It's Not Enough
By:  Morrigan


A/N:  Blacknblue2 is my hero!  *L*  I'd also like to give a shout out to Greenhair00 for, unbeknownst to her, kickinig my muse in the ass to get a move!  Thanks, girl!  You crack me up!

I also wanna say thanks to those who have reviewed.  It really helps keep me going.  I'm shamefully addicted to feedback.  *Hangs head.*

This chapter has the first real *hints* at the over-all plot and I'm a little nervous about it, so if you guys would be so kind as to leave me a review and let me know what you think, I would be most grateful.  Thanks for reading.  Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer:  All characters belong to Joss Whedon and ME.  Hey, we fanfic writers might not make a penny but we all know who's workin hard to keep our heros and heroines alive, so yay, us!



'It's going to be a long day.'  Buffy thought, as she took another sip of the hot coffee from the flowery mug she held in her hands.


* * * * *


She had spent most of the night with Willow and Giles, in her room, discussing her visions.  Willow tried to be all about the supportive, telling Buffy that she had made the right decision, but Giles seemed to have a different point of view.  In fact, he seemed to be reluctant to give any opinion at all.  His reticence spoke volumes to Buffy.

It was apparent to her that Giles believed she had screwed things up.  That was ok though, because he was right.  She had.  But now, she intended to make things right.

The problem was, or so it seemed, after reading through the book from the chest, that she couldn't just jump back through the portal and reclaim her *gift.*  They were going to need something else.  But what?

So, seeing that it was going to be a research session after all, Willow decided that she would get up early in the morning and head out to the magic shop to dig around in the books, while Giles vowed to research the remaining Watcher's files, along with the book from the Slayers' chest.  Both of them had hopes that they could find some sort of a loophole.

Buffy tried to get some sleep once they had left, but only succeeded in getting a couple of hours in.  Every time she closed her eyes, she would be back in the graveyard, minus the headache, but in Spike's arms, all the same.

"Ugh..."

She tossed.  She turned.  She dozed.  She dreamed.

She was right back there again.  Spike was holding her.  Her eyes were closed, but she knew, just like before, that it had to be him.  She didn't want to open her eyes.  She wanted to remain like this, lost in only the sensations of him.  His touch, his smell, the feeling of safety, cradled in his arms.

She wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her face close to his neck, just above his heart, and thought to herself, 'Thank God.  Not dust.  For the love or hate of him, this vampire is mine.'  Then, oddly,  'His life, his death, is mine.'

Suddenly, as if he had heard her, he answered softly,

"Always, Love."

Buffy frowned then, thinking, 'How weird!  I didn't say anything...'  When she felt something wet slide down past her cheek.  Wet.  Sticky.  And cold.

Her hand came up to her face to feel the substance.  Pulling away, slightly, she looked at her hand, and saw that it was blood!  Sitting more upright, she became aware as the cool night air swept past her face, that it was all over her mouth!  Shaking, she looked up at Spike and gasped.  The left side of his neck was torn and bleeding profusely.  The blood poured out in small rivers to drip down onto the cool grass between them.

Spike blinked and looked down, almost shyly, before bringing his eyes back up to hers.  A gleam of something different was replaced in them, and one side of his mouth curved into a sultry smile as he said, "Ladies first."

Buffy woke with a start, her heart hammering in her chest.  It had seemed so real!  She had jumped up, quickly running into the bathroom to peer at her reflection.

'What does it mean?'  She wondered.  No.  'It can't mean anything...  Can it?'

Buffy turned on the taps and splashed some cool water on her face.  After blotting it with a towel, she looked back to her reflection and told herself, "No.  It's just a dream.  Go back to bed!"  But her self-scolding didn't do anything to help her nerves.

Deciding that sleep was a lost cause, Buffy got dressed for the day, and headed downstairs to the kitchen, to make a pot of coffee.


* * * * *


Which is where she still was, when Dawn came through from the direction of the basement.

She didn't even notice Buffy as she passed the kitchen and staggered up the stairs to her room.  Buffy didn't say a word.  Why should she?  A long time had come and gone since the days when she used to have to track her little sister down and drag her out of Spike's crypt.  Did she think things would be any different now that he was living here?  Or more aptly, did she ever consider it at all, since Dawn had seemed so dead set against Spike being back around since...

Buffy shook her head, closed her eyes and drank down the remaining contents of her cup.

'No, Buffy.  No thinking about that either.  He's different now.  He's not like that, anymore.'

Buffy pushed her chair back and got up to pour herself a refill.

Ok...  So, Dawn and Spike made up.  This is a good thing.  Dawn needed someone to talk to.  She sure as hell didn't seem as if she felt like talking to Buffy.  But then, she thought about what Giles would have done, if he had seen Dawn coming through that door.  Giles, most likely, would have flipped.  He still believed Spike to be triggered, and he was more than a little p.o'd that Buffy allowed him to stay in the house with them.

She turned her attention to the steam rising out of her coffee cup.  It swirled around like pretty ribbons, a few inches above the rim, before it disappeared.  She didn't know how long she had been spacing out, but when she looked up again, Spike was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching her silently.

"Oh, hey."  Buffy greeted him, and sat up a little more in her chair.

"I didn't hear you come up."

Spike nodded his head in understanding.  "Vampire," he reminded her simply.

"Yeah..."  Buffy agreed, absentmindedly.

'But...  I should have felt him,' she thought.

"I must be losing my touch," she said, and shrugged.

"Must be."  Spike's answer came back to her.

'Ok,'  She thought.  'This is just weird!  Spike is never this quiet.  I wonder what's eating hi...  Ew!...'

The vision of Spike, soaked in blood flashed though her mind at that thought, making her instantly queasy.  'I wonder what's *bugging* him.'

Standing, with her cup, Buffy motioned to the table and asked, "You wanna sit down?"  But Spike just shook his head, then nodded to the window.

"Nah, I think I'll just stand here..."

And then it clicked, what was so strange about him. Buffy looked to the window and back, remembering that she had pulled the curtains completely open, when she first came in. The entire kitchen was filled with sunlight and although Spike hadn't stepped any closer than the doorway, the bright beams were shining all the way into the living room. Not just on Spike, but behind him as well!


Buffy's mouth thinned to a hard line as she set down her mug, folded her arms and leaned her back against the counter.

"You're not Spike." She stated coldly, to which The First rewarded her with a big open smile.  He extended one arm out with a grand flourish and bowed.

"At your service, Love. Or, perhaps, you would rather be at mine?"

He smirked and looked her over, suggestively, before breaking out in giggles.

"Oh now, stop it Slayer!  Where's your sense of humor?  Don't be such a tight-ass!  You're liable to pass a diamond, that way!"

Buffy was less than amused.

"What do you want?"  She asked.  "Make it quick, because I don't have time for you."

The First continued to beam at her.  The overly-wide grin looked creepy, worn on Spike's face.

"Oh, you have all the time I need."  He said.  "I was actually thinkin' 'bout singin' me a little song.  It's a beautiful day for singin, don't you think, Love?"

He pointed in the direction of the basement door and, impossibly, smiled even wider as he watched her expression darken.

"You leave Spike alone."  Buffy hissed.

"Oh, you leave Spike alone!"  The First taunted her, with a sneer.  "Oh, I'm positively horrified now!  Whatever shall I do?  There's a tiny little girl in the kitchen who's very mad at the Big Bad!"  "Well, let me tell you something...  Little girl."

He paced into the kitchen, stopping only a couple of feet away.

"You can't stop me.  But I'm having way too much fun watching you try.  By the way..." His face sobered in mock concern.  "Is your sister alright?  I do hope so...  You know, for a protector of innocents, you really are quite trusting.  I would think that you, of all people, would know better than to leave her alone with a vampire...  But then, perhaps you were too busy to notice?  Did she talk to you, on her way back inside?  Come and give you a good-morning hug, perhaps?  I would watch my charges more carefully, if I were you..."

Buffy's eyes grew wide, then, with fear.  'Oh God...'  She thought.  Not Dawn!  She couldn't be...'

"Dawn!"

Buffy walked through the apparition and headed for the stairs, shouting her sister's name, as The First snickered, behind her.

The sinister laughter echoed through the stillness of the house and began to change, sounding more feminine.  Taking one last look back, as she neared the top, Buffy saw what appeared to be an older woman with long blonde hair and familiar blue eyes, dressed in Victorian attire.

Catching Buffy's eye, the woman stopped laughing, to click her tongue and wave her finger in a scolding manner as she asked, in a sing-song voice, "How could you use a poor maid so?"  Before she dissolved into dust.

Buffy turned back to the stairs, calling her sister's name as she ran the rest of the way to Dawn's room.