*~*

Angel glanced at the clock and sighed. He had gone through every resource he had, trying to find a way to defeat the En Kindle and he had come up short every single time. One thing remained the same, no matter how many times he cross referenced it, the En Kindle were often used by the Order of Taraka, the same group that had attacked Buffy in Sunnydale. This tidbit of news unsettled him more than any of the accounts of what the En Kindle were capable of. The Tarakan Assassins were many and far reaching. They were human, demons, and anything in between and you never knew who to suspect until it was too late.

It was not definite that the Order of Taraka was responsible, but it was too much of a coincidence for Angel to brush aside. They had all assumed that Spike had orchestrated it back then, set them on the Slayer to keep her distracted enough that she wouldn’t be able to interfere in the ritual to restore Dru’s power. Angel’s sources had assured him that the contract was over, that they would no longer need to be on guard, but what if? And if the Order was involved then Buffy would never be safe until they discovered who had contracted the kill.

With a deep sense of foreboding, he shut the file he had been looking at and stood. He was aware that Buffy had left Spike the previous night, having received a frantic call from Dawn, and he was also aware that the couple had reunited a few hours earlier. It shocked him how relieved he felt that they were together again. It had been hard the first few weeks, seeing them holding hands, having the elevator doors open to them locked in an intimate kiss, hearing her peals of laughter as he chased after her or watching her look up at him with the same look that used to belong to Angel only. Yes, it had been very hard, but he understood with amazing clarity that Buffy’s life had led her to this point, to the man she had chosen.

He didn’t have to love their arrangement, but he did respect it.

Gathering up a couple of files and an impressively thick book, he headed for Buffy’s apartment to discuss strategy with her. Fred stopped him beside the elevator, holding up a pizza box. He grinned and took it. “She eats more pizza than anyone I’ve ever known,” she told him. “Normally, we let the delivery guys take it up, but we’re not letting anyone in unless they have pre-approval.”

“Thanks, Fred.”

“Is it as bad as I think?” She twisted the hem of her shirt, worried. “Because I’ve been researching the Order of Taraka and it feels like we’re in a no win situation.”

“We’ll work it out.” Angel stepped inside the elevator and gave her his best attempt at a reassuring smile, it faded as the doors shut however.

He knocked on their door a couple minutes later and Buffy opened it, wearing a pale yellow pair of silk pajamas. Her face hardened and he hated that he had that effect on her. He held the pizza box out and she took it. “Can I come in?” he asked.

Buffy stepped back and let him enter, carrying the box to the kitchen while he lingered in the living room. “Want a drink?” she called.

“No, thanks. Where’s Spike?”

“He’s in the shower.” She padded back into the room, her feet bare, carrying a slice of pizza and a coke. Making a great show of ignoring him, she flipped the television on and sat down, taking a bite of pizza as she flipped through the channels.

Sitting in the recliner, he flipped through the file and pulled out a piece of paper. “What do you remember about the Order of Taraka?”

Buffy shrugged, watching Brad Pitt riding a horse across the screen in ‘Legends of the Fall’. “Have you ever watched this movie?”

Angel glanced at the screen and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Listen, the Order of Taraka sometimes uses the En Kindle as-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“What?”

Buffy finished her slice of pizza and took a drink before she answered him. “If you want to talk about business then Spike will be out in a second. If you want to talk about this movie then I’m all over it. It’s one of my favorites.”

“You could be in danger.”

“I’m in danger of starving. Are you sure you don’t want a drink or something?” She stood and walked into the kitchen.

Angel sat still, his anger building as he heard her humming in the other room. She returned carrying the box and sat back down, carefully selecting a slice and biting into it. “Best pizza in the world. You should try it. Spike thinks that pineapple on a pizza is sacrilege, but then again, this is the same person who likes to use my crust to soak up blood.”

Spike chose that moment to enter the room and he stared at them, shocked that they seemed to be getting along for the moment. Sitting next to Buffy, he nodded at the files on Angel’s lap. “What you got?”

Angel glanced at Buffy, who seemed to be enthralled with the television. “Did you contract the Order of Taraka to kill Buffy when she was still in high school?”

Spike looked affronted. “Uhm, no.”

“Are you familiar with them?”

“Group of assassins, lock onto a target and won’t stop until they’re done. Usually big, not always demon, but always bad as hell.”

“And they use the En Kindle quite frequently. Buffy was a target right around the time you were trying to kill me to make Dru stronger.” Angel handed him the file and glanced at Buffy. Her attention was still on the television and she was pulling toppings off her pizza, popping them into her mouth like she wasn’t being discussed in the room. “If this is a Tarakan assault then it’s just the beginning. We’ll have to infiltrate the group and see what we can find out.”

While Spike flipped through the paperwork, Angel said, “Buffy, did you notice whether or not the En Kindle was wearing a ring on her finger?”

When she didn’t answer, Spike nudged her. “Does this look familiar?” He pointed to a picture of a ring in the paperwork.

Buffy barely glanced at it and shook her head. Spike frowned, nudging her again. “Could you actually look at it?”

“As the Slayer I can tell you that I’ve seen the ring once in Sunnydale on the finger of a biker type who tried to kill me while I was ice skating. As a witness to the explosion, I can tell you that it happened too fast for me to see and I didn’t really care how the thing accessorized.” The last thing she wanted was to get into another fight with Spike, so she stood, gathering her pizza and her soda. “If I’m being targeted then you have both established that I’m too stupid to take of myself so I won’t bring anything to this discussion.”

Spike sat perfectly still as she left the room, the only sign of his annoyance was the sharp edge of his jaw bone, which protruded as he ground his teeth. Angel flipped open the book, trying to find a passage that had interested him earlier. They both looked up when Buffy came back into the room.

She held out her hand, showing a small lock of her hair. “Take it, Angel. And don’t be dumb. Why would you have to infiltrate the Order, which could take weeks, to find out if they have a hit on me, and risk people’s lives, when all you have to do is put a lock of my hair in Holy Water, drop in a bit of wolfsbane and see if the hair turns black. God, everyone knows that. Freakin’ idiot.”

Angel took the lock of her hair, which she had tied in a knot to keep it together. “I - I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s a good thing you were only pretending not to listen, love,” Spike said.

Buffy saw the two vampires exchanging knowing grins and it infuriated her past the point of reason. “It doesn’t change anything. I’m still not helping you.”

“Of course not.” Angel made a show of carefully pocketing her hair. “This was definitely no help.”

“You know what I mean!” Buffy snapped. “That’s the end of it. Either way, if I’m marked or not, I don’t want to know. You can handle it however you want. Without me.”

Angel stood, leaving the book on the table. “You guys can read through the pages I turned down and see what you think. I’ll just go have this very unhelpful tip you gave me processed. I’ll let you know what the results are.”

“I don’t want the results.” Buffy went out onto the balcony, and stared out over the city. The sun was setting and she stayed put, watching as it disappeared into the horizon. She closed her eyes, remembering something her mother used to say about hearing the sun sizzle as it was drowned in the ocean each day. She smiled, leaning against the railing as the wind picked up, lifting the edges of her hair.

Something whooshed in front of her and her eyes flew open. It wasn’t the wind blowing her hair and it wasn’t the sun hissing as the light was burned out. Hovering in mid air, a few feet from her, was an En Kindle. Bony little wings jutted from its head and they flapped furiously to keep her afloat. She drew her legs up, reminding Buffy of the position that the one in the airport had achieved on the top ledge of the bathroom stalls. Thinking fast, she dove for cover in the apartment just as the glass exploded around her, piercing her flesh and blowing her backward.

“Buffy!” Spike and Angel both raced for her.

She rose up on her own, ignoring the pain in her feet as glass crunched beneath them. Her pretty yellow pajamas were now pink, covered in En Kindle juice. Staring down at herself, she felt her blood begin to boil and stalked back toward the door. “That is *it*.”

Spike snatched her off her feet, pulling her away from the glass and the balcony as another En Kindle darted up, waving, looking sweet and innocent while it hovered just outside the perimeter. “They can’t come in. See?”

“I could pull the fucking thing in if you’d let me go. I could make it talk in two seconds.”

“It could make you explode in less time than that,” Angel told her, staring out at the fairy, taking note of its hands which were devoid of any jewelry. “I’ll have someone repair the doors right away. And shampoo the floor.”

“I thought you said she was safe here,” Spike accused. “You said these walls were protected.”

“The balcony is outside the walls,” Angel shot back.

“Could you put me down?” Buffy asked.

Spike started to set her down on the floor, away from the glass, but she hissed and leaped back into his arms. “Oww.”

Angel glanced down. Small drops of blood were dripping from the bottom of her feet. Kneeling down, he lifted one, staring at the lesions and the glass that was embedded there. “Damn it, Buffy. You’re full of glass.”

“Better than what you’re full of,” she replied sweetly.

Spike carried her to the kitchen, depositing her on the countertop and directed her to put her feet in the sink. He ran water over them, rinsing away the blood and loose glass and told her to be quiet when she protested, telling him it hurt. Angel joined them a few seconds later, carrying the first aid kit, which he opened and dug through, finally locating a pair of tweezers. Buffy reached for them, but he held them out to Spike.

“I can do it myself,” Buffy snapped, sitting up and attempting to push the blond off her.

The look on his face was enough to silence her protests and she bit her lip, letting him work at least ten pieces of glass from her feet. Once he was satisfied she was going to live, he rinsed her again and turned to Angel. “Give me the bandages.”

“No!” She swung her legs around, sending water flying into the floor. “I need to take yet another bath before you put any bandaids on me.”

Angel, realizing that Spike would have to carry her to the shower and undress her, cleared his throat. “Someone will be here in an hour to get everything repaired. Call me if you need anything.”

Spike agreed that he would and waited until he heard the front door shut, then he kissed Buffy, long and hard, wrapping his arms around her. She was a little shocked, but gave in after a second, hugging him closer and returning the kiss. When he pulled back, she smiled at him. “I like it when you yell at me this way.”

“I’m not yelling.” Lifting her, he took her to the smaller, hall bathroom and sat her on the edge of the tub while he turned on the tap.

The steam rose quickly, curling the ends of Buffy’s hair. She lifted her arms and let him peel her shirt away, then stood on her tiptoes, careful not to let the very bottom of her feet bear her weight, as he slid her pants and panties over her hips. He sat her in the bathtub and pulled the shower massage from its hanger, directing the flow over her head.

She grimaced a second later when she realized that the water going down the drain was bright pink. “Ew.”

Spike nodded. “Doesn’t smell great either. Nasty little things, really.”

“Why can’t it just be vampires. Oh! Or trolls! I’m good with trolls!” She shampooed her hair and waited for Spike to rinse it, then she shampooed it again and set to work on erasing the remnants from her skin.

After finally convincing her that she was clean, he lifted her again, and set her on the toilet, handing her a towel for her hair. After retrieving the bandages from the kitchen, he dried her limbs and and kneeled back in front of her, checking her feet again. “They look almost healed.”

“Just one of the many perks of being a Slayer. They feel fine.”

“I’m gonna wrap them anyway. Just to be safe.”

Buffy let him. She sat, completely naked, while he used two rolls of gauze on her feet and finally stood and reached for her. “I can walk,” she told him. “I think it’s okay.”

He ignored her and took her to the bedroom, where he eased her back on the bed, then covered her body with his own. Saying nothing, he kissed her, kissed her ear, her neck, her forehead. She responded by running her fingers through the back of his hair and holding him closer still. She whispered, “We have a while before they’ll come to fix the door.”

“I was noticing that actually,” he replied, slipping the palm of his hand along the curve of her waist. “And even if they knock, I’m not stopping.”

Buffy gasped as his fingers slipped between her thighs and began to massage, drawing her hips upward. Her breath caught in her chest as one digit, then two, pressed inside her and his thumb began a circular pattern on her engorged clit. She mumbled incoherently and closed her eyes. He leaned down, kissing her again, loving her with his tongue. Buffy came a second later and promptly burst into tears.

“Hey,” Spike whispered, kissing her again. “What’s this?”

“We almost broke up. Like, completely and no turning back broken up. So broken up that-”

“No, we didn’t. We didn’t even come close. Did you think I’d actually let you stay gone?”

“One night! I was only gone one night and it felt like a century. It felt-”

Spike moved his hand against her again. “What does it feel like now?”

She moaned a little and bit her bottom lip. “Like coming home,” she finally said.

He soothed her for a few more minutes, promising her that it would be fine, then he let her peel his shirt off as he did away with his pants. When she wrapped her legs around him, he eased forward, slipping into her. He whispered her name, cradled her head in his arms as he pulled back and moved forward again, without urgency. He needed to feel her, to be inside her forever.

Buffy stared up at him, her eyes locking with his as he shifted his hips in a slow, easy pace. She could just make out his features in the glow from the clock, but his eyes were shining, and she was lost in them. He filled her body as well as he filled her heart and she dug her heels against his backside, holding him against her, deep inside her, then she flipped him, easily and took control. On her knees, she sat astride him and rocked, just as slowly as he had.

Spike let her have her fun for all of two minutes, then sat up, pulling her off her knees and guiding her legs around him so that he could angle deeper. Face to face, they sat on the bed, her in his lap, him as far inside her as possible. “You know,” he said. “Ancient Eqyptians called this position a promise and only engaged in it when they were sure of their committment.”

“It’s a good thing we’re sure.” She kissed him, then leaned back, bracing her hands on the bed as she rocked, harder, against him, pulling him so deep it was almost painful. “Oh, god.”

Spike reached between them, rubbing her clit and felt her muscles tighten around him, clenching as she came again. He gripped her hips, slamming against her in quick successions and exploded, leaning his head against her heaving breasts. “I love you,” he told her.

“I love you. So much, Spike. So much.” Buffy wrapped her arms around him and held him close, kissing the side of his face.

A knock on the door brought both of them down from their high and Spike groaned. “Bloody hell.”

“Better get it.” Buffy slipped from his lap and the towel on her head fell all the way off, causing her cold hair to slap against her back and she yelped.

Chuckling, Spike retrieved his pants and tossed her the comb from the bureau. When she emerged a while later, taking tender steps on her sneaker clad feet, she was wearing a pair of tight workout shorts and a tank top. She saw Spike eyeing the amount of thigh she was showing rather appreciatively and winked at him. The workmen had made quick repairs and already, a new set of glass doors were being slipped into place.

Spike put his arms around her and said, “Are you going somewhere?”

“To the gym. I have nervous energy or something. I need to burn it off.”

“I could go a few more rounds, love.”

She grinned and kissed him. “Hold that thought. I’ll be back in a little while.”

He watched her go, admiring the way her ass swung back and forth and loving that she knew he was watching.