Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar for the beta job on this larger-than-usual chapter. Thanks to zanthinegirl for giving it an extra run through. And as always, thanks to my readers and reviewers for support and encouragement. Also: this chapter contains some themes and viewpoints with which I know some of my readers will disagree. I’ve touched on some of these topics before in my fic, and I hope this will answer the questions some folks have been asking me without detracting from the story. Feedback is always appreciated, and now, on the with the show…

In our seventh installment the girls get a lesson in vampire psychology, Buffy frets about the First and buys furniture, Faith considers what’s going on with Willow, and Anya comes home.

Chapter Seven: Nesting

Dawn took a seat next to Amanda and pulled a notebook out of her backpack. She’d missed the beginning of Spike’s little talk, but at least she’d finished taking inventory in the stock room in time for the Q and A. Dawn settled in, uncapped her pen, and giggled at Amanda’s notebook. In her perfect penmanship was noted that it was the second Tuesday in November. Above that, she’d written Interview with the Vampire, or Spike tells us why vamps suck.

Spike was perched on the counter, waiting for one of the girls around the research table to find the guts to ask a question. Octavia was the first to speak up, as usual. “So, you just wake up all ‘must have blood’ or what?”

“Wake up hungry, yeah. Human body is often most convenient to come by after rising. But it’s not just the blood a vampire’s hungry for.” Spike frowned, opened his mouth, then frowned again. “Vampire’s got a demon in him,” Spike went on, staring right at her. “Some stronger than others, some wickeder than others, but that’s irrelevant. Demon wants more than plasma. Vampires can live on any mammal, even avian blood will do in a pinch.”

“So why do you eat people? Isn't being on the pig's blood diet less work? Why not just start out that way?” Connie asked, looking a little ill.

Spike took a deep breath, and Dawn could almost see him girding himself with his badass attitude. “Because cups of pig swill do not tremble and beg for mercy.”

“That’s revolting,” Yvonne pointed out.

“Hello, they’re demons,” Amanda pointed out. “What did you think they did it for?” She tapped her pen against her notebook. “I mean, it’s got to be easier to just, like, retire to the country and raise sheep or something, right?”

“Some do,” Spike acknowledged, “but very few.”

“Because humans taste better?” Solana asked.

“We’re more fun to hunt. And we fight back. The demon craves violence. Isn’t that what you said during your lecture?”

“Very good, Octavia.” Spike lit a cigarette and ignore Deirdre’s wrinkled nose. “The demon hears your little girly heart beating, knows there’s powerful blood brimming underneath your skin, and doesn’t care that you’re someone’s love or daughter or mother. Or sometimes the demon does care, and that’s why he’s picked you.”

“That is supremely fucked up.”

“Language, Octavia!” David objected. Dawn smirked. He was so cute. Diane and Anil just kept taking notes, eyes flitting around from girl to girl as they jotted things down. Dawn wondered whether it was the slayers or Spike they were taking notes on.

“There is a theory, you see,” David went on, “that the vampire has no super-ego. Possibly this is the dominion of the soul, and once the host’s soul has fled you are left with the id of the demon and the ego of the host. With no pressure to follow societal norms, the id is given nearly free rein, colored by the experience and tendencies of the host.”

“That was helpful,” Deirdre chimed in with an eye-roll, gum-snap combo.

“No, I get that,” Connie said softly. “It’s like… that girl who used to talk shit about you in the fifth grade, or the teacher who accused you of cheating, or whatever. We all have those thoughts, right? Like, I could just kill her. And then if you become a vampire, you do it. Someone looks at you cross-eyed, and bam! You know it’s bad, but you don’t have any reason to care anymore.”

“You are familiar with Freud?” Yvette asked, in a way that made it clear she was suspicious of Connie’s input.

“Sounds about right to me,” Spike put in.

“So if I have this right,” Amanda chimed in. “You said the vampire’s instinct is to hunt and kill, and humans are, what, the tastiest thing on the menu?”

“No, love, you are the best thing on the menu.” He took a long drag. “I think that’s enough for one evening, ladies.”

“Why?” Deirdre drawled. “We making you hungry?”

Spike sneered at her. “Something like that, yeah.”

The other girls gathered their books and disbursed, chatting and laughing, comparing notes. Solana and Deirdre went home with Diane, Anil took the twins, and Amanda went home to her parents. Connie and Octavia went down to the training room for one last sparring match under David’s supervision. Dawn waited until they were all elsewhere to talk to Spike. “I know that was no fun.”

Spike snorted at her. “Well, need to know, don’t they? Can’t have them thinking vampires are just following the natural order. Nothing natural about vampires and worrying whether the newly risen fiend in the graveyard would happily bed down on an isolated meadow somewhere is going to get them killed.” He fingered another cigarette, but didn’t light it. “And I intend to keep them alive, long as I can.”

Dawn smiled at him. “I know you do.”

David was so quiet coming up the stairs that Dawn nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke. “Ah, Dawn, you’re still here. I think I may have a theory on how I can help you with your visions.”

“Great!” She was still nervous about sharing the visions, but it had been weeks and she was still no closer to finding the girl.

He blinked at her and ducked his head. “I am sorry for staring. You are such a lovely girl.”

Dawn felt a little stunned. And thrilled. “Um, thank you.”

“You quite remind me of my sister.”

It felt like someone had let all the air out of her. She just nodded and kept her smile pasted on while he explained about the ritual. When he’d gone she allowed herself to flop down in a chair and bang her head on the table.

Spike petted her hair. “Come on, Bit. I’d have to kill him anyway, far too old for you. Let’s get you home.”


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Buffy took a deep breath as she absorbed Giles’s story. “Okay, so what you’re telling me is that the seer who was griping about the balance being off and evil finding a way in, was all visioning ahead of schedule or whatever?”

Giles cleaned his glasses furiously. “Indeed.”

“See, this is why I hate prophecies and visions and all that crap. So it’s my fault. I upset the balance when I had Willow do the activator spell.”

“Buffy, you were hardly alone in making that decision. I still believe it was the right one, even if the First has taken advantage.”

She kicked the table leg, which was a bad idea. The kitchen table in the apartment was barely holding together. They almost never used it, not for eating anyway, so it didn’t matter. With a few paychecks in her account, she could finally afford to get some decent furniture for him and a dinette set that was less structurally challenged was high on the list.

“Those two dead girls last summer, were they even really Potentials? Or did It just kill them to draw me out?”

Giles sighed. “We have no way of knowing, but if I’m following you, your theory seems sound enough. Yes, I dare say it is entirely possible that he had his minions kill those girls to spur you into activating the potentials.”

More blood on her hands then. Buffy drew her fingers through her hair. “So what does It want?” Besides the joy of torturing her. Their best guess, backed up by the Chronicles, was that It could look like dead people. Which explained Warren and Angel. It didn’t explain how it had blown Willow’s circuits. Tara’s theory was that Willow had been briefly possessed, filled up with the First just long enough to make her really sick. Willow couldn’t hold an evil like that inside her for long. Which was weirdly the most encouraging thing Buffy had heard about Willow in a long time. Considering that her best friend was now a killer who sometimes made out with Faith.

God, she hated thinking about her friends that way, and it still felt like Faith had stolen Willow. Which was so unfair. Buffy had been avoiding Willow. It felt weird being a duo instead of a trio. Not that the two of them hadn’t spent time as a pair when Xander was alive, but now that he was gone being with Willow felt… unbalanced, like the first time you try a big-kid bike after your tricycle.

It didn’t help that she was obsessing on what the First had said to Spike either. And, that mouth thing had totally been directed at Spike, no matter what he said. Spike wanted her to leave it, and she had to admit that probably he was right.

As if conjured up by her thoughts, she heard his keys in the door. He and Giles exchanged greetings and she leaned back so he could kiss her. "That tea?" he asked, gesturing to the cups on the table.

"Yeah. I'll make you a cup," she offered. She knew it had been a rough night for him. He wasn't as chipper telling his bloody stories to impressionable young women as he used to be.

"You sit, love. I'll let you two have your chat." He took a mug down from the cabinet. "Votre mère vous prendra des achats de meubles après classe demain."

Buffy sighed and closed her eyes. "Mom is doing something with me tomorrow? After class." She waited, but he just nodded, all unhelpful. "What's meubles?"

"Furniture," Giles chimed in.

So Mom was taking her furniture shopping. "Any other messages from home?"

Spike made a face and shook his head, then took his tea into the living room. She could hear him flipping channels and knew he was sulking.

"Is he alright?" Giles asked.

She shook her head. "The First really freaked us both out. He'll deal." Buffy turned her attention back to Giles. "So, how do we find out what It wants?"

Giles rubbed his temples. "I wish I could illuminate that, Buffy. Our hope might lie in Its tendency to taunt Its enemies. As alarming as those run-ins may be, they may give us insight into Its plans."

"So, we're hoping it's chatty like a Bond villain? I think we need more plan than that."

Giles gave her a wry smile. "I'll be working on that," he assured her.

She gave him a quick hug at the door. She was hugging more. She'd never been big with the physical affection and after she came back from the grave she'd barely touched anyone but Spike. Loosing Xander had made her so aware though that every moment might be the last. So she'd become more huggy.

Alone with Spike, she curled up on the sagging couch with him. "You okay?" He didn't answer, just wrapped an arm around her. She straddled his lap and grabbed up the remote to shut off the TV. Buffy traced his lips with her finger. His mouth was hers, no matter what he used to do with it. His mouth and hands and cock, the whole thing. She didn't care, not really, about his sexual past. "You're mine now, you know that? You belong to me alone."

The words sounded slightly absurd to her ears, and she never would have said something like that to a human boyfriend. But she'd spent enough time squeezing him between her thighs while he begged her to make those kinds of statements to know how much he liked it.

So the haunted look started to retreat from his face and he relaxed into the cushions under her. He pressed his face into her hand and pulled on the waistband of her pants to bring her into closer contact with him. "Remind me," he growled.

Buffy found the drawer in the end table by memory and pulled out the handcuff. The way his eyes went dark and his body went obediently limp under hers at the tell-tale clinking sent a jolt of warmth and power through her. They were going to give the old furniture a thorough send-off.

-------

Joyce could hear the music rising up the stairs to meet her. She felt a wave of odd old memories as the beat pounded on. I've been waiting so long, to be where I'm going. She half expected the door to be opened by a rumple-haired Brit in a ratty t-shirt with a cigarette in his teeth.

And then that happened, which threw her for a moment. Ripper, she thought to herself idly.

"You alright, Joyce?"

Joyce tried to clear her head of the faintly disturbing thought that she and her daughter had the same taste in men. "I'm sorry, Spike. The music..."

"Too loud?" he asked, moving aside to let her pass into the apartment.

She shook her head to clear it. "No, it's just amazing how music is tied to memory."

He turned it off anyway, and put out the cigarette for good measure. She could tell he was working to be on his best behavior, the same way he was at Sunday dinners. Dawn always teased him about it, how he suddenly remembered all his Victorian manners when he sat down at the table and promptly forgot them as soon as he was out the door.

Buffy came hopping out of the bedroom with one boot on and another in her hand. "Almost ready!" she blurted. Spike disappeared into the bathroom, which distracted Joyce from the obvious fact that they'd clearly been in bed together moments before. Did vampires have the sort of bodily functions that required a bathroom?

In the car Buffy was going on in a bouncy way about classes and training and the girls. Couldn't they have them over for Thanksgiving, except for Deirdre whose parents were flying her home and wasn't it unfortunate that they'd have to invite the French twins too since they were so irritating and probably didn't give a damn about an American holiday anyway.

Buffy did seem happier, she had to admit. She was doing well in school, she was planning for at least the near future, and she seemed enthusiastic about training the new girls. If playing house with a vampire was keeping her mind out of the grave, as contradictory as that seemed, Joyce would keep her peace. She realized Buffy had asked a question, and the question was "Is this weird?", and considering that the answer to that was almost certainly yes, Joyce decided to answer with a question herself.

"Is what weird, sweetie?"

"This. Me." Joyce felt her hands strangling the steering wheel. "There's some big evil on the horizon and I'm picking out occasional tables."

Joyce relaxed. "You're doing all you can, aren't you? This... thing, whatever it wants, doesn't change the fact that you desperately need a new sofa."

Buffy slumped against the passenger door. "Our living room is pretty sad isn't it? I just hate to think I'm sending some dumb 'when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping' message to the girls, you know?" She tapped her nails on the glass. "I mean, I think I send enough mixed messages with the whole 'we kill vampires, except for the one I'm living with' thing."

Joyce smirked at her daughter. "I think they understand the distinction." She pulled into the parking lot and felt Buffy's hand on hers as she put the car in park.

"I appreciate you doing this, Mom. I know you're not thrilled about the whole situation."

She smiled, but didn't say anything. Not thrilled was a mild way to describe it.

“We’re really good though.”

“Uh huh.”

“We are.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, sweetie.”

Buffy gave her a suspicious look but let it drop in favor of staring at the sea of furniture in front of them. Her daughter seemed overwhelmed. Joyce sighed and patted a nice, moderately-priced beige loveseat. "Something like this maybe?"

Buffy poked at it. "I don't know. How hard would it be to get blood stains out of the fabric?"

Joyce took a deep breath and steeled herself. It was going to be a long afternoon.


-----------

She had no idea what she was doing. Faith had just left Willow's dorm room, and she wasn't entirely sure whether they'd had sex or not. There had been a lot of touching and some seriously satisfying climaxing, and she was pretty sure Willow had done something magical there at the end. Like actual magic, not romance novel magic. But she wasn't sure it was sex.

Faith hadn't planned on getting involved with Willow. It was all so surreal. She wasn't into girls and if she'd wanted to explore that option it seemed like something she should have done while she was locked up with a bunch of females, not after. Not to mention the fact that Willow annoyed the shit out of her, all wishy-washy and weepy. Except when she was fierce. When she was fierce she was pretty amazing, which was easier to appreciate now that they were on the same side.

She stuck around for a little while to answer questions for Buffy, not that she could tell her much. And, for some reason she'd made herself watch while Tara and Willow held hands and chanted, even though it gave her an unpleasant violent feeling. She'd bailed to go fight something and figured she'd maybe run into Willow again next Friday.

But then Willow called and asked if she could pick her up from the hospital. Faith hadn't planned on being wanted like that or on rubbing her shoulders when Willow said she was "all head-achy" or taking Willow's shirt off. But once it happened, it seemed like a good idea.

Faith lit a cigarette and looked around furtively. She could have sworn there was some squirrelly blond guy following her lately, but she'd never caught more than little glances of him, so it could just be coincidence. Except that she was in Sunnydale. Maybe it was just her overactive imagination. She was always extra jumpy, ever since that CO had knifed her. She had matching scars on either side now.

Inside her little studio apartment she toed off her boots and drank some water to try to clear her head of post-orgasmic haze. It was late though, and she'd had a long couple days. She went through her nightly routine, and like every night it took her a few minutes to realize she'd have to turn off the lights herself. It was strange how prison life stayed with you. Months of freedom and she was still tense all the time, waiting for someone to bark an order.

When she opened her eyes, she was back in the old Sunnydale High library. Only it was empty of books and full of crates marked ‘Caution’. There was also a giant green lizard curled among them. She sat on a table and folded her hands over the top of the axe.

“Gosh, that’s a nifty gizmo you’ve got there, Faith.”

“Thanks, boss.” She crossed her legs, feeling exposed in the pink floral dress.

“I think of what you've done, what I know you will do... You’ll always have me, firecracker. I’ll always be with you.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know.”

“Hey.”

Buffy was behind her. She turned and watched as Buffy held out her hand. Faith started to hand the axe over, but Buffy frowned and shook her head. “Come on, we can’t be late,” she huffed as she grabbed Faith’s empty hand. The sleeves of their red gowns overlapped, making them look conjoined for a moment.

The tassel from Faith's cap bounced off her eye as they hurried down an endless hall full of lockers. One of them shook and rattled and Faith stopped to stare at it. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed. There was light streaming through the grates and the metal was warm to the touch. She tugged at the lock. “I can’t get it open.”

Buffy was pouting at her. “I thought you were ready, Faith. This is your day.”

“I am, but… I think I need this.” She looked up and down the empty halls. The axe glimmered in the light filtering. Colors danced across the blade. “Don’t you want to know what’s inside?”

The older slayer sighed. "Not really. I've already done this once. We need to go." She pointed at the clock over the double doors at the end of the hall.

"That clock is totally wrong," Faith sighed, spinning the dial on the Masterlock.

“We can get the combination from the principal later. We have to go,” Buffy insisted.

“Damn, B. Alright. I’m coming.”

“I’m coming already,” she repeated, realizing that she was awake and that someone was banging on the door. She blinked her eyes and tried to pull herself together.

Willow was on the other side of the door, head ducked, looking mega embarrassed. “I woke you up,” she moaned. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t--”

She grinned at the witch. “Well, you’re here now. So come in already.”

This time she’d just up and ask Willow whether what they did was sex or not.

---------

Dear Xander,

I am home for the holidays. Now that David and Dawn have found the lost Chinese slayer, a local Watcher has been dispatched. Which is just as well since the language barrier would be a problem in training her with the other girls. Dawn hasn’t had any more visions, so I’m back in Sunnydale for the foreseeable future.

Isn’t it amazing how little of the future is really foreseeable?

The new Watchers are terrible salespeople. At least Giles and Dawn managed to keep us in the black. That Dawn is really something. She put this potted plant on your grave while I was gone, so now there’s ivy trailing over the headstone. It’s attractive and far more economical than fresh flowers.

Joyce is having us all for Thanksgiving. I think I might try baking a pie. You always liked my pies. I miss you.

She crumpled the letter and wiped away a few tears. It was too breezy to burn the paper, so she put it in her pocket to take care of later. The sun was low in the sky, casting orange and purple shades across the markers. Anya missed Xander, but she wasn’t quite ready to join him yet, so she pulled his old flannel shirt tight across her chest and made her way out of the cemetery before the sun set.

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I’m drafting the next chapter already. I will be out of town next week for the holiday, so I am not sure when the next post will be, but I’ll be writing while I’m away. Thanks for reading!