Author’s Note: Big thanks to Kar and my reviewers. I’m actually managing to get some writing done while the in-laws are here. So we’ll just have to see how long you’re left in suspense after this chapter. Please keep the feedback coming!

In our seventeenth installment the Harrises return to Sunnydale, Willow and Tara chat, Joyce volunteers for a mission, and Spike takes a ride (or two).


Chapter Seventeen: Entropy


“Hello, this is The Magic Box. Anya Harris speaking. Yes, we can order that for you. Three to five days. Shall I call you when it comes in?”

Anya sashayed around the display cases, dusting where things had gotten a bit filmy in her absence and beaming at the patrons. Lovely patrons with their lovely money that would go into the lovely joint bank accounts of Alexander and Anya Harris.

Mexico was beautiful. She hadn't been since the 1950s and Xander had surprised her by wanting to hear all about it. And her other travels, too. She left out the parts about eviscerating and mauling and all her clever ways of twisting the knife, and he'd been satisfyingly impressed with all the places she had seen. And all her identities.

So you were Countess Von Something once upon a time, and now you're okay with being Mrs. Harris?

That he could ask it like that made her just want it more. And it was real, not some costume she was putting on until the job was done. It was real, they were real. Their being a pair made her real.

She knew this was what other women had felt, women whose men she had ravaged for their betrayals. But it was impossible to imagine Xander ever putting her through that. It was certainly possible to imagine Xander doing other things to her.

"Miss?"

Anya blinked at the line that had formed in front of the counter. I beg your pardon. I am newly wed and distracted by thoughts of sweaty conjugal activities. But she didn't say that. She was learning.

"Oh, it's ma'am now," she gently corrected.


------------

"What are you thinking about?"

Willow sat up a little and continued watching the sunlight play over Tara's pale hair and shoulders. Her skin was just slightly warmer in those spots where the light filtered through the blinds onto the bed.

"Willow?"

Willow shook her head. "This is gonna sound weird, but I was thinking about Buffy." Tara made a face. "Not like that. I mean, I was thinking how she never gets to do this."

"But she does. She told me she stays at the crypt all the time and that her mom doesn't like it."

Willow could just imagine that conversation. It was so great being back on campus out of her parents' house. She could only imagine what it was like for Buffy being all grown-up but still having to live at home for such a long time. A few weeks with the 'rents and she was desperate for a place of her own. Even her Eta Beta Pi pledging new roommate couldn't sour the experience.

"No, I just..." She stroked Tara's hair. "The sun shining on you. You look so beautiful." Tara flushed and turned away a little. "And, if we wanted, we could go have a picnic or go to the beach. Buffy doesn't get to do any of that."

Tara shrugged. "There's a lot of things Buffy will never get to do."

"What does that mean?"

Tara looked caught. "Just, you know, being the slayer. It takes away some of your options."

Willow sighed. "And here we are talking about taking more girls' options away. Is that fair?" Tara pulled her back down, and Willow gratefully nestled into close to her warm, soft girlfriend.

“But these guys that are after them? If they were, you know, activated, they’d have a better chance of surviving, right?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Willow blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Of course we have to figure out how to even do that, and so far tracking down a cult that worships hearth goddesses hasn't yielded much."

"Doesn't that seem off to you, though? I mean, if they're part of Slayer origins, wouldn't they be into Athena or Brigid or even Durga? You know, someone less housewife."

"Maybe." The sun and Tara's heat where making her sleepy. "Maybe it's a cover."

"A hiding in plain sight thing?"

Willow yawned. "Could be." She glanced at the clock and frowned. "Bleh. I've got to get to class. I'll see you at Buffy's later, right?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Tara teased. "A Faith debate. Should be fun."

"Oh yeah, rollicking good time," she agreed with a giggle.

"Willow." Tara looked so happy just in that moment. Willow wished she could freeze-frame it somehow. "This is good."

Yeah, Willow thought, it really is.


------------

"Gin." Spike laid his cards down triumphantly.

"You so cheated," Dawn accused with her best glare.

"Sorry Bit, but that's a legitimate rout. Scout's honor."

Dawn snorted. "Eating Boy Scouts does not make you a Boy Scout, you doof."

Joyce shook her head. Every time she thought she had adjusted to the idea, someone or something managed to remind her that her daughter had taken up with a reformed serial killer. And she wasn't entirely certain about the 'reformed' part.

"Deal you in?" Spike asked her.

Dawn caught her mother's eye. "I should probably go do my homework," she declared.

Joyce took her daughter's vacated seat at the kitchen island. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the debate still going strong in the living room. "Are you alright?" she asked finally.

Spike gave her a rueful smile. "Yeah. Least ways she doesn't punctuate our arguments with a right hook these days." He shuffled the cards idly. "Just wish she'd listen to me on this one."

"Fair enough." Joyce happened to agree with Spike. Just because the trio of bothersome boys hadn't made a move lately didn't mean they were harmless. Sure, it was possible they'd decided to give up. It was also just as likely that the quiet was the calm before the storm.

Not saying this other isn't important. But don't forget about them, is all. Got a taste of killing and getting away with it. Gonna want more of that.

And for that deeply disturbing insight, thank you. But we've got a real problem right now.

"Not saying as this business with the Potentials isn't important, just don't want those prats sneaking up on her. And I'm no help because they're bloody human."

Joyce gave him a wan smile. "I'm sure she can handle it. This situation with Faith just has her rattled."

"Yeah. Gather there's a bit of history there."

It wasn't really her story to tell. She tipped her head back and listened to the on-going argument about who was best-suited to retrieve Faith from Los Angeles and what to do with her once they got her to Sunnydale. The option of leaving her in LA was being repeatedly put forward by Xander and repeatedly shot down by Buffy, who insisted they needed to keep an eye on her.

"Here we are talking about a multiple slayer situation," she mused aloud. "It's been hard enough on both of them with just the two. It wasn't designed that way."

"Time for a revamp then?"

She smirked at Spike, who smirked back. "You should really leave the bad puns to Buffy." She shook her head. "I think I have to play the Mom card."

Spike went out to have his smoke and she marched into the living room and cleared her throat. "The gallery needs a pick up made in LA next week anyway. I'll go get Faith and then she can stay here, where we can all keep an eye on her."

Buffy gaped at her. "Mom, you cannot be serious. The last time she was here--"

"I haven't forgotten any of that, Buffy. But since I am the only one in this room who is not openly hostile to Faith, I think that makes me the best choice."

Buffy seemed to hold a silent conference with Willow and Xander while Tara just looked exhausted. Her daughter sighed. "Okay, Mom. Okay. Just... be careful."

Joyce nodded and headed up the stairs. She hoped she knew what she was getting herself into.


-----


When Spike opened his eyes, Buffy was pacing around the room. With a defeated sigh, he pulled his jeans on and started toward to the door.

"Spike, where are you going?" Her eyes were huge and grey in the moonlight. "Don't go, okay?"

"Not doing you any good here though. You haven't even noticed that I am here."

Buffy gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? You totally had my attention, in case you and I weren't on the same planet." She gestured to the rumpled bed. "I'm sorry I'm not all... snuggly tonight. I've got a lot on my mind."

He relented immediately. He'd meant to have some spine about it, be offended that she wasn't confiding in him. But a Buffy apology was such a rare beast. "Worried about your mum with Faith?"

"Yeah. Just kinda worried about Faith in general." When he was near enough, she hooked her fingers in his belt loops and drew him in close. "You'll probably like her," she muttered glumly.

"Met her once already," he reminded her. "When she was wearing your skin." He ran his hand under the band of her cotton sleep shorts.

"You never told me much about that," she said quietly.

He shrugged. "Not much to tell. Seemed off, but you... or she'd been drinking quite a bit, and then later I heard the Scoobs talking about the switch." The memory was vivid, but there was no need to tell her that.

Buffy went all inscrutable on him, but he sensed that guessing correct answer to her next question was imperative. "Was she convincing as me?"

Spike shrugged. "Seemed off, like I said. Only talked to her a few minutes." He seemed to have passed the test because one warm hand coasted up his bare chest.

"You know, she's going to go after you." Buffy stared at him, hard. "Because you're mine."

He wondered if she had any idea what she did to him. One hand yanking him tight against her by his pants, her other hand firm on his arm, pinning him to the wall behind him. Eyes boring into him and her declaration almost harsh. "You're mine, Spike."

He tried to control his trembling as he answered. "Too bad for her then," he whispered. "Seeing as how I'm not interested and all."

The laugh that bubbled up out of her was just on the edge of hysterical. He pulled himself together and turned them so that she was the one pressed into the wall. She helped him push her shorts off and then her legs tightened around his hips as he lifted her.

"This isn't even an effort for you, is it?" she asked, that hungry 'you are a sex god' look on her face. Never ceased to whet his own appetite that she should be impressed by him.

"Not really, pet," he answered calmly before sliding up and in. The very idea that any woman could replace her, that he would ever give this up. Her heat, her fingers in his hair, the immensely gratifying look on her face, her little teeth biting at her lip to keep from screaming aloud and scandalizing little sis. Nothing and no one was worth giving this up, certainly not some tarty second-tier slayer.

"And are you mine as well, Buffy?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

Her nails dug into his scalp. "Yes!" She was panting, working up to her second high. "Yours, Spike." He felt her seizing up on him but was determined to keep it going, see how long he could last in her. Her lips grazed his ear. “Show me your other face,” she whispered.

He drew back, surprised at how very much he did not want to do what she asked. But he was ever at her command, so he brought up his game face and tried to keep his rhythm as he waited for her reaction. Would it repulse her? Or get her hotter?

She tilted her head and studied him, her little panting breaths the only sound she made. Finally she reached up with one hand to smooth over his brow ridges and leaned up to carefully kiss his dangerous mouth, almost chastely. Then she shook her head ever so slightly, and he shook his as well to bring back his human features.

“What was that about?” he asked when they finished.

Buffy shrugged and stroked his cheek. “I don’t know. I just wanted to see.”

“See what?”

“You, I guess.” She huffed a laugh. “That sounds so stupid. I just mean… I don’t know. I love you, and I thought I should see.”

Spike didn’t even try to pretend he understood. Instead he kissed her and tried very hard not to think about what might have happened if he’d bitten her tongue. When he could feel his legs again, he kissed her drowsy eyes closed and left her snug in her bed. It was late but not near sunrise. If he was lucky he might be able to get something on the magician of the Trio from a Warlock he knew on the outskirts of town.

When the car came toward him at full speed down the wrong side of the two-lane highway, he tried to swerve. But so did they. As he fell into the dark he thought to himself that at least he'd gone out on a high note.

--------------

I have a draft of the next chapter going already. So depending on the availability of my computer with guests around, I’ll try not to keep you waiting too awful long to find out what happened to Spike.