A/N: Ok, I know I promised Monday, but its a longer chapter and only a day late... And I'm already partially done the next chapter, so my next update will be either tommorrow or Thursday.

Also, thank you to the following people for continuing to read and review despite my sporadic postings: SpikesKat, Marzbar, Confused Muse, Priscilla, Jenny, Sirc, Romero, Just_Sue, Zoe Grace, Trish, Pin, Chanel 5, RJ, Franchesca, Tam, Izzy, Slinkypsychokit, and Spike_spetslayer. Been meaning to thank you all for awhile, and there's no time like the present. :)

Enjoy!

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Buffy woke with cottonmouth and a roaring headache. She vaguely remembered the alley and Spike’s little lesson, which accounted for the misery she was in.

“Son of a bitch,” she groaned as she managed to get to her feet. A wave of nausea hit her and she dropped to her knees, swallowing deep mouthfuls of air to keep from puking.

Spike found her like that some minutes later, blond hair contrasting sharply to the black carpet of his bedroom floor. He fought back a grin and set the juice he’d brought her onto the nightstand.

“Here, love,” he said, slipping an arm under her legs and using the other to support her back.

“Back to bed, then. Shouldn’t be up so soon.” He laid her gently back down on the bed and pulled the covers up to her waist.

“Wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for you,” she muttered as he reached for the cup.

“Now pet. Let’s not go there again.”

She glared at him as he set the cup to her mouth and tilted it so the orange juice hit her lips. She took greedy sips of the cold juice, though, ignoring the impossible blue of his eyes as he watched her drink.

“Your Watcher’s taking a nap on the couch. I imagine he’ll be up from his bout with jet lag just ‘bout the same time you’re up from this.”

She continued her glare as she swallowed the last of the juice.

“I feel like shit.”

“Rightly so,” he agreed, sliding the knuckles of his free hand softly down her cheek. Her breath caught, stayed frozen even as he came close and dropped a feather kiss to her damp lips.

“Well,” he said, pulling back reluctantly. “Few more cups of OJ and you’ll be strong enough to heal yourself.”

She could sense that he was right, felt the sugar coursing through her and renewing strength. He hadn’t taken all that much, she realized.

She just hadn’t had much appetite in days past.

With just the juice, Buffy’s nausea passed and she looked at Spike with new eyes.

His gaze softened as he took her in, mussed hair and pale flesh in his rumpled bed. Their scents mingled on the sheets, filling the air and inflaming the senses. He felt a foreign emotion go through him, and vaguely recognized it as contentment.

“Try to get some rest, eh pet? Should be right as new in a few hours.”

Buffy stubbornly tried to resist, but felt her eyes sliding downwards of their own accord.

True to Spike’s prediction, she awoke several hours later feeling almost normal. No headache, no nausea, only the sweet scent of Spike from the pillow she was laying on.

Noticing her clothes and weapons on a nearby dresser, she gingerly hung her legs over the side of the bed and tried her feet.

“So far so good,” she murmured when the room stayed upright and free of spinning.

The door to the room opened quietly, and Buffy turned as quickly as she dared to see Spike leaning on the doorframe, arms folded across his chest.

“I see you’re back to normal. That’s good. Watcher man’s now in good ‘nough shape to have a few words with you.”

Buffy quickly felt her anger of earlier in the day return with a vengeance. She pulled her pants up in a quick motion and jerked on her shoulder holsters before turning on Spike.

“You brought him here! That man, and wha-“

Spike came forward in a quick motion and clapped his hands in front of her face, abruptly cutting her off.

“I did what you wanted, pet! You wanted to know what you are, what you can do. He’s the man that can show you. Whatever problems you have with your past and Rupert, that your bag to figure out.”

“My bag?” She was caught between rage and tears, hands clenched tight at her sides.

“Your bag, pet. I’ll be there, but it’s your walk to take.”

Buffy closed her eyes, tried to swallow her rage. He was right, she knew he was right. But the fear…

It bothered her that in fear she’d struck out like prey. It bothered her that because of that her monster vampire of a lover was now trying to teach her how to survive in her world.

And it bothered her most of all that she wanted to just give in and let that same monster take care of her.

Buffy opened her eyes and he was watching her, those clear blue eyes that cut right through all her show tactics and powers to just her. And didn’t fault her for anything.

It was an epiphany, that the monster tamed itself for her enough to let what humanity was left connect with her.

Not that she was very human herself these days.

“Okay,” she said cautiously.

“I’ll talk to him.”

*

Buffy cracked the door to the bedroom slowly, peeking out into the living room with her left eye.

Behind her, Spike covered his amusement with a slight cough.

She whipped around and glared at him, her hand still holding the door open fractionally. He wagged his eyebrows at her and glanced deliberately past her.

“Alright,” she muttered. “I’ll go.” She finished opening the door, and, squaring her shoulders, marched out into the living room.

Giles turned around and saw Buffy standing with Spike at her back, hands pressed hard against her thighs. Her guns stood out from between her arms in sharp contrast to her slender form.

Spike lit a cigarette and watched as the two met eyes; Buffy quickly glanced away. He saw Giles’ patient smile and how he studied her with hopeful eyes, memories escaping as he ran his sight over her.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said eventually, eyes still dropped as she spoke the soft words.

“Quite alright. To be perfectly honest I’d expected something a lot worse than a freezing spell. Maybe a nice eviscerating or the like.”

Buffy raised her eyes and was taken in by the warmth on Giles’ face.

“You’re very much your Mother’s daughter.”

And for the first time in her life Buffy heard not mocking of her Mother’s human weaknesses, but love for the woman she was. It was there, that love, in his tone and smiling blue-green eyes, and she saw that it was transferred to her.

Her anger slid away.

“Thank you,” she said softly, hoping he would understand.

“You’re quite welcome.”

There was silence, giving both of them time to recover their composure.

“So,” Giles said finally. “Spike tells me you’ve a bit of a magick problem. Not that I would have noticed.” His eyes twinkled with mirth.

Buffy glanced at Spike, than back to Giles before responding.

“Yeah, it started a few months ago. Accelerated healing, faster reaction, the hunting at night. And then we had the big gala, and other stuff started happening.”

She was calmer as she finally put into words the secrets of the past months, realizing how isolated she had been in her daily revelations.

Giles searched the pockets of his coat, and finally came upon the object of his search.

He reached his hand out and uncurled his fingers, revealing a pale pink stone in the palm of his hand.

“What is it?” Buffy asked suspiciously.

“It’s called an Infinity Stone. It measures levels of magickal energy and potential. I thought the best way for us to begin would be to test your abilities. Being as I’ve already seen you fight-

“You were spying on me?” she interrupted, feeling irritation for having not noticed more than anything else.

Giles looked slightly embarrassed.

“I was simply trying to figure out if you were approachable or not.”

Buffy nodded, the warrior in her accepting his explanation for its strategic merit.

“May I?” he asked, holding the stone out.

Buffy glanced at Spike again, unsure.

“I’ll rip his head off if he hurts you, pet,” Spike offered, and Giles raised an eyebrow at him.

“Quite right, head ripping and the like.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Just hold out your palm, and I’ll put this on you. There might be a slight stinging sensation…”

Buffy narrowed her eyes as Giles set the stone in the flat of her hand. True to his word, it stung slightly, but began fading almost instantly as the stone began to spin.

Buffy stared in wonder as the rock flared to life, shining vividly as colors rushed through the spectrum like a high-speed kaleidoscope.

Finally, the rock stilled, the colors fading until it became so clear, Buffy could see through it to the lines of her palm.

“Wow,” she breathed, her eyes seeing spots from the show she’d just witnessed. Giles face was carefully blank, Spike noticed.

Giles gingerly lifted the stone from her palm, and it slowly regained color until it was pink again.

“So what’s it mean?” Buffy asked curiously as Giles pocketed the Infinity Stone.

“It’s an uncertain outcome,” Giles said. “I believe your Slayer powers interfered with an accurate reading.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to curb her disappointment.

“I’ll have to figure out another way of sorting through this, that’s all. And we will of course be starting your formal Slayer training soon. Spike has been generous enough to offer me his training room for our sessions.”

“Then we’ll meet again tomorrow?”

He gave her a reassuring smile.

“We’ll meet everyday of the week, if you wish it.”

“I just want to learn.” To hide what I am, she added as a mental afterthought. Then she turned to Spike, thoughts of Tesh smelling Spike on her at the front of her brain.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower before we head back to the mansion.”

Spike nodded, touching her arm as he leaned down and gave her a light kiss. The casual gesture left Buffy breathless, and she took a deep breath before heading back into the bedroom.

The closing of his bedroom door cut off the smell of Buffy’s arousal, and Spike offered a silent prayer for the favor. He needed to have words with the Watcher while she was otherwise preoccupied.

“What’s it mean?” he demanded once he was sure she was out of ear shot. “The stone’s color like that?”

Giles let out a long breath.

“It means her power is unquantifiable, at least by any means available to me. The only limitations she has are those she puts on herself.”

Both men were grim as they considered what that meant for Buffy’s future.

“She’s going to need you,” Spike said reluctantly.

“She’ll need us both,” Giles replied, his voice hardening. “Especially with her father. He’ll try to twist this anyway he can. And he’s not one to suffer the more powerful if they don’t submit. He’ll try to break her.”

The sounds of the shower reached Spike’s ears, along with Buffy’s grateful groan as water hit flesh. Her love for her father was being questioned with each passing day, every new discovery she made of the man, but he knew it would be a hard thing for her to break his grip completely.

Spike considered what it would mean to go to war with her father, where all of the decisions they were making would lead. Alone, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She may not even stand a chance with his and the Watcher’s combined help.

But he would not let Buffy fail. She had been precious even before her powers, magickal or Slayer, fighting at the sides of demons with only her human courage as a step up. He had been in love with her every since the time he had seen her stare straight into the face of a Kareen demon and blow its head off. Never had anything been so beautiful as her blond hair blown back with goop, nose wrinkled in disgust even as laughter bubbled up from her throat.

So he steeled himself, and made the decision to take on the devil himself.

“We’ll just have to break him instead then, won’t we, Watcher man?”

*

In a mansion not so far away, high atop the glitter and hidden sins of the City of Lost Angels, a not-so-angelic man stood staring out over the world below. It was a fond habit of his, brooding from any of the numerous balconies the stood out along the front of the Chase mansion.

What was not a habit, however, were the thoughts that filled his mind. Thoughts about a girl young enough to be his descendant several times over.

Angel suddenly wished he shared some of his grandchilde’s worse habits, such as smoking. Sadly, puffing in cancerous smoke even with immortal lungs had never appealed to him.

Ever since the other night, when Cordelia had brought her simmering affections out into the open, his mind had been at war with itself. He had noticed long ago that he was the center of her lingering glances and the cause of her almost-inaudible sighs.

Damn his vampire hearing, anyway.

But she had called him on it, had finally taken the step he had both prayed and hoped she would not. And now he was fixated on the underage daughter of his employer, even when she wasn’t around. He caught himself fanaticizing about the curve of her calves sliding down into slim ankles, of her chestnut hair skimming her tanned shoulders, of her wide smile and laughing eyes. His soul ached in his chest.

Spike, he thought, is never afraid to take what he wants.

Part of him hated Spike for that.

He thought of Buffy, the newest Slayer, with her wealth of untested power and the raw edges that shone from her eyes. She would be a hard woman to love, especially considering her father. But Spike seemed to be working through the issues with astonishing ease.

Maybe, he thought. Maybe I can do the same.

So he went to find the object of his brooding.