Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar and my readers. I am back from my various travels and hopefully will start posting much more frequently. I don’t know if I can get this done before Christmas, but that would be fabulous! Please keep reading and reviewing.

In our ninth installment Spike encounters his ancestors, Willow does a lot of thinking, and Buffy has a rough night.

Chapter Nine: First Wave

The big patrols always made him a bit edgy. Felt too obvious, so many of them in one place, bound to attract attention. It also made the girls less cautious. They were given to chattering and giggling. Tonight the four on duty were walking ahead of Buffy and himself, talking away.

Buffy was holding the axe in a way that made him oddly jealous. Bloody stupid feeling to have about her special slayer weapon, but he couldn't help noticing they possessive way she had with it, how it seemed to hurt her to pass it over to Faith.

There were other special slayer weapons, of course, and he and Anya were working on tracking them down. Had one on the way already, and once he made sure it was authentic, it would make a hell of a Christmas present.

Ought to get her something romantic too, he mused. She had wandered away from the crowd a bit. It worried him that she seemed so distracted whenever they passed through this area, but couldn't bring himself to blame her or to mention it. She combed her fingers through the ivy trailing over Harris's headstone and she was whispering something, too quiet even for his ears.

Unfortunately he could hear all too well what the girls said about the hot principal and some band they fancied and the merits of some sad, skinny sod in the next grade level. He was trying so hard not to pay attention to them that he almost missed the way Buffy's head snapped up.

"Something's here!" she shouted just before something emerged from behind a mausoleum and pounced.

Spike froze for a minute as the girls leapt into action. They were struggling, scared to get too close to the gnarled, hideous thing.

"Spike!"

He was vaguely aware that someone was calling to him, but there was a rumbling deep inside him. And a quavering fear that left him immobile.

"Spike! William!"

Spike jerked back into awareness and charged. The smell of slayer blood blossomed in the air and he could hear one of the girls screaming. He grappled with it frantically, but it was at the very least a match for his strength.

From the corner of his eye he saw Connie hoist a bleeding Solana into her arms and flee, the French girls clinging to each other. Then there was Buffy, kicking the thing off him and slicing through its neck with the axe.

"What... what was that?" Yvonne demanded.

"Vampire," Spike panted. "That was a vampire."

"You are a vampire," Yvette insisted.

"Not like that," Buffy said quietly. She held out a hand. "Are you okay?"

He let her pull him up. Over her shoulder Angel was grinning at him. "About time you learned to respect your elders, William."

Buffy spun around, but It was already gone. She turned back to him and stroked his arms. "You're shaking."

"We should go catch up with Connie and Solana," Spike insisted. "And call Giles." He could tell from her expression that she wasn't going to let it go that easily, but she was willing to shelve it until latter.

Yvette and Yvonne stayed close this time, alert and aware now.


-------

Willow jotted another note down and looked up from the book. Faith was practically bouncing with impatience, but Willow had work to do. Their plans could wait. Not that she didn't... enjoy her time with Faith, but just because Faith didn't have anything to do besides patrol and have sex that didn't change that fact that Willow had other demands on her time.

"Excuse me." The deep voice made her look up.

A handsome black guy was standing at her shoulder with a box in his hand. He gave her a friendly smile. "I was told I might be able to find Rupert Giles here."

Faith was blinking up at the guy like she'd lost the power of speech. Willow sighed and closed her book. It wasn't like she hadn't known she was just a diversion and that eventually Faith was going to want to drive stick again. Still...

"Giles isn't in right now."

"If you wanted to leave your number--"

"There might be someone here who can help you," Willow cut Faith off. "One moment." She took off her gloves and covered the book carefully.

It was no wonder Anya was always griping about the new watchers working the shop. With the widow on a late lunch break, Anil was hiding out in the stock room. When she reemerged with the irritated young man, Faith and the guy were leaning close and chatting. The body language was pretty clear.

"Good heavens! Robin?" Anil called out. "Whatever are you doing in Sunnydale."

"I'm over at Sunnydale High now," he answered. "The location," he added slowly and pointedly, "appealed to me."

Anil punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Still haven't graduated, Robin? My, my."

The two men went on catching up and Willow tuned them out, going back to the text.

The elders say that our strong cousins began to push the Old Ones out of the colder climes. 'Strong cousins = Neanderthal?' Willow scribbled on her notebook. Her head hurt. The glamour that made the Faryl morph into English to her eyes was tough to keep up. Then They came into our warmer world and would make slaves of us. The soldiers of Y'w say they have weapons forged by their god, given unto them to fight back against the evil of the Old Ones. Their symbols do repel the Halfling and I have seen their implements make ash of the enemy. At the Gatherings they are full of tales of how their god smote the Old Ones, giving their hands the strength of thousands. Y's'a told me the story of his fathers.

"...slayer..."

Willow's head shot up and the glamour evaporated. Robin Wood was also staring at Anil in shock. "Oh, they know," Anil said dismissively.

"You all... you all work with the slayer?" Wood asked, still looking a little baffled.

"Work with? You're talking to a slayer, Sparky," Faith informed him tartly.

"Then maybe I should be giving this to you," he said quietly. He handed the box to Faith, who turned it over in her hands experimentally. “It’s some sort of slayer emergency kit. It was my mother’s. I probably should have turned it over when she was killed but…” he shrugged.

“You wanted something to remember her by,” Faith finished. “I get that.”

"Wait," Willow thought aloud. "Robin Wood, are you Nicole Wood's son?"

He gave her a long look. "You know about my mother?"

Willow swallowed. "I do a lot of reading," she hedged. "I've read her watcher's diary." All of that was true, of course. It just wasn't the whole truth.

"We should get a drink or something," Faith suggested with a sly smile. "I can fill you in on the new slayer sitch."

"That would be nice," Robin agreed. Willow felt another flip in her stomach.

"Hey. You guys ready?" Willow hadn't even heard the bell jingle, but there were Buffy and Spike.

"Sure, just give me a minute." She wrapped the book and handed it gently to Anil.

Robin was eyeing Spike with frank curiosity. "Nice coat."

"Let's go," Willow blurted, grabbing Faith's arm and hauling her toward the door. "It was nice to meet you," she threw over her shoulder.

"We'll talk," Faith added.

Swell. Willow's skin felt tight. She fell in step behind the blonds and then Faith's hand linked with hers. The slayer bumped her hip. "You okay?" she asked. "You seem pissed."

"Five by five," she muttered back.

Willow wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to drinks after patrol. Seeing Faith flirt with Wood had been demoralizing enough, and just as she’d suspected she was going to be treated to lots of watching the slayers grind on the dance floor. Spike had also declined the invitation to dance. She’d never really thought about it, but they had a few things in common besides dating chicks with superpowers. He’d been a bit of a geek too, a weak wallflower until someone supernatural had come along and changed their lives.

He’d gotten over it, she supposed.

He looked the two of them over as they practically mauled each other to the beat of the song. She saw his eyebrow quirk when she caught his gaze. “No,” was all she said.

His expression turned nasty for a minute, but then he just lit a cigarette. “Never was one for sharing anyway,” he said lightly.

Neither was she. Another thing they had in common. And part of the reason she was thinking it might be good to just end things now, before Faith got any more chummy with the slayer’s son than she already had. “It’s just a dog and pony show anyway,” she sighed.

“Is mine the pony, then?”

A blessedly brief mental image of the two blonds flashed behind her eyes. She smiled into her glass. “Actually I’m thinking you’re probably the pony.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she couldn’t believe she’d said them. Neither could Spike, if the way he jaw was hanging was any indication. She covered her own shock by scoffing at him. “Oh good grief, unclutch your pearls, Spike.”

“Didn’t think you were interested in my pearls, Red,” he shot back, having recovered.

She made a face and turned to watch the slayers on the dance floor some more. “She’s about to hop the bus back to boy’s town,” Willow mused aloud. She had a sneaking suspicion that some people had expected her to do the same after Tara, but that prospect held no appeal for her. Well, there was always an Oz Clause. But otherwise…

Spike interrupted her train of thought. “What make you so sure?”

“Dawn’s principal came by the store today. They… sparked.” She gave the vampire a sideways glance. “You saw him. And you’d remember his mother.”

“I would?”

Willow saw the other girls headed back to the table. She hid her face in her glass again and said just loud enough for him to hear, “Nicole Wood. You killed her.”


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Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're trying to be so quiet. We sit here stranded, though we're all doing our best to deny it.

Spike had put on one of Bob Dylan CDs in again, and Buffy had to admit it was nice for old stuff. She was lying back against the pillows and Spike rested on her shoulder with his back against her chest. Occasionally he'd run a hand up and down her leg, but for the most part they were just laying there, catching their breath and thinking their separate thoughts.

“Something on your mind tonight? You seem all thinky,” she commented.

He shrugged. “Something Willow said. Brought up some bad memories. Rather not talk about it.”

She stroked his hair. “Okay.” The position gave her a great view of his arms. She ran her fingers over the muscles there. "You were so scrawny when we met," she teased. "Is it all the pig's blood that's made you all pumped up?"

He snorted, but smiled too, which wasn't happening nearly enough since the Turok Han thing had attacked them. She was scared too and just as desperate to know what else the First had up Its sleeve, but Spike had been really shaken up. Was he afraid she’d reject him again, knowing that there was a little bit of that running through him? Or maybe he’d felt something disturbing, like kinship instead of horror. Either way, he wasn’t talking about it and she didn’t want to press him. Yet.

"Was Angel all skinny before he got the soul, too?"

Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously. He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously.

"No. Your great love was always a hulking pillock."

The smile was all gone now. She sighed. "God, don't get all pouty. And, don't try pulling that 'great love' crap."

"Did love him though," Spike groused, starting to pull away from her.

Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled him back into place. "Yes, I did. So what? I love you, you dope. It's not like I'm the first person you ever loved either, so cut it out." Her right foot stroked his thigh in an attempt to distract him.

"Sodding poofter."

She squeezed him with her legs. "Will you cut it out?" Spike squirmed in her grip, causing a vertebra to rub against her in a pleasant way. A little gasp escaped her.

"Doesn't sound like you want me to cut it out, slayer."

She tipped his head back so she could lean down and kiss him. Spike twisted to his side and brought a hand up to cup her breast. His mouth broke from hers to seek the nipple his thumb had prepared and she closed her eyes against the feel of it.

"This all mine now, then?" he asked quietly, trailing his lips along the underside of her breast. She shivered; she'd never known that was an erogenous zone before Spike. She hadn't known a lot before Spike.

"You know I am," she told him sincerely.

She heard a tell-tale clinking and automatically lifted her hands up for him as he rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table.

The phone rang and with a reluctant groan, she reached for it. "Hello?" Spike was pouting at her persuasively and it took a few beat for the words to penetrate her brain. "Oh my god!" she gasped. "We'll be right there!"

-------

Dawn tried really, really hard not to freak out. Which was difficult to do with two truly creepy and deadly creatures staring through the windows at her. She just hoped that Willow's charms would hold until Buffy could get there. Mom was standing close by, clutching an axe with severe mama bear face on. That did make her feel a little safer.

But her sense of security ratcheted up much more when she saw one of the figures explode into dust. The second one turned and Dawn couldn’t swallow a scream when a stream of blood hit the window. Then the blade of the axe was shining in the porch light and the second creature went down.

Her mother raced for the door and threw it open. “Oh my god, Buffy!”

Spike carried her sister in, his hand clasped over her bleeding arm. “Bandages, Bit!” he yelled and Dawn thundered down the hall to the linen closet.

Spike ripped Buffy’s shirt off and then stepped back to let her mom and Faith tend the wound. Out of the corner of her eye, Dawn saw him staring at his hands, and then he was gone. Buffy just gritted her teeth, insisting that she was fine. Her eyes began to lose focus though and Dawn hurried to the kitchen to get something sugary.

She was distracted by the sight of Spike frantically trying to wash Buffy’s blood off his hands. Dawn wanted to say something, but she had to get back to Buffy. Joyce smiled gratefully at her and held the bottle of juice for Buffy to drink. Faith was saying something about a slayer emergency kit, and Buffy was agreeing that maybe it was time to declare an emergency. Mom started in on both of them, demanding to be let in on whatever was going on.

In the kitchen Spike was still scrubbing his hands. She put a hand on his shoulder and reached for the tap. “They’re still red,” he protested.

“You’ve been rubbing them together under scalding water, Spike, even you are going to pink up if you boil yourself.” She grabbed a towel and patted his hands dry. They felt warm to her touch; weird. “She’s going to be okay, you know.”

“You should stay here tonight,” her mom insisted before Spike could answer. Dawn watched his eyes go to the pile of bloodied bandages in Joyce’s hands.

“That’s a good idea,” Dawn agreed. “Take her upstairs and get some rest okay.”

Mom dumped the garbage and put an arm around Dawn. “Is he okay?”

Dawn shrugged. “He’ll be okay,” she replied. She didn’t say anything else, but she understood it. Spike couldn’t stand having Buffy’s blood on his hands. She didn’t want to think too much about why.

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Want to know what happens next? Chapter Ten is posted too!