Author’s Note: Thanks again to Kar and my readers. This one is not coming along as easily as Borrowed Time, but I have a draft of the next chapter going. Feedback feeds the muse, so please keep it coming.

In our third installment Spike faces some consequences of being all soul-having, Willow faces some consequences for cleaving a guy in twain, and Joyce confers with Giles.

Chapter Three: Wake Up Calls

Spike couldn’t quite believe he’d made it back. He’d sought the missing piece, and oh how very dearly he had paid for it. Very nearly he’d lost an arm, an eye, his mind, her. Buffy’s hair was still damp from the shower she’d taken after their last bought. Her eyes moved as she dreamed. She shifted in her sleep, warm foot sliding against his own. Not for the first time, he reckoned this was what had cost Angel his soul. This having her defenseless in his arms, her utter trust.

Buffy stretched her arms and gave him a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” he asked.

She licked her lips. “Could be better.”

“Let’s work on that then, shall we?” he suggested, diving under the covers.

Buffy gave one loud shout of protest that turned into a moan when his tongue touched against her. He felt the sheet tighten against the back of his head as she fisted the covers. Under the blanket it was warm and dark and getting wetter by the second. Within minutes he felt the sheet loosen and knew her hands were in her hair. He wanted to see her, but he didn’t want to move.

It was all familiar but new at the same time. A strange thrill went through him with he found a rhythm she liked. As though it was a surprise that she liked the feeling of his tongue lapping at her or teasing at her clit. As though he hadn’t done all this before. Maybe it was the bit of William he’d reunited with, the uninitiated boy, flush with the excitement of tasting a woman.

Spike had tasted thousands of women, though not like this. This had been for his dark princess alone, but for a moment or two the bite could feel nearly as intimate. Amazing how similar the reaction was, the gasping and writhing, the calling out to God. The warm rush of honey into his mouth. The trick was knowing how much to take before they died, before they were too weak to cry. Because it wasn’t worth it, if they didn’t cry when you—

“Spike? Spike! What the hell just happened?” He shied away from the warm hands on his shoulders. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”

Her hand clamped around his bicep and he jerked away from her. “Don’t—don’t touch me just now,” he gasped. It was as though he could hear the blood moving in the vessels of her hand. Spike struggled to swim up out of the black. He felt something nubby under his legs and a dull scratching against his back. How had he gotten on the floor, against the wall? “What happened?”

”We were… you know, and then you flipped out and started screaming about how you didn’t want to eat me.” She frowned at him. “And I’m thinking you didn’t mean it in the sense of the act you were in the middle of.”

He let his head fall against his knee. “Had a flashback is all. Gave me a, what do you bloody California girls call it now, a wiggens?”

When next her hand brushed against him he could bear it. “You were thinking about stuff you used to do with women, weren’t you?”

Spike nodded miserably. She was so clean he wasn’t fit to touch her. He wished she’d go. He couldn’t stand it if she left. “Remembering, yeah. You... Slayer, you've no idea what I'm capable of."

“Spike, I'm not stupid. And anyway, that was… before,” she declared, squeezing his hand.

He tilted his head up to look at her stony little face, all firm with her conviction. His naked warrior princess. “Makes it all okay then, does it?”

Her eyes darted around a bit. “It’s something you don’t do anymore, Spike. It makes it something you don’t even want to do anymore.” She rested her gaze on him again. “But then, that was true before you even got the soul, wasn’t it? That’s why you did it?” Her grip on his fingers hurt. She didn’t wait for an answer. “That’s why I fell in love with you, Spike. I do know what you're capable of, but I also knew you were capable of change. You faced the monster inside of you and you fought back. You risked everything to be a better man.”

Despite the soaring sensation in his head, he smirked at her. “Yeah, well, striking me as not one of my better decisions at the moment, pet.”

She gave him a wry smile and pulled him to his feet. Spike let Buffy drag him back to the bed. “I really can’t even imagine what this is like for you. It’s this huge adjustment, and I want you to know that I get that.” She started gathering her things up off the floor. “And if you need some space while you—”

“Bugger that,” he muttered, grabbing at her elbow. She tumbled back over his legs and glared at him. “The hell are you doing?”

“You… you just said you didn’t want me touching you.”

“Needed a moment is all.” He pulled the sheets up around them and a sudden thought struck him. “Shall I finish you up, love? Didn’t mean to get you all worked up and then—”

Buffy laughed and stopped his hand's journey down her body. “I think the mood is officially slain, Spike. But maybe after a nap I can remind you what it is you do with women now or at least with this woman. If there are others, I might have to stake you.”

He laughed into her throat, settling in so he could feel the enticing, reassuring beat of her pulse. She glossed over his apologies and ordered him to sleep. Just before she drifted off, she murmured, “I believe in you, Spike. You can do this.”


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Willow wasn't prepared to see her, not yet. The campus bookstore was a necessary errand for all students though, so she probably shouldn't have been surprised. She almost considered ducking into the next aisle, but if she got caught hiding, it would be even more awkward. Assuming it could get more awkward.

"Hi." She quirked her eyebrows and gave a little wave.

"Hi," Tara repeated back quietly. "So you're back."

"Yep. I, uh, I didn't know whether I should call you or..."

"I knew you were coming home. I'm still... I'm still a member of the gang."

"Oh!" Willow tried to hide her surprise. "You weren't at the meeting last night, so--"

"I had other plans."

Willow felt a nasty feeling curl in her gut. Plans with somebody who never cut anyone in half, probably. "Plans are good. Hurray for plans."

Tara sighed. "I know this is uncomfortable, okay. I just... I saw you and I thought I should say hello."

"Well, that is the polite thing to do," Willow replied with a tight voice.

"Willow." There was such a sad note in Tara's voice. "I don't know what you expect from me."

Support, sympathy, something other than outright rejection?

Tara kept talking. "But I can't be with someone who--"

"I get it," Willow enunciated slowly. "Breaking up with me the day after Xander's funeral really drove the point home, Tara."

"You were leaving the country," Tara protested, which Willow had to grant was true. Still, when they’d met for a cup of coffee a few hours before she had to leave for the airport, she’d expected something a little less final than Tara’s resolute and thorough dumping.

"You know what? I don't expect anything from you, Tara. So you can stop worrying about it, okay. I'll see you at the meetings and I promise I'll make nice. If we're going to keep working together, I can be a grown-up about it."

If she didn’t go, she was going to make a complete ass of herself. Willow shoved her stack of books into a random shelf and resolved to buy them online, where they'd be cheaper anyway. She needed to get out of there. Refusing to respond to Tara's "Willow, wait" she thundered out of the store and then her day got even better.

"What's up, Hermione?"

Willow glared at the other woman. "What are you doing here?"

Faith shrugged and stamped out the butt of her cigarette. "Trolling for frat boys. Long incarceration."

She considered the other woman for a moment, still every bit the cleavagy slut-bomb. Lush hair, plush mouth, curvy--and she was so not thinking about Faith like that.

"They probably won’t be awake for another hour or two. And classes haven’t started yet.” Willow took a deep breath. “I'm getting a drink. You want a drink?"

Faith started to light another smoke. "Not a big coffee fan."

"I was thinking something stronger, but suit yourself."

Faith raised an eyebrow. "You buying?"

"Sure, whatever. Let's just go, okay?" She started walking.

The slayer fell in beside her. "Man, Hagatha, what's up your skirt?"

No one Willow brooded silently.


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"Is this going to be a sex dream?"

Buffy tried to blink away her blurred vision. Spike was still curled up at her back, but sitting on the chair in the corner was Xander.

"Huh?" she managed.

"Because, don't take this the wrong way, but the thought of this particular threesome isn't exactly giving me tingles."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Could you turn around while I get a robe or something?" Even in a dream she didn't want Xander to see her naked.

She stepped toward the closet, but she didn’t want to open that door. With a sigh Xander turned away and then there was suddenly a silk kimono in his hand. She grabbed it and wrapped it around herself quickly. There were spatters of blood from where it had brushed against his chest..

"Sorry about that," he said with a grimace.

"That's okay," she told him. "I usually end up covered in blood when this happens."

Spike turned on the bed and there were deep gashes in his chest. "He tried to cut it out," Buffy explained.

"It burns," Spike moaned.


"Aren't you going to put that out?" Xander asked. "You were going to be a fireman."

"I'm going to be a general instead," Buffy replied. "Or possibly a sergeant. Just as long as they give me a whistle."

"Is that how you'll call them?"

Buffy sank to the floor. "I don't know how to call them."

Something growled from inside the closet and the door began to shake in its frame.

"Maybe they call you. Either way, Buff, someone knows the right song."

"Somebody heard me," she deduced.

"Maybe you should think about that."

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Joyce poured the coffee and filtered out the sound of the television in the living room. It was fortunate for any number or reasons that Dawn and Amanda were getting along, considering that spending time with her new friend was the cover story the girl was using until she could bring herself to tell her parents.

Having been the parent in this situation before, Joyce sincerely hoped the girl would reach that point soon. It helped that Dawn agreed; she had overheard her sensitive daughter explaining that the reaction would just be worse the more she hid from them. Buffy, however, felt that it was up to Amanda, and Joyce realized this was just one on an increasingly long list of topics on which she and older daughter were going to have to agree to disagree.

"They seem quite friendly," Rupert voiced her inner musing.

She passed him a cup. "I think Dawn was a little disappointed at first, but now she seems happy just to be helping."

Rupert stirred his coffee. "And your reaction, when Dawn turned out not to be a slayer?"

"Intense relief, as you may have guessed." She listened to the faint murmur of the laugh track. "When Buffy explained it all to me years ago, she left out some details." She leveled her gaze at him. "So did you for that matter."

Giles nodded. "I understand if you're cross about that, but Buffy begged me not to be overly forthcoming."

Joyce sighed. "I know I should be grateful about the lack of danger and her freedom from sacred burden, but my first thought was that maybe I would have grandchildren some day." She shook her head. "Isn't that awful?"

"I don't think so, no," Giles assured her. “How is Faith?”

Joyce waved her hand in a so-so gesture. “Some days are better than others. I think everyone’s glad the Council salary will let her get her own place. Especially with Buffy going to college, it would be a little strange having her here. They’re getting along though. Or,” she amended wryly, “if they’re making death threats, they’re not doing it in front of me.”

Giles chuckled and nodded at her. “They seem remarkably united.”

“You know, last spring those boys made Buffy think she’d accidentally killed a girl. I think it gave her more insight than she wanted on what it was like to be Faith.”

“Buffy has become rather understanding, hasn’t she?” he noted archly.

Joyce knew he was referring to Spike, but that wasn’t a topic she was up to addressing at the moment. At least not directly. She gave him a long look. “Buffy says you told her once that forgiving is something we do because people need it, not because they deserve it.” Very briefly, she placed her hand over his. “I forget sometimes how smart you are.”

Rupert blinked at her in that flustered, confused way of his. "Thank you again for lunch, Joyce."

"It was my pleasure," she replied, relieved that he let that lie. "How did breakfast with Anya go?"

"The shop is doing quite well. And, I believe she is interested in the Council's offer."

Joyce was going to tell him how glad she was, how she hoped it would give Anya purpose. The poor woman needed something to hold onto. Without Xander to anchor her, it seemed like she might very well shrivel up and float away. She wanted to impart some small part of that to Giles. Only Buffy burst in through the back door just then with her hair in a tangle and an angry mouth.

"I want to talk to Travers. Now."

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I didn’t get to Anya this chapter, but I’m already working on a draft of her POV for the next chapter.