[A/N: I’m working on getting this done and since this is all the muse wants to deal with, this is what’s getting written. . . . Title is from one of the quotes, which are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Previously: Giles, Wesley and Faith have started to work on breaking the spell with the help Jonathan and Anya; Jenner’s on the move; Kirsten’s gone back to where she belongs; Dawn’s in the hospital with Buffy and Spike and Lawson’s made contact. This picks up a short time after the last installment.

Book Two. Chapter 49. Cutting the heart asunder

Love is dead; let lovers’ eyes,
Locked in endless dreams,
The extremes of all extremes,
Ope no more, for now Love dies.
John Ford, The Broken Heart (IV, iii)

When children's dreams are shattered, the whole world weeps
7th Heaven

The beauty of the world has two edges,
one of laughter,
one of anguish,
cutting the heart asunder.
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

How strange when an illusion dies,
it's as though you've lost a child.
Judy Garland

We cast away priceless time in
dreams, born of imagination,
fed upon illusion, and
put to death by reality.
Judy Garland





Faith walked to the far right of the three men, her eyes constantly scanning around, looking for anything that seemed out of place. So far, though, things had been strangely quiet. “Okay, so, been out of the loop for a while, not patrolling and shit, but uh, this is so not normal.”

Wesley hefted his blade, getting a feel for the balance, then answered Faith’s non-question. “It is rather quiet. But I can’t honestly say whether or not this is normal lately. We won’t know for certain until this spell is broken.”

“So I should expect a whole shitload of vamps once we’re done?” Faith half turned away from them, her eyes focusing on something moving around in the shadows. “Watcher-man, I think you could set up here. . . . got something.”

She stalked forward, her eyes peering intently into the gloom, every muscle on alert. Wesley came up behind her and Faith tensed up even more. “Gimme some room. Just stay back.”

Jonathan was emptying the bag Giles had handed to him, setting up the supplies on the ground, while Giles drew a quick protective circle around the pair of them. Calling the quarters in an extra measure, Giles began the steps to stabilize the demon. Faith moved stealthily forward, poised for action, Wesley a few feet behind her.

The only noise was the sound of Giles’ voice intoning the spell Wesley had formulated and the soft hiss of Jonathan’s breathing. An itching tingle started running up the center of Faith’s spine and the air in front of her began to shimmer, like the heat waves bouncing off a scorching sidewalk. It flickered and wavered, the bricks of the walls in front of them altering in appearance and the ugliest looking demon Faith had seen in a long while materialized almost out of thin air.

Slayer and demon stared at each other for long seconds, both of them caught by surprise. Faith was the first to move, pushing Wesley away, giving herself even more room to work. “Hello there ugly. Time to die.”

Swinging her short sword in a looping arc, Faith balanced her weight, falling easily and naturally into a fighting stance. Muscles long unused to slaying woke in the dark night, singing with the prospect of violence, and the dark haired Slayer grinned in anticipation.

The demon surged forward, a heavy fist arcing wide of Faith’s head as she leaned back out of reach. Faith pivoted, bringing up her left fist to punch the demon’s head. Drool and cool green fluid flowed from its gaping orifice, something Faith registered as a mouth, then it turned, growling and shuffling deep in its throat. Bringing up the sword, Faith cut a long thin line across its back, more of the green fluid oozing out of its torso. The thing was small, about the same size as Faith, with a greyish-green skin and fur. It had no discernable eyes, at least none she could see, but the thing could definitely sense where she was. Caught off-guard for a moment, Faith backpedaled away when the creature came at her, fists swinging, then brought up her right hand. Swinging wildly yet controlled, Faith cut through the arm-like appendage aiming for her head, then moved in for the kill. The creature faltered, and Faith’s attention was drawn away when Wesley ground out, “Vampires.”

Giles broke the circle, stepping outside the protective ring, his crossbow at the ready, aimed at one of the vampires who were standing on the roofs of the buildings nearby. Faith was still battling the creature, the others warily watching their opponents, when the creature growled low, grabbing for the sword. Once more Faith pivoted, kicking up with one foot, turning around in a complete circle. Using her momentum, Faith threw her upper body into the swing, bringing the short sword up in an arc. The blade bit deep into the creature’s neck, oozing green goo now spurting in gushes. The stuff splashed against her chest and Faith grimaced. Bracing her foot against the dying creature’s chest, she pulled the sword out, then swung the blade, loping off the head.

“Ah, this is freaking disgusting.” Ignoring the corpse on the ground, Faith followed her companions’ gazes upward when none of them commented. The looming figures were dark against the early night sky, most of them huge and imposing. Faith stepped back, motioning the others to close ranks behind her. Just as Wesley started moving, one of the figures dropped down, landing lightly on his feet, facing her.

He was huge. Standing at least six foot four – if not more, Faith had to crane her head to look at him. Damn he’s a big boy.

For the first time in a long while, Faith understood why. . . . His eyes swept over her, lingering on her hips and breasts, but it was when their eyes met for the first time Faith felt her breath begin to hitch.

The vampire stepped out of the shadows and Faith got a good look at his face. It was all planes and angles – and her pulse sped up.

Jenner was surprised. He’d never expected her to fight alone without Spike. She was gorgeous, but then that was to be expected. Most slayers were attractive, some unusually so. This one was no exception.

They’d still not spoken, neither one of them willing to break the silence, nor the spell forming between them.

Finally, after long moments, Jenner opened his mouth.

His voice was goose-bump inducing deep, just a bare hint of his native Welsh accent leaking through, though Faith couldn’t place it. Just like her older counterpart, Faith proved less than immune.

“Slayer.”

With a hint of her own accent and a bit of her own sass showing, Faith returned his one word greeting. “Vampire.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anya was in the middle of a very lucrative sale when she completely lost her train of thought and very nearly her balance. She swayed a bit on the step stool, closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the shelves. One of the apothecary jars containing aconite teetered precariously and Anya slapped her hand against the glass, shoving it forcefully back onto the shelf.

Inhaling deeply, she somehow managed to get her balance back, corral her suddenly raging temper, grasp the jar of Atlantean nettles and step down, all before her customer realized something had happened. Reaching for the gloves and tongs she kept underneath the counter for doling out the deadly herbs, she quickly ran through the list of sale items, reciting them by rote, while her mind seethed with fury.

They’d done it – managed to break the spell by destroying the invisible demon – and Anya knew beyond any shadow of a doubt exactly who had performed the spell.

Finally concluding the sale, Anya chirped out, “Thank you for shopping at the Magic Box, suppliers for all your mystical needs on the Hellmouth and largest supplier on the West Coast. Please come again and spend your cash, because after all, spending boosts the economy.”

Once the woman was out of hearing range, her tone changed and her words grew darker. “Damn that girl. I told Giles she was over the edge and that idiotic man did nothing. Someone needs to put a stop to her.”

Reaching for the feather duster, Anya almost stalked angrily through the shop, no outlet for her temper other than cleaning.

“Unthinking, inconsiderate. . . . . “

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The only warning Oz had came when his wolf caught a faint trace of Tara’s scent on him, when suddenly, like a kick to the gut, the past was all there. A growl escaped from his throat and he missed a note. His fingers faltered, although he was able to recover before the beat changed and messed up the whole band.

His mind was swirling with the influx of memories, most of them centered on the reality of what had been the past couple of months without Willow. Now he understood why he smelled so much like Tara – they’d practically been inseparable, spending weekends and nights hanging out – and not to mention the time he’d spent sleeping in her bed. Even though nothing of a romantic nature had taken place, he still felt the way he’d felt earlier, when he’d been trying to figure out why her scent was all over him.

She was pack. Tara was part of him, whether he understood the reasons why or not, it hardly mattered anymore. The feeling had been growing, slowly, inexorably, but growing all the same. It had taken this spell, the theft of his memories and hers, to clarify the emotions.

Okay dude, so now you know you aren’t losing your mind. . . . what the hell are you gonna do about it? He thought for a moment, his mind blank, then realized he was going to do what he always did after practice.

Go home. To Tara.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Buffy had edged closer to Lawson, protecting the two non-combatants who were still blissfully unaware of the tensions suddenly appearing in the room. Spike was still staring at the other vampire, his thoughts all jumbled. Lawson was quiet, neither moving nor breathing, his eyes carefully on the Slayer.

Long moments passed while Spike tried processing what Lawson’s presence actually meant. “What. . . the. . . thought you were long gone.”

“No sir. Just been under the radar for a long time.” Lawson still hadn’t moved.

“You know this guy?” She returned the favor, not taking her eyes from the vampire against the wall.

“A bit. Haven’t seen him for years.” Spike moved closer, easing behind Buffy, further protecting the children.

With a hitch in her voice, Buffy asked him her current biggest fear. “Is he one of yours?”
“No. ‘E’s one of the great git’s.” There was no doubt in her mind he was telling the truth, she could feel the conviction coming through the claim, not to mention hear it clearly in his voice.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“1941.” He thought for a moment, then corrected himself. “No, it was ‘43. Just after I’d been clipped by the Nazis.”

She was weighing this information against the obviously submissive stance of the vampire in front of her. “Was he a vamp then?”

“Ah, yes an’ no, pet.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Spike rock forward on the balls of his feet, his body poised in case of an outbreak of violence. “Was stuck in a sub on the bottom of the Atlantic. Yanks had gotten Angelus to agree to get the sub movin’. Came down an’ turned this one here, so’s we could rescue the rest o’ them.”

Both Lawson and Spike knew he’d left out a crucial part of the narrative, leaving out Spike’s part in the carnage that had taken place, the aftermath or that Angel really hadn’t had much of an option about turning the young ensign. Lawson’s sense of loyalty kept him silent and Spike’s own sense of preservation kept his mouth shut for once.

“He did it after the soul?” Her confusion was clearly evident and the question obviously answered an unspoken one of Lawson’s because the other vampire shifted his gaze to stare at Spike.

“He had a soul? How did that happen? Did you know about it?” His shoulders slumped and Lawson continued, his voice hoarse and whisper soft, “that explains so much . . . . I didn’t know.” Raising tortured eyes to Spike, Sam asked him, “Did you know?”

“Not then. No.” Spike shook his head. “Didn’t find out until much later.”

Silently watching the interplay between the two vampires, Buffy didn’t miss the tortured look on the stranger’s face and she turned a curious gaze on Spike. Before he responded to her look, Spike focused his piercing stare on the other vampire. “You gonna behave yourself?”

“Yes sir. It’s why I’m here.” He still hadn’t moved from the spot Buffy had pinned him in earlier and he made no move to change that.

Breathing out a deep sigh, Spike nodded his head. Motioning to the vampire in front of them, he said, “Slayer, this is Lawson.“

Their gazes swung back to the other, and Spike said, “Lawson, this is Buffy.”

She almost chirped out ‘nice to meet you’ when she was struck by a wave of dizzying nausea. Buffy reached out a hand, her fingers closing around Spike’s forearm and she swallowed hard. “Kitten?”

The wave of nausea washed through both of them, then Spike leaned forward, catching the wavering form of his mate in his arms. “Oh my god. What the hell was that?”

Knowledge washed over them simultaneously, the veil obscuring their memories disappearing in the backwash of emotions. Spike’s jaw clenched, every muscle tensing as he tried to come to grips with what his returned memories were telling him. Buffy started to wheel away from him, but his hand grasping hers forestalled the movement and his arms wrapped around her, holding her against his chest.

At first she fought him, fought against the comfort he was offering, but when the reality of what had happened finally settled within her, Buffy buried her face into his chest, her hiccuping breaths muffled against him.

Lawson stepped away, giving the unlikely couple of vampire and Slayer privacy, not understanding at all what had just occurred only knowing his presence at this moment was intrusive and unnecessary.

Buffy was mumbling against his torso, her hands clutching at the material of his soft shirt. “What the hell was that? Who would do something like that to us? Who would want to hurt us that much? And Dawnie. . . . . oh my god. None of this would. . . she wouldn’t . . . . oh Spike. What . . . how did this happen?”

“Shhhh, kitten. Gonna figure it out. We’ll get the watchers on this, an’ we’ll get answers right quick.” He held onto her as the tears started to overwhelm her and everything came crashing back; all her lost memories, being dead – and where she’d been – how she’d been ripped unwillingly from heaven and by whom, Willow’s increasing spiral into darkness, Angel’s loss of soul, Connor. . . . everything.

Spike led Buffy over to the chair beside Dawn’s bed, sitting her down in it gently. He was on his knees before her, his big strong hands wiping away the tears, soft voice rumbling quietly between them. Lawson was frozen in place for long moments, focusing on the tones of the master vampire’s voice and ignoring the words, listening to the heartbeats of humans around him.

The Slayer was quiet now, one of her hands resting on Spike’s, the other brushing against his cheek. The vampire leaned forward, pressing a kiss against her forehead, whispered something then got to his feet. Spike’s eyes caught Lawson’s and he focused his considerable attention on the other vampire. Glancing once more down at Buffy, Spike tilted his head, indicating the other and she nodded once. Moving close, Spike grabbed Lawson and pushed him into the corner furthest away from his small family.

“What brings you round these parts, Lawson?” Spike stared the taller man down, his laser blue eyes boring into Lawson’s brown ones. “An’ why did you come lookin’ for me?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


He’d been waiting for a couple of hours for someone to come relieve him and stay with Cordy overnight. Usually it was Wesley, sometimes Giles – but someone usually managed to get there before eight-ish. Xander had no idea how long it had been since he’d gone home to change his clothes, nor how long he’d been sitting with Cordy. The Buffybot was beginning to get on his nerves though, with the constant cheeryness and uber-bright smile.

Xander was sitting beside Cordy’s bed, his eyes on the television screen, ignoring everything around him. He missed the minute fluttering of Cordelia’s eyelids, the involuntary twitch of long silent lips and the restless movements of her fingers.

He was watching NextGen, his mind wholly focused on the drama unfolding in an unreal dimension, missing the real drama being enacted beside him.

So instead of Xander, it was the Buffybot who watched with avid interest, fascinated with tracking the infinitesimal signs of the return of consciousness.

And so it was the Buffybot who saw the tiny, split-second moment when Cordelia opened her eyes.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It was sometime after seven, and the two girls had been out all day, window shopping, reconnecting, just sharing time and falling in love again.

Fleeting touches – a fingertip brushing over a soft hand – a lock of hair brushed back, exposing pink-tinged cheek – the low dip of a blouse, baring a small pert breast, nipple hard and eager.

Their day had been filled with such moments.

And now, as the moon began her climb into the winter’s sky, time it was to end the teasing. By unspoken agreement – for who needs words when two lovers are attuned? – the girls headed for the place they called home.

Each one was achingly aware of the other, passion flaring slowly between them.

They were halfway home – nearer than not – when Tara stopped her lover with a gentle touch. “Will. . . . Willow? I just. . . . “ a soft twisted smile covered her features, almost as if she were too shy to give voice to her emotions. Her whisper was heartbreakingly soft – a breath on the soft breeze – but the words reached her lover in any case.

“I love you, Willow.”

And Tara bent her head down to kiss her.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Oh he is one fine looking stud. Could ride him. . . . . Faith realized the track her mind was heading down and forcefully pushed it away. Thinking like that is no freaking good. And the hell? “Why would I be worried about blondie?”

Jenner had unconsciously moved closer, angling himself to get a better look at the Slayer. Had he actually asked about Spike? Jenner didn’t remember voicing that question out loud, but he must have, because the Slayer answered him. He could understand how Spike would fall for this one. . . She was all fire and brass, built just right for long days in bed. He’d personally never quite understood William’s obsession until this moment. If the rest of his slayers were even half of this one – he very much understood why. Her husky voice broke into his musings and Jenner realized he’d never actually answered her question.

“So buddy, got a name?” Geezuz girl, what the hell are ya doing? Copying B? She shook off the vibrations this vampire was sending – or at least tried too. Aside from Kakistos, this was the oldest vamp she’d ever run across – and Faith wasn’t sure if it was because of his age or his physical attributes her panties were all in a knot.

“Jenner.” Faith shook her head, watching him warily as he moved closer.

“What is it with you vamps? Two names aren’t good enough for ya?”

Both of them ignored the fidgeting Jonathan, who was the only one truly unnerved by the situation. Jenner was fighting back the urge to laugh – the Slayer’s comments striking him as funny.

“Most vampires discard lots of things when they’ve turned – usually one name or the other.” Jenner found himself needlessly explaining this – which deepened his amusement. Faith was about to comment when unearthly deep canine growls filled the air.

Everyone froze – including the vampires on the rooftops. Another growl sounded, echoing off the brick walls around them. All eyes focused on the source – a darker shadow hovering between two buildings off to Faith’s right. A hound taller than Jonathan appeared in the alley leading toward the residential area – eyes glowing red.

The hound bayed once, then half turned back the way he’d come, as if urging them to follow. Faith stepped forward and an incongruous yip of approval emerged from the hound.

She took another step and the hound started walking away, with a glance at both Giles and Wesley, she shrugged and followed.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Spike had Lawson penned closer than Buffy had earlier – hemming him in despite their height difference. Curiosity was clear in Spike’s gaze and Lawson decided in that split second to take the opening he’d been given.

Answering both gaze and verbalized question, Sam started speaking. “When the sire’s call came through the bloodlines, I honestly thought about ignoring it, and I did, the first time.” He shrugged. “The second call is the one. . I . . it had the ring of a command, though I doubt it was directed at me.”

Spike relaxed fractionally, although he didn’t move away. “Felt it myself. Ignored it. Had m’self a better deal.”

Lawson nodded, his eyes drifting toward Buffy’s seated form. “I didn’t. Had no reason really to ignore it. Problem is, I’m not entirely sure I fit in with everyone.”

A wry smile crossed Spike’s features, his head nodding in understanding. With Angelus it was all about what he wanted – his rules – and there was no help if you differed. He sported a few scars over differences of opinion with the great git and the only reason why Lawson wasn’t sporting similar scars was because of his abandonment. Spike’s eyes darkened then a mischievous glint twinkled. “Got a bit of my own problem fittin’ in with the relatives.”

Picking up on the gist of Spike’s comment, Lawson continued, “Yeah, well, once I got here I sort of remembered that. Since I wasn’t exactly fitting in at the mansion,” he hesitated when Spike shook his head and snorted, “I guess. . . I thought maybe you could help.”

Spike stared at him, but it was Buffy’s voice that broke the sudden silence. “How do you expect us to help you?”

He had the grace to look abashed. “I don’t know.” He swung his gaze between the two. “I didn’t know he had a soul. . . . that was. . . . Look, I understand if you don’t want to help me. I’m nothing to you. But I’ve been watching you and I saw. . . . “ he paused, looking steadily at Buffy, “I’m sorry about your sister.”

Buffy stiffened behind Spike and he could feel her temper rising. Spike moved back, casting a sideways glance at his mate. Lawson looked genuinely saddened and it was Spike who acknowledged it. “Thanks.”

Another awkward silence filled the small room, each of the adults lost in their own thoughts.
The silence was broken when Maureen Osbourne blew into the room, mouth running at a rapid fire – “One of you needs to come out. I’m sorry about this, but there’s a huge – and I mean freaking huge dog howling outside the ER entrance.”

“What?”

“A dog?”

“Yeah. A huge dog, one like Oz, I’m thinking.” The mention of her nephew caught the attention of both blondes, and Spike grabbed Lawson then headed for the door.

“Stay put kitten, ‘ll be right back.”

The two vampires were gone before Buffy could object.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Just as she was about to brush her lips against Willow’s, Tara was hit with a wave of dizziness, enough to cause her to waver on her feet. Her eyes closed and she had to swallow, fighting the memories flooding her mind.

She pulled away from the kiss, sudden tears filling her eyes. Willow reached for her, a question in her gaze and Tara flinched visibly, shying away from her former girlfriend.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Willow’s face swam with confusion. “Tara what’s wrong?”

“How could you? “ Willow reached for her again and this time Tara took a huge step back, out of Willow’s reach. “Don’t touch me.”

“Tara?” Willow stepped closer, hand outstretched to keep Tara in place.

“I told you no.”

Once more Willow moved closer, only this time an unearthly low growl sounded in the air at her movement.

Tara raised tear-stained eyes at the sound, focusing on the sight behind Willow.

Three hounds stood behind Willow, eyes trained on the thin redhead, jaws gaping.







So? Am I evil for leaving it like that?