AN: Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews! Many thanks to Desi, my wonderful beta!


She was livid. If this were a cartoon, Buffy was sure she’d be spouting steam from both her ears. Of course it was fine for him to be seeing someone new, but god forbid she go out dancing a couple times! She was about to tell him how amazingly prosaic his jealousy was, considering the fact that he was supposed to be in love with someone else now, when she looked into his eyes. And it hit her.

He was in love with someone else now. And that someone else had just died while he’d been whisked away by god-only-knows what magicks to halfway around the world, where there was nothing he could do to help her. It didn’t exactly make her anger nonexistent, but it did mean it wasn’t appropriate to start something here. “Angel, I’m sorry,” was all she could say. Then she was at Willow’s side, feeling for her pulse, checking her temperature. She did this, too, sometimes. Less frequent than the space-cadet thing, a vision was always accompanied by a fainting spell, a slight fever and…

“Eewww,” Buffy reached into her pocket for a tissue. Yep, she thought as she dabbed at the blood trickling from Willow’s nose, this was legit. Something big was going down.

Angel was still standing over the same chair, staring, uncomprehending at the television when Buffy picked Willow off of the floor to take her to a more comfortable place. “Ummm, Angel, I’m going to take Willow back to her room, then go check on Spike and your blue friend. You, uh, you stay here as long as you want. Hopefully they’ll have news of Gunn soon. Call me when they do.” She backed away the first few feet. He still hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked. But she knew there was nothing she could do for him, so she got on the elevator and let the doors shut, watching his back all the while.

Kennedy let her into the apartment and helped Buffy settle Willow into their bed.

“Have you heard, Buffy? LA’s gone the way of SunnyD.”

“Straight from the Wicca’s freaky ability to control television sets,” Buffy quipped, shifting a still-packed moving box off of the couch so she could sit down. “So tell me, has she been having more of these visions lately?”

Kennedy hesitated then nodded her head. “It’s been pretty scary, but she didn’t want to say anything. She said that everything has…”

“An order.” Buffy dropped her head into her hands, a dull ache starting in her temples.

“Yeah.”

“She’s been big on that order thing lately. Has she told you anything else, Kennedy?”

“She didn’t even tell me why we had to pack up and move to Rome two days ago, Buffy. And you look like absolute hell, which does tell me that there’s something more going on than this LA thing.”

You had to hand it to Kennedy. She may have control issues, but she was also incredibly observant.

Buffy dragged in a breath. She knew that once she told Kennedy, every slayer in the complex would know within an hour, but as it seemed like they’d all be mobilizing soon enough, it might as well come out now. Plus, it would make Kennedy feel important to be the first to know. “There was some sort of apocalyptic battle going down in LA, Ken. Angel and his team were involved.” She laughed a little at that, the chuckle strained as she mentally replayed the image of the burning city where she'd spent her childhood. “Ok, they started it, actually. And somehow, instead of going down with the rest of the city, the four of them wind up in my apartment.” She shot a sharp, questioning gaze at the younger Slayer, her green eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“What?” Kennedy asked, annoyance tingeing her voice.

“Willow wasn’t performing a spell about a half an hour ago, was she?”

“No, we were taking a tour of the building. We got to the training floor and I wanted to check out the weapons and stuff and she wanted to head up to the next floor and check out the medical facilities. Said she might meet someone. I thought she meant the head mystical healer that was in the coven with her during that time she spent in England.”

Buffy shook her head. “I took Angel and a member of his team up there just before she went all spacey. The other guy was badly hurt.”

“Guess that’s what she meant, then.”

Buffy stood and smoothed her hair down. “Well, let me know when she wakes up. I’d like to talk with her about this. And, um, you might want to pack a bag. If Giles agrees, I’d like to send a team out to California. And I think you should lead it.”

“Really?”

“With everything going on here, I can’t leave. Not right now. It will likely be dangerous, but I know I can count on you to keep your head and lead a team. You don’t have to agree right now, talk to Willow about it first. And call me when she’s ready to see me.”

“Will do, Buffy.” Kennedy got up to walk her to the door. As she walked out, Kennedy stopped her. “Thanks. You know, for thinking of me for this.”

“You’ve earned it, Ken.”


The good feeling she got from the look on Kennedy’s face left the moment she reached the elevator. She pressed the button and the lights over head lit up, telling her that it was on the sixth floor. Too anxious to wait for the ancient lift to travel three floors, she headed back down the hallway to the stairs. Once she reached them, however, she took them as slowly as possible until she got to the second floor. Her floor, but she passed right by her door and went to the elevator instead. Once inside, she pushed every button, and as she pressed her back to the wall, she felt her legs give out and she allowed herself to slide slowly down the wall to land on her butt. What was she supposed to do now? She’d just started to settle into her roles as General of the Slayer army, member of the upper echelons of the New Council, and charming young American ex-pat in a country where English was not the first language. But then again, it was May. Leave it to the Powers to send yet another cosmic mind-fuck her way. And this one seemed to be a doozy, as Willow might have said had she been conscious. The lift finally halted at the sixth floor, which was completely deserted as it was the one with all the classrooms and the baby slayers were all out enjoying their weekend. Also, it was the floor with access to the roof, with the breathtaking view over distant mountains, beautiful ruins and newer buildings that housed all kinds of yummy cafes and clothing stores. Yep, Buffy did love Rome.

“Too bad I have to leave so soon.”

She allowed herself one more glorious sunset over the city that she’d only just realized was the city of her dreams.

“Ah, pantera piccola, you think that now, but you never let me take you to Firenze.”

The smooth Italian voice flowed over her like caramel as she basked for one more glorious moment in the melancholy sound of the soothing tenor directed at her. His little panther, he called her. Right now she felt more like one of those cold marble statues he loved to show her in museums.

“Rafael,” she said when she finally opened her eyes, “I told you I don’t like when you read my thoughts like that.”

He chuckled, and it changed the tenor to a shiver-inducing baritone. “Bella, I do not look into that pretty head of yours. I simply feel what you feel. So you are leaving me?” He slipped an iron arm around her waist. “I would not have it so.” He kissed the top of her head and she sighed out the breath she had been holding as she relaxed against his tightly muscled chest. “I will not make a scene, though.”

“I thought you were the type to fight for your women, Rafael.”

“Only when I know they still want me. Your heart is with someone else, pantera. It is not something that happens to me often, but amore allineare is something I am loathe to tamper with, even being the cad that I am.”

She really lucked out finding an empath as her rebound guy, Buffy figured.

This brought out another chuckle in him. “Anyways, tesora, I do not envy the object of your affections. With this amore comes…” He searched for the right word as she turned in his arms to face her sometime lover. “Baggage?” An eyebrow quirked at her, it reminded her so much of Spike that she felt wholly uncomfortable. If he ever reminded her of anyone, it was usually Angel, with those dark eyes and the height. It was a little freaksome to have this guy remind her of both the men in her heart simultaneously. Rafael kissed the tip of her nose. “I always knew pantera mia, that you would go stalking off in search of more suitable prey.”

Choking back a snort, Buffy shook her head. “You’ve got a funny way of interpreting these feelings, caro.” She used another of his Italian endearments, relishing the way it rolled off her tongue even as she intended next to end things with him. “But you’re right about the baggage, and about me leaving.”

He nodded, smoky charcoal eyes never leaving hers. “Should my pantera find herself in Italia again, and without that love…”

“I know, Rafael.”

She left him on the roof, smiling just a little sadly.

*********

Illyria was getting too good at this game. Spike supposed that he’d have to find another one, where he still might hold an edge over her at.

He heard the key turning in the lock before the door opened, but kept his eyes glued to the television in front of him. Until, of course, he smelled that sweet familiar scent—green apples and spring rain, you had to hand it to the perfume industry—and her girlish voice, one year more mature, called out, “Buffy! Paolo’s taking me dancing tonight, so…”

“Hello, Nibblet.”

“Guh.”

“Big sis is out right now.” Spike kept an even tone as Dawn gaped at him. She was still as coltish as ever and knowing her, likely to either bolt or hit him any second. She’d highlighted her hair and her eyes seemed bigger, darker, somehow; probably some new trick she’d learned with her eyeliner. A minute had passed in silence now, and Dawn was unmoving. “So, bit, who’s this Paolo chap? I bet he could use a good thumping—oof!” He exhaled a great rush of unneeded breath as she barreled into him, suddenly sobbing. “Hey, now, no need for that. You didn’t figure me for the back-from-the-dead sort?” She only sobbed harder, so he stopped talking and just wrapped his arms around her slender, shaking frame. Apparently sometime after he’d died she decided she didn’t hate him anymore. Smart girl. He managed a lopsided grin and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“You were dead,” she managed to wail through hiccups, “and I never told…never said goodbye.”

“Well, luv, as I told your sis not two hours ago, I’ve been dead since before you knew me. Apparently it just isn’t a permanent state of being for me.”

She was calming now, but she still held tight to him. “I just didn’t want you to die thinking I hated you.”

“Nah, I knew that was just tough-guy posturing. You learned it from me, remember?”

A watery smile broke out over her features.

“Ah, there we go, that’s what I want: You happy that I’m back.”

“I’m happy, Spike.” She hesitated, “but why are you back?”

“Long story, this bloke wanted to get back at Angel and…”

“No, no, I mean why are you here?”

“Now that we don’t know. See, Blue here and I were in the middle of fighting the good fight back in LA, and suddenly: poof! I’m in your living room, and Buffy’s gone to take another of my mates who was in the fight to get patched up and Blue and I were left here to amuse ourselves.”

“You fainted, Half-breed. I have finished with this disportment. It was pointless. Are there any more?”

If vampires could blush, Dawn would swear that Spike would have been crimson as he tried to nonchalantly saunter over to the cabinet and pluck out Mario Kart. “Try this on for size.”

Dawn held up a hand. “Ok, wait, who are you?”

Illyria graced her with a withering look before she turned back to the console to play the new game.

Spike shrugged at Dawn’s bewildered gaze. “That’s Illyria. She was a god. But not the kind who’s looking to hurt you, bit,” he said as she tensed and twitched her eyes over to the blue-haired woman again. “Blue’s sorta, well, not really tamed, but for some reason she likes hanging around me.”

“You do not annoy me as much as the others,” Illyria threw over her shoulder as her little go-kart raced over an icy terrain.

“Oooook.”

“Look, I don’t know much else, except that I’m damn lucky to be alive at the moment, so we’ve just been sitting tight till Big Sis gets back with Angel and news on Gunn.”

Shrugging, Dawn headed to the kitchen. “Whatever, sounds like the apocalypse is nigh again. I need a snack. Want a mini-pizza?”

His eyes lit up. “Pepperoni?”

“And sausage.”

“Nibblet, you know me too well.” He followed her over to the fridge. “Now tell me, who’s this Paolo fella that thinks he’s taking you dancing?”


“Bit, that pizza looks disgusting.” Spike observed as he burned his fingers on his own pizza, his third. After she’d gulped down the first normal one, she had started in on those ridiculous parings she’d been so fond of making in Sunnydale. He couldn’t help but stare in horror as she raised the peanut butter and anchovy topped snack to her mouth. Spike had seen some terrifying things in his day, but this actually might be the mother of them all.

“Mmph. No mit doesnmph.” Crumbles off the English-muffin crust sprayed from her lips as she defended her latest creation. “Anchovies are sooo good,” she said after she’d swallowed. “And the greasy-ness makes the peanut butter slip right off the roof of your mouth. This is my best one yet.”

Spike looked at her for a moment as though her head had transformed into a sardine before he shrugged and they resumed eating in companionable silence as the cheery music from Illyria’s game drifted into the kitchen. This was definitely something he missed back in LA, especially since Fred had gone. He really had no one to sit with any more, and it bugged him more than it probably should. Most of his existence, there was no just sitting with him. He couldn’t get enough of what life had to offer after Dru sired him, always dancing, fighting, feeding and fucking. And after that mob Prague, his time was spent crossing the globe trying to cure her sickness and cater to her whims. When Buffy flashed into his life, he’d started to slow down, granted because she had him paralyzed for a while. But later, once he started to realize what she really meant to him, he’d began to change. Grow up, sort of. He’d met the Summers women, and looking out for them and taking care of them seemed to come second nature to him. Didn’t know why, and didn’t really question it until that whole mess that constituted their relationship following Buffy’s resurrection after her leap from the tower. Made sense, though, since he’d spent most of his un-life taking care of the loony vampiric seer that had sired him, to have some sort of similar reaction to the next woman he found needed caring for. Okay, so maybe it didn’t make that much sense. Spike wasn’t usually one to stop and reason things out, anyways. Even when he was just sitting.

“So,” Dawn said, waving her anchovy-scented hand in front of his face, “was I right? Are we facing another Apocalypse Now?”

“Seems likely, Nibblet. See, the fight that we just got magically zapped out of, or whatever, was started ‘cause Peaches decided he was tired of bein’ a puppet for Wolfram and Hart. So he takes down a buncha bad-guy types—major players, mind you—and that made the Senior Partners none too happy…”

“Senior Partners?”

“The almighties in charge. I actually don’t know who or what they are, just that they’re sorta in charge of this large multi-dimensional law firm and the current apocalypse, so when Angel and the rest of us did what we did, well, they decided to rain a little of it down on us, all fire and brimstone-like. There was even a dragon.”

“Really?” Dawn asked, her eyes wide with wonder and a little excitement. Ok, dragons kinda freaked her out, but she hadn’t seen that sort of excitement since the Hellmouth collapsed…

“Sure. ‘Course, Peaches really wanted a chance at it, so I let him have it while I busied myself with these demons; they were big like trolls, but smarter and faster. Mighta been S’tharls, now that I think about it, but I thought those were extinct…”

“Spike, I’ve told you too many times not to tell my little sister battle stories. You’re only adding to her years in therapy.”

Looking over Dawn’s head, Spike could see her in the doorway of the kitchen. Classic Buffy, hands on her hips, cute top and jeans and boots that she could—and likely would—kick his ass with. She’d put on a few pounds, though he’d never tell her that, and it suited her. What was it Lawrence had said? Something about love and sex, the change it makes in a woman. “The woman more blooming, more subtly rounded, her young angularities softened.”

“Uh, thanks. I think.”

Shite. “I uh, hadn’t meant to say that aloud.”

Buffy nodded slowly. “I’ll just assume you were hit in the head multiple times before you got here and fainted.”

“It was D. H. Lawrence,” he grumbled.

“Spike fainted?” Dawn exclaimed at the same time, not remembering in her shock of seeing Spike alive—or not dead—or whatever it was that vampires were—that the scary blue gamer in the living room had said the same thing earlier. “And ‘thanks’ was good,” she nodded at her older sister. “It’s from Lady Chatterley’s Lover and it’s nice. Poetry.” She smiled up at Spike, who warmed momentarily.

“Who said you could read that?”

“I found it in your room.”

Spike arched a brow at that and addressed Dawn’s comments first. “Typically it’s called prose, luv.” He cast another glance to the Slayer in the doorway. “And last I knew you weren’t a big fan of literature.”

Blushing as she studied the tile floor, Buffy mumbled something under her breath. He was sure Dawn couldn’t hear it, but he certainly could, and Buffy knew it.

“Well, glad my poetry left you wanting a taste of something better. Good to know the shite was worth something.”

Buffy’s eyes shone as she held his gaze. “It was worth…it was worthy.”

After a moment, Dawn shifted awkwardly, rolling her eyes at the two blondes who currently were unable to tear their eyes away from each other. Well, that didn’t take long, did it? “So, um, much as I’m enjoying the emotionally-fraught starefest, I’m also kinda wondering what the game plan is? Do we suit up? Head to LA, fight the good fight, save the world again?”

Then it was all business. Spike could see the change come over her, muscles coiling, lips tightening around her teeth, that little tic in her jaw he was pretty sure was a new development after Sunnydale. It was quite the juxtaposition, those curves and that steely strength. There was a sharp shake of her head. “No, Dawn. We aren’t going to LA.” She placed a steadying hand on her sister’s shoulder, and though it only served to confuse Dawn, in that moment, he knew he still loved her. If there had been any doubt before, there was no denying it now. Not when he saw the whole of her, beauty and power and compassion together.

“Oh. Why? I could really use some excitement of the supernatural variety. C’mon, Buffy. Aren’t there people to save?”

“No. There really aren’t.”

*********