Chapter 12: As the Snow Starts to Fall

It took two days for the body to turn up.

With nothing else to do but sit at Willow’s bedside and worry, Tara diligently checked the police reports until she found a victim that matched the ritual killing described in Spike’s translation. Buffy and Giles visited both the morgue and the crime scene to look for clues to the evil mage’s identity, but their search was fruitless. They even pulled Emma away from her care of Willow in the hopes of detecting some sort of magical residue from the ritual, but she, too, found nothing.

Apparently, this warlock was very good at covering his tracks.

Buffy had been avoiding Spike ever since their kiss in his crypt. Her stomach fluttered with longing every time she thought about it, which quickly hardened into a painful fist, twisting in her belly. She felt guilty for not telling Jacob, and yet she also felt ashamed at how hurt she was by Spike’s suggestion that they pretend it never happened.

This state of confusion had her also steering clear of Jacob, for fear of what she would say to him, if she’d even be able to look him in the eye – so she was caught off guard when he showed up at the house as she was in the kitchen, cleaning up Dawn’s latest Christmas project.

“Been powdering your nose?” he asked playfully, wiping a white smudge off her nose.

“We were baking.”

“I can see that,” Jacob replied, surveying the countertops covered with cooling cookies.

“My mom used to make these great Christmas cookies every year – her special tradition, you know?” Buffy said, talking very fast. “And it just doesn’t feel like Christmas without them. It’s like – like, I don’t know, Halloween without pumpkins or something.” She realized she was guilt-rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Except you don’t eat the pumpkins. It’s – candy? Halloween without –”

“I get it,” Jacob said softly, quieting her with both hands on her shoulders.

“Anyway, Dawn and I decided to try it ourselves,” Buffy finished with a forced-casual shrug.

“How’d that go?”

“Pretty much like you’d expect. Tears, recriminations. Me threatening to shove Dawn in the oven, Dawn threatening to call Child Services…”

“But the cookies got baked?”

“Mostly. And we only dropped one tray.” Buffy gave a troubled look down at a spot on the kitchen floor. “Kinda wish we had a dog.”

Jacob tipped her chin back up so that she was looking at him. “Buffy, is everything okay?”

“Sure, fine. Everything’s fine. Why?”

“You seem… distracted.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy sighed. “It’s just… a girl turned up dead this morning, we think from that ritual we were trying to stop.” She let her tense muscles relax slightly as Jacob wrapped her into a sympathetic hug. That was one good thing about being the Slayer – at least if she was upset or worried about something she didn’t want to discuss, there was always some innocent victim on which to blame her erratic behavior.

“I’m sorry, babe. I know you were hoping to get rid of this guy before that happened.” He pulled back to meet her eyes. “Although, I have to admit, I’m a little bit relieved. When I didn’t hear from you for a couple days, I was worried that you were mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?” Buffy asked, with honest bewilderment.

“Because of what I said the other day, about Spike. I know there’s nothing going on between you two, I just… I was jealous, and it got the better of me.”

Buffy stiffened again, swallowing hard around the sudden lump in her throat. “N-no. Nothing – nothing to do with that. I just… got a little banged up fighting that demon the other night, and I needed some time to recuperate. That’s all.” She pressed a quick, firm kiss to Jacob’s mouth as if to prove her point.

Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good, because there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“What?” Buffy asked cautiously.

“My dad invited us over for dinner on Friday night, so I wanted to ask if you wanted to go.”

“Dinner? With your dad?” Buffy’s eyes widened. “Are we – are we at the parent-meeting stage already?”

Jacob smiled. “Don’t panic. It’s just ’cause it’s Christmas. I’m going out to Chicago for Christmas Eve, so Dad thought we could get together a little early.”

“A-and he wants me to come?”

“He said he wants to meet you.” He pulled her in for another kiss. “Really, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Buffy said hesitantly, feeling as though she owed him, and she ought to give him whatever he asked for. She forced a smile to her lips. “Dinner Friday sounds great.”

*****

Susan smiled as she opened her apartment door. “I should just stop worrying about you, shouldn’t I? Every time you disappear, I start thinking something’s happened, but there you are.”

Spike gave her a grim smile. “Got laid up for a couple days.” He tilted his head to one side, calling her attention to the angry red line across his pale throat, where the wound from his near-beheading hadn’t quite healed.

Susan gasped. “Spike – who – ?”

Before she could get any more out, Spike lifted his shirt to show her the similar gash across his midsection.

“Oh, my God, Spike.” She ghosted her hand over his stomach, lifting her head to meet his gaze with horrified eyes. “What – who did this to you?”

“Demon. No worries, pet. It’s dead now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve –”

“What? Come over to play nursemaid?” Spike shook his head. “Didn’t need that.”

Rather than allowing herself to be hurt by the brush off, Susan flashed him a flirtatious smile, sliding her hands back under his shirt, seductive but careful not to aggravate his injuries. “Well, you’re here now. Maybe we could play something else.” She winked at him.

Spike cleared his throat uncomfortably, catching Susan’s wrists and easing her hands away from his body. “Actually, love… the reason I came over is… well, because I – I needed to say… to tell you I can’t do this anymore.”

“Oh.” Susan stepped back, taking that in. “So, Buffy finally came to her senses?”

“No,” Spike said quietly. “I just… I love her, and I can’t…” He closed his eyes, holding in his emotions. “’S never gonna work, bein’ with somebody else.”

“It’s okay.” She nodded, having expected this day to come sooner or later. “I get it.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then brought his hands up and pulled her face toward his until their lips met in one last, lingering kiss.

“Thank you,” Spike said finally. “For everything.”

*****

“Hey, guys,” Buffy said in greeting as she walked into the Magic Box. Anya glanced over from the cash register, but went back to counting money once she realized it wasn’t a customer. Giles and Spike both looked up from their research, and Buffy quickly averted her gaze to avoid the vampire’s eyes. “Any, uh, any news?”

“Not yet, no,” Giles sighed. “I hope to decipher the specifics of the ritual shortly, to perhaps give us a clue as to where and how to stop it. Spike is researching the background, trying to determine what this series of rituals will ultimately accomplish.”

“Division of labor. Good.” She felt her throat starting to close up, her chest tightening at the mere presence of Spike, reminded once more of the embarrassment of his rejection.

“I have to – I’m gonna –” Unable to finish her sentence, she simply gestured toward the training room before fleeing in that direction. The door had barely closed behind her when she let out a single hiccupping sob. She shook her head with determination, drawing in a deep, calming breath.

It doesn’t matter. So he doesn’t want you – so what? You don’t want him anyway.

“I do,” she whispered aloud. “Oh, God, I do.”

A knock on the door startled her, and she shoved away from it, propelling herself across the room so that she was busily pounding the punching bag by the time the door swung slowly open.

“Buffy?” Spike said cautiously.

She ignored him, whaling on the bag with all her strength.

“I thought maybe we should… talk.”

“Nothing to talk about,” she replied between punches. Catching the swinging bag, she paused her assault and turned to face him. “It never happened, right?”

Spike hesitated for a moment, feeling the sting of his own words as they were thrown back in his face. “Yeah. Right. Never happened.”

Buffy nodded and turned back to the punching bag without a word.

“So, I guess that means you’re cross with me for some other reason, then,” Spike ventured.

“I’m not cross,” she said, though the violent kicks she delivered to the punching bag begged to differ. “I’m just not – ungh – very comfortable – ungh – being around you right now.” She paused again to catch her breath. “I wouldn’t want to risk that thing that never happened… not happening. Again.”

Spike sighed. “Buffy…”

“No.” The hurt was evident in her voice. “You made your position perfectly clear the other night. Please, just leave me alone.”

His brow furrowed, but before he could speak, Giles poked his head into the training room.

“Buffy? You should come out here. I think I’ve found something.”

Pushing past Spike without acknowledging him, Buffy headed back into the shop. “What is it, Giles?”

He looked at her with a grave expression. “I’ve translated the final ritual.”

“And?”

“It involves a death… and a resurrection.”

Buffy sat down abruptly, shock registering on her face. After a moment, she recovered and frowned. “Well, I’m definitely not gonna cooperate for that. Been there, done that, didn’t enjoy it much.”

“A human sacrifice is to be given to Osiris, the Egyptian god of death and resurrection. He or she is – will be… dismembered,” Giles explained, stumbling over the words in his revulsion at what he was saying. “In mimicry of Osiris’ own death, at the hands of his brother.”

“Okay, eww.”

“Believe it or not, that – that’s not the most troubling part. The ritual requires that the sacrifice be one who… has already died and been brought back to life.”

Buffy’s eyes grew wide. “Giles… that’s me. You’re talking about me!” She leapt up, snatching the dusty old text from his hands, staring at it as though it could give her answers, even though it was in hieroglyphics that she couldn’t read. “This guy’s gonna kill me?”

“No,” Spike stepped in, gently but firmly taking the book away from Buffy. “Not gonna let that happen. We’re going to stop this, Buffy.”

“How? We haven’t been able to stop anything else he’s done.”

“Well, there are some clues,” Giles offered. “For instance, the ritual requires a sacred space.”

“Like a church?” Buffy asked. “Or a pagan temple?”

“No… nothing that… structural. It’s simply a magical purification of a – a room or a building. There would be traces of the magic used to create such a place. I could have Emma –”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “’Cause no one else in Sunnydale practices magic.”

“Well, here is something quite specific,” Giles tried again. “The warlock would need an Osiris stone, and there are only so many places one can purchase one of those.”

“Uh-oh,” Anya said quietly, startling the others, as they’d forgotten she was there.

“What-oh, Anya?” Buffy asked, her tone suspicious.

“Well, one of those places – where you can buy an Osiris stone? Is here.”

Faster than they’d ever seen him move, Giles was across the room and gripping the counter separating him from Anya. “Have you sold one recently?”

“Maybe a month ago? To a man in a business suit, your age.” She shrugged. “He seemed nice enough. He socialized with Willow.”

Now Buffy and Spike were crowded around Anya as well, and Buffy had to resist the urge to shake the information out of the ex-demon. “Did Willow know him?” she demanded. “Do you know his name?”

Anya shook her head, shrinking away from the forceful Slayer. “No – no, she just met him. I think he only gave us a first name… I could check the receipts. Maybe he paid by credit card.”

Fortunately, it was enough for Buffy to back off slightly. “Okay. You do that. Who else was here that day? I’ll see if they remember anything.”

“Xander… Willow. Dawn. You and Tara were in the back, I think.”

“Good. Giles?” When the Watcher looked up, she asked, “You’ll keep working?” He nodded.

Buffy started to hurry toward the door when Spike’s voice stopped her.

“Buffy? What do you want me to do?” The expression on his face indicated that he wanted to go with her, but she couldn’t deal with that right now. “Help Giles.”

*****

“You sure it’s safe to be out here alone?” Buffy heard the voice ask from behind her as she crossed the cemetery. “What with someone tryin’ to kill you an’ all.”

“I can handle myself,” she replied coolly, turning to face him. “What do you want, Spike?”

“Thought if you were patrolling, I could help.”

“You wanna help? Go back to the Magic Box and figure out how I can not die again.”

“No luck with the Scoobies?” Spike asked, ignoring her harsh tone and tagging along as she started walking again.

Buffy shook her head. “Dawn and Xander figured out it was the same day Giles came back with all this research, after his friend got murdered. And it was the day you got kidnapped. But nothing useful.”

“Anya couldn’t find anything, either. Guess the bloke paid in cash.”

“Will gave me a first name – David. That’s all she could remember, but that doesn’t really narrow it down very much.”

“Well, you figure eventually he’s gotta show himself, right? I mean, he can’t very well dismember you without –”

“Stop. Just stop, okay?” Buffy interrupted, holding up her hand. “Don’t try to be comforting.”

“Right, so you won’t have to pretend that never happened either?”

“No, because you’re incredibly bad at it! I mean, God! You’re talking about dismemberment –” Midsentence, she whirled around to face him. “And for the record, you were the one who wanted to pretend it never happened.”

Spike blinked in surprise. “What? I –”

“You didn’t want me!”

His jaw dropped at her declaration, and he didn’t miss the waver in her voice. Ashamed of revealing her vulnerability, Buffy tried to walk away from him, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in close.

“Buffy, listen to me. I will always want you. I love you more than anything.”

Her brow creased, her stubborn certainty faltering. “Then, why…?”

“Said what I did ’cause I thought it was what you wanted to hear. Thought you wanted to forget about it and go back to your boyfriend.”

Buffy dropped her gaze to the ground. “I thought you… that I wasn’t… good enough.”

Spike’s heart broke at her dismayed tone. Cupping her face in his hands, he turned her head up to look at him. A thousand lines of poetry ran through his mind, to tell her how perfect she was, but in the end he just pulled her into an earnest, passionate kiss, the one argument she could not refute.

Her mouth parted for him eagerly, and Spike could taste her relief as he persuaded her with lips and tongue that he could never find her lacking. An errant tear spilled from her brimming eyelid, and Spike quickly kissed it off her cheek. He continued along its chosen path, down to her jaw and then her throat, leaving a line of kisses as he went.

Buffy’s fingers threaded through his hair, pulling his carefully gelled curls out of their hardened shell. She tugged his head back up so that she could kiss him again, her mouth desperately seeking his. Her entire body pulsed with desire, and her hands skated downward, scrabbling at his clothes, trying to touch his skin.

Spike turned his attention back to her neck, where he nibbled with blunt teeth and sucked hard enough to leave a mark. Buffy mewled, arching into him, feeling his erection pressed against her lower belly. She reached down, sliding her palm experimentally over the hard bulge of his jeans, causing Spike to emit a groan.

Her warm hand encasing his cock was too much for him, and Spike pushed Buffy back against a tall monument, fumbling one-handed with the buttons of his fly. Desperate to get their clothes off and trying to do too many things at once, he left his fly half-open and lifted Buffy’s legs to wrap around his waist, shoving her shirt up so that he could take one of her nipples in his mouth.

As the stone scraped against her bare back, Buffy suddenly felt a prickling sensation that had nothing to do with what Spike was doing to her. “Stop,” she said, breathless and urgent, as he was tugging at her pants. “Spike, please… stop. Put me down.”

Stilling his hands, he raised his head from her breast, confusion and disappointment evident on his face. “Yeah… all right, pet,” Spike said with resignation, gently easing her down so her feet were touching the ground again.

“I need a stake,” she said briskly, as she straightened her clothes.

“You – what?”

She was probably a terrible person for finding his horror-struck expression amusing, but she couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “Not for you. For the vampire that just rose over by the mausoleum.”

“Oh.” Relieved, he dug through his duster pockets until he came up with one and handed it to her.

“Won’t be long.”

When she returned a few minutes later, Spike was leaning against the gravestone with his head tilted back, his pants still undone and his hair tousled. A curl of smoke rose from the cigarette in his hand, dangling casually at his side. His eyes were closed, but a small smile crept across his face, and she knew he’d sensed her coming.

Probably smelled the big honkin’ cloud of lust, she thought, as his sexy pose and rumpled “fuck me” look sent another bolt of heat through her. But the interruption had given her desperate desire a chance to cool, and she was far more in control of herself than she had been. She realized the depth of what they’d been about to do, and she knew she wasn’t ready for it.

When she gently placed a hand on his chest, he opened his eyes and his smile broadened into a seductive grin. He tossed his cigarette aside and moved to pull her into his arms, picking up where they’d left off.

“I can’t,” she said softly, putting her hands on his arms to hold him back. “I… this is – too fast. I just…” She shook her head, biting her lip when no words would come.

“It’s all right,” Spike said, but he didn’t try to hide his disappointment, dropping his head and slumping against the stone. She surprised him by leaning in for another kiss, salty and wet.

“I just need… time, okay?” As easily as she seemed to forget it, she did still have a boyfriend, and things with Spike were spiraling far too quickly out of control for her to process.

“Whatever you want, love,” Spike murmured, running a hand through her hair. “If it helps, I – I ended it with Susan.”

“Oh.” So, she was the only cheater in the cemetery tonight. Not actually all that helpful, as it happened. “Listen, I should go… I need to – to sort things out. We’ll talk about this,” she promised, giving him one last brief kiss. “Soon.”