her lips and furrowing her brow Willow concentrated and suddenly she could hear and see everything going on behind the closed door in front of her.

Buffy was straddling Spike’s lap, her mouth by his ear, laughing softly. She whispered “can I think about it?” Then laughed a bit louder when Spike gave her a look.

His hand snuck under her shirt, pressing her down and his leer was evident in his tone as he said “oi, I’ll let you think after.”

Willow mentally grimaced but didn’t leave the room. They couldn’t see or sense her so she opted to stick around to see what happened to see if they talked about her.

Spike’s low voice caught her attention. “Feelin’ any better, pet?”

Both his hands were under her shirt now preparing to lift it off. His fingers moved, releasing her bra and when her answer wafted between them, Spike removed both items at once.

Nice move, Willow thought, wondering if she could perfect it.

Leaning her back away from him Spike licked a path upwards from her belly button to the valley between Buffy’s pert breasts. Slowly his tongue worked its way from one hardened nipple to the other as Buffy held onto his arms tightly. Neither one of them spoke but harsh gasping breaths filled the room.

Willow watched, a silent invisible voyeur, as Spike continued his gentle assault on Buffy’s sensitive nipples. Buffy’s whimpers filled the air as he caught the tip between his teeth and he tugged back. He did it again repeating the action on her other nipple and Willow felt her own skin grow flush.

Great mother he’s good.

His deep rumbles of pleasure erupted from his chest counterpoint to Buffy’s soft mewls. Spike moved, quick as a cat, laying Buffy down on the bed, sliding his hand inside her pants, his body blocking her view of what his mouth was doing.

Moving about, Willow drifted closer to the bed, unable to stop watching. Spike’s hand effortlessly peeled Buffy’s jeans down her legs tugging them off without any difficulty.

Her own breathing hitched along with Buffy’s when he slid two fingers inside her pussy pumping against her clit. Hissing his name, Buffy slid her hands inside Spike’s jeans, returning the favor. His tee shirt followed and before she knew what was happening Spike had lowered himself and slid inside Buffy.

His gasped words were so low they were just erotic rumbles matching his thrusts. Buffy’s hands gripped his ass then her legs came up to wrap around his hips and Willow was drowning in the energy pouring from them in waves . . .

Until she was abruptly slammed back into her body by Dawn’s voice in her real ear.

“Ugh. Nosey much?”

There was real disgust both in her tone and in her expression. What she’d done earlier had been accidental, freezing her entire class because of her own inner turmoil. Tonight – that was deliberate. Intentional. And there was nothing at all that Willow could say in her own defense.


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

Dawn had stood there watching for about two minutes before she figured out a couple of things. First was her sister and Spike were at it again and um, that was like okay, but the second really creepy thing was Willow was standing there listening. And that was not only gross but really wrong.

So, like any good child when confronted with an “adult” in the middle of wrong doing, she’d called her on it.

And Willow’s quick retreat and totally guilty expression did nothing to help her cause. Dawn’s first thought was Buffy’s gonna wig followed quickly by but boy is Spike gonna be ripe for violence.

Shaking her head, Dawn headed for her original destination before going back to bed.


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

Buffy writhed beneath him, her inner muscles tightening around him. “God . . . Buffy . . . love this. . . Come for me kitten . . . uuhh“

His breath was cool against her, his lips deliciously chilly against her overheated skin. Buffy wanted this to never end . . . she was drowning, floating, soaring . . . beyond herself. She wanted him inside her . . .

“Spike. . . please . . . Spike.” She breathed into his mouth, her hands cupping his face. Her eyes stared up into his, awe etched deep within blue and hazel depths.

“Love . . . Buffy . . . so bloody much.” Spike thrust in so hard and far that he’d . . . “god kitten.”

“Now Spike . . . now.”

Clamping down Buffy arched up, body rigid and wound so tightly trembling from head to toe, keening his name as her orgasm slammed into her. Her inner muscles tightened around him, encasing him in silken steel and Spike lost himself in his own orgasm. Shuddering around him, Buffy bit down hard on his shoulder.

And Spike was instantly hard again within her warm depths his demon screaming now for release. Fangs elongated, ridges formed and Spike reared up on his knees dragging Buffy’s lower half with him. Bracing her feet around his hips, Buffy held on, softly shrieking his name in one long continuous moan. Her mind barely registered his state, her eyes seeing only him. Using her strong stomach muscles, Buffy pulled herself up, her fingers digging hard into his shoulders. Her lips captured his, her tongue seeking his. He growled into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips. He was pounding so hard and fast inside her she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t . . . . his name sounded in the air between them, her overheated body craving release. She wanted . . . Needed . . .

Wrapping her arms around him, Buffy held on. “Spike . . . oh . . . god. . . “

Her hands slipped, trying to find somewhere to hold on. “Spike please.”

His growls got louder, deeper, she could feel it inside, every delicious rumble . . . her name rolled from his throat as he thrust deep, hitting her cervix and Buffy whimpered from the pain-filled pleasure. Fighting back a scream, Buffy clamped down, her mouth on his shoulder and feeling her teeth in his skin, Spike growled, stilled his hips and pulled her back, so she could see him.

He was still in game face, still rock hard inside her. Buffy flexed around him, watching as his eyes nearly rolled back. He thrust inside, hard, making her gasp out, then growled his own response when she tightened around him again.

Her head dropped forward, resting on his shoulder and she licked his skin, sucking on the bite marks she’d left. His hips bucked as he ground out “playin’ with fire missy.”

And he was never so surprised when she purred in his ear. “Fire pretty.”

Spike closed his eyes and nuzzled her neck. His reward was Buffy writhing against him, and when he did it again, she moaned against him. “Oh . . . Spike. . . “

“Can’t . . . love . . . Need you . . . Buffy . . . “

“Yes . . . Spike . . . oh god.”

Slowly, almost gently, Spike slid his fangs against the salty skin of her neck, drowning in her scent. Buffy grasped the back of his neck, her breath sirocco hot against his skin. She whined his name, as he nicked his first bite, squeezing all around him.

When his teeth finally sank in, Buffy cried out his name, her body shaking with release. Her mind went blank and the whole world went dark as he exploded within her depths.

She slumped bonelessly in his strong arms, surrendering to him, safe, protected and loved.




A/N: I just received notification about 4 new nominations at Lost In Spike Awards - - - Best Author, Hottest Bite, Best Spike Hero and Most Original. I have no idea who nominated me, but you have my undying thanks. Also, a huge thank you to every single one of you that's taken a moment to review. It means so much to me.




[A/N: Platitudes can go on forever, and quotes can only capture a moment, but sometimes they are all we have to describe that moment. Title comes from the Bard, from one of the most tragically romantic stories ever told, act 2, sc. 2 (My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee the more I have, for both are infinite) – and see if you can figure out which play I mean. And the poem Spike quotes? Its by Robert Louis Stevenson. Qoutes as attributed. Disclaimers still working, but gods how I wish . . . . ]

Previously: Buffy hid Tara’s whereabouts from Willow; Giles and Wesley have conferred long distance on some items. Dawn caught Willow listening to Buffy and Spike, but didn’t realize the true depth of her spying. This is the following mid-morning.

45. Boundless as the sea.

He shall love my soul as though
body were not all,
he shall love your body,
untroubled by the soul,
love cram love’s two divisions
yet keep his substance whole.
William Butler Yeats, The Lady’s Second Song

Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.
Zora Neale Hurston

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Emily Brontë


Re-arranging rooms proved less of a problem than she’d anticipated. By unspoken agreement, they’d purposely waited until Willow left the house, to start playing musical rooms.

Buffy was moving around the contents of her drawers, aware of the huge shift her life had gone through in one night. She’d been deliberately low key about Tara moving into the basement room, hoping Spike would take it exactly the way she’d meant and not that she wanted him to leave. She should have known better.

Her vampire had understood without having to hear the words what she’d meant. So right now he was downstairs in the basement, clearing out his meager belongings, boxing them up to carry them upstairs into her room.

Was she ready for this? Not like he wasn’t already sleeping beside her every night. He was there every morning when she woke up and . . . so yeah, she was ready for this.

Shoving aside some old clothes, Buffy glanced around at her . . . now their room. Was it too girly for him? Would he even care? Looking around, she realized there was enough evidence that this move was merely a formality.

A second pair of his boots was in the corner, a couple of dirty tee shirts and a pair of jeans piled together with her dirty clothes, his favorite pillows mixed in with hers, candles on nearly every flat surface. Buffy wandered over to the bed, smoothing the sheets, rearranging the pillows. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, his hard length still inside her, and woken up several times throughout the early morning hours to find him still there. Once, he’d woken her, the slow slide of his length driving within her, his hips moving forward fractionally. The feel of him barely moving, but so solidly within her had been enough, his heavy breathing of her name triggering her own slow rolling orgasm.

He’d rolled onto his back then, pulling her along with him, her hip thrown over his, still embedded deep inside her. One hand on her ass, he’d nudged her closer, whispering, “go back to sleep kitten” as she’d slipped back into slumber.

Buffy grabbed his pillow, burying her face, breathing in his scent. Butterflies took flight in her belly, fluttering in a giant wave. So lost in the memories of this morning, she didn’t hear his footstep, nor his tentative step into the room.

He watched her for a moment, holding an unneeded breath. The pillow, his pillow, was in her hands, her eyes closed and a look on her face that he’d never seen before. She was beautiful, glowing, his golden girl . . . his sun, his moon . . . his all . . . his everything.

Spike stared at her, random lines of stolen poetry running through his brain, yet none of it did this moment justice.

His arms were full of cardboard and clothing but ached to take hold of her, wrap her in his arms, holding on for eternity.

Some noise must have escaped his throat, some sound reverberated in the air, because she slowly opened her eyes, unerringly finding his. A soft smile crossed her features, her eyes luminous and clear emerald. The box dropped from his arms tipping over as it fell. He moved toward her, slowly, inexorably, wanting to savor this feeling, this moment.

Her name breathed from his lips at the same time his sounded from hers. Reaching her, Spike dropped to his knees, his arms sliding around her waist. A single tear surfaced in her eyes and he smiled, pulling her close. Buffy’s arms closed around his shoulders holding him tight against her breasts.

“I love you.” He murmured against her and his heart almost beat when her arms tightened around him and she whispered his name.


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

Tara was going through her things, piling up everything haphazardly. She wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, packing up while Willow was gone, but she wanted to get a start on things before Willow returned from morning classes.

They’d spoken briefly before Willow had left, but not of anything significant. The redhead had asked if she was all right, then asked pointedly if they could talk this afternoon.

She suddenly wasn’t so sure that moving down to the basement was the right thing to do. They’d be forced to still see each other all the time and Tara wasn’t sure that was a good idea. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be easy. But she really really didn’t want to leave. And judging by Buffy’s statements last night, they didn’t want her too either.

That made her happy. Made her heart smile. This really was home. She heard Spike come up the stairs, his familiar heavy tread a comfort. When had he ceased to be just an annoying pest and become something more? A part of her family? A rock of strength?

For her it had been when he’d punched her, proving to herself and the world that she wasn’t part demon. She’d always be grateful to him for that.

Smiling again Tara gathered up some clothes and headed to Buffy’s room.

She stopped at the doorway, captivated by the scene in front of her. Spike was on his knees, his arms around Buffy’s waist, her arms around his shoulders. They were staring at each other but she could only see the look on Buffy’s face.

Huh.

She’d known Spike was head over heels in love with her but she’d never guessed Buffy completely returned those feelings. Judging by the look on Buffy’s face Tara had no doubt what the other girl was feeling. Tara closed her eyes not wanting to intrude.

But the vision remained even as she backed away. They were surrounded by soft light, flashing colors of pink and green and blue and gold, shimmering in the air around them. She had no idea how much either of them believed in aura readings but she did. And what she’d just seen had stolen her breath.

That, she thought, was what love’s energy looks like.


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

Midmorning sunlight filtered in through the drawn curtains, bathing the room indirectly, warming it despite the opened windows. Neither one of them was sleeping, though her eyes were closed, Buffy again curled up in his arms. His eyes roved over her face, noting the stress lines disappearing, the haunted look she’d carried slowly leaching away. No matter to him, she was beautiful, his entire world encompassed in her eyes, her hands.


He’d thought, with Drusilla, that he knew what love was, knew the heights and depths of that emotion, the breadth of sensation. How very wrong he was. That night of revelation, when he’d woken from what he’d come to term The Dream, opened his eyes to his love for Buffy. Only opened his eyes. It took months of yearning, watching her from across the gulf separating them, to learn what real unrequited love was. Then she let him in, because of his selfless act to protect her sister, and he learned what it was to be close to her.

When she died, he learned what real grief was. His heart had disintegrated that early morning, wept for what might have been, when her body hit the ground, shattered, broken, lifeless. He’d wept too, those long nights in between, when Dawn had sought him out for comfort, his tears mingling with hers. He wept in silence too, alone in his grief, unwilling to share with it anyone else.

Just as the pain was beginning to age, but not die, just as he was adjusting to being without her, she appeared. Returned. Alive. And, for the most part, whole and in one piece. To be able to hold her, see her, smell her . . . Just be near was enough. Or so he’d thought.

Now he wasn’t content to just be near her. Spike wanted to drown himself inside her, hold her close and not ever, ever let her go again. In the deepest dark part of night, when she slept within the circle of his arms, her heartbeat thumping against his still chest, her breathing rolling across his arms or chest, Spike quite often found himself imagining it was all a dream his grief-filled heart and mind had conjured up. That she wasn’t back. But she was. And she was with him, wanting him, needing him. There were times when he touched her just to convince himself. When he watched her sleeping beside him, safe and sound. Content to just watch her.

Which was what he was doing at this moment. Just watching her. His thumb brushed against her cheek, his fingers twining in her hair. Should he live for another hundred years, he’d never ever forget these moments, nor the way her body felt wrapped around his. The heat, the absolute delicious heat of her encircling him, her muscles contracting around him, speeding them both toward climax.

Spike sighed softly against her forehead, feeling her eyes open, as her fingers flexed around his waist. Lines of long remembered poems drifted in and out of his head, none of them equal to her, they were words, and thankfully none of his own, though he was craving for the ability to put pen to paper and make a sad poor attempt once more. Without much conscious thought, Spike’s voice drifted softly in the air, drawing her attention to his lips.

“Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, with eyes of gold and bramble-dew, steel-true and blade-straight, the great artificer made my mate. ” She said nothing, waiting breathlessly for his next words, just watching his averted eyes.

“Honour, anger, valour, fire; a love that life could never tire, death quench or evil stir, the mighty master gave to her. ” He smiled a bit, his hand reaching out to lay just underneath her ear, resting on her cheek.

“Teacher, tender, comrade . . . “ and his voice hitched and broke, breathed more than whispered, “wife. ” He paused for so long that Buffy thought he wasn’t going to continue, but then he recovered and his voice sounded out again “a fellow-farer true through life, heart-whole and soul-free, the august father gave to me. ”

Her eyes were bright and wide. Spike ducked his head, unwilling to let her see the depth of his emotions swimming in his eyes. Warm fingers brushed across his lips, drawing his face down to hers. The kiss was chaste, given the fact they were both naked, but carried a wealth of emotion he was suddenly afraid to analyze. He pressed their bodies together, rolling half onto his back, bringing her with him. Spike closed his eyes, content to just listen to the cadence of her heart beat, feel her resting over him like a living blanket.


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


Sooner or later, it was bound to happen. Once certain wheels were set in motion, triggered by events sometimes out of the control of the people they effect, the inevitable does occur.

It was just as likely to have come from him as it was from any other source, the demon world, especially that surrounding the hellmouth, abounded with rumors.

So Wesley wasn’t entirely surprised when Angel loomed over him, accusation and betrayal in his dark eyes.

“When were you going to tell me?” His hands fisted on the desk top, as Angel leaned across to confront him.

“About what precisely?” He looked up not at all intimidated by Angel’s demeanor.

“What’s going on in Sunnydale, Wes?” The vampire didn’t move, didn’t back away at all.

Neither did the human. “Why don’t you tell me what you think you know?”

“I’ve heard things” was all Angel would say.

Losing patience with this unnecessarily cryptic conversation, Wesley tossed his pen on the desk, saying, “the point Angel, if you have one?”

“Oh, I”ve got a point.” Angel stood up to his full height, flexing his broad shoulders. “Rumors are flying that there’s a slayer in Sunnydale again. What do you know about that?”

“There is.” Wesley wasn’t going to lie, as much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted to protect them, Angel would find out the truth and then there would be hell to pay.

“Did you see the new slayer while you were there?”

Ah, so he thought this was Buffy’s replacement, not the girl herself, maybe he could buy them some more time. Wesley didn’t know why, nor could he explain it, but he’d liked William the Bloody. He hadn’t been at all what he’d expected, nor had his welcome been anything at all like his first stint in Sunnydale. They’d welcomed him, made him feel at home, part of them and he’d enjoyed that feeling. Would like to repeat it.

“No. No I didn’t meet the new slayer.” Gauging the other man’s reaction to see if Angel thought he was lying, Wesley watched him pace around a bit.

“You were there for a couple of days, you mean to tell me you didn’t meet her?”

“No Angel, I didn’t meet the new slayer. She’s apparently a bit antisocial, not adjusting well to her circumstances.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, any of it.

“Oh.” His response totally took the wind out of Angel’s pending explosion.

“Spike still there?” It was almost an after thought, but Wesley wasn’t fooled.

“Yes, protecting Dawn.”

“Good. Okay then.”

And then as quickly as he’d arrived in Wesley’s office, Angel departed.

The Englishman waited ten minutes or so, then called the house.

Spike’s voice answered on the third ring.

“Lo.”

“Hello.”

“Oxford.” The vampire was immediately wary. They’d talked about this, that last long night when they’d drunk themselves silly and Spike knew there was only one reason Wesley would be calling him.

“He’s asked about the new slayer.”

“Bloody hell. Only a matter of time then.”

Wesley sighed a little, then agreed. “More than likely, he’ll probably call the house. He’ll assume our counterpart won’t talk, probably hoping. . . ”

“He’ll get Niblet on the horn an’ pry the info from her. Right.”

“Its something he would do.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell the girls.”

They both avoided using names, neither one knowing how many ears were listening or who those ears belonged to.

“Ta mate. ‘Preciate the info.”

“Pass along my greetings to everyone.”

“Will do.” There was a brief pause, then “Oxford. Don’t be a stranger.”

It was probably the closest thing to an admission that Spike had enjoyed his company as much as Wesley had.

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

Buffy caught sight of his face after hanging up the phone and knew immediately something was wrong. “Spike?”

When he didn’t answer her, she tried again, “Spike, what was Wes calling about?”

So she had heard. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with the imminent arrival of everyone. It was just after two in the afternoon and Giles and the girls were due at any moment. He was hoping they’d never have to face this, but that was nothing more than wishful thinking on his part.

Raising his eyes to hers, Spike fought the impulse to lie. “Oxford says Angel’s heard about a new slayer bein’ in town.”

She was stunned. “A new? Here?” Rolling her eyes she surprised him by shrugging “obviously telephone game still works not so well.”

“Huh?” He wasn’t following her.

“Information breakdown. Too much repetition and information goes wonky.”

“Right.” Looking at her intently, he asked, “you’re not worried about the poofter?”

“Nope. Should I be?” Buffy perched on the kitchen stool, watching him.

“Dunno pet. Figured you’d wanna hide me away from himself.”

“Spike. We talked about this. We’re good.” Looking back at him, she could see he wasn’t completely reassured, but it was okay, or it would be. She wasn’t worried about Angel, was more worried about Willow and Tara.

And she really didn’t want to think about Angel at all right now.

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

Giles was the first one to arrive but Spike almost expected that. He’d sounded like he had much on his mind when he’d called earlier.

His greeting upon arrival had reflected that, or so Spike thought, and his first real sentence, “is Willow home?” reinforced that thought.

“Red’s not back yet. Expect her soon though. What’s up Rupert?”

“Tara’s the only one besides us home. Why Giles?”

“There’s something I’d like to ask you, Buffy, if I may.” His glasses were on, so that was good. But his next words stole her breath.

“When were you going to tell me Willow took you from heaven?”



[A/N: Don’t you just love cliffhangers? *laughs* I’m sorry. I tried so hard to figure out how to keep Once More With Feeling a part of this story, but, unfortunately I just couldn’t do it. I was going to even write an additional song, in fact had some of it already written, but it just didn’t work. I hope you’ll all forgive me. The title for this chapter comes from a line by Alfred Lord Tennyson, Idylls of the King: Balin and Balan, line 509. Quotes are as attributed, and the disclaimers are in full force and effect (legalese for I don’t own a damn thing).]

Previously: Giles has managed to finally put two and two together and come up with the correct answer. Angel knows something is going on in Sunnydale, but nothing specific (he’s got his own things to worry over). This picks up immediately where we left everyone.

46. Mere white truth in simple nakedness

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.
Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest, act 1

There is more truth in honest lies,
believe me, than in half the truths.
Samuel Butler, Notebooks, pg 52

Truth is after all a moving target
Hairs to split, and pieces that don't fit
How can anybody be enlightened?
Truth is after all so poorly lit
Rush, Turn the page, from the Album Hold your Fire


She could not believe what she’d thought she heard. It just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. Please god, make this a dream, some sort of nightmare. No. That is not what she’d just heard. Giles did not just ask if she’d been in heaven. There was. . . .

Buffy was staring at her Watcher, her father-figure, her friend, absolutely speechless. There was nothing she could say. Spike stood next to her an unmoving solid presence. Everyone was frozen in place, hardly anyone was breathing.

A soft noise sounded in the air drawing everyone’s attention to the doorway by the kitchen. Tara stood there, hand covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes searched Buffy’s needing confirmation of what Giles had just said. Another noise came from the doorway between the front hall and the living room entrance. Dawn was standing there, her backpack falling from her hands, a stunned look upon her face.

“Buffy?” The teen sounded so lost, so scared that it brought tears to her sister’s eyes.

He hadn’t seen that look on her face or in her eyes in quite some time. In fact, the last time he’d seen it, Buffy and he were sitting on the back porch, just after she’d discovered there was something wrong with her mother. Spike felt as useless now as he did then, but this time, there wasn’t any hesitation in her mind what she wanted to do. Turning to face him, she reached for him, a soft sob breaking through her lips, tears now swimming in her eyes.

“Buffy.”

All he said was her name and she crumpled, reaching for him, anguish in every line of her face.

He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them, his arms automatically pulling her close. The storm broke when her cheek rested against his chest and she could feel him all around her, supporting her and keeping her safe.

“Rupert. Have you any idea . . . “ Spike didn’t know what to say. He currently had an armful of crying Buffy, Tara was frozen in shock and Dawn had moved closer into the living room, where the three adults were standing. Giles had stepped forward then back as Buffy had turned into Spike’s embrace.

“See to the girls.” Everything was secondary to making sure Buffy was okay. Holding her close, he dropped his head down to hers, whispering softly into her ear, too low for anyone else to hear.

“Shh . . . Buffy love, I’ve got you. ‘M right here. Hold on to me.” It was nonsense, just his voice sounding over and over, to give her something to focus on, to anchor her to him. Buffy’s arms were circled around his waist, snuggled up against his chest.

Giles had herded the two girls to the couch, his mind reeling. He’d not imagined his questioning Buffy would have been overheard. And he’d not meant for it to sound accusatory. But it had. And he’d spoken, without taking note of who was present, nor had he . . . God. He’d just not thought it through clearly.

He turned to face the two still figures his gaze resting on the smaller of the two.


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

Xander had gotten out of work early, planning on meeting Willow at the Magic Box for lunch. His oldest friend had called him while she was between classes looking for a sympathetic ear and some support. She’d said she needed to talk to him about a couple of things but hadn’t said what exactly was on her mind. But he had a few ideas what might be bugging her.

That scene last night was . . . god he’d been embarrassed for both of them.

He was walking into the Magic Box when Willow’s voice calling his name caught his attention.

“Xander!”

“Hey Will.”

Grabbing his arm, Willow pulled him away from the door, urging him toward the Espresso Pump. “So, what’s the dire?”

“Buffy’s sleeping with Spike.”

“Don’t wanna know this, saw it with my own two eyes.” Taking a deep breath, Xander continued, “did you need to rub this in, coz, gotta say, so not needing the reinforcement.”

Willow was shaking her head, “I mean really sleeping with him.”

“Aaaaaahhhhhh! Stop Will, don’t need visuals.” Missing Willow’s guilty flush, Xander said, “I really don’t wanna talk about this.”

“But Xander, we’re her best friends and you know, she should be trusting us not him and so. . . not with the trusting him and . . . hey, I rescued her from a hell dimension!”

Willow got more agitated the longer she talked about it dragging Xander into outrage with her.

“If we could just . . . maybe she’s under some sort of spell or something?” Xander was still trying to figure out Buffy’s attraction to Spike.

“She needs our help Xander. Buffy needs us – her real friends.” Willow looked around moving closer so they weren’t overheard. “We just have to prove to her that Spike will always be evil and she’ll get rid of him.”

She had his full attention now. Xander trusted Willow, she was smart and well, he’d known her most of his life, so yeah, he’d go along with pretty much whatever plan she could come up with. “All right Will, what should we do?”


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

Tara’s voice was the first to break the tense silence. “Is it true? What Mr. Giles asked?”

Lifting her forehead from where it rested against Spike’s chest, Buffy shared a look with the vampire, drew in a steadying breath and gaining strength from his proximity, she said softly, “Yes it is.”

Dawn’s indrawn breath broke on a sob while Tara’s hand shook as she raised it to her mouth. Giles closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself.

Holding onto Spike, Buffy wiped her eyes, then faced the girls. Dawn was hugging one of the pillows against her belly, her face pale, the shock clearly visible. Tara was no better the implications of Willow’s actions weighing very heavily. She at least was aware of the possible complications and the huge consequences of Willow’s reckless and thoughtless actions.

“Its not. . . . “ Buffy’s voice broke, then taking a deep breath, she tried again. “I didn’t want you to know. It’s not your fault. I’d never . . . “ and it happened again, only this time she looked up at Spike for assistance.

Finding whatever she was looking for in his eyes, she continued, “neither of you knew what Willow was planning, so not your fault.”

But Tara was shaking her head, trying to force words to her tongue. “We . . . we . . I didn’t know. Buffy, I would’ve stopped her.”

For the first time, Dawn spoke, her voice harsh and sounding very, very old. “No. She would have figured out something else. She would have tried again and again until it worked.”

It was, Spike thought, exactly what he’d been thinking, and a more than fair assessment of Willow’s character. Buffy broke from his embrace, moving toward the obviously distressed Tara.

“Hey. Its really not your fault. I don’t blame either of you.” Reaching her side, Buffy crouched down in front of Tara, then slid onto the coffee table. “Look, I know you wouldn’t have done this, tried something so dangerous. I know it. What Willow did . . . you aren’t responsible for it. Please, Tara, don’t feel like you . . . it wasn’t your fault.”

Tara turned anguished blue eyes toward the floor shaking her head. “I cccould’ve figured it out. Tttried to ssstop her.”

She was so upset her stutter was very pronounced. Buffy wouldn’t let go of her hands and Tara was very aware of the tears sliding down her face.

Dropping her gaze to their joined hands, Tara could see tiny lines, scars of long healed minor wounds criss-crossed on the backs of Buffy’s hands. Her hands were so small, fine boned and delicate, almost child-sized, yet they wielded extraordinary power, delivering death to demons, saving the world. So much rested on those delicate hands.

“Tara.” Spike had stepped up behind Buffy his hands resting on her shoulders. He rarely used anyone’s real name, especially when talking directly to them, so she knew whatever he was about to say was important.

“Tara.” He repeated, forcing her gaze upward by the strength of his tone. “Aside from being duped, you had nothing to do with Willow’s spell, yeah?” When she opened her mouth to speak, he held up a hand, motioning her to wait. “Red kept it from you both, didn’t say a word to anyone save the boy and even then she lied to him. You’re no more responsible for what Willow did than Buffy is. She used you both. Hell, used all of you, Dawn, you and Buffy.”

His face wore a look she’d never seen before, his features stern and forbidding, a dangerous glint in his eyes. There was no forgiveness in those blue depths, none at all. Tara realized she was looking into the eyes of a man who had no compunctions about taking a life, a man who had no remorse.

Glancing down at Buffy, Tara found the same look staring back at her.

“I’m so sorry” slipped from between her lips before she could censor the thought.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Buffy’s voice hadn’t wavered. “I’m sorry that you found out like this.”

For the first time since blurting out his question, Giles spoke. “That is my fault.”

Apprehension was written in the depths of Giles’ eyes and it was clearly visible that he feared an eruption of monumental proportions was about to occur. He was braced for it.

What he got instead was a Buffy who just turned wounded doe eyes up and him and her softly worded “I didn’t want to upset them Giles, its not fair to them. They didn’t know.”

“I am very sorry.” His regret was evident.

They stared at each other, neither one able to find the words to heal this latest breach between then, but aware it needed healing.

It was Dawn that mended the tiny crack.

“Not even half as sorry as Willow should be.” And she remembered the scene outside Buffy’s bedroom last night and figured, what the hell, Willow’s already in deep. “OH! Last night, she was listening outside your bedroom door.”

All eyes had swung toward her at the first comment but at the second, two pair narrowed further.

“What?!”

“When was this Niblet?”

Dawn rolled her eyes, clearly not wanting to say exactly when she’d busted Willow listening, but judging by the looks on various faces, everyone had pretty much figured it out. Which was good, coz she really didn’t want to blurt that out.

If it was at all possible, Spike’s expression hardened even more. Buffy looked both embarrassed and pissed off, which was hard to do, but Dawn figured in this case, both worked.

“Maybe we should think about taking the basement.”

“Maybe its time we taught Red a lesson” was Spike’s comment back at her.

And none of them could argue with that.


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

For once in his life, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was grateful for the fact that vampires slept during the day. And that this particular vampire preferred to sleep in the afternoon.

He was, therefore, alone when the call came in. Nearly the last two people on earth he’d expect to call to speak to Angel were on the phone. And he got that tingle in the back of his neck, the one indicating something wasn’t right, the one that right now was agreeing with the gut feeling he had this phone call wasn’t about anything good. Unsure if the two even knew he’d been in Sunnydale recently, since he’d seen neither one of them while he’d been there, Wesley was certain this had something to do with Buffy.

With the phone hung up, Wesley sat at his desk not seeing what was in front of him, instead his mind was on the non-conversation he’d just had with two of the slayer’s friends. He couldn’t imagine what they were hoping to accomplish and how Angel was supposed to assist them in whatever they were planning. At this rate he was going to be calling Sunnydale once or twice a day.

Heaving a sigh, he reached for his phone and had half dialed the number when Angel wandered in to his office. He hung up, warily eyeing the vampire pacing around, watching him carefully. When he spoke, Wesley mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Have you found anything about this? About Darla’s condition?”

Looking down at the books opened on his desk Wesley had to admit that it had been slow going. His only lead had come from Giles, who admitted the information was in the Council’s library, which was closely guarded. It was more than possible he could find more there, but that would entail going back to England, and that was something Wesley had zero intention of ever doing. “I’ve gotten something about a hybrid getting pregnant by a vampire but nothing else so far. Darla’s not a hybrid. She was fully human when she got pregnant.”


“Yeah. She was.” Angel thought for a moment then looked at Wesley. “Could it have something to do with her being brought back from the dead? She died twice, maybe there’s a connection there.”

He was staring at the vampire, a myriad of thoughts running through his head. Could that be it? Twice dead; returned the second time by mystical means. The implications of that had him reeling. It was as good a theory as any other he’d heard. And, oh dear gods.

Buffy. And Spike.

They were living together.

Wesley realized he really needed to call Sunnydale.


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

Giles knew he’d hurt Buffy. Knew his question was ill-timed. He’d been so focused on getting a straight answer from her he hadn’t thought it all through.

He tried again, needed to assuage his conscience. “Buffy, I am sorry.”

“Not you too.” Noting his confused look, Buffy shrugged a little. “Pulling me from heaven – not your fault.”

“I meant about the way I asked.” Giles shook his head. She was so very impulsive.

“Oh. Yeah, very much your fault.” She looked back at Tara then glanced at her sister. “Was thinking about maybe baring my soul – only telling you.”

Getting up from the coffee table, she laced her fingers together. “Just didn’t want anyone to feel bad.”

“Not something you should’ve kept secret though.” Giles knew he wasn’t completely off-the-hook, just temporarily forgiven. “The thing is, I know why the hounds are here.”

When he didn’t say anything for a moment, Buffy said, “spill.”

“They’re here to exact payment or restitution for your release from heaven.”

Buffy shot a glance at Spike that was laced with anger. “Don’t say it.”

Spike grinned unrepentantly. “Not goin’ to. You are.”

“Nahuh.” Buffy crossed her arms and set her features.

“Have to, pet.” He was trying badly to suppress a grin.

“Fine.” Grimacing, Buffy ground out, “Spike wanted me to tell you because he translated the part Wesley couldn’t. And he was right.”

Tara’s and Dawn’s watery giggles broke the silence. “Spike’s right?”

Dawn was laughing at her sister.

“Hahah. Very funny Dawnie. He’s only right this once.”

Dawn laughed harder. “Oohkay Buff, whatever you say.”

“Spike? Got a moment?” Giles knew he had to talk to him before he said anything else to drive a wedge between himself and Buffy.

“Yeah.” Sharing a look with Buffy, he shrugged, not knowing what Giles wanted.

Giles walked out of the room and headed downstairs to the basement. At the bottom of the steps, he looked about, noting the boxes piled up outside the new bedroom. Spike’s heavy tread hit the stairs and Giles said as he walked down toward him, “are you leaving?”

“No. Tara’s taking this room. She’s given Red the boot.” Spike wandered inside the room, sitting on the bed, waiting for Rupert to blast him.

“Where are you going to sleep?” At Spike’s pointed look understanding dawned in the older man’s eyes. “Ahh. I see.”

“Actually I need to talk to you about something.” Motioning him to wait, Giles hesitated then blurted out, “Darla’s back in Los Angeles. She’s eight months pregnant.”

“What in fucking hell?”

“That was about my reaction.” Waiting a bit, Giles then said, “its also Angel’s.”