She’d wished for waffles, specifically buttermilk waffles from the Pancake House in Santa Monica. And she’d wished for freshly squeezed orange juice, but with all of the pulp strained out. While she’d been wishing for those things, he stirred.

“Mind on somethin’, pet?”

“Just ordering breakfast.”

“Hmmm … good idea.” He focused on a pot of tea, and sausages.

The tray shimmered into existence on Buffy’s lap, with both of their meals laid out complete with flowers.

She pronged a forkful of waffle. “Now this is bliss. Do you think I could wish for calorie-free waffles?”

Spike quirked an eyebrow. “Dunno, luv. From where I stand, you could use a few more pounds on that frame of yours. Startin’ to look like an anorexic starlet these days.”

“What?”

“Jus’ sayin.”

“That I’m too skinny? You can never be too rich or too skinny.”

“Thin, pet. The quip is ‘too rich or too thin.’”

“Exactly.” She speared another bite of waffle, drenched it in triple-berry syrup and shoved it in her mouth.

“Look, you burn how many of those calories on a patrol? Just marchin’ the length and breadth of Sunnyhell? And then factoring in the odd fight with a baddie?”

“Maybe a couple kajillion.” She rolled her eyes.

“So if you don’t eat, ducks, you’re going to start reminding me of a scarecrow.”

She shrugged, and reached for the tea bag. “Darjeeling?”

“Comes from India. All the rage when I was a lad.”

She snorted.

“What? You think you lot invented trends?”

Buffy tried for an English accent. “Nothing like a cup of tea to relax after a hard day in the killing fields? Guv’nor?”

“First, never, ever, ever try to mimic my accent again,” he said with a bemused smile. “And so what do you care what I quaff, as long as its not the blood of innocents?”

She bit back a giggle. “Fancy a cuppa, guv’nor?”

“Alright, Eliza Doolittle.” Spike wished the tray to the floor, and a second later pounced. “Let’s teach you to mock the Queen’s English!” He reached for her ribs, tickling mercilessly.

Buffy kicked and flailed underneath him, but mostly managed to tangle her limbs in the Egyptian cotton sheets. “Spike! Stop! You’re evil!”

“Now that’s better. Hearin’ your familiar, dulcet tones.”

“I’m not dull,” she protested.

“No, not at all,” he teased back. Her hair was everywhere, falling across her face and tangled in knots; cheeks flushed. She looked delectable, but something put the breaks on his libido.

She looked young, incredibly young, and in a strange way, all of a sudden reminded him of Dawn.

Instead of continuing his assault, Spike relaxed back into the pillows and reached for his cup of tea.

“Hey!” Buffy rolled over on to her side, pushing her hair back and frowning at her companion. “Why you’d stop? You were all pounce-y and wriggly and now you’re bringing the grimace.”

“Not a grimace. Just a serious thought.”

“Those were confiscated at customs.”

“Maybe so, pet.” He frowned and she sat up, draping a sheet over her breasts like they do in movies. “Maybe so. But I can’t rightly figure – we’ve been here three days? Four? Lot can happen in 96 hours.”

Buffy’s expression turned serious. “You think we should go back.”

He sighed and met her eyes.

“Time might not be the same here as there.” Buffy swallowed, knowing her excuse was lame. “It might only be a few hours, back … home.”

“True enough. Or, ‘course, we could’ve been here weeks. Years, even, I’ve heard of that.”

Buffy nodded, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Izitme?” she blurted out in a husky whisper.

“What’s that?”

“Is it … me?”

“Buffy! No! No, oh God … I … no. It isn’t you, not you at all. This place is, well, it’s paradise. Thinkin’ of going back, and givin’ all this up? It breaks my heart in two. I jus’ … I just know that even if, right now, you’re not gung ho ‘bout headin’ back, there might be a time. And if we can’t get back, then, I don’t want to feel like the one who kept you locked up here.”

She nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay, you believe that I don’t secretly find you repulsive?” Spike watched her face closely, and thought he saw the tiniest traces of a smile playing around her lips. “Or okay, we try to figure out how to get back?”

The smile emerged, not a full-on Buffy smile, but a gentle upturning of her lips. “Both, Spike,” she murmured, pulling him in for a kiss. “Both.”

***

Dawn woke up as the morning light broke through the windows. No one had pulled the drapes last night – more evidence that Buffy was very much not here, she noticed, as she rolled over on the couch.

Willow was right where she’d been when Dawn closed her eyes for just a few minutes a couple of hours ago – cross legged on the floor, working through the complexities of the locator spell and opening a portal.

The front door swung open. “I found something that might work,” Tara said as she handed a small jar to Willow. “I had a little bit of agrimony left from our last disinvite spell.”

Willow nodded and took the herbs from Tara. “I’m not sure if it’ll be strong enough on its own.”

“I know, so I stopped and got some coriander, too.” She handed over a plastic container.

“FoodMart brand herbs, nothing finer,” Willow muttered, twisting the red cap to sprinkle the herb liberally. “Ready to give this a whirl?”

As the witches joined hands and chanted, Dawn watched the symbols in between them shimmer.

***

Buffy’s body was still tingling from their latest round of sexual exploits when Spike’s wicked smile had turned wistful. Before she knew it, he was running out onto beach like a crazy man, telling Buffy that he wanted one last swim before they got serious about getting back.

She’d followed, wishing up a lounge chair on the beach, not too far from where Spike splashed in the water. Only after she’d turned over onto her belly, did it hit her.

Leaving the island meant leaving a demon-free paradise, one where she had far less responsibility than the average 20-something; but for Spike, the end of their vacation would mean never walking in the sun again.

Angel had waxed poetic about sunrises and high noon on a summer’s day and all of that, so she knew that some vampires longed for daylight. She might’ve assumed that Spike, what with his happy-to-be-vamped routine, wouldn’t feel that way, but the past few days had completely put that illusion to bed. He loved the sun, and was giving it up because it was – what? The right thing to do?

Buffy grimaced, and pushed all serious thoughts from her head, focusing instead of the feel of sunlight on her back. They’d decided to give themselves until dark to look for a solution, which meant she had ten hours – maybe less – of irresponsible bliss. With a contented sigh, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

Cold water dripping on her back woke her up. She flipped over to find Spike staring down at her, looking spooked.

“Think we might need to move our timetable forward a bit, love.”

“Why?”

She followed his eyes to his knees, and then lower. A huge gash dripped blood from his left calf.

***

Willow flopped back into the sofa cushions, frustrated.

“It’s working. I know it’s working.”

“Maybe we’re just not close enough,” Tara suggested. “Maybe Buffy’s nearby, but not near enough to see it.”

“Or, maybe she’s perfectly happy right where she is and is just ignoring the giant sign saying ‘This Way Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Crappy Existence’” Anya suggested.

“Ahn,” Xander started.

“No, Xan,” she sneered. “Listen, don’t you think it’s even a teeny bit possible that she’s happy wherever she is? Willow, you convinced us that Buffy was stuffed in a hell dimension, but she hasn’t acted like someone oh-so-glad to be out of eternal torment and fire and whatever.”

“Which doesn’t change the fact that the dimension isn’t stable,” Willow pursed her lips.

“Well, right,” Anya admitted.

“She’s not wrong, Willow. If Buffy doesn’t want to come back, we aren’t strong enough to pull her through the portal. She’ll have to step through. And we’re wasting our energy holding it open if she’s not nearby.”

“Alright, so what do we do?”

Tara frowned. “Maybe try to talk to her again?”

“That worked so well the last time.”

Tara was silent for a minute. “So what if we tried to talk to Spike?”

***

In the end, Dawn had come up with the answer.

Tara’s sentence had marked the moment that everyone – finally – acknowledged that Spike must be with Buffy. And while the Slayer could go days without watching television as long as there was a shopping mall nearby, Dawn insisted that Spike’s paradise would certainly include a telly.

While they acknowledged her point, they also resisted speculating how a vampire would survive on a sun-kissed island.

Instead, Dawn agreed that they could charm the sole television set at Revello Drive. Xander refused to offer up his brand new HDTV-ready set, but promised that if something went amiss, Dawn could come over and watch MTV at their place.

***

“What was it?”

“Dunno. Giant snapping turtle crossed with a shark’s mouth or somethin’.”

“So does this mean …”

“Right now it means I need to get a band-aid.”

She wished, and he wished, but nothing happened.

With a shrug, Spike started limping towards the house, trailing blood across the white sand.

“Here, stay on the patio,” Buffy insisted, pulling a chair over, “I’ll see if there’s a kit in the bathroom.”

She must’ve conjured it up previously, because gauze and tape and all matter of medicinal supplies were stowed in a large white plastic box under the sink. Buffy was back on the patio in a matter of seconds.

“Hold still,” she ordered, pouring antiseptic over the wound.

“Tssss! Burns!”

“Shhh … it’ll be alright.” She went to work wrapping the cut, trying not to look at the jagged tear. “I think you need stitches, Spike.”

“Well, then, one more reason to get back to reality, right?” He tried to stand, but staggered instead.

“Got the woozies?”

“Huh?”

“It’s the blood loss. Let me find you some juice.”

She scurried into the kitchen, returning with sugar cookies and o.j. and a feeling of total dread. They would have to find a way out if the beach was taking big bites out of them. She wasn’t certain how much of her slayer strength – or Spike’s supernatural abilities – had come through with them.

“Here. This should help.”

He ate obediently, trying not to meet Buffy’s anxious eyes.

“Did you leave the telly on, pet?”

“What? No.” She listened. “Willow?”

***

“Guys, hurry. Listen to this!”

Jonathan turned up the volume as the three boys clustered around the computer monitor. “This is the spycam in the Magic Box!”

“I don’t see what the big deal is, anyway. I was a demon, Xander. I killed lots of people. Spike was a vampire. He killed lots of people. It’s the same, right?”

“Yes, but now you’re a people, and so I’d like to think you’re on our side. Except that you keep standing up for Dead Man Walking.”

Anya shrugged. “It isn’t about sides. It’s about accepting the obvious.”

“The obvious?”

“Never mind, honey. Let’s just get them back. We’re running out of time.”

“Ber’lethe said we’d probably have a week.”

“Not if there are two people there.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just leave Spike there.”

“Look, just help me get the stuff Willow wanted and we can argue about this after, okay?”

“Now that’s something to look forward to.”

Jonathan dimmed the volume. “That’s from just a few minutes ago.”

“So? They said they’re going to try to get the Slayer back. Not that they did.”

“Yeah, but Warren, Willow brought Buffy back from the dead. I don’t think some little alternate dimension is going to be a major hurdle.”

“So what? You want to what? Flee Sunnydale? Tails between our legs?”

“They’ve talked to the demon chippie,” Andrew said, his face clouding over. “He said Ber’Lethe. If they’ve talked to Ber’Lethe …”

“Maybe we could use a little change of scenery,” Warren agreed.

***

“Buffy, we’re trying to open a portal. We want to help you get back,” said Willow, her face taking up most of the screen.

“What’s this, then? Wicca TV, all spells, all the time?”

“Shut up, Spike. Willow, where? Where can we find the portal?”

The ground beneath them rumbled, and Buffy and Spike exchanged worried glances.

Willow’s image continued. “We don’t think the dimension can hold much longer.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Spike scoffed, steadying himself on the couch.

“We’re going to try opening it again in an hour. That’s – well, that’s 4:00 p.m. here. I can’t tell you exactly where to be … but we’re going to try to send up a flare, like magic sparks or something. We’ll hold it open as long as we can.”

The shaking intensified, and the television tumbled to the tile floor and shattered.

“I guess that’s our ticket, then.”

The ground stilled. “Should we pack?”

“What? You want to take souvenirs?”

“I was thinking supplies, Spike.”

He shrugged, but gathered up the contents of the First Aid kit and snapped it shut while Buffy ran upstairs to grab a duffle bag.

***

“What do you take to find an inter-dimensional portal?” Buffy scanned the closet. She decided to change into running sneakers and stretchy capri yoga pants, plus a hoodie, just in case it got colder. She grabbed stuff for Spike, too, then glanced in the bathroom.

“Why not?” she said, sweeping a bunch of the pricier cosmetics into her duffle.

“Let’s go!” she called, thundering down the stairs.

“Where, precisely, pet?”

“To the portal. Duh.”

“There’s not exactly a road sign out there, Slayer,” he said quietly. “Assuming they’re on our time, which it seems like, then we don’t have a prayer of finding it for 45 more minutes. And if they really have found us, there’s no sense running. Portal’s as like to open in the middle of the living room as anywhere.”

“Oh.” She flopped down next to him, dejected. “So what do we do for 45 minutes?”

Without another word, his lips met hers.

***

She’d ended up astride his lap, her sensible yoga pants flung across the room.

“It’s ten minutes ‘til four, love.”

“Yeah.”

“Best put our pants on, yeah?”

She nodded, sliding off his softening erection.

“Just gonna use the loo, then we’ll have a look about, alright?”

Buffy nodded, standing to rearrange her own clothes. She’d dressed and hefted her lumpy duffle bag over her shoulder by the time Spike returned.

“What’s with the tote, pet?”

“Just a few … things.”

He smiled.

“What?”

“What makes you think cursed products from a demon dimension will survive the trip?”

“They’re not cursed. They’re … Philosophy. And Stilla. Besides, don’t you take the fancy little bottles of conditioner and bars of soap from hotels? Mom always did.”

“Been a while since I’ve been on a business trip of that sort, I ‘spose. Want to go have a look around outside?”

With a nod, and a defiant swing of her bag, they stepped outside and scanned the horizon.

Nothing.

And then the earth shook again. With a pop, the house behind them disappeared, and they were standing on sand that stretched for miles.

Despite the heat, Buffy shivered.

“Stick together, yeah?”

“Yeah.” They fell into step, heading east in silence.

Buffy scanned the skies determinedly, but her mind wandered. Could she really be friends with Spike back in Sunnydale? It had seemed like a convenient description of their angst-free relationship on the island, but back home? If she were honest, it wasn’t just the social part that bothered her – she could see that maybe, just maybe, she should’ve been nicer to him pre-Portal. But it was the other part. Could she really keep having earth-shattering sex with Spike once she was back in Sunnydale with Willow and Xander and Dawn and – well, and ordinary life?

What did regular girls do? You go away with a guy for a weekend, right? She saw that on television. And then you get back and then what? Bridget Jones caught Daniel cheating on her. That wouldn’t happen – she figured – with Spike. She searched the corners of her brain for other examples of how couples ended up after weekend interludes.

She really ought to say something to Spike, she figured. And she was just practicing the lines, imagining the words. Spike, these past few days have been really great, but can we not say anything when we get back to Sunnydale? At least, not right away. I just don’t know how I feel, and I want to get back and make sure everyone knows we’re okay and then maybe think about this and then …

“Up ahead!” Spike called, and grabbed her hand. “See that?”

She nodded, one word forming on her lips. “Home,” came out as a half-whisper, barely loud enough for Spike to hear.

Showers of green sparks formed an archway above a swirl of green and blue light, shimmering but stable.

Tears of relief flooded Buffy’s eyes, and she lunged forward. “Let’s go!”

And then the earth shook again, and the palm trees and sand started to disappear with a pop. Buffy struggled to breathe, and barely jumped back in time as a long, jagged crack split the ground in front of her. The sky came alive with roars, as the peaceful shore birds turned into prehistoric flying beasts, their mouths snapping to display ragged rows of teeth.

“Slayer!” Spike screamed, tugging on her arm and dragging her around to where the spilt was just a tiny crack.

They leapt across, the portal seeming to retreat as they ran closer.

With a last burst of energy, the pair bounced up against the swirling light. The air crackled, and Buffy felt like she was being shoved through Jell-O.

And then, “You’re home! Oh, thank God, you’re home!” Dawn flung herself at her sister, then at Spike, who was too busy leaping behind the chair to notice.

“Draw the drapes! What? Trying to sizzle me to a crisp?”

Anya gave Xander a warning look and he settled for piling into the big Buffy hug that Dawn and Willow already formed.

“Are y-you okay?” Tara crawled next to Spike. “The curtains are closed now.”

He nodded, and stood, flexing his injured calf muscle as he stood, and noticing what he’d sensed as soon as he crossed.

His heartbeat was gone.

***

“I don’t see why we have to go to Mexico,” Andrew whined. “And in a VW bus.”

“Shut up, little man,” Jonathan barked. “If you hadn’t messed up that protection spell, we wouldn’t be high-tailing it out of town in anything.”

Warren gripped the wheel tighter. “Look, it was this or Greyhound. How should I know that the First National Bank of Dilliner only keeps a couple of thousand around in cash?”

“We don’t even know if they’ll be able to get Buffy back,” Andrew added, pouting.

“And I say again, they got her back from the dead.”

“Listen, let’s just get the heck outta Dodge and see what happens. I mean, supervillains always have a secret hideaway.” Warren turned away from the wheel to look at his friends. “A few days in the sun never hurt anyone, right?”

“I think that’s how we got into this mess in the first place,” Jonathan muttered.

***

He’d hid out until nightfall, skulking in the basement. Tara had re-dressed his wound, then headed back up to join the impromptu celebration. She’d said he’d be welcome, but he just gave her a sad smile and mumbled something about needing his rest.

He hadn't slept a wink, of course.

When he’d finally braved the upstairs, it was quiet. “Slayer must be slaying, and all’s right with the world,” he murmured, stepping onto the front porch.

Only to find Buffy, curled up on the porch swing, looking out over Revello Drive fondly.

“Sorry – didn’t mean to – just thought I’d bugger off now that it’s dark again.”

She nodded, not sure what to say.

“Listen, I know that the last few days were pretty, um, intense.”

“Yeah.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“But, um, if you want to, well … talk … about it.” He sat gingerly next to her, the porch swing rocking with his weight.

She looked up, meeting his eyes and smiling shyly. “I’m not sure I know what to say.”

And then her lips were on his, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer, into an awkward embrace.

Minutes passed, and Buffy slowly became aware that someone was looking at them. Not someone – some ones.

She chewed her lower lip, seeing Xander frozen in place with his stack of pizzas and Willow wide-eyed and nearly dropping her bottle of diet soda. Behind them, Anya and Dawn exchanged mischevious little grins.

The front door opened and Tara peered out. “That was fast, guys.” She blinked. “Why are you all standing there?”

Buffy met Tara’s eyes guiltily.

“Ummm … okay, see, I can explain.”


AN: I know, I know ... kind of a cliffhanger way to end a story. The sequel is in the works, but it will probably be a few weeks until I'm ready to start posting. Thanks so much for reading & reviewing all the way along!