Note: Our story so far:

After Spike burns up in the Hellmouth, Buffy demands that the Oracles bring him back. Unable to do so physically, they place her twenty-three-year old mind in her younger body, just before she first meets Spike. If she wants things changed, she has to change them herself. Buffy does, winning over a startled and initially reluctant Spike. Angel leaves Sunnydale, taking Dru with him, and Buffy and Spike claim each other.


Chapter 1


“So where do we go from here?” Spike asked.

He was lying on his side, his head propped on his bent arm and his free hand sliding in intricate patterns over Buffy’s naked body. She shivered. Her nerve endings were still quivering from the intensity of the claiming that had just taken place between them.

“I’m not quite sure. We should tell people we’re mated. But that’s going to cause a lot of hysteria, so I don’t know whether...”

“Word’s going to get around,” he said, bending down to nip at her stomach. “Can’t hide it, luv, even if we wanted to. Vamps will know the minute they see your bitemark on my neck. Master of Sunnydale claimed by the Slayer. The challenges will start right away.”

Her eyes widened. “Challenges?”

“A Master who allows himself to be taken by the Slayer has to be weak. Minions will want to test me, see whether it’s their big opportunity to move up the ladder, maybe become Master in my place. Demons will try to move in on my territory. They’ve never thought much of vamps anyway. Consider us half-demons. Tainted by being turned from and having the form of humans. They’ll think it’ll be easy.”

“Spike...!”

He grinned at her. “Not to worry, luv. I’m the biggest Bad around here. They won’t take me. Smart ones will stay on my side. The dumb ones? They won’t be around after I’m through with them.”

“That’s all we need,” she sighed, arcing unthinkingly under the slow kneading of his hand on her stomach.. “A battle over territory and pecking order raging through Sunnydale.”

He kissed the hollow of her throat. “Better now when things are quiet than later when we’re in the middle of an apocalypse or something.”

She dug her fingers into his thick hair and pulled his head up so that she could see his eyes. “You’d help me with that?”

“I would. Won’t let you go into something like that alone. Minions won’t and I don’t have the right to drag them into that. Can’t force them to side with the light. If whatever it was became a direct threat to their interests, they might do it. But only then. Gotta remember they’re creatures of the dark.”

“I wasn’t thinking of them. Aren’t you a creature of the dark?”

“Don’t know what I am now,” he sighed. “Did a one eighty degree turn bonding with you. Straddling a yawning chasm here, by having a foot on both sides now. Sure would make it easier if all the minions ran. Headed for parts unknown, way the hell out of Sunnydale. I’d just be on one side then. Your side. Thing is, I’d still be Master. Even if there wasn’t a minion left, I’m still Master. If a vamp came into Sunnydale, he’d have to challenge or submit.”

“No pax?”

“For what purpose, luv? A pax is a temporary thing, a truce intended for vamps passing through my territory and not planning to stay. Think I can keep any vamp from feeding? Can’t. No more than you could keep me. Best I can do is order my minions to do catch-and-release. No killing, but they’d still feed.” He looked at her seriously. “Is that enough for you, Slayer?”

“God, this is getting so complicated! I guess that’s good enough until we can figure out something better. But if I come across them, I stake them, whether they’re your minions or not.”

“Fair enough.” He dropped his head against hers, then purred contentedly as she stroked his chest and stomach.

Her eyes widened suddenly. “Hey! I can feel that!”

“What?”

“I can feel you feeling me touch you.”

“Oh!” He laughed. “Claim starting to kick in.”

He bent his head and mouthed her breast. She caught her breath sharply. She could feel not only his lips and his tongue working her breast, but the sensation he felt doing it and the sensation he felt coming from her as he did it. It was like two mirrors set to reflect each other: the feeling flashed back and forth, intensifying with each pass.

“Oh my God!”

“Wait till we start making love,” he grinned. “Or when I drink from you.”

“I think I’ll die.”

“What a way to go, huh? Empathetic connection,” he explained. “We’ll pick up each other’s feelings, sensations. Might even end up being able to talk to each other in our heads. Happens sometimes. We’ll have to ask your Watcher what else could happen. Bond between a Slayer and a vamp could have all sorts of side effects.”

She caressed his side and back, and felt his pleasure across the link. “Oh, I like this.”

Even better was feeling his happiness. She had made him feel so unhappy in her own time. It was lovely feeling his joy now, the depth of his contentment.

“Might be a problem tomorrow,” he said suddenly. “I’ll have to cement my position with the others. You’re gonna sense me taking on the challenges. Sense me fighting.”

“I’ll...”

“You’ll do nothing,” he said flatly, catching her intent over the link. “Think, Buffy. I have to be Master of Sunnydale in my own right. You can’t help me without undercutting my position. What kind of Master would I be if I have to have the Slayer help me hold on to the title?”

“But the only reason you need to defend that title is because you’re bonded to me!”

“Doesn’t matter. Either I hold it on my own or I lose the lot.”

“Do you have to be Master?” she asked plaintively.

“Either I rule or I’m a minion. That’s the way it is, pet.” His face was hard and grim. “Won’t be anybody’s minion. Won’t submit to anyone.”

“Can’t you...?”

He shook his head, guessing what she was about to say. “Can’t even abdicate, pet. No such thing. Only way to abdicate is to dust. And the new Master would then throw everything he had against you.”

“I could handle that,” she said sulkily. “If it wasn’t for the dusting part.”

He grinned at her. “Would kinda put a crimp in things, wouldn’t it? Stick that lower lip out just a little bit more, luv. Yeah. Just like that.”

She giggled as he sucked on her lower lip. “Stop that. We’ve got to discuss this.”

“Nothing to discuss, pet. You can help me if I have to take on demons. That kind of turf war is right up your alley. But you can’t help me take on my own minions. You feel that happening tomorrow, you stay out of it. That’s the only way you can help.”

“All right, damn it!” she growled, seeing how stern and grave his face was and sensing how important this was to him over the link. She didn’t like it one bit, didn’t like the idea that, after all they had gone through, she might lose him tomorrow. And to be barred from doing anything to prevent that happening was insupportable. “There are so many of them!”

“Mostly fledges. I brought the ones who had some experience with me on Parent-Teacher night and you dusted them. Two-thirds of the lot are left and they’re mostly fledglings. The Anointed One collected too many around him. Way too lax. Quality’s more important than quantity. Time to clean house a little bit.”

“Spike...”

“Worry about it later.” He bent and sucked lightly on the claim mark on her neck and felt her shudder against him.

“But...wait...Ohhh!”

He smiled against her skin. He knew how to use the claim and had no compunctions about using it. She was a fast learner, though, and would know how to use it soon enough. But right now, at this critical time, he had an edge and he was going to use it to keep her safe.

He could feel her pleasure and knew she could feel his. The claim intensified everything. Their hands ran over each other, kneading and caressing, each touch reverberating back and forth through the claim, nerves firing off and echoing and not having time to settle before the next shuddering tremor started, bodies sliding and coiling around each other, friction setting off a spiral of sensation that just kept rising and rising until it was well-nigh unbearable. He took her hard and she arched under him, then bit the claim mark on his neck in retaliation. He yelled, he couldn’t help it, it was so agonizingly sweet, felt her convulse under him, around him, clenching upon him.

‘God, this is going to kill us!’ he thought blankly, spurting into her in blind ecstasy, and heard her scream through the shuddering euphoria of his mind and body.

***

He was feeling ten feet tall when he stalked into the factory the next day. King of the world, let alone Master of Sunnydale. Let ‘em come. He was ready for anything, could take on a horde of Polgara demons, forget about one pack of raggedy-assed vamps.

He’d put the call out over the minion link and they were all gathered when he arrived. He walked through their ranks, noting the ones who would give trouble. Not too many sharp ones. Way too many thick-brained lunkheads, male and female. The Anointed One had been indiscriminate, or perhaps it had been the Master before him. The two of them had wanted numbers, planning to take over Sunnydale and make it their own blood production line. Brilliant. As if that wouldn’t call attention to Sunnydale, bring down retaliation in no time.

Power over the world. Make the world safe for vampires, humans only cattle to be herded and eaten. Yeah, yeah. Like that was ever going to happen. Several billion humans and how many vamps? Gimme a break here. No, cunning was what was required, not brute force.

Living well. That was what it was all about. He had never been into power. All he had ever wanted was to be happy—fighting, feeding and fucking. The simple life. He grinned. Got it now. And was gonna keep it, by God.

He threw himself into a chair, tossed one leg casually over its arm and smirked nastily at the faces staring at him.

“Right then. Got an announcement to make. Some of you been around since the Master was here. Most of you got turned when the Anointed One was in charge. ‘K. They’re both dust. I’m Master now and there’s gonna be some changes made.”

“Like what?” growled a vamp on his right. He was one of the ones Spike had been keeping an eye on, a big beefy vamp with delusions of adequacy, who thought size was the key to everything. Spike hadn’t even bothered to learn his name. ‘Bonehead’ would do.

Time for the shock. He grinned and pulled down the neck of his T-skirt, baring the claim mark at the junction of his neck and shoulder. There was a collective gasp.

“Mated with the Slayer last night. Maybe some of you know we’ve been keeping company.”

His amused glance ran over the various expressions of shock and horror, interestedly noting the couple of faces that had thoughtful attitudes instead.

“That bitch!” exclaimed Bonehead to Spike’s satisfaction.

Spike flicked his hand. The stake that he had up his sleeve flew across the intervening space and buried itself neatly in Bonehead’s heart. The vamps on either side jumped back, horrified, as Bonehead poofed into dust.

“Don’t like insults to my lady.” Spike’s gaze ran the others. “Any one else wants to test who’s got the biggest wrinklies ‘round here, step on up.”

“Traitor!” someone shouted and the place disintegrated into chaos.

Spike was out of his chair in one gleeful, twenty-foot leap that landed him right in the middle of the pack. The weight of sheer numbers should have pulled him down at once. But they were fledglings and he was a Master vampire with a hundred and twenty years of joyous experience in fighting behind him. A stake in each hand, he whirled, taking them down even as they threw themselves on him.

After a while, he realized that the pack was thinning. The circle that had been focused on him was now splintering into separate fights, little pockets of struggle breaking off from the main fight. It looked like some of the pack were declaring themselves for him. The smart ones. The ones who saw the potential in what he had done. He grinned and went on staking opponents.

Seven, then five, then three trying to surrender. He staked them anyway. If they weren’t for him, they were against him; and he didn’t want any half-hearted followers ready to turn on him the first chance they’d get. Here was an opportunity to clear the decks, get everything set up the way he wanted, and he was going to take it, ruthlessly.

All gone. He stepped back, taking a deep breath of satisfaction, and looked around. There were five other vamps looking back at him amidst the clouds of vamp dust just settling to the floor. The ones he had expected, the smart ones, among them Brian and Dalton. He reached out and grabbed Dalton by the back of the neck, shook him affectionately.

“Bookworm! Had it in you, didn’t you?”

Dalton beamed and resettled his glasses, out of breath and chuffed that he had won a fight all by himself.

“Cream rises to the top,” Spike said, grinning at them all. Four males, one female. The survivors. The ones who would think and listen. “Break out the booze and let’s go over some new rules.”

He could feel Buffy over the link, worrying about him. She had felt the violence of the fight, of course. He sent her reassurance and a cocky, mocking, query-feel that stood for, ‘Well, of course I won; did you think it would be otherwise?’ Her response came back and he laughed. She had slapped herself upside the head so that he would feel it. And with it, came a rush of love, a warmth enfolding him. His heart melted and he sent it back.

“Only six of us now,” Brian said as they settled themselves around the table and passed the bottle around. Spike was glad that Brian was among those that survived. Light, quick and clever, he would be useful. “We’ll need more.”

“Why?” Spike leaned back in his chair, feet on the table and ankles crossed comfortably. “Quality is what I’m after, not quantity.”

“But...”

“Think about it. Thirty, thirty-five odd vamps means that many kills a night, just to feed. Which means the Slayer would be forced to come after us to reduce the number. And she would. Just because she’s bonded to me doesn’t mean she gives a fuck about you.”

“Point,” muttered Rafe. He was a tall, lanky drink of water who looked like he had strolled out of some old western.

“New rule. No kills. Catch-and-release.” He looked around at their shocked faces. “We’ve been going about this all wrong. Don’t need the death, do we? Just need the blood and the life force. Take a drink, then send ‘em back home with a happy and no memory of the bite. Might have to do two or three a night to get all the blood you want, but, hey, that’s no problem for us in a town this size, as long as they don’t remember. Just don’t bite the same one every night, people. Give them a week to make up the blood loss. Sunnydale becomes a sodding buffet for us, only six and no competition.”

The thought was sinking in.

“But there is competition,” Price protested. He was a quiet, capable, black vamp who had so far proved himself efficient at anything Spike had asked him to do. “There’s loose vamps on the street.”

“And the girls in the bite-shops,” Carla added, pushing back her red hair.

“We move ‘em out. They leave or we dust them. Sunnydale’s ours.”

"Shit.” The possibilities were beginning to unfold.

"Demons,” said Price, not protesting, just bringing up a problem factor.

"Slayer and I will take ‘em out. Not the quiet ones like the Krasevics or the Brachens, any of that type. They keep to themselves anyway, don’t cause any problems. It’s the ones that muscle in on our turf that I don’t want around. You see them, you take care of them. Or tell me where they are and the Slayer and me, we’ll take care of ‘em.”

"Son of a bitch,” said Brian, awed. “The town will be ours. The six of us. The Slayer okay with this?”

"We’re helping her, aren’t we? But don’t bring yourself to her attention until I have a chance to introduce you properly. Slayer has a tendency to dust first and ask questions later.”

"Noticed,” muttered Rafe and a ripple of amusement ran around the table.

"‘Nother thing. No turning. Annoying One had you gits turning people all ways from Sunday. And guess what? Ninety percent of the new fledges were useless. He wanted muscle. Which meant a lot of brain-dead jocks with nothing but bone between their ears. Most of which we’ve just dusted.”

"Steroids. Yuck!” Carla shuddered.

"See what I mean? Didn’t even taste good. You leave the turning to me. I want someone turned, I’ll turn him. But I’m not going to do it unless there’s good reason. Gonna be for merit, a sodding badge of honor it’ll be, if I ever do it. But I’d rather have it just us six.”

"I can see it,” Brian was muttering. “I can see it.”

"Could have a good thing going here,” Spike said. “Don’t screw it up, people.”

They all nodded.

"Um,” Dalton blurted suddenly as Spike tossed back the last of his drink and started to get to his feet. “Something happened. Drusilla...”

"Angel came ‘n picked her up?” Spike grinned when Dalton looked relieved that he wasn’t mad. “Yeah, that was settled last night. Right then.” He nodded to all of them. “You gits put the word out, get things moving. I’m going to have another word with the Slayer.”


***

Buffy had sensed the fight. It was utterly frustrating to feel him fighting and not be able to help. She didn’t even know how things were going: Spike wouldn’t ever acknowledge defeat, not until it actually happened, and then it would be too late for her to do anything about it. Fear for himself was not in his nature and he loved fighting, so all she could pick up over the link was a gleeful roil of violence and enjoyment.

When his triumph and reassurance came over the link, she had to sit down and put her head in her hands, she was so weak with relief. She sent her exasperation over the link and felt him laughing at her. Damn, cocksure, egotistical vamp! So sure he’d win.

“Buffy?” Giles said in surprise, opening his front door and seeing her sitting on the bench outside. “What are you doing out here?”

“Just taking a breather. Um, Giles, there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

If she dropped the whole thing on him, he’d probably die of shock, so Buffy thought she’d just take it step by step. First things first—that she wasn’t his seventeen-year-old Buffy.

“Twenty-three years old? From the future? Future mind in this time’s body?” Giles poured himself a massive jolt of Scotch and knocked it back in one go. “Er, um, Buffy, I won’t insult you by asking whether you’ve made this all up, but...”

“Yeah,” sighed Buffy. “Been there. You need proof. I don’t have any. But if I say that you dabbled in the Black Arts when you were a young man, called yourself Ripper and have an old enemy called Ethan Rayne who’ll be turning up in Sunnydale in just a little while, would that help?”

Giles’ mouth was opening and closing like a fish. He looked totally flummoxed.

“Ripper...Ethan...” he said in a squeaky voice, then caught himself and coughed to clear his throat.

“Have another drink,” suggested Buffy.

“I think I will.” He did so, then took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “Um, why are you telling me this?”

“Well, you’re my Watcher and you’re going to notice when I start acting strange. Know things I shouldn’t. Act older than I am. I’m not a kid any more, Giles. I’m an adult and I’ll be making adult decisions. And some of them you’re not going to like. But I know what I’m doing and I’ve got the knowledge of six years worth of future events in my head. I don’t want you calling out a wetworks team to take me out just because you think I’m suddenly acting weird.”

“W-wetworks...”

“I know about the Council, Giles. I know how they operate.”

“Oh, good Lord.” He polished his glasses furiously. “It’s not all the Council. It’s just...”

“Quentin Travers. He’s got a lot of power and he uses it badly.”

Giles was staring at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads. “You know...too much.”

“I do.”

“Is it an apocalypse? Is that why you’ve come back?”

“No. There were apocalypses and, yeah, maybe I can prevent some of them now, fix some of the really bad things that happened. But we won the big one, Giles. The one that really mattered. And we’re in the clear now. Only...someone died whom I couldn’t live without. That’s why I came back.”

“W-who...?”

“Tell you later. I want Willow and Xander to hear it as well. Right now, I want you to help me tell my Mom about my being the Slayer. I have to be able to function freely, without have to sneak around about going on patrol and getting grounded because Snyder thinks I’m a troublemaker.”

“All right.” Giles was starting to get his bearings back. “Shall we tell her about your being from the future?”

Buffy shook her head. “She’ll never believe that. Not yet. I think my being a Slayer is enough of a bomb to drop on her head right now.”

“Quite. Rather shell-shocked here myself,” muttered Giles as he started to collect reference books.

While he was doing that, Buffy called Willow and Xander and asked them to meet her at her safe house for a Scooby meeting in an hour. They took down the address, exclaiming in surprise, and she promised that she would explain everything when they got there.

Joyce didn’t take even the Slayer part very well and Buffy knew she’d never be able to explain the rest to her for quite a while. She had to demonstrate her Slayer strength several times, and Giles had to point out all the relevant references about Slayers in his books before Joyce came anywhere close to believing them. Giles left the books with her when the two of them went off to the safe house, and Buffy only hoped Joyce would have come to accept the unpleasant truth by the time Buffy returned home.

The hardest part, though, was coming up now, when she would have to tell Giles, Willow and Xander about Spike.

“Why do you need a place like this?” Giles asked as Buffy led him down the stairs to her hidden flat.

“Need a place to be me. And to train,” she added as her neat little gym was revealed when she opened the metal door at the bottom. “I’m way past exercises in the library now, Giles. Need a proper workout these days. Among other things,” she murmured with a grin, thinking of Spike.

Giles was impressed by how professional everything was. He walked around, studying things, while Buffy unpacked the weapons she had liberated from Giles’ weapons locker and laid them on the table before finding places for them in the cabinet she and Spike had constructed. Before she was halfway through putting them away, her Slayer hearing picked up the sounds of Willow and Xander arriving and then hesitating in bewilderment at the broken-down doors upstairs. She went up to let them in.

“Place of your own? Awesome, Buffy!” Xander enthused once he saw her flat. He was clearly visualizing wild parties well away from parental interference.

“You’ll find there are a few drawbacks,” murmured Buffy, amused.

“I don’t understand, Buffy,” Willow was saying as she looked the place over, surprised and a little concerned. “Why do you need a place of your own?”

“Aw, c’mon, Will!” Xander exclaimed. “Even a computer nerd’s gotta know...”

Willow waved a hand at him in exasperation. “Got that, Xand. Not that dumb, for Pete’s sake. But this is something more.”

“Yes, it is.” Buffy saw Giles settling back against the pommel horse, his arms folded and a tiny, anticipatory smile on his face. Nothing like having company when one realizes one hasn’t exactly put one’s best foot forward on something. “It’s like this...”

Willow’s and Xander’s reactions to Buffy being back from the future were all Giles could have hoped for and more.

Once the shouting and exclamations and protestations were over and Buffy had flatly refused to tell Xander anything about his future, to his extreme disappointment, Willow asked the crucial question: “But why did you come back, Buffy?”

Buffy drew a deep breath, then lost it entirely as the front door opened and Spike sauntered in.

“Got my bunch sorted out,” he said blithely. “How about yours, pet?”

Willow screamed and grabbed for the bottle of holy water beside the weapons bag. Both Xander and Giles flung themselves at the weapons on the table.

“Claimed!” Buffy yelled, trying to get between them and Spike. “We’re claimed! Mutual claim, Giles!”

Giles froze, the axe he had snatched up falling out of his hands. But the words were meaningless to Xander. He had a crossbow in his hands and was already cocking and firing it.

Buffy flung herself in front of Spike. But he caught her and spun so that his back was towards the crossbow, throwing the two of them to the floor. He wasn’t quick enough for the shot to miss entirely; it was all happening so fast. The bolt from the crossbow hit him, slicing along his jaw before burying itself in the wall.

“Married! We’re married!” Buffy screamed at Xander.

“Married? To him?” gasped Xander. There was a long pause while he turned white as a sheet. Then his eyes rolled up and he passed right out cold.

“Idiot,” muttered Buffy as he hit the ground with a thud. She pushed Spike away. “And you! That bolt could have gone right through your back and into your heart.”

“It was headed for your shoulder. Wasn’t going to let it hit you, luv,” he said flatly.

She shook him hard. “You could have...you could have...”

“Well, I didn’t.” He grinned suddenly. “Survived thirty odd vamps and damn nearly get killed by a wanker of a teenage human. How’s that for irony?”

“You have a sick sense of humor.” But she hugged him fiercely hard. “You moron! You weren’t supposed to get here until eight.”

“Past that now, luv.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t realized how much time had gone by. “Willow, there’s a first aid kit on the kitchen counter. Would you get it for me?”

Willow set down her bottle of holy water and went numbly over to the counter. “I don’t see it, Buffy.”

Buffy and Spike helped each other to their feet, then Buffy came over to the counter herself.

“Where...? Oh, I remember. I put it in one of the cabinets.”

“You’re...married?” said Willow blankly as Buffy pulled a cabinet door open.

“We claimed each other. It’s like a marriage, except more so. It’s a vampire thing. Our lives are linked together. He dies, I die. And the other way around. That’s why Giles stopped.”

“But, Buffy...That’s Spike! Y’know, vampire, no soul, killed two Slayers, Scourge of Europe, that Spike!”

“Yeah. But I love him.” Buffy found the first aid box.

“Oh,” said Willow weakly. “Well, he is majorly hot.”

On the other side of the room, Spike turned and grinned at her. “Thanks, Red. You’ve got taste.”

Willow blushed vividly. Buffy laughed.

“Vampire hearing’s very acute.” She took the first aid box over to Spike, pushed him down onto the arm of a chair and pressed a gauze pad against the gash along his jawline. “Hold that there.”

“Bleeding’s almost stopped. It’ll heal.”

“Yeah, well, let’s get some tape over it anyway.” She cleaned the cut, then taped it to hold the edges together so that it would close up properly when it healed.

Willow got a cushion and pushed it under Xander’s head where he lay on the floor.

“Uh, pet?” Spike murmured to Buffy. “Remember what I said about heart attacks all around? Looks like your Watcher’s having one.”

“What!” Buffy ran to Giles who was sitting on the table, staring blankly into space, his jaw hanging. “He’s not breathing.” She thumped him on the back. “Giles! Breathe!”

“Cuh-cuh-cuh-cuh...” stuttered Giles. “Cuh-cuh-cuh-clai...”

Willow looked from him to Xander flat on the floor and gave an involuntary snort of laughter, then clapped both her hands over her mouth to choke it off.

“I’m evil,” said Spike softly in her ear. “What’s your excuse?”

Willow gave him a wild-eyed look and bit her lip hard to keep from breaking out in half-hysterical giggles.

Buffy glared at both of them. “Come on, you two! It’s not funny! Giles. Get a grip.”

“Claimed!” Giles gasped. “You’re claimed?”

“Yup.”

“But he...He’s...”

Buffy sighed. “He’s a vampire. He doesn’t have a soul. He’s the Master of Sunnydale and the Scourge of Europe. He’s killed two Slayers. But...he’s also helped avert three apocalypses and died saving the world in the fourth and major one.”

“Four apocalypses?” asked Spike interestedly. “Busy sod, wasn’t I?”

“He did?” asked Willow, her eyes wide.

“Yes, he did.”

“Talk about being a bloody git,” muttered Spike. “You really had me by the balls, didn’t you, Slayer?”

She grinned at him. “But you like that.”

He grinned back. “True.”

“He’s the one you came back for,” Giles said slowly. “The one who died, you said..”

“That’s right.”

“And now you’re claimed. The two of you. Vampire and Vampire Slayer.” Giles made a despairing gesture. “It’s unheard of. It’s never happened before.”

“Can you research it, Giles? Find out what the ramifications are, what the side effects might be?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I must.” He shook his head dazedly. “I have to tell the Council.”

“No!”

“But, Buffy...!”

“Quentin Travers will send his wetwork squad after me. Kill me or capture me for study.”

“What?” said Spike dangerously.

“He wouldn’t do that!” protested Giles.

“Oh, yeah? One word, Giles. Cruciamentum.”

“Oh, Lord! They put you through that?”

“What’s a Cru-cruciamentum?” asked Willow.

“It’s what they do when a Slayer turns eighteen. They drug her so that she loses all her Slayer strength and powers, then they put her somewhere where she has to outwit a vamp using only her brains.”

“Well, that’s moronic, innit?” Spike commented. “Your Slayer finally gets experienced, then you put her to a test like that and lose her. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh, yes, it does,” Buffy said softly, staring at Giles. “If you get a nice, submissive Slayer, like Kendra down in the West Indies, you give her a fledgling, an easy test. If you get an independent, free-thinking one who doesn’t do everything you say, you give her a vamp that’s guaranteed to take her out, so that a new, hopefully more obedient Slayer will then be called. The vamp they gave me was a psychotic, dangerous even to his own kind.”

“This Travers? This Council?” Spike asked. Buffy nodded and he turned his head to look at Giles. “You don’t tell your Council about the claim, Watcher.”

Giles frowned. “Don’t tell me what to do, vampire.”

“Anything happens to her because of you, Watcher, I’ll kill you.” His eyes had gone yellow. “I’ll fucking kill you slow, Watcher.”

“I’m not afraid of y...”

Spike reached out, grabbed his shirt with both hands and yanked him off the table. “Don’t count on the ‘she dies, I die’ thing. It takes a while. I’ll get you if it’s the last thing I do. And if I can’t for some reason, I’ll put a bounty on your head. You’d have every vamp and demon in California and points east coming after you.”

“Spike.” Buffy caught his arm.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Buffy,” Giles said flatly. “If you think I would, you’re a bloody fool.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Spike let him go with an irritable flick of his hand.

“All right then.”

Giles dusted himself off and resettled his shirt with dignity. He was watching Spike thoughtfully, with wonder.

“You really care for her.”

“Damn right. I love her.”

“Vampires can’t...” Then he stopped. “That’s the Council talking, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Demons can love, Watcher. Council won’t let you believe that because it’s easier to kill us if you believe we have no feelings. Demons are to be exterminated, right? But what about the ones like the Krasevics or the Listers who don’t do any harm? Always exceptions to any rule. Loved Dru a hundred and twenty years. Will love my girl here forever.”

Buffy smiled at him. Their hands met and clasped tightly.

On the floor, Xander stirred. Willow went to kneel beside him. He opened his eyes, found himself staring at Spike and scrabbled backwards frantically.

“Spike! That’s Spike!”

“Here we go again,” sighed Spike. “Watcher, you try.”

Willow and Giles got Xander off the floor and into a chair. Then Giles explained the claim to him, very carefully and in words of one syllable.

“You mean we can’t kill him?” Xander looked at Giles pleadingly. “There’s got to be something you can do!”

“There’s nothing that can be done. They’ve claimed each other. It’s permanent and irrevocable.”

“But...but...” He stared at Spike and Buffy. Spike had hooked a hip on the table and had pulled Buffy into his arms and was now nibbling her ear while she laughed. “God, that’s disgusting!”

Buffy and Spike both glared at him.

“Can I eat him?” Spike asked.

Buffy gave Xander a stern look. “If he keeps that up, I might consider it. Only, you might not like the way he tastes.”

“That’s true,” said Spike, contemplating Xander distastefully. Then he brightened. “I could tell one of my minions to eat him.”

Willow giggled and Xander curled tighter into himself in his chair, rather like a snail withdrawing into its shell.

“Shutting up now,” he muttered.

“Keep it that way,” said Spike coldly. “Tolerate you because Slayer wants it like that. But I tell you right now. I hold no brief for you. Give me a hassle and one of my people gets a nice snack.”

“And while we’re on that subject,” said Giles. “What about his people, Buffy? Are you going to let thirty or forty vampires have the run of the town, killing freely, just because you’re mated to their Master?”

“Giles! As if I’d do that!”

“It’s a legitimate question. What about his minions?”

“Only five left,” said Spike. “Had a bit of a shake up in the organization, like. And those five have their orders. No killing, no turning. Catch-and-release, just like you wanted, Slayer. Rest of the vamps in Sunnydale? We’re running them out now. Won’t be any left but my five in a couple of days. That good enough for you, pet?”

Buffy nodded. “Good enough.”

Spike grinned at her. “Have this town run our way in no time.”

Giles was staring at them. “No vampires in Sunnydale except your five?”

“I’m Master. No vamp comes in unless I let them. They move on or they get dusted.”

“But...this is unheard of!”

Spike shrugged.

“It can’t be that easy,” muttered Giles.

“It isn’t.” Spike glanced at Buffy and she nodded wryly back. “Slayer’s still going to be busy. There’s still the demons. I have no control over them and the Hellmouth draws them in flocks. But the two of us, we can take care of them.”

“The two of...” Giles took off his glasses and reached for his handkerchief. “You’re going to help Buffy destroy demons?”

“Think I’m gonna let my girl go up against them alone? Not a chance.”

Giles looked as if he were in shock. Willow was grinning a little as she looked at him and then at Xander who looked as if he were going to be sick any minute.

“I think it might take a little while to get accustomed to all of this,” she said diplomatically. “Why don’t we all sleep on it and we can discuss it in the morning? I’m sure Buffy and Spike have other things to do right now.”

Xander looked even sicker at the thought, but Giles just nodded absently and wandered off up the stairs, still in a brown study. Willow dragged Xander after him.

“Nice little bird, your Red,” said Spike appreciatively. “Has her priorities straight.”

Buffy grinned at him. “You only say that because she thinks you’re hot.”

He shrugged off his duster, kicked off his boots and flopped into an armchair, pulling her down with him in a tangle of arms and legs.

“Certainly endears her to me. But I was thinking more of her tact. Bright little bint knew I wanted to be...alone with you.”

She laughed. “That wasn’t what you were going to say.”

“In you, pet. In you.”

He pulled her camisole top over her head and threw it away, bent to run his lips over her breasts where they swelled over the cups of her bra.

“Whoa! Wow, Spike! What’s gotten into you?”

“Feeling good. Was a great day. Wanna celebrate.”

“By taking me by storm? Oooh!”

Her bra was gone. He had her bent back over his arm, lips moving and suckling over her breasts.

“Operative word is ‘taking.’”

A dizzying wave of emotions, feelings, pictures was coming over the link. His excitement and laughter and arousal. What he was doing to her, what he wanted to do, what he was going to do...

“Whoo! I’m getting pictures now!”

“Feelings are better.”

She suddenly got a vivid, sensory feel of what he would feel like inside her. Her thighs clenched involuntarily.

“Bed, Spike! Now!”

They were both laughing in between of eating each other alive. He scooped her up and headed for the bedroom, walking blind because they couldn’t stop kissing.

“This can get dangerous,” muttered Buffy against his mouth as he jarred his shoulder against the doorjamb. He laughed, deep in his throat.

“Great feeling, innit?” He dropped her onto the bed and fell on top of her, knocking out all her breath. She laughed and bit his shoulder in retaliation. “Oh, yeah.”

She wound her legs around his hips, pulled at his T-shirt. “Shirt off. Shirt off.”

He yanked it over his head and threw it away. They both purred at the feeling of skin against skin.

She caught his hands and stretched them out on either side of them. Their fingers interlinked and tightened; their bodies moved sinuously, torsos rubbing sensuously against each other.

“Are you trying to slow me down?” His open mouth ran down the side of her neck, lingered on the claim mark. She shuddered.

“No, you just feel so good.” She rubbed her face against his jaw, smiling. “You feel so wonderful. Tip your head back.”

“Like this? Mmm,” he purred as her mouth ran along the underside of his jaw from under the corner of one ear right around to the other, then sucked down his throat. His hands tightened on hers. “Have a thing for throats, don’t you? Shoulda been a vamp.”

“Just yours. Love your throat.” She did. Her lips moved back and forth over the fine, supple lines of his throat. She could feel his pleasure over the link, the way he immersed himself in the feel of her mouth upon him. It was one of the things she liked most about him, the way he threw himself into the moment, drowned himself in it and in her, the whole world shoved away except for her and the sensations she gave him.

He slid down a little bit until he could mouth her breast. She arced to his mouth, her nipples hardening almost painfully as his tongue flickered over them, hands clenching on his.

“And I love your breasts,” he muttered, suckling on them. “Could play with them for hours.”

“Ohh.”

“So what else do you like about me?” he murmured after a while. He had pulled his hands free and was now sliding them all over her torso, kneading and stroking, just as she was stroking his back and chest and stomach, caressing him.

“Hmm?” Her brain wasn’t working properly, lost in sensation. His mouth was sliding everywhere across her ribcage. He repeated the question, laughing against her navel. “Oh. Too long a list. It would take hours.”

He smiled against her skin. “Then try it the other way. What don’t you like about me?”

He was easing her jeans off, his mouth following them down over her hip and then the top of her thigh. Then her jeans were gone and he was kicking his own off, sliding back up, his mouth drifting over her stomach, using his fangs now in tiny pinpricks that were hopelessly erotic. She was writhing helplessly.

“Well?” he asked.

“I’m thinking. I’m thinking.”

They both fell into laughter.

“Love you, kitten.”

She pulled him up until she could kiss him. They kissed deeply, tongues weaving, mouths twisting. Her fingers dug into his hair; her arms wrapped around his head. The claim picked up her pleasure, threw it to him, picked up his delight in her, threw it to her. They shuddered helplessly, nerve ends vibrating more and more intensely as the claim flashed every sensation, every emotion, back and forth over the link.

“Oh, God, Spike!” Her legs came up to grip his hips; her body arched to him.

“So hot...”

He came into her hard and every nerve flared. They both gasped, eyes closing in ecstasy, open mouths sliding across each other’s faces, bodies straining against each other as the slow, deep drive of his cock thrust them relentlessly higher and higher. It was voluptuously sweet, agonizing in its intensity, the claim blazing through every cell of their bodies until she thought they would fuse together.

‘Oh, God, we’re never going to survive much more of this,’ she thought helplessly as her climax crashed over her like a tsunami.



TBC

Chapter 2

"Buffy! Where are you going?" Joyce called as Buffy started to open the front door after dinner the next day.

"On patrol, Mom."

Joyce hesitated, looking at her dubiously. "Against these vampires and things."

"Uh huh. Didn’t you read all the stuff in those books Giles gave you?"

"Yes, I did, but..." Joyce wrung her hands nervously. "Buffy, really. Vampires? That’s just make-believe. They don’t really exist."

"Don’t they." Buffy’s Slayer sense could feel Spike outside, waiting for her. "Guess I’d better prove it, huh?"

Joyce’s eyes widened. "What?"

Buffy opened the front door, leaned out and called, "Spike! Could you come here for a minute?"

He came lightly out of the shadows and paused at the foot of the steps. "What’s up, luv?"

"Want you to meet my Mom." She grinned at him. "No eating my Mom, okay?"

He grinned back. "Promise."

"C’mon in, Spike."

He came through the door and smiled at Joyce. "‘Evening, Mrs Summers."

Joyce stared at him. Bleached hair, black leather, undeniably handsome and sexy, as undeniably trouble. So not the type of man she wanted to see her teenage daughter associating with. Ever. Every mother’s nightmare standing right there in her house.

"Mom, this is Spike. His real name’s William, but everybody calls him Spike."

Worse and worse.

"H-Hello, Spike." She looked beseechingly at Buffy. "Um, Buffy, I don’t quite understand..."

"Spike’s a vampire."

"Excuse me?" Spike might look like the stuff of a mother’s nightmares, but he certainly didn’t look like Bela Lugosi.

"Gameface, Spike, please?"

"You’re determined on giving everybody heart attacks, aren’t you?" said Spike, but obliged.

Joyce made a sound as if the wind had been knocked right out of her and tottered backwards helplessly. Buffy caught her and guided her to the couch. Joyce sank onto it, still staring speechlessly at yellow eyes, ridges and fangs, that whole grotesque, deadly, predator’s face.

"Wh-wh-what...?"

"Vampire, Mom. That’s what a vampire looks like. Usually you don’t see it, unless they’re sinking their fangs in you. Kinda pretty in a way on Spike," said Buffy thoughtfully, looking him over. He grinned. Which made him look even more frightening.

"P-p-pretty...!"

"Like a lion or a leopard or something." Buffy realized Joyce was in shock. "I guess I’m just used to it."

"Um, pet, I don’t think she’s breathing right either."

"Mom!" Buffy sat down on the couch beside Joyce and patted her back encouragingly. "Don’t do the Giles thing. Breathe."

"Yes. Yes," said Joyce numbly. She stared as Spike resumed his human face. "How do you do that?"

"You’d better give her a closer look, Spike." Buffy moved back to the other end of the couch to allow Spike to sit down next to her mother.

But Spike just went down on one knee in front of Joyce so that she could get a good, clear look, then went back into gameface. This close, she could hear the tiny grate of bone as he shifted. She put out a hand involuntarily and touched his ridges.

"Good Christ, it’s real!" Spike snickered and Joyce blushed vividly. "Oh, I’m sorry!"

"Quite understandable," grinned Spike, shifting back to his human face once more.

"But...I don’t understand. If you’re a vampire, aren’t the two of you supposed to be enemies?"

"Well, we’re supposed to be," Buffy said. "But I have a truce with the Sunnydale vamps right now. Spike’s their Master and we, well..."

Spike had slipped to one side and was sitting leaning against Buffy’s legs, his arm across her lap, and Buffy’s arm had dropped to lie across his shoulders. It was completely unthinking, but the body language was unmistakable. Joyce suddenly had a clear idea what the ‘well’ stood for. For her, that was a lot more upsetting than the fact that Spike was a vampire.

"How old are you, Spike?" she asked severely.

"Twenty-eight as a human, almost a hundred and twenty as a vamp."

The human part was bad enough; the vamp part didn’t bear thinking about.

"Oh, no," said Joyce. "Oh, no, Buffy, really! You’re only seventeen. I can’t possibly allow..."

"Um, it’s kinda too late, Mom. We claimed each other. That’s like a marriage in vamp terms."

"Married!" This time Joyce hoped she would pass out. Unfortunately it didn’t happen.

"You need a ring," Spike was saying thoughtfully. "Emeralds and diamonds, I think. Would go with your eyes."

Buffy beamed at him.

"Married," said Joyce again, trying to take it in.

"We’re linked," Buffy said. "Irrevocably. Can’t be broken. No divorce possible. I’m sorry, Mom, but it’s a done deal."

"It’s not that I have anything against you," Joyce said seriously to Spike. "You seem an awfully nice boy. But she’s so young!"

"She’s older than she looks," Spike said dryly, then didn’t expand on that when he caught the warning Buffy sent over the link. "But thank you for thinking I’m nice, Mrs Summers. Evil is usually the word people use."

Both he and Buffy were grinning. Joyce had to laugh.

"Well, you seem pretty nice for a vampire. Will you come to dinner tomorrow so that we can get acquainted?"

"I’d be honored, Mrs Summers."

"If you’re going to be my son-in-law, you’d better make it Joyce." Joyce shook her head. "This is all going to take some getting used to."

"Anyway," said Buffy, "that’s why I’ve got to go on patrol tonight. And every night. Got to keep the demons down. Spike’s going to help me," she added quickly as Joyce’s mouth opened on a protest.

"That makes things marginally better," muttered Joyce. "But, Buffy, dear...you could get hurt!"

"You haven’t seen her in action," said Spike. "She’s bloody good!"

Joyce looked unconvinced. Buffy patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"I’ve been doing this for ages. Don’t worry, Mom. Try looking those books over once again, but this time without the closed mind."

She grinned when Joyce looked guilty.

"I was denying everything I read," Joyce admitted. "I think I had better go through them again."

"Please read them, Mom." Buffy reached for the door. "It’s the only way you’ll understand what’s really going on."

"Now for some fun!" said Spike as he and Buffy went down the steps.

Willie the Snitch looked up in horror when Spike sauntered into his bar. A pall of silence fell over the several assorted demons in the place as Spike tapped the counter with one finger.

"O-neg. And don’t try slipping in orangutan or some other dreck like that. Think I can’t tell? The good stuff, wanker."

Willie poured it out with a shaking hand, helplessly watching two-thirds of his clientele, the peaceful ones, rapidly fading away out of his bar. The other one-third were getting to their feet and flexing their various appendages dangerously.

"This one’s on the house. Just drink it and get out of here."

"‘M in no hurry."

"Spike, for the love of God!" Willie hissed. "Don’t you know the word’s out?"

"And what word is that?" asked Spike, grinning at him.

"That the Master of Sunnydale’s become the Slayer’s lapdog," said an enormous K’Valch demon behind him. "I’d do what he says and save that candy ass of yours. We don’t want quislings like you dirtying up our place."

Spike turned and looked him up and down distastefully. "Place is dirtied up already with you in it, valchy. Serving notice here. You all want to save your candy asses, you get the hell out of this town. ‘S ours."

"Fucking vamps always think they run everything." A massive Strivald lumbered up on his right and glowered at him. "Fucking ‘Master’ of Sunnydale. Think you need a lesson in who really owns this town."

"Not you, that’s for sure." Spike grinned and tossed down his blood, then made a face. "Tastes bland after Slayer blood," he muttered, then smiled sweetly at the Strivald. "Really think you should be getting out of here before I rip your head off."

"You and what army?" the Strivald roared.

"That would be me," said Buffy. "Spike. Catch."

Spike caught the axe she threw him, whirled and sliced it straight through the Strivald’s neck.

"So I won’t rip," he amended. "Neater this way."

The Strivald’s head bounced on the counter top; the body thudded to the floor, greenish-tinged ichor spraying everywhere. The two halves of the K’Valch landed next to it. Buffy had taken it out in one blow. The place exploded into chaos.

"Outside!" wailed Willie. "Take it outside!"

No one listened to him. Demons were throwing themselves into the fight, Buffy and Spike were whirling buzzsaws at its center, and the maelstrom rolled right over Willie as if he didn’t even exist. He curled himself up on the floor behind the counter, his arms wrapped desperately around his head.

The fight did end up spilling out of the bar when Buffy flung a Riharejk through the doors. The confined space of the bar had given Buffy and Spike some advantage as it kept all the demons from attacking them at once. Outside, they spun smoothly to fight back to back. But suddenly there didn’t seem to be that many demons left and some of those seemed to be caught up in their own desperate struggles with opponents that had come out of the darkness behind them.

"Dang!" said Buffy. "They’re running."

The few demons that were left were indeed running. Buffy managed to chase one of them down and Spike dispatched another, but the rest were too fleet of foot and managed to beat a retreat before they could be run down.

"Ah, well, we should leave some fun for tomorrow," said Spike. "Boring otherwise."

"True." Buffy looked thoughtfully at the three figures just straightening up from demon corpses. "And who are these?"

"Ah." Spike grinned at the three vamps shifting from foot to foot under the Slayer’s gaze. "You boys didn’t have to join in. Slayer business, y’know."

"Our town," muttered Brian.

"That one’s Brian," said Spike to Buffy. "The lanky one’s Rafe. One on the end there’s Price. Guess you all know the Slayer."

"Ma’am," said Rafe and the other two nodded respectfully.

"Mm." Buffy bit her lip edgily. "Won’t kill you today. Might tomorrow. You know to keep out of my way, don’t you?"

"Yes, ma’am," they chorused.

"They’re your people. You take care of them." She scowled at Spike. "Tame vamps," she muttered. "That’s all I need."

"Don’t worry about it, Slayer." Spike winked at the others and jerked his head towards the bar.

They made their way around dead demons and pieces of, then looked in at the bar. Willy was just climbing shakily to his feet.

"Just look at this place," he said accusingly to them, pointing at the smashed tables and chairs, then at the walls and floor splashed with circulatory fluids of various colors. "Who’s going to pay for the damage?"

Spike glanced at Price who was treasurer. "Take care of it."

Price nodded and went to do so.

"And you’d better not pad it," Buffy said severely to Willie who gulped.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he lied, mentally cutting down by half what he had intended to ask, then offered ingratiatingly, "I can take care of the clean-up."

"Good. Do that."

"Well, that was a good night’s work," said Spike with satisfaction. He cocked an eyebrow at Brian. "Where are the other two?"

"Carla’s putting out the word in the bite-shops and Dalton found this book got him all excited. Real old and in the Brachen dialect. He’s gone off to see one of them to find out what it is."

"Dalton," said Buffy thoughtfully. "Glasses, thinning hair, middle-aged?"

Spike nodded. "Bookworm."

"He and Giles might have something in common. Do you think he’d mind showing that book to Giles?"

"Shouldn’t." Spike was trying to hide a grin at the thought.

"What’s so funny?"

"Giles and a vamp getting matey over a book That’ll be a sight." He gave her a droll look and Buffy had to laugh. "Just so you know the lot, Carla’s young, tough, thinks she’s a sexpot, has red hair."

"Got it."

Spike watched Brian and Rafe exchanging relieved glances that the Slayer seemed to be accepting the bunch of them, and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the whole situation.

"Right then," he said. "Slayer and me, we’re gonna do a quick pass through the cemeteries and then call it a night. You gits are off leash till tomorrow."

"No kil..." Buffy began sharply.

"Catch-and-release, ma’am," Rafe said before she could finish. "Swear. Made sense once we started thinking about it."

"Oh. Okay then." She glanced back over her shoulder at the three of them staring after her as Spike and she walked off, their arms loosely around each other. "They’re a bit on edge, aren’t they?"

"They never expected to see you this close up without getting dusted, Slayer."

"Oh." She had to laugh. "Well, I couldn’t stake them after they’d just helped us. Maybe tomorrow."

"Right."

She hit his stomach lightly with the flat of her hand. "Stop giggling."

"Wasn’t making a sound."

"I can feel you over the link."

"It’s just...the whole thing’s weird, yeah?"

Buffy sighed. "And it’s probably going to get a whole lot weirder."

They did a fast tour of the cemeteries, then headed back to Buffy’s flat.

Once there, Spike shed his duster and they both kicked off their boots, then curled up comfortably on the couch, Spike leaning back so that his head rested on Buffy’s arm lying along the back of the couch. She scooted closer until his head was on her shoulder, then dropped her cheek against his temple. He smiled.

"So, what about these apocalypses?" he asked, playing with the fingers of her free hand. "They gonna start happening anytime soon?"

"You can’t be looking forward to them!"

He grinned unrepentantly. "Well, I am. Looks like fun."

"Well, this year’s one was Angel turning into Angelus. That happens if he has a moment of perfect happiness," she explained at his raised brows. "But it shouldn’t happen this time. He knows about it now, so he’ll be able to guard against it. Unless Dru..."

"Dru’s more likely to drive him ‘round the bend," said Spike dryly. "He’s not used to the way she thinks, and he’ll be pulling that hair of his out by the roots right about now. Perfect happiness?" He snickered. "Not bloody likely."

Buffy bit her lip to hide a grin. "Angelus killed Jenny Calendar the last time around. But now she won’t die, so she and Giles can be happy."

"Watcher’s got a bird? Didn’t think he had it in him."

"And another good thing about Jenny being alive is that she can teach Willow how to handle magic. Willow taught herself the last time and she kinda forgot to teach herself a few important things. Like the fact that magic has consequences."

"Magic always has consequences," Spike muttered, then glanced at her in surprise. "Red’s a witch?"

"Will be."

"Interesting. What’s next on the agenda then?"

"Well, next year the Mayor wants to turn himself into a giant snake. But we can take care of that pretty much the way we already did. It was effective. Let’s see. The one to watch out for is the government building a secret base under the college here in Sunnydale. They want to use demons for military purposes, so they start experimenting on them. They put a chip in your head to keep you from harming humans."

Spike growled and she kissed his temple reassuringly.

"It won’t happen this time. We won’t allow the construction to even get started."

"Yeah. Can’t hide something like that. That’s a threat to all demons, peaceful or not, innit? Can put the word out. Got a network of spies here, what with the Brachens and the Krasevics and all. They’ll keep an eye out. First shovel goes in, they’ll know. Accidents will start happening. Not to people," he said quickly as she opened her mouth. "To machinery. Nothing’s gonna run right. That base will never be built."

"That might really work," said Buffy with satisfaction. "My Mom."

"What about her?"

"She gets sick. A tumor. They get it out, but just when we think she’s recovering, she has an aneurysm and dies. I want to keep that from happening. Maybe if we get her to have the operation sooner..."

"That would help, but, hey, vampire here. Nothing I can’t sense about blood. Blockage, dilation, clot, doesn’t matter. I’ll know it. Can keep an eye on her, sense it when it starts forming and get her to the hospital way before it gets critical. Nice lady, your Mum. Don’t worry, pet. We’ll make sure nothing happens to her."

"Spike..."

She dropped her head against his and he laughed, throwing up an arm to press her face to his.

"Hey, think I’m going to let anything happen to someone who calls a vampire ‘a nice boy’? Nearly had a coronary myself trying not to laugh."

"Idiot." She dashed the tears from her eyes. "Okay, what’s next? Glory."

She told him all about Glory and the portal she wanted to open and how Buffy had to die to close it. He frowned, listening to her intently.

"So you died and Willow resurrected you. But what happened to Glory?"

"Well, I won the fight and she was so weak she turned back into Ben. And...and Giles killed him."

"Watcher grew a pair, huh? Well, good for him!" He considered that thoughtfully. "So the way it is, this Glory is all-powerful when she’s in the hellgod stage and just an ordinary human when she’s this guy, Ben?"

"Yes."

"Right. No problem then. I just take the wanker out the minute he shows up in Sunnydale."

"Spike, you can’t do that!"

"Why not?"

"Well, he’s human. I can’t let..."

"Giles did and he was right to do it. The moment Glory got her strength back, you’d have had the whole thing to do all over again."

"It’s wrong!"

"Don’t care." He turned his head on her shoulder to look up at her. His face was hard and set, absolutely determined. "Think I’m going to let you die? Red might not be able to resurrect you this time. I’m a vamp, pet. Don’t care if it’s right or wrong. What’s one more death on my non-existent conscience? That git walks into Sunnydale, he’s dead."

The worst thing was that Giles would agree with him.

"Spike..."

"No, pet. Maybe you can think of another way. Try. But the way I see it, one death prevents a lot of grief. So I’ll have that death." He smiled grimly at her. "Moving right along."

"Spike."

"Moving on, luv."

"Um." She let it go for the time being and told him about Tara’s death and how Willow had gone all evil.

"That one’s easy," said Spike. "Take out your Troika right at the start. I’ll be able to sniff out their location and you can call the cops on them the minute they steal the diamond. Have them arrested for theft. Then keep an eye on your Tara, in case of accidents, until the danger’s well past." He tilted his head to smile at her. "And now the big one, right?"

Buffy nodded. "The First. And the solution is?"

They grinned at each other.

"Take off the amulet," they said at the same time and laughed.

"Wouldn’t be free of the Hellmouth then, luv," he said. "It would still be here and you’d still be tied to it."

"Don’t care, as long as you were there with me. And Sunnydale not disappearing into a crater is a good thing. I like this town."

"Our town," he agreed, smiling.

"Ramifications of that are spreading." She frowned, considering that. "Your vamps in on it. Demons getting the idea. There might be all sorts of repercussions."

"You have no idea."

She gave him a puzzled glance. "What does that mean?"

"You’ll see." He was smiling oddly.

"I wonder what Giles really thinks of it. As a Watcher, this must all seem like a...a blasphemy."

Giles was indeed having a hard time of it. Since he was paying Willie the Snitch to keep him posted on happenings around Sunnydale, Willie informed him the very next day about the smack down at the bar. Hearing that Buffy had taken on a bunch of demons didn’t surprise Giles at all, though he was horrified that she had put herself into that much danger. What really rocked him was that Spike and his minions had helped.

He went down to Revello Drive to ask Buffy about it and was unsurprised to find that she was not at home.

"She’s probably out with Willow and Xander," said Joyce. "It is Sunday afternoon, after all."

Giles didn’t disabuse her of that idea, even though he knew that it was incorrect. He could see Willow and Xander heading this way themselves, most likely also looking for Buffy.

"She’s not at home," he said, intercepting them.

"She’s probably at her flat," said Willow. "Why are you looking for her, Giles? Oh, don’t tell me. It’s something dire."

"Nothing of the sort," retorted Giles, exasperated by the levity. Why couldn’t these children take things seriously? "I just wanted to ask her about something."

"Let’s try her flat," said Xander, perking up. "Great place to hang out. I wonder if she’d mind if I had a party there some night."

"Well, if you don’t mind your guests getting eaten," muttered Giles and Xander gave him a horrified look. "Don’t forget that Spike seems to have the run of the place."

"Spike!" spat Xander bitterly. He still hadn’t reconciled himself to the idea that Buffy could have allowed herself to get involved with Spike.

His misgivings about Spike were confirmed when they opened the metal door of Buffy’s flat to find her having a ferocious knock-down-drag-out fight with Spike all across the livingroom.

Willow gasped and Xander threw himself at the weapons cabinet, yelling, "See? See?"

Giles grabbed him and shoved him against the wall, holding him there despite his struggles.

"Giles, what are you doing?" Xander gasped. "He’s going to kill her!"

"Don’t be such a bloody fool!" snapped Giles. "Spike can’t hurt her. They’re claimed. Weren’t you listening when I told you what that meant?"

"But look!"

"They’re sparring, that’s all."

"Sparring!"

Buffy and Spike hadn’t stopped battling, registering but discounting their arrival, their attention totally concentrated on the fight, where a moment’s loss of focus would mean defeat. Giles watched them in appreciation and wonder. He hadn’t seen Buffy fight after her future self arrived in this time and he had never seen her fight with an opponent as accomplished as Spike. The speed and power and ferocity of the moves they used against each other was astonishing. Giles was astounded and impressed.

The end came in an instant. One moment they were flinging themselves at each other; the next they were rolling over and over on the ground, their arms wrapped around each other. They ended up with Spike on top, the two of them kissing fiercely.

"Oh, God, I think I’m going to be sick!" said Xander loudly.

Buffy and Spike stopped kissing reluctantly, grinned at each other, then sat up, leaning on each other’s shoulders.

"Y’know, Xander, it’s amazing," said Buffy. "You still seem to think that I care."

"Yeah, whelp," said Spike. "You’ve really got to get it into your head. She doesn’t give a damn about your opinion."

Willow could hear Xander grinding his teeth. "Who won?" she asked quickly.

"Well, actually it was a draw," said Buffy. "I lost my balance and knocked Spike off his. What’s up, guys?"

"I heard about that fight you had last night," Giles said. "With demons at Willie’s bar."

"Yeah, took out a lot of the bad uns," nodded Spike, getting to his feet and drawing Buffy up with him. "Not too many left now. We’ll get them over the next week or so."

"Willie said that...vamps helped."

Spike grinned at him. "That’s what’s bothering you, huh, Watcher? Yeah, vamps helped. We don’t really like certain demons, so the boys decided to lend a hand."

"This is..."

"Unheard of. Yeah, Watcher. Got that. Better get used to it. Gonna be a lot of it going around."

There was a cough at the open door. A smallish, gray, nondescript demon was peering in at them hesitantly.

Willow squeaked and jumped back. Xander leaped for the weapons cabinet, then stopped short abruptly when Spike interposed himself in between.

"Firoud," Spike said softly to Buffy. "Non-harmful. Lives in the sewers. Pretty useful at keeping the vermin down."

"Ah. And what can I do for you?" asked Buffy with a polite nod of the head to the Firoud.

"Slayer." The Firoud bowed so low that it almost doubled up. "Please. We have a problem. If we could beg your indulgence..."

"What do you want of her?" Xander demanded, then jumped when Giles shoved him back.

"Be quiet, you fool," Giles hissed.

The Firoud bowed to Spike as well, then shot a doubtful glance at the others.

"Other petitioners," Spike said quickly.

"Ah." The Firoud looked relieved. "Is it permitted to speak before them, Slayer?"

Buffy shot a glance at Spike, then nodded. "If it does not bother you to do so," she said formally.

The Firoud shook his head. "It is about the Shonai." He gave Spike a beseeching glance. "The Master knows."

"The Mas..." began Xander scornfully, then shut up when Giles elbowed him hard.

"Spike is the Master. For God’s sake, will you be quiet, Xander! If you can’t, then leave."

"The Shonai is their mating ground," Spike was explaining quietly to Buffy. "They need an area close to the energy of the Hellmouth, which also has a stream of living water running through it. Can’t be just a rivulet from the sewers. Has to be a spring. As you might expect, that’s hard to find."

"And something has gone wrong with it?" Buffy asked the Firoud.

"The Ixtal have taken it."

"Ixtal?"

"‘Nother kind of demon," explained Spike. "Also live underground. Peaceful, but not exactly harmless."

"And what do they want the Shonai for?"

"They want the Shon, the...the spring," said the Firoud. "They drink the water."

"Does that pollute the water for you?" Buffy asked.

The Firoud shook its head. "No, no. We would share. But the Ixtal will not permit."

"Territorial," muttered Spike. "They’ll have driven the Firoud out. But they can find other sources of water if they have to. The Firoud need that spring to reproduce."

"I see," Buffy nodded. "I understand. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it."

"Thank you!" The Firoud bowed over and over again. "We knew...we knew...Thank you!"

"Wait," Giles said quickly as it started to bow itself out of the door. "Why did you come to Buffy with this problem?"

The Firoud gave him an incredulous glance. "But who else? She is the Joisan."

"The Overlord," murmured Spike and grinned at Buffy as the Firoud bowed himself away. "More than Master. Overlord. You claimed the title. They’ve accepted it."

"You knew."

Spike nodded. "Ruler of Sunnydale. These are the duties."

"But how did they find out?"

"Minions knew when I accepted the pax. The only one who could make a Master accept a pax is an Overlord. Word gets around."

Buffy looked at him curiously. "As Master, would the Firoud have come to you if I hadn’t claimed the Overlord title?"

"Vamps aren’t arbiters of justice for the demon community. Each species has its own rules. Tends to be a might-equals-right kind of thing on the whole. But this case is desperate enough that the Firoud might have appealed to me."

"But if there is a conflict like this, who decides? Don’t tell me," she sighed when he grinned at her. "The Overlord."

"If there is one. Didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, did you?"

"That’s why no Master ever claimed Overlordship in Sunnydale."

Spike was laughing at her. "Got it in one. Never wanted the hassle."

"Oh, dear Lord." Giles sat down hard on the couch. "Do you realize how far-reaching the implications of this might be, Buffy?"

Buffy groaned. "I’m beginning to. Do you know where this Shonai place is, Spike?"

"Yes. Pretty close to the high school, but very deep down."

"And the Ixtal’s territory must be close to it, otherwise they wouldn’t be claiming the spring. The distribution mains of the town run right across there. They shouldn’t have trouble tapping into them. Willow, can you find out how to access the closest one?"

Willow nodded. "You want to give the Ixtal an alternate source of fresh water?"

"Better if they share the spring. But if they flat out refuse, here’s an alternative, though they may have to route it in."

"I’ll have to go home to get my laptop."

"Spike’s got one here. You could use that."

"It’s all set up." Spike grinned at Willow’s surprised face. "Like to keep up to date on tech. Not in your class, Red, but I’m learning."

"Wait a minute," Xander said, from where he had dropped down onto the couch beside Giles. "Why are we helping demons? So this bunch dies out. Big deal. That just saves you some trouble, Buffy."

Spike gave him a cuttingly scornful look. "You’d let E.T. die, you wanker."

"I would not!" exclaimed Xander defensively. "Besides, he’s not a demon. He’s an alien."

"If you saw him, you’d think he was a demon. All aliens are demons to somebody. Don’t tell me if you saw a bug-eyed monster from outer space, you wouldn’t be running around looking for bazookas and calling in air strikes with nukes."

"Well, what if it was a facehugger from..."

"Oh, bo-oys!" sang Buffy. "Can we focus here, please?"

Willow was giggling. Spike grinned and Xander glared at him.

"Set me up," he muttered.

"So easy."

"The Firoud are peaceful," Willow said. "We can’t let them die."

"Okay, we don’t kill them. But we don’t have to help them either."

Willow frowned at him. "Not helping them is killing them, Xander. Same diff."

"Justice," said Buffy flatly. "A just rule."

Giles got a startled, thoughtful look on his face. Xander was silenced. Spike gave him a wide, mocking grin and went to get the laptop for Willow who immediately immersed herself in it.

"Got it," said Willow after a while. "Do you have a printer, Spike?"

"Over here."

"Let’s go pay a visit to the Ixtal," said Buffy once that was done. "Do you know where they are, Spike?"

"Yeah." He caught the axe Buffy threw him and grinned. "Getting to be your weapon of choice, Slayer."

"When facing demons. Still stakes for you guys, Spike."

"If only she’d use them," growled Xander, getting up.

"You’re not coming, whelp," said Spike as he passed, pushing Xander back down again. "Watcher can come if he likes. But not you or Red."

"Yes, I would like to come," Giles nodded, getting up with alacrity at the beguiling prospect of real life research.

"Want an axe or a crossbow?"

"Crossbow. I’d rather stay at a distance, if you don’t mind."

"Good call."

"If he’s coming, why can’t I?" Xander protested. "I’m in better shape!"

Spike gave him a scathing glance. "You’re the last person I want on a diplomatic mission, motor-mouth."

"Oh, I quite agree," muttered Giles and Xander looked wounded.

"So why are you taking weapons then?" he asked sulkily.

"Weapons are only a back-up in case diplomacy fails. I’d prefer not to be pushed into a situation where we would need to use them." Buffy didn’t look at Xander, but everyone knew what she meant. "It’s too dangerous for either you or Willow. Giles, you can come, but stay behind us, okay?"

"You’ll need a torch." Spike got one from a kitchen drawer and tossed it to Buffy, before heading for the far end of the livingroom and the door that led to the sewers.

The sewers only took them part of the way. Spike reached a certain point, then suddenly ducked behind a grating. The passage behind that only went a few yards before it suddenly made a sharp right turn and turned into undressed stone. There were no lights here and the two humans had to rely on Buffy’s torch. Spike, of course, with his vampire sight, just stepped lightly along. Giles regarded him ruefully and wondered whether it would have been smarter to stay behind and let the two of them deal with this. But the prospect of learning about a new demon culture was much too enticing to give up.

The passage was tilting downwards now so steeply that Giles found the backs of his calves aching and had to put his hand on the wall as he walked for support. He knew Spike was going slow for his benefit. Vampire and Slayer would have been a lot further ahead if he hadn’t come with them. But since there was no need for speed, they took their time, bantering and laughing as they swung lightly along side by side. At one point, Spike caught Buffy’s head in his free hand and kissed her.

Giles thought bitterly that they seemed to think they were taking a stroll in the park.

"Should we be talking so loudly?" he asked.

"We want them to know we’re coming," Buffy explained.

"Don’t want to seem like we’re sneaking up on them, Watcher. Just paying a friendly call, like. Light up ahead, Slayer."

Buffy snapped off her torch. There was indeed a reddish-orange glow coming from in front of them. She turned the torch back on again and passed it back to Giles.

"Keep it until we start going back up again, Giles. I want my hands free." She smiled faintly. "Except for the axe."

"Nest of demons," muttered Giles, definitely having second thoughts now. "If we get to the point where you have to use it, will one axe make that much of a difference?"

"Boy Scout motto. Be prepared."

"That bazooka Spike mentioned would have been better."

"Cheerful sod, aren’t you?" Spike grinned at him. "You don’t get it, Watcher. That point’s when the fun begins."

"And I thought bringing Xander along was a bad idea," sighed Giles.

They had almost reached the opening where the light was coming from. Two forms blocked it suddenly, black against the light, keeping them bottled up in the tunnel.

"Who?"

Both Buffy and Spike stepped forward at the same time so that the light fell on their faces. The forms stiffened.

"Massster. Ssslayer."

Spike made a sound like a hiss with clicks mingled in it. "Overlord," he added as a translation for Buffy and Giles.

There was definite hesitation in the guards facing them.

"Why you come?"

"To talk. Take me to your leader," said Buffy with relish.

Spike groaned. "You just had to say that, didn’t you?"

"Couldn’t resist," Buffy grinned.

There was another far longer hesitation. Then the guards withdrew far enough to allow them to leave the tunnel and step into a wider cave. Once they had taken a few steps into it though, the guards held up their hands to stop them.

"Ssstay."

One of the guards stepped back warily and called something in that hissing, clicking language. Buffy could hear bodies moving unseen outside the perimeter of this cave.

"Lead-er comesss," said the other guard.

She nodded. Behind her, she was aware of Giles remaining sensibly at the entrance to the tunnel, his crossbow in the crook of his elbow, making sure that their line of retreat remained open. At her side, Spike had dropped the head of his axe onto the ground and was comfortably leaning on its handle. She held her own axe just casually dangling at her side.

The cave was of undressed stone, lit by torches. There were several entrances and she was aware of presences now at every entrance. She looked the guards over. They were thin and tall, sinuous, almost serpentine, with clammy white hides and a spiny crest running down the back of their skulls. Despite the protection of those spines, the neck seemed the most vulnerable spot. She brushed her own neck with one fingertip and sent a query-feel to Spike. Confirmation came back over the link.

An Ixtal glided into the cave. He was larger than the others and he had a red gem embedded in the skin between his large, greenish-white eyes with their vertical pupils. A guard of eight came with him and now spread out to range themselves along the wall on that side of the cave.

"Overlord," he said and inclined his head formally in greeting. His accent was better than that of the guards. Buffy nodded back as regally as she could. "Why have you come?"

"We have a problem. Spike, please explain it to him in his language, so that there won’t be any possibility of misunderstanding."

Spike did so. When he had finished, there was a long silence while the Ixtal stared at Buffy. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking: the blank, snakelike eyes were unreadable.

"The water is ours," he said at last.

"You will share," Buffy said flatly. "Or you will find another source. If you wish, you can tap into city water at this point." She held the printout towards him. "But you would have to pipe it down here."

He took the printout and scrutinized it thoroughly. After a while, he said, "Why do you interfere, Overlord?"

"The Firoud petitioned me. Their species would die out without this water. Yours will not. Share or find another source."

There was another long pause. Then he looked at Spike. "In other times such disputes happened, you Masters of the Dark Ones said that the prize goes to the strongest."

"Times change," said Spike.

The Ixtal hissed, an angry sound. "You stand with her."

"I stand with her," said Spike. "Always."

The Ixtal looked at the two of them standing easily shoulder to shoulder. The spines of his crest lifted and fell, rattling.

"She is the Overlord and she has the right to ask this of you," Spike said. His voice had changed, the North London accent falling away into surprisingly cultured, far more formal tones to reflect the seriousness of the situation. "You are good fighters. But can you fight all those she can bring against you? My people will do as I command and move against you. And so will others. She is Lord. She can call them. Do you wish her to do that?"

Buffy didn’t show her surprise at the idea of demons following her orders, but sent a query-feel over the link. His affirmation came back, no doubt about it at all.

"Do you declare war, Salis?" Spike said and again the formality of his voice accentuated the gravity of his words.

Nictitating membranes slid back and forth once over the Ixtal’s eyes.

"It is so small a thing," he said peevishly to Buffy. "Why do you concern yourself with it?"

"It is no small thing to the Firoud." She looked at him sternly. "Today I make a request of it, Salis. Tomorrow it will not be a request. Share or find another source."

His spines rattled as they lifted and then fell again.

"We will share," he said heavily.

"Excellent decision," muttered Giles in the background. Buffy felt Spike’s amusement over the link.

"Thank you," she said courteously to Salis. "I am grateful."

"And will you then take our part on another occasion if we ask it of you?" the Ixtal asked.

"Of course. If the request is reasonable and the cause is just."

"Justice," muttered Salis. "That in itself is unreasonable."

"New day, old sod," said Spike happily, his voice back to normal. "You’ve got yourself a human Overlord and you know what they’re like."

"Mated," remarked Salis, studying the two of them. "I heard this. It is true?"

"‘Fraid so," Spike nodded.

"You are a brave man."

"You have no idea."

"Hey!" said Buffy and Salis made a hissing sound that was clearly a laugh.

"You will feast with us?"

"Er..." said Giles, but Spike flung an arm around Buffy’s neck and tossed his axe upwards gaily.

"Oh, sure! You’ll love what they use for booze," he said to Buffy. "No alcohol content, but some rush!"

A little while later, to Giles’ hidden misgivings, they were seated on ornately carved chairs in front of an intricately carved stone table, with the Ixtal ranged all around them, in a much wider hall, this one of dressed stone with exquisitely carved pillars supporting the weight of the roof overhead.

"Look at the carving!" Giles muttered to Buffy. "Beautiful work and very unusual designs."

"This is one of your wise men?" Salis asked.

"Well..." said Spike.

"Yes!" said Buffy, glaring at him, and Spike laughed. "He’s interested in your culture."

"So." Salis called something and a smallish, bent Ixtal made his way through the crowd to seat himself beside Giles. "He is one of our wise men and he speaks your language. You may ask him what you like."

Platters of food were being set before them now.

"Not the red stuff," Spike said quickly. "Tastes terrific, but does weird things to human insides."

Those platters were hastily removed from in front of Buffy and Giles. Spike dug into his happily.

"Er, Spike?" called Giles, uneasily eying the food in front of him.

"Oh, it’s safe, Watcher. If it tastes good, eat it. Just don’t ask what it is," he added softly in Buffy’s ear.

"Long as it’s not human," she murmured back and he laughed.

"Won’t be. Not like us vamps, the Ixtal."

Music was being played on unfamiliar instruments that had Giles fascinated, and some of the Ixtal were dancing to it. The music was sibilant and every now and then had an odd, atonal note, but there was a melody to it that was pleasant and a slow but recognizable beat. The dancing was fluid and sinuous and beautiful to watch.

The food was tasty and there was water to wash it down. Buffy ate cheerfully without asking questions and even Giles seemed to like it. Towards the end of the meal, a wide shallow goblet began making the rounds, greenish fumes rising from it.

"Ah," said Spike with relish. "You’ll like this, Slayer. Breathe the fumes, take a sip—a small sip, mind—then pass the cup along."

Buffy did so. "Whoa!" she said and Spike grinned at her. A giddy, euphoric feeling had begun to sing through her veins. Everything suddenly acquired a golden glow and she felt as if she were floating.

"Best of all, no hangover in the morning," said Spike.

The Ixtal who were dancing were now moving all connected by their arms across each other’s shoulders, weaving intricate patterns that became ribbons of glowing color in Buffy’s hazy eyes, like a flowing kaleidoscope shifting and changing. The goblet came around again.

"A very small sip, pet. You’re not used to it."

"Oooh." Her blood seemed to be shimmering in her veins. She leaned on his shoulder. "You’re glowing."

"Am I?" He laughed at her.

"Mm. You’re beautiful with all the golden lights, you know that?"

He was, with that vivid grin and that long dimple slashing down his cheek as he laughed and the creases fanning out from the corners of those flame-blue eyes over the supermodel cheekbones. She was seeing him suddenly with hypersensitive perception and it was lovely.

He caught her to him and kissed her. It thrilled right through her, an unbelievable sweetness shivering through her every nerve. She seriously considered pulling him off his chair and onto the ground.

"Oh, God, Watcher’s had too much!"

Giles was up and dancing, with wild enthusiasm and an entire lack of skill, his jerky, angular movements contrasting hilariously with the fluidity around him. Buffy and Spike held each other and laughed themselves sick. Even Salis was hissing with amusement as he watched.

"We’d better get him home before we have an interspecies incident," Buffy giggled. "Salis, that was wonderful. Thank you."

He bowed. "We were honored."

Spike retrieved the crossbow, slung it over his shoulder, then scooped up his axe. Buffy found hers, then they went and grabbed Giles with their free hands.

"Going home, Giles."

"So soon?" Giles squinted down at her. "But I was just getting limbered up."

"Getting legless, more like," grinned Spike as Giles swayed widely. "Just hold onto us, Watcher."

"Feel like dancing," Giles protested.

"Well, dance your way up the tunnel, mate."

Giles did so, weaving happily. Since Buffy was weaving also, though not quite as badly, it made for a very uneven gait. Spike was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

"Not so bad when he’s sloshed, your Watcher," he said. "Must say I like him that way."

Giles was hanging on their necks now, just to keep upright. He hugged Spike with the arm he had around his neck.

"I like you too. You’re very nice. And very pretty with all those golden lights."

Spike snickered helplessly. "Watcher, if you even try to kiss me, I’ll knock you cold and sling you over my shoulder to get you home."

Giles pouted.

"Oh, God." Buffy couldn’t help giggling. "He’s going to forget all that research he did."

"No, he won’t. The good thing—and, maybe, the bad thing—about Ixtal booze is that you don’t forget anything. ‘S not like regular booze. You don’t get a hangover and it doesn’t blank out your brain. You just get high. He’ll remember. Every detail. Prolly want to shoot himself in the morning, he’s gonna be so embarrassed."

They made it into Buffy’s flat and Willow and Xander leaped to their feet.

"You’re okay!" Willow exclaimed. "Did everything go all right?"

Buffy nodded. "They’ll share the spring with the Firoud."

Xander frowned at Giles hanging onto Buffy and Spike. "Is Giles hurt? Did you get in a fight?"

Giles squinted at them. "The two of you are very pretty too. Everything’s very pretty. Golden sparkles everywhere."

"Giles!" Willow’s jaw dropped. "Are you drunk?"

"No!" said Giles, affronted. "But everything’s so pretty."

"Yes, he is," sighed Buffy. "Um, would the two of you mind taking him home? I’m kind of shaky on my feet myself right now."

"Uh, sure."

Giles transferred his grip to Willow and Xander, and they guided him to the door.

"He might try to kiss you," Spike called after them. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Xander gave him a horrified look. "You’re kidding, right?"

"Wanted to kiss me," Spike grinned.

Xander looked as if he were going to drop Giles’ arm and make a run for it.

"But I wouldn’t worry," said Spike. "I don’t think you’re his type."

"That was mean," laughed Buffy as the door closed behind an amused Willow, a beaming Giles and an appalled Xander.

"Wouldn’t be right not to warn them."

He reached out and ran the flat of his hands deliberately from her collarbone down across her breasts, over her abdomen and across her hips to the back of her thighs, then pulled her against him. She almost melted into a puddle on the floor, electric tingles crackling through every cell in her body.

"Ooh! Golden sparkles was right." She leaned against him, stroking his face and then his shoulders, felt him vibrating against her.

"Fireworks more like." He gathered her into his arms and kissed her breathless, bending her back over his arm.

"Oh, wow! How much of that stuff did you have?" She could feel him just fizzing with electricity over the link.

"Considerably more than your Watcher." He scooped her up, carried her into the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced and he caught her foot and began to drag her boot off. "But I’m used to seeing golden sparkles when I look at you, golden girl."

She lay back, dreamily pulling her tank top over her head while he finished pulling off her boots. Everything in the little bedroom had a shimmer of golden light around it.

"Is it a drug, that drink of theirs? I feel like I’m drugged."

‘Nah." He had discarded his duster and Docs, and was now working on her jeans. "Just their version of booze. Non-addictive. An enhancer, that’s all. Everything feels good."

"It really does."

He had removed her jeans and thong in one smooth movement, stepped back to pull his own jeans and T-shirt off. She unsnapped her bra and threw it away, then held out her arms as he did that lazy, leopard prowl up the bed to her. He folded down on top of her and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, laughing.

"Gonna take my time," he purred. "You’ll love this."

"Starting to believe that."

Every inch of skin where they touched tingled and sparked. He ran his open mouth down her throat, then back and forth over her collarbone. She quivered and arched involuntarily. Her blood seemed to have turned to quicksilver, glittering and gleaming through her veins. She ran her hands down his back and felt him shiver and push against her. The claim picked up his pleasure and fed it to her, just as it was feeding him hers.

"Ohh!" she sighed. "Either the claim or the drink. The two of them together is too much! I feel like I’ve got one of those Fourth of July sparklers going off in my brain."

He laughed and stroked her breast, just a light touch, but it flickered through her like an electric charge. "Where’s that Slayer stamina?"

"Long gone."

They coiled around each other, hands and mouths running over skin that thrilled and sang. Nerve ends firing off and not having time to settle before the next reverberation shuddered through them, friction piling sensation upon sensation, a spiral of unbearable sweetness spinning higher and higher.

He caught the backs of her knees and lifted them, then instead of coming into her as she expected, suddenly slid downwards and bit the inside of her thigh. The sensation of his fangs sliding lightly into her flesh was both a shock and an unbearable rapture.

"Oh, God!"

Then his lips and his tongue were on her clit and two long fingers slid into her, searching for then finding that one spot of sensitive tissue inside her.

"Oh my God!"

She felt him smile against her, felt his delight and his laughter over the link. Then her brain shorted out as her climax hit her.

"Spike!"

She came back to herself as he slid up her again, his hips settling into hers in that nestling movement, his hands gentling her through the aftershocks.

"Oh, God, Spike, that was...Mmm," she purred as he moved over her with intent, his eyes smiling. "Oh, yes..."

He thrust into her in one slow, deep stroke and she arched to him, every nerve sparking and quivering. He flung his head back, eyes closed, and the claim threw her the intensity of his pleasure. She felt him pistoning into her, felt him feeling her. They strained against each other, gasping against each other’s faces, the blood in their veins blazing like wildfire, lost in each other’s sensations, one being. She felt him shudder and pulse within her, bit the claim mark on his neck and felt him blank right out in one convulsive jolt of ecstasy just as her own brain seized up.

She came back to herself to find him heavy upon her, still partially erect within her and starting to move again.

"I think my brain’s fried," she muttered and he laughed breathlessly against her jaw.

"Again, Slayer."

"Oh, God, no. I think I’d die."

But his fangs slid into the claim mark on her neck and her whole body arched to his with the ecstatic rapture that sang through her veins as he drank—and she didn’t care if she died. She just wanted this to go on forever.



TBC

Chapter 3

"Busy night?" asked Willow, grinning, lifting an eyebrow at the sight of the dark circles under Buffy’s eyes.

Buffy blushed. "You can say that again."

Willow looked over to where Spike was coming through the swing doors of the library and grinned even wider when she saw dark circles under his eyes too.

"What?" said Spike, noticing her stare.

"You look...worn out."

Spike snickered. "Oh, yeah. Five hours straight can..."

"Spike!"

He ducked, laughing, as Buffy flew at him, fending off her hands as she tried to cover his mouth and shut him up.

"Red knew already."

"Well, you don’t have to tell the world! Ooh!" she gasped as he retaliated, a flood of vivid feelings and images of what they had been doing all night coming over the link. Her whole body heated. "Stop that!"

"What’s he doing?" asked Willow interestedly.

"Playing games." She pushed at him and they wrestled, laughing.

"Getting all hot and bothered, Slayer? Pity Watcher’s office has a window. Would have liked to do you on top of his desk."

"I wouldn’t have thought that would stop you," Willow murmured and Spike laughed.

"It doesn’t." He sighed deeply. "She’s the one with inhibitions."

Willow giggled helplessly and Buffy gave her a reproachful glance.

"You’re as bad as he is."

Spike fell against a table, then hooked a hip on it and pulled Buffy around to lean back against him, his arms about her waist and his chin on her shoulder. She smiled and turned her head to rub her face against his. Xander came in the swing doors and winced at the sight, but said nothing.

"He’s learning," said Spike softly in Buffy’s ear.

"About time," she muttered back.

Giles, following Xander in, caught sight of them and went bright red as the memory of his conduct last night came back. "Um, good afternoon, Buffy. Spike. How are you today?"

"Nothing like good old British pretending-that-nothing-happened," murmured Buffy in Spike’s ear and he grinned.

"Aside from going at it like rabid minks, they’re fine," chirped Willow, then ducked away, laughing, as Buffy swatted at her.

Xander looked sick and Giles started polishing his glasses.

"And then there is the good old American rub-in-whatever-happened," remarked Spike, amused. "How did you like Ixtal booze, Watcher?"

"Tactful as ever," muttered Buffy and Spike laughed unrepentantly.

"Actually," said Giles with commendable honesty, "I enjoyed it very much. Quite an experience, I must say. An interesting sensation. Very pleasurable. But to be repeated very sparingly."

"Clever Watcher. You’re right."

"But I thought you said it was non-addictive," Buffy said with surprise.

"It’s not physically addictive. But it feels so good, you can still get hooked. Feeling everything that intensely can be addictive in itself." He grinned at her. "Want me to get some more for tonight, Slayer?"

"God, another bout like last night’s and I think my heart would stop! But I see what you mean. It is tempting."

"For special occasions only. If you’re writing last night up in your Watcher’s diary, Rupert, I’d leave that part out. Wouldn’t want your Council getting tempted. I think they might fall easier than you."

Giles frowned. "Most of them would resist it quite as well as I."

"Quentin Travers and his people seem a little more susceptible to temptation," muttered Buffy.

Giles opened his mouth to protest, then said nothing. Spike looked at him thoughtfully.

"That way, is it? What does this Travers look like?"

"I might have a picture somewhere," Giles began, then looked around in surprise when Spike laughed.

"Bit like a toad, isn’t he, luv?" he said to Buffy. "Can just see him swelling up with importance."

"What did the two of you just do?" asked Giles, his eyes widening behind his glasses.

"I’ve seen Travers," Buffy explained. "So I just sent Spike a kind of...video clip of what he looks like."

"You can do that? Extraordinary!" A fanatical gleam lit his eyes. "What else can you do?"

"Oh, God!" Spike groaned. "He’s gone into research mode."

"We have to look into this,"Giles insisted. "This is too important to just ignore!"

"Giles, you can’t write up anything about the claim," Buffy said firmly.

"Oh, not for the Council. Just for my notes. This is so unique!" He pushed his glasses higher on his nose. "I’ve been stupid. I’ve been so distracted with other things. I really should be looking into the ramifications of the claim. You even asked me to, Buffy. Is it like telepathy? Can you talk to each other?"

"No. It’s just feeling, emotions, images. That’s all."

"Maybe later," Spike corrected. "Might happen. Some vamp partners do talk to each other over the link. Don’ know how the claim will work with us, she being the Slayer and all."

"Would the two of you mind my doing a few tests? I know you’re way past the Zener card and Ganzfeld experiment stage, but..."

"No, Giles," said Buffy flatly.

"Got that right," muttered Spike. "Not gonna be a bloody lab rat for you."

"But..."

"No, Watcher. Dalton!" he called in relief as a tentative, bespectacled head peered around the swing doors of the library. "Come on in."

"Not another vamp," muttered Xander resentfully. "Why not bring all the fangers in?"

"That’ll be tomorrow," said Buffy with a perfectly straight face to Xander’s horror. Spike kept his face carefully expressionless, but she could feel him laugh over the link.

"Ma’am," said Dalton, nervously ducking his head in greeting. "Spike said that the Watcher would be interested in this book."

"Book?" Giles looked around at once. "What book?"

"It’s a kind of Brachen grimoire iniquitatis," Dalton said, holding it out to him. "It’s in an odd sort of dialect, but one of the Brachens was able to give me a dictionary."

"Good Lord, this is rare!" Giles was already poring over the shabby volume, delicately turning the crumbling parchment pages within the hard wooden covers. "Do you think you’ll be able to translate it?"

"I think so."

Buffy looked at the two heads bent absorbedly over the book. She and Spike grinned at each other.

A few days later, Giles and Dalton were deeply involved in translating the grimoire, sitting shoulder to shoulder at one of the tables and passing the Brachen dictionary back and forth. Giles had even forgotten about writing up his journal in his fascination with the new book.

"Great," muttered Xander in disgust under his breath, "now they’ve got Giles being best pals with a vamp."

"There can be some benefits to that, you know," a sultry voice purred behind him.

Xander whirled and found himself staring at a tall, lovely redhead studying him thoughtfully with languorous, feline eyes.

"W-who...?"

"My name’s Carla and I’m a vamp." She reached out a hand and ran a long fingernail along his jaw. "In every sense of the word. And who are you, eye candy?"

"Zuh...Xander."

"Cute name." Her eyes ran down him, then so did her fingernails, lightly down his chest and stomach. "Very cute."

Xander found himself backed against the wall and breathing very fast. He gulped hard.

"There can be a lot of benefits being best pals with someone like me," she purred, her open mouth teasingly a fraction of an inch from his. "I could show you what they are if you like."

"No eating the Slayer’s pets," Dalton called. "You know the rules, Carla."

"Wasn’t going to eat him. Well, not exactly." She smiled into Xander’s glazed eyes. "Not...that way."

"Shouldn’t play with the food either."

"But that’s the best part." She ran her fingernails back up to Xander’s neck. Xander’s knees started to fold. "Not even the tiniest nibble? You’d like it."

"I’m sure he would. But, no, Carla," said Buffy’s amused voice behind her. "He’s off-limits."

"Oh, well." Carla drew back, shrugging, and smiled at Xander. "You would have liked it."

"Damn!" muttered Xander. He was certain sure that he would have and was feeling distinctly sorry that Buffy had arrived when she did.

"What’s up?" Buffy was asking Carla. "Did Spike send you?"

"No. Willie the Snitch asked me to come. Seems there’s a Gorvalsh near his bar and he’s scared."

"What’s a Gorvalsh?"

"Superbig demon. No brains. All grr-arrgh and nothing else." She clawed the air in demonstration. "That type. Y’know?"

"Giles?"

Giles was already searching through his books.

"They do a lot of damage," Carla said. "That’s why Willie’s freaking out. Kinda like having a wild beast roaming the streets."

"Axe time again," muttered Buffy, reaching for one.

"Here," said Giles and held a book out to her.

"Pretty," said Buffy dryly, studying the engraving he was pointing at. The Gorvalsh was massive, with a head that seemed to be mostly a maw full of triangular, shark-like teeth. "From the how-the-hell-do-you-pronounce-that dimension."

"K’t’shlk," Carla said helpfully, looking over her shoulder.

"Bless you. Have a tissue."

They grinned at each other.

"The thing is," Carla said, frowning, "portals between this dimension and that one are very rare."

"You think someone opened one?"

"I’d suspect it. Either by chance or on purpose."

"Giles, could you look into that?" Buffy hefted her axe. "While I get rid of it."

She could feel Spike, over in the factory, suddenly come to attention, picking up her warlike mood. A query-feel came over the link and she sent back reassurance and denial. A flash of negation came back immediately.

"Oh, for Pete’s sake. Carla, do me a favor. Go over to the factory and tell Spike to stay put. It’s full daylight outside. This one’s not a nightcrawler. It’ll stay in the open and he won’t be able to help."

"Right."

Willie’s bar was in one of the most run-down and seedy areas of the town. Even though it was late afternoon and there was plenty of sunlight, there were still lots of shadows in which the thing could hide, among all the narrow alleys and boarded-up buildings. She combed the area carefully, then saw a flash of movement down one alley—a hulking shape running. It knew that it was being hunted; it had that much intelligence. She went after it quickly, but cautiously.

"Slayer! Over here."

She ran to him. "Spike, go back! You can’t help me. It’s day."

"I’ll stay in the shadows. This thing’s dangerous...There it goes!"

They chased after it, Spike having to make detours to stay in the shadows. It whipped into an area that was all abandoned factory buildings, some of them three or four stories high, their windows broken and boarded.

"God, if it goes into one of those, it’ll be like a rat-hunt," Spike muttered. "Dangerous for you. Only thing good is that then I’d be able to help."

"It’s doing a King-Kong!"

The Gorvalsh had found a building that had a clutter of ropes and cables dangling off its four-storey height. It had jumped and caught a rope and was now scaling the side of the building, with gorilla-like agility.

"That was an eight foot leap," Spike said. "It’s got power."

"Slayer with an axe here. So have I. I’ve got to get in there. There’ll be stairs inside. I’ll be able to get to the roof. Stay here...Spike!"

He had pulled his duster over his head and was now racing across the sunlit street. She ran after him, cursing.

He smashed through the broken front door and rolled into the shadowed lobby of the building before he could catch fire. Buffy flung herself after him.

"Damn it! Damn it! You reckless...stupid..."

He grinned at her. "But not on fire, pet. Stairs over there."

They ran up them. It was the kind of older building where the stairs did open up onto the flat roof. The door at the top faced east, so Spike was still protected from the sun when he threw it wide. But that was as far as he could go. He looked with frustration at the blaze of sunlight pouring over the gravel of the roof. They could both see the Gorvalsh just heaving itself over the waist-high parapet that ran around the roof.

"If you could work it this way, pet, and shove it into the stairwell, then I could help you."

"I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee it. Right." She hefted the axe and stepped out into the sunlight. "Come on, Big Ugly. Want to play?"

The Gorvalsh hissed and threw itself at her. She slashed at it and danced away. It made another hissing sound when the axe cut it, kept hissing like a steam boiler as it struck at her; it didn’t seem to have any other voice. It was fast despite its bulk and it had long arms, which she couldn’t allow to reach her, for then it would drag her towards those steel-trap jaws and their gnashing teeth. But with the axe, her reach was longer and she was able to keep it at bay.

She couldn’t get it anywhere near the stairwell where Spike could help her. It was aware of his presence there and knew him to be an enemy, refused to be either lured or pushed in that direction. She could feel Spike’s frustration and worry vivid across the link.

It had a metal collar around its neck, almost like a dog collar, except made out of thick squares of steel, two inches deep. There were gashes across it as if the Gorvalsh had been clawing at it, unsuccessfully trying to get it off. The collar made it difficult to cut its head off and yet the neck seemed to be the most vulnerable part of it. She had to aim for that fractional space between the collar and its jaw, a tricky target to reach.

Spike yelled suddenly and crashed his fist against the metal door of the stairwell. The Gorvalsh whipped its head around to stare at him and there it was—that tiny extra inch as it craned its neck. Buffy struck hard and accurately into that space. The blow took its head half off and sent her staggering away from it towards the parapet. The Gorvalsh hit the ground with a thud of flesh and a clash of metal, spasming wildly as it died.

Buffy put out a hand on the wall to keep her balance and laughed at the look of relief on Spike’s face.

The Gorvalsh blew up.

It was an explosion of such magnitude that, even though she was five feet away, it still knocked her right over the parapet. If she had been standing beside the Gorvalsh, she would have died. As it was, she had a four-storey fall that would make that happen anyway.

She heard Spike scream her name as she fell, both with her ears and over the link. She twisted frantically, catching for something, anything, to break her fall. Her fingers snagged the decorative ledge running around the building two storeys down, nearly slipped off it again as her weight came crashing down onto her extended arms. Then she was hanging there, gasping.

She kicked at the wall, trying for a foothold, but could find none. She looked from side to side desperately, but only the ledge stretched away on both sides; the windows both above and below were out of reach.

Something brushed her shoulder. She looked around. It was a rope.

"Grab the rope!" Spike shouted. "Buffy! The rope!"

She looked up and saw him leaning over the parapet, the other end of the rope that he had thrown her wound around his hands.

She caught at it, then realized that he was standing in full sunlight, right out there in the open, in the full blaze of the sun.

"Spike, get back! Spike, you’ll burn!"

"Climb!" he yelled back. "Faster you climb..."

The faster he would be able to get back to the shadows and safety. She climbed and he hauled. But, over the link, she could sense that he didn’t expect to get back. There was a stillness in him, a quiet, almost smiling acceptance. A fury filled her, that after all they had gone through, he should still burn, except here in the sun instead of at the Hellmouth.

Spike was pulling as hard as he could on the rope. He could feel the heat of the sun on his skin and he didn’t know how long he had. He only hoped he could get Buffy over the parapet before he turned to dust.

On the street below, he could see someone running towards the building. It was Giles. He didn’t know how Giles came to be here, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be able to help. Even vampire speed would not be able to make it up four storeys of stairs in time. A middle-aged Watcher, however well intentioned, would never be able to do it.

Almost there. Just a few feet more and he would have Buffy safe. He could hear Giles panting as he raced up the stairs, still two storeys short.

Got her. He caught her wrists and yanked her over the parapet. Her weight came on him and they both fell, tumbling to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Giles burst, gasping, out of the stairwell.

"Giles, your coat!" Buffy screamed at him. "I need your coat!"

"It’s all right," Spike said, amazed. "It’s all right, pet. Look! I’m not burning up!"

He held out his hands in the sunlight, staring at them in wonder. Buffy was holding him fiercely tight. There were tears on her face. Giles had bent over, his hands on his knees, wheezing from the run. They were both staring at him in disbelief.

"But how...?" Buffy whispered.

"The claim!" Giles exclaimed. "I read it, but I didn’t believe it! He can walk in the sunlight. It’s...it’s unbelievable! The two of you end up sharing traits. Then the rest of it must be true as well. If he can walk in the sunlight, then..."

"Then what, Giles?" Buffy demanded.

"You’ll stay young and live forever, the way he does. An immortal Slayer," Giles said blankly and sat down on the parapet as if his legs had given way under him.

He went on talking, harping on that, going over implications, consequences, ramifications... Neither Buffy nor Spike was listening. They were holding each other convulsively tight and all they were hearing was the terrified thought in both their heads reverberating back and forth over the link: ‘God, I nearly lost you!’

"Buffy? Buffy?"

"Oh, sorry, Giles. I wasn’t listening." She leaned her forehead against Spike’s and they both laughed softly.

"Yes, I could see that," Giles said.

Spike stroked her hair tenderly, then got to his feet and pulled her up with him. He looked up at the burning sun and laughed incredulously under his breath.

"Can’t wait to see if I freckle," he said lightly, but she could feel the wonder and amazement in him.

"Guess we’d better get down from here. Giles!" she said suddenly. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, yes. That little Firoud, the one who came before? He came looking for you, but you had just left. It seems that one of his people had come across the Gorvalsh and smelled something unusual. Dimethyldinitrobutane."

"Di-what?"

"It’s a detection taggant that’s added to certain explosives so that security dogs who are searching for them can sniff them out. The Firoud apparently have similar olfactory capabilities. He came to tell you about it. He missed you. But when his people sent word that you were in this area, I came to warn you."

"Explosives! The Gorvalsh blew up."

They all looked at the smoking remains of the Gorvalsh. There was very little left.

"They don’t usually," said Spike dryly.

"It had a collar around its neck. Thick squares of metal that could have held something. Rigged to blow if I hit it, maybe? The collar hit the ground really hard when it was throwing itself around like that while it was dying."

"Or rigged to blow when it died," Spike suggested. "They could have had some sort of system to detect that. You would normally have been standing right over it. The blast would have taken you out too."

"They who? Who would want to do that?"

"Hard to get that kind of device or make one," Giles mused. "Very sophisticated."

"Certainly not a vamp or a demon," said Spike. "We all tend to be pretty straightforward. Fangs and claws, that kind of thing. Could it be those government people you were talking about, luv? This would be right up their alley."

"The Initiative?" Buffy shook her head. "Can’t be. They’re not even here yet."

"Someone opened a portal. Someone brought the creature through into our world. That’s what Carla said. But it’s odd." Giles bit thoughtfully at the earpiece of his glasses. "Anyone who uses magic wouldn’t be that familiar with technology this sophisticated, and anyone who knows the technology normally wouldn’t know magic. They don’t usually go together."

"Is there any way of finding out who opened the portal, Giles? That would probably be the best place to start."

"I do know a few people I could ask," Giles nodded. "There’s a couple of covens in England who might be able to detect and pinpoint that kind of magical disturbance."

"Do it fast, Watcher," growled Spike. "Might happen again." He nodded as Giles’ eyes widened. "If someone’s gunning for my girl, we wanna take ‘em out quick, before they get lucky."

"Oh, good Lord, yes!"

"We were lucky this time. If she hadn’t been standing five feet away when that thing blew up..."

"If you hadn’t thrown me a rope," Buffy murmured, her arms tight about his waist. "If you hadn’t been immune to sunlight..."

He kissed the top of her head. "Too many ifs for comfort."

They made love with fierce intensity that night, too aware of how much they could have lost.

"Be careful. Be careful out there," he muttered against her mouth. "Couldn’t bear it if..."

"I’ll be careful," she promised.

"Love you. Love you so much, pet."

This Spike and the Spike who had burned up in the Hellmouth were the same. Never doing things halfway. No soul, but loving utterly, ready to sacrifice himself for her without a thought. She held him so tight that she would have broken his ribs if he had been an ordinary human. He just laughed.

"And I love you, Spike! I’m not going to let anyone take this away from us, not after all we’ve gone through!"

Neither of them had remembered at the time that they would both die if one of them did. That was not the way their minds worked. All either one of them had thought about was the other.

"We find this wanker, ‘m gonna rip his head off," he muttered.

But it was Spike who got attacked the next time.

It was a couple of nights later and Buffy and Giles were at her flat. Willow and Xander had just arrived and Buffy was just reaching into the box of donuts that Xander had brought when a jolt of pain and surprise came over the link.

"Spike!" she gasped, jerking upright.

Xander dropped the box. "What?"

Buffy was already racing up the stairs. Spike was furious, slashing out at someone. A jumble of images was coming across the link—men’s faces, a dark street, a broken sign. All the images were oddly hazed and cloudy, but she recognized the sign: ‘Threads.’ An abandoned store not two streets away. He had been on his way to the flat.

Stakes! She glimpsed them through his eyes.

He ducked the first one, then a blinding wave of pain came over the link.

"No!" she screamed, hurtling through the streets.

The pain didn’t stop, but she could still feel him hitting out at someone. He was still there! He wasn’t dust!

"Spike!"

Then she saw him. Sagging against a wall. There was a clatter of heels receding into the night as three forms raced away down the dark streets.

"Buffy." He grinned at her as she reached him. "‘S all right. Didn’t get the heart."

She caught him as he bent over in pain. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Groggy." He yanked the stake out from under his ribs and threw it away angrily. "Bloody hurts. Jumped me. Ran when they heard you. Sodding cowards."

She looked in the direction the attackers had fled, her teeth clenched in a snarl. "I’ll..."

"They’re humans. You can’t let yourself hurt them." He leaned on her shoulder and grinned nastily. "Besides, they’re already sorry. Cut ‘em up a bit, bust a few bones. They’ll be hurting a lot longer than I will."

"Can you walk?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Let’s get you back to the flat."

He took a step and swayed wildly. "Bit wobbly, like. Shot some stuff into me."

She looked to where he was pointing and saw a hypodermic syringe lying on the ground. Xander and Willow came running up, with Giles panting behind them.

"Xander, help me get him to the flat."

Xander nodded and, without question, got his shoulder under Spike’s free arm.

"Willow," Buffy called back as they began to move towards the flat, "bring that hypo, but be careful. Don’t prick yourself on the needle. We don’t know what’s in there."

"Right."

The minute they got back to the flat, Giles was studying the syringe.

"There’s still a little of whatever they injected into him left," he said, holding the syringe up to the light. "I wonder..."

Buffy was easing Spike’s T-shirt off.

"Whoa!" Willow gasped when the wound was revealed. "That must hurt, Spike!"

"Bloody does," he agreed. "But it’ll heal up in a couple of days."

Giles had slipped the needle out of the syringe and was sniffing delicately at the contents.

"I know what this is," he said. "It’s an immobilizer."

"Is that why I’m feeling so groggy?" Spike gave the syringe a dirty look.

Giles gave him a puzzled one. "Just groggy? You shouldn’t be able to move."

"Yeah, they were surprised too. Jumped me, shoved that stuff in me, then seemed kinda upset that I didn’t just lie there and let myself be staked."

"Maybe the stuff doesn’t work on vamps," Xander suggested.

"But it should," said Giles. "It’s one of the two or three poisons that do work on vampires. What kind of blood have you been drinking, Spike?"

Spike grinned at him. "Slayer blood. What else?"

"Eww!" exclaimed Xander. "Buffy! You let him drink from you?"

"Yes, of course. It’s a real rush." She grinned at Xander’s horrified face.

"No wonder it didn’t take," Giles said. "Slayer blood’s the antidote."

"Probably shouldn’t even be feeling groggy," said Buffy, finishing bandaging Spike. "Must be low on gas. Wanna top up? It would be good for the stake wound as well."

"Oh, yeah." He pulled her across him, grinning, so that she was leaning back against his chest, then slid his lips down her neck.

"Oh, God, do you have to do that?" groaned Xander, looking sick as Spike’s fangs sank into the claim mark on Buffy’s neck. Even Giles looked queasy.

"Looks like they’re both enjoying it, Xand," remarked Willow, looking on thoughtfully.

"Like I said, a real rush," purred Buffy, her eyes half-closed sensuously as Spike drank.

Spike retracted his fangs, licked the wound to close it, then kissed Buffy underneath her ear. She giggled.

"Worked. Not groggy anymore," he announced and laughed at the looks on Giles’ and Xander’s faces.

"Please do that in private the next time," said Giles plaintively.

"Almost hurled," Xander muttered in agreement.

"So these guys that jumped you," Willow said, tactfully changing the subject. "They were human?"

Spike nodded. "That’s why I wasn’t paying attention. Aside from the Slayer, no human is any kind of threat to us. Got to be the same ones who put that explosive collar on the Gorvalsh’s neck. Too much of a coincidence otherwise."

"I don’t know," Xander objected. "Could be just some vigilantes got it in for vamps."

"Like Gunn’s street gang or Wesley being a rogue demon-hunter, you mean?" said Buffy.

"Who?" everyone asked, puzzled, and she shook her head, laughing a little.

"Sorry. Other reality." She frowned thoughtfully. "Spike’s right. It’s too much of a coincidence. Giles, did that coven of yours come up with anything?"

"Not yet. Whoever opened that portal and brought the Gorvalsh through did it very professionally. The coven hasn’t been able to find any traces. It’s not some novice."

"Experts," said Buffy. "I can understand why they targeted me. But why should they jump you, Spike?"

"To get me out of the picture, maybe. Make it easier to get to you. They meant to dust me."

"But that suggests that they know what we are to each other."

"Well, it isn’t that big a secret, with all the vamps and demons knowing."

"But they wouldn’t talk to humans," said Giles. "And these men were human."

"Someone’s behind them," Spike growled. "Those three, they were just muscle. No mastermind there. We’ve got to find out who, Watcher. The next time they might not miss."

The next time they didn’t.

Buffy was ambushed on her way to school two days later. Spike was asleep in the flat, but the jolt of shock and anger that came over the link brought him awake in a flash. He tore into his clothes, seeing the images coming over the link: the street half a block away from the high school; the unmarked, black van parked at the curb; the faces of the three men coming at her, faces that he recognized. The images were hazy, with a grogginess that was familiar to him. They had managed somehow to drug her too. He ran, forgetting even his duster in his haste.

He was too late. Her vision went black before he could get halfway there and, by the time he got to where they had attacked her, the street was empty and the van gone.

The only thing that remained to show what had happened was a small dart lying on the pavement.



TBC

Chapter 4

"It’s not a poison," said Giles. He had called in a couple of favors to get the sticky substance on the tip of the dart analyzed by a friend of his as quickly as possible. "It’s a sedative. Strong enough to knock out an elephant. They knew what she’s capable of. At least they don’t mean to kill her this time."

Spike had ripped him out of the school and they were both at the flat now. Giles had come up with a plausible excuse to allow Willow and Xander to cut class and they too were here. They had all agreed not to tell Joyce about it until the end of the day. She would insist on calling the cops and this was not a police matter.

"Doesn’t mean they won’t," Spike growled. "They started out trying to kill her. That means they’ll be willing to do it any time she causes them trouble."

"What do they want her for?" Xander asked and Giles made a helpless gesture.

"I have no idea. We don’t even know who they are. Spike, can you see anything over the link?"

"No. Buffy’s out cold. I can only see what she sees, feel what she experiences. She’s alive though, I can tell that much, and they haven’t harmed her except for pumping that stuff into her."

"That van," said Xander. "They put her in that."

Spike nodded. "The Firoud say so. Her scent disappears at the curb. They say the scents of those three guys stop as well. They all got into the van. Buffy only saw the side of the van, so I don’t have any idea what the licence number is or even the make."

"They could be taking her out of town."

Spike shook his head. "She’s still in Sunnydale. I can feel that. I’ve got Ano-Movics watching all the roads out of town and, if I feel anyone’s trying to take her out of Sunnydale, they’ll stop every car leaving town. They don’t mind the sun and they look human, so they can pretend to be cops. The Firoud are checking all the hotels and motels for the scent of those three guys and if they find it, I’ll have my vamps go in and check the rooms. But I don’t think they’ll be in any place as public as a hotel room. The Brachen, Listers and Krasevics are checking out all the warehouses and abandoned factories, places like that. Got others with a good sense of smell working their way through the sewers. We’ll find her."

Willow had her laptop set up on a table. "I’ve got the Sunnydale map up."

"Will that toy of yours let you co-ordinate the search, Red?"

"Yes."

"Good. We’ve got the net out now. We’ll drag it tighter, see what comes up."

The flat became a hive of activity, the hub of the search. Spike had it tightly organized. Giles watched in bemusement as demons of all sorts and shapes reported in and went out again.

"Why are they helping?" Xander whispered to him, but Giles only shook his head in bafflement. "Is it because Spike’s the Master? But he’s only the Master of the vamps."

"Boy, you can be dumb," said Willow scornfully. "It’s not because of Spike. It’s because of Buffy. She’s been good to them. They’d rather have her around than some new Slayer who doesn’t know them like she does. She’s smart. She doesn’t think that the only good demon’s a dead demon."

Giles looked as if he had swallowed a fly. Spike grinned at him.

"Growing up, are you, Watcher? Can be painful, that."

His head came up suddenly.

"She’s coming around!"

"Is she all right?" Willow, Giles and Xander asked immediately, in chorus.

"Groggy."

He sent a surge of reassurance and concern across the link, like a hand stretched in support, and felt her lean against it, felt her smile, then the rush of warmth and reassurance that came back.

"Damn! I wish we could talk across the link! She’s looking around now, trying to show me where she’s at. She’s on the floor on a blanket in some big empty space. They’ve got her hands handcuffed behind her back, some kind of fetters on her ankles. I can feel all of that." Images were coming now. "It’s dim, but there’s sunlight coming through busted windows. Warehouse. It’s some kind of warehouse."

He nodded to Brian, waiting at the door that let to the sewers. The word went out, the search narrowing.

"Someone’s coming. Those three guys. The ones that jumped me. Left my mark on them," said Spike with satisfaction. "Couple of broken arms. Wait! Someone’s coming up behind them. The big cheese probably. Yeah, there he..."

He spun suddenly, grabbed Giles with both hands and slammed him against the wall. Giles gasped, all the breath knocked out of him.

"What...?"

"Travers! It’s Travers, Watcher! You told him!"

"I didn’t!"

Xander had jumped forward and was pulling at Spike, trying to get him away from Giles. Spike shoved him away without even looking, so hard that he staggered back and fell into an armchair.

"Impossible!" Giles gasped. "It can’t be Travers!"

"Don’t you remember? Buffy showed me what he looked like. I know the man and it’s Travers!"

Xander was trying to get up to come to Giles’ rescue, but Willow ran to him and held him where he was. She knew that Spike was in a killing mood.

"Giles wouldn’t have told him, Spike!" she called to him. "He wouldn’t put Buffy in danger!"

"I didn’t!" Giles exclaimed. "I swear!"

His shock and complete sincerity were clearly evident. Spike let him go abruptly.

"All right."

"How did he find out?" Giles muttered. "Why is he doing this?"

"How is not important right now. Why? Because she’s an immortal Slayer that he can’t control. Buffy said it herself. He wants an obedient Slayer. He tried to kill her first with that Gorvalsh. Now he’s probably thought better of it. Probably plans to do tests on her before killing her. Not all the Council’s with him, otherwise he wouldn’t have tried to make it seem an accident with the Gorvalsh. Should have thought of him before. Only the Council has that mix of magic and tech. Call your Council, Watcher. Tell them what’s going on."

"Yes," mumbled Giles, heading for the phone. "Yes."

"Airport. That’s where he’ll be heading. That’s how they’ll take her out of here. Not by road. By air. He’ll have hired a plane." Spike snapped his fingers at Brian. "Find out which one. Disable it."

Brian disappeared, taking a mixed lot of demons with him.

"Now we just have to find out which warehouse."

"We’re almost there, Spike," Willow said, checking the screen of her laptop, which showed the net tightening.

He sent that over the link to Buffy. "Soon."

Buffy smiled. She was watching Travers leaning back comfortably in a wooden chair, sipping at tea that his lackeys had provided him. Looking him over, Buffy thought with amusement that Spike was quite right: he did look a little like a toad, especially puffed up with importance and satisfaction as he was.

"Don’t bother pulling at those handcuffs, Miss Summers," Travers said, noticing how she was flexing her shoulders. "I am familiar with Slayer strength and have taken that into consideration. Those cuffs won’t break. And if you show any signs of resisting, I will simply have you put to sleep again."

"That would be a shame. I would hate to miss seeing you get your comeuppance."

"Braggadocio is a weakness. But then you have many weaknesses. You are a disappointment to us, Miss Summers. Merrick or Giles should have trained you properly, but neither of them had the right stuff."

"And you do."

"Quite. But I don’t waste my time on poor material. I don’t know how a creature like you could have been chosen to be a Slayer. Sometimes the thought processes of the Powers That Be elude me. But that you should choose to mate yourself to a vampire is...beyond the pale. You are an abomination, Miss Summers, and will be eliminated."

"And you are a dead man, Travers."

"You won’t kill me. You won’t kill a human. But you’re counting on your vampire, aren’t you? I wouldn’t, Miss Summers. Please note that it is bright day outside and there is no access from the sewers to this warehouse. He would have to wait for nightfall and we will be long gone by then."

So he didn’t know that Spike was immune to the sun now. She smiled to herself.

"How did you know about Spike and me? Giles wouldn’t have told you."

"Indeed he did not. He failed in his duty and he will lose his job for that. Did you think we would not keep an eye on the Hellmouth, especially with a Slayer such as yourself as its guardian?"

"So you had spies watching us. And would they have been demons? The same demons you are supposed to eradicate?" She smiled when she saw his eyes shift. "You’re quite the hypocrite, Mr Travers. To treat with the ‘enemy’."

"I use them, Miss Summers."

"And eliminate them once their usefulness is over."

"Of course."

She shook her head. "I truly have more respect for demons than I have for you."

"And I have no interest in your opinion. The opinions of a laboratory rat are immaterial."

"When did you decide that, by the way? A while back, you were all for blowing me up."

"How did you avoid that? Chance?" He shrugged when she nodded. "The one thing you do have, Miss Summers, is luck. There is no other explanation for your success. But it seems to have run out. It occurred to me last night that this was the perfect opportunity to analyze a Slayer. No one has yet done a proper clinical study of one. You may find it a long, arduous and somewhat painful process. But it’s all in a good cause."

"Somehow I really can’t see the rest of the Council agreeing to this. I think they might have something to say about it once I’m in that fancy building of yours in London."

"You’re quite right. Most of the Council do have weak stomachs. Which is why you’re not going to London, Miss Summers. The reason you’re sitting in this warehouse right now instead of being already on route to your destination is because we are arranging accommodations for you here in America." One of his lackeys came and whispered something in his ear. "Which slight delay has now been concluded. The Council will be told that the Slayer has unfortunately met her usual end and that we are having some difficulty in finding the new one that has been called. Which often happens and allows us considerable time to complete thorough testing. Tell the pilot we will be at the airfield in twenty minutes," he said to the lackey.

"Coming," said Spike in her head. It was a clear word, not just a feeling, though she could feel the triumph in him, sense him now rapidly moving closer. And in the flicker of thoughts and images in his mind, she read what he and the others had been doing.

She laughed and Travers gave her a surprised look.

"Something amuses you, Miss Summers?"

"You, Mr Travers. All that work and all you’ve done is put Sunnydale solidly in my hand."

He frowned, not understanding in the slightest, of course.

"The pilot says that there’s a delay," the lackey said. "They’re having some kind of trouble with the engines."

"Tell him to hurry," Travers said irritably. "I’m tired of sitting around waiting."

"You won’t have to wait any longer, Mr Travers," said Buffy triumphantly. "They’re here!"

Bodies crashed through the doors and windows of the warehouse. The lackeys yelled and grabbed at the crossbows they had ready. Unfortunately, the bolts loaded in the crossbows were wooden stakes, meant for the vamps Travers had been expecting. The lackeys weren’t facing vamps; they were facing Brachen, very strong, very fast, red-eyed demons, their thick, green skin covered with blue spikes. Only one bolt hit its mark and bounced harmlessly off the thick Brachen hide.

The next second, all three lackeys had been disarmed and knocked cold. Spike had Travers backed up against a wall, one hand about the man’s throat and the other leisurely fishing in his vest pocket. He came up with the key to the handcuffs and tossed it to a Brachen who came over and unlocked Buffy from her restraints.

"But it’s day!" Travers was gasping. "How...?"

"Little bonus that came with the claim." Spike grinned. As he was in full gameface, the grin vividly emphasized the length and sharpness of his fangs. Travers stared in horror, struggling against Spike’s grip. It did him no good at all. Spike was far too strong.

"You gonna turn him?" one of the Brachen asked with interest.

Spike tilted his head to one side thoughtfully and Travers gasped.

"You can’t turn me! I’m a Watcher!"

"That’s an incentive, that is," said Spike. "Think of all the secrets a vampire Watcher could spill."

Travers went white at the thought. "Miss Summers! Miss Summers, you can’t let him do that!"

"Spike," said Buffy, amused, "stop playing."

"Not much of anything, is he? Wouldn’t turn you," Spike said, looking Travers up and down in disgust. "Think I want a toad like you hanging around for eternity? Not a chance."

"Gonna eat him then?" the Brachen asked curiously and Spike shuddered with distaste.

"Yecch! Having a hard enough time holding onto him. Makes my skin crawl. Can’t even ask one of my minions to eat him. Would be a cruel and unusual punishment, and here I am trying to be a kinder, gentler vampire."

"I can see that," said the Brachen, looking at the hand that was slowly throttling Travers, and Spike laughed.

"What do you want us to do with these here lunchmeats, Slayer?" one of the other Brachen asked, rolling one of the unconscious lackeys over with a clawed toe.

"Oh, take them out and dump them somewhere they’ll have a very long and uncomfortable walk back to civilization."

"And that one?" He looked at Travers who was starting to get some of his bombast back now that he realized he wasn’t going to get either turned or eaten.

"Can’t turn him. Can’t eat him." Spike smiled sweetly at Travers. "Just have to kill him."

All the air went out of Travers. "Miss Summers! You can’t let him kill me! I’m human!"

Buffy sighed. "He’s right. I can’t let you kill him."

"He’s got too much power at the Council of Watchers. We let him go, he’ll be back in a month, trying to kill you again. And next time he’ll probably succeed."

He dropped the gameface and Travers should have felt reassured. The blue eyes watching him were human. But the cold smile in them chilled him to the marrow.

"Can’t even take your word that you wouldn’t, Travers. You don’t have any honor, don’t even have a God you can swear on. He’ll come back, pet."

"I know. And we’ll deal with it when he does."

"How many chances are you going to give him? This matter of evil. It’s not black and white. It’s all grays. He’s human. The Brachen are demons. Who would you trust, Buffy?"

"It’s not that simple."

"You’re right. It isn’t simple, is it? You’re the Slayer. He’s a Watcher. You stand for good and so should he. But he means to kill you. And I mean to keep you alive. He’s got a soul. I don’t. So tell me, which one of us is evil? Him or me?"

"Spike..."

"Maybe it is simple, after all. I won’t give him another chance at you." He broke Travers’ neck with one clean snap and let him drop. "You were saying, pet?"

"Spi-ike," Buffy sighed.

"A matter of evil. Guess I still am, pet."

She could feel no regret or guilt in him; for him, this was just something that had to be done to keep her safe and so he did it. But she could feel his fear that she might condemn him for it, turn away from him.

"No, you’re not." She stepped forward and put her arms about his waist. His arms came around her, holding her tightly to him. "In the other reality, Giles killed Ben for much the same reason. And he’s not evil."

She turned her face into the side of his neck, resting for a moment on his strength. She was so used to standing on her own feet, carrying all the burdens, that it was a deep and abiding pleasure to be able to lean on someone else even for an instant. He would never waver and it was a mutual feeling; they drew strength from each other. He smiled, picking up her thoughts, and brushed his lips against her temple.

"Worry about it later," Buffy said. "Let’s get back to the flat."

"And the carcass?" a Brachen asked, jerking a thumb at Travers’ body lying on the dusty floor.

"Leave it here for now." She picked up the blanket that she had been sitting on and laid it over the corpse. "We’ll ask Giles what the Council wants to do."

Giles was feeling quite strange. He was immensely glad to see that Buffy was all right. He stood just outside the broken-down warehouse above Buffy’s flat, watching Buffy and Spike coming down the street at the head of a motley straggle of assorted demons. It had all the elements of a triumphal procession, Buffy stopping every now and then to talk to various demons lining the street. Willow and Xander were running to meet her. In the shadows of the warehouse behind him, he could feel three of Spike’s vamps also watching; the other two were downstairs, neatening the flat now that all the comings and goings were over. It all felt distinctly odd.

He hugged Buffy as she came running up to him, nodded to Spike as the vampire passed him with a touch at his shoulder to go talk to his minions.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I guess you know it was Travers." Buffy was looking at him narrowly. "Spike killed him."

"I see. I’m glad," said Giles fiercely.

Buffy relaxed. "I thought you’d feel that way. But how will the Council feel?"

"I’ve talked to them about it, told them what’s going on. They’ve repudiated Travers. There’s a shake-up going on in those corridors of power," he said dryly. "I’ve been talking to the man most likely to succeed. A sensible chap called Rodney Mayne. He’ll back you up. He said you’re the Slayer. You call the shots."

"Not to be constantly at odds with the Council. That will be a refreshing change of pace," said Buffy as dryly. "What do you want done with Travers’ body, Giles?"

"I’ll take care of it. Send it back to London. Rodney Mayne will come up with some cover story. Er," he raised his brows at her, "I trust there are no fang marks?"

"Spike broke his neck."

"How very convenient. ‘Dear me, he tripped and fell while on vacation across the pond. Such an unfortunate accident. Terrible shame.’"

They grinned at each other.

"Looks like everything’s working out," Spike remarked that night. He was lying on his back with Buffy pulled on top on him, her legs on either side of one of his thighs, her arms around his sides, hands hooked over the back of his shoulders, and her body stretched all along his, a light, sweet, whispery weight.

"Isn’t it amazing?" Buffy raised her head to shake her hair out of her eyes and he slid his hands up her back to push it back for her. "Even Xander seems to be getting used to having demons around. There’s this one called Clem that he’s getting all buddy buddy with. Likes junk food, comic books, role playing games and marathons of weird, old TV shows."

Spike snickered. "Knew the whelp was a closet nerd."

She ran her lips slowly and teasingly over the planes of his face. He smiled and closed his eyes in pleasure, then felt her lips against his eyelids and couldn’t help purring at the sweetness of it. Her tongue traced the line of his mouth, lingering in the corners and then the indent of his upper lip. He raised his head, trying to catch her mouth with his, but she only pulled back, laughing.

"It’s strange. My personal life was always a mess, with everybody interfering with it, pushing me around, telling me what to do. I felt trussed up like a turkey. All these ties to everyone, tangling me up, pulling me this way and that. I can’t believe I allowed it to happen. All I had to do was tell them to back off and I never had the guts. Felt...chained. Dragged down by duty, obligations." She looked down at him, smiling. "Now here I am bound to you and I’ve never felt so free."

"I’m the one who’s chained, pet," he mocked, running his hands caressingly down her back from shoulderblades to knees. "You own me."

"We own each other." They kissed lingeringly. "So many more duties and obligations now..."

"Overlord," he murmured and they both laughed.

"Sunnydale in my hand and all that goes with it. And I feel free." She kissed him again. "It took losing you to find out what I really wanted. Got me so mad I’d reshape the world and tell them all to go to hell, just so I’d have you back again."

"Oh, pet." He kissed her painfully hard, then dropped his head back on the pillow to grin at her. "Scary, if I think about it. Being in bed with someone who can reshape the world."

She dug her fingers into his ribs in retaliation and he rolled her over, both of them laughing, until he was on top of her instead.

"Oh, yes," she purred. "Cover me. Yes, just like that."

He moved slowly on top of her, smiling, their bodies rubbing and sliding sinuously together. They kissed sensuously, deeply, hands running over each other.

"There, yes?" he murmured, his arms under her arching her up so that he could run his open mouth from the hollow of her throat to the bottom of her ribcage.

"Oh, yes."

She twisted to bite the flexing muscles of his shoulder. He twisted to bite her hip, coiled back upwards to suck her breast into his mouth. The claim picked up every flickering desire, exactly where and how either one of them wanted to be touched at any particular moment, sensation building on sensation in a rising spiral as they turned and twisted around each other. Mouths and hands and teeth and nails found every inch of skin, set every nerve ending firing in rapturous delirium, the claim throwing every sensation back and forth over the link in mind-blowing passes.

He gasped as she arched under him, her heel flying up for a moment to settle in the back of his knee. Her arms clenched demandingly across his back. His hands came down on the bed on either side and he came into her hard.

"Oh, God, yes, just like that," she gasped, her throat arching back as she strained against him. He filled her to the point that it was almost too much. But it was never too much, never enough. They thrust urgently against each other, half-gasping, half-laughing against each other’s faces, their delight in each other so intense that laughter was the only outlet for it.

"Buffy..."

"Oh, love..."

Her hands clawed down his back. She felt him pulse within her, felt his mind flood with blinding sensation, utterly open and naked to her, blanked out herself, falling into him, the both of them losing themselves in each other.

***

"Surveying your kingdom?" Giles asked dryly, finding her on the roof of Sunnydale High.

Buffy laughed. "Something like that."

They both looked out over the roofs of Sunnydale stretching away into the distance on every side.

"Is this the world you wanted when you decided to come back?" Giles asked.

"All I wanted was Spike," she said quietly. "This is the world that came with that. I like it. How about you? Is this a world you can live with, Giles?"

Giles frowned a little. "It’s going to take a little getting used to. When I really look at what just happened..."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Yes, what did really happen? Let’s put the worst construction on it. A bunch of vamps and demons helped thwart and kill a human—and I, the Slayer, condone it. Is that what’s bothering you, Giles?"

"I suppose so. Yes." He shook his head, trying to take it in. "I’m used to thinking humans against demons. What you’ve got now is humans and demons against...humans and demons. It feels odd."

"A matter of evil, Spike called it. That’s what it’s really about, isn’t it, Giles? Not stopping demons. Stopping evil."

There was a long silence.

"Yes," said Giles. "You’re right." He looked at her. "You’ve grown beyond me."

"I have. Catch up, Giles. I want you with me. I value your opinion and your support."

Giles nodded wryly. "I will. Spike said that growing up is painful. I think I’ve got some of that to do. All of us at the Council do. We’re trying."

"Spike says: About time."

Giles sighed. "He can hear us."

Buffy looked down, smiling, to where a white-haired figure in a black duster was striding with his patented swagger up the sunlit street towards the school.

"Oh, yes. You’re talking to both of us. The link really solidified itself last night."

"That is going to take a little getting used to as well."

She grinned a little. "New world. If Xander can make the adjustment to it, so can you, Giles."

He laughed. "Quite right. Willow didn’t seem to have any problems adjusting."

"Got to her early. She had less to unlearn."

He nodded. "Yes. That’s it, isn’t it? Unlearning, more than learning. I think...I like your new world, Buffy."

"I certainly do," said Spike, coming onto the roof. Once he was out of the sight of any bystanders, his vampire speed had got him up to the roof in no time at all.

Giles watched the two of them move together like two drops of quicksilver merging. Spike’s arm dropped easily about Buffy’s shoulders; her arm came about his waist; they leaned lightly against each other. Two halves making a perfect whole.

"Everything I ever wanted, luv, this world of yours," Spike said and Buffy smiled.

"The rulers of Sunnydale," Giles said dryly.

Buffy shook her head at him and Spike laughed. But that was what they were. He left them there, standing shoulder to shoulder, looking out over their domain.





The End