“You have no concept of time,” Spike announced as she opened the door. He was sitting on the sofa, twirling a long stemmed rose.

Buffy gasped when she surveyed the room. The floor was littered with rose petals and she could see that they trailed down the hallway toward the bedroom. Soft music was playing from the stereo and there was a bottle of grape juice chilling on the coffee table with two glasses on either side. It was a reminder of the struggle she’d had with alcohol when they first got back together and a testimony to how much Spike had helped her overcome that demon. “You know,” she replied, shutting the door and leaning against it. “I was already seduced. You just had to show up.”

“Come ‘ere.” He patted the seat next to him and watched as she slipped her shoes off. He shifted uncomfortably as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her pants and slowly pushed them down, her hips moving in time with the music as her lacy red thong was exposed. With a low growl, he started to stand and go to her, but she shook her head. He sat back down, narrowing his eyes as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and turned away from him, letting it skim over her back. When it was barely dangling from her fingertips, she turned and glanced at him over her shoulder, and the heat that radiated from her gaze drew him to his feet. “I’m not waiting, pet.”

Buffy unhooked her bra and let it slide over her shoulders and down her arms, her back still to him. Despite his declaration, he stood perfectly still, unable to tear his eyes away from the picture she presented. Reaching up, she pulled her ponytail free and shook her head, letting her hair fall around her shoulders. She gave him another glance over her bare shoulder and arched an eyebrow, then she hooked her thumbs in her panties and eased them down, bending at the waist as she did and giving him a full view of her backside.

“Bloody hell,” Spike snapped, dropping the rose and stalking across the room.

Buffy kicked her panties at him, grinning. They hit him in the face and she seized the opportunity to dart past him. He caught her in the hallway and pinned her against the wall. “I said I’m not waiting.”

She gasped as he dropped to his knees, pulling one of her legs over his shoulder. She arched against him as his tongue moved against her swollen flesh, gripping handfuls of his hair. He growled her name against her and she threw her head back, undulating against him as he slid one finger, then two, into her. It had stopped amazing her that he could work her body so well. She closed her eyes and melted under his touch, knowing that her release was going to be fast.

Spike caught her as the orgasm rocked through her, causing her legs to buckle. He laid her on her back and watched her, watched the healthy color flood her face, watched her heaving breasts. The rose petals were spread around her, tangling in her hair and sticking to her arms. Reaching up, he laid his hand against her chest, feeling her heart pound. She was so alive, so beautiful, and she was his.

Buffy heard his zipper being snatched down opened her arms to him. He settled between her legs, kissing her softly as he gently pushed into her. “No. Do it harder.”

Spike complied, moving back and then slamming against her. He felt her lifting her hips and rose to his knees, pushing her legs upward as he continued to pound against her. The pressure built too quickly and before he knew it, the sounds of her second orgasm sent him crashing over the edge.

Spent, he flopped down beside her. “And to think, we still have hours to go.”

“I’m not complaining.” Buffy stifled a yawn and curled against him.

A few moments later, her breathing was even and slow and a snore passed through her parted lips. He kissed her forehead, lifted her and carried her to the bed where he tucked her beneath the cover. He sat next to her, watching as she burrowed into a more comfortable position, still unable to believe that this was his life. “I’m not complaining either,” he whispered and watched her sleep for a while.

~*~*

Buffy walked into the break room, bleary eyed and disheveled, in search of coffee. She poured herself a cup and sipped it, willing her body to wake up and furious at herself for sleeping almost fourteen hours when she had wanted to utilize every second of her night off with Spike. She didn’t even remember him taking her to the bed, but that was where the alarm had yanked her from sleep.

Her brain was fuzzy as she took another sip and glanced at the newspaper that was lying on one of the tables. The headline caught her eye and she opened it all the way, reading through the front page.

Body of Missing Girl Found Mutilated In Woods

After almost three days of intensive searching for the little girl who wandered away from her campsite, the body of Ashlee Sanchez was found in the woods near the famed Hollywood sign. Her death appeared to have been caused by wild animals. No word yet on the animal in question, but a rash of coyote sightings has-

“Buffy,” Angel said quietly, watching her from the doorway.

Buffy was so startled that she jumped, sloshing coffee on her black slacks. “Damn it.”

“I’m sorry.” He grabbed a handful of napkins and held them out to her, watching as she took them and wiped at her pants. “I need you to come with me.”

Something in his tone forced her to stop what she was doing and give him her full attention. She had left Spike in bed, surely he was okay. Where was Dawn? “Why?” she asked, swallowing hard.

“Come on,” he replied, gently taking her elbow and leading her back towards the main lobby.

Buffy fell in step beside him as they walked through a small crowd of people and then stood next to him at the elevator. As he pressed his palm against her back to usher her inside, she stiffened. “What happened?”

Angel glanced at the cloister of people and shook his head. “Not here.”

When they were alone inside the small compartment, Buffy crossed her arm. “You know, I like this cryptic act about as much as I did in Sunnyda-”

“I’m not being cryptic.” Angel interrupted. “I just-”

“You just what?”

“You don’t want me to tell you this in front of anyone, Buffy. I’ll tell you when we get upstairs.”

“Fine.” Buffy pondered the reasoning behind his motives as they elevator stopped a few times to let people in or out. Maybe he was firing her. Maybe he was going to declare that he could not work with her anymore. Maybe he was pissed that she had finally taken a night off.

When she stepped out into the chaos that surrounded Angel’s office, she knew it was probably none of those things. Fred rushed past her, red eyed and sniffling. Matilda, the manager of accounting, was blowing her nose loudly into a frayed handkerchief and one of the men who had accompanied Miles on the mission the previous night was standing with his back against the wall and his head down. Buffy drew up short when she saw that the man was holding Miles’ coat, a green pea-coat that she had teased him about relentlessly for weeks.

Angel turned to face her. In that instant, he knew that she knew. He leaned down toward her and said, “It was quick. He didn’t suffer.”

“No.” She took several steps back and shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”

“Buffy, listen to me.” He reached out and gently shook her. “He didn’t make it. Miles is dead.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I went and got him myself.”

“Where is he?”

“Let’s go into my office.”

Buffy let him lead her past Matilda, who reached out and squeezed her arm. She heard the older woman telling her something about Miles loving his job and knowing the risks, but nothing really registered. Sitting on the leather sofa in Angel’s office, she buried her face in her hands and tried to convince herself that she had not actually woken up yet, that it was all a bad dream. She felt a hand on her knee and looked up. Angel was holding out a glass of water which she accepted, but didn’t drink. “Tell me,” she whispered.

Angel pulled a chair up next to her and said, “I got a call from Davies, one of the agents who went with him. He told me that Miles had gone down about ten minutes into the fight. The demon was stronger than they expected, stronger than it should have been and it killed him.”

“How did it kill him?”

“I’m not giving you the details.”

“Tell me!” Buffy shouted.

“You don’t need to know that.”

“You know I’ll find out. Everyone finds out everything at this place.” When she saw that he wasn’t budging, she added, “I’d rather hear it from you.”

Angel considered that for several seconds, then said, “The demon has a sharp blade like bone that juts from the tail.” He paused, trying to choose the right words. Nothing came to him so he was brutally honest. “It cut his head off.”

Nausea washed over her and she had to swallow back the bile that rose in her throat. Closing her eyes, she pictured it clearly in her mind. Miles would have been fighting hard, his dimples nowhere to be seen. He would have probably attacked from the left and jumped in with both feet, not worrying about the size of his opponent. She pulled on an image of him on his wedding day, staring down at his new bride with adoration and pride. That was the image she wanted to keep. “Did you kill it?”

“No.” Angel studied her, noting her shaking hands and the way her eyes focused on nothing. “We tried, but it was just too strong. The only way it could have gained strength so fast is with human-”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “The little girl in paper! They said that she was found in the Hollywood hills. It must have gotten her.”

Angel considered that. “You may be right.”

“No one told me that she was missing.”

“You can’t be everyone at once, Buffy. You can’t save everyone.”

“It’s my job to try.” Standing, she went to the window and stared out at the throng of cars on the street below. “What about Christine? Who told her?”

“I did.”

“Is she okay?”

“No.” Angel was struck by how frail the Slayer appeared, arms wrapped around herself, her head resting against the window. Her size had always thrown him, always made him think he had to take extra care with her because she could shatter at any second. She always surprised him, though. Just when he thought she had reached the limit of her capabilities, she dug a little deeper and pulled from a hidden reserve that had boundless strength. “Are *you* okay?”

“How do you think I am?” she asked in a small voice. “It never stops. I say the word, make a decision, and someone dies. A Slayer, a friend-” She turned and looked at him. “You. Spike.”

Angel went to her, seriously considered hugging her, but settled for resting a hand on her shoulder. “This is not your fault.”

“It is.” She leaned against the window again. “I sent him out there because I was selfish and tired.”

“You’re only human. You couldn’t keep burning both ends the way you were. No one could.”

“I’m not only human. I’m a Slayer. They were the human ones and I sent them to do my job.”

“Stop it!” Angel pulled her around to face him and shook her, hard this time. “You’re not a Slayer here. You’re part of a team and they weren’t doing *your* job, they were doing *our* job. They knew the risks, just like you know them, Buffy. One goes down and another comes along and steps in. It’s the exact same process.”

“It is not the exact same.”

“They chose to do this! You didn’t have that option. That’s the biggest difference.”

Without thinking at all, she pushed his hands off her shoulder and leaned against his chest. “What am I supposed to do? Angel, what happens now?”

Angel hugged her, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “We’re gonna close for three days out of respect for Miles. I’ll call a meeting with everyone in a little while and let them know what Christine decides as far as the funeral and -”

The door opened and Spike stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Buffy in the other man’s arms. He cleared his throat, trying to appear unfazed by their embrace, although he was anything but. “I just heard. I’m sorry, love.”

Buffy stepped away from Angel and rushed to Spike. He kissed her softly on the cheek and held her against him, his hand resting on the back of her head. Speaking low, he said, “That’s how he would have wanted to go out. He loved the fight, that one. You were always telling me that he loved the fight more than you did.”

“I want to go home,” Buffy whispered.

Spike glanced at Angel over the top of her head, an eyebrow raised. “Are we done here?” When Angel silently nodded, Spike led her from the room, shielding her as much as possible when the people in the main area began to ask her questions. Once inside the elevator, Spike brushed her hair back and studied her face. She was pale and sweat was appearing at her hairline. “Hey, look at me.” He tilted her chin and gave her a small smile when her watery eyes settled on his. “It’ll be okay, baby.”

Buffy said nothing, simply nodded absently. Her mind was elsewhere.

On a demon in a cave that she would be seeing very, very soon.