Chapter 25
 
Giles stiffly clambered to his feet. He winced when his joints reminded him in no uncertain terms that Father Time was inexorably creeping up on him. He could no longer take in his stride an extended period of sitting cross-legged on bare rock.
 
He felt a twinge of envy as Spike and Buffy both rose to their feet with graceful ease and stepped out of the spell circle.
 
Giles was putting the herbal-scented muslin pouch Tara had given him into his jacket pocket when she stopped him.
 
“Uh, Mr Giles, you need to keep it in contact with your skin. And don’t take it off for anything. That would leave you vulnerable.”
 
He glanced at Buffy, who was casually tucking her pouch into her bra. He flushed and looked away and began to feel a little silly. “Tara, I went along with this to appease your fear, but I really don’t think…”
 
“Well, I do think,” Buffy broke in, taking the amulet from his hand and hooking a finger in the neckline of his t-shirt. She tucked the pouch down inside the garment and he wriggled slightly at the sensation of it sliding slowly down his chest to lodge at the waistband of his trousers.
 
She wagged a finger at him, at which he was ready to take offence until she said gravely, “Take this seriously, Giles. Take Willow seriously. You know that Tara isn’t the type to panic for no reason.”
 
He couldn’t deny that. “Well, no. But…”
 
“No buts,” Buffy insisted. “And I think you should consider looking out some kind of… I don’t know… Is there a ‘stopping you from doing any more magic’ spell you could get ready, just in case?”
 
Before Giles could react, Tara astonished him by saying, “I – I’ve already found a binding spell. It won’t be any good if I cast it on my own, though. Willow has so much more power than me, she’d be able to break it easily.” She looked at him hopefully. “But by combining our powers, you, me and Anya might be able to hold her long enough to bring her to her senses.”
 
Giles took out his hanky and polished his glasses to give himself a few moments to think. Surely the young people were over-reacting. Although… could he in all conscience take that risk? Perhaps he should trust their instincts after all.
 
He sighed and put his glasses back on. “Very well. I still hope you’re all mistaken, but I shall make preparations for the possibility that you’re not. I left my car down on the road, so if you’d like, Tara, I could give you a lift to Xander and Anya’s flat. Then we could discuss it with Anya while you get things ready for their protection spell.”
 
Taralooked up from where she was gathering up her spell components and gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks, Giles. That would be great.”
 
After a few seconds consideration, Giles added, “Perhaps I should contact the Devon coven and ask for their advice. They might be able to lend us some power if we should need it.”
 
He suddenly found his arms full of a heavy box of assorted artefacts.
 
“A spot of research for you, Rupert,” Spike said. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder towards Tara. “Her ladyship reckons they’ve all got some kind of mojo on them.”
 
“Really? All of these? Good lord.” Giles peered down into the box, utterly fascinated.
 
“Not the scrolls. I just figured they’d suit you better than the slayer’s mum.” He smirked. “Thought they might be worthy of a watchergasm or two. But the rest, yeah. Tricky stuff, magic. Can’t cash in on ‘em ‘til we know what they do.”
 
Giles couldn’t take his eyes off the top scroll. He squinted slightly and turned his head at an awkward angle, trying to figure out what language it was written in. However the scroll was discoloured with age and the ink faded, making it impossible to distinguish in the moonlight. He was so engrossed, he hardly noticed when Spike took his elbow and steered him to the big black car.
 
“Need you to drive the DeSoto down to the road for me, mate. I’ve got to get this bloody thing to somewhere that Harris’ mate can collect it from.” He gestured at the heavily laden builders’ truck.
 
Giles took a good look at the vintage car as he placed the box on the back seat, and said, “But the windscreen is obscured. How will I see to drive?” After a beat he added, “For that matter, how do you see to drive?”
 
“I kept a bit clear where it matters. ‘Sides, you don’t need to worry about looking around for traffic and such. You’re only going straight down the slope onto the road and all you gotta worry about is avoiding the rocks in the way.”
 
With a resigned sigh, Giles closed the rear door and opened the driver’s door, but before he could get in, he was distracted by Buffy speaking to Tara.
 
“Does it matter if the protection thingy gets wet? There’s distinct need for a Buffyshower.” She toyed with a strand of grimy hair.
 
“Oh! No, you mustn’t get it wet! That would encourage mould on the… never mind.”
 
“So, what then? Should I take it off when I shower?”
 
“No! Don’t take it off until we know Willow’s safe!”
 
“So… wrap it in cling film?”
 
“Not that either. That’s synthetic and would disrupt the effect of the spell. It would need to be a natural waterproofing material.”
 
For a few seconds, Tara was deep in thought. “Latex!” she said. “That’s natural, it’s made from tree sap. A condom, Buffy. Wrap the pouch in a condom and tie it tight with a silk ribbon or leather thong, then wear it around your neck. Although… are condoms even made of latex any more?” She giggled. “It’s not exactly a field I’m familiar with.”
 
The two girls turned and looked expectantly at Spike.
 
He held his hands up defensively and took a couple of steps back. “Bloody hell! Don’t look at me, ladies! Never even used one of those contraptions!”
 
As one, three pairs of eyes turned their attention to Giles, who suddenly craved the ability to teleport himself elsewhere.
 
He cleared his throat and suddenly found his spectacles of immense interest. Was that a speck of dust on the lens? A good polish with his clean hanky would take care of that. He cleared his throat again and without looking up to meet any of the enquiring eyes focused on him, he ventured, “I believe they are now made of a variety of materials. I would advise reading the labels on the packaging.”
 
Buffy climbed up into the passenger seat of the truck saying eagerly, “Come on then. Time for a Scooby field trip to the twenty-four hour pharmacy!”
 
 
 
~*~*~*~
 
 
Buffy felt another laugh bubbling up and now that they were alone in the car; she allowed it full rein. “Oh god!” she gasped when she caught her breath. “Giles’ face when you shoved that package of extra-large black condoms under his nose and asked him whether the ribbed ones really did give your partner more pleasure! I thought he was going to faint on the spot!”
 
“Well, it seemed like a perfectly natural question to ask. How else am I supposed to learn these things?” Spike affected an innocent air but Buffy could hear the humour in his voice.
 
She batted him on the arm. “You’re so evil.”
 
Spike gave her a duh look. “Well… yeah.”
 
“Oh, my stomach hurts,” Buffy moaned breathlessly through a giggle, wrapping her arms around her middle.
 
They exchanged a look and both dissolved into helpless chuckles.
 
“It was even better than when I use the word stevedore.”
 
“Huh?”
 
Buffy saw that they were approaching her mother’s house. “Tell you later. Remind me.” As Spike parked the car she swiped the laughter tears from her cheeks and made an effort to pull herself together.
 
Carrying a box each, they climbed the porch steps and after a few seconds of awkward fumbling, Buffy shouldered the front door open.
 
“Hey, Mom! Come check this out!” She led Spike into the dining room and dumped her box.
 
Following her lead, he started unloading items and arranging them on the table.
 
“Buffy!” Joyce said as she turned the corner into the dining room. “I didn’t think that I’d see you until…. Goodness! Look at you! What on earth have you been up to?”
 
Buffy placed the last item from her box on the table and stood aside. “Ta-da!” she announced, and spread her arms wide like a hostess introducing the star prize on one of those corny TV game shows.
 
“What…?” Joyce picked up the diamond tiara and examined it. After a few seconds she looked up, eyes wide, saying softly, “The treasure?” She dropped the tiara and turned to give Buffy a big hug. “You found the treasure! Oh, how wonderful!”
 
Buffy said, “Giles has all the things that gave Tara the magic vibe.” She exchanged a smile with Spike. “We thought you’d be the perfect person to deal with everything else, and get the best price for them.”
 
“For a fair commission, of course,” Spike added, and was subjected to an enveloping hug of his own.
 
Joyce grinned. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! I know just the person to value the jewellery and help me find buyers.”
 
She picked up a small, shiny statuette of an African woman in a scanty leopard skin costume. “But it looks like I’m going to have to look out a couple more experts as well. This looks old,” she said.
 
“It all is,” Buffy said, waving her hand over the table. “It’s been in that crypt since before Sunnydale was even built.”
 
“No, I mean old old. And from the weight of it, I think it could be solid gold!” Joyce turned the figure over and studied the base. “No marks at all.” She peered closely into the statuette’s face. “And I think these eyes are made of… no, they’re not jet. They might even be black diamonds. Real ones, since the piece is far too early for them to be synthetic. Very rare.”
 
“Worth a bit then, d’you reckon?” Spike asked.
 
“It has to be.” The words emerged as an awed sigh.
 
Buffy spotted an item which must have been in Spike’s box since she hadn’t previously noticed it, and said, “Look!” She held up another, smaller statuette, this one made of wood so dark it was almost black. “Isn’t this the same person?”
 
Joyce compared it with the one she held. “I think so.” She put the golden figure down and took the wooden one from Buffy.
 
“But if that one’s old, this one’s ancient,” she said in wonder. “See how smooth and polished the wood has become? I can only make out faint traces of what must once have been some very intricate decorative carving for the hair. That means it’s been handled for centuries, the oils from people’s hands has worked right into the grain of the wood.”
 
She shook her head in bewilderment and carefully replaced the statuette on the table. “It’s not a style I recognise, so I can’t imagine who she might be. All I can say for sure is that she must have been revered for a very long time.”
 
Buffy reached over and took the wooden figure, affectionately stroking the curves of the woman’s body. “Do you think I could keep this one? She feels… special. I don’t know… It’s majorly weird, but as soon as I touched her, I felt as though I knew her.”
 
“’Course you can, love,” Spike said. “Pick out anything you want to keep. While you’re at it, why not pick out a little something for each of the others? You too, Joyce. There must be some trinket that takes your fancy.”
 
“Are you sure?”
 
“As long as there’s still enough left to sell so we can buy a place of our own and live until we can work something else out, sure.”
 
“Perhaps I’d better get everything valued first, then?” Joyce said. “You wouldn’t want to give away something that was worth a fortune.”
 
“Good idea, mom,” Buffy said.
 
 
~*~*~*~
 
 
Spike jumped up onto the plinth of a stone angel memorial, the better to follow Buffy’s scrap with a particularly agile vampire. With his arm draped around the angel’s torso, he swung around the statue to keep her in view as she fought her way across the cemetery.
 
Although it was technically the equivalent of mid-morning in vampire hours, he had been up all day performing an unusual amount of manual labour and now he was becoming cranky.
 
While in the initiative, Buffy had said that tonight she would accept and return his claim. That thought had kept him going all day, so when they’d finally got back to the mansion, he’d been all set to whisk Buffy to bed immediately to initiate the claim.
 
To his disappointment, Buffy had insisted that she had to patrol since she hadn’t the night before, and she’d led him straight back out into the night.
 
This was the fourth cemetery of the evening and Spike’s limited patience was at an end. He called, “Come on, love, stop playing with the bugger and finish him!”
 
“What d’you think… I’m trying to do?” Buffy grimaced in frustration when yet again the nimble vampire evaded her stake.
 
Spike gazed around the moonlit cemetery and satisfied himself that there were no other demons or vampires in the vicinity. He slipped his stake from his duster pocket and the next time that the battling pair came close enough, he took aim and shot the sliver of wood across the space, straight into the vampire’s back.
 
Buffy was in the middle of a high kick when her opponent suddenly disappeared, sending her into an off-balance tumble through a cloud of dust.
 
When she rolled into a seated position and took a few seconds to scrape her hair out of her face and catch her breath, Spike leapt down from his perch and went over to offer her a hand up.
 
“Reckon you’ve done enough for tonight, slayer? The Hellmouth’s down five vamps and a Serparvo demon. Good haul in anyone’s book.”
 
Buffy took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “I guess…”
 
“So… back to the mansion then?”
 
“Now, I wonder why you’re so eager to get home?” Buffy teased, brushing vampire dust off her clothes. She linked her arm through his, turning towards the gate.
 
“As if you don’t bloody know…” he grumbled.
 
“Yeah, I do. Me too. That’s why I begged mom to look after Annie for an extra night. But I promised to be back in the morning!” she said, releasing his arm and breaking into a run.
 
Laughing, Spike gave chase and in no time, they were bursting into the mansion.
 
To Spike’s confusion, Buffy didn’t continue up the stairs but headed straight for the kitchen. She calmly took the casserole dish Joyce had given her from the fridge, and put it in the microwave. When she’d set it going, she took off her grubby jacket and hung it over a chair.
 
“You go on and take the first shower,” she said. “I’ll have mine after my dinner.”
 
Spike pouted. He’d been looking forward to sharing his shower with a naked Buffy all covered with slippery suds. “You expect me to shower alone?”
 
Buffy held out a hank of admittedly filthy hair and scowled at it. “Trust me. This is not going to be a fun playtime kinda shower. This is going to be a multiple lather, rinse and repeat kinda shower. All I want to do is get clean!”
 
“I could help with that…” Spike said with a hopeful leer.
 
“Go. Shower!” Buffy pointed upwards, a very determined look on her face. The kind of look which in L.A, Spike had come to learn meant that she wasn’t willing to be seduced into doing things his way.
 
He spun on his heel and sulkily went to comply. “Fine. You win. This time.”