A/N: Sorry 'bout the longish wait on this chappie... Just got my computer back. Hope you enjoy. :)

And... ::squeels:: Super thank yous to my Fool for Love and VK Awards nominators! ::Blows kisses::

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Buffy woke with a smile, parts of her body aching in ways that made her what to cry and cream herself at the same time. The first thing she saw was Spike, disheveled hair and sleepy blue eyes locked on her face.

“Morning, love.” His voice was husky, a kind of throatiness that made her skin tingle. He was running his hand gently across her hair, and she felt her heart swell at his touch.

“Mmmmm… Spike.” She leaned up and caught his bottom lip with her teeth, giving it a gentle tug. Spike growled, and sank his tongue deep into her mouth.

Some minutes later, Buffy breathlessly pulled away, thoughts of the real world breaking her bliss.

“What time is it?”

Spike glanced at the clock on his teak bed stand. “Bit after five, pet. Why?”

“I need to get back.”

Buffy reluctantly slid from the bed and went for her clothes. She found her pants and hurriedly pulled them on.

“There’s going to be a hell of a mess tonight. I should get back to the mansion before dusk hits.”

Spike just gave a lazy grin, watching her through the blue slits of his eyes.

“’M loving the view, pet.”

She cast him a look back over her shoulder, and felt heat flood through her. His eyes were glowing, open fully now and raking her body with devilish intent.

“Come ‘ere, love,” he commanded softly in that velvet voice of his. All thoughts of war fled her mind, and her bra slid from her fingers and silently hit the floor.

She came.

*

Buffy glowed on the drive back to the mansion. She tuned in a rock station and rocked her body to the beat, reliving the glory of the night before in full detail. The war faded into the back of her mind.

She parked the car with a light jerk of the e-brake, tossed the keys with a smile to a startled Casey, and dashed inside.

“Spike!”

Buffy stopped dead in the hallway, feeling her face turn crimson. She whispered a quick spell under her breath to cloud Tesh’s judgment, then turned to him with a smile.

“Tesh!

“Oh, su- su- sorry. Thought I smelled Spike. But your father wants to see you.” Tesh shifted uncomfortably, and Buffy lost her glow.

“Tesh,” she said softly, reaching a hand out and touching his arm. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not my father.”

“I knu-knu- know. But you’re dif-dif-different now,” he finally managed, a look of pain passing over his face.

“You’ve got power now.”

“Not so different, Tesh. I’ll never hurt you.”

He dropped his eyes. “I know, that. That’s not bothering me.”

Human pity in the big brown eyes of a demonic face made Buffy’s heart thump madly. Tesh’s next words were a barely audible whisper.

“They’re gonna try and do bad things, girl. The magick is gonna take work.”

There was a sound down the hall, a quiet thud. Tesh jumped nervously, and the moment was lost. He muttered a quiet goodbye, and left Buffy in the hallway alone. She felt slightly panicked, and used a spell to wash herself of all remnants of the night before, down to a change of clothes. Then she wandered down to her father’s office.

The door was open, but Buffy could sense the privacy spell that ensured no information could leak past the threshold. She crossed it gently, sending out a bit of power to test its strength.

Hank was talking to someone she didn’t know, but he stopped talking when she came in and flashed her a huge smile.

“Buffy! There’s my girl! Come in!”

Buffy hesitated. She could feel waves of something dark flowing off of the man in her father’s chair, who was watching her with an unfathomable expression, and it made her skin itch.

“Come on, sweetheart! Don’t be shy. Richard here works for Wolfram and Hart. I was just telling him about your recent magickal blossoming.”

Finally Buffy gave a soft smile and stuck her hand out.

“Pleased to meet you, sir.”

Along the length of her arm, she felt a tingle of heat, a slow permeation that made her flesh sweat. She kept smiling, and tightened the shake as she whispered softly. Her breath came out in visible puffs as she countered the test spell the man was casting.

“Impressive, Ms. Summers. Very impressive.” He dropped her hand.

She shook her head slightly. “All you did was try to raise my temperature. No biggie.”

“The simpler a spell is, the harder it is to detect, you see. You caught my little slip of a casting while I was still sending it out.” He turned to her father.

“There’s no end to what she could do as a detector, Hank,” he said.

No!

“Yes, well, she’s got her work cut out for her right now, what with the war that’s started.” Hank looked over to her.

“Heard about the little skirmish at The Room. I was worried when the boys didn’t come home last night.”

Spike’s words about lying echoed in Buffy’s mind, and she edited her answer to suit.

“I’m sorry. I was tired. Fred got hurt, and I healed her. I pretty much crashed afterwards.”

“No matter then… I want you to go with Richard here on Thursday to do a little job for him, as a favor for me.”

“What kind of a job?”

“Detection, that’s all,” said Richard smoothly. “We wouldn’t ask any more of you at this point. It’s too early for you to be expected to deal with anything too strenuous.

Her gut told her no, but her father’s eyes showed there would be no mercy if she turned her back on Richard’s little task.

“Ok,” she said, turning up the watts of her smile with false warmth, and praying her stomach would hold up.

“What time do I show?”

*

Spike was in the graveyard doing cleanup duty for Hank. The war had started in force, and the attack Buffy had described to him was just one of many that occurred the previous night; there had been dozens of hits on Summers’ interests, and Hank had him out doing the rounds in the wake.

The man he found haunting the graveyard was something far more dangerous than Gustuuks.

He was leaned up against a statue of an angel old enough to be fringed with green moss. He crept up behind him, and could tell instantly from his smell what breed of man he was.

“Well, well, what do we have here? I spy a Watcher birdie.” He shot his hand out as the man turned, knocking aside the cross he was attempting to raise up. His hand clamped down on his throat with fear-fueled fury, and the violence of his motion sent the man’s glasses flying.

The smell of scotch hit Spike in the nose as he lifted him up. He watched with satisfaction as the man’s face began to turn slowly purple. He struggled, kicked out, his lips desperately trying to form words. Spike loosened his grip just enough for him to speak.

“Mo…ther… Joyce!”

Spike instantly dropped his grip on the Watcher’s throat. Giles fell to the ground, coughing violently.

Spike watched the man recover with narrowed eyes.

“What about her mum?”

Giles held up a hand, coughing a few more times into the dirt. Spike waited impatiently for the man to recover his wits.

Finally, the coughing died down, and Giles pushed himself to his feet.

“We were close.”

“Saying you were friendly with her knickers, Watcher? That’s not exactly reason ‘nough to not kill you.”

Giles voice was cold, and Spike found himself impressed by the man’s checked rage.

“I was more than friendly. I loved her, and I lost her to Hank Summers, the foulest fucker on Earth.”

Spike gave a sharp laugh. “I’ll agree with you there, mate.”

“The reason they sent me here is because they want me to take care of her. But the reason I’m here is to save her from Hank.” He pulled his best friend the flask out with a shaking hand and took a quick swig.

“For her mother’s sake.” Spike looked at him hard.

“The only sake I’m concerned with is her’s, Watcher,” he finally said in a soft voice.

Giles returned the look, letting a bit of the Ripper peak through. “And for some reason, I believe you.”

He stuck out his hand.

“Rupert Giles, of the Watcher’s Council.”

Spike awkwardly shook the offered hand.

“William the Bloody, of the line of Aurelius.”

Spike watched the man’s face go cool and appraising and knew he’d made the historical connection.

“I’m not entirely sure I won’t end up as dinner.”

Spike shrugged. “You’re a touch old for my tastes, Watcher.”

“Fine. Suppose we’re on shared purpose then.”

“Right,” said Spike. “We’d best go back to my place an’ talk on that. Too many eyes out in the open.”

Giles squinted as he spoke, realizing his glasses were missing.

“Where…”

But Spike had already started walking, and Giles realized too late that his glasses lay directly in the path of his booted feet.

“Wait!”

There was the sound of shattering glass as Spike’s foot came down on the wire-rimmed specs. He turned and looked back at the squinting, panicked face of the Watcher and had to swallow his mirth.

“Right. Sorry ‘bout that mate. Buy you a new pair.” He walked back and took Giles by the arm.

“Car’s this way, mate.”

“Lovely. I’m being led blind around LA by William the Bloody.”

Spike clapped him on the back.

“There’s worse guides, Watcher.”

*

Chapter 13- Split Loyalties coming soon...