Inside the living room, silence reigned.

Outside, the thud of booted footsteps echoed back and forth, back and forth on the other side of the open double doors.

“I could try again,” Anya’s voice was uncharacteristically meek. The charred remnants of her last attempt at a locator spell rested on the coffee table next to the shoebox holding the mystery jar.

“Ahn, it’s okay. I think the inlay has been flambéed enough,” Xander scooted across the couch and gave his fiancé’s shoulder a quick squeeze of reassurance before resting his hand on the small of her back.

“We could search Giles’ apartment again,” suggested Dawn from her perch on the armrest of the couch.

Spike’s voice called from the doorway, harsh and clipped, “Nothing there, but what you’ve got in front of you. Watcher hasn’t been in his flat in days.”

“Dawn, what else was in that file?” Buffy asked. Her voice was businesslike, but her eyes were flat, and she was leaning weakly against the wall, arms crossed across her chest. Meret had taken a protective position on the mantle, announcing to the vampire, at least, how brittle the slayer’s mood really was.

The flustered girl flipped through her papers as if something helpful would fall out in the shuffling. “This is it, Buffy. You should have found some cash, maybe some old jewelry. Maybe a sword or something. I didn’t find anything about freaky soul-jars or skeletons in nets, or whatever.” Dawn gave the folder a look of wounded betrayal.

“I brought books,” Anya suggested hopefully. She picked up the top two titles: Doppelgangers and Changelings and Reliquaries: A Full Color Manual. “Giles had most of the more relevant texts in his apartment. I have a list of the ones he obtained after acquiring the Magic Box in my inventory. He set up a lending policy with some of the larger L.A. distributors, but it will take many business days to get new copies.” The former vengeance demon let the books drop back into her lap after her comments were met with uncomfortable silence.

Spike spoke without breaking stride. “Books’re most likely gone too. Shelves were pretty much picked over.”

Buffy let her arms drop to her sides. “So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. Giles is missing. Maybe he’s been possessed, maybe he’s dead in a ditch and we’re dealing with his evil twin, we don’t know,” her voice cracked with badly concealed emotion. “Either way, some of his old witchy friends just used dial-a-vamp to tell us that something really, really bad is about to rain on our man hunt, which may or may not actually be related to the Giles situation at all.” It didn’t take vampiric senses to see the way the slayer’s lower lip was starting to tremble, how her hands, no longer hidden from their tucked position at her sides, were clenched on the hem of her lacy blouse, worrying the delicate fabric to the edge of ripping. She took a deep breath and forged onwards, “Doesn’t matter though, because everyone and everything that could help us figure it out is missing or on the other side of the planet.”

Meret’s head went up like a shot, and twin images of white eyes, one framed with red hair and one with yellow, flared in Spike’s mind. The vampire stopped in the foyer, and put a hand to his head. Something didn’t feel right. In fact, the connection didn’t feel like Meret at all. “Slayer, that might not be…”

“Spike!” The voice, or was it voices, flooded his mind with much more force than before. It felt like he was holding a live wire.

“That you, Glinda?”

The others were looking at him like he was crazy. He only had the time to roll his eyes before the connection was back, cascading through his mind with little electric tingles of energy.

“Kinda.” The voice’s pitch rose upwards, taking on a lighter, teasing tone that he also recognized. “I’m in here too,” Willow said. “Not to just cut to the chase, but where are you right now?”

“Slayer’s house,” the vampire started blinking rapidly and he was starting to feel light headed. The waves of power coming from the witches were changing, growing or coming closer, it was impossible to tell. Either way, he was surprised his long-dead synapses weren’t misfiring from the mystical flood. “What’re you two trying to...”

“No time,” Willow/Tara cut him off, voices echoing in harmony with each other and the power behind them. “Where in the house, are you standing next to any furniture or anything?”

“Foyer and no, but…”

“Good. Hold still, you’re our focus.”

“Wait, what?!” Spike yelled, but he held still otherwise, even as his hands clenched at his sides. Willow’s magic was iffy enough without him intentionally undermining her efforts.

Twin points of white light appeared in front of the vampire. In the den, Spike could see Buffy drop instinctively into a fighting stance. Xander leapt to his feet in surprise and Dawn just gaped. Anya, on the other hand, seemed wholly unconcerned. Her hands were folded primly on the two books in her lap, and an expectant expression was painted on her face.

The sparks pulsed in tandem, rapidly growing in size and brilliance, until they finally flared with blinding intensity. After a fair amount of blinking and various surprised noises from the gathered Scoobies, the dancing lights behind Spike’s eyes faded and he could see what had happened.

Willow and Tara were standing in front of him, looking a little dazed themselves.

“Now, that was an interesting way to get around the usual human teleportation issues.” Anya spoke while everyone else in the room was still gaping. “Kind of an astral projection, anthromagnetism combo. I haven’t seen that trick in a while. Did the coven give you the final boost?”

“How did you know?” Willow slurred, still staggering a little from the spell.

The former demon shrugged. “Oh, the light gave you away. You sent your spirits ahead, and someone else pushed the rest of you along. Everyone knows that was how Samthann got out of her wedding.” Anya’s face took on a wistful, nostalgic expression. “She was a little before my time, but after I was elevated, she was really popular with some of the women who summoned me. I got to hear all about her.” She sighed dramatically. “Arranged marriages are so iffy.”

Xander wore the kind of pinched, uncomfortable expression that just made him look constipated. Spike forwent commenting on the boy’s obvious discomfort with his fiancé, in favor of steadying a wobbly Tara. The boy was really going to have to get over wanting Anya to pretend that she had always been an upstanding member of the human race, and soon what with the wedding looming, but the witch’s grateful expression more than made up for the missed opportunity.

Meret took the opportunity to flutter to a delicate landing on Spike’s shoulder. She extended a cautious nose towards Tara, who managed to smile and reach out a hand in welcome before her knees tried to buckle again, and only the vampire’s quick responses kept her from falling.

Willow looked like she would have liked to continue the conversation with the former demon, but the others had finally managed to shake themselves out of their stupor. Dawn was the first, babbling and exuberant as she ran across the room to hug the two witches. Buffy’s and Xander’s reactions were a little more restrained, but only just. Anya remained on the couch, as if uncertain of her welcome into the Scooby reunion. Xander unknowingly earned back a few of his lost points with the vampire by reaching a hand out to her, unconsciously inviting her into the rest of the group.

There was more babbling, and more than a little tottering and stuttering on the part of the two disoriented witches, but when Tara rested her hand delicately on Willow’s shoulder, the two Wiccas’ shared a look that quieted the others.

Buffy stepped a little forward, instinctively taking the lead. At her hopeful expression, Tara spoke. “We think we know what happened to Giles.” She shared another look with her girlfriend, whose elfin face was lined with worry.

Even Dawn’s usual animation was stilled in the ensuing silence.

It was Willow who finally spoke. “We think he’s being possessed.”

*****

The back door swung open soundlessly, and Spike was confronted with a familiar sight on the back porch. It was a different night and he wasn’t holding a shotgun, but the similarities were there. Buffy was huddled against the same railing on the same step, knees propping up her elbows and hands cupping her tear streaked face, illuminated in profile by the porch lights.

The others were still at work tearing through the few books they did have and searching through the endless waste of the internet. Xander had left and returned, bearing pizzas and caffeine. Anya had gone with him and spent the time it took her fiancé to pick up the food raiding the watcher’s apartment for any books that looked helpful.

There hadn’t been many.

The slayer had shut her book and slipped out of the dining room fifteen minutes ago. When she hadn’t returned, Spike had left Willow talking on the phone with someone named Yvonne, Dawn and Tara pouring through the girl’s original folder on the Crawford Street mansion, and Xander hovering over Anya while she wrote down details of various exorcisms.

The vampire’s lips quirked into the barest of smiles, when he spotted a scaled tip of a crimson tail poking out from under the kitchen curtains. Even Spike could recognize that some battles simply weren’t worth fighting. The serpentine spy could stay.

The slayer didn’t look up when he sat down on the step next to her, but she didn’t flinch away as she once had when an awkward, comforting hand came to rest on her shoulder.

They sat in silence, Buffy staring into the clear night sky, Spike watching the equally unfathomable planes of her face. Finally, the slayer wiped a hand across her eyes and looked at him. “Have they found anything else about Giles?” she asked in a small, weary voice.

“It wasn’t too hard to put two and two together after Red made her little announcement. Looks like we’re dealing with a not-so-dead necromancer.”

“Elaine,” Buffy whispered.

That had been Spike’s guess too.

“Looks like. I ran the others through the dream and the Bit is up to her eyeballs in the Morelock family tree as we speak,” he tried to sound upbeat for the slayer’s sake, but her expression didn’t change. “Red says she’s pretty certain she can put things right when we find him.”

“If,” Buffy whispered.

She had spoken so softly that he wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. “What?”

She looked at him, her eyes dull and defeated. “You meant if. If we find him.”

“No,” Spike started. And then more firmly, “No, slayer. You are not giving up.” He couldn’t even believe that he was having this conversation with her. “You’ll ride in on your white horse and save the day. It’s what you do.”

“Because I’m a hero,” Buffy’s voice was bitter, derisive.

The vampire hooked a knuckle under her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “Yes, you really are.”

The slayer’s eyes softened a little and she leaned into his hand. It was only sheer shock that kept him from pulling away in surprise. The vampire’s fingers uncurled unconsciously and ran along the soft line of her jaw in a feather-light caress. His eyes focused on her lips and everything else faded to black. It was the same tunnel vision that had characterized so many hunts in his long years as a predator, but this was another kind of chase. No less vital, no less important, but the rewards could be so much sweeter.

Neither spoke, but inside the vampire was screaming in exultation. He leaned towards her, testing the waters. Her heartbeat skipped and took off, and her skin flushed and warmed under his fingertips.

This can’t be real.

But it was.

This was really happening.

When Buffy tilted her head into Spike’s palm, sending her hair cascading against the vampire’s wrist…that was real. And when her breath hitched and her eyes met his, glittering with green and gold flecks…that was real too.

And when the back door burst open and Dawn came rushing through? That was definitely real.

Buffy jerked back and Spike froze like a deer in headlights.

“Buffy!” Dawn started before skidding to a halt. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh! Oooooh,” she finished with a knowing smirk. The girl started to snicker when a red streak flew out of the kitchen.

Meret was a flurry of flapping wings and irritated hisses while she chased the younger Summers back into the house. The door shut behind them again with a resounding thud. Too bad the glass and wood of the door couldn’t muffle the frustrated indignation coming from the coatl or the excited chatter from the teenager.

The moment thoroughly killed, Spike looked back at the slayer. “Well, at least we know where those two stand,” he tried to joke. In truth, he was flailing around in deep water, trying to figure out how he should react. The entire situation had blindsided him.

Buffy’s face fell back into her hands, but at least she wasn’t crying this time. What she was doing was blushing. The red stain was creeping out from beneath the shield of her hands and tousled hair.

“Look, slayer, I…”

She stood up abruptly, effectively cutting off the vampire’s uncertain words. “I… I can’t do this right now.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, lips pressed thin in the attempt to regain control of the situation. “I need to find Giles.”

Spike looked up at her from the step, heart in his eyes. “Buffy…”

The use of her real name must have made an impression, or maybe she was teetering on the same knife’s edge as the vampire, but she dropped her hands and offered one to Spike. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, but it was only when Buffy pointedly kept a hold on his hand that the vampire met her eyes again.

“We’re not done with this, Spike.” Heat still colored her face, but she stubbornly maintained eye contact. “Later,” she squeezed his hand before letting go. “I promise.”

He nodded in resignation before tilting his head, a weak attempt at his usual confident mask back in place. “I came out to see if you wanted to raid granddad’s old digs. Beats the hell out of readin’ old burial records.”

The slayer’s smile was light, the teasing weak, but still there. “It’s a date.”