This story happens about a year after Pangs, during season 5, sometime after Riley leaves but before Crush. Glory exists, but is in the background. This is in response to Challenge 131 here on the BSV. (Challenge requirements at the very end, or feel free to go hunt them down if you must know). The usual disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss Whedon, I’m just playing with them.
 
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Prologue:
 
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His brother was dead.
 
Gabriel, his beloved little brother, who had devoted his life to God. He had been the intellectual one of the family, a history buff. His life of promise had been tragically cut short. It had taken Dominic six months to find out what had really happened. The story was unbelievable at first. Killed by the spirit of a Chumash Indian? Could such things be possible? He learned about this girl, the Slayer, Buffy Summers. Her sacred calling was to protect the innocent, to destroy the forces of darkness. Instead she associated with witches and vampires, had been involved with men before marriage, and most damning in his eyes, had led the vengeful spirit directly to his brother. Dominic’s anger was slow to build, but became all-consuming. He spent another six months watching this girl and her group of dubious companions, all the while delving deeper into the magic arts. He watched the blond shop girl count her money, watched the bleached vampire strut and preen, watched the red headed witch grow stronger and more convinced of her own invincibility. They needed to know what their sins could lead to. They needed to understand what they had done. He wasn’t going to destroy them, but he was going to enjoy watching them destroy themselves and each other.
 
He saw them through the window of that profane store, The Magic Box. The Slayer was there, and her sister. He had seen the little miscreant stealing things once when he had pretended to be a customer. Too lazy to earn any spending money, little girl? The witches were there, the red haired one in her spell books, the other munching on pizza. The brown haired man was arguing with the vampire. Can you not see that all his insults are his because of his jealousy, his desire to have your level of self assurance? The shop girl danced as she totaled up the day’s profits. Dominic was ready. It was time for them all to feel his wrath.
 
He chanted quietly as he pulled the talisman out of his pocket. He tucked it in a small hole in the base of the wall behind the downspout near the front door as he finished the spell. Lust, greed, envy and sloth. Gluttony, pride and anger take you all.
 
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“What are you even doing here, bleached wonder?” Xander barked at Spike, as the vampire lounged annoyingly in a chair with his feet up on the table.
 
“Like I told you,” Spike said casually, “I came to find out if anyone had heard anything more about this Glory character. I figure with soldier boy gone, you lot could probably use some extra muscle. Plus, I’ve nothing better on tonight.” He loved tweaking Harris. It didn’t have the same effect as a good fight, but it was great fun on a slow night.
 
“Do you two think you could go maybe 10 whole minutes without bickering?” Buffy asked, exasperated. It was a toss-up which of the two men in the room was more annoying, and truly, she didn’t need to hear Riley mentioned, ever.
 
“How much longer are we going to be here?” asked Dawn in a slightly whiny tone. “There’s a movie I want to watch that starts in half an hour. Why couldn’t I just stay at home?”
 
“You can’t stay at home because there is a hell god out there, somewhere, and mom is out of town.” Buffy replied. Dawn just rolled her eyes and went back to stalking around the store.
 
“Yes! We made a lot of money off those new enchanted candles,” Anya bubbled happily from her position at the till. “I told Giles they were a sure hit.”
 
“Where is G-man tonight anyhow?” Xander asked.
 
“He had some engagement, he said,” answered Tara, polishing off the last piece of pizza.
 
“Has anyone seen that translation of the Sumerian demonology text I was looking at yesterday?” asked Willow, rummaging around on the table.
 
“Um, over here, Red,” said Spike, who was using it as a footrest.
 
Willow glared at him and grabbed the book. “This book is pretty rare. Do you think you could keep your dirty boots off of it?”
 
“Relax,” Spike replied, putting his hands behind his head. “I was just…”
 
A strange sensation passed through all of them at that point. It was like a collective shiver. They all found their trains of thought derailed for a moment. Then the feeling passed, and they started their conversation again, without remembering the pause at all.
 
After another 20 minutes of attempting to research whatever they could about hell gods, and getting nowhere at all, they decided it was time to split for the night. They all headed off in various directions – Willow and Tara toward campus, Xander and Anya toward their apartment, Buffy and Dawn toward Revello Drive, and Spike toward the nearest convenience store to stock up on cigarettes.
 

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Dawn found herself feeling more and more tired as they made their way home. “I just want to flop on the couch for a month,” she moaned. “I am soooo glad tomorrow is Saturday.”
 
Buffy, for her part, found she was getting incredibly irritated at her sister’s whiny tone. “You haven’t done anything today but go to school! What are you so tired about? I had to patrol AND watch you, so quit whining,” she snapped out. Dawn was surprised at her sister’s grouchy response, but didn’t feel like pursuing the conversation. Too much effort, she thought.
 
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Elsewhere in Sunnydale, the witches were making their way back to campus. Willow hadn’t found any new information on hell gods, but she had found a really neat spell to turn an enemy’s bones temporarily into rubber. She talked on and on about it to Tara. “It would be awesome to use on a vampire or robber or something. They would just fall to the ground, then you could stake them or tie them up or whatever!”
 
“That came out of that new book Anya just got in, didn’t it?” asked Tara. “I thought you said that book was a bit beyond you.”
 
Willow scoffed. “I didn’t say that, did I? Doesn’t matter. I could totally do that spell blindfolded. I almost wish a vampire would attack us so I could show you.”
 
Tara had stopped paying attention as they passed a coffee shop that was still open. The counter had a selection of pastries to go with the coffee, and they were calling to Tara. “Will, let’s get some of those muffins for breakfast tomorrow, ok?” Before Willow could answer, Tara was in the shop and buying a half dozen large chocolate muffins.
 
When she came back out, Willow said, “Isn’t that a bit much for the two of us?”
 
Tara took one of the muffins out and started nibbling as they walked. “Maybe. But these are seriously good. You have got to try one.”
 
“I’m full right now, but thanks,” said Willow. They continued homeward, Tara devouring the muffin, while Willow ran through spells in her mind.
 
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“What about magic demonstrations? Do you think that would draw even more customers in?” Anya was asking Xander as they got ready for bed. She had gabbled all the way home about needing new ideas to turn more profits at the store.
 
“What are you going to do with all this money, anyhow?” asked Xander peevishly. “You already seem to be making money hand over fist. I do construction work all day, getting filthy and exhausted while you do your little money dance and it all just falls into your lap!”
 
Anya was a little taken aback. “Are you ok, Xander? The money dance never bothered you before.”
 
Xander sighed. He wasn’t sure where this nagging jealousy had sprung from. “I dunno, Anya. I just sometimes with I could be someone different. Even Spike seems to have it easier than me, and he lives in a hole in the ground.”
 
Anya came over and put her arms around Xander. “When I get some more profits, we’ll get a nice house for ourselves. We can fill it with everything we want and live in the lap of luxury,” she said soothingly. “But until then, maybe we should get some sleep.”
 
Easy for you to say. You have a steady job and me. I only just got out of my parents’ basement for heaven’s sake. But Xander kept his insecure thoughts to himself and followed her to bed.
 
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Spike was sitting in his favorite chair with a bottle of whiskey, which he was using to wash down the blood he had just finished. Pig’s blood was never going to be something he got used to. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. Immediately, her face popped up in his mind. Slayer. Buffy. Lord she’s beautiful. He felt himself stiffening as he thought about her blonde hair, her toned muscles, the scent she wore. Almost of its own volition his free hand drifted down his chest to the buttons on his jeans. He popped them open one by one, imagining it was her sweet little hand doing it. Wouldn’t that be just heavenly, he thought as he freed his cock and began stroking. His eyes remained closed, imagining what she must look like under all those clothes. Tanned skin, curvy ass… oh yeah, Buffy. Want you so bad. His mind kept spinning fantasies of him fucking her in every position imaginable until he roared and came, shooting his dead seed all over his jeans and the floor.
 
He came down from the orgasm and noticed the mess. Haven’t wanked off in an age, he thought. Hadn’t needed to with Harmony around. But she had been a passing fling, and he was glad to be rid of her and her endless prattle. He got up and went down to the lower level of his crypt, shedding his stained jeans and his t-shirt as he headed for bed. Once he got there, he reveled in the feeling of the satin sheets against his skin. He once more started stroking himself, this time through the satin, imagining how it would feel to wrap Buffy’s hair around his cock. He found himself moaning aloud, ”Oh yeah, Slayer, so hot!” His fantasy completely took over until at last he climaxed again and collapsed panting onto his pillow. What’s gotten into me? I haven’t been this desperate for a shag in decades. Still pondering this, he fell asleep, dreaming of the Slayer.
 
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Dominic sat cross-legged on the floor of his small rented room. He was surrounded by candles and mystical symbols. The air was heavy with the scent of burnt herbs, and he chanted in a strange tongue. A silver bowl of water in front of him showed images, one after the other, of the Slayer and her companions. A faint smile curled his lips. It has begun.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the vampires belong to Joss Whedon. Ok, and the Scoobies too.
 
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Chapter 1: Of Sloth and Anger
 
When Buffy and Dawn got home, Dawn went up to bed almost immediately. “Aren’t you going to watch your movie?” Buffy inquired. You only whined about it a million times.
 
“Nah, I think I’ll skip it tonight. I can’t remember what channel it’s on, and I don’t feel like hunting for it. Good night,” she yawned as she headed upstairs.
 
Buffy frowned at her sister’s back. Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone too lazy to turn on the television. She moved into the kitchen and regarded the pile of dishes in the sink. Typical. Am I the only person under forty who knows how to do any fucking chores around here? She got the dishwashing soap from under the sink and slammed it down on the counter. She rolled up her sleeves and got to work, grumbling and cursing under her breath the whole time, “Motherfucking dishes. Every other house on the fucking block has a dishwasher, but not us. Fucking pisses me off.” She accidentally tossed a plate into the drying rack with such force that it broke. “Great! Fucking wonderful,” she growled out loud as she picked up the pieces.
 
She paused as she bent down to get a piece that had hit the floor. Man, I am in a mood tonight. PMS, maybe? She mentally calculated when her last period was. It probably wasn’t PMS, but who knows. Sometimes her cycle got all wonky if she exercised too much or was stressed out, and lord knows that Glory was enough to throw anyone off their game. She took a deep breath and tried to force herself to be calm, if only to spare the dishes.
 
She finished the dishes and went to sit on the couch. She found herself really wishing her mom was there. She was glad that her mom was well enough to travel out of town for a night. Joyce was off acquiring things for her gallery, and Buffy knew that she welcomed the trip as a sign that things were getting back to normal. Still, Buffy resented having to watch Dawn sometimes. She can be so whiny. It’s freaking annoying. She found she was getting unreasonably angry again and she fought it back. I probably shouldn’t operate any pointy machinery tonight. It occurred to her out of nowhere that she almost wished some of those annoying Initiative guys were around – they would be perfect for working out aggressions on. Yeah, like Forrest. Ooh it would be so much fun to pound him a few more times. I’d haul him back from the grave just to have the pleasure of beating on that creep again.
 
Buffy shook herself for a moment. She really was getting all super-Slayer over nothing. She got up and went upstairs to get ready for bed. She ground her teeth when she saw that Dawn had left toothpaste all over the bathroom sink again. Then once again she forced herself to take a deep breath. Relax! What am I getting so tense about tonight? Gotta cut down on the caffeine or something. She finished cleaning up, and got into bed. Her muscles were bunched and tense for a long time, but at last, she fell asleep.

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Buffy woke up around nine the next morning to the sound of the phone ringing. “Who the fuck calls at this hour on a Saturday?” she grumbled aloud. She grabbed the phone and barked, “What??” into the receiver.
 
“Buffy? Is that you?” It was Joyce.
 
“Oh, hi Mom,” Buffy said sheepishly.
 
“Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Joyce asked. Joyce was a bit surprised – usually Dawn was the extra-cranky child in the morning.
 
“Sorry about that, I guess I was still pretty deeply asleep and I was startled,” Buffy said.
 
“Well, I just wanted to check up on you,” said Joyce. “I’ll be home around five or six o’clock. Can you do something for dinner?”
 
Fine. Don’t ask Dawn to get off her ass or anything. To her mom she said, “Sure. Is pasta ok?”
 
“That’s fine, honey. See you later. Tell Dawn to remember that her History project is due Monday.”
 
“Ok, Mom. Love you,” Buffy replied.
 
“Love you too,” said Joyce as she hung up. Joyce was mildly concerned – Buffy sounded a bit on edge this morning. I’ll see what’s going on when I get home.
 
Buffy hung up the phone and looked in on Dawn, who was still fast asleep. Not really wanting the company anyhow, Buffy went downstairs and made some breakfast. They were out of orange juice, and Buffy grumbled about having to make do with cranberry. Then she grumbled again about the lack of dishwasher. I need to work out or something. Too much tension today. She went out to the backyard and practiced flips, kicks, punches, and other martial arts moves in the air for about an hour, which helped calm her down somewhat. At around eleven o’clock she went inside, expecting to find Dawn munching cereal, but she wasn’t downstairs.
 
Buffy bounded upstairs to find Dawn still in bed. ”Dawn! Are you ever getting up today?” she asked, hands on her hips.
 
“Go away,” mumbled Dawn, who rolled over and put her head under her pillow.
 
“Mom said to remind you about your History project. Have you started it yet?”
 
Dawn groaned. She had gotten books about World War I out of the library last weekend, but hadn’t really done much more than take a few preliminary notes. She had until Monday to write a five page paper from the point of view of a soldier in the trenches. The thought did not spur her to leap out of bed. “I’ll start it later. It’s not due until Monday.”
 
“Um, it’s like, almost noon on Saturday? Do the math?” Buffy said.
 
“Ok, ok,” said Dawn from under the pillow. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
 
Buffy threw her hands up in irritation and went to take a shower. She relaxed under the hot shower and tried to remember what else she should be doing today. Need to call Giles. Need to see if Willow found out anything else. She reached for the bottle of her favorite vanilla scented shampoo, only to find that it was nearly empty. “Dammit!” she yelled. She threw the bottle at the wall as hard as she could. I fucking hate it when Dawn uses the last godamn drop of MY shampoo without even bothering to fucking TELL ME that she used it. Bitch. She grabbed the shampoo that her mom used, washed her hair, rinsed off, and stepped out. She was so angry that when she grabbed the towel, she did it with such force that the towel bar ripped clean out of the wall along with it. “The hell?” she yelled. Snarling, she threw the bar on the ground and dried off. Better get Xander to fix that sometime or Mom’s gonna have kittens.
 
When she was dressed, she went back across the hall to find Dawn still in bed. Buffy lost it. “Dawn Summers get your lazy ass out of bed right now!” she screamed. Dawn sat up, looking slightly scared. Buffy never swore at her like that. Never. Deciding that it was probably not prudent to piss off her supernaturally-powered sister, she reluctantly threw back the covers. “Alright already,” said Dawn grumpily. “I’m getting up. Don’t need to have a coronary.”
 
Buffy stomped out of the room, while Dawn shuffled off to the bathroom. She thought about changing out of her pajamas, but then decided that since she didn’t plan on going anywhere much, she might as well stay as is. Yawning, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. She grabbed two pop-tarts, thought about toasting them, then dismissed that as too much work and ate them cold. Buffy came up from the basement with a basket of laundry and looked at Dawn’s breakfast disdainfully. “Health food kick?” she asked derisively.
 
“Whatever,” Dawn grumbled. Buffy rolled her eyes and continued upstairs. She put the basket down and dialed Xander’s mobile phone.
 
“Greetings, Buffster,” Xander said when he heard her hello. “What can I do for you?”
 
Gah, his voice can be annoying sometimes. “Can you stop by on the way home from work? I accidentally pulled the towel rack off the wall and was wondering if you could fix it for us.”
 
“Don’t know your own strength?” Xander teased.
 
“Can you fix it or not?” Buffy barked. Didn’t ask for the comedy hour here.
 
“Um, sure Buffy, don’t get all bent out of shape,” Xander said, a little taken aback.
 
“Sorry, Xander, I’m just really on edge today.”
 
“No worries. I’ll stop by later.” With that, they said their goodbyes and hung up.
 
Dawn finished her breakfast and dragged her backpack over to the couch. She pulled out a notebook and a pen, and opened one of the library books. After about 3 minutes, she was bored. I didn’t realize how much work this was going to be. I thought we could just make stuff up. She sighed and turned on the TV. She leaned back and flipped channels for a while. She dismissed a documentary as too boring and a mystery as too much work to follow before settling on some nice, brainless cartoons. I’ll get started later. I’ll have plenty of time to get it done.
 
Buffy finished putting her laundry away and was in the process of returning the basket to the basement. She paused as she passed the living room. “Dawn? History project?” she barked.
 
“You’re not actually my mom, you know,” Dawn retorted, without actually moving or anything. Buffy huffed and stomped down to the basement, slamming the basket down on the washing machine with a bang. She stomped back upstairs and slammed the basement door, making Dawn jump. “Jeez, who peed in your Wheaties this morning?” Dawn remarked.
 
“Don’t be gross!” snapped Buffy. Then she paused and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I… I’m going to go out, for a while. I don’t know why I’m such a bitch today, but I need to go take a walk or something. Please get something done on your project, ok?”
 
“Ok,” replied Dawn in a less than enthusiastic voice. Buffy grabbed a jacket and left to head to the Magic Box training room.
 
Dawn clicked off the TV with a sigh. History was one of her favorite subjects, usually. Why am I having such a hard time getting started on this? She picked up the book again and tried her hardest to concentrate. She lasted a little longer this time – a whole ten minutes – before she once again put down the book and picked up the remote. She channel surfed until she found a station that was having a Bugs Bunny marathon. She put her feet up on the coffee table and giggled. I can just watch a couple and still get some work done before Buffy gets home.
 
Buffy had reached the Magic Box in record time, stalking through the streets of Sunnydale with her mouth set in a hard line. When she got there, Giles came out of his office and smiled in greeting. “Hello, Buffy. Something the matter?” he asked.
 
“No, I just feel all tense. Need to work out before I explode,” she responded, shedding her jacket and waving a cursory hello to Anya on the way to the training room. She put her gloves on and stretched as Giles made his way in.
 
“Anything you want to work on?” he asked, wondering if anything in particular was bothering his Slayer.
 
“Not really,” said Buffy, wishing Giles would just shut up and let her work out. She began hitting the heavy bag, starting with simple jabs and crosses. Giles watched approvingly as she moved with lightning speed, the bag rocking with the force of her blows. After a while, Giles started to get a bit concerned when her blows came harder and faster, showing no signs of letting up or stopping. A few stitches started popping on the seams of the punching bag as Buffy pounded it still harder.
 
“Buffy,” began Giles, carefully. “Are you sure nothing has upset you or anything?”
 
“For the last time, Giles,” growled Buffy. “I’m fine!” With that, Buffy reared back and kicked the punching bag so hard that the chain pulled clear out of the ceiling. The bag sailed across the room to crash into the couch, stuffing oozing from the seams. She paused, gasping for breath. “Oops,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed about overdoing it. She did admit that she felt much less aggravated after having worked out. Anya popped her head in, observed the destruction with wide eyes, then retreated back to the counter.
 
“Yes, well, I think you’d best take a break for now,” said Giles somewhat nervously, polishing his glasses and surveying the wreckage. “At least until we tidy up a bit?”
 
“Sorry about that, Giles,” Buffy apologized. “I can help clean up.”
 
“No, that’s all right,” said Giles. “I think we were due for a new punching bag anyhow. We’ll… deal with this later, shall we?” After we figure out what in the name of heaven has gotten into you.
 
“Ok. I guess I should get back to Dawn anyhow. She is being a total slug today.”
 
“Will you be patrolling as usual tonight?” asked Giles.
 
“Yeah. I could use a good slay. See you later,” Buffy answered as she left for home. Giles wiped his brow and gazed once more at the murdered punching bag. I’ll have to ask Joyce if she knows what’s bothering Buffy, he thought as he fetched the broom and began sweeping up fallen plaster from the ceiling.
 
When Dawn heard Buffy’s key in the lock, she quickly turned off the TV. She realized guiltily that her ‘few cartoons’ had turned into an hour of vegetation. It was going on three o’clock, and she had spent less than fifteen minutes on her homework. She pulled the books and notebooks onto her lap to make it look like she had been working the whole time. “How’s it coming?” Buffy asked, sticking her head into the living room.
 
OK,” Dawn lied. “I’ve made some notes and started an outline.” If opening the notebook to a blank page constitutes starting an outline, that is.
 
“Mom said she’ll be home around 5, so I’ll be making dinner for then,” Buffy said. She was about to go upstairs when Dawn spoke up saying, “Hey, can you please get me a soda?” Dawn was really thirsty, but didn’t feel like getting up for any reason.
 
Buffy felt her irritation rising once again, but bit her lip to prevent herself from lashing out. With clenched fists she walked to the fridge, grabbed a can of the first soda she saw, and returned to the living room. “Would Madam like anything else?” she said through clenched teeth.
 
“No, thanks,” said Dawn, stifling a yawn. Buffy counted to ten about 15 times as she made her way upstairs and changed out of her workout clothes. That girl hasn’t budged off that couch since I left. If she’s done anything at all on that project I’ll eat one of my stakes. Just as she finished changing, the doorbell rang.
 
“Buffy? Could you get that?” Dawn pleaded. “I’m still in my pajamas.”
 
“Yeah, I got it,” replied Buffy, mentally adding you lazy sack. Buffy found Xander at the door with his toolbox. “You had something that needed fixing?”
 
“Hey, Xander, thanks for coming. Upstairs – towel bar in the big bathroom.” She led Xander upstairs and showed him the damage.
 
“Did the towel bar do anything in particular to offend you?” Xander asked as he got out the right tools and some tile cement. I’d give anything to be half as strong as Buffy. It’s not fair for someone her size to be so strong, he thought.
 
Buffy wasn’t really in the mood for Xander’s stupid jokes today, but she bit back her initial snarky response and said, “Just yanked to too hard I guess.”
 
“Well, I think it can be saved,” he said as he went to work. Within about fifteen minutes the towel bar was back in place. “Just make sure you don’t hang anything on it until tomorrow morning, so the adhesive has time to set, ok?”
 
“Thanks, Xander. I appreciate it.”
 
“You’re welcome,” Xander replied. How come you never see me as anything more than a repair guy, Buffy? I could be just as useful as Willow if you let me. Xander packed up his tools, wondering for the millionth time why he seemed destined to be overlooked by everyone.
 
Buffy showed Xander out and thanked him again for the repair job. She looked at her sister, who was listlessly flipping pages in her history book.”You are not seriously going to come to dinner in your pajamas are you?” she asked. “Are you sick or something?”
 
“No, I just didn’t really see the point of changing if I wasn’t going anywhere,” Dawn responded. Buffy stood there with her hands on her hips staring pointedly. “Ok,” sighed Dawn at last. “I’ll go get dressed if it will get you off my back.”
 
“Try it. Just might work,” snapped Buffy before she turned to go start dinner.
 
Dawn left her books and papers scattered on the couch and headed upstairs. She decided that a long bubble bath would be just the thing – she had a crick in her neck from being on the couch all day. Before long the tub was brimming with fragrant bubbles and she slid into the tub, sighing in contentment. Ahhh. Wonder how long these bubbles will last? I could stay in here all day. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the scented steam.
 
Buffy started the water for the pasta and made a salad. Her mom sometimes added little touches to the store bought pasta sauce to liven it up a bit, but Buffy’s cooking prowess didn’t extend that far. She heard the water turn off, and assumed Dawn would come down soon after. When 15 minutes passed and Dawn was still in the bathroom, Buffy realized that her sister must be in the bath. Didn’t we have enough lying around today? She rolled her eyes and continued getting dinner together. She was just draining the pasta when her mom came home.
 
“Hi mom,” Buffy said, bringing the drained pasta to the table.
 
“Hi, sweetheart,” said Joyce fondly as she hung up her coat. “Where’s your sister?”
 
Buffy sighed, “She’s in the tub, where she’s been for about a half hour now, after sleeping until noon and parking herself on the couch all day.”
 
“Hmm. Well, I’ll go tell her dinner is ready,” said Joyce. Buffy seemed unusually irritated with Dawn tonight. But Dawn could be a bit of a, well, a teenager sometimes. Joyce climbed the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door. “Dawnie? Are you coming out? Dinner’s ready.”
 
“Oh, hi mom!” came Dawn’s voice from behind the door. “I’ll be down in a minute. I’m just rinsing off.” Truthfully, she had only opened her eyes at her mother’s knock. But she would rinse off in a minute. Or two.
 
Joyce returned to the kitchen, where Buffy had laid the table and a simple but delicious spaghetti dinner was waiting. “Nicely done, honey,” said Joyce, sitting down. “How was your day today?”
 
“Ok, I guess,” said Buffy between mouthfuls. “Just feeling grouchy all day. “
 
“Anything in particular?” Joyce asked. Buffy didn’t really speak of her failed relationship with Riley much. Joyce wondered if that was still eating at her.
 
“Not really,” Buffy shrugged.
 
“Are you still upset about Riley?” Joyce asked quietly.
 
Buffy slammed her drink down loudly. “Why does everyone keep bringing him up? He left me! It sucked! I don’t need to keep rehashing it!” she shouted.
 
Joyce’s eyes widened. “Now you calm down, Buffy Anne Summers,” Joyce said sternly. “I just asked, and I don’t appreciate being shouted at.”
 
“Sorry, mom,” Buffy mumbled, ashamed at her outburst. “Just really tired of hearing his name.”
 
They ate in silence for a while. Buffy finished and cleared her plate, at which point Joyce realized that Dawn still hadn’t come down. “Dawn!” she called upstairs. “Your dinner is getting cold!”
 
“Just a minute,” Dawn called back, still deep in bubbles.
 
“She’s been like this all day. It’s maddening!” cried Buffy. She needed to get out of there. The sun had finally gone down, and the streetlights had come on outside. “I’m going to go patrol,” she announced. She grabbed her coat and a couple of stakes and bent to tie her sneakers.
 
“Be careful honey,” said her mom. Buffy kissed her cheek and then all but sprinted out the door. Joyce shook her head. She had no idea what had gotten into her daughters today. Must be a full moon or something, she thought as she headed upstairs to determine if Dawn was permanently glued to the bathtub.
 
Buffy stalked around Sunnydale on the warpath. She found two fledglings in the first cemetery, and was almost disappointed at how fast they dusted. She kept patrolling, getting aggravated at the lack of activity. Come on, you lazy ass demons. I’m in a mood to kill and you had better not take the night off. Finally, in the third cemetery, she heard a bunch of voices from one of the larger crypts. Peering in through the partially open door, she saw seven vampires gathered, sharing war stories. Grinning ear to ear, she kicked the door open. “Party’s over, boys,” she said cheerily. She pulled out a stake for each hand and laughed maniacally as blood and dust began to fill the air.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the characters are Joss Whedon’s.
 
Author’s Note: Spuffiness will occur, but we have a bit of a journey to take to get there…
 
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Chapter 2: Of Greed and Envy
 
Saturday morning was usually a day for Xander and Anya to sleep in, and for them to ‘start their weekend off with an orgasm’ as she put it. But today, both of them were up early. Xander’s boss had offered the guys overtime to make up some lost time on a big project, and he always felt he needed the money. Unlike Willow, I don’t have rich parents who pay all my bills, Xander grumbled to himself as he hauled himself out of bed.
 
Anya, on her part, has been lying awake for at least a half an hour before the alarm went off. Her brain had been racing with facts and figures, wondering how she and Xander could increase their savings. I need to make sure he always takes lunch, so he doesn’t have to buy it. But not too much, or we’ll have to go shopping more. I’ll have to make him coffee too – that three dollars a day at the coffee truck is going to add up if we’re not careful! She rolled over as Xander got up, and watched him start toward the bathroom. “Xander, honey?” she said.
 
Xander turned back toward her, still sleepy. “Yeah, Ahn?”
 
“Make sure you don’t use too much hot water. That costs money, you know.”
 
“Um, okay…” replied Xander, slightly puzzled. He continued making his way blearily to the shower. Anya got up and packed Xander a healthy, if slightly skimpy, lunch and started the coffee. Her head was buzzing with all sorts of plans for the Magic Box. I wonder if we still have some of those books of curses in the basement. I know Giles wasn’t too keen on selling them to just anyone, but we could charge loads for those. And those Hands of Glory. I’m sure we could make a lot on those too – they’re perfect for making enemies miserable. Revenge always sells better. She heard the shower turn off and looked at the time. Xander had taken 15 minutes in the shower. She wondered if he could get it down to ten. She’d have to get a timer or something to keep him honest.
 
“I packed you a lunch and made you some coffee for your thermos,” she told him as he got dressed.
 
“Thanks, Anya,” he said, kissing her. He admired her backside appreciatively as she made her way to the shower. How does she keep so fit? I am always fighting the love handles, and she never seems to work out at all, but still keeps her figure. Totally unfair. He pulled his shirt over his head and made his way out to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. He felt vaguely dissatisfied as he looked around the apartment. It seemed so small, all of a sudden. Here he was, 21 years old, and all he had was this little apartment to show for it. His supervisor, now, that guy had it made. He was 25, had his own house already, was married, wife expecting their first kid. I’m never going to have all that. I don’t see that he’s any smarter or better at his job than me. It’s all just dumb luck. He scowled as he continued to attack his cereal. He finished just as Anya emerged, dressed and ready to go.
 
“Where are you going this early?” he asked? Anya usually worked later on Saturday by arrangement with Giles.
 
“I want to go in and see what sort of things might be sitting in the basement that we might have overlooked,” she explained. “We need to get rid of excess inventory if we want to boost our profits.”
 
“Anya, aren’t you getting a little carried away with your whole capitalism thing?” asked Xander. He was used to his girlfriend’s quirks, but she seemed like she was in profit overdrive this morning.
 
“I just think that the Magic Box isn’t performing up to its full potential,” she explained. “With just a little extra work, I feel like that store could be a gold mine.” I don’t know what he’s so concerned about. Shopkeepers are supposed to worry about their business, right?
 
“You do remember that it’s technically Giles’ store, right?” Xander said as he put on his coat.
 
“Yes, yes,” said Anya, getting her things together as well. “But I think my valuable ideas will show Giles that I could be a true partner in this business! And as a partner, I should be entitled to a bigger share of the profits!”
 
“Just… don’t go overboard, ok?” Xander asked, as they headed out the door.
 
“Ok, ok,” Anya responded. They headed down to Xander’s car. As Xander was getting in, he paused to look as a red Corvette driven by a smarmy looking tanned beach boy-type passed by. His eyes automatically tracked the sports car, practically drooling. “Um, Xander? Work?” said Anya from inside the car.
 
Xander tore his eyes away from the Corvette and got in. As he started the car, he muttered, “Why do guys like that always have cars like that? Do they do anything? Those rich frat boy types lie around on the beach and do jack shit all day, and somehow money just falls into their laps, while I build their stupid little condos and get paid squat, and drive this piece of junk.” He finished his tirade by pounding his fist into the door.
 
“Xander, this car is perfectly fine, and it’s only a couple of years old. Besides, you don’t even know that guy. He could be a doctor or something.”
 
“Oh, I know the type. My high school was full of them. Spoiled little rich kids with rich daddies who got them everything their heart desired.” Xander seethed with the memory of always being at the low end of the social totem pole at Sunnydale high. Would have been nice to have parents who weren’t drunken sots.
 
They had reached the Magic Box and Xander stopped to let Anya out. “Try not to let these things get to you, Xander,” said Anya. “And after I make my first million, I promise I’ll buy you a red Corvette of your very own.”
 
“Thanks,” said Xander, kissing her goodbye. Anya waved then strode purposefully into the store, unlocking it with her key. The store didn’t open until ten o’clock on Saturday, giving her an hour to see what she could do to improve things. She went down to the basement and found the box with the books of curses. 100 Curses for Daily Use. These will sell like hotcakes! She set the pricing gun to $50.00 and priced all ten copies, bringing them upstairs and arranging them on a shelf near the door. She went back to the basement to see what else there was. There were a large number of candles that happened to look a lot like the enchanted ones that had done so well yesterday. She priced them and put them upstairs, in and among the rest of the enchanted ones. Not sure if these are enchanted or what, but I’m sure no one will notice. Then she started looking around the store. She marked the price up on several talismans and magic gems, figuring that the people who really needed these things for their spells would be willing to pay for them.
 
She was still on her pricing binge when Giles came in at 9:45. He was surprised to see Anya there so early on a Saturday. “Anya? What are you doing here?” he asked.
 
“Oh, good morning, Giles,” said Anya, brightly. “I had some ideas for boosting our profitability, and I really wanted to come in and try them out.”
 
“I see,” said Giles, who didn’t actually see what she was getting at. He noticed the books of curses on the shelf and said, “Anya, aren’t these those books we decided not to put out?”
 
“I think we should reconsider that, Giles,” said Anya. “After all, they would be very popular.”
 
“Yes, but I thought we had discussed the fact that they could be dangerous in the wrong hands.” Giles said firmly.
 
Anya sighed. Giles was eating into all her juicy profits! She got the books off the shelf and grudgingly stacked them behind the counter. “I’ll take them back downstairs later on,” she said. If I don’t find a way to sell them first.
 
Giles frowned thoughtfully. It was always so hard to tell when Anya was acting oddly, since ‘normal’ for her was still pretty odd. But they had had a long discussion about these books a couple weeks prior. In fact it was Anya, with her vengeance demon background, who had suggested that some of these curses could be misused by vengeful types. So why was she so eager to sell them all of a sudden? And for fifty dollars each? They were hardly worth more than thirty.
 
“Giles?” Anya spoke up.
 
“Yes, Anya?”
 
“I was thinking – we could really diversify our product lines if we had more space. We could make a lot more money if we increased our book selection, for example.”
 
“And where do you propose we get this extra space from?” Giles wondered.
 
“Well, Buffy only uses the training room maybe four times a week. Does she really need that space?”
 
“Anya!” said Giles sharply. “The Slayer needs to continually train to stay ahead of the forces of darkness, and right now with Glory on the loose she needs to train more than ever. Do you honestly think that I would want to jeopardize her calling so we could make more money as a bookstore?”
 
Anya was taken aback. “I just think we need to consider the future. I mean, hell gods come and hell gods go, but we always need to eat and pay bills.”
 
Giles took off his glasses and pinched his nose. “Anya,” he said, trying to muster reserves of patience. “The store does quite well enough to pay all our bills. There’s no need for us to get greedy.”
 
Anya could see she was losing this particular battle. “Ok, Giles. Sorry if I got carried away.” She busied herself straightening up the counter while Giles went in the back office. A few minutes later the doorbell jingled as the first customer of the day came in. Anya brightened and said, “May I help you? We have some excellent deals on talismans today!”
 
*********************
 
Xander arrived at work, grabbed his lunch and his thermos of coffee, and joined his co-workers gathered in front of the site office. A couple of the guys greeted him, and they all stood around, drinking coffee and finishing donuts. Xander realized looking around that he was never going to be as strong as some of these guys. He looked at Dave, a six foot five tank with a shaved head, black skin, and muscles that were large enough to probably need their own apartment. I could work out every day for five hours and never get muscles that big. How does he do it?
 
Dave noticed Xander staring at him and said, “What’s up Harris? See something you like?” He mockingly put his hand on his hip and preened. The guys all laughed uproariously.
 
Xander faked a laugh to hide his complete embarrassment. “Just a case of the early morning stares. You just happened to be in the line of fire.”
 
“Well, ok, but your girlfriend may want to know that you’re shopping around,” Dave laughed. The others joined in, as did Xander, but he found his stomach turning sour with repressed jealousy. The other guys can joke about this stuff without even batting an eyelash. Why do I always feel like my face is beet red? If they knew half the shit I’ve seen with the Scoobies they’d wet their pants. That thought pleased him for a moment, but then another thought followed on its heels. Well, if they knew half the stuff Buffy has gone after. Face it Harris, you’ll always be a fifth wheel. Can’t fight, can’t cast spells, no good at research. All you can do is go for donuts.
 
“Hey Harris, are you with us this morning, or not?” barked Tom, his supervisor.
 
Xander realized that the morning meeting had started and he was off to the side, staring into space. He shook himself and sheepishly joined the crowd. A wag in the back said, “Better not put Harris on heavy machinery detail today.” Once again the crowd had a laugh at his expense.
 
“Ok, let’s get to work,” Tom said. He handed out assignments, and Xander found himself working on putting up drywall in the interior of the new condos. He started near the door, and went into his usual routine. But by the third piece of drywall, he found himself getting annoyed. He started complaining about it to Greg, who was working near him.
 
“Doesn’t this bother you?” he asked.
 
“Huh?” said Greg, who was a burly tanned type in charge of sealing the drywall seams after Xander put the panels up.
 
“This,” said Xander, pausing in his hammering. “We work in this heat, for low wages, putting up walls so that some developer can get rich selling condos to yuppie scum.” He started hammering again, harder than usual.
 
Greg responded, “What the hell, Harris? We get paid just fine. And who gives a ripe fuck what happens when we’re done? Not like you live in a cardboard box. Get over it.”
 
“I’m just saying,” Xander continued. “We’re going to put in marble sinks and cherry counters so some rich assholes can have their wine and cheese parties here. Pisses me off.” In irritation, he swung the hammer just a little too hard and missed, putting a hole in the drywall.
 
“What the fuck, Harris?” Tom, the supervisor, had chosen that moment to come up behind him. “Pay attention to what you’re doing! You need to take that sheet down and replace it. And if you waste any more of that it’s coming out of your paycheck.”
 
Xander mumbled an apology and started ripping down the wrecked drywall. He stole a glance at Tom as the supervisor conferred with another worker. Who do you think you are, you petty little dictator? I could be just as good a supervisor as you. Better, even. How did you manage to get the job? Isn’t your dad a friend of the owner or something? You didn’t do anything to deserve it. Xander seethed and swore under his breath as he yanked off the last of the drywall and started over.
 
Xander was on his break later when his cell phone rang. It was Buffy. “Greetings, Buffster,” Xander said as he heard her greeting. “What can I do for you?”
 
“Can you stop by on the way home from work? I accidentally pulled the towel rack off the wall and was wondering if you could fix it for us.”
 
“Don’t know your own strength?” Xander teased. Typical. Only needs me for brute force caveman stuff. Just once it would be nice to contribute something real.
 
“Can you fix it or not?”
 
Buffy sounded pissed off. “Um, sure Buffy, don’t get all bent out of shape,” Xander replied. Well I guess if you have supernatural powers you get to order everyone around. Must be nice.
 
“Sorry, Xander, I’m just really on edge today.”
 
“No worries. I’ll stop by later.” He hung up and called Anya.
 
“Magic Box, where today we’ve got tons of bargains for you!” came Anya’s chipper voice through the phone.
 
“Hey Ahn, it’s me,” he said. “I gotta stop at Buffy’s and fix something after work, but then I’ll come pick you up.”
 
“Maybe you should start charging her for all these repairs. It seems like something is always broken around her place. You could probably do pretty well just with Slayer related repairs alone.”
 
“Anya, she’s my best friend. I can’t charge my friend to help her out.” Xander replied. Sometimes he wished that Anya had never discovered the concept of capitalism.
 
“Well, fine, but I can only raise prices so much around here, so you’d better think of ways to maximize your take home pay somehow if we’re ever going to get that house.”
 
“Oookay then,” said Xander. He noticed that his supervisor was pointing at his watch, indicating that break time was over. “I have to go Anya. See you later.”
 
“Harris, do you intend to do any actual work today?” Tom snapped.
 
“Coming,” Xander said, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his tool belt. “Just had to touch base with Anya about something.”
 
“She’s got you whipped, eh Harris?” laughed Tom.
 
Xander gave a tight lipped smile and got back to work. Tom’s wife was a nice, normal brunette, all around American wife and soon-to-be mother. Xander remembered the barbecue at Tom’s house a couple months back. His wife had been so normal. So self assured, chatting pleasantly with her guests about this and that. He had to spend the whole time covering for Anya’s odd statements, or shushing her, or whispering instructions on how to behave. It was bad enough when he was with the Scoobies, but at least they were used to Anya’s weird behavior. But in social situations in the real world, Anya stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe he’d be happier if he had a nice normal girlfriend instead of a former demon…
 
Xander shook himself. What the hell am I thinking? I love Anya. What the hell was that all about? He hefted another sheet of drywall, and tried his best to clear his mind and focus on the work at hand.
 
***************************
 
Anya was feeling pretty pleased with herself. She had already done much better for a Saturday morning than Giles usually did. She was practically pouncing on customers, and she had cleverly steered several of them toward the items she had marked up. She had even sold several of the hopefully-enchanted-but-not-quite-sure candles.
 
In the early afternoon, Buffy came striding in. Giles came out from the office to greet her and follow her into the training room. As they went into the back, a customer came in. She was a thin, black haired, goth-looking type in a leather jacket. “Can I help you?” asked Anya brightly.
 
“Yeah,” answered the girl in a surly manner. “My asshole boyfriend cheated on me and I want to get back at him. Do you have any books with ideas on how to curse his sorry cheating ass?”
 
Anya looked over at the training room, and saw that Giles was occupied. “Keep your voice down,” she said conspiratorially to the customer. She bent down and got one of the books of curses from behind the counter. “I’m not really supposed to sell these, but they should be pretty useful for what you want. Fifty dollars.”
 
“Sold!” said the girl, handing over her credit card. She started flipping through the book with interest. “Oh yeah. Perfect. The bastard will wish he was never born when I get through with him.”
 
Anya rang up the sale, and watched as the girl signed the slip. “Take care now. And try not to do too many at once – might mess things up a bit.”
 
“Right. Thanks,” said the girl as she left, plotting revenge.
 
Suddenly, there was a huge bang from the training room. Alarmed, Anya poked her head in the door, to see a small rain of plaster dust coming down from where the punching bag used to hang. “Oops,” said the Slayer. Anya quickly returned to the cash register. A thousand years of being a demon made her still a little leery of tangling with a Slayer in a bad mood. I sure hope Giles doesn’t expect to pay for that out of my profits. I mean our profits, she added, slightly ashamed. She really did need to remember that it was technically Giles’ store.
 
Buffy left a few minutes later, and Giles came out, polishing his glasses. “Buffy seems a bit… agitated today. Did anything happen last night?”
 
Anya frowned and shook her head. “No. We did some research and ordered pizza. Nothing unusual at all.”
 
“Hmm,” said Giles thoughtfully. “At any rate, how are things going today? Sorry to have left you out here to manage everything by yourself. I just wanted to get caught up on some of the bills.”
 
“I’ve been making lots of sales,” bubbled Anya. “I raised the prices on some of the talismans but then put a sign next to them that said ‘Sale’ and people snapped them up!”
 
“Um, quite,” Giles responded. “However, in the future, I would appreciate it if you discussed these things with me first. I don’t want to drive away our regular customers by raising the prices too much.”
 
“I just think this place could really be a gold mine if we put just a little more thought into managing our inventory,” Anya stated. “I mean, think about it. We’re the only magic shop in a town with a hellmouth! There’s got to be tons of pent up need for magical protection and stuff like that. With better advertising, we could really increase our clientele!”
 
“Anya!” Giles cut in. “I appreciate what you say, but you know as well as I that some magic is very dangerous to the unschooled. We can’t just start marketing magical fixes to every Tom, Dick, and Harry off the street. The consequences could be unimaginable!”
 
“Okay, okay, I get it,” pouted Anya. She grabbed a duster and started cleaning the displays, trying to rearrange things so that they looked more appealing. Maybe we could have an ‘anti-Valentine’s’ sale for people who hate their exes. We could call it St. Vengeance Day. There’s always a market for Vengeance. She sighed – sometimes she missed that life. She loved Xander, but there was a certain satisfaction in having some guy who richly deserved it develop boils on his penis on your say-so. But it really didn’t pay much, now that I think about it.
 
Giles had taken a few books back into his office, still working diligently on the Glory problem in every spare moment. Anya spent the remaining hour or so waiting on a few scattered customers. She managed to surreptitiously sell another book of curses to a rather cranky old lady who had ‘noisy college kids’ living next to her. She had complained about the price, but Anya held firm, and in the end the woman’s desire to curse her neighbors won out over her desire to pay less for the privilege. At last, five o’clock came and Giles flipped the ‘closed’ sign. Anya would have cheerfully stayed open another hour or so, but she decided that she shouldn’t push Giles too far, too soon. He’d have to be eased into the idea of actually making some real money off this place.
 
Xander came in while Anya was sweeping the floor. “Hey, babe,” he said, kissing her.
 
“Hi, honey,” she replied. “How was your day?”
 
“Ok, I guess,” muttered Xander. “Getting tired of Tom and Dave and their superior attitude.”
 
Anya looked at him quizzically. Xander generally got along fine with his co-workers. “I thought you liked those guys?”
 
“I dunno. Just having a crappy day, I guess,” he said, shrugging. "But at least I fixed Buffy's towel rack, so I'm still good for something."
 
Anya was too excited to notice Xander's glum tone. “Well, I made tons of sales today. The store had one of its best days ever. If we keep this up, we’ll be rolling in dough before long.”
 
Yippee for you, thought Xander, annoyed at Anya's easy success. “Are you ready to go?”
 
Anya really wanted to stay and price some more things, but she recognized the impatience in Xander’s voice. “Ok, let me get my purse. Bye Giles!” she called out.
 
“Will you be in tomorrow?” asked Giles. They were only open noon until five on Sunday, and often Anya didn’t come in, which suited Giles just fine. Anya could wear on one’s nerves sometimes.
 
“Oh, definitely!” said Anya. “I want to see if there are any more things in the basement we’ve been overlooking.”
 
“Quite,” said Giles doubtfully. “I guess I’ll see you then.” Xander and Anya waved and left. Giles frowned to himself. I should probably get here a little early tomorrow. Not sure what she’s on about, but it bears watching. He checked over the receipts Anya had totaled. His eyes widened a bit – she had had an amazing day in terms of sales. But then he noticed that the stack of books that they had removed from the shelves seemed slightly shorter. I told her not to sell those! What was she thinking? He leaned against the counter, polishing his glasses and wondering what could possibly be going on.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon and all his buddies.
Thanks again to all the reviewers who spur me onward!
 
****************************
 
Chapter 3: Of Pride and Gluttony
 
Willow and Tara had returned to their room that night, both lost in their own thoughts. Tara found herself losing her battle of wills with the chocolate muffins. She had finished one on the way home, and now was sitting cross legged on her bed eating a second one. She practically groaned at the flavor. “Willow, seriously, you have got to have one of these. They are pure chocolate happiness.”
 
Willow boggled a little at how Tara could be eating another of those enormous muffins. “Did Xander hog all the pizza again tonight?” she teased.
 
“Not really. I’m just having a major chocolate craving, that’s all,” said Tara. Although now that Willow mentioned it, she had eaten plenty at dinner. Must be recovering from that cold I had last week or something. She shrugged inwardly and continued her love affair with the muffin.
 
Willow had flopped on her bed and opened a spellbook. “There has to be some way of figuring out if Glory is still in town or not. I wonder what would happen if you modified a standard locator spell. She doesn’t seem to show up on standard ones because she’s not a mortal being.”
 
Tara frowned a bit. “Maybe you shouldn’t be altering spells too much,” she said as gently as she could. “Some of these things are pretty delicate, and the goddess alone knows what would happen if you changed things.”
 
“Yeah, but a locator spell is nothing,” Willow replied. She couldn’t believe Tara would worry about a little spell like that. “In fact, I’m going to try it.”
 
“Are you sure?” Tara said doubtfully.
 
“Piece of cake!” chirped Willow. Cake, thought Tara. I could go for a carrot cake right about now.
 
Willow got out a map of Sunnydale and a few other odds and ends. Because she was looking for a hellgod, she took a few lines from a different chant meant to summon demons. Tara raised her eyebrows and said, “I dunno, Willow. That looks d…dangerous.”
 
“Tara, relax! I’ve got this,” said Willow confidently. She lit the candles around the map and scattered some herbs. She began chanting in some bastardized Latin, and the map began to glow. A small spark of light flew over the map, circling, spiraling inward. Then suddenly with a flash it landed on the map, which promptly burst into flame.
 
Willow shrieked and jumped back, grabbing for a blanket. Quickly she threw it over the flaming map and smothered the blaze while Tara opened the window, gasping for air. Both girls coughed as acrid smoke filled their lungs. Tara muttered a quick spell to produce a gentle breeze to blow the smoke from the room before it set off the fire alarms and sprinklers. Willow picked up the blanket to find that the burning map had made a black rectangle on the carpet. “That could have gone better,” she sighed.
 
“Are… are you okay?” coughed Tara.
 
“Yes, I’m fine. I must be tired or something. There’s no reason why that shouldn’t have worked.” Willow just couldn’t understand how that could have gone wrong. My powers are stronger than that. Must be the late hour. I’ll have to do it again when I’m fully awake. Shouldn’t be a problem in the morning.
 
“Maybe we should go to bed, ok baby?” said Tara.
 
“Sure. Let me just clean up this mess,” said Willow. She uttered a spell and the burnt map vanished, the window closed, and the blackened carpet was restored. See, no problem.
 
Tara always felt a little uncomfortable when Willow used magic so casually, but said nothing as she climbed into bed. Willow snuggled next to her, kissed her goodnight, and both of them drifted off to sleep.
 
*******************
 
Tara woke around three in the morning, and found herself unable to fall back to sleep. She quietly got out of bed without disturbing Willow, and moved over to the desk, turning on a small reading lamp. She had originally gotten up to read or something, but the bag of muffins was sitting there, calling her name. One more wouldn’t hurt. Besides, Willow can have the other three. She quietly took out one of the big muffins and started eating, looking over her psych notes in the mean time. Then, without even realizing it, she started on a second muffin, still reading her notes, completely absorbed. She reached into the bag again, and started on a third muffin. Half way through she became aware of what she was doing. There had been six giant muffins in there, and now there was one left, and her stomach was starting to ache slightly. Pig out much? I used to have more self control than this. I’m not even hungry! But even as she thought this, the last of the muffin in her hand found its way to her mouth.
 
Standing up, she wrapped up the one remaining muffin and put it on top of their fridge, the better to resist eating it. She turned off the light and got back in bed next to Willow, burping quietly and rubbing her very full stomach. I’m going to have to start a diet tomorrow I think. Rolling over, she put an arm around Willow and went back to sleep.
 
*************
 
Willow woke the next morning and rolled over, smiling at Tara. Tara’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled back, leaning over for a long good morning kiss. “How did you sleep?” Willow asked, stroking Tara’s long hair.
 
“Ok, I guess,” said Tara. “Had a major case of the midnight munchies though. I managed to save one of the muffins for you.”
 
“I guess I’d better get up and eat it before it vanishes,” Willow grinned. They both got up then. Their room didn’t have much space for appliances, but they had a mini-fridge and a coffee maker. Tara started the coffee, while Willow went out to the rest room. Willow returned to find Tara sneaking a corner off of the remaining muffin. “I saw that,” she joked.
 
Tara started guiltily. She really hadn’t meant to hog them all, but they were sooooo good. “I think I had enough anyhow. I should have some fruit or something healthy.” Tara found a full bag of grapes in their fridge and sat down with them while Willow enjoyed her muffin. “So, what is the Saturday agenda?” Tara asked as the grapes steadily disappeared.
 
“I want to do more research into spells to locate Glory,” Willow began. “But I really need to write that paper for my philosophy class, since it’s due Monday.” Willow frowned. Schoolwork could be such a chore sometimes.
 
“I have to study for my psychology exam on Tuesday, so I suppose we could be study buddies this morning,” said Tara, realizing that she was at the bottom of the bag of grapes. She looked, and realized she had eaten every single one, without pause, and without really noticing. She casually crumpled up the bag, hoping Willow wouldn’t notice.
 
Willow, however, had been opening her laptop and getting out her philosophy books. “Study buddies it is,” she said as she settled down at the desk. Tara opened her notes and her text and started studying on the bed.
 
After a little while, both women found themselves distracted. Tara couldn’t stop thinking about food. The grapes were ok, but maybe I should get something a little more substantial from the cafeteria. Willow found her thoughts running to magic. There has got to be a way to use a spell to make this paper go faster. This is going to take all day, and I’ve got more important things to do. Still, Willow felt a little guilty about using magic to enhance her schoolwork, as if that was cheating somehow.
 
After a few more minutes, Tara found she could resist no longer. She grabbed her wallet and said, “I’m going to run down for a bagel or something. Can I get you anything?”
 
“No, that muffin was enough for me,” said Willow. “Are you feeling ok? You seem awfully hungry today.”
 
“I feel fine. Must just be PMS munchies or something,” Tara said, shrugging her shoulders.
 
“Well, hurry back!” said Willow brightly. Tara smiled and went down to the cafeteria. She had fully intended to get a bagel and go back upstairs. But then she noticed the special – waffles. I loooove waffles, she thought. She grabbed a tray and got a waffle with whipped cream and strawberries. She added orange juice, some yogurt, a fruit cup, and at the last moment, a sticky cinnamon bun. The cashier’s eyes widened a bit, but she said nothing as she rang up the tray full of food. Tara took her tray over to a table by the window and dug in. Oh man, is this good.
 
The moment Tara left, Willow dug out a spell book that she had gotten a while back. Giles had vaguely disapproved, as some of the spells were on the edge of black magic. But there was an extremely useful spell for extracting information from a book that seemed just the thing. I’m still reading the books, she rationalized, and I’m still coming up with the thoughts. It’s just like speed reading! She reread the spell and then opened her philosophy books, spreading her hands across the pages. She closed her eyes and chanted as the words seemed to flow off the pages and into her fingers. Her mind was flooded with words, images, and ideas as the contents of the books were downloaded directly into her brain. After a few minutes she opened her eyes and gasped. Wow. That was intense. She felt a little dizzy, but when she caught her breath she realized that it was all there, in her mind. Everything she needed to know for her philosophy paper was right there.
 
Willow looked down and noticed with some shock that the books were now blank. It was if the words had been completely erased from the pages and implanted into her mind. She guiltily closed the books, and put them in the bottom of her desk drawer. Tara really doesn’t need to see that. It’s only going to worry her. Willow then turned back to her computer to start writing.
 
She was a very fast typist, having been a computer geek for most of her life. But she found herself growing impatient with how long it was taking. Buoyed by her recent success, she tried another spell – one meant to allow a person’s mind to control a device. Her eyes went wide and unfocused as she placed her hands on the keyboard and they seemed to somehow merge with it. She formed sentences in her mind and was pleased to find them appearing immediately on the screen. Way better than typing! she thought excitedly. She found it took very little effort to keep up the spell, and the thoughts were forming on the screen almost as fast as she could think them. She felt a rush through her whole body as the magic flowed through her, like adrenaline or something. She couldn’t wait to show this trick to Tara. Where is Tara anyway? she wondered. Oops. Delete that last thought! She smiled as the words ‘Where is Tara anyway?’ vanished and the sentences of her philosophy paper started flowing again.
 
By the time Tara came back an hour later, Willow was halfway done with her philosophy paper. “Hey, Tara, where’ve you been?” Willow asked without pausing in her magically enhanced writing.
 
“I…um… ran into someone from class and was chatting,” Tara lied. Truth be told she had finished the whole tray of food, and had felt a bit sick afterward. She had gone to the drug store for some antacid, and had ended up grabbing a bag of chips to munch on as she walked back home. She popped another antacid tablet into her mouth now, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
 
“Well, I decided to do this spell to enhance the laptop, and it works great!” Willow chirped. Tara came and looked over Willow’s shoulder. Her eyes widened as she saw the words of Willow’s paper appearing on the screen without Willow visibly moving her fingers.
 
“That’s… pretty impressive,” Tara said uneasily. “But shouldn’t you be saving the magic for really important stuff, sweetie?”
 
“This is so I can have more time for the important stuff,” Willow explained. “Besides, it’s hardly tiring at all, and it will get this all done so much faster!”
 
Tara frowned slightly, but said nothing. She really didn’t feel like starting a fight with Willow right now. She finished the water and went back into the fridge for another. She looked over the contents of the fridge – some leftover Chinese of unknown age, some apples, a few yogurts, some cheese and some jelly. She grabbed an apple along with her water, and sat down to study some more.
 
Around noon, Willow sat back and removed her hands from her keyboard. Her head ached a bit from the continued magic, but she smiled. Her paper was done, proofread, and seemed like pretty decent work, and it had taken her probably half the time it would have without the magic. She stretched and stood up, turning to look at Tara, who was still studying, but was now surrounded by a half a dozen apple cores.
 
“I know an apple a day keeps the doctor away, but I think all the doctors are probably all in Venezuela by now,” quipped Willow. She suddenly felt a little dizzy and leaned against the wall for a moment to steady herself.
 
Tara jumped up, concerned. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
 
“Nothing, just a little dizzy, that’s all. I haven’t eaten anything all day since that muffin, must be low blood sugar.”
 
“Are you sure it wasn’t the spell? You were using it for a long time, and that can be pretty draining,” said Tara.
 
Willow shook her head. “No. I’d know the difference. The spell was nothing.” Willow straightened up and smiled, trying to put Tara at ease. “I could use some lunch though.”
 
“I’ll come with you,” said Tara, whose mouth had started watering again at the mention of lunch. “I’m getting sick of psychology at this point anyhow.”
 
“Do you want to try that new Mexican place?” asked Willow.
 
“Sure!” said Tara. The restaurant in question was about a five minute walk from the dorm, and soon they were sitting in a booth munching on tortilla chips. Mmm. These are really good, Tara thought as she steadily downed chips without pause.
 
“Where are we on the whole Glory thing, do you think?” asked Willow. She snatched the last chip seconds before Tara finished the basket. “And do you think you could save me a chip or two?”
 
Tara’s eyes widened as she realized that she had eaten nearly all the chips. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me today! Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I was hogging them.”
 
“No worries, we can get another basket,” said Willow.
 
“Better not – I need to save room for the main course,” Tara replied, looking over the menu. When the waitress returned she ordered a double chimichanga platter with a side of guacamole. Willow ordered a more modest quesadilla plate. The waiter left, and they returned to their discussion.
 
“Glory is just such an unknown,” Tara began. “Really hard to even know where to start. I mean, Buffy can barely put a dent in her.”
 
“Maybe we need some sort of spell that could enhance Buffy’s powers even further,” Willow mused. “That way, she could at least defend herself better.”
 
“That sounds scary,” Tara said. “What if it backfired? Or what if she couldn’t control it and hurt someone she didn’t mean to? You could end up doing more harm than good.”
 
“But I’m a practiced witch, Tara! I know what I’m doing.” Willow couldn’t believe that Tara was doubting her this way.
 
“I know,” soothed Tara. “But the Slayer is already something mystical and out of the ordinary. A lot of spells are written assuming a normal human subject. Buffy is many things, but a normal human is not one of them.”
 
“But if this could help her, we should try it!”
 
“Willow, please, please promise me that you won’t do anything to Buffy without discussing it with her and Giles first,” pleaded Tara. “Promise me? Baby?”
 
Tara’s pleading eyes touched Willow. “Ok, I promise not to do any unauthorized spells on the Slayer. Besides, Giles would probably revoke my Magic Box privileges if I did.”
 
The food arrived at that point, and they dug in. Tara was amazed at how good it all tasted. She thought about all the other food she had eaten that day and debated taking half of this home for later. I’ve really got to quit binging today. But then she reasoned that it would probably taste better fresh than as a leftover, so she might as well eat it now rather than waste it.
 
Willow continued discussing magic while they ate. “There are just so many things I want to try,” she said as she started on her quesadilla. “It seems like there should be a bunch of ways that I could use magic to help the Scoobies.”
 
“Need to be careful, though,” Tara warned. “There are always consequences for the big stuff. There really isn’t any free lunch, you know.”
 
Willow refrained from rolling her eyes. “Do you ever wonder if you’re being overcautious, honey?” she said as gently as she could. “I mean, I know your family was a little weird about magic, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t use our talents.”
 
“I never said not to use your talents,” Tara replied. “Just… make sure you’ve thought it all the way through, that’s all. I think you’re an excellent witch. I just don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
 
“No one will get hurt, I promise you,” Willow said warmly, reaching across the table to take Tara’s hand. They locked eyes and smiled at each other. Then Willow happened to glance at Tara’s plate, which was nearly empty. “Was it good?” she asked, a bit incredulous. She couldn’t believe that Tara had eaten all that so quickly.
 
Tara picked up her fork to finish the last few bites. “It really was delicious,” she said. “We should come here more often, now that we know it’s good.”
 
They continued eating, letting the conversation lapse a bit while they did. Willow finally put her fork down with about a quarter of her quesadilla uneaten. “I’m stuffed,” she pronounced.
 
Tara hesitated, then said, “Can I have the rest then? Seems a shame to waste it.”
 
Willow shrugged, and Tara speared the remaining piece with her fork, downing it in 4 bites. She stifled another belch as Willow called for the check. “You’d better slow down today, hon,” said Willow. “You’re going to eat us out of house and home pretty soon.”
 
“I guess I am a little ravenous today,” Tara admitted. “Just keep your fingers away from my mouth and you should be fine.”
 
Willow chuckled, and fished out some cash for the bill. Tara dug some out of her wallet for the tip, and they both made their way out into the sunlight. When they got back to their dorm, Tara asked, “How are things coming on your paper?”
 
“I’m all finished!” Willow said proudly. “I just need to print it out and it’s all set.”
 
“Wow. That was quick,” Tara said. “I feel pretty confident in my psych as well. What should we do for the rest of the day?”
 
“Well, I really want to work on a few of these new spells,” said Willow, eagerly looking through the pile of spellbooks.
 
“Should we go to the Magic Box?” asked Tara.
 
Willow thought for a minute. “I think I want to work on it here for a while, so that I know what to ask Giles when we see him next.” Plus Giles is all paranoid and will just say no, because he doesn’t understand that I can handle this. I don’t need his permission anyway.
 
“I think I’m going to go for a walk for a while,” said Tara, changing into sneakers. “I really need to work off some of the extra calories I scarfed down today.”
 
“Do you want some company?” asked Willow. “I should probably get some exercise too.” But it would be ok if you said no because I really want to try some of these spells…
 
“Only if you really want to,” said Tara. She could tell when Willow really wanted to do something that didn’t involve Tara, but was being too kind to say so. Willow’s aura tended to change color a bit when that happened.
 
“Well, I guess I do sort of want to do some spell research,” Willow admitted.
 
Tara came over and kissed Willow deeply. “You just be careful. I need you in one piece with no smoking eyebrows or anything, ok?”
 
Willow put her arms around Tara and kissed her back. “When you come back, maybe we could do something… else,” she purred.
 
Tara laughed. “Then this is going to be the fastest walk on record!” With those tantalizing thoughts, they separated, and Tara left for her walk.
 
Willow flopped on the bed with her latest spell book. Some of the chants were really a pain, being written in ancient bastardized versions of various languages. She was fairly proficient in Latin, and was usually able to figure out most of the Romance languages. Even some of the demon tongues weren’t that bad, provided they were written clearly. But this book had some spells that probably required multiple heads to pronounce properly.
 
Willow blew the stray hairs off her forehead and contemplated. A translation spell! she thought suddenly. I just need a spell to translate the words I don’t know. Piece of cake! She went through her bookshelf until she found the right tome, flipped it open to a spell designed to ‘make clear that which is obscure in wording’. That sounded like exactly what she needed – the demon languages were pretty obscure. She looked through the list of ingredients and was pleased to find she had them all. She sat on the floor with the spellbook she needed translated open in front of her. She cast a circle of herbs around herself, and sprinkled some more on the book itself. “Make clear what is hidden, make known what is unknown,” she chanted. She felt the magic flow through her fingers and into the page. She watched excitedly as the words on the page shimmered, rearranged, and became perfectly understandable English text.
 
“Yes!” she exclaimed. I really don’t see why Giles and Tara are always so twitchy about my magic. I’m a natural it seems. She picked up the now translated spellbook and started looking through it to see what sort of spells it contained. There were spells for summoning various demons, spells for binding enemies, spells to render enemies unconscious, or inflicting various temporary afflictions on them. Most of the spells in the book seemed to require someone to inflict the spells on. Not something I can really do in a dorm. Bummer. She kept flipping through, hoping to find one new spell she could try.
 
She looked out the window and saw a squirrel scampering along the branches of a tree. Maybe just a little test… She concentrated her will on the squirrel, and muttered one of the translated spells, meant to freeze an enemy in place. “Like a stone or statue be,” she finished, as the power left her. The squirrel stopped, almost comically, with one paw in the air, on the edge of a tree limb. It was frozen there, unmoving. That is so cool! Imagine doing that to a vampire or a demon or something!
 
A group of girls came walking across the quad at that point, their path taking them beneath the tree that was the current focus of Willow’s attention. At the same time, there was a sudden gust of wind. It shook the tree, causing the frozen squirrel to drop, right onto the head of a long-haired brunette. Willow’s concentration was broken, and with it so was the spell. The squirrel came back to life, to find itself tangled in the co-ed’s hair. The girl screamed “Get it off me!” in utter panic as books and purse went flying. She shrieked again as the squirrel bit her hand, then finally disentangled itself and scampered away. “It bit me! Oh my god! What if it had rabies?” The girl’s friends tried to calm her down, picking up her things and leading her off in the direction of the campus health clinic.
 
Ooops. Willow pulled back quickly from the window, ashamed at what had just happened. I hope she’s ok. I didn’t expect that it would fall out of the tree. Sheepishly she closed the spell books and swept up the herbs. As she was doing this, she started to think about the spell in a different light. Ok, so I probably shouldn’t have done that spell in that particular way. But I did learn something important! These spells require continuous effort. They’re not just ‘set and forget’ type spells. Now that I know that, I should be able to do more of these in the future. This is really going to be a big help to the gang. She continued tidying up the room, patting herself mentally on the back for her newfound skills.
 
Tara had set off for her walk with good intentions. She briskly strode across campus, enjoying the sun and the wind in her hair. When she reached the end of campus nearest to town, the air brought the scent of coffee to her nose. The Espresso Pump was right up ahead, and the aroma was heavenly. Coffee is pretty low calorie, and it will give me energy for my walk. She went inside, fully intending to order a small black coffee. But when she got up to the counter the caramel frappuchino looked so inviting that she had to order one, along with a chocolate croissant. She paid for her purchases and continued on her walk, finishing the croissant and starting in on the frappuchino. Whoever invented this should get the Nobel prize, at the very least, she thought. The main shopping drag was proving to be a poor choice of walking location, she found. Every other storefront seemed to be selling food. A chocolate shop, a café, a pizza place – they all seemed to scream Tara’s name as she walked by. She walked faster, trying to block the concept of food out of her mind. You’ve had enough today, Tara Maclay, she told herself firmly.
 
She finally decided that she had to get off the main drag and back to campus before she found herself in a restaurant again. She retraced her steps, slowing down unconsciously in front of various good smelling stores, but forcing herself to continue onward. She reached a small plaza near an office complex and breathed a sigh of relief. But then she heard a little voice pipe up, “Would you like to buy some cookies?”
 
Tara turned. There was a table set up to the side of the plaza with four little uniformed girl scouts and their leader, behind a pile of boxes of cookies. The little girls grinned appealingly at Tara, and she found she couldn’t resist. “Of course I’d like to buy some,” she said warmly. “Tell me what kind you have.”
 
The little girls, excited to make a sale, chirped happily about the pros and cons of their various wares. Tara ended up leaving ten minutes later with a bag of six boxes of cookies of various varieties. Oh well, it was for a good cause, she reasoned.
 
She started heading back to campus, but found she could not resist opening one of the boxes, just for a taste. This box happened to be chocolate mint, and she nearly swooned at the first bite. Curse these little scouts and their evil temptations, she thought. But the thought didn’t prevent her from grabbing another, and another. By the time she reached the dorm, she found to her dismay that the entire box was empty. Groaning, she threw the box in the trash on the way into the building, and headed up to their room with the remaining boxes.
 
Willow had just finished cleaning up when Tara entered. “Hey, what did you get?”
 
“I was accosted by a horde of cute little girls in uniforms. To my knowledge, there is no defense against such an attack,” said Tara, bringing out the boxes and putting them on the desk.
 
“Attack of the little green cookie monsters,” Willow joked. “Sounds like a bad B-movie or something.”
 
Tara laughed and moved over to embrace Willow. They shared a long kiss, then paused for breath, smiling into each other’s eyes. “What did you do while I was out battling the girl scouts?” Tara asked.
 
Willow swallowed and paused for a moment, not sure how much to tell Tara. Finally she said, “I used a spell to translate that new book I got. I was able to freeze a squirrel in its tracks!”
 
“Well, I’m sure that will come in handy against attacks by demon squirrels,” Tara said. “Any side effects?”
 
“N…no,” said Willow, nibbling on Tara’s neck to hide the slight flush in her face. “But it does require constant concentration, or else the squirrel starts moving again.”
 
“Mental note, don’t distract Willow when she is defending me against raging squirrels,” Tara agreed. Coherent thoughts were being drowned out by what Willow was doing with her hands and her tongue.
 
“Remember our post-walk plans?” Willow purred. Tara felt so good under her hands. Besides, there were better things to discuss than the minor consequences of spells.
 
“Mmm,” Tara agreed, capturing Willow’s mouth with hers. They guided each other to the bed, and the rest of the afternoon passed rather pleasantly for both of them.
 
TBC

 Disclaimer: Spike belongs to Joss Whedon. Thanks for the vampire, Joss.
 
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Chapter 4: Of Lust
 
Your rosy breasts beneath my pale hands
Most beautiful hair in all the land
The heady fragrance of your quim…
 
Spike paused in his scribbling and thought for a moment. Something appropriate that rhymes with quim… He stared off into the distance for a minute, trying to come up with something. Then he reread what he wrote, growled at its inanity, and crumpled it up, hurling it at the wall, where it fell and joined a growing pile of similar balls of paper.
 
Spike had woken up around one o’clock, sporting a raging hard-on. He had relieved himself while standing under his makeshift shower, but it only seemed to partially dull his continued horniness. He had had his breakfast of pig’s blood, tidied up his room a bit, and then sat down with some whiskey, a pen and some paper and started writing erotic poetry. He had never really tried writing pornographic poetry, and this morning he felt inspired to give it a go. But now, a couple of hours on, he found he was as much of a bloody awful poet as ever.
 
He went upstairs to see if there was anything worth watching on TV. I’d bloody kill for the Playboy channel today. He flipped through the limited selection offered by a battered TV with no cable hookup, but found nothing even remotely worth watching. He turned it off again with a sigh. Sometimes being a vampire could be a drag. Here he was in California, with scantily clad women sunning themselves everywhere, and he was stuck inside until the sun went down and they covered most of it back up. Bloody unfair, that is. And back when I could go out in the sunlight, nothing but corsets and floor length dresses as far as the eye could see. He sighed again at the cosmic unfairness of it all.
 
He got up and checked his supplies and found he was out of burba weed. Might as well make a run to the Magic Box, he thought. Nothing else on around here. He threw on his duster and made his way into the tunnels, making the turns almost automatically. While he walked he thought about his first shag. Drusilla. His eyes half closed as he remembered that first time. Her creamy white skin had gleamed in the moonlight coming through the window of some flat they had borrowed from one of their victims. She had run her pale hands down his shoulders, relieving him of his braces and trousers. He had fumbled with the strings of her corset, finally accepting her help to expose her breasts to his virgin explorations. It had been so wet and cool in her center, and he had hardly lasted ten minutes before blowing his load…
 
He found he was stroking himself through his jeans as he walked, desperate for release. What brought that memory up? he wondered. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about Drusilla in a while. He was still rather pissed at her about the whole chaos demon thing. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she showed up at his doorstep again. Actually, if she showed up today, he would shag her right into the ground, but the way he was feeling today he could probably shag anything short of Xander. He shuddered. The thought of Xander naked killed his mood, relieving a bit of the tightness in his jeans.
 
He reached the trapdoor which led into the basement of the Magic Box and lifted it quietly. He silently entered the basement, moving around the stacked boxes and shelving until he reached the boxes of stored herbs. As he rummaged for the burba weed, he heard the door open upstairs. Listening carefully, he heard Giles greet Buffy, and Buffy saying she needed to work out. He slipped the bag of herbs into his pocket as he listened. Buffy had started hitting the punching bag. He imagined her, kicking, whirling, punching. She was so amazingly hot when she fought. He closed his eyes and followed the sounds in his mind, knowing exactly what she would look like – blonde hair swinging, breath panting, green eyes snapping. Before he knew what he was doing his cock was in his hand again. He stroked himself, eyes still closed, panting at the thought of the Slayer, right above him, her gorgeous body moving in that deadly dance of hers. After a few moments he came with a barely stifled groan, followed by a noisy crash upstairs. He jumped, coming back to his senses. He had come all over the floor, and had nailed some candles as well. Somewhat sheepishly, he zipped his jeans and dashed back to the tunnels. Wonder what that crash was? Then a moment later he thought, Did I just have a wank in the Magic Box?
 
Spike paused for a moment in his travels, fumbling for a cigarette. He was not a shy person. Most of the inhibitions he had felt as a human had disappeared within a couple of weeks of being turned. But even he didn’t usually go for semi-public masturbation. Harmony’s only been gone for a few weeks. Hell, during World War II I went about 6 months without getting any, after those fucking Nazi bastards caught me. Why am I so bloody desperate? He couldn’t explain it at all.
 
He got back to his crypt still confused by his own behavior. He was 148 years old for God’s sake, not some pimply faced teenager with raging hormones. He poured himself some blood and sprinkled in the pilfered herbs. Settling down in his chair, he turned on Passions and tried to relish his Pig’s Blood Cocktail. The herbs made it at least semi-tolerable, but it would never pass for human.
 
Now some Slayer would go down nicely about now. He remembered the Chinese Slayer’s blood. That was good. And with that Drusilla chaser… God that was hot. His hand started drifting southward again when he realized what was happening. “What the bloody hell is wrong with me today?” he growled aloud. He finished off the blood and put the glass down, pacing around and running his hands through his hair. Gone completely off your rocker, William.
 
He threw himself back down in front of the TV and watched some old movie until sundown, trying with all his might to keep his mind off sex. But it was like the old joke about telling someone not to think of the elephant. Try as he might, that was all he could think of. Drusilla naked, bent over some barrel in a stable somewhere. Darla on her knees, sucking off Angelus. Fucking Harmony’s enormous tits. And Buffy. He had only rarely fucked human girls, and while he loved the heat of their bodies, they were usually unable to keep up with a supernaturally strong lover. But the Slayer – she would have the strength and stamina. She could probably go all night, in every position possible. Vampire-like strength plus human heat would probably kill him outright. Yeah, but what a way to go. He found himself climaxing again, almost without realizing he had been masturbating once more. He realized with some embarrassment that his dick was actually getting sore from all this. I have got to get out of here before I pull something off.
 
At last, the sun went down and Spike headed out. He found himself in completely unfamiliar territory. He desperately needed a shag. He wasn’t sure if vamps could dust from a case of blue balls, but he was well on his way to getting experimental data on this subject. But he had never, in all his years, been alone like this. Oh, sure, Drusilla had run off sometimes. But she always came back, and then he had had Harmony. And before this sodding chip in his head, he could take by force what he wasn’t getting willingly, usually immediately prior to dining on his unwilling bed partner. He had only rarely resorted to rape, preferring seduction as a more sporting way of fulfilling his needs. However here he was. No steady girl, couldn’t attack anyone, didn’t know any female vamps in town that weren’t pissed at him over bringing the Slayer down on their vampire brothel. And girls were a lot more careful these days. Back in the ‘60’s he could waltz into almost any club and be reasonably assured of finding some way to get laid. But now, with AIDS and all that rubbish, he was going to have a harder time picking someone up. At least he assumed so – he hadn’t really had to try in ages.
 
Finally, he decided he was going to have to at least check out a bar or club, see if he could get lucky. He thought about the Bronze, but didn’t fancy running into the Scoobies in this state. He was reaching the strip of nightclubs when a female voice called from a dark corner. “Looking for some fun?”
 
Spike turned to see a scrawny girl who couldn’t have been more than 19 coming out of an alley. She had black hair, streaked with pink, overdone makeup, and was wearing a tight leather miniskirt with black leather boots. Prostitutes were pretty rare in Sunnydale. Spike was sure that the good people of the town thought it was due to their incredible police force or some rot, but actually, they just tended to get eaten fairly quickly. Word spread among the few working girls that stayed to either wear a cross or check for a pulse in this town. But this girl was either new, or from the faintly off scent of her blood, completely strung out on drugs to the point that she didn’t care.
 
Never, in all my years, have I had to pay for a shag. Bloody well not going to start now. But as the girl moved closer to him his erection swelled even further, if that were possible, and his resolve wavered. “What if I was looking for something, pet?” he found himself saying.
 
“I could show you a good time,” she purred. The girl must have weighed 100 pounds soaking wet, and was clearly high as a kite. Spike wavered for a moment, but then she ran her hand up his arm.
 
Fuck it. Gotta get some or I’m gonna explode. “Where to?” he said in a low voice.
 
The girl led him to a decrepit apartment building a block away. He followed her up to a dingy room with a bed that had clearly seen a lot of use over the years. She turned to him after closing the door and said, “You gonna show me your cash?” Spike sighed, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of odd bills. He wasn’t even sure how much there was there, but she took it, tossed it on her dresser and stripped without further ceremony, lying back on the bed. She must be as desperate for her next fix as I am for a shag.
 
She wasn’t particularly appealing, but he was beyond caring at this point. He shed his duster and boots, and had his jeans off in a matter of seconds. The girl’s drug-hazed eyes widened at the size of his jutting cock. Spike climbed on the bed next to her, running a hand down over her thin body and between her legs. “You got a name?” he asked quietly.
 
“Raven,” she replied. Her pupils were far too large, but she ran her tongue over her lips in what approximated a sensual gesture. Spike fingered her expertly, and she grew wetter and writhed under his hands. Finally, he could bear it no longer, and rolled on top of her, entering her in one smooth motion. She was tiny, and tight, and he found that he could barely fit inside her. But she was warm, and he began thrusting, getting a little farther with each thrust. Oh yeah, need a good fuck, he thought. He was so pent up that he could barely hold himself in check. As his climax neared he started to lose control. He fought hard to keep his demon at bay, but as he was about to come he lost it. Roaring, he vamped out and grabbed the girl’s hips with bruising fingers, thrusting as hard as he could.
 
“Bloody FUCK!” he screamed as his chip fired. The girl screamed as well, both from pain and fright. He pulled out of her, reeling back to fall to his knees on the floor, clutching his head in agony as his erection promptly wilted. Raven scrambled backward, curling into a ball at the headboard, crying and shuddering. The sound of running feet in the hallway was followed by pounding at the door. “Raven!” yelled a woman’s voice. “You okay in there?”
 
Spike staggered to his feet, grabbing for his clothes. He had gotten his jeans and shoes on when the cheap door lock snapped and a slightly larger whore burst in, wielding a butcher knife. She took one look at Raven, who was still shaking and bleeding slightly, and went after Spike screeching, “What did you do to her you motherfucker?”
 
Deciding he had had quite enough of this scene, Spike grabbed his duster and dived out the window. He landed hard 2 stories down, then staggered to his feet, bruised and battered. He took a brief look back at the shocked face of Raven’s friend in the window, then headed back toward his crypt.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: Not trying to make any money, just playing with Joss Whedon’s toys.
For those who have stuck with the story so far, you will be rewarded with some Spuffiness in this chapter. Reviewers rock!
 
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Chapter 5: Nightfall
 
As they left the Magic Box, Xander found himself in desperate need of a beer. “Let’s get some dinner and then go for a drink at the Bronze,” he suggested.
 
Anya hesitated. “Dinner out gets pretty expensive. We should save our money so our savings will get bigger. We can eat at home.”
 
“Look, I had a long day, and I just feel like going out and relaxing, ok?” Xander snapped. I’m sure Tom’s wife never gives him this much argument over every stupid thing.
 
“Fine,” sighed Anya. “But can we please go someplace not too expensive?”
 
They settled on a pizza place, even though Xander was getting a little sick of pizza. But Anya insisted that they could only spend thirty dollars maximum on dinner, and pizza was the only thing that fit her newly developed budget. Xander started to order sodas to go with the pizza, which Anya had limited to one topping, but Anya interrupted and said, “We’ll just be having water, thanks.” The waiter shrugged, and went to the kitchen.
 
“What’s up with you today?” Xander asked. “You’ve been obsessed with amassing a fortune all day. Where did this all come from?”
 
Anya realized that she wasn’t exactly sure what had spurred the need to increase her wealth. But to Xander she said, “I know you worry about money sometimes. But I think if we really save every penny now, and put it in the bank, it will grow, and then we won’t have to worry. And if I can get Giles to use my ideas to get more out of the Magic Box, then it will grow even quicker!”
 
“So, we save this huge pile of money. Then what?” Xander wondered.
 
“Then we use some of it to buy a house, and keep saving the rest!” Isn’t it obvious?
 
Just then the door of the restaurant opened and in walked Tom, Xander’s supervisor, and his wife Jenny. She was dark haired, pretty, and glowing with her pregnancy. Great. Here comes Mr. Perfect and the Stepford Wife, he said to himself. Tom saw Xander as he passed the table and said, “Evening, Harris.”
 
“Hi Tom,” said Xander. “Do you remember Anya?”
 
“Of course, nice to see you,” said Tom.
 
“You must be getting close to the end of your pregnancy,” Anya observed. “You’ve gotten pretty large!”
 
Jenny blushed a bit. “Actually, I’m just five months along.”
 
“Wow. You’ll probably be as big as a car by the time the baby comes,” Anya observed.
 
Jenny was clearly not enjoying being reminded of her weight gain, but was too polite to say anything. She smiled a thin smile and said, “Well, we’re going to go have dinner. Nice to see you again.”
 
“See you Monday, Harris,” said Tom shortly, guiding his wife away to an empty table.
 
“What did you have to go say that for?” barked Xander.
 
“What do you mean?” Anya was genuinely confused. “I thought it was polite to inquire about someone’s pregnancy.”
 
“But not to call them fat!” Xander said accusingly.
 
“I didn’t call her fat!” said Anya indignantly. “Just because I thought she was farther along doesn’t mean I said she was fat!”
 
“How long do you have to be human before you start acting normal?” Xander exploded, drawing a curious look from a nearby couple. Embarrassed, he continued in a lower voice. “I really envy Tom. Must be nice to be able to go out with someone who actually knows how to behave without having to be told what to do every five minutes.”
 
Anya was crushed at Xander’s cruel statement. “How can you say that to me? I’m doing my best! I can’t help what I was for all those years!” She bit back tears as she stood up. “If I’m such an embarrassment to you, then I’ll just go. See you later.” With that she turned and left, hurt tears starting to fall down her face.
 
The rest of the patrons were all staring at Xander, some shocked, some snickering. With his face burning red, he threw down some money to pay the check and left the restaurant as quickly as he could. His car was still there, but Anya was nowhere to be seen. “Anya!” he called. The street was nearly empty, and he heard no reply. Damn her! And damn all them too. Everyone in town seems to be able to have a nice, normal relationship and nice normal friends. I get the Slayer, a couple of witches, and a demon girlfriend who doesn’t know how to behave in public. What did I do to deserve this? He got in his car, slammed the door, and drove to the Bronze, cursing the whole way.
 
When he got there, he went in and ordered a beer, sitting at a table in the corner by himself to drink it. He watched the swirling crowd, his frustration growing. He sometimes wondered how he had managed to be born in California, the land of the perfect people. Everyone he saw in the crowd was a better dancer than him, had better clothes than he did, and seemed relaxed and at ease with themselves. Even the bartender seemed to be enjoying himself, joking with customers and flirting with the pretty girls. He sulked for a few more minutes, then mentally slapped himself. What the hell is my problem? I’ve got a good looking girlfriend, a steady job, and a roof over my head. What do I have to complain about? He finished his beer, and left. Need to go home and see if I can patch things up with Anya.
 
Anya had stomped angrily out of the restaurant and had practically run back to the apartment. Xander is damn lucky I haven’t got my powers any more, or he’d be in a world of hurt. She was tired of being ragged on about her social skills. Pardon me for having grown up 1000 years ago in another country! How the hell am I supposed to know? Humans are too damn sensitive anyway. Still fighting tears of rage and hurt, she unlocked the apartment door and slammed it behind her.
 
She thought about just packing her things and leaving. But as she was heading for the closet to grab her suitcase, she changed her mind. No. I’m not going to leave and let him have all the money and things we’ve gotten together. She started looking around the apartment. She gathered all the loose change and spare bills she could find, tied it into one of Xander’s socks, and stuffed it under the mattress as far as it would go. Then she started making a list of things they had bought together: the dining table, the lamp in the living room, the coffee maker, the television. Tomorrow I’m putting all this stuff on eBay. Once I get it all sold, then I’m out of here.
 
After finishing her list, she went to their bedroom, shut the door and locked it. She got into her pajamas and slipped into bed. As she gradually started to relax, she wondered if she was overreacting. Xander has been cranky all day. Maybe his mouth just outstripped his brain again, as usual. She tossed and turned. Did she really want to throw this all away over a little argument? She had to admit that her brain usually jumped straight to vengeance without considering other possible outcomes. I’ll deal with it in the morning, she decided. Let him stew for a night. Maybe then he’ll appreciate me. Otherwise, he’ll find he’s missing the extra cash I bring in next time he wants to go out somewhere. She drifted off into a troubled sleep.
 
Xander came home soon after, opening the door softly. “Anya?” he called. There was no answer, but he thought he heard a faint snoring from the bedroom. He went to the door and found it locked. “Anya?” he repeated, a little louder. So no trouble sleeping I guess. Figures. Doesn’t really need me. No one seems to. Wallowing in self pity, Xander kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the couch fully dressed. Maybe she’ll talk to me in the morning. He lay there for a long while, imagining all the other couples he knew, happily snuggled next to each other, while he tried to get comfortable on his couch. I hate my life, he thought, and finally fell asleep as well.
 
**********************
 
After a long afternoon of lovemaking and a shared shower, Tara and Willow made their way over to the Magic Box. Willow’s stated purpose was to ask Giles some questions about a few of the spells she had been looking over. Secretly, she really wanted to find a way to show off some of her newly learned spells. If I could just show him what I can do, I’m sure it would open up all sorts of new possibilities for fighting Glory and other baddies.
 
The two witches ignored the ‘closed’ sign on the door and went in to find Giles sitting at the table, doing research. “Good evening,” he said pleasantly.
 
“Hey, Giles,” said Willow, looking around. “Anya and Xander leave already?”
 
“Yes. Xander wanted to go out for dinner or some such thing,” said Giles offhandedly.
 
Dinner, thought Tara. “That reminds me, are either of you interested in Chinese takeout for dinner?”
 
“Maybe in a little while,” Giles responded. “I’ve been trying to determine if there is some magical way to track Glory, so we can know when she’s on the move.”
 
“I was trying to modify a locator spell earlier to do that sort of thing,” Willow offered. “It didn’t really work, but I think that’s because I was tired and wasn’t concentrating. I should try it again.”
 
Giles looked up, slightly alarmed. “Willow, spells aren’t like cake recipes. You can’t just try substitutions to see what works. You could have injured yourself or someone else.”
 
“I wasn’t just substituting anything at random,” Willow responded indignantly. “It’s not like I just opened a spell book and picked the first chant that looked good. And nothing happened!”
 
Tara raised her eyebrows at Willow, surprised at the barefaced lie. Willow noticed her look and backpedaled, “Well, ok, the map did catch fire. But it was no big deal.”
 
Giles sighed. “Willow, you are becoming an extremely powerful witch. But if you don’t learn to tame and control your power you’re like a seven year old with a box of matches. I must insist that you stick to established spells and only use them when necessary.”
 
Willow rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just drop it. What are we working on now?”
 
Giles looked sternly at her for a moment, then started showing her what he had been reading. After about ten minutes of conferring, Tara stood up. “I’m going to order that Chinese now. Any preferences?”
 
Willow looked up. “I’ll have something in the cashew chicken family,” she said, bending back over the books.
 
Giles clearly was more interested in research than food at the moment. “Whatever you get will be fine,” he said offhandedly.
 
Tara found the menu and number of the local Chinese place in Giles’ office. She was nearly salivating as she read through the list. How can I choose? It all looks good. Finally she settled on Kung Pao chicken, cashew chicken, beef lo mein, eggrolls, vegetable fried rice, and something called Buddah’s delight. She called in the order, and then went back into the other room, to find Willow and Giles in a heated discussion.
 
“All I’m saying, Giles, is that there is a faster way to find information!”
 
“But are you sure that this spell isn’t going to harm you or the books?” Giles questioned. “Some of these books are rare editions and irreplaceable!”
 
“Giles, trust me!” Willow said. Then without giving the Watcher a chance to say anything further, Willow started muttering the words to a spell. “Show me the wisdom I seek!” she finished.
 
For a moment, nothing happened. Then a number of heavy volumes flew off the shelves, straight at Willow and Giles. “Willow! For God’s sake! OW!” Giles sputtered and cursed as one of the heavier volumes clocked him in the back of the head. Willow too shielded her face against the rain of books as the shelves practically emptied themselves at her. After a five minute long torrent of paper, the books stopped flying and the shop was still once again.
 
“Ugh,” groaned Willow. She had fallen to the floor and was half buried under a mountain of texts. Tara, who had been glued to the floor in shock, now rushed forward to help her.
 
“Are you ok?” she asked, helping Willow to her feet.
 
Giles too was staggering to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. “Willow, as I was trying to tell you, spells like that need to be focused. You apparently seek magical wisdom of all kinds, because you just pulled the whole bloody library down on our heads!” he shouted, utterly annoyed at her failure to listen.
 
“Sorry, Giles,” Willow mumbled in a small voice. “I was just trying to help.”
 
“Then help by picking up this mess!” Giles was an extremely patient man, but he had just about had enough of Willow at this point. What do I need to say to this girl to get through to her?
 
“No problem,” Willows piped up. Then muttering yet another spell, the books levitated, more slowly this time, and returned themselves more or less neatly to the shelves. “See Giles! I can do the spells, I just need some practice on some of them, that’s all.”
 
Giles’ irritated reply was cut short by a knock at the door, which turned out to be the delivery guy from the Chinese restaurant. Tara paid him and lugged the enormous bag of food over to the now clean table.
 
“Goodness gracious,” said Giles. “Are we expecting the others to join us?”
 
“Well, I couldn’t decide between a couple of things, so I figured we’ll just have some leftovers,” Tara explained. Giles’ shook his head slightly, then went to get some paper plates and silverware from his office. They dug in, turning the conversation to other topics to defuse the situation.
 
“Buffy was in here earlier working out and seemed extremely agitated about something. Did either of you notice anything unusual last night?” Giles inquired.
 
Both witches shook their heads. “Dawn was being a bit whinier than usual last night, but I can’t think of anything else in particular,” said Tara, as she polished off her plate and reached for seconds.
 
“Hmm,” Giles mumbled. “Well, I suppose she’s under a bit of pressure lately. She probably has a right to be a little on edge.”
 
“Define ‘a little on edge’,” said Willow, curious.
 
“She kicked the heavy bag lose from the ceiling and clear across the training room,” Giles responded.
 
“Ouch,” said Tara. “Could she still be upset about the whole Riley thing?”
 
“I’m not certain,” said Giles. “She hasn’t mentioned him particularly since he left. Our conversations have mostly been about Glory. I know she’s worried about her mother’s condition as well.”
 
“She’s under a lot of stress, Giles,” Willow remarked. “It’s probably not a sign of impending doom if she needed to work off some steam.”
 
Giles finished his eggroll and sat back, thinking. Willow was probably right. But there seemed to be some nagging suspicion in his mind that he couldn’t shake. He shook his head briefly, and got up to clear his place.
 
Willow finished as well, and likewise got up to throw things away. She noticed the sign on the ‘Enchanted Love Candles’ and paused. “Giles? Are all these candles the same?”
 
“They should be. Why do you ask?”
 
Willow looked at them closely. “Some of them seem to be a slightly off color. I wonder if some other candles got mixed in. If they’re just plain candles that’s fine, but I thought you had some others designed for specific spells. People might get some interesting effects if they mixed the two.”
 
Giles looked more closely at the candles. Sure enough, some of them were different. “Anya was in a ‘sell everything that’s not nailed down’ mood this morning. Maybe she stuck them in there.” Giles removed the odd candles, resolving to have a long discussion with Anya in the morning.
 
“The dance of capitalist glee strikes again?” joked Willow.
 
“With a vengeance,” Giles agreed. He turned to Tara and asked, “We can put the leftovers in…” He stopped, and boggled a bit at the sight of Tara finishing the last of the food.
 
Tara blushed, and covered a small burp. “Umm, it seems there are no leftovers.”
 
Giles was flabbergasted. “I say, haven’t you eaten today?” Giles and Willow had each had one plate of food. Tara had managed to polish off every last remaining crumb. Even Buffy, whose appetite was legendary given the amount of energy she burned off in the line of duty, could not have eaten that much in one sitting.
 
“I don’t know, I guess I was just extra hungry,” shrugged Tara. Although now that you mention it, I have been a complete pig today.
 
That nagging feeling was back in Giles’ brain. Buffy, Anya, Willow, Tara – they’re all acting a bit odd today. He had heard that women who worked together a lot sometimes had their monthly cycles synch up with each other. Perhaps that would explain it. It all bears watching, I guess.
 
Tara had finished clearing up the remains of dinner, and they started getting back to research. For the most part the three of them read and took notes quietly. But Giles found that Willow was casually levitating books toward herself, instead of getting up for them, levitating her pencil off the floor when it dropped, and at one point turning pages without touching them. Finally he said, “Willow, I must insist that you stop doing that!”
 
Willow looked up, puzzled. “Doing what?”
 
“You need to stop using magic for mundane things. You should reserve your power for when it is truly needed. Magic can be somewhat addictive, and can get out of control.” Giles said sternly.
 
“Giles is right,” Tara agreed. “You can end up losing control of the power and hurting yourself or someone else.”
 
“What is this, National Lecture Willow Day?” Willow retorted. “I’m not hurting anyone, I’m just making the research go faster!” I guess I am getting a bit of a headache, come to think of it, but that could be from anything.
 
Giles took off his glasses and pinched his nose. “But the research isn’t going any faster. We’re getting nowhere, and I think we should call it a night.”
 
“Are you ok, Giles?” Tara asked, concerned.
 
“I’m fine, but it has been a long day, and I am in no mood for an argument right now,” Giles replied. Truthfully, I’ve had my fill of moody young women today.
 
Willow looked hurt. “I was only trying to help,” she grumbled, packing up her things.
 
“I know you were,” Giles sighed. “I just get concerned about you. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
 
“I understand, Giles,” said Willow. “But I’m just trying to tell you that you really don’t need to be concerned about me. I’m getting much better at this, and I’m in control of it.”
 
“Even so, please just… consider the consequences of your spells carefully from now on,” Giles said. With that the girls said their goodbyes and left. Giles went into his office and threw himself into the chair, pulling out the scotch he had hidden in the lower drawer of his desk. He poured himself a stiff drink and leaned back. This lot will be the death of me, he thought as he tossed back the scotch and reached for a refill.
 
**********************
 
Joyce was completely exasperated by the time Dawn finally got out of the tub, a half hour after Buffy left. “So nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Joyce remarked.
 
“Sorry,” Dawn mumbled. She sat down and helped herself to the now cold spaghetti and sauce. Her mom got up to get herself a drink and Dawn asked, “Do you mind sticking this in the microwave for me?”
 
Joyce took the plate from Dawn and popped it in the microwave, but then turned to look hard at her daughter. “Are you feeling ok today, honey? You seem like you’re dragging.”
 
Dawn shrugged. “I feel fine, I guess. Just needed a day off.”
 
Joyce frowned and handed Dawn her plate. “I think I’m going to take your temperature after dinner anyway. You could be coming down with something.”
 
Dawn didn’t want her mom to worry. “Really, mom, I’m fine,” she said, making an effort to perk up and look livelier. “Tell me about your trip.”
 
Joyce filled Dawn in on all the things she had purchased for her gallery. Dawn finished her spaghetti, and thought about getting more, but didn’t feel like getting up to nuke it. She reached for some salad instead, prompting her mom to say, “Are you voluntarily eating a vegetable? You must be sick.”
 
“Ha, ha, mom,” said Dawn. She usually wasn’t big on the veggies, but it seemed the easiest way to get more to eat without getting up and without asking her mom to get up either. I think I’m raising laziness to an art form, she thought.
 
“Did you finish your history project?” asked Joyce.
 
Dawn swallowed and thought quickly. “N…not completely,” she admitted. “But I started it.”
 
“Define started,” said Joyce, knowing her daughter well enough to know when she was prevaricating.
 
“Well, I read a bunch of the stuff, and started an outline,” said Dawn with what she hoped was a winning smile.
 
“I see,” said Joyce. “How about after dinner you bring all that in the dining room, away from the TV, and get something done?”
 
“Okay,” grumbled Dawn. She finished her dinner and got up to go fetch her books.
 
“Ahem,” said Joyce, pointing at Dawn’s dishes. “Did we just move in yesterday, or did we forget the ‘clear your place’ rule?”
 
We just didn’t feel like it, thought Dawn. Sighing, she stalked back to the table, grabbed her dishes, and placed them in the sink. Seems like a lot of wasted effort to do all this stuff if mom is standing right there. She got her books and plunked them down on the dining room table. Joyce looked in on her for a few minutes while she got herself situated, then turned to the dishes.
 
Dawn opened her books and started writing. Average age of a soldier in the trenches was 21 years old. A lot of the trenches were in France. Lots of mud, disease, poison gas. Sounds like a swell time. Not. She actually managed a whole 20 minutes of work on her outline before she drifted off again. She found herself just staring into space. What’s the point of this anyway? I mean, aren’t there diaries of these guys out there already? If you wanted to know what it was like you could go read one! That gave Dawn an idea. I know they have that sort of thing at the library. If I get one of those, I can use it for ideas. Then I don’t have to spend all this time thinking it up.
 
The thought that she could find something to work from tomorrow inspired her to pack up for the night. She got up and stretched, yawning like she had been digging ditches all day. Joyce came in and marveled at her daughter. “You can’t be done already?” she said.
 
“No,” Dawn replied. “But I realize that I need one more source from the library tomorrow before I can write this. I’m missing some information.”
 
“You have five books there already, and you need more?”
 
“Yeah, some of these focus more on the tanks and stuff than the soldiers,” Dawn said. This was not entirely true, but she hoped her mom wouldn’t read the books to find out.
 
“Ok, but that does have to get done early tomorrow,” said Joyce. “What are you going to do now?”
 
“I was going to watch a movie or something.”
 
“Well, I guess it is Saturday night,” Joyce conceded.
 
Dawn plopped herself back on the couch and clicked through channels until she found some romantic comedy. Joyce sat down next to her and they enjoyed the movie together. When the movie was over, Joyce yawned. “I’m going up to bed.”
 
Dawn thought that sounded like a good idea, but the couch was soooo comfy. ”I think I’ll watch a little more before I come up,” she said, stretching out full length now that she had the couch to herself.
 
“Ok, lazybones, but don’t stay up too late,” said Joyce, kissing her goodnight.
 
“Night, mom,” said Dawn, before beginning to channel surf once more. Dawn was about ten minutes into the next show when she fell asleep, utterly content to be completely inert.
 
Joyce got ready for bed, worrying slightly about both of her girls. I really hope Dawn isn’t getting sick or something. We don’t really need more sickness around here right now. And I do hope Buffy manages to figure out what’s bothering her today. Joyce looked at the clock and frowned. It was getting late, and although Buffy was usually coming and going at all hours, she still worried.
 
******************
 
Buffy was having the most productive night of slaying she could remember. After taking out the nest of vampires, she had started to prowl the campus, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. She was disappointed in that she only found one vampire out stalking college girls. He was dressed as a member of Tau Beta Phi, and was trying to get one of a group of girls to come with him. Buffy sauntered up, said, “I’m interested” in a sultry voice, and led him around the back of the frat house, where she promptly beat the crap out of him before staking him.
 
She got up and brushed her hands off, sighing at the blood staining her boots. Normally, this wasn’t a problem; she was all ‘stake and go’. But tonight she just felt so… angry. She found herself needing to watch the vampires noses bleed, listen to their bones crack and watch them curl up into the fetal position as she kneed their groins. When did I turn into a sadist? She continued across the campus, meaning to hit another cemetery or two before she went home. She passed by Lowell house and scowled. Can’t believe that bastard cheated on me with fucking vampire whores. Creep. She wished she had kicked his ass while he was there, rather than chasing after him in that helicopter, calling his name. Good riddance.
 
She paused for a moment in her stalking and fuming. She knew she was irritated and unhappy with the whole Riley situation, but where was this rage coming from today? She had to admit that she was ripping through Sunnydale’s demon population with a ferocity that was completely unlike her. She was a little concerned. What if I lose my temper and end up hurting someone I care about? Maybe I should try meditating or something like Angel used to do.
 
She found that thought triggered another whole train of thoughts behind it. Angel. Mister Leave-for-your-own-good. Well, except when he wants to spy on me because I clearly can’t take care of myself. All that broodiness – gah. Who needs that? She continued stalking toward the remaining cemeteries, lost in her own angry thoughts.
 
Upon entering Restfield cemetery, she looked around for any vampire activity. She was rewarded by the sight of a fledgling erupting from his grave. She got there after he had already emerged, and started in with her usual, “Hi! Welcome to Sunnydale!” But this fledgling was large, and rather energetic for some reason. He turned on her and attacked, causing her to leap out of the way. She relished the fight, and found herself prolonging it, tripping him, toying with him, and making him think he had a chance. But then at some point he got in a good kick and knocked her back against a headstone. “Ow!” she yelled. “That fucking hurt!” She got up, absolutely furious, and stopped playing around. She rained such a flurry of blows and kicks on him that he reeled, not knowing where the next one was coming from. She tackled him to the ground, landing squarely on his crotch before pounding his face into a bloody pulp. Finally, she took out her stake and stabbed him about five times in his chest, just for spite, before finally hitting his heart and dusting him.
 
As she sat there, panting, she felt the prickles on her neck that meant another vampire was coming up behind her. She waited for a moment, then whirled and launched herself at the figure behind her. “Oy! Slayer! It’s me!” said a familiar voice.
 
Buffy found herself lying full length on top of Spike, who was flat on his back with his hands up, wincing in pain. “Spike?” said Buffy, still on top of him. “What are you doing here?”
 
“I’m on my way back to my crypt,” he spat out. “Now can you please get off my bruised ribs?” And damn if I’m not getting a hard-on again with you writhing about on top of me.
 
“Sorry,” said Buffy, hastily getting up. She stepped back as Spike, groaning, hauled himself to his feet. “What did you tangle with?”
 
An angry crack whore, he thought. But he figured that answer would probably not be the best thing to say to the Slayer, so he went with, “Someone who disagreed with me.”
 
“Well, next time, don’t sneak up on me like that. I could have dusted you.”
 
“Yeah, I saw how quickly you dusted that last guy,” Spike observed. “Do you usually torment your prey like that?”
 
“What do you mean, torment?” Buffy snapped. Then she stopped. “I’m doing it again. I’ve just been totally pissed off all day long, for no reason.”
 
“Just don’t take it out on me, love,” he said. He was standing close enough to her to smell her slight arousal. Slayer always does get turned on by a good fight. He wondered if he could use that to his advantage tonight. The interrupted shag with Raven did nothing to reduce his out of control horniness. “Any particular reason you’re in such a foul mood?”
 
“If you say it’s because of Riley, I swear to God I will dust you,” she growled. “If I stop grinning like an idiot for five minutes, someone brings him up.”
 
“Well, maybe you need someone to help take your mind off Captain Cardboard,” said Spike in a low voice.
 
“Excuse me?” Buffy said indignantly. “Do you ever stop running your mouth?” At the same time, she became aware that she was in her usual post-slayage state of arousal. Usually the feeling wore off by the time she walked home, but Spike had interrupted her cool-off period.
 
“I’m just saying, love,” purred Spike, moving slightly closer. “I know Slayers. I know their… needs.” He ran his hand lightly down her arm.
 
Buffy slapped his hand away angrily. “Who do you think you are, Spike?” she yelled. “Besides, you’re forever making all these suggestive comments, but you have no intention of doing anything about it. It’s just another one of your ‘fuck with the Slayer’s mind’ tricks.”
 
Spike’s eyes flashed yellow briefly. “I’ll show you exactly what I intend to do about it,” he growled. With that, he grabbed her arms and pulled her into a kiss. Oh God, she tastes good. He nearly groaned as the pressure in his groin reached crisis proportions. Past dreams flashed through his mind as he probed her mouth with his tongue. That dream didn’t even come close to this.
 
Buffy pulled back after a moment, shocked. She stood there with her hand to her mouth, trying to figure out what had just happened. Spike stood there, panting, his eyes wide and smoking with lust. I should stake him now! But she was aroused and wanting, and it pissed her off that he could turn her on like that. If she staked him she was going back to an empty room and an empty bed, with nothing but her own hands for company. She wavered for a moment.
 
“More where that came from,” Spike whispered, moving toward her again. The bulge in his jeans was obvious, even in the dim light. Want you so bad, Slayer.
 
Buffy hesitated another moment, then grabbed his shoulders, kissing him back fiercely. Screw it, she decided. Parker and Riley seem to be able to get their rocks off and then leave whenever they damn well please. Why can’t I? Besides, I can’t think of anything that would piss off any of my exes more than screwing Spike. She clutched the back of his hair in her hands and scoured his mouth with her tongue.
 
Spike’s eyes widened with surprise, then he closed them and let the scent of Slayer fill his nostrils. Fucking amazing. He broke off the kiss long enough to pant out, “My crypt. Right over there.”
 
Buffy gasped and nodded. He grabbed her hand and they ran with their supernatural speed to cover the distance in seconds. The second they were inside Spike slammed the door shut behind him and shed his duster. Buffy dropped her jacket to the floor as well and they attacked each other’s lips once more. Spike’s hands were everywhere, loosening her jeans, unbuttoning her shirt, all the while grinding his rock-hard crotch into her.
 
Buffy started to pull Spike’s shirt up, but after about a second got frustrated and just tore it straight down the middle. She ran her hands down his sculpted chest and abs as she stepped out of her jeans. She fumbled with Spike’s belt until his hands joined hers, freeing his cock from its prison at last.
 
Spike scooped her up suddenly and laid her down on top of a sarcophagus. He tore her bra and panties off in succession, pushing her back to settle between her thighs. Buffy started to yell, “Hey! Those were expensive you bas…” Her curses turned into a groan of ecstasy as Spike’s mouth descended onto her clit.
 
Spike slipped his finger into her wet center, curling it to hit her g-spot as he swirled his tongue around her clit. Normally, he would tease a woman for ages before making her come, but today, he just couldn’t wait. He expertly zeroed in on all the right spots. Within minutes he felt her muscles contracting and heard her cries of pleasure as the orgasm hit like a thunderbolt.Fuck, Riley was never this good, she thought. How come that self-righteous prick never went down on me?
 
While she was still shuddering, Spike climbed up her body with lightning speed and entered her. “Buffy, shit Buffy you’re so fucking hot,” he babbled as he sank to the hilt into her dripping core. Buffy clawed his back fiercely as she met his thrusts, arching her back and pounding her hips into his. “Yesss,” she hissed, her nails drawing blood from his back. She clenched her muscles and Spike roared out his pleasure. He shifted and spread her wider, pounding her depths hard and fast. She felt another orgasm building and closed her eyes, moaning and throwing her head back.
 
At the sight of her beautiful neck stretched out before him, Spike’s demon came to the fore. As his balls tightened with his impending orgasm he reached down, held the back of her head in his hand, and sank his fangs as delicately as he could into her neck.
 
“Oh God!” screamed Buffy, her muscles squeezing him painfully. She jerked and thrashed as she experienced the most amazing climax of her life. As her sweet blood hit his tongue Spike roared again, screaming as he came. He thrust into her wildly, his mind shorting out in a wave of pleasure. He filled her with his dead seed as he drank deeply from her neck, the sweet release stretching out impossibly long for both of them.
 
With an extreme effort Spike finally pulled his fangs out of her neck, his human face falling back into place as he gasped and panted. Buffy looked up at him, eyes unfocused, panting and gasping as well. Then suddenly she shook her head and her eyes became aware, and furious.
 
“Fucking bastard!” she screamed, shoving him off of her with all her might. “You bit me! You fucking bit me!” She scrambled off the sarcophagus, moving into a defensive posture, wondering where her stake had gotten to. How the hell did he get that chip out? How long has he been free to feed?
 
“Now just a bloody minute, here,” Spike said, warily keeping between her and the pile of clothing that probably contained a stake or two. “Let’s just…”
 
Buffy launched herself at him with a flying side kick into his midsection. Cursing, Spike hit the ground, then lunged, grabbed her foot and twisted it, sending her flying. “Bloody hell!” he screamed, grabbing his head. If I ever get my hands on the bastard who came up with this chip they will never find all the pieces.
 
Buffy crashed into the wall. She shook herself and leaped to her feet, preparing to defend herself against the next attack. But then she noticed that Spike was staggering to his feet, clutching his head. “Your chip still works?” she asked, confused.
 
“Yes, it fucking works you stupid bitch,” he growled. Some corner of his brain registered that they were both still naked. Fighting Buffy naked. Now that would be a film worth seeing. He shook his head, trying to stay focused.
 
“How could you bite me then?” she wondered, edging over toward the scattered clothing.
 
“Probably because I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Spike snapped. “It’s called pleasing your sex partner. Thought I was doing a right good job of it too, until you freaked out on me.”
 
Buffy stopped for a moment. She had no response. It had felt good. Incredible even. She had had what she thought was good sex before, but this… This had been beyond anything she had ever experienced. And it utterly pissed her off that the author of this experience was the cocky, annoying vampire in front of her.
 
Buffy started snatching up her clothes. “If you even think about telling anyone about this, you’re going to think that what I did to that last vampire was merciful.”
 
Frustrated, Spike grabbed for his own jeans. “Who’m I gonna tell? The Scoobies’d stake me in a heartbeat and your mother is far too nice of a lady to hear that her daughter just shagged a vampire out of the blue.”
 
Buffy was stuttering in her rage. “I…? You kissed me, don’t you remember?” She threw her jacket on, glowering at Spike across the crypt.
 
“Not like you exactly slapped my face and defended your honor,” said Spike, smirking.
 
Buffy stalked over to him and searched his blue eyes for a moment. Then she reared back, punched him in the nose, and stalked out, slamming the door and leaving him swearing and clutching his bleeding face.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: As always, the characters belong to Joss Whedon, who graciously shares them.
I really love reviewers! They inspire me!
 
*********************
 
Chapter 6: Unraveling
 
Tara found herself awake at midnight, feeling hungry. She lay in bed, watching Willow sleep beside her. She tried with all her might to go back to sleep, but failed miserably. I could really use a snack, she thought. Quietly, she got up and went to the fridge. She pulled out the cheese and a yogurt, and sat down at the desk. She opened a book she was supposed to be reading for her literature class, but found that 5 pages in she had finished her snack and was still hungry. She went back and found that the only thing left was one more yogurt, and the Chinese leftovers from who knows when. Should probably get rid of those, she mused, grabbing the yogurt. I should really stop eating anyhow.
 
Three minutes later, the second yogurt was gone, and Tara found herself still thinking about food. She willed herself to concentrate on her book, and succeeded for a whole two minutes. Then she was back at the fridge. She opened the box of Chinese noodles and sniffed experimentally. The smell wasn’t… terrible. It’s basically pasta, right? And a little shrimp. How bad could it be? She wavered for a moment, then grabbed the box and a fork and wolfed it down cold. When she finished, she groaned slightly.Ugh. Bad idea. Bewildered at her own lack of self control, she threw out the box and climbed back into bed. Really, really wish I hadn’t done that. What’s wrong with me this weekend? After a few moments of tossing and turning she fell into a sleep punctuated by bizarre dreams of food.
 
Willow was awakened around six in the morning by a moan. She opened her eyes to find Tara next to her, curled up in a ball, her face red and sweaty. “Tara? What’s wrong baby?” Willow asked, alarmed.
 
“My stomach,” she groaned. “I feel so…” Tara rolled out of bed and just made it to the trash can before she threw up. She sat back, pale and exhausted looking, as Willow brought her a glass of water. As she drank, Willow laid a hand on her forehead.
 
“You’re burning up, Tara,” Willow said. “Maybe we should get you to the health clinic.”
 
“I’ll be ok, I think,” Tara gasped as she sipped some more water. “I just…” Her words were interrupted once more by her need to stick her head in the garbage can. After another bout of vomiting, she sat back and regarded Willow ruefully. “You may have a point about the health clinic,” she admitted.
 
Willow helped Tara to her feet and found her some clothes. Tara was shaking now with the fever. When they left the room, Tara had to dash to the bathroom before they even made it out of the building. After two more episodes of vomiting on the way over, they finally made it to the campus health center. The triage nurse took one look at Tara and ushered her into a room. “How long have you felt this way?” the nurse asked, as she took Tara’s temperature.
 
Willow answered, “She woke up a little while ago, throwing up.”
 
The nurse looked at the thermometer. “103.5. That’s pretty high.” Tara moaned again and the nurse quickly brought her a basin to hold. After throwing up yet again, Tara said, “I ate some leftovers last night that might have been a bit too old. Could that be it?”
 
“You ate that Chinese?” Willow said incredulously. “That’s been in there for more than two weeks!”
 
Tara’s response was to throw up yet again. She flopped back on the pillow looking pale and drained. The nurse called for a doctor, who came in and examined Tara. “What was in those leftovers, young lady?” she asked.
 
“Shrimp lo mein,” Tara groaned. “Wasn’t my best idea.”
 
“You’re going to need to stay here for a day or two. Nurse, get an IV going, she’s getting dehydrated. We’ll need to draw some blood to be sure of exactly what we’re dealing with,” the doctor ordered. Turning to Willow, she said, “Are you her friend?”
 
“Yes, we live together,” answered Willow.
 
“Then why don’t you go out to the reception area and get her checked in while we take care of her, ok?”
 
Willow nodded. She stroked Tara’s forehead. “It’ll be ok, baby,” she said soothingly. Tara nodded weakly, then retched again. Willow reluctantly followed the nurse out to the waiting area and started filling out forms.
 
*******************
 
Anya was up early on Sunday morning. She left the bedroom to go shower, and felt a minor pang of guilt seeing Xander sleeping on the sofa. Maybe I did overreact a bit last night. She left him sleeping and took a quick shower. As she was getting dressed afterward, she heard a knock on the bedroom door.
 
“Anya? Can I come in?” he asked quietly.
 
Anya pulled her shirt on and opened the door. “Morning, Xander,” she said in a neutral tone. She wasn’t sure how he felt this morning. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt either, she realized.
 
“Anya, I’m sorry I yelled at you last night,” Xander said, looking down. “I was really irritated all day, and I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
 
“It’s ok, hon,” said Anya, moving over to wrap her arms around him. “Apology accepted.”
 
Xander hugged her back, trying to ignore the little voice in his head. She should be apologizing to you, for embarrassing you all the time. Why should you be saddled with the chore of constantly teaching her manners? He forced himself to concentrate on the woman in his arms. “What are you doing up so early on a Sunday?” he asked.
 
“I’m going in to the Magic Box,” she explained. “I want to really go through the basement and decide what else we can sell. I really think we should expand our offerings so we can make more money.”
 
“Do you need to go so soon?” Xander said in a low voice. “We could… spend some time together.”
 
Normally the thought of orgasms was enough to make Anya forget that work even existed. But for some reason today the concept of making money seemed of paramount importance. “I’d love to, sweetheart, but I really need to get to work. Giles is never going to have the drive to turn this store into the money machine it could be without my giving him a push.”
 
Xander sighed. “Fine,” he said shortly. “I can see that there’s no way I’m going to be able to compete with money for your affections.” He released her abruptly and stalked off into the bathroom for his own shower. Anya rolled her eyes. Whatever. She grabbed some cereal for breakfast, poured herself a cup of coffee to go, and left. Xander’s going to have to learn that the whole world does not revolve around orgasms. Money is essential for our future happiness, and if he’s not going to earn it then I’ll have to.
 
Xander snarled as he rinsed his hair. I’m never going to be good enough. Never going to be rich enough, or good looking enough, or anything enough for her. He turned off the water and toweled off. As he dressed, he tried to decide what he should do, now that he was up. Maybe I’ll stop by Buffy’s house. There’s got to be a way that I can help her with her Slayer duties. He combed his hair, trying to imagine something, anything he could do to show her his true worth.
 
***************
 
Buffy had gotten home very late, rage pouring off of her in waves. She was angry at Spike, angry at herself, angry at the world in general. Fuck you, Riley, she snarled incoherently to herself. If you hadn’t been such an ass, I wouldn’t be so desperate as to screw Spikeof all people, just to get back at you. Her anger was mixed with occasional shudders as she remembered the sensations she had experienced. That orgasm had been… She had no words. ‘Earthshaking’ came close, but still fell short of the mark. And the thing that pissed her off the most was the knowledge that she wanted more. She growled at herself as she stripped and showered briefly before bed. Fuck Spike for making that so good. Damn. I want more. Fucking vampire. She viciously pulled a nightshirt over her head and got into bed. She pounded the pillow hard enough to make a few errant feathers fly before she lay down. Her bunched muscles nearly vibrated for a long, long while until she finally relaxed enough to fall asleep. Her dreams were dark, violent, and erotic by turns, and she found herself tossing restlessly all night.
 
Buffy slept relatively late, for her, wakening around ten o’clock. She made her way downstairs, and poured herself a cup of coffee. Joyce came up from the basement and said, “I was beginning to wonder if either of you were ever going to get up today.”
 
“Long patrol last night,” Buffy said, trying not to look her mother in the eyes. She felt like her late night activities must somehow be etched on her face. She ducked into the fridge for the orange juice and popped a frozen bagel into the toaster.
 
“Well, I’m just glad you are home safe and sound,” Joyce said. “No injuries I hope?”
 
“I’m fine, Mom,” Buffy replied, forcing herself to smile in order to reassure her mother.
 
“Glad to hear it. Now if I could just get your sister out of bed. She wanted a ride to the library, but I need to go out soon. If she’s not ready by eleven, she’ll be out of luck. I need to meet one of the artists at the gallery to talk about the upcoming show.” Joyce went upstairs to Dawn’s room and opened the door. “Dawn Summers, are you ever getting yourself out of that bed?”
 
“I’m coming,” Dawn whined from under her covers. Don’t you know that teenagers need lots of sleep? I’m sure I read about it somewhere. She had slept on the couch until Buffy had come in during the early hours of the morning. She had woken and turned off the TV when she heard her sister opening the door, then had waited until Buffy had stormed past to scurry up to bed. Given Buffy’s mood the last day or so, she hadn’t want to encounter her sister when she was still in Slayer mode.
 
“Just so you know, Miss Watch-Movies-All-Night, I have to leave in a little less than an hour. If you’re not in the car, you’re not getting a ride to the library.” With that, Joyce went back downstairs.
 
Dawn rolled over and put the pillow over her head. Just five more minutes, then I’ll get up.
 
Buffy finished her breakfast and went upstairs to get dressed. As she was brushing her hair, she noticed the fresh bite mark on her neck. Son of a bitch! Now I’m going to have to deal with a thousand questions from Giles and the rest. Thanks for nothing, Spike. I should have staked your ass long ago. She shivered a bit as she ran her fingertips over the bite. A small wave of moisture leaked from between her legs at the memory. Damn him to hell. Repeatedly. She dabbed a bit of concealer on the marks to camouflage them, and decided it would have to do.
 
She made her bed and tidied her room a bit, then straightened up the bathroom. It irked her that Dawn was just going to come in and trash it again, but she didn’t want to burden her mother with more chores. She was just finishing when she heard the door open downstairs.
 
“Hey Mrs. Summers, is Buffy around?” came Xander’s voice. Buffy came tripping down the stairs to greet him.
 
“What’s going on, Xander?” asked Buffy.
 
Xander stammered out, “I… um… came to see if there was anything you needed my help for.” He suddenly felt stupid. Slick, Harris, real slick. Even Tara sounds more capable than you, and she stutters. But he maintained his best ‘ready for action’ look and waited for Buffy’s reply.
 
“Not really sure there’s anything much going on right now,” said Buffy, starting to feel annoyed again. Why are you here pestering me? “Where’s Anya this morning?”
 
“She’s at the magic shop on a crusade to sell anything she can get someone to buy,” sighed Xander, exasperated. “She’s more interested in money than me today.”
 
“Well, I was just going to head over there now to talk to Giles. Nothing much going on around here.”
 
Just then Joyce came in, looking at her watch. “Dawn!” she shouted. “I’m leaving!” Upon hearing no response, Joyce threw up her hands and gave up. “Buffy, I’ve got to go. Tell your sister she’s on her own.” With that, she grabbed her purse and left, closing the door firmly behind her.
 
Buffy suddenly realized that she could kill two irritating birds with one car-shaped stone. “Xander, if you want to help, could you take Dawn to the library on the way to the Magic Box. She can meet us there afterward.”
 
Xander frowned. As usual, all he was good for was being a gofer or a chauffeur. “Sure,” he mumbled.
 
What’s his problem? Buffy wondered. Rolling her eyes she ran upstairs to Dawn’s room. She marched in, and grabbed the covers off of her sister with one jerk. “Get. Up. NOW!” she yelled, causing Dawn to sit up and scramble backward in alarm.
 
“Buffy, chill, ok? I’m getting up!” Dawn got to her feet and backed away toward her dresser.
 
“We are leaving in fifteen minutes,” Buffy barked. “And you are coming. I don’t care if I have to knock you cold and drag you to the library in your pajamas. So get your ass moving!” Buffy turned and stomped out the door.
 
Spurred to action by fear, Dawn scrambled into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and brushed her hair quickly. She filled her backpack with the books and notebooks she would need and rushed downstairs to find her sister pacing and tapping her feet impatiently, and Xander looking grumpy and miserable. She grabbed a package of pop tarts to eat in the car. “Ok, I’m ready,” Dawn said, grabbing her jacket.
 
“’Bout time,” snarled Buffy, stalking out the door. Dawn and Xander followed, making their way down to Xander’s car. Xander started the car and made his way toward the Sunnydale Town Library. Buffy seemed in a foul mood, and Dawn was practically dozing in the back seat. If I looked like Riley you’d probably actually notice that the car isn’t being driven by a robot, he fumed silently.
 
The ride continued in silence until they got to the library. As Dawn got out, Buffy said, “When you’re done, come over to the Magic Box, ok?”
 
“Yes, sir,” grumbled Dawn. She thanked Xander for the ride, shouldered her backpack, and made her way slowly into the library.
 
“She is being such a slug today,” Buffy growled as they drove on to the Magic Box. “She slept all damn day yesterday, and she still claims she’s tired. Try patrolling all night, then tell me about tired.”
 
“You know, I could help you with that,” Xander ventured. “I’m pretty strong, and I’ve been working with you for long enough that I can contribute to the whole Slayage thing.”
 
Buffy scoffed. “Xander, no offense, but I don’t need someone under foot who’s going to need protection.”
 
It was Xander’s turn to get angry. “Excuse me for not being some chemically enhanced jock like Riley!” he ranted. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get into ‘turn me into a chemical superman’ school. Hell, you respect Spike more than me, and he doesn’t even have a pulse! All he has is that stupid leather coat and those abs!”
 
Buffy stared at him like he had three heads. “What are you talking about?” she asked, baffled. “Who the hell brought Riley into this? I never wanted him on patrol either. And what’s Spike got to do with it?” Did he see us somehow? Could he possibly know?
 
“Admit it – you let him hang around because it’s better than having to look at a pathetic piece of crap like me all day. Fangboy keeps the same hairstyle since 1980 and everyone falls at his feet. I could get the latest and greatest of everything and I’d still get ignored.”
 
“Who’s falling at his feet?” Buffy responded. “Sounds like you’re spending more time looking at him than anyone else!” Ok, not strictly true, but you don’t really need to know that.
 
“Go ahead, accuse me of being gay, again,” Xander grumbled. “Giles is a tweedy librarian and no one doubts his manhood. You and the guys from work, you’re all the same. If I’m not grunting and sweating like a Neanderthal, I must be gay.”
 
Buffy had no idea what Xander was going on about. “Xander, I don’t know what the hell is up with you, but I really don’t need this right now. You’re one of the gang, we want you around, and given the fact that you live with a woman, we’re pretty sure you’re not gay. So would you just get over whatever your issue is today?” Or I swear to God I’m going to knock your teeth down your annoying whiny throat.
 
“Fine. Whatever,” mumbled Xander, shutting down. They rode the rest of the way to the Magic Box in tense silence.
 
******************
 
Spike woke around eleven in the morning. His sheets were sticky with come. He had occasionally been woken by wet dreams in the past, but the previous night had been a non-stop pornographic movie in his head. Sex with the Slayer hadn’t quelled his lust in the slightest. He was slightly dismayed by the state of his bed. Is it possible for vampires to dehydrate from this? he wondered. He felt more exhausted than he could ever remember feeling. And despite the insane number of times he had climaxed in the night, he was still hard as a rock this morning.
 
On shaky legs he made his way to the shower. He turned the cold water on full, scrubbing and shampooing, and trying to think about something, anything that could turn off the painful state of arousal. Imagine Dru screwing that chaos demon, he told himself. That stupid cow Cecily, turning you down. Angel in a tutu. It was no use. For every unpleasant image he could muster, he found another pleasant one right behind it, mostly featuring the Slayer. She tasted so fine, like wine, like truffles from Paris. Her skin… He sighed. There was nothing for it but to bring himself off again, jerking and gasping as his spendings washed down the drain.
 
Temporarily relieved, he stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and hunted for some clothes. He stripped his bed, and found his spare set of sheets. Probably have to burn these others, he thought, handling them with slight distaste. He supposed it was rather strange for a creature who was technically dead to be fussy about bedding. But what if she comes back? What if the next round is down here? Can’t have the bint so disgusted that she leaves. Memories of the previous night flooded back in, and his state of arousal returned.
 
“Dammit, what is it about her?” he growled aloud to himself. “You’d think she was the only female on earth from the way you’re acting!” He paced a few more times, trying to calm himself. Finally, he gave up. He had to see her. He was going to go insane hanging around here alone all day. He threw on his duster and lit a cigarette, smoking furiously as he stalked off through the tunnels to the Magic Box.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: All the stuff you know and recognize belongs to Joss Whedon.
Thank you reviewers! Your reward is another chapter!
 
Chapter 7: Convergence
 
Giles was slightly dismayed to find Anya already hard at work when he arrived at the Magic Box in the morning. He had been looking forward to a quiet cup of tea and the morning paper before having to deal with the others. “Morning, Giles!” chirped Anya.
 
“Good morning, Anya,” Giles replied. He put his newspaper down on the counter and surveyed the room. Anya had brought out additional stock and made up a few displays on side tables marked ‘Special Price!’ Apparently ‘special’ in this case meant ‘higher than normal’. Then he noticed that even more candles had been added to the candle display. “Anya, do you realize that not all of these candles are the same? Some are enchanted with love charms, but some are designed to ward off undesirable people. If someone were to light them both at once, they could find themselves repelling their intended.”
 
“Well, the sign just says ‘enchanted’. It doesn’t exactly specify what enchantment, so it’s not like we’re really lying.”
 
“Anya, I insist that you label these things properly and keep them separate. And why are these other candles marked down?”
 
“They had some sort of sticky stuff on them. Maybe something leaked in the basement. But since they’re a little gross, I thought we could get rid of them if we marked them down.”
 
“But if you don’t know what’s on them, how do you know it’s nothing dangerous?” Giles inquired. “What in heaven’s name has gotten into you lately?”
 
“Giles, we need to make more money around here. If we don’t, then how are we ever going to each have enough when we make the business a partnership?”
 
“A partnership?” Giles was flabbergasted. “Anya, when did I ever give you the impression that I was going to take you on as a business partner?”
 
“It’s inevitable. You need someone with good financial sense and drive. I supply that, you supply the magical knowledge and the wise old sage image, and…”
 
“This has gone far enough,” Giles snapped, bristling at being characterized as a ‘wise old sage’. “This is my store, and I will decide what gets sold. Now kindly separate those candles and label them. And no more selling those books of curses! I know you sold some yesterday, and we’ve been over this before. They are dangerous.”
 
Anya rolled her eyes. “Giles, the people I sold them to didn’t have a magical bone in them. I can sense these things.”
 
“Anya…” warned Giles.
 
“Fine. But when you go broke and can never retire, don’t come crying to me,” she said. Irritated, she started sorting out the candles on the counter while Giles went in the back to make his morning tea. As she worked, Anya noticed the headline in the local Sunnydale Times. “College students homeless after early morning fire” it read. Anya looked closely at the pictures. One picture showed the neighbors out watching the fire being extinguished. One of the neighbors was the little old lady she had sold the book of curses to the day before. Anya read the article more carefully. The neighbor, a Mrs. Neilson, was quoted as saying, “Those college kids were always making noise and partying all night. It doesn’t surprise me at all that they managed to start a fire. “ Anya felt a sudden chill. Was this truly a random coincidence? Or did that little old lady curse her noisy neighbors? Anya wasn’t entirely sure she wanted the answer to that.
 
******************
 
The bell above the door rang around 11:45, heralding the arrival of Xander and Buffy. Buffy went into the back to talk to Giles, leaving Xander and Anya to regard each other awkwardly. Finally, Anya broke the silence. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in the mood for sex this morning,” she blurted out.
 
“Look, let’s just forget it, ok?” said Xander. “I just want to hit the reset button and start over.” He came over and gave her a brief kiss, and she smiled up at him.
 
“Why don’t you help me restock the herb jars?” she asked. “I think there might be a couple extra herbs downstairs that we haven’t tried selling much yet. Maybe if we relabeled them they’d go faster.” Xander sighed inwardly, but followed her downstairs anyway.
 
Giles looked up from his tea as Buffy entered. “Good morning, Buffy,” he said, affection in his voice. “How was patrol last night?”
 
“Fine,” she answered. “Took out a big nest in one of the cemeteries, got a frat boy imposter on the campus, the usual.”
 
“And how are you feeling otherwise?” he ventured.
 
“I don’t know. I’m all tense and angry, and I really don’t know why. I just find everything really irritating today.” She found herself getting angry at having to explain her anger. Would you get a grip? she told herself. “Anyhow, more anger equals better Slayage, I guess.”
 
“Not necessarily,” replied Giles gravely. “If your emotions are blinding you, you may make mistakes.”
 
What, like fucking Spike out of spite? Her face colored slightly, and she got up to pace the office, trying to hide her agitation from Giles. “So what do I do about this anger management problem?”
 
“Have you considered trying some meditation exercises?” Giles asked, watching the pacing girl as if she were a caged beast. Her barely constrained emotions boiled under the surface, and Giles found himself slightly worried.
 
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try,” she sighed. Might take my mind off the vampire that I am sooo not thinking about right now. She left Giles’ office and went into the training room. She felt a little guilty when she saw the heavy bag still in the corner, awaiting replacement. “Maybe we should get Xander to take a look at that later,” she said.
 
“Good idea,” Giles agreed. He sat cross-legged on the mat and invited Buffy to join him. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes – meditation had never been her thing – she sat down facing him. “Now, close your eyes, and focus on your breathing.”
 
Buffy obeyed. She listened to Giles as his soothing voice guided her to slow her breathing, to focus on her heartbeat. She did her best to empty her mind, and to imagine a calming, endless blue sea like Giles told her. But despite all her efforts, she couldn’t maintain the image. The blue of a summer sea became the blue of Spike’s eyes, which led to her thinking about his smirk, his swagger, and his wicked, extremely talented tongue. The memory of having given herself to him caused the anger to flare anew. The calming blue sea in her mind became an endless, red, angry lake of fire. She stopped hearing Giles’ soothing words and heard only her own heart beating faster and faster, her breath quickening, all her senses screaming at her to fight. Finally she could take it no longer, and she jumped up yelling, “This isn’t working!”
 
Giles’ eyes flew open in alarm. “Buffy, it takes a few minutes. You need to give it some more time…”
 
“This is that same sanctimonious crap that Angel used to try to get me to do!” she yelled. “All this inner peace shit does nothing when you’ve got seven vampires at your throat!” She stalked over to the stuffed target dummy that they used for weapons practice and started pounding it with all her might. Giles watched as she reduced the dummy to a pile of wood and stuffing in about five minutes. She stood there, panting, fists clenched, surveying the wreckage with unfocused eyes.
 
After a moment, Giles dared to speak. “Buffy?” He rose to his feet, but did not approach her. Xander and Anya had come to the door when they heard the yelling, but also wisely remained silent, staring in shock at the destruction wrought by an infuriated Slayer.
 
Buffy closed her eyes and kept her fists clenched. “Could everyone please leave, right now,” she said, as calmly as she could.
 
The others backed rapidly out of the room, closing the door behind them. Buffy remained where she was, trying to get herself under control.She ran through her mental list of things that she was worried about. Mom’s health. Glory. Protecting Dawn. Riley leaving. This thing with Spike. She knew that any one of those things would be enough to upset most normal people. No one would deny she had a lot on her plate. But this rage? Why am I so furious? She gradually opened her eyes and unclenched her fists, noticing blood on her palms where her nails had dug in. Slowly she began gathering the pieces of the broken training dummy, trying to sort out her thoughts and completely failing.
 
In the other room, Anya, Xander, and Giles were conferring in hushed voices. “What is Buffy so upset about?” asked Anya. “If she keeps destroying equipment, I hope you’re going to make her pay for it. We can’t keep reducing our profits by replacing everything she trashes.”
 
“Anya!” scolded Xander. “If a friend is upset we help them, not charge them!”
 
Giles took off his glasses and pinched his nose. “She says nothing in particular is bothering her. Maybe it’s all just too much right now. I suggest we leave her in peace for a while.” This was easy advice to follow, as none of them were particularly at ease with the idea of confronting her in this state.
 
Their thoughts were interrupted by Willow’s entrance to the shop. Xander instantly picked up on her worried look. “What’s up Wils?”
 
“Tara’s sick,” Willow explained. “She ate some bad leftovers last night and got food poisoning.”
 
“Poor Tara,” said Anya sympathetically. “Is she going to be alright?”
 
“She’s in the campus health center. I’ve been there with her all morning. I tried a spell to help with the nausea, but it didn’t seem to help much. I think it just switched things to the other end, if you get my meaning. But it could just be the food poisoning.”
 
“And that was far more information than I needed, thanks,” said Xander.
 
Giles spoke up, saying, “Willow, do you really think it’s wise to try a spell on someone for the first time when they’re sick? You could have injured her.”
 
“Relax, Giles. It was just a simple anti-nausea spell. And she did stop throwing up, so what’s the problem?” Willow responded.
 
Giles was trying to come up with a good response, when there was a knock on the door. It was five minutes after the store was due to open, and the first customer was there already. Anya hurried over to let them in while the others moved over to the work table to discuss things. “Giles, I’m sorry if I upset you,” Willow began. “I’m not trying to make you mad. I just think I can do much more than you think I can.”
 
Giles took a deep breath. “Look, let’s just try to keep ourselves focused on our current problems. We’re no closing to finding Glory, or determining how we can defeat her than we were before. I am going to consult the Council about this, but I still think there is more we can do. If we could just find a way to… repel her, or otherwise ward her off, at least until we get more information, then we would all rest a little easier.” And if you are focused on Glory I don’t need to worry about you turning Tara into a toad by accident.
 
Buffy came out of the training room at that moment. “Hey guys,” she said shyly. “Sorry for the bad moodiness earlier. Xander, do you think you could take a look at the heavy bag for me? I think we might be able to re-hang it if we can find another spot in the ceiling.”
 
“No problem. Man with tools to the rescue.” Finally, something I can do that they can’t. Better than nothing, I guess.
 
Xander and Willow followed Buffy into the training room. Xander got up on a chair and started peering at the ceiling, while Willow took a look at the sad remains of the training dummy. Concentrating on the dummy, she began chanting under her breath. Buffy’s eyes widened as the pieces started flying through the air and reassembling themselves on the stand. “Woah. Now that was pretty interesting!” Buffy commented.
 
“What was?” asked Xander, turning to look. As he did, the chair rocked and he fell to the ground. Nice job, asshole. You can’t even look at something without hurting yourself. No wonder Buffy doesn’t want you around. To Willow he muttered, “Nice repair job, Wils.”
 
Willow was ecstatic at the success of the spell. “Watch this!” she said excitedly. She muttered the incantation again, causing the heavy bag to fly off the couch, repair itself, and reattach itself to the ceiling once more. Unfortunately, it managed to clip Xander in the head just as he was getting up, knocking him to the ground once more.
 
“Ow!” he grumbled. “That’s just great. So glad you could help. Couldn’t leave at least one thing that I can do around here, could you? Why don’t you just conjure some donuts? Then I’ll truly have no point to my life.”
 
Buffy and Willow looked at each other, perplexed. Then Willow turned to Xander and said, “Donuts? You lost me there.”
 
“Never mind. I’ll just go collect dust in the corner somewhere. I’d probably be good at that.” With that he stomped out of the training room and sat down, sulking, at the research table.
 
Willow and Buffy shrugged at each other. Willow was flying on a magical high. “I’m going to go look up some more healing spells. I need to get my sweetie back on her feet.”
 
Buffy decided it would probably be better if she spent a little more time away from the others, given her continuing foul mood. “Tell Giles I’ll be in here working out, ok?” she said.
 
“Ok, but just spare the furniture! Those fix it spells wear me out!” Willow chirped as she made her way out. Buffy got out every sharp, pointy weapon she could find. Maybe some target practice would do me good.
 
Anya was bustling about tending to customers while Xander sat flipping though the newspaper. Anya had managed to sell a number of her ‘specially priced’ items. At one point a regular customer had complained about the suddenly higher prices, but Anya had managed to smooth it over without Giles overhearing. She threw in a few of the magical candles gratis with the purchase, spinning some tale about suppliers raising their prices and so on. I just hope those were the love candles I gave her. I probably should pay more attention. But any momentary hesitation was blown away by the ever growing total on her receipts. She had to restrain herself from doing the money dance with customers watching.
 
Xander finished the paper and threw it down on the table, pondering what to do next. At that moment, the cellar door opened and Spike swaggered in. And now, my joy is complete, Xander thought bitterly. “What do you want, fangboy?” Xander snarled.
 
Spike took off his duster and threw it over the back of a chair. “Wanted to consult with the Slayer,” he said.
 
Screw him, and his muscles, Xander grumbled to himself. He also realized that the vampire’s jeans were incredibly tight, and from the look of it, he must be hung like a horse. Figures. Some guys have all the luck. “Buffy’s in the training room,” Xander muttered. He thought about warning Spike about Buffy’s temper today, but decided to err on the side of hoping she would dust the annoying undead.
 
Spike smirked at Xander’s staring. “Checking me out, Harris?” he leered. “Sorry, mate, not my type.” Although if this mood keeps up I may get desperate enough to find even a wanker like you attractive.
 
“Fuck you!” Xander growled, standing up. He walked over and shoved Spike back angrily. “Why the hell do you still exist? Buffy should have killed you years ago!” Then I might have had half a chance with her.
 
“Xander!” hissed Anya. “You’re scaring away the customers!” It was true that Xander’s death threats were being met with wide eyes and astonished looks.
 
“Money, money, money!” yelled Xander. “That’s all you care about lately! If I’m not rich enough for you then why don’t you just leave!”
 
“What’s all the shouting about?” asked Giles.
 
“Nothing,” Xander spat out. “I’m worthless, no one listens to me, and I’m apparently not good enough at bringing home the bacon for Anya. My only purpose around here is to be the butt of everyone’s jokes and the gofer. I’m done with this crap.” With that, he stormed out of the door, slamming it with a bang.
 
Willow was alarmed. Xander was usually the last of them to have any sort of major meltdown. “Anya? Shouldn’t you go after him?”
 
Anya hesitated. Then she said, “He was in a bad mood last night too. He was going on and on about how everyone has better everything than him. I’ve got customers to serve. I’ll talk to him when he’s done with his little pity party.” Besides, if I leave Giles will probably mark everything back down and our profits will be shot.
 
Giles was quietly worried. He thought it was just the girls who were acting a little off, but now Xander was joining in. “Willow?” he asked, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “You haven’t cast any spells that could affect someone’s mood, have you?”
 
“What? No!” said Willow. “I’ve been researching, and fixing things, but I haven’t cast any spells on anyone except Tara.” Ok, and a squirrel, but that doesn’t count.
 
“No need to be defensive,” Giles said. “It just seems that everyone is unusually on edge the last day or two.”
 
“I’m not on edge,” said Anya. “I’m enjoying myself thoroughly!” She turned to go persuade more customers to check out the new herb selection.
 
“I think you’re the one who’s been on edge, Giles,” said Willow. “You’ve been twitchy about my magic the last couple days, and I’m really not sure why.”
 
Spike had been listening to all this with amusement. Just like Red to completely ignore any consequences, he thought. Still, he wondered if Giles had a point. I’ve never in all my days been as horny as I have been these last couple days. Bloody unnatural. He sat down at the research table and tried to surreptitiously adjust himself so that his never ending hard-on was more comfortable. Then again, it could just be that this place reeks of Slayer. Enough to get any vamp hard.
 
The door opened again to admit Dawn, who dropped her backpack on the table as if it weighed a ton. She had gone to the library with the best of intentions. She had sat down, pulled out her books, and promptly fell asleep on the desk. She was roused an hour later by the librarian, who reminded her that the library closed at one o’clock on Sundays. She hadn’t gotten around to finding the book she wanted, and no amount of pleading could persuade the librarian to give her two minutes to look for it.
 
“Hey Dawn,” said Willow. “How goes the homework?”
 
Dawn shrugged. “OK, I guess. Hey, Spike,” she said, noticing the vampire.
 
“’Lo, Nibblet,” Spike replied. Dawn was leaning on the table in a way that her slight but noticeable cleavage was right in his line of sight. He found himself struggling to keep from imagining Dawn naked. Been decades since I’ve been with a virgin… He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his own leg as hard as he could under the table, trying to kill this line of thought before it started breeding. This is Dawn we’re talking about here! You know you’d stake yourself before you ever touched her. That is, after the Slayer staked you fifteen times over.
 
Dawn hadn’t noticed Spike’s discomfort, having been rummaging through her backpack for her notebook. She had suddenly gotten an idea. “Spike, were you in Europe during World War I?”
 
“Yeah,” Spike answered. He was torn. He desperately wanted to go find Buffy, but he was so painfully and embarrassingly hard that his inner William shied from getting to his feet in front of Dawn. Best help her with her history lesson for a moment rather than giving her an eyeful.
 
“What was it like in the trenches and all that?” Dawn asked, pencil at the ready. What better way to find this information than to interview someone who was there? I can just write what he says, no strain on my brain at all!
 
“Bloody smorgasbord it was,” Spike remembered. “Mud, blood, shit all over the place. Lots of underground places for a vamp to hide during the day. So many dead bodies everywhere from the mustard gas and the shells and whatnot that a few extra corpses made no difference. Most of the soldiers were barely out of their teens. Scared shitless most of them – you could smell the fear everywhere.” Oh yeah, good times. The memory of all that blood and carnage was almost as arousing as a woman.Keep talking about this and my dick is going to explode in a very large and bloody mess.
 
Dawn took notes, but realized that she couldn’t really directly transcribe what Spike was talking about. She somehow didn’t think her history teacher wanted to hear about the soldiers as dinner. “Ok, but what was it like for the soldiers?” she persisted.
 
“Damn if I know,” said Spike. “Wasn’t one of them really. Just hanging around for the easy meals and general violence. After a week or two I got bored and met Dru in Paris where she had been hanging out and we continued wandering Europe. Thought it was going to be an amusing fight, but it was like shooting fish in a barrel. No challenge in it at all. Just a bunch of bloody fools pounding each other for months over the same mile of ground.”
 
Crap, he’s no help, Dawn thought. He hasn’t given me enough to fill half a page. “Thanks,” she muttered. She flipped open one of the other history books she had and started turning pages unenthusiastically.
 
“Are you feeling ok?” Willow asked. “You seem really draggy today.”
 
“Just not in the mood for World War I today,” Dawn muttered. She yawned, propped her head on her hands and kept flipping through the book.
 
Spike took this opportunity to get up, moving quickly and grabbing his duster to hold it nonchalantly in front of his bulging jeans. “Buffy’s in the back room, is she?” he asked.
 
“Yeah,” Willow answered. “Be warned, she’s all bad-moody today.”
 
Maybe I can change that, he thought. He stepped to the door and opened it slowly. “Slayer? I was wondering…”
 
“I said I needed to be alone!” she shouted, whipping a throwing star in his direction. Only his vampire speed allowed him to avoid getting it in the skull. His eyes widened and his erection wilted at the sight of the weapon embedded in the door, inches from his head. Buffy covered her mouth in shock. “Oh my God!” she gasped. “I could have hurt someone! I didn’t mean to throw it!”
 
“Can I come in then?” Spike asked, holding up his hands. “Just me, yeah?” He closed the door behind him, noticing that Giles had stuck his head out of his office, alarmed at the shouting.
 
Buffy was shaking slightly. If that had been one of the others I could have killed them! She sat down on the couch, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering at the thought.
 
God, I could shag her right here. Spike nearly closed his eyes to bask in the intoxicating scent of the Slayer.  He approached her slowly and tentatively. “You alright now?” he inquired.
 
“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong today,” she muttered. “What did you want?”
 
To fuck you eight ways to Sunday, actually. Somehow, Spike didn’t think that response was going to fly. But he needed some pretense to get her away from here. Thinking quickly, he said, “I was thinking of going down to Willie’s and poking around to see if any of Glory’s minions had been spotted anywhere. She might be hiding out, but she’d have to send someone out to get stuff for her.”
 
Buffy looked up. “That’s actually a really good idea. And I need to get out of here before I break something else.” Or kill someone by accident.
 
They went back out into the other room. “Spike and I are going to go ask around Willie’s to see if anyone has seen any of Glory’s minions around. Dawn, can you call Mom at the gallery and see if she’ll pick you up?”
 
Dawn had been half dozing, but she sat up at the sound of her name and said, “Yes, call mom. Got it.”
 
“Don’t strain yourself,” Buffy muttered.
 
“I never thought about looking for the minions!” said Willow. “I’m going to have to try a locator spell on them!”
 
“I’ll work with you on that,” said Giles, wanting to keep tabs on the overconfident Witch. “How will you be getting to Willie’s?”
 
“Tunnels, if the Slayer’s willing,” said Spike. Buffy assented and they went down to the basement, slipping through the trapdoor into the tunnel system.
 
******************************
 
As they walked through the tunnels toward the demon bar, Spike found he could barely move, he was so swollen with need. He tried to concentrate on something else as they walked, splashing through puddles with their footsteps echoing around them. Finally he could bear it no longer and stopped. “Slayer.”
 
“What is it, Spike?” she asked, stopping to face him.
 
“I… it’s just that…” Oh bollocks. Without thinking he grabbed her shoulders and, as before, pulled her into a searing kiss.
 
“Mmm hmmm mmm!” Buffy started to protest. But then one of Spike’s hands found her breast and expertly tweaked her nipple, sending a shock like electricity straight to her sex. Damn him! she thought, but found her hands snaking around the back of his head to tangle in his white curls.
 
Spike ground his painfully hard crotch into hers, his free hand moving down to grab her luscious ass. She is going to kill me for this. He groaned as her tongue clashed with his. Fuck it. I’ll dust a happy man.
 
He expertly slid his hand down to unfasten her jeans. Buffy gasped and moaned as his fingers found her clit; rubbing, twisting and pinching until she could hardly stand. She fumbled with his belt and zipper and he groaned loud enough to echo in the tunnel as she wrapped her hot hand around his solid erection. He shoved at her jeans and she squirmed out of them without missing a stroke. He reached down and grabbed her ass again, hauling her up to wrap her legs around his waist. She clutched at his hair and threw her head back as he guided himself into her. She cried out incoherently as his enormous cock filled her. She started to ride him, using her supernatural strength to grip him, inside and out.
 
He spun and shoved her against the wall of the tunnel, pounding her as hard as he could. Buffy reached up to grab a pipe running overhead to steady herself as she panted and cried out again and again. Oh God he’s so big feels so good gonna come oh God… As the orgasm ripped through her she pulled hard enough to break the pipe, causing a cascade of water to pour down on them. Spike never stopped.  The sight of her now wet t-shirt clinging to her breasts and accentuating her nipples drove him over the edge. “Holy fuck!” he yelled as he came, mashing his lips into hers and jerking over and over.
 
Incredibly, he realized he was still hard, still locked deliciously inside her. She arched off the wall, causing him to fall backward to land flat on his back in a puddle. Buffy kept riding him, and he reached down to rub circles around her clit while she ground herself into him. When her heartbeat and breathing began to quicken once more he suddenly sat up, vamped, and sank his fangs into her breast. “Spike, God, Spike!” she screamed, and once more her mind was blotted out by the lighting storm of the climax. Spike took three long sips then threw his head back and roared as he thrust into her one final time, coming so hard he felt he would turn inside out. Finally he fell back onto the floor of the tunnel, his human face returning as he panted and gasped. Buffy collapsed onto his chest in a near faint, struggling to get control of her breathing.
 
They lay insensible for several minutes before Buffy slowly hauled herself upright. Both of them groaned as she moved and his cock pulled out of her. Buffy was completely drenched, naked from the waist down, her blond hair plastered to her head like she had been in a rainstorm. Spike was still almost completely dressed, but he was soaked and muddy from being on the ground, with his finally softened cock hanging out of his open jeans. Buffy straddled his legs, still breathing hard, and regarded him with her perplexed green eyes.
 
“You alright, love?” he asked quietly. I may never walk again. But given that you’re probably going to stake me about now, I guess that’s not a big problem.
 
His voice broke her state of shock and she rapidly scrambled to her feet. “Damn you!” she cried as she snatched her soaking wet jeans off the floor and pulled them on. “We’re not supposed to be doing this! What the fuck is going on?”
 
Spike got to his feet and reassembled his jeans. “Fuck if I know! Bloody expected you to slay me after the first time.” He mentally slapped himself. Would you shut the fuck up, William?
 
“I should have!” Buffy snapped, trying to do something with her hair and failing.
 
“So why didn’t you?” Spike retorted, staring her down.
 
“Because it was fucking incredible, you asshole!” she screamed. “You totally blew every other sexual experience I’ve ever had clear out of the water, and it pisses me off!”
 
Spike boggled at her. “What the hell are you on about, Slayer?”
 
“I couldn’t have that sort of experience with a nice normal guy. Noooo. The nice normal guys are either cheating little bastards or Army circus freaks. If I want to get laid, I have to screw my mortal enemy!”
 
“You think it’s easy being a vampire in my position?” he yelled back. “Most of the vamps and demons in town either won’t speak to me or are actively trying to kill me because I’ve gone over to your side. I’m supposed to be killing slayers, not lusting after them to the point that I can barely fucking sleep!”
 
They stared at each other, both of their eyes blazing with emotion. Buffy had no idea how to react. She couldn’t slay him. Not after this. But she couldn’t face the others with him leering after her either. In the end, she fell back on what had worked in the past. She punched him in the nose and took off back to the Magic Box.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: Not my vampires, alas. Joss Whedon gets all the money and whatnot. I just get to play a little.
Thank you kind reviewers for inspiring me to continue!
 
******************
 
Chapter 8: Divergence
 
Anya was busily ringing up a customer when Joyce came to pick up Dawn. “Thank you for shopping the Magic Box! Come back soon – we’re getting new things in every day!” She gleefully eyed the money in the till and had to restrain herself from taking it all out and cuddling it. Noticing Joyce, she quickly closed the cash drawer and said, “Hi! Are you here to shop, or just get Dawn? We’ve got some great deals today!”
 
Joyce smiled. “Sorry, just here to get Dawn today.” She looked over at the research table where Willow was deep in a book and Dawn was deep asleep, with her head on a book. Joyce frowned a bit. “Dawn, are you going to sleep for the rest of the year?”
 
“Huh?” Dawn mumbled, opening her eyes and sitting up. She realized she had drooled a bit on her history book. “Oh, hi mom,” she muttered, trying to wipe away the drool without anyone noticing.
 
“Gather your things up. I’m just going to go in and talk to Giles for a moment,” Joyce said, her frown deepening. Dawn sluggishly started to obey her mother while Joyce went into Giles’ office.
 
“Joyce,” said Giles, automatically standing up to welcome her. “What brings you here? How are you feeling?”
 
“Feeling a bit better every day, Giles. Thanks for asking.” She looked back into the other room at Dawn, who was chatting a bit with Willow as she gathered her things. “Giles, I’m terribly worried about the girls.”
 
“What about?” asked Giles. Perhaps he wasn’t crazy in thinking that the young people were acting oddly today.
 
“Dawn has done nothing but sleep for the past two days! She doesn’t seem sick – no fever, and her appetite is fine. But, well you just saw her! She keeps dozing off everywhere, won’t concentrate on anything. She’s been incredibly lazy as well, won’t do the simplest chores or anything. And Buffy has been in the foulest mood I’ve ever seen her in.”
 
“I’ve noticed that too,” Giles put in. “She practically destroyed the training room earlier. It’s like her Slayer half is on overdrive. Some of the others have been acting odd as well. Anya and Xander have been fighting, Tara went on an eating binge that led to food poisoning…”
 
“Is she alright?” Joyce asked, concerned.
 
“She will be. But Willow’s been experimenting on Tara with magic, and I’m not sure if that has affected anything or not.” Giles responded.
 
“What is with everyone?” Joyce asked.
 
“I haven’t figured it out yet, I’m afraid,” Giles admitted. “But I plan to keep researching. Perhaps some aftereffect from one of Willow’s spells, or someone with a grudge going after the Slayer.”
 
“Well, please let me know if there is anything I can do. I’m so worried…”
 
Joyce and Giles jumped as the basement door slammed open. They rushed out to see Buffy entering, soaked to the skin and looking completely bedraggled. Joyce came up to her and said, “Buffy? What happened? Are you hurt?”
 
How do I spin this one? “Spike and I we… tussled with a demon in the tunnels. Some black, shiny thing, hard to see. We defeated it, but Spike had to go home for some dry clothes as well.” Ok, there was a tussle with a demon dressed in a black, shiny coat. Not a total lie. Buffy hoped they didn’t ask too many more questions.
 
“Was the demon somehow related to Glory, do you think?” Giles inquired. He was desperate for any sort of lead on the hell god.
 
“I just told you it was hard to see,” snapped Buffy. “I told you what I know. Can I please go get out of the wet clothes now?” She could feel her blood pressure rising again.
 
“We were just getting ready to leave,” said Joyce quietly. “Come on, Dawn.”
 
Dawn yawned, waved a lazy goodbye to Anya and Willow, and shuffled off to the car. Buffy stomped off behind her, squelching and dripping. Joyce caught Giles’ glance, who nodded and said, “I’ll check into it and let you know, Joyce.”
 
“Thank you, Giles,” said Joyce warmly, as she left the shop to follow the girls.
 
Willow looked at Giles with a questioning glance. “What was that all about?” she inquired.
 
“I am wondering if there is some sort of magic at work. Buffy’s temper seems completely out of control, and Dawn seems unusually sluggish. Joyce is concerned about them.” And I’ve got my doubts about the rest of you, Giles added silently.
 
“If it is magic, it was probably a spell someone cast on their house or something, since only they are affected,” Willow reasoned. “I could go over there later and do a spell to detect any magical signatures.”
 
“I am not sure that would be wise, Willow,” Giles said as gently as he could. He was a little dismayed that Willow saw her current behavior as normal. “If such a spell isn’t done correctly, it could intensify the effects of any spells in the area.”
 
“Giles, what is your problem today?” Willow exploded. “You’ve been acting like I’m completely incompetent all day! Jeez, I fixed the training room, I helped Tara, what more do I have to do to show you that I know what I’m doing?”
 
“Willow!” Giles snapped. He took off his glasses and tried to get himself under control. “You have not been properly trained. It is very easy to think you have full control of the magic but without proper training that control is tenuous at best.” He pointed his glasses at her as he emphasized, “You must stop using magic casually until you have completely mastered it.”
 
Willow’s expression darkened. “I’ve mastered more power than you can even think of,” she retorted. “Besides, you’re not my watcher. So just point those glasses somewhere else!” With that she gestured at Giles and muttered a quick incantation.
 
She had meant to make the glasses disappear from his hand and reappear on his nose. She imagined that would shut him up. Instead, Giles cried out, startled, as he found himself holding a white mouse by the tail instead of his glasses. “Bloody hell!” he yelled, dropping the mouse. Anya shrieked, and the mouse ran frantically along the floor, disappearing under the door to basement.
 
“Oops,” said Willow quietly. That was a really cool transformation. Too bad it wasn’t exactly what I intended.
 
“This is exactly what I am talking about!” Giles roared.
 
“Giles I’m so so sorry!” Willow babbled. “I just meant to put them back on your nose I swear! I don’t know how it could have gone wrong, I knew the spell, I just…”
 
“Enough!” Giles barked. “From now on you will do no spells in my presence without my express permission or so help me you are banned from this store. Do you understand?”
 
“Yes, Giles,” Willow mumbled. Not like you could stop me anyhow, she thought defiantly.
 
“Good. Now, you are going to drive me to my apartment to get my spare glasses, since my other pair just left the building!” he said angrily. “Anya, mind the store, would you? And remember what we discussed earlier.” He fixed her with a pointed stare until she rolled her eyes and said, “Yes, yes, I know. Don’t sell any books of curses, blah, blah.” Giles sighed, started to say something, then gave up. “Let’s go. I can’t do a bloody thing until I can see clearly,” he said to Willow.
 
Willow followed Giles meekly out of the store. As soon as the door shut behind them, Anya rubbed her hands with glee. Ok, customers, come to Anya. Her prayers were rewarded a few minutes later when a pair of geeky looking college age guys entered the store. “Hi! Welcome to the Magic Box! Anything in particular you were looking for?”
 
The two looked around furtively, to see if anyone else was in the store. The dark haired one came up to the counter and said in a low voice, “We really need a Hand of Glory. Do you sell those?”
 
“I do have one, but those are pretty dangerous. Do you know what you’re doing with them?”
 
“I just want one because I think they look cool,” he replied. His blond friend started to say something but was silenced by an elbow and a muttered, “Just stay out of this Andrew.”
 
Anya frowned. Not sure if I trust these guys. Then she said, “I don’t know. These are very expensive. We’re asking $200, and you’ll have to leave your name and address so that if there are any problems we can trace them back to you.”
 
The dark haired kid pondered for a minute. “Ok, where do I sign?” Anya handed him an index card and watched as he wrote ‘Jonathan Levinson’ and a campus address. The blond was practically skipping with excitement as Anya wrapped up the purchase. “Remember, if I hear about anyone being affected by a spell you guys cast, I am giving your name to the police, got it?”
 
“Yeah, we got it,” Jonathan said, a little nervously. Then they both scampered out, giggling like a couple of kids in a candy store.
 
Two hundred dollars! Yes! Anya thought. She gleefully counted the money in the drawer again – they were doing fantastic today! She heard the bell ring and quickly put the money back as Giles returned. “Hi Giles, where’s Willow?”
 
“I dropped her off so she could check on Tara at the health center. Anything to report?”
 
“No, nothing exciting,” Anya lied. She figured what Giles didn’t know about the Hand of Glory wouldn’t hurt him. Hands of Glory could be used to freeze enemies in their tracks, which could be bad in the wrong hands. But it took a pretty skilled practitioner to actually use them, so those two bumblers would probably be safe. She hoped.
 
*******************
 
Tara had spent most of the morning either throwing up or in the bathroom. She didn’t have the heart to tell Willow that the spell had indeed made things worse. By noon her stomach had finally settled down, and she had dozed off for a while. When she woke, however, she found that the hunger had returned with a vengeance. She buzzed for the nurse and said, “Can I get something to eat? Now that I’m all empty, I’m really hungry all of a sudden.”
 
The nurse frowned. “We’ll try you on some chicken broth and see if you can keep that down. But nothing else for right now.” The nurse left the room and returned in ten minutes with a mug of steaming chicken broth. “Take it easy, and let me know if you feel nauseous again. You really did a number on your system with those leftovers young lady.”
 
“Thank you,” Tara said. She tentatively sipped the broth. Mmm. That is pretty tasty. She finished it in a few minutes and then waited. Her stomach rumbled a bit, but then settled. I should be fine. Maybe I can get something else.
 
When the nurse returned, Tara said, “Can I get some more? That was really good.”
 
“Let’s give it a half hour or so, make sure it stays down, ok?” the nurse advised. Tara reluctantly agreed, but found the hunger growing. After about 10 minutes she got up. Her legs were a little shaky, but they had removed the IV so she could at least move around freely. She went to the door and looked out. There was no one in the hall. She slowly walked down toward the nurse’s station, keeping an eye out for anyone who might question her. Fortunately, everyone seemed busy. There was a small break room a few doors down from hers. Seeing that it was empty, she went in and shut the door. She looked in the small fridge and found a turkey sandwich that was clearly someone’s lunch. She grabbed it and hiding it in the folds of her hospital gown snuck back down to her room. She went into the bathroom and closed the door, tearing open the sandwich and wolfing it down. Oh man, I needed that. So yummy…
 
She hid the wrappings in the bottom of the trash can and went back to her bed. The nurse came in shortly afterward and said, “How are you feeling?”
 
Tara was about to say ‘Just fine’ when her stomach started rumbling again. The nurse took one look at her and grabbed for a basin, making it just in time before Tara threw up again. The nurse shook her head. “I think we should talk to the doctor about putting that IV back in. You don’t seem ready for food just yet, I’m afraid.” She passed Tara a glass of water and left to go consult the doctor.
 
Tara drank the water and groaned. Why, oh why did I do that? Am I insane? She lay back and closed her eyes as her stomach made more unpleasant noises. Oh shut up, you, she thought. You’re the one who got me into this mess. She lay there, fighting a battle against nausea, until she dozed off once more.
 
***************
Poor old thing. Gonna need to treat you to a trip to the cleaners soon. Spike was using a towel to remove various forms of muck from the back of his beloved duster. As he worked on his coat, he winced occasionally at the pain in the bridge of his nose. Why the fuck does she always go for the nose? I’d welcome a kick in the balls just for a change of pace. Scratch that, knowing her she’d probably kick them up into my lungs. After the Slayer had run off, he realized the futility of following her until she calmed down. He had returned to his crypt, showered and changed into some dry clothes, and commenced babying his duster. After he cleaned it, he carefully laid it over a chair to dry for a while, thinking about its previous owner. Nikki Wood. She was hot. That Chinese girl was okay, but Nikki, she was a live wire.
 
Again? For the love of Christ! Thinking about Nikki had caused his erection to return once more. He never thought he would ever say this, but he was getting a bit tired of being aroused constantly. It was exhausting. Yet even after coming twice in quick succession with the Slayer he was still raring to go again. He threw himself on the bed, trying to rest for a while, but it was no use. He found himself jacking off yet again, thinking about Nikki, about Buffy, imagining having both of them at once. Slayer sandwich. Too bad you only get one at a time. Of course that Faith chick is still out there somewhere… The fantasy did its work and he came, fortunately missing his last remaining clean pair of jeans. He panted as he lay there. This is very, very odd. Giles is right. There is something weird happening around here. He wondered if they would figure it out before he wanked himself into a large pile of dust.
 
TBC

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon. I get nothing but satisfaction from borrowing them.
Continued thanks to the reviewers who brighten my day!
 
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Chapter 9: Fission

***********************
 
Anya got home around six, to find Xander at the table surrounded by a collection of empty beer bottles. He had driven all over Sunnydale trying to calm himself down. But all he saw were nicer cars than his, nicer houses than his, and people who looked better than he did. Cali-fucking-fornia. All the Shiny Happy People in the universe concentrated in one place. He drove past his parents’ house, taking in the unkempt lawn, the trim that needed painting. Of course Dad won’t do anything around the house now that his free labor moved out. No wonder I’m such a loser. I was bred and raised by losers. There must be a dominant Loser gene in the whole Harris line. Finally he gave up and stopped at a liquor store.
 
Through bloodshot eyes he looked up at Anya, trying to get it down to one image of her, settling for one and a half Anyas as the best his blurred vision could manage. “So you’re home. Run out of things to sell?”
 
“You’re drunk,” Anya said needlessly. “What’s the point of earning all this money if you’re going to drink it all up in one afternoon?” Disgusted, she turned to go into the bedroom.
 
Xander leaped up, scattering bottles, and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. “This is my money too! The apartment’s in my name,” he yelled. “No one else’s girlfriend treats them like this. Everyone else I know has a girlfriend who actually loves them for more than money and sex!”
 
“Fuck you, Xander!” Anya screamed back. “Do your friends with these perfect girlfriends spend all their days worrying about other women? Or am I the only one so blessed?”
 
“What the hell do you mean, other women?”
 
“Willow. Buffy. I could be bleeding on the street and you’d step over me if Willow had a hangnail. We could be in the middle of having sex and if Buffy called, you’d be out the door before you zipped your pants!” Anya retorted.
 
“That’s not true and you know it!” Xander barked. At the same time, a small sober corner of his brain started flashing a warning. Do you even know what you’re fighting about? What the hell is this all about? This is Anya! Shut up before you wreck this forever!
 
“I’m done with this,” Anya said finally. She marched into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Xander pounded on the door and begged her to come out and talk to him, but there was no reply. Anya had grabbed her two large suitcases from the closet and rapidly filled them with all her clothes and jewelry. She took the money from under the mattress, as well as all the change on Xander’s dresser. She grabbed the savings account passbook as well. No way is he getting his hands on this. She opened the door and marched out, shoving Xander aside.
 
“Anya, please, I’m sorry,” Xander pleaded. “Anya I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it’s like I can’t control it would you please listen to me?” He was vaguely aware that tears were forming in his eyes.
 
Anya wavered for a moment, but finally said, “I need a break, Xander. I’m not going to be the punching bag you use to work out your issues. When you’re done being jealous of the entire world and ready to appreciate what you have, let me know.” With that she picked up her bags and walked out.
 
Xander collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, stunned. He reached for the last beer, and drank it with tears running down his face and blank eyes staring at the closed door.
 
********************
 
Tara woke from her doze when Willow entered her room. “Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling?” Willow said warmly, kissing Tara on the forehead and stroking her hair.
 
“Still nauseous,” said Tara. “But now I’m hungry again. I tried having something to eat earlier. Big mistake.”
 
“How can you still be hungry? I would think that you’d be off your lunch for a month after this episode,” Willow joked.
 
“I don’t know, Will,” said Tara. “I’ve never been like this. It’s like something is driving me to eat, regardless of whether I need to or not.”
 
“You know, Giles is worried that Dawn and Buffy might be under some sort of spell. I wonder if he could be on to something.”
 
Tara sat up a bit. “You… you didn’t cast any sort of spell on them, did you?”
 
Willow was instantly irritated. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? It’s not like I go around cursing my friends for fun!”
 
“Hey, relax, ok?” Tara soothed. “It’s just that you’ve been trying a lot of new spells lately, and they don’t always come out 100% perfect. No one is accusing you of hurting people on purpose.”
 
Willow was somewhat mollified by Tara’s reassurance. “I could do a spell to see if you are under the influence of magic. Then we’d know for sure if it was something beyond your control or not.”
 
Tara hesitated. “Willow, I don’t want you to feel I don’t trust you, but right now I feel so crappy that I’m afraid magic might make it worse.”
 
“Tara, please?” Willow begged. “All I’m going to do is a detection spell. If you’re being affected by a spell, you should glow, that’s all.” Giles’ warning about intensifying the effect if she screwed it up echoed softly in the back of her mind, but she firmly ignored it.
 
Tara still seemed reluctant. “I don’t know, Willow…”
 
“Just relax,” Willow said, dismissing Tara’s doubts. Willow closed her eyes and concentrated. “May all spells reveal their power!” she spoke in a deep voice.
 
For a moment, nothing happened. No glow settled on Tara, nothing odd occurred. Willow was relieved. “Well, at least we know it’s nothing supernatural…”
 
Suddenly Tara clutched her stomach and groaned. I thought I was hungry before, but now… She literally felt as if she had been without food for a month. Her stomach cramped and growled, and she doubled up in misery. “Willow?”
 
Willow flew to her side. “Tara, baby, what is it?”
 
“I’m hungry. I’m so hungry it hurts. Please, get me something, anything. I need something in my stomach now!”
 
Willow rummaged in her purse and found a granola bar. Tara snatched it and wolfed it down, the food easing the pain only slightly. “Please, more. I really need something more,” Tara moaned.
 
Willow dashed out to the nurse’s station. “My girlfriend says she’s really hungry. Is there anything we can give her?”
 
The nurse looked curiously at Willow. “I know she’s hungry, but she just got over food poisoning. Giving her a lot to eat right now is just going to upset her stomach again. I can bring her some jello in a few minutes though.”
 
“Please do,” Willow said. She returned to Tara’s room to find Tara rifling her purse. Tara had found a pack of mints in the bottom and had chewed through all of them, and was now looking to see if anything else edible could be found. “Tara, relax! They’re going to bring you some jello, ok?”
 
“It hurts, Willow!” Tara repeated. “If this is what famine feels like then I am donating every spare cent I have to Oxfam or something because this is torture.”
 
Willow stroked Tara’s hair while her mind raced. Could it really have been my spell that did this? Is she really under some magical influence? Did I just make it worse? She didn’t want to believe that she could do something to hurt the woman she loved. I’m a better witch than this! How could this have happened?
 
When the nurse came in with the jello, Tara practically snatched it from her hands. She gobbled it down in four spoonfuls while the nurse watched with wide eyes. “Slow down there! You’re just going to make yourself sick again,” scolded the nurse.
 
“Please, I need some more. Can I have some more?” Tara sounded like a female version of Oliver Twist.
 
“Ok, but you need to take it easy,” said the nurse. A few minutes later she appeared with another bowl of jello, which disappeared as rapidly as the first. She left, shaking her head as Tara lay back.
 
“Any better?” asked Willow hopefully.
 
“Not much,” Tara admitted. She seemed to be winning the nausea battle, but the hunger was barely dented. Tara tossed about on the bed for a few minutes, then sat up. “I need to get out of here,” she said. She pulled the IV needle out of her arm with a wince.
 
“Tara, what are you doing?” Willow asked, alarmed.
 
Tara got up, swayed slightly, and made her way to the closet where her clothes were. She threw open the door and started getting dressed. The nurse came back while she was pulling on her shirt. “Where do you think you’re going?” she inquired. “You’re in no shape to be up and about.”
 
“I need to go home,” Tara said, fighting back her lightheadedness. “The fever is gone, and I seem to be keeping the jello down. I just… need to go.” With that Tara made her way out the door, leaving the nurse stunned behind her.
 
Willow chased after her. “Tara? Are you sure this is a good idea?”
 
“I’m going to go crazy if I don’t get some food. Now.” Tara replied. She headed, still somewhat unsteadily, toward the nearest campus dining hall. Willow followed her as she got in line and loaded up her tray with soup, chili, two sandwiches, a plate of pasta, and three different pieces of pie. Willow stared in amazement as she carried this enormous pile shakily to a table and started eating like there was no tomorrow.
 
“Tara, stop!” Willow said frantically. “You need to stop this!”
 
Tara all but snarled at Willow. “This is my food. I’m eating it. Get your own, or get away from me. Your stupid spell made me hungrier than ever, and if you can’t deal with the consequences of that then just leave me alone so I can eat.” With that she returned to scarfing down her meal.
 
Willow was stunned. Tara never, ever snapped at her like that. Even when they had disagreed in the past, Tara barely raised her voice. “Tara, baby, something is wrong. Something is very wrong. This isn’t like you at all.”
 
“I said leave me alone!” Tara growled sharply. Her stomach was protesting the sudden infusion, and the nausea was rising again. If someone would just get out of my face so I can concentrate on my food then I could maybe get this all down without puking!
 
“I’m going to go talk to Giles,” Willow said, backing away slightly. “We’ve got to figure this out.”
 
“Fine. Do that. Just get away from me and stop trying to fix me with your magic. You’re just making it worse,” Tara said angrily. She turned away and reached for a piece of pie.
 
Biting back hurt tears, Willow turned and left the cafeteria, heading once more for the Magic Box.
 
*****************
 
Joyce turned the car into the driveway. “Dawn! Are you asleep again?” she asked incredulously. Dawn had dozed off in the back seat during the ten minute drive from the Magic Box.
 
Dawn sat up. “I was just closing my eyes for a minute,” she said. She grabbed her backpack and followed her mother and sister inside.
 
Buffy left her wet shoes in the front hall and said, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the shower.” She peeled off her wet clothes and left them in a miserable looking heap on the bathroom floor. She turned the water on as hot as she could stand it and stood there for a while, just letting the water flow down her back, trying to relax. As she started soaping herself, she couldn’t help remembering Spike’s hands on her breasts. Bastard. How did I get here? I’m pissed at life itself and craving a demon. Hello? Vampire slayer? Not supposed to be screwing the prey! Never did get around to reading the Slayer Handbook, but I’m pretty sure that’s probably in there somewhere. She sighed and shampooed her hair, completely failing to come up with a way to solve this dilemma. He was a vampire. She was supposed to slay vampires. She kept having sex with this vampire. Incredible, mind blowing, astronomically good sex. And it was the only thing that was keeping her temper even remotely in check. Shit. Shit. Shit.
 
She turned off the shower and stepped out, toweling off and combing out her hair. She noticed the bite marks on her breast then. Well at least those are easier to hide. She found the ones on her neck had faded to the point where concealer was no longer needed, but clearly she was going to have to have a talk with Mr. Bitey about leaving evidence. Or you could just come to your senses and stop this insanity. Shaking her head, she went to go find some clothes.
 
On her way downstairs she passed Dawn’s room. Dawn had spread out her books on her bed, and was asleep with her head right in the middle of one of them, snoring. Buffy looked at the hall clock. It’s, what, five o’clock? And she’s asleep? She continued down the stairs.
 
Joyce was making dinner as Buffy entered the kitchen. “Is Dawn working on her homework?” she asked.
 
“No,” said Buffy in an irritated tone. “Unless she’s trying to absorb information through her face while she sleeps.”
 
“What on earth could be the matter?” Joyce said, her worry clearly evident. “Giles was wondering if it could be a spell or something.”
 
Buffy grabbed a carrot and munched it while she pondered that idea. “Could be, I suppose. But who would want to cast a spell on Dawn?”
 
“Giles thought that maybe you both were affected,” Joyce said, watching Buffy carefully for her reaction.
 
“What?” Buffy said, cocking her head to the side. “I’m not the one sleeping her life away.”
 
“Yes, but you have been unusually angry lately,” Joyce continued. “Do you even know what you’re so angry about?”
 
“Oh, I don’t know,” Buffy began. “Hmm. My mom was in the hospital, my boyfriend left, and there’s this hell god who wants me dead, what could I possibly be angry about?” Her voice had risen to a near shout.
 
“Now you wait just a minute here,” said Joyce firmly. “I will not have you snapping at me like this. I am only trying to help you.”
 
Buffy exploded. “Help? How is this helping? How is having everyone rag on me when I’m already stressed helping at all?” In a fit of rage she grabbed a vase off the table and flung it at the wall, pulverizing it into a million pieces.
 
“Buffy!” screamed Joyce. Buffy turned on her mother, and Joyce backed away nervously at the red hot fury in her daughter’s eyes.
 
Then Buffy stopped and fisted her hands in her hair. Looking at her mom with terrified eyes she said, “I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t control it. I just… I can’t… I’ve got to go.” She turned and ran out of the house, leaving Joyce stunned in her wake.
 
Joyce went upstairs to check on Dawn, whom she was sure must be cowering in fright from the screaming and the noise. To her dismay, she found Dawn in the same state Buffy had reported – completely passed out on top of her history book. “Dawnie?” she said, shaking her daughter gently. Dawn yawned and rolled over, but otherwise showed no sign of waking up. “Dawn!” Joyce called louder, shaking her even harder. Dawn gave no response whatsoever. She just slept on, unheeding, as her mother’s calls got more frantic.
 
Joyce went running down the stairs to the phone. With shaking fingers she dialed the Magic Box.
 
“Magic Box, this is Giles,” came the voice on the other end.
 
“Oh Giles, something’s wrong,” said Joyce frantically.
 
“Joyce?” Giles replied, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What’s happening?”
 
“I can’t wake Dawn up!” Joyce wailed. “I keep calling and shaking her and she won’t wake up. And Buffy just completely flipped out. She smashed a vase against a wall, and for a second there I truly thought she was going to… hurt me or something.”
 
“Where is Buffy now?” Giles asked. Buffy would never hurt her mother in a million years if she was in her right mind. Something has got to be wrong here.
 
“I don’t know. She ran out the door about ten minutes ago. Giles, what should I do?”
 
“Just stay there and keep watch over Dawn. I’m sure Buffy will come here at some point. I’m going to work on trying to figure out what this spell is that is making them all act so strangely.”
 
“Please keep me informed, Giles,” Joyce said.
 
“I will. I promise.” They said their goodbyes and hung up. Giles started pacing around looking at the books on his bookshelf, trying to figure out where to start. As far as I can tell, Willow, Buffy, Dawn, Anya, Xander, and Tara are all affected by something. A curse maybe? But how could they all get cursed at once? Perhaps when they were together at the Bronze? At Buffy’s house? But why wasn’t Joyce affected? Could have happened here, I suppose, but I wasn’t affected. Hmm.
 
His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. In walked Anya, carrying two large suitcases. “Anya?” said Giles. “Where on earth are you going?”
 
“Giles, can I please just leave these here until I figure out where I’m going?” Anya said, a slight quiver in her voice. “Xander and I… we had a big fight. I don’t know if I’ll be going back there or not.”
 
“Oh dear. What happened?” he asked sympathetically. He took the suitcases and put them in the training room while she followed. She sat down on the couch in there and poured out her tale, crying the whole time.
 
“…so I told him I needed a break. I can’t deal with him being more concerned with what everyone else has than what we have together.” She blew her nose loudly. Giles patted her shoulder awkwardly.
 
“I’m more convinced than ever that some sort of spell or curse is going on around here. You’re all acting very out of character lately.”
 
Anya started guiltily. Could it be that book of curses I sold? The hand of glory? All of her previous reservations about selling dangerous things came flooding back. Did I do something supremely stupid out of greed? She was still trying to come up with a good answer for Giles when the door bell rang again.
 
Willow came dashing in, looking frantic. “Giles! Are you here?”
 
Giles came out of the training room. “Willow? What’s wrong?”
 
“It’s Tara. I…” She swallowed, forcing herself to continue. “I tried to see if she was under a spell.”
 
“After I specifically warned you against using magic?” Giles yelled. “What happened?”
 
“She had stopped throwing up and was hungry. But after the spell, she just went crazy. She left the health center and went to the cafeteria and started eating everything in sight. She’s not herself! I don’t know what to do!” Willow wailed.
 
“Alright, just calm down,” Giles said, trying to soothe the hysterical girl. “Exactly what spell did you do?”
 
“I…um… I did the spell we talked about earlier…” Willow muttered, her face turning as red as her hair.
 
“The one I said would intensify the effects if it went wrong?” Giles said sternly.
 
“Y..yes,” said Willow in a small voice.
 
Giles pinched the bridge of his nose for what felt like the ten thousandth time that day. “Ok. There is clearly some malevolent force at work here. We need to start looking at curses. Who could be cursing us, and how? Willow and Anya, I want you to start by…”
 
Once again Giles was interrupted by the door as Buffy slammed her way in. She marched over to Willow and grabbed her by the collar. “What the fuck did you do?” she snarled.
 
Willow’s eyes grew wide as she squeaked, “Me? I didn’t do anything to you! What are you talking about?”
 
Buffy held on and said, “I just damn near threw a vase at my mother! I don’t know what the fuck is going on but I’m beyond angry, and I don’t think it’s a fucking coincidence that you just happened to be doing ten billion spells this week.”
 
“Buffy!” Giles shouted. “Let her go this instant! She is not to blame for this!”
 
“How do you know, Giles?” Buffy yelled back, still holding Willow by the shirt. “She’s forever throwing spells, never thinks about the aftereffects for a second. Who else could it be?”
 
“Release!” cried Willow, as her eyes darkened and power flowed through her. Buffy found herself flung backward, to end in a sprawled position on the floor.
 
“That is enough!” shouted Giles. Finally, his voice penetrated the red fog in the girls’ brains and they both paused, breathing hard and shaking a bit. “Now can we please just all sit down and try to figure this out?”
 
Willow and Buffy slowly moved to opposite sides of the table, sitting down carefully as if the table was rigged with explosives. Anya, who had been watching from the door of the training room, moved slowly over to the bookshelves. “Let me get down the books we have on curses. We can start there, ok?” Warily eyeing each other, the four of them started going through books, reading and taking notes until the sun started setting outside, but getting no closer to an answer.
 
The bell over the door rang yet again, and Giles had to stifle a very undignified scream. Now what? He turned to see Xander, looking much the worse for wear. His hair was a mess, and his breath reeked of beer. “Dear lord, Xander, what happened to you?” Giles asked, although he was not sure he wanted to hear the answer.
 
“Is Anya here?” he asked. Then he spied her over by the bookcases. He ran over and threw himself at her feet. “Anya, please listen to me. Don’t leave me. I can’t live without you. I can’t be the only single guy in town. Please!” he begged.
 
“Xander, get up,” Anya said, embarrassed by his behavior. “You’re drunk. We can’t discuss this until you sober up. Besides, we’ve got a bit of a situation here. We think someone’s cursed us.”
 
“Cursed!” scoffed Xander, staggering to his feet. “You don’t know what it’s like to be cursed. You’ve gotten to live for a thousand years, doling out the vengeance, traveling all over the world, while I’ve been stuck my whole life here in Sunnydale.” He turned to the others. “You’ve got all your magic and your superpowers, and all I’ve got is a crappy job and a has-been vengeance demon who doesn’t even need me unless I’ve got the money or she needs her itch scratched!”
 
“Xander, that was entirely uncalled for!” Giles snapped. Anya had started crying again, and Giles came over to give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
 
Xander’s eyes widened. “I knew it! I knew something was going on between you two! All those hours you’d rather be at the shop than with me!” He came over and shoved Giles away from Anya angrily.
 
“Xander, back off!” snapped Buffy, getting up and coming around the table to get between him and Giles.
 
“Sure, take his side, like always!” cried Xander. “Sorry I didn’t get to go to college for a million years so I could be like Mr. Tweed over there.”
 
“Xander, cut it out!” Buffy growled, stepping completely in front of Giles.
 
Xander continued like he hadn’t heard. “You’ve always wanted her! Always had to take what was mine, all of you!” he raved.
 
“I said, SHUT UP!” roared Buffy. Her fist flew out and connected with Xander’s jaw at maximum force. Xander flew across the room, striking his head on a bookshelf and coming to rest on the floor, unconscious.
 
“Xander!” cried Anya. She ran over to him, with Willow and Giles close behind. His face was slack and he lolled bonelessly on the floor. A pool of blood was gathering on the floor next to his head. Anya’s hysterical voice penetrated Buffy’s rage-clouded mind. “Oh God! You killed him! Buffy you killed him!”
 
TBC
 
 

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon’t characters, I’m just playing.
Thank you so much for the encouraging reviews!
 
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Chapter 10: Fallout
 
Spike had planned to spend the remaining daylight hours asleep, in the hopes of passing the time without masturbating constantly. His dreams had been wild and erotic, as before. He had moaned and tossed in his sleep to the point that an observer would swear he had an invisible bed partner.
After a particularly vivid dream involving Buffy, Faith, and a large quantity of oil, he awoke to the sound of a noise in the tunnel. Noiselessly he slid out of bed and over to his dresser. He reached for a wicked looking knife and stood to the side of the tunnel entrance, waiting. He was on various demons’ shitlists, and he knew it, and found it best to be prepared. He was totally unprepared, however, for a high pitched voice to say “Blondie bear? Are you here?”
 
“Harmony?” he said, stepping out so he could see into the tunnel. There stood Harmony, in all her ditzy splendor, wearing jeans and a pink top with a ludicrous sequined unicorn on it. “What in blazes are you doing here?” Thought I was shut of you for good.
 
The blonde vampiress giggled. “I was just passing through. I had been up in San Francisco with this guy Raoul, but he split on me. I’m on my way to L.A., but figured I would stop and say hi to my blondie bear first.” She unconsciously licked her lips at the sight of his naked form.
 
Spike’s cock, which clearly could not tell one blonde from another, started hardening again. “I guess you could stay here tonight,” he said reluctantly. “But I’m not really in the mood for long time house guests.” He fought a tremendous battle between his brain, which had had enough of Harmony for five lifetimes, and his cock, which would be glad to shag anything that could possibly work from an anatomical standpoint.
 
“I knew I could count on you, Spikey!” she squealed, hugging him tightly. At the feeling of her jiggling breasts pressed against his chest he hardened even further. His hands automatically moved down to cup her ass. His brain struggled to maintain even a semblance of a protest.
 
“Oooh, Spikey,” she purred. “Did you really miss me that much?”
 
Not really, I’m just dying for a shag lately. His brain waved a white flag of surrender and he pulled her into a kiss. Hardly saying a word he made quick work of her jeans and panties and had her down on the bed in about three minutes.
 
“Wow, you really did miss me!” Harmony exclaimed. Spike wasted none of his considerable foreplay skills on her. He moved automatically, as if he was controlled by some outside force. As soon as she was on the bed he was on top of her, grunting as he slid into her cool center.
 
“Oh yes, Spikey, I missed you too!” Spike gritted his teeth as he pounded her. Spikey. God I could rip her fucking head off every time she calls me that. I’m Spike, or William the Bloody, not Spikey. His cock had a mind of its own, however, and ignored her annoying voice in favor of getting some relief from the constant hard-on.
 
He shoved up her shirt and buried his face in her enormous boobs as he fucked her. After a quick few minutes of completely mindless rutting with absolutely none of his usual finesse, he roared and came, panting unnecessarily.
 
“That was quite a welcome, blondie bear,” she said, a little amazed at how fast it had all happened.
 
Spike got himself enough under control to become aware of where he was. This wasn’t the hot, tight body of the Slayer, with her vanilla scented hair and her sweet, warm blood. This was Harmony, with her cold, clammy cunt and her stupid valley girl voice and her annoying penchant for unicorns. This wasn’t witty quips and smartass remarks. This was vapid, self-centered prattle that he had learned to detest over the last month or two they were together. This was not even remotely what he wanted any more. He had tasted the Slayer, and nothing else would do after that.
 
Disgusted with himself, he practically jumped off of her and backed away. Harmony rose up onto her elbows and looked at him quizzically. “Blondie bear? What’s wrong?”
 
He turned away, clenching his fists and trying to keep it together. “You need to leave, Harm,” he said in a low, deadly tone.
 
“But… I just got here,” Harmony said in a confused voice.
 
“I know. I’m sorry. And I… I shouldn’t have done that,” he ground out. “But it’s over between us, Harmony. You need to leave. I’m really not… safe to be around right now.”
 
“But, you said I could stay the night…”
 
“Get out!” Spike roared, vamping out in frustration and turning on her with fire in his yellow eyes.
 
Alarmed, Harmony grabbed her jeans and pulled them back on. But she recovered enough to snap out, “Well fine! Just use me and toss me out! I can get better guys than you by the dozen in L.A.!” She glared at him with all the fury her ditzy little frame could muster. Turning on her heel she stomped back out into the tunnel. “You’ll miss me!” she shouted behind her
 
Not bloody likely, he thought, shaking off his fangs as her footsteps faded in the distance. He rubbed his hands on his face and went to take a shower. I can’t believe I just fucked Harmony. He looked down at his still semi-hard cock. What the hell were you thinking? Got a bloody mind of your own lately, mate. Then he reached for the soap thinking, and now, you’re conversing with your own dick. You’ve gone right round the bend this time, William. He rinsed himself off and got out, puzzling and puzzling over what could possibly be going on.
 
Right. Time to go back to the Magic Box. Slayer’ll probably stake me on sight, but maybe the watcher has some ideas on what the bloody hell is wrong with everyone. His senses told him that it was past sunset, so he got dressed, threw on his duster, and headed out across Restfield.
 
******************
 
“Buffy you killed him!”
 
The words echoed in Buffy’s ears as she stepped back, shaking her head in disbelief. “No,” she whispered. “No. No. No.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she kept shaking her head again and again.
 
“Buffy,” Giles began, reaching a hand toward her.
 
“Get away!” she screamed, and she turned and bolted out the door. Two feet outside the door she crashed headlong into Spike. Spike hit the ground, cursing, but his presence barely registered on Buffy. She picked herself up and sprinted off into the night, leaving a bewildered vampire in her wake.
 
Something’s up, Spike thought. He dashed into the store and took in the sight of Giles dialing 911, Xander on the floor bleeding, and Anya weeping at his side. Willow came rushing in from the training room with a towel that she pressed to the back of Xander’s bleeding head.
 
“What happened?” he asked, crouching down next to Willow.
 
“Buffy hit him and knocked him across the room. She just totally lost it.” Willow replied.
 
“Oh God! Is he going to be ok?” Anya wrung her hands as tears ran down her cheeks. Please don’t let him die! I didn’t really want to leave him!
 
Spike listened to the whelp’s steady heartbeat and looked him over. “I think he’ll be alright, pet. Scalp wounds bleed a lot. Might have a broken jaw.” Xander’s face was bruising up already, and something was definitely out of place under Spike’s probing fingers. “But his heartbeat’s steady, breathing’s fine. Probably gonna have a hell of a headache when he wakes up.”
 
Giles hung up the phone. “The ambulance is on its way. Anya, you had better go with him.” He turned to the witch. “Willow, you should go find Tara, make sure she’s ok. By non-magical means this time,” he added pointedly. Willow gulped and nodded.
 
“I’m going after the Slayer,” Spike said, standing up. “She’s gonna do herself an injury in that state.”
 
“Agreed. Just… be careful,” Giles said. I can’t believe I just told the Slayer of Slayers to watch himself around Buffy. What is the world coming to?
 
Spike raised a scarred eyebrow at that last comment, then turned to go. Outside the door he vamped out and sniffed the air for the Slayer’s scent. He caught it and his erection returned instantly. Not the time, mate. Concentrating on his quarry, he took off into the night.
 
********************
 
Buffy ran blindly from the Magic Box, her guilt like a whip spurring her onward. I killed him. Oh God, I killed Xander. He stayed by me all these years and I killed him over a stupid misunderstanding. No, oh no… She kept running and running until even her Slayer strength waned and she collapsed on the ground, weeping hysterically. Xander I’m sorry I’m so sorry… She lost track of how long she sat there, shaking and crying.
 
“Aw, is the Slayer upset?” hissed a voice. She looked up to see five vampires approaching. “You took out the rest of our gang the other night. Payback time, bitch.” They all carried chains or metal pipes, and swung them menacingly.
 
Buffy got to her feet and wearily assumed a fighting stance. The nearest vamp swung a pipe at her head. She ducked in time and managed to kick him in the ribs, but another vamp whipped his chain around her ankles and yanked her off her feet. She managed to roll to avoid having her skull crushed by another pipe, but it was very close. She cried out as she blocked more blows, her arms becoming bruised and battered as she struggled to free herself. Two of the vamps managed to grab her arms and pin her down while their leader straddled her. He licked his lips. “This is going to taste soooo sweet,” he growled. He had started to bend toward her neck when he stiffened. His eyes went wide with shock as he dusted, followed immediately by two more of the gang. Buffy looked up to see Spike, in full game face, turning on the remaining two vampires.
 
“If it isn’t the Slayer’s pet,” one of them snarled. “I heard you couldn’t fight any more.”
 
“Heard wrong, mate,” Spike said, squaring off against them. The fight was brutal, but short, and within a few minutes the last bit of dust fell to his feet. He shook off his game face and turned to the Slayer, who had remained on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. “Buffy? Are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling beside her.
 
“No,” whispered Buffy. “I… I killed Xander. I got so angry and it was about nothing but I couldn’t stop myself and I killed him…” Her voice rose into a hysterical torrent of words.
 
“Buffy, stop!” cried Spike, shaking her by the shoulders. “You didn’t kill him. He’s going to be alright. You knocked him out, might have broken his jaw, but he’s not dead.”
 
Buffy looked up at him, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. “He’s… are you sure? He was bleeding and Anya said he was…”
 
Spike interrupted her again. “It was a scalp wound. They bleed like crazy. Anya was just freaking out. He’s not going to die, Buffy.”
 
Buffy was still shaking like a leaf. “Spike, I can’t control myself. I can’t stop the rage.”
 
“Shh, Slayer,” said Spike. He helped her to her feet and looked her over. Her arms were a mess, and she had a pretty good gash on one calf from the chain. “You need to get cleaned up, yeah?” He bent down to catch her gaze with his concerned blue eyes. She bit her lip and nodded. “Come with me, love. My crypt’s not far.”
 
Buffy allowed him to put his arm around her shoulders and gently lead her across Restfield to his crypt. She was unaware of how she had gotten there – her panicked run was a complete blur to her. Spike held the door for her as she stepped in, her arms wrapped around herself. Spike shut the door behind her and said, “Come downstairs, pet. Get you taken care of.” She followed him down the staircase into the darkness below. “Just a minute,” he said, as he pulled out his lighter and started lighting candles. Buffy’s eyes adjusted to the glow, then widened in amazement.
 
“I had no idea all this was down here,” she said. The room wasn’t tidy by any stretch of the imagination. But he had made it comfortable, and the soft candle light was warm and inviting.
 
“Been fixing it up,” he said shyly. He sat her down at the edge of the bed and went to get a wet washcloth from his makeshift bathroom. He rolled up her jeans and cleaned the gash on her leg, which turned out not to be as deep as he had originally thought. He tore up a towel to fashion into a bandage and tied it gently around her leg. Her arms were just bruised, but he found another cut at her temple. “Hold still, pet,” he murmured as he tenderly dabbed at it.
 
Buffy was baffled by his tenderness. When they had sex it had been quick, wild, almost brutal in its intensity. But here he was treating her as something precious and delicate. She didn’t think her own mother would have hands so gentle, so concerned in their ministrations. She focused on his face, running her eyes down his sharp cheekbones, his long nose, and those rich eyes. He noticed her staring and his hand fell away as he stared back, trying to read her expression. “Buffy?” he said uncertainly.
 
The rage only stops with him. Why? But even as her mind tried to figure it out, her hands were moving. They tenderly caressed his face and pulled him gently to her lips. Spike closed his eyes and reveled in the soft warmth of her hands, her mouth, her darting little tongue. The kiss lengthened and deepened as their hands began slowly exploring each other’s bodies. Their previous couplings had been so frantic that Buffy realized she hadn’t really noticed how sculpted his muscles were. His arms were so strong, his abs were rock-hard, and he moaned into the kiss as her hand grazed his bulging crotch. Spike fought with every fiber of his being to stay in control. Gonna make this good for her, even if I explode, he resolved.
 
He eased her down onto the bed, with one hand buried in her beautiful silken hair and another running slowly, tenderly down her body. He reached the edge of her shirt and slipped his hand under it, stroking each lace covered breast in turn, then pulling the shirt over her head and casting it aside. He deftly unhooked her bra and addressed her nipples, licking and sucking, nibbling and caressing until Buffy thought she would drown in the flood of her own arousal. Spike’s need was painful, but he took an unnecessary breath and continued working his way down her body. He swirled his tongue in her navel as he unfastened her jeans. He paused to slide the rest of her clothes carefully down her legs, mindful of her bandaged calf. There she lay, panting and golden, and the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Holy Christ, the anticipation is gonna kill me. But what a way to go.
 
Buffy’s body was vibrating with the sensations. He’s barely touched me and I’m ready to come. This man is an artist. Spike stood and began stripping, slowly pulling off his t-shirt and unbuckling his belt. He kicked off his boots and slid his jeans down, finally freeing his straining cock. Buffy stared appreciatively. Scratch that. He’s not an artist. He’s art itself. For the first time in days, the anger was almost a memory as desire washed it away like a flood.
 
Spike knelt on the floor and pulled her toward him, settling between her thighs. He spent endless minutes caressing her sex, pulling apart the labia to see her hidden depths, sliding in one finger slowly, slowly, until she was twisting and moaning on the bed. He finally bent and took her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it expertly while first one, then another finger joined the first in probing her wet quim. Her moans became nearly constant, overlaid with babbled, frantic pleading. “Spike, oh fuck Spike so good, oh God…” She arched her back and grabbed his hair with both hands, grinding herself madly into his delicious tongue and questing fingers. Finally, he curled his fingers one more time to hit her g-spot and she went over the edge, screaming his name over and over as she came.
 
“Inside me. Please. Now,” she begged. Spike couldn’t have held off another second if his unlife depended on it. He flowed up her body and into her depths, gasping at her heat. “Yes, my Slayer, my beautiful Slayer, so ready for me, so hot for me,” he chanted as he hooked her knees over his shoulders and thrust deep into her again and again. She moaned incoherently and squeezed her interior muscles, milking his cock for all it was worth. He wanted to fuck her all night long, but he was so pent up, so nearly insane with lust that he found himself unable to hold out for very long. The orgasm started building from his toes, from the tips of his hair, all his nerves and senses rushing headlong toward his cock. Finally he could bear it no longer and cried out, “Buffy, God, Buffy I love you!” as he shuddered and spasmed inside her.
 
Buffy’s eyes flew open. She watched him struggle for control as the orgasm subsided. What did he just say? He all but collapsed on top of her, his forehead sinking down to rest on her shoulder as he shook and vibrated with the aftershocks. Unconsciously her hands found the back of his head, stroking his hair as his body gradually stilled. “Spike, I need to breathe,” she said finally.
 
“Sorry, pet,” he said, closing his eyes and shuddering anew as he pulled out of her and shifted his weight to the side. Never experienced anything like that. Ever. He had had many women over the years. But this woman, this little slip of a thing with muscles like iron and a tongue like a whip, she was beyond anything he could have imagined. Her stamina, her strength, her unexpected moments of tenderness, the sheer mystery of how she came to be here, in his bed – his brain just couldn’t process any of this. Then with a sudden shock he realized what he had said. Did I just tell her I love her? Nervously he opened his eyes to meet hers.
 
“Did you mean that? What you said?” Buffy asked, in a voice barely audible even to a vampire.
 
Spike swallowed, carefully considering his options. In the end, he decided that he was probably screwed no matter what he said, and went with honesty. “Yes. I’m… in love with you. Been building up to it for a while, I guess.”
 
Buffy shook her head and started sitting up, moving away from him. “That’s…that’s not possible. You have no soul. You can’t love.”
 
“Who says? Loved Drusilla for a century. I was there, I think I’d remember.” Should have kept your bloody mouth shut, William.
 
“That couldn’t have been love. True love can’t happen without a soul.”
 
“What do you know about love?” he retorted. His brain seemed determined to join his cock in a conspiracy to get him killed, but he couldn’t seem to stop the words pouring out of his mouth. “Angel can’t love without a soul, but his soul didn’t stop him from leaving you, did it? Parker had a soul – was that love? When he used you and dumped you? Riley had a soul. Didn’t stop him from cheating on you with vampire whores!”
 
“Stop it!” Buffy yelled. She got up and backed away further, not wanting to hear any of this.
 
“What do you think love is? Huh?” Spike continued, getting angrier by the second at the girl’s pigheaded ignorance. “I cared for Dru in sickness and in health. I listened to her ravings, saved her fucking life a few times, took beatings from Angelus to shield her, came to this shithole town to try to heal her. If that isn’t love, what the hell is?”
 
Buffy shook her head over and over. “Everything I’ve read says demons can’t love. All the books…”
 
“Were written by watchers, who couldn’t bear the idea of their Slayer getting chummy with the prey,” he interrupted.
 
“You don’t love me,” Buffy spat out. “This isn’t love. This is sex, not love.”
 
“Love is not being able to sleep unless you’ve seen someone that day. Love is getting the shit kicked out of you by every demon in town because you’ve joined the White Hats. Love is staying in this godforsaken California nightmare to get abused by you, and the Scoobies, because the alternative is unthinkable!” Spike shouted, his emotions spilling out uncontrollably.
 
“What?” Buffy had gotten lost somewhere. “What alternative?”
 
“Never seeing you again,” Spike went on in a quieter voice. “I’d rather get dumped on by the entire population of Sunnyhell than leave and risk not seeing you again. Watching you fight. Listening to your ridiculous puns. Seeing you dance at the Bronze. The sex, that’s the icing on the cake. It’s the rest of you that moved the Slayer of Slayers to switch sides. That’s love. Whether you believe in it or not, that’s love.” They were both standing by this point, a foot apart, looking straight into each other’s eyes.
 
Buffy turned away and grabbed for her clothes. Spike just stood and watched as she viciously pulled them on. Then she turned back to him. “So you love me? What am I supposed to do about that? I can’t love another vampire. Not now. Not ever.”
 
“Can’t always control who you love, pet,” he said softly. His hand reached up to touch her hair, and ended up intercepting her customary punch in the nose. “No more of that, Slayer. Had quite enough of the blows to the face this week, thanks.”
 
“Fine,” Buffy said. Then she kneed him swiftly in the groin and stormed out, leaving Spike to collapse groaning on the floor.
 
TBC
 

Chapter 11: Fusion
 
Giles watched the ambulance pull away, then shut the door. He went over to the nearest chair and threw himself into it, utterly spent. He had spun a tale for the police about an attempted robbery, which Xander had foiled, and they seemed to accept the story without question. The shop was finally empty of Scoobies, customers, vampires, and everyone else who had been driving him to the edge of madness all day. With a sigh, he looked at the books of curses spread out on the table. From what they had read, he felt that he was looking at something personal. Someone had something against one or all of the Scoobies, and was trying to make them suffer by intensifying some of their own natural tendencies to the point of self-destruction. This sort of spell usually required some sort of talisman or other object to focus the spell, but he couldn’t figure out where such a thing could be. There was nothing that had been stashed around the store that he didn’t recognize. I should probably call up Joyce and ask her to see if she sees anything unusual around the house, he thought. Heaving himself out of his chair, he headed to the phone.
 
********************
 
Willow wasn’t sure where to look for Tara, so she went back to the dining hall first. She asked the cashier if she had seen Tara. “You mean the crazy chick who just about ate everything we had?” said the cashier. “She finished off that huge pile of food and came back for another whole tray! Halfway through that she got up and tossed her cookies in the trash can. Grossed everyone out of the place. When we tried to get her to leave, she went ballistic. She was screaming, insisting that she was starving, that she needed to eat. We ended up calling campus police to come get her.”
 
“Where did they take her?” Willow asked. Tara, I’m so sorry, what did I do…?
 
The cashier shrugged. “I think they took her to Sunnydale General. She was acting so crazy, I think they thought she needed to be in the psych ward.”
 
Willow turned and flew out of the cafeteria. She ran to the nearest bathroom and shut herself in a stall. No time to wait for a cab, she thought. She closed her eyes and concentrated her will. She had read a teleportation spell not too long ago. She took a deep breath and focused on the image of Sunnydale General Hospital. She opened her eyes and chanted, her eyes growing black with power. Her voice rose until she cried out, “Comportati!” There was a flash and a puff of smoke as Willow disappeared.
 
With a gasp Willow landed on her knees. The world was spinning. She felt like she had been turned inside out. She staggered to her feet, clutching her head. As her vision cleared she realized that she was in an alley. Holding onto a nearby wall for support, she made her way slowly to the street. She realized that she was about 5 blocks from the hospital. Guess I need some practice with that one, she admitted to herself. She tripped and almost fell again, stumbling like a drunk as she made her way down the street. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this awful, ever. She had never been much of a drinker or a party goer, and if this was what hangovers felt like she was never, ever going to drink anything. Ever.
 
By the time she made her way to the hospital doors, her head had cleared and her feet seemed to be working again.  She went up to the information desk, pale and out of breath. “I’m looking for my girlfriend, Tara Maclay,” she panted.
 
The woman behind the desk looked for Tara’s name on the computer. “She’s been taken to the psychiatric ward, fourth floor. You should ask at the nurse’s station up there.” She looked closely at Willow. “Are you feeling ok, Miss?”
 
“I’m fine. Just worried,” Willow said. “Thanks.” Willow made her way to the elevator and up to the fourth floor. The nurse on duty looked up at the redhead and said, “Can I help you?”
 
“My girlfriend was brought in a while ago. Tara Maclay?” Willow said, trying to calm herself down.
 
“Oh yes, Ms. Maclay,” the nurse said. “Are you a relative?”
 
“We live together. Please, is she ok? Can I see her?” Now that the aftereffects of the spell had worn off, Willow was practically in tears with worry.
 
“Let me get Dr. Harper,” said the nurse. Willow sat down on one of the nearby chairs and twisted her hands nervously. A young dark haired doctor came up to her. “Are you here for Ms. Maclay?” he asked.
 
“Yes. Is she ok?” Willow asked, jumping to her feet.
 
“Right now she is heavily sedated. She was fighting the police officers as she was brought in. She was raving about being hungry, and at one point practically attacked an orderly bringing a cart of food to another patient. Can you tell me any of her recent history? Anything that could explain this?”
 
Nothing that you’re going to believe, Willow thought. “She just got over a really bad case of food poisoning, but otherwise, I don’t know what happened to her.” Well, except for a spell or two.
 
“Hmm,” said the doctor. “We’ll just have to keep her under observation for a while then. She’ll be out for several more hours at least, but you are welcome to see her if you like.”
 
Willow followed the doctor into a room where she found Tara, asleep and in restraints. “Tara? Baby? It’s me,” Willow said, gently caressing Tara’s brow. “You’re going to be ok, sweetie, I promise.” Willow sat down next to her and took Tara’s hand. For a moment she thought, I’m sure I could find a spell to fix this. After a few minutes running down a mental list of possibilities, she stopped. This is how she got here, remember? Why can’t I stop? With an extreme effort, she wrenched her mind away from magic and just focused on Tara. She sat there for a long, long time, holding on to the woman she loved and wondering how all this had ever happened.
 
************
 
Anya paced in the emergency room waiting area. I hope his insurance pays for this! How are we going to afford it if we don’t? What if his brain is damaged? Am I going to have to support him? Will that use up all our savings? She pulled the savings account passbook out of her purse and looked at the balance, mentally adding up what a hospital stay could cost, wondering again about the details of Xander’s insurance. Suddenly she realized what she was doing, and was horrified. The man you love is in the hospital with a head wound and you’re worried about the savings account? What is wrong with me?
 
A young female doctor came into the waiting area. “Are you here with Mr. Harris?” she asked.
 
“Yes, I’m his girlfriend. Is he ok?” Anya asked.
 
“His jaw is broken, and he has a hairline fracture in his skull. He needed a few stitches as well. He’s got a pretty good concussion. He’s still unconscious, and he’s going to need to stay here a few days so we can make sure there’s no swelling in his brain. But barring unexpected complications, he should be ok in a couple of days,” she finished.
 
“Can I see him?” Anya pleaded. She bit her lip, trying not to cry.
 
“Sure,” the doctor said warmly. She led Anya into a room where Xander lay, his face all bruised and puffy. His head was swathed in bandages, and the sight caused Anya’s barely controlled tears to spill down her cheeks.
 
“Oh Xander, honey,” she whispered. She sat down next to the bed and stroked his arm gently. For the first time all day, money was the last thing on her mind. “Hang in there, Xander. I love you.” She laid her head down gently on the bed next to him and settled in to her vigil.
 
*************
 
Bloody Christ that hurt! Spike moaned to himself as he lay on the floor, clutching his wounded testicles. Next time let her go for the sodding nose, you idiot! He slowly hauled himself to his feet, seeing stars and feeling slightly nauseated. He reached for his clothes and got dressed as rapidly as he could manage. Fucking bitch is not getting out of this that easily, he vowed. Wincing as he buckled his belt and grabbing his duster, he took off as fast as he could to track the Slayer.
 
Buffy had stormed out of Spike’s crypt at a fast walk, furious with herself for ending up in his bed again, and furious at him for tying her brain in knots. How can he love me? He’s just saying that to piss you off! But she knew deep down that she was just covering. He meant it. She knew he meant it. Arrgh! As if I didn’t have enough to worry about without having a lovesick vampire mooning over me! One vampire boyfriend was enough! She clenched her fists as she walked back toward the Magic Box, trying to figure out what she could possibly say to Giles after all this.
 
As she reached the front of the store, she felt the tingle on the back of her neck that signaled vampire a second before she heard Spike’s voice say, “Just a bloody minute there, Slayer.”
 
She turned, setting her jaw and rolling her eyes. “Spike, what part of kicking you in the groin did you NOT understand?”
 
Spike struggled not to wince at the memory, but he stood his ground. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Slayer. You can’t throw yourself at me then kick the crap out of me when you’re done.”
 
Buffy laughed out loud. “Me? Throw myself at you?” she said incredulously. “You’re the one who’s been going around like a dog in heat!”
 
“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve been hating every. single. minute,” Spike purred seductively, moving until he was inches away from Buffy, licking his lips.
 
Heat rushed through Buffy at the sight of those lips. But then the anger came back again in a rush. “Cut it out!” she cried. She grabbed his arm and spun, throwing him through the air. He flew and crashed into the downspout to the side of the Magic Box door, knocking it down with a clatter. Giles’ alarmed face appeared at the window, but he decided it was probably better to wait a moment rather than getting in front of Buffy in this state.
 
Spike sprawled, shaking his head to clear it, then started to get to his feet. “What the fuck was that for, bitch?” he snarled. He put his hand down in an attempt to rise, only to jerk it back with a shout. “Ow! What the bloody hell…?”
 
Buffy stopped, wondering at Spike’s hand, which was burned and smoking. “Spike?” she asked in a less angry tone. “What is it?”
 
“Don’t fucking know,” Spike growled. He used his boot to probe into the corner behind the downspout and nudged a small bundle out into the glow of the streetlight. Buffy bent to pick it up. It was a crucifix. Around it was a scrap of rough brown cloth and a piece of parchment, tied in place with a scarlet ribbon.
 
“What in the name of God is this?” Buffy wondered. She opened the door to the Magic Box and went inside, with Spike following her, nursing his burned hand and his bruised body.
 
“Buffy?” asked Giles warily. “What is it?”
 
“Spike found this outside the door,” Buffy remarked as she fumbled with the ribbon.
 
“Looks like some kind of talisman or something,” Spike said, looking curiously at the strange object.
 
Buffy managed to undo the knot and unroll the parchment and cloth. The parchment had writing on it in rusty looking ink, which Spike recognized as human blood. Buffy looked at the words:
 
Ira Gula Luxuria Superbia Acedia Avaritia Invidia
 
“So, we’re looking for some guy named Ira?” she asked, having no clue what this was supposed to mean.
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “No, you daft bint. It’s Latin. Someone’s written out the seven deadly sins in Latin.”
 
“The who?” Buffy was no wiser, and getting angry again. “Would you just explain in English? Like now?”
 
“Not my fault you have the cultural awareness of lint,” Spike growled. “The seven deadly sins. List of the primary vices that put you on the path to hell and damnation, according to the Catholics at least.” He pointed to the Latin and translated for her, “Anger, Gluttony, Lust, Pride, Sloth, Greed, Envy.”
 
“Of course!” Giles said suddenly. They turned to look at him. “Think about it. Anya’s been selling everything that’s not nailed down – Greed. Tara couldn’t stop eating, to the point of food poisoning – Gluttony. Dawn’s been sleeping nonstop – Sloth.”
 
“And I’ve been pissed at the world,” muttered Buffy. “I must have gotten Anger in my stocking.”
 
Giles continued, “Xander’s been jealous of everyone, to the point of fighting with Anya, so we’ll assume he’s Envy. Willow’s magical power trip has Pride written all over it.”
 
Spike cleared his throat and spoke up at this point. “Let’s just say that I’ll cop to Lust, without any details, shall we?” He felt that now was probably not the time to bring up his sexual escapades with the Slayer. Buffy shot him a quick, grateful look.
 
Giles raised his eyebrows, but decided that he really didn’t want to know what a curse of Lust would do to a vampire. He polished his glasses furiously for a minute or two, considering the situation. “Someone has cursed the seven of you to live out the seven deadly sins. Why?”
 
Buffy was at a total loss. “No idea. And how?”
 
Spike studied the parchment and the cloth thoughtfully. “Whoever it was, they’re a religious type,” he reasoned. “This cloth seems like something a monk would wear. Together with the cross and the Latin, I’m guessing we can rule out any Jewish or Hindu enemies.”
 
Giles had a thought. “Were the seven of you all here the other night, when I was out?”
 
“Yes!” Buffy said, seeing Giles’ point. “It was only the seven of us. And it was right after that that things got all wonky. Dawn had wanted to watch a movie, but ended up going to bed, and I started getting really, really irritated over little stuff.”
 
“I… um… started noticing symptoms around then too,” Spike muttered. If vampires were capable of blushing he would have been red as a rose at that point.
 
Giles started to ask a question, then reconsidered. I do not want to know. After all the things I have seen today I most emphatically do not want to know. He cleared his throat and said, “So we would seem to have nailed down when it happened. As to how, clearly it was a curse that was backed up by the talisman to strengthen the effects. But who is doing it? And why?”
 
“And how can we stop whoever it is?” Buffy asked. “I’m… scared, Giles. I could kill someone. I almost killed Xander, and I don’t know how to make this stop.” She shivered a bit and rubbed her arms.
 
“What if we destroy this thing?” Spike wondered, indicating the talisman.
 
“Not sure if that would stop the curse,” Giles replied. “Curses of this magnitude use the talisman to help focus the spellcaster’s energy, but the power is not contained in the talisman itself, but in the person casting the spell.”
 
“So how do we find this person?” Buffy asked.
 
Giles thought about it for a few minutes while Buffy and Spike paced impatiently. “I suppose,” he said at last, “That we could focus on the talisman while using a locator spell. In effect we ask the talisman to tell us where its maker is.”
 
“Then let’s do it,” Spike said impatiently.
 
“Alright,” Giles decided. “We’re going to have to gather a few supplies…”
 
****************
 
In his room, Dominic observed his scrying bowl as Giles, Buffy, and Spike prepared the spell. At last, they are coming, he thought. At last you will rest in peace, Gabriel.
 
TBC
 

Disclaimer: All the vampires and other fun characters belong to Joss Whedon. Just playing with his toys.
Continued thanks to the reviewers! Keep the feedback coming!
 
**********************
 
Chapter 11: Redemption
 
Giles spread the map of Sunnydale on the table. He sprinkled it with selected herbs and lit three candles, making sure they were ordinary ones, not the confused mélange of enchanted ones that Anya had gathered. Buffy paced, fuming. Whoever did this is dead. Dead, dead, dead. Spike found himself struggling to stay focused on the problem at hand, when all he wanted to do was bend Buffy over the table and take her, right there, Watcher be damned. Yeah, that would go over real well. Get a grip, William.
 
Finally, Giles finished his preparations and straightened up. “Alright. Come close and keep an eye on the map, so we can see where our adversary is.” Grasping the talisman in his right hand, he began chanting. “Delicamus!” he finished. The map began to glow, the glow shrinking to a bright spot at a point on the map.
 
“Delaney Street,” said Buffy, peering at the map. “There are some older apartment buildings and hotels in that area. Maybe our little curse happy friend is hiding there.”
 
Giles muttered another spell and handed the talisman to Buffy. “Here, take this. I put an enchantment on it so that it will glow when we are near the spellcaster. But we’ll have to hurry, this spell won’t last forever.”
 
“Best get moving then,” said Spike. The three of them got into Giles’ car and headed for the point indicated on the map.
 
“Do you think we should get Willow?” asked Buffy. “She really has become pretty good with the witchcraft stuff.”
 
Giles considered. “As she too appears to be under the spell, I’m not sure if she won’t do more harm than good.”
 
“What’s our plan then?” asked Spike.
 
Giles looked in the rearview mirror, momentarily forgetting that his back seat passenger would not be visible. “Right before we go in I’ll put a shielding spell on all of us. It should protect us until we can subdue whoever is doing this. We’ll need to bind them and prevent them from speaking. I’ve got some rope in the trunk that should do nicely.
 
“You carry the rope, Rupert,” said Spike. “Me ‘n the Slayer should keep our hands free.”
 
“Agreed,” said Giles. He drove on to Delaney Street. The talisman glowed brightest in front of a very run-down apartment building. According to the sign, rooms were available by the week or the month. They got out and entered the building. The talisman continued to glow brighter as they climbed to the third floor, but dimmed again as they passed the landing. “Third floor, I guess,” murmured Giles as they made their way down the hallway. The hall was dark and dingy, with only a few weak light bulbs to pierce the gloom. The talisman brightened as they cautiously walked down to the very last door.
 
“Must be the place,” Spike muttered. Giles whispered the words of the shielding spell, then nodded to Buffy. Squaring her shoulders, she kicked the door open.
 
The room was dark, save for the light of two red candles on either side of a silver bowl of water. Seated in front of the bowl, facing the door was a man in a black robe with brown hair and a beard, graying at the temples, with dark, piercing eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said simply. The three of them jumped as the door slammed shut behind them. Buffy and Spike assumed fighting stances side by side.
 
Giles chanted the words to a spell. “Let your evil tongue be silenced…”
 
The man held up his hand and a wave of power shot forth. The air rippled as Giles was thrown back, hitting the wall and collapsing on the ground. He groaned, and then lay still. Spike growled and tensed. Clearly this guy had known they were coming.
 
“Giles!” Buffy screamed. With furious eyes she turned back to the sorcerer. Barely hearing Spike’s warning of, “Slayer, don’t!” she leaped toward the man, intending to tackle him to the ground. With another silent gesture of the dark man’s hand, she bounced off an invisible shield and went flying into Spike, knocking them both to the ground in a heap.
 
“What the hell is your problem?” she snarled as she and Spike got back to their feet, unconsciously moving closer to each other.
 
The man spoke in a deep voice. “I could ask you the same question,” he said. “What could be the problem that would cause someone with a sacred calling such as yours to be so derelict in your duty?”
 
“What are you talking about?” Buffy asked, bewildered. “Who are you? And why are you trying to kill all of us?”
 
“My name is Dominic,” said the dark haired man. “Your actions, or lack thereof killed my brother. Father Gabriel.”
 
Buffy was momentarily confused. Father Gabriel? Who the hell? Then her eyes widened as she remembered Thanksgiving and the Chumash Indian spirits. She remembered the gentle historian with a pang of regret.
 
Spike spoke up at this point. “Wait just a bloody minute there, mate. The Slayer didn’t kill your brother. I got skewered three or four times by those same spirits that killed your brother. Buffy tried to save him and she barely survived.”
 
“Silence, vampire,” thundered Dominic. He raised his hand and suddenly both of them were dangling with their feet off the floor, as if someone was holding them by the neck. Buffy gasped and struggled, getting angrier and more frightened by the minute.
 
Dominic continued his raving. “I’ve watched you, Slayer. For a year I’ve watched all of you. Watched you lead your immoral lives. My curse just accelerated the sins that rule your lives already. I’ve been watching you as the lust, the greed, the anger inside all of you blew you apart. You should be a force for good, but there is nothing good in any of you. Your sins killed Gabriel, and now they are killing you.”
 
Nothing good? Buffy thought. For a moment she believed him. She thought about how she had nearly killed Xander, how Willow had made Tara worse with her spell, how Xander had treated Anya. Then she had a thought. “Watch us now, then,” Buffy challenged, gasping out the words. “If you’ve been watching us, then look at the others now, and tell me what you see.”
 
The pressure on her throat lessened somewhat as Dominic looked at his silver bowl and spoke a few words. His eyes widened as scenes flitted across. Joyce stretched out next to Dawn, stroking her hair and crying a mother’s desperate tears. Willow sitting next to Tara, holding her hand and telling her it would be ok. Anya pacing back and forth, biting her lip with worry as she watched for any sign of Xander regaining consciousness.
 
“We’re all just human,” Buffy said quietly. “Killing my sister and my friends is not going to bring your brother back.”
 
Dominic had been touched by the scenes of obvious love and devotion that had flashed before him. But the sound of Buffy’s voice reawakened the anger within. He snatched up a knife with a red handle and a curved blade and advanced on Buffy. “No!” howled Spike, struggling against the magical restraints. “Leave her alone! You want to kill something evil, here I am.” In response, Dominic pulled a crucifix from under his robe and pressed it against the side of Spike’s face. Spike screamed as his flesh burned and he vamped out from the pain.
 
“Stop it!” screamed Buffy. At that moment, Giles groaned again and tried to sit up. Dominic looked sharply in that direction, and the distraction weakened his concentration enough to allow Buffy to fight the spell. With all her will she tackled Dominic, knocking him to the ground and rolling over and over, wrestling with him for the knife. The silver bowl spilled and the candles scattered as they fought. Finally, they came to rest with Buffy on top, holding the knife to Dominic’s jugular as she shook with rage.
 
Dominic stared at her, panting. “What are you waiting for? What’s one more life destroyed by your anger?” he shouted. His face was a mask of grief and fury.
 
Buffy was literally seeing red. Every muscle vibrated as her brain screamed to kill this man. But a voice at her back quietly said, “Don’t do it, Slayer.”
 
Spike had staggered to his feet and stood behind Buffy, his face blackened and smoking. Dominic looked confused. Why was this monster, this creature of evil asking the Slayer to spare his life?
 
Spike continued, “You kill him and you’ll never forgive yourself. Can’t watch you put yourself through that, Buffy. You need to put the knife down, love.” Buffy froze, her muscles quivering as she fought for control. “Put it down, Slayer.” Spike repeated.
 
Spike’s low, soothing voice reached through the haze. Buffy’s eyes refocused on the man beneath her as she slowly moved the knife away. She slowly stood up, her eyes never leaving those of the sorcerer. “I don’t kill people,” she said. “I get angry sometimes. Everyone does. But I don’t kill humans. Even when they deserve it.” She tossed the knife away and stepped back next to Spike.
 
Dominic staggered to his feet, looking at them both in disbelief. No! They can’t cheat me out of my revenge. I won’t allow it! With an incoherent yell he lunged once more for the knife. Spike growled and prepared to leap, chip or no chip, when Buffy held him back. “No, Spike,” she said firmly. She walked up to Dominic with her head held high, locking his eyes on hers. “You want to kill me? Here I am. But let my friends alone. If you think you’ll find peace by killing me, then you’re going to have to do it with your own hands.” She stood there defiantly, arms at her sides, with her jaw clenched resolutely. Slayer, I hope you know what you’re doing, thought Spike as he fought his demon back.
 
Dominic held the knife high, ready to strike. Foolish girl, he thought. At last his brother would be avenged. Gabriel would rest in peace. But as he stared into those defiant green eyes, a voice very like his brother’s crept into his mind. She is innocent of my death, Dominic. She has done the best any imperfect human can do. By killing her, you dishonor all that I stood for. His hand started to shake, and tears began running down his face. Finally he screamed, “Oh Gabriel, I’m sorry!” as he collapsed weeping to the ground.
 
The same collective shiver that had gone through them at the start of the spell went through them again. Spike was relieved to feel his mind clear and his endless state of arousal disappear. Buffy felt as if someone had opened a stopcock and drained gallons of poison from her system. She felt calm, and as the calm descended she felt pity for Dominic. She knelt down next to the sobbing man and tentatively put her arms around him. He covered his face with his hands and whispered, “Forgive me. Oh God, please forgive me.” Spike helped a dazed Giles to his feet and they watched in silence as the Slayer comforted their enemy.
 
TBC
 

Disclaimer: All the characters and recognizable stuff belongs to Joss Whedon et. al.
Multitudinous thanks to the reviewers of the BSV!
 
Chapter 12: Reconciliation
 
It seemed for a while that Dominic would never stop sobbing, but gradually his tears slowed and he sat up, looking with miserable eyes at the three of them. “Why?” he asked. “Why didn’t you kill me?”
 
“She told you, she doesn’t kill people,” Spike said. “She’s not perfect, but she’s a force for good. Nothing changes that. I’m a creature of evil. By all rights I should be dead by her hand ten times over. But she’s given me the benefit of the doubt, and I’m fighting on her side now. She could never kill an unarmed opponent. That’s just who she is.” Spike turned to Buffy as he spoke the last words, fixing her with a glance of pure admiration and longing.
 
Buffy was stunned as she heard Spike’s speech. Beyond the words was a deeper undertone. He cares about me. He really does. Spike spoke of her as if describing a sacred object. Free of the spell, his gaze held no more of the animalistic lust, but an obvious and clear devotion. Unsure what to do with this realization, she turned reluctantly to face Dominic. “What happens now?” she asked.
 
Dominic got to his feet slowly, like he had aged twenty years in an instant. “I have sinned,” he muttered. “I have shown anger, lust for revenge, pride in my dark arts, envy of you and your companions.” He looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “Gabriel was all I had left. I’m alone.”
 
“You don’t have to be,” said Buffy gently. She thought of her own feelings of loss and loneliness over the years. Angel had left a horrible void, but Riley had helped fill that. His leaving had ripped the cover off that empty space, but here was Spike, improbably helping to fill the gap once more. “There are so many people in this world. There is always someone to find.”
 
Dominic wondered at this girl, who he had dismissed as shallow, selfish, and sinful. If she could show such forgiveness, such understanding, then who was he to act as her judge and executioner? “I will leave this town immediately. I promise you will never hear from me again,” he swore, as his eyes begged them pardon.
 
Giles was unconvinced. “You have done a great deal of damage these last few days,” he said sternly.
 
“And I swear to you, I will regret it and atone for it for the rest of my life,” he said, sounding utterly defeated.
 
Giles stepped forward, but Buffy put her hand on his arm and shook her head. “Leave all your magic books and equipment behind, and you are free to go,” she said firmly.
 
Dominic grabbed a duffle bag and threw his few clothes into it. He picked up the talisman which had fallen during the scuffle. He caressed it for a moment, and then handed it to Buffy. “This cross was Gabriel’s. He received it for his ordination. I want you to keep it.”
 
“Oh, I couldn’t…” Buffy protested, but Dominic persisted. “Gabriel would have wanted it to go to someone who fought darkness, like he did.”
 
Buffy took the cross solemnly. “Where will you go?” Buffy asked.
 
Dominic considered. “Perhaps I will follow my brother’s path. Maybe I can find through prayer what I failed to find through vengeance.” He gave them all one last look, then left, eyes downcast.
 
Giles looked at Buffy questioningly. “Are you sure that was wise? He seems repentant now, but can we trust him?”
 
“He won’t hurt us again. I know it,” Buffy replied. “Don’t ask me how. Slayer’s instinct.” Giles looked as if he was going to say something, but then closed his mouth again. There was something in the seriousness of Buffy’s tone that made further argument impossible.
 
They gathered up the leftover magic equipment and brought it down to Giles’ car. “I should probably go home and check on mom and Dawn,” said Buffy. Suddenly she felt very awkward in Spike’s presence.
 
Spike found the feeling mutual. How much of all that was the spell? “I could use some kip myself,” he said. He searched the Slayer’s face for a moment, and found nothing but confusion.
 
“Perhaps we should all meet tomorrow night at the shop to discuss all this,” Giles suggested. Spike nodded his assent and moved off into the night, fishing out a cigarette as he went. Giles climbed into the car and asked Buffy, “Can I give you a ride home?”
 
Buffy, who had been following Spike’s departure with her eyes, shook herself and got into the car. “Are you ok to drive? You took a pretty good knock to the head,” Buffy said.
 
“I think that allowing you to drive my car would make my head hurt even worse,” Giles replied with a faint smile. Buffy shrugged. She had no particular illusions about her driving ability, or lack thereof.
 
 They rode in silence for a while. Then Buffy said, “Giles, I’m really sorry about the way I acted the last few days.”
 
“You weren’t yourself, Buffy,” Giles said reassuringly. “You were all being influenced by forces outside of your control.”
 
“The guy was right though,” Buffy continued. “All it did was accentuate what was already there. That anger is inside me. It’s like Spike’s demon, always there, hidden under the surface. I’m so afraid of it getting out.”
 
“Yes, but Spike is a creature of evil, with no soul to guide his behavior. You can control your inner demons in a way that he cannot.”
 
“I’m not so sure of that, Giles. He was affected by this spell, same as the rest of us. But you wouldn’t have known it if he hadn’t told you. Even under the influence of magic, his control is pretty amazing.”
 
Giles frowned. “Am I going to regret asking how you know this?”
 
Buffy avoided Giles’ glance. “Giles, Spike saved my life earlier. When I ran out after I hit Xander, I almost lost a fight with a bunch of vamps. If Spike hadn’t been there…” Giles looked at her with alarm. He hadn’t heard how close things had been that night. Buffy continued, “Just now he saved me from doing something I would have truly regretted. He’s… an ally,” she finished lamely.
 
“Only an ally?” Giles asked pointedly. He had noticed the long look they had shared before parting.
 
“That remains to be seen,” Buffy replied. They pulled up in front of Buffy’s house. Buffy turned to Giles and took a deep breath. “I have a lot to… process about the last couple days. We’ve all got a lot of making up to do with each other. I promise you, I won’t do anything foolish. But I need some time out before I can talk about all this, ok?”
 
Giles could hear the exhaustion in her voice. His mind replayed the scene with the sorcerer. Her will to control her anger, and the fact that Spike helped guide her to the right decision had not escaped him. “You showed strength and understanding beyond your years tonight, Buffy,” he said finally. “And I saw that for whatever reason, Spike acted for good in urging you to spare that man.” Giles took a deep breath. “I will try to trust your judgment when it comes to dealings with Spike.”
 
Buffy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you, Giles,” she said gratefully. “And now, I’m going to go investigate the benefits of that whole Sloth thing.”
 
“Just don’t overdo it,” Giles said, smiling fondly. Buffy closed the car door and waved as Giles drove off.
 
It was past midnight, and Buffy expected the house to be dark and quiet. What she found was Dawn and her mother in the kitchen, enjoying some late night chocolate sundaes. When the spell had broken, Dawn had woken up, surprised to see her mother next to her, and ravenous from having slept through dinner. Joyce had been so relieved to have Dawn back to her normal, active self that she did not object at all to a late night ice cream fest.
 
Joyce got up and swept Buffy up in a hug. “Are you ok? I was so worried when you ran out of here! Did you find out what was going on?”
 
Buffy laughed and hugged Joyce back. “I’ll tell you the whole story over some of that ice cream,” she said. She grabbed another bowl, and was soon describing the night’s events to her rapt audience.
 
“I can’t believe you let him go!” Dawn said when Buffy was finished. “I could have been like Sleeping Beauty, passed out for all eternity!”
 
“I’m pretty sure Sleeping Beauty didn’t drool in her sleep,” Buffy teased. Dawn made a face and went back to her sundae.
 
“You did the right thing,” Joyce said. “He had lost someone dear to him. He wasn’t thinking clearly.”
 
“As long as we’re done with Angry Slayer week, I’m happy,” said Buffy as she finished the last of her ice cream. She put her bowl in the sink and wrapped one arm around her mom and one around her sister. “I love you guys. I’m really, really sorry for lashing out at you.”
 
“Oh sweetie, don’t worry about any of that,” Joyce soothed, hugging her back. “I’m just glad we’re back to normal.”
 
“Or whatever passes for normal around here,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes.
 
************
 
Anya woke with a start. She had been dozing in the chair next to Xander’s bed, watching for any sign that he was regaining consciousness. She sat up and stretched, trying to relieve the kink in her neck. Then she realized that something was different. At first she couldn’t place it, but then she realized that what was missing was the overwhelming need to worry about how much money she had. Did I really sell all those horrible things at the shop? What in the world was I doing? She vowed to make a list for Giles as soon as possible of the dicey items she had sold, and to whom. That is if she could ever get up the guts to face him again. Her face reddened as she thought about her multi-day greedfest.
 
Her guilt-ridden musings were interrupted by a small sound from the bed. Looking up, she was overjoyed to see Xander’s eyes open. “Hey,” she said softly as she stroked his face. “How are you feeling?” Xander’s response was a mumbled grunt. “Oh, I forgot. Your jaw is broken, so it will be wired shut for a while. I guess then you’ll have to listen to me.”
 
Xander’s eyebrows went up, and he managed a half smile. What the hell was wrong with me? I could have lost her for good. As soon as I can speak again I’ve got a lot of groveling to do.
 
Anya saw the look in his eyes and said, “Don’t worry about what we both said and did. It turns out we were all under some kind of curse or something. We were researching it when you came in and got all crazy. I don’t know what happened, but I feel like it’s gone now.” Xander nodded, then winced. “Head hurt?” Another nod. “Doctor said that might be the case. I can go get the nurse.” As Anya turned to go, Xander’s hand closed on her wrist. She turned back to see Xander’s eyes locked on her face. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it the best he could. “Love you too, Xander,” said Anya warmly, and went to tell the doctor the good news.
 
************************
 
Willow had taken to pacing and wringing her hands as she kept vigil over Tara’s sleeping form. The urge to do a spell, any spell, to help Tara was nearly overwhelming. She had to keep forcibly bringing the picture of Tara in the dining hall, barking at her crazily over the pile of food, to keep herself in check. I did this. This is my fault, she repeated to herself over and over. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. The power inside her swirled and beat against her mind, begging to be set free.
 
Then all of a sudden, the swirling stopped. Willow stopped pacing abruptly and looked around as if she had been sleepwalking. It was gone. That feeling of being driven, of being pushed to the edge of control, was completely gone, like someone turning off a switch. Giles must have found a way to break the curse! Oh thank the Goddess. Willow turned to look at Tara. She was still asleep from the powerful sedatives, but she was no longer tossing and turning. Her face visibly relaxed and her breathing evened out. Willow sat down next to her, stroked Tara’s long hair tenderly, then curled up in the chair for a nap herself.
 
“Where am I?” Willow woke up at Tara’s voice. Although it had seemed like just a short nap, it was starting to get light outside. “Willow? What happened?” Tara continued, clearly confused.
 
“We were all under some sort of curse,” Willow explained. “The spell I did… made the curse worse. You went a little nuts at the cafeteria, assaulted a police officer…”
 
“Oh no,” Tara groaned, remembering. “I made a complete ass of myself. I’m never going to be able to show myself on campus again!” She tried to cover her face but found she was restrained. “Why am I tied up?”
 
“They worried last night you were going to hurt yourself,” Willow explained as she freed Tara’s wrists. She avoided Tara’s eyes while she said, “I was under the curse too. I just couldn’t stop doing magic, whatever the result. I’m so sorry I hurt you baby.”
 
Tara closed her eyes for a moment. “Willow, I know the spell made things a lot worse,” she began. “But even before the spell you were really starting to go too far, too fast with the magic. You’ve got a lot of magic in you. But I think you need to stop skipping steps, and I think you need to take the time to learn to control it.”
 
Willow bit her lip. “I get carried away. Can you… will you help me?” Please don’t leave me over this, Tara. Willow’s eyes were moist as she looked at Tara.
 
Tara’s expression softened as she met Willow’s gaze. “I’ll help you. You know I will. Just promise me you’ll never do a spell on any of us without our permission ever again, ok?”
 
“Promise,” Willow replied. Tara could see that she meant it in that moment, and that was all she could ask for.
 
“Good. Now can we see about getting me sprung from this place? I need to go change my name and move to another university.” Willow smiled and went to find the nurse.
 
*****************
 
Spike had gone home and passed out almost the second his head hit the pillow. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so exhausted. When Buffy came by at around two o’clock in the afternoon, he was still flat out. So that’s what they mean when they say someone sleeps like the dead, Buffy mused. She sat down on his chair and watched him for a few minutes. His face had healed somewhat, but still bore the marks from the crucifix. What do I say to him? Where does all this go? She wasn’t entirely sure what had brought her here. Normally she was a huge fan of the avoidance method of dealing with sticky relationship problems. That worked real well with Riley. Not. She was able to admit that in hindsight, she dealt with Riley’s issues by pretending they didn’t exist. With Glory looming out there somewhere, she didn’t feel like she had the luxury of avoiding Spike. She had to admit that he was an incredible fighter. More than that, she had to admit that he cared about her. But how much of that was the spell, and how much was real? That was what she was here to find out.
 
Buffy was pulled out of her contemplation by a stirring from the bed. Spike stretched and yawned, gradually becoming aware of that little pricking sensation that meant Slayer. He opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows, gradually focusing on Buffy. “Morning, Slayer,” he said in a voice husky with sleep. “What brings you here so early?”
 
Buffy laughed. “Early? It’s two in the afternoon, you slug!”
 
“Is it really?” Spike said. He sat up and leaned against his headboard, maintaining a small degree of modesty with the sheet pooled across his lap. “Anyhow, what can I do for you?” He was a bit perplexed by her presence. He had been certain that in the aftermath of the spell Buffy would have avoided him pretty much forever out of embarrassment or fear that the others would find out. 
 
“I just…” Buffy hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “I need to know… how much of that was real?” she finally stammered out.
 
Spike stared at her thoughtfully. “I meant it. What I said. I do love you. I have for a while now,” he responded quietly, looking at his lap. “The spell… I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you, touching you. I was like an addict who needed a fix. But it meant more because it was you.” He caught her eyes and added, “Why didn’t you stop me?”
 
Buffy stared at her own lap in response. “The first time, I had been patrolling through the campus and it brought back memories of all my exes. In my magically enhanced state of pissed-offedness, I decided that sex with you was the best form of revenge I could get. “
 
“And the other times?”
 
Buffy continued to avoid Spike’s eyes. “I realized that the only time I felt any relief from the anger was with you. And even then I tended to lash out at you.”
 
“Yeah, kinda noticed that,” Spike said, rubbing his nose unconsciously.
 
“But this morning I was thinking about other stuff,” Buffy went on, and suddenly met his eyes. “You saved me from those vampires. I was so upset about Xander that I think part of me was ready to let them have their one good day.”
 
Keeping the sheet wrapped around him, Spike came around and sat on the edge of the bed, facing Buffy. He took her hands in his and said, “Couldn’t let that happen, love. Won’t happen on my watch if I have any say in the matter.”
 
Buffy was struck by the concern in his voice. “Why did you stop me from killing him?” she asked.
 
“Like I said,” Spike explained. “You wouldn’t be the same after that. You would have driven yourself mad with guilt. I couldn’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself that way any more than I could watch you let those vamps take you out.”
 
Buffy felt the truth of his words and saw the sincerity in his eyes. She looked at her hands, which seemed to be just right resting in his. “I don’t… I don’t know how I feel about you, Spike,” she began.
 
Spike’s face fell as he let go of her hands and started to distance himself. “ ‘S ok, Slayer. I know my place…” he said.
 
“No, listen to me!” Buffy pleaded. She searched for the right words. “I like having you on my side. You’re an ally, and a… a friend. And if I’m being completely honest, I’d like to be a friend with certain… benefits.” She blushed, but managed to go on. “But I don’t know if I can love you, and I don’t want to lie to you or lead you on.” Her eyes begged him to understand her rambling. “Am I making any sense whatsoever?”
 
Spike sighed. The Slayer was many things, but Shakespeare wasn’t one of them. “Right now, I can be happy with being an ally and a friend. And I won’t lie either – I would most sincerely enjoy some of those ‘benefits’. But I don’t want to be a punching bag anymore, and I don’t want to be the official Scoobie scapegoat. Sex with you was amazing, Slayer, but I’d rather give it up than have every session end with you getting pissed and running off. Won’t be your dirty little secret.”
 
Buffy took a deep breath. “Giles… Giles said he would trust my judgment when it came to you. I feel like there is a lot of badness coming our way. I need you on my side, and I plan to tell the others that I need you on my side. But maybe we could not overly rub our extracurricular activities in their faces at first? Let them first get used to the idea of you as an ally before letting them know we’re something… else?”
 
“I think I can work with that,” said Spike. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, which Buffy could not resist returning. His lips feel so right. She was starting to think that perhaps being something else with Spike could be ok after all. None of them had anything in particular to be proud of after their recent behavior. Perhaps a growing friendship with Spike wouldn’t seem the worst thing in the world after all that.
 
“Shall we explore some of those benefits, pet?” Spike murmured, breaking her train of thought. His low voice sent shivers through her entire body.
 
“I think if I had to pick a sin, lust is definitely the most appealing at this point,” Buffy responded. Then all thoughts of sins, curses, Scoobies, and sorcerers left the building as she joined him on the bed.
 
The end.
 
************************
 
A/N: Thank you so much to all the faithful reviewers who inspired me to keep going! Here are the challenge requirements:
 
Name: Seven Deadly Sins Email: wir2@lycos.com Season: Season 4   Father Gabriel's (from "Pangs") brother comes to Sunnydale seeking vengeance for his brother's murder. He 
secretly curses each of the Scoobies with one of the seven deadly sins. Can they overcome their weaknesses 
before they are consumed by them? 

Choose your season, but must be Spuffy & Bitey. Don't remember your seven deadly sins? I'll help... 

1. Pride is excessive belief in one's own abilities, also known as Vanity. 
2. Envy is the desire for others' traits, status, abilities, or situation. 
3. Gluttony is an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires. 
4. Lust is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body. 
5. Anger is manifested in the individual who spurns love and opts instead for fury. 
6. Greed is the desire for material wealth or gain, also called Avarice. 
7. Sloth is the avoidance of physical or spiritual exercise