It's Not Enough

By:  Morrigan


A/N:  Sorry, it's been a while since I updated.  RL has a way of messing things up, like that.  I hope you guys like this one.  Please leave a review and tell me what you think!  Thanks!

Once again, I wanna give a shout-out to my wonderful friend, Blacknblue2, who always manages to do a bang up job beta-ing these chapters, while still getting them back to me, in record time cause she knows I'm an impatient, insecure loony!  Thanks so much girl!  You are the best!


Disclaimer:  All characters are property of Joss Whedon and ME.  Please don't sue me, cause I don't have anything worth taking, and I'm just havin' me some fun!



"Hey, Will.  Where you goin?"

Willow stood stock still in the doorway, her eyes fixed in a deadpan stare.  So many thoughts and emotions were whirling around inside of her that she could't find her voice.

'Yay!  Oz is here!  Uh-oh,  why is he here?  Why now?  Wait...  What if it's not him?  What if he's dead, and it's The First?  No, I would have known if something happened to him...  Wouldn't I?'

Travel bag in hand, Willow reached out her arm as if she meant to hand it to him.  "Oz?"  She questioned, her voice barely above a whisper, before she let go of the bag's handle and let it fall heavily onto his foot.

"Ow!  Hey!"  Oz exclaimed, hopping back and gesturing to his offended foot.  "What was that for?"

Shock, fear and doubt gave way to relief as Willow flung herself into Oz's arms, nearly knocking him off balance, and enveloping him in a powerful bear hug.

"Oh, Oz!  It's You!  It's really you!"

"Well, yeah...  It's...  Really me," Oz responded, awkwardly, while patting Willow on the back.  'Quirky welcome,' he thought.   But then, quirkiness *was* one of the things he always loved about her.

After another squeeze, Willow stepped back with an embarrassed grin and motioned for him to come inside.   After shutting the door behind them, she tucked her hair behind her ears and asked,  "So, what brings you here?"

Oz shrugged.  "The winds are changing...  Where else would I be?"

Willow watched as Oz looked around the living room.  His gaze traveled over all the rolled up sleeping bags along with the various weapons peeking out from half zipped travel cases and the stacks of spell and research books piled on the coffee table.

"Slayer-ware slumber party?"  He asked, teasingly, as he turned his attention back to her.

"I know," she replied.  "It's kind of a mess..."

"Willow, is that you?"  Giles called from the kitchen before coming through the doorway with a glass of scotch in hand.  "I must say, that was the quickest L.A. turn-around I have ever heard of!"

Upon spotting the young man at Willow's side, Giles stopped, mid-step and graced him with a surprised half-smile.  "Oh, my!  Oz...  How very good to see you!"

He walked the rest of the way to stand with Oz and Willow and shook Oz's hand, warmly.  "It's been quite a long time!  How have you been?"

"Alright, Man."  Oz replied.  "I've gotta admit though, I've been better.  You?"

Giles nodded his head, and sighed before taking a swig from his tumbler of scotch.  "Much the same, I'm afraid.  A lot has happened since we all saw each other last."

"Yeah," Oz nodded thoughtfully, in return.  "I get that."

Motioning for Willow and Oz to follow him, Giles turned with his now empty scotch glass and began to walk back toward the kitchen to refill it.  He began to speak in a tentative, conversational tone as the two of them came to lean against the counter behind him.

"Actually, Oz...  It's really quite fortuitous that you showed up at this time.  You see, we're in the middle of a situation here, and well...  We could rather use the help.

Both Giles and Willow cast curious glances Oz's way as they heard him snort and stifle a little laugh.  "A situation, huh?   Well, I guess that's one way to put it."


*  *  *  *  *


'Never thought I'd land here again, so soon,' Spike thought to himself, as he gazed around at the dimly lit lower level of his old crypt.

He had made short work of the three vamps at the school.  So short in fact, that it would have been laughable had Buffy's own life not been at stake.  As things were, their endings were barely worth mentioning. Except for maybe one of them.  The one Spike had seen approaching her, while the other two held her arms.  He had thralled her, something that Spike thought was cheating at best, even under the most ordinary circumstances.  But, to thrall a slayer?  No self respecting vampire would do such a thing!

Well... except for maybe Dru.  But, she was insane.

No, that sorry, pathetic excuse of a demon didn't deserve a quick dusting.  Spike had twisted the git's head clean off like a bottle cap.  It had taken a little more effort, but it left him feeling much more satisfied.

However, when all was said and done, Spike found himself with an unconscious slayer to care for.  As much as he wanted to get her home, he didn't think it would be wise to be seen carrying her all the way back to Revello drive.  For better or worse, it looked like it was time to pay his friend, Clem, a visit and check up on how his old place was holding up.

Fortunately, Clem was still there.  And, his initial happiness at seeing Spike again was just as quickly replaced with concern for the girl Spike held in his arms.

Upon stepping through the door, Spike's first thought was that Clem had fixed the place up quite a bit. Hospitable as ever, he had been more than willing give up the lower level for the night, offering to kick it upstairs on the sofa in front of the telly, instead.

So now, here they were.

Spike leaned back against the wall and took a long pull on his cigarette as he watched Buffy stir on the bed.  She would be awake soon, and he didn't expect her to be very happy when she realized where she was.

After a time, her eyes fluttered open, and he watched her, from his position on the floor, as she took in her surroundings.

"Mornin', Sunshine," he greeted her, softly.  "Was beginning to think you'd sleep the night away."

"What am I doing in your crypt, Spike?"  She demanded, although weakly, sitting up and turning in his direction to meet his eyes with her own.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Luv.  I suppose you would rather still be in the football field, serving on tap for the three, vampiric stooges?"

Buffy's face twisted into a scowl, as she remembered being held by the two near fledglings, while the third vamp approached her, whispering to her...  She couldn't remember what he had said...

"You saved me," she stated, flatly.  "And, brought me here."

"well, yeah.  Didn't fancy bein' seen carryin' you all over town.  If word got 'round that some half-wit weaklings of the underworld had bested the slayer, every nasty in Sunnyhell would be out tryin' to get the last piece of you."  He shrugged casually as he concluded, "As much as I enjoy a good spot o' violence, I don't think that even I could take on that many demons at once."

Buffy ran her fingers through her hair, and groaned, loudly.  "I don't understand this," she said.  "I was tracking them.  I followed them all the way to the field, and then it was like...  It was like everything just blurred together.  I couldn't make heads or tails out of which sounds were coming from where...  Everything was so loud!"

She paused and shook her head in exasperation.  "And, I have all these...  Feelings and, and compulsions that I don't understand!  Every time I want to do anything, it's like there is something else in there, either giving me the ok, or trying to get me to do something else!  Like...  Like, when you leave the house, and halfway to your destination, this little nagging voice in your head makes you wonder, did I leave the stove on?  And, then you think, of course I didn't!  But, the little voice keeps bugging you, until you finally walk all the way back home, only to find that you did, in fact, turn it off and all you did was waste your time worrying about it, in the first place!"

Spike kept his silence, and just stared at her, one eyebrow raised curiously in response to Buffy's rant.

Widening her eyes and holding her hands up in frustration, she continued.

"It's like that!   You know that you are being stupid, when you go back to the house, because you *always* turn the stove off.  So, eventually, you just learn to ignore the voice, and you forget about it, and do what you have to do.  Cause, you know that home will be there, when you are done.  That's what these feelings are like."

Buffy looked to Spike, expectantly, secure in the fact that she had just explained her dilemma to the best of her comparative abilities, and waited for his response.

"Or," Spike drawled, "You get home, and find that your house, along with several others, has burned to the ground, and your neighbors are pissed as hell."

Buffy blinked, and shook her head.  "I don't think you got what I was saying," she said.

"Oh yeah, I do, Pet."  Spike nodded, and lit another smoke.  "I understand perfectly well.  You, on the other hand, do not."  Spike rose up from the ground and walked over to the bed, no longer caring if it *offended* her, and sat on its edge.

"You see, the little *voice*," he held his fingers up in air quotes, "we are discussing here, is all about your instincts."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but Spike held up his hand and continued.  "Now, just two days ago, if you were walkin' along, and your gut told you that some nasty thing was hiding behind something, you would have trusted that instinct, and had yourself a good slay."

"Yeah, but that's different!  *So* not like the irrational oven voice!"  Buffy interjected, before Spike gave her *the look* and silenced her.

"Is it?"  Spike asked.  "Or is it that you are trying so hard to rely on your enhanced hearing and sight that you are tuning out your demon?"

"I am NOT a demon!"  Buffy snapped, irritably, and folded her arms across her chest.

"Never said you were, Pet.  But you *are* a slayer.  And, you have always had a bit o' demon in you.  Now, just more so.  Its voice is stronger, so you don't trust it.  But, Buffy...  If you continue to fight it, you are only defeating yourself."

"For example," he rose up and walked around to the end of the bed where she was sitting and stood before her.  Curling his fingers upwards, he gestured, beckoning her to stand as he, himself, took a couple of steps back.

"Come on, Slayer," he coaxed.  "Give me your best shot."

"Spike, No."  Buffy wrinkled her nose and pouted, refusing to get up and take part in whatever little game he thought he was playing.  "I don't want to fight you.   And, you are right in front of me.  I could *so* kick your ass!"

"Uh-huh.  Sure, you could, Luv.  Just like you took care of those big bad fledges on campus a few hours ago.  I'm shakin' in my boots!"  He flashed her his best irritating smirk.

"Oh, so...  What?  Are you going to thrall me, now?"  Buffy asked, with an eye roll, for effect."

"Thrall you?  Pleeze!  Give a bloke some credit, here!  Only a half-wit would see you as enough of a threat to require a thrall, right now!  'Sides, I already told you, I never bothered with learnin' how."

"I'm not a threat?"   Buffy asked, incredulously.   Standing now, she pointed to herself and leaned toward him.  "I'll have you know I most definitely AM a threat!  Slayer, here, remember?!  Just because I got ambushed by a couple of un-dead high school jocks and a wanna-be Dracula doesn't make me any less of a threat!"

Spike grinned at her, openly.  She really was a spitfire.  And she was so ridiculously easy to piss off!

"That right?"  He asked, beckoning her with his hands, again.  "Then prove it."

"I will," Buffy threatened.

"Liar," Spike retorted, tauntingly quirking one brow as his eyes turned gold.

"Shut up!"  She hissed at him, taking one step closer and pointing.

Spike remained in human face, despite the glittering gold of his eyes.  He stretched and yawned, in a dramatic display of boredom.   Afterwards, he fixed his stare back to hers and grinned wickedly, revealing his fangs which had drawn down, as well.  As Buffy stared angrily at his partially transformed features, he ran his tongue over his teeth and replied simply.

"Make me."

'Ooh!  Sexy, infuriating Vampire!'  She thought.  Instead, what she said was,  "You asked for it!"  Before swinging her fist toward his smug, egotistical, grinning face.  And meeting nothing.

'Damnit!'  She cursed inwardly as he danced just out of her reach, laughing as she regained her stance.

The two of them hadn't sparred in quite a while, and she had forgotten just how fast he could be, when he wanted.  She often wondered if he let her get in half of the hits he took, but would never ask him.  She had a hunch that he had always been better than he had let on.  She figured he was sick like that.  'Kinky, sexy, infuriating, smug, egotistical, vampire bastard!'

Just as Buffy prepared to swing again, he stepped forward and feinted to the right.  She saw this coming, and prepared to block him on the left, but instead, jumped as she heard a sharp clanging noise from slightly behind her.  As she did so, Spike swung in, His hand tangling in her hair, and jerking her head back, exposing her throat and knocking her off balance as he continued to walk forward, until she was dipped low, held up only by his arm, and un-able to kick due to the way he had straddled her legs, and pinned them between his own.

Still grinning, he snarled at her.  The low, inhuman sound echoed throughout the room and sent chills down Buffy's spine, despite the fact that she knew he didn't intend to really hurt her.

And then he stopped.  "You're dead."  He stated.  "Would you like to know what did you in?"  He asked, setting her back on her feet and stepping to the side.

He walked over and picked something up off of the floor, from behind where she had stood, and held it up before her.

"Your house keys."

Buffy stared in shock at the keys he held in his hand, forgetting her anger with him, and shook her head in disbelief.  "But, the noise I heard...  It was so loud!  It sounded like a weapon...  Like, someone else was behind us.  It was just my keys?!"

Spike nodded, sympathetically.

"The sights and sounds are always overwhelming, at first.  It's like being born all over again.  You have to learn everything from scratch.  Until then, it's all about instinct."

"I can't believe I let you distract me with my house keys," Buffy sighed, in disgust.  "Some great warrior girl, I am!  The First is going to kill us all with my keys!"

Spike tried to hide the little chuckle that was building up within him, but he wasn't doing a very good job.  He let out a little grunt as Buffy elbowed him in the ribs for it.  "Jerk," she said, as she flopped back down on the bed.

"'T's goin' to be alright, Pet."  He said, sitting down beside her.  "Just let go.  Stop thinking about it.  It's only been one night, after all!  Just you wait.  Before you know it, you'll be back to killin' everything within reach.  Just, try n' keep me off that list when that day comes, alright?"

A small smile formed on Buffy's lips in spite of herself.  She still felt pretty strange around Spike, but she was still thankful for him too.  He could piss her off quicker than anyone she knew.  But, he also had a way of making her feel safe when he was around.  But, maybe that was just because they had spent so much time saving each others' asses.  She suddenly couldn't figure out why she had been so scared she was going to kill him.

She ran her hands over the satin bedspread and looked up to the ceiling, watching the shadows cast by the torches dancing above.

She and Spike had spent quite a bit of time down here, in the past.  In a strange sort of way, it felt more like home than her house.  A home, her mother had once said, is where you learn and are accepted and loved.

She had learned more things in this very room than she would ever dare to speak of.  Things that made her blush to this day, when she thought about them.  Under his hands, she could lose herself and forget everything else.  And, although Spike's feelings were never returned, he accepted her as she was.  Even when she was afraid that her friends would not.  And, she knew that she was loved.

And here they were again, just like stepping into the past.  Spike had saved her from herself.  He had accepted her with her faults, and taught her something new about herself.  But, there was still something missing...

She turned to see that Spike had also reclined to stare at the shadows.  She watched him for a moment, before he seemed to sense her and looked her way.

"You alright, Pet?"  He asked her, his brow furrowing with concern as he noticed the look in her eyes.

"Yeah.  I think so," she replied.  "I was just thinking."

"'Bout what?"  Spike asked.  He figured that maybe she was ready to go home.  It was probably for the best.  Everyone was worried about her, and her sister would be a wreck if he didn't bring Buffy back by morning.  But, truth be told, he was enjoying just being here with her.

"About you," she whispered, chewing her bottom lip and wondering why she had even opened her mouth.

"Me?"  He wondered, aloud.  "What 'bout me?"  'Great,' he thought.  'She waits till now to hit me with the 20 questions about why I did or didn't do this or that...'

To his surprise, she propped herself up on her elbow, and leaned in closer, reaching over with her other hand to run her fingers lightly over his lips.

"I was wondering if you can still make me forget."

The shock of her words paled in comparison to what he felt as she leaned in and kissed him. Spike wrapped his arms around her, and
closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the
feeling of her lips on his.