Note: Thanks to my beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support.

SECTION 4 - ANGELS AND DEMONS

I'm sure you love someone
And someone loves you too
Any port in a storm is OK
You blow my mind with
All the things you say


(The Tourists)




Chapter 4.03
Wednesday, June 12th, 2002


Giles pushed open the door to Spike's apartment and then handed Oz the keys. "I'm afraid there's only one bedroom, but you should have more privacy here than you would have at Buffy's house. I'll get her set of keys when I go back to pick up Anya. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I probably won't be back before ninish.

If you do go out for a walk after dark, be careful. The Watchers' Council and their potential slayers are out in force at the moment. They might not be as well equipped as the Initiative was, but they're probably every bit as dangerous. Of course, under normal circumstances they wouldn't be aware of your condition but it has been established that an emotional response can bring on the change and now must be an emotional time."

Oz neither confirmed nor denied Giles' assumption. Instead, his eyes scanned the room, taking in the framed posters on the wall and the sealed packing crates stacked by the side of the counter. "Kind of a new direction?"

"The posters and some of the furnishings belong to Spike. The rest come with the flat. He was renting the place, but when I came back from England, he moved in with Buffy... or perhaps it would be more precise to say that the fact he had moved in with Buffy became official. I suspect this place was never much more than a smokescreen for the benefit of Social Services."

Giles scanned the room, pointing out which doors led to the bathroom and the bedroom and where he kept his whisky before his gaze became more serious. "One last word of warning... You may remember, back when you were in your final year at high school, there was a demon called The First Evil, who tormented Angel, almost to the point of committing suicide, by masquerading as his victims. It's back, it's stronger and it seems to be working on a more strategic level this time around. So far, other than causing general disquiet in the demon community as a whole by using dreams as some sort of call to arms, it seems to be taking some time to regroup after trying unsuccessfully to turn Spike to its purposes. Nevertheless, it can take the form of any dead person or anyone who has died, so if you see anything which you know you shouldn't be seeing, be very careful. It won't think twice about taking advantage of the situation, if it suits its purposes. If in any doubt about anyone, and that includes Buffy and Spike both of whom are vulnerable to impersonation, remember that it is unable to take corporeal form."

Giles sighed. "All very melodramatic, I know, but at a time like this, even under normal circumstances, it's easy to imagine that you might have caught sight of a loved one in a crowd, or imagine that you can feel their presence somehow and those perceptions are just the tool The First needs to gain a foothold in your psyche."

Giles made another visual sweep of the apartment as if to try to reassure himself that he had covered everything. "Is there anything else I can tell you?"

Oz shook his head. Later, he might get the watcher to fill in the blanks on what had happened to Willow, but first he just needed some time to process the fact that she was gone.

"Well, I'll be going then. If you do manage to get in touch with Devon later and you decide to relocate, just leave me a note."

The watcher finally closed the door behind him, leaving the werewolf alone to contemplate his eventful return to Sunnydale.

Oz let his kitbag fall to the floor and dropped onto the black leather settee. "Home Sweet Home," he told himself in a voice thick with irony.

---

"I'm sorry, Tara," Buffy gave the Wiccan a half-smile. "It must have been really hard just seeing Oz like that with no warning. With everything that happened I just completely forgot that I'd written to him."

"It-. I'll be fine. It was just... unexpected." Tara looked over to Giles, who had just arrived back. "There is something else that we all need to discuss, though. I was thinking maybe we could do the whole Scooby meeting thing tonight when Xander's here? If you can make it."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I was planning on trying to give Oz some space in any case."

Anya tapped her foot impatiently from where she stood in the open front door. "Come on, Giles. You know a lot of people like to come to the shop in their lunch hour and we've been closed for nearly an hour now."

Giles' eyes narrowed even as he made his way to the door. "Perhaps you would like me to sit or beg while you're at it?" Buffy heard him question as he and Anya made their way back to the car.

The slayer closed the door behind them, turning to Tara. "Anything I can be doing for this meeting?"

Tara gently shook her head. "I'm still working on some research type stuff. I'll be heading over to Wes's in a few minutes to pick Bee's brains. We've got something we want to try."

Buffy looked disappointed. "O-okay. Well, if you need me you know where I am."

Tara didn't say anything but her eyes drifted in the direction of the porch where Spike was still sitting as if to point out that others might be in more need of Buffy's time.

---

Buffy heard the door close behind the Wiccan as she left the house and she knew she was alone with Spike. Dawn, Brandon, Janice and a few of the other kids from their class had headed out for the beach for the day and Buffy wasn't expecting them back until around sundown. Giles had all but forbidden her to return to The Magic Box and she was left alone with all the thoughts she had been trying to keep too busy to examine for the last fortnight.

She tried to work out how she could get out of this massive hole she had managed to dig for herself. She wished they had never gone ahead with the claim. Giles was right. She hadn't realised what they were getting into. It was Spike's fault. She'd told him she was only about ninety-five percent certain. He should have made her wait until she didn't have any doubts at all. She sighed. 'Yeah, right,' a sarcastic little voice inside her said. 'It's all his fault and I'm just an innocent bystander!' However, even if she knew he wasn't to blame, part of her still felt that he was, and with just one touch he would know it.

The same touch would also have told him that she found his relief at Willow's death repellent. She could understand it, sort of. Dawn and she were the centre of his world and somehow, every time Willow got out of control Dawn seemed to be the one who suffered. With Willow dead, Spike felt more secure. She could see all too well where he was coming from. The truth was that she hated herself no less for the part of her that felt the same way, but her feelings, however much she was ashamed of them and wanted to keep them hidden, were just a small part of a massive cocktail of regret, inadequacy and longing for the redhead to somehow be returned to them. In many ways it was a reversal of the situation they had been in when Drusilla had been killed. Nevertheless, even though she knew it was unfair of her, she couldn't help but feel that where Drusilla was a monster, making her own lack of concern understandable, Willow's life as a human being had an innate sanctity and yet she barely registered on Spike's radar except as a potential threat. Spike could love. He did love, but a dead body was still just leftovers to him. If he hurt, it was because she did and she envied him that detachment at the same time she resented him for it.

She hated her vulnerability. She hated that with him she couldn't ignore those feelings within her that she despised. She hated that in the confusion of her grief, it was as if he knew what she was feeling before she did, as if he could separate out all the different emotions she was feeling, take them apart and analyse them in his intuitive way almost before she was even aware of their existence. She hated him being inside her head, for knowing her better than anyone should, and all she could do to protect herself was to push him away. It wasn't planned and this was probably as much as she had dared to think it through. It was instinctive.

She loved him. Somehow, she doubted that fact would ever change. It just hurt to be with him, to have to look so closely in the dark mirror that he presented her with.

...And yet, Giles was right. There was no going back. She couldn't unmake the claim and she knew that once... if they could make it through this quagmire of pain, then it could be good again. She had been happy. They were both happy. A tear slid down her cheek as she thought of Spike's laughing face as he spun her round, or the way he would look into her eyes as they made love, his gaze more intimate than the physical joining of their bodies. God, she wanted so much to see him smile at her again... but how could she explain? How could she tell him how ugly she felt inside? If only they could somehow move past all that without having to examine it to death. The wounds were less fresh now, there still, but maybe she could banish those thoughts to the back of her mind.

An idea began to form and Buffy moved to the wardrobe, searching for the packages she had brought back after her first LA shopping trip. The satin and lace had been intended for their honeymoon, but her current need was more immediate.

---

Spike looked at the few remaining cigarettes in his packet as he pulled out another and used the butt of the previous one to light it. Chain-smoking really hammered the supplies. He'd have to buy another carton later when it was dark. Rogue bounded up to him and dropped her spit-covered tennis ball by his side for him to throw it out into the back yard once more.

In the shade, the breeze could make it seem quite chilly, but Spike doubted that going back inside would be a very good idea. Buffy needed space and he was trying to give her it, but it was getting harder every passing day and he was beginning to think it would be better for him to leave the house altogether before his frustration drove him to do something he would regret later. It was ridiculous, considering he was paying nine hundred bucks a month in rent that he was actually contemplating going back to the crypt. He just didn't know how much longer he could watch her in so much pain and feel so helpless to do anything. At least somewhere else he wouldn't have to watch her try to avoid his eyes, or dig holes in his palms with his nails to stop himself from grabbing her and pinning her against the wall until she told him, one way or another, what was going on in that head of hers.

They had come so far. He had been sure that she loved him and then suddenly she made him feel like an outsider again. He knew she was confused, that somehow it was all tied in with her grief, but surely she knew that he wanted to help her. She had to know that for him hell was simply being separated from her in any way, but still the situation dragged on.

His head tilted slightly to one side as he heard the window of their bedroom being opened. Soft romantic music drifted down to him, music they had once made love to. Spike lay back and screwed his eyes tightly shut, trying to resist the siren call, sure that Buffy was probably busy doing something and had just turned the tape in the machine over without checking what it was and that the window was only open because the room could get stuffy. As he lay there, trying to get his feelings and his body under some sort of control again, the scent of his favourite perfume informed him that this was no accident. Buffy hadn't been wearing any scent that morning other than her deodorant, and if she was picking something for herself she would have chosen something lighter for a daytime perfume. The sensuous musky odour could only have been chosen to add to his torment.

Rogue bounded over once more, and this time instead of tossing her ball for her again he grasped her collar and pulled her back into the house, slamming the back door behind them. Once he was sure the dog couldn't wander off, he bounded up the stairs, pain and anger almost lending him wings. When he pushed open the bedroom door the sight before him made his blood boil. Buffy was curled on their bed, pale pink satin and lace encasing the lines of her body, pushing her pert breasts even higher and drawing in her waist so tight he was sure he could span it with his two hands.

Her eyes clouded over with lust as she eyed him standing in the doorway. Spike was sickened. He felt cheap and violated, that of all they had shared, the thing that would make her break down the walls she had been hiding behind wasn't him. It was just his body.

---

Buffy knew she had miscalculated as she saw his lip curl in disdain. Even as he turned on his heel she raced after him.

"Spike, stop! Wait! Please?"

While her commands didn't work, her plea at least made him pause but by then he was halfway down the stairs.

"Please what?" he asked. "Please fuck you like some whore? You spend weeks trying to distance yourself from me and then this?"

"Please, Spike, I just didn't know how to explain. I thought if we made love, then after or during it would come through bit by bit, without my having to put it in to words."

"If all you wanted was for me to understand, princess, then all you had to do was join me on that porch and take my hand. You didn't have to play games or turn it into some sort of circus."

"Okay, so I screwed up. What do you want me to say?"

"Sorry might be a welcome change... for a start."

Buffy's hand reached out and down from where she stood two steps higher on the staircase than Spike. Her fingertips brushed his cheek and as clearly as if she had said the words he felt it in his heart. There was a whole host of conflicting emotions but most of all he could feel her love and her regret at having offended him and for hurting him by keeping him at a distance. "I'm sorry."

Part of Spike wanted to draw out this moment, to make her pay for the forgiveness she sought, but this was Buffy. He loved her and he would do anything for her... especially when she was wearing a corset that propped her breasts up at eye level and barely covered her nipples.

"I know I should argue some more," Spike protested, "but since the blood is all leaving my brain, somehow I just can't think what about."

Buffy leaned in towards him, gasping when the tip of his tongue brushed the upper curve of her breast and one hand stroked her butt where her pastel pink thong left it bare, each caress surprisingly redolent of reverence as well as desire.

"I thought you were upset at me for wearing this?"

"I was upset at you for wearing it when we had stuff we needed to sort out. You're sorry. I forgive you... 'cause when it comes to you I'm a great soft tart. Don't do it again, if you can help it. It's sorted out. Now , you can seduce me all you want."

"I wasn't trying to manipulate you," Buffy tried to explain as she wrapped first one leg and then the other around his waist. "I just wanted to make it obvious that I wanted you to touch me again."

As Spike carried her back to their bedroom, the bulge in his trousers brushing against her satin-swathed centre, he made her a promise. "I'm going to touch you like you've never been touched before."