[A/N: I have no interest/will/ambition to write anything at all lately. Developments have completely sapped my creativity and my desire to write. I have nothing left at all. I’m sorry. . . I will complete these stories, I just don’t quite know when. I’m so sorry. My thanks, as always to Tam, without her there’d be nothing at all. She’s my inspiration. Title and quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect. I own nothing.]

Previously: Willow saw Oz and Tara in the quad at UC Sunnydale; Tara has told Oz about their news but they have yet to confide in anyone else; Riley isn’t as stupid as everyone thinks and he suspects that somehow Spike has fathered Buffy’s babies; the Council, with the new Slayer, are about to arrive in Sunnydale. This picks up shortly after the last chapter.

Book Three

Chapter Ten For the sake of knowing

What we learn for the sake of knowing, we hold;
what we learn for the sake of accomplishing some ulterior end,
we forget as soon as that end has been gained.
Anna C. Brackett, The Technique of Rest

O, what men dare do!
What men may do!
What men daily do,
not knowing what they do!
Much Ado About Nothing, act iv, sc i


Jealousy feeds upon suspicion,
and it turns into fury or it ends as soon
as we pass from suspicion to certainty.
Francois de La Rochefoucauld

It's not an accident.
Not an accident.
Never underestimate your opponent.
They'll tell you that if you're a fighter. Never underestimate.
Al Lewis




Graham Miller watched his friend and fellow Initiative officer pace through the living room of the house they’d secured as an operations base. Surveillance reports were sketchy, with each of the teams reporting in at different times. They were waiting on Sloth to report in from his location atop the building opposite the Magic Box. So far, none of the reports were good. Team one – consisting of Rivera and Lowenstein, had tracked the vampire the night before, noting his patrol route and the fact he’d had a teenaged boy with him. The boy had been sent home at approximately twenty-three hundred hours to an unknown destination. At oh-one hundred hours the vampire had returned to Revello Drive and had gone inside, after confronting a red-headed female.

Correctly identifying the female from pictures, Riley had wondered why Willow hadn’t gone inside with Spike, though he said nothing to his men. There were already enough questions from them. His knowledge of the area and target had drawn pointed looks and quiet conversations already. Any more revelations and he was sure they were going to question the entire mission. And he couldn’t have that.

They were here to take down Spike. Nothing more.

If his conscience nagged at him about leaving Buffy alone without any back-up or support, he refused to give in. Spike was a vampire, a demon, and no matter what he did, he was always going to be a vampire. Nothing he did to help Buffy mitigated that. Vampires needed to be staked.

He still couldn’t believe she’d asked to have the behavioral control chip removed. There was no way she wanted Spike free to prey on the population of Sunnydale. She was only going to have to stake him when he starting draining victims again. He could spare her that . . . he wouldn’t call it heartache, because to call it that meant there was something between Buffy and Spike. And Riley couldn’t. . .

There wasn’t anything between them. Buffy was in a relationship with the English guy, the one he didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. Tall, dark, and accented. It was easier to fool himself into believing that Buffy had fallen for someone like that, instead of her having a relationship with Spike. Even knowing she’d once been in love with a vampire.

That little revelation had fueled his jealousy unlike anything else. He hadn’t been able to fool himself after that. Especially with Spike feeling the way he did. Spike had never really come out and said the words – that he wanted more from Buffy than just friendship – but Riley hadn’t needed to hear them to know they existed. Before he’d fled Sunnydale with his pride in his back pocket, Riley had known. Had seen Spike watching Buffy, took note of his eyes following her when he thought no one was looking, saw the flare of arousal and need in the vampire’s eyes.

No.

Buffy was not involved with Spike. He couldn’t accept it, even in theory.

Riley whirled to face Graham as Sloth’s voice sounded over the radio. "Target sighted. Young, dark, tall English has entered shop. Subject is currently alone."

Graham raised an eyebrow, his expression otherwise impassive. "Maintain surveillance."

"Roger, that."

Communication ceased and the two officers faced each other across the room. "You’re going to have to make a decision."

"Understood." Riley paced the floor one more time, then said without looking at his counterpart, "I’m going out."

"You should take one of the men."

"No, I want to see some of the others, see what Xander and Willow have to say. It’s better if I go alone."

He was gone before Graham could talk him out of it.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“They’re only sending four?” Buffy stared at Spike, her eyes sparkling with suppressed mischief. “Really?”

“Tha’s what Oxford has to say.” He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for the explosion which was certainly about to erupt.

“Only four.” Her expression darkened for a moment and Buffy glanced over at Grace, who was watching their by-play with wide eyes. “I think I’m insulted.”

Spike’s chuckle did nothing to ease the pout plumping Buffy’s lips. “Would imagine they think you’re an easy mark.”

“I’m not easy. I’m so . . . you’re smirking. Stop it.” She glared at him, which was softened somewhat by the pout she was still sporting. Her hands fisted at her sides. “Really, Spike. It’s not funny.”

His chuckle had escalated to out-right laughter as she looked more and more like a five year old. “Jus’ . . . pet, have you got any idea how bloody adorable you are?” He moved further into the living room, stopping just in front of the couch. “Anyone else’d be shakin’ an’ scared, but not you.” When she started to speak, he shushed her with an outstretched finger. “Not sayin’ you aren’t a bit put out, but, kitten, you’re brassed b’cause they’re only sending four men after you.” He shook his head, amusement playing about his lips. “Is a bit cock-eyed if you ask me.”

The pout only got more pronounced and it took Spike crouching down in front of her, his hands wrapped around her fists, before Buffy would relent. “They’re underestimatin’ you. An’ me. Not to mention the rest. Gives us an advantage, sunshine.”

It took a long minute of his thumbs brushing over her tightly clenched hands and her eyes staring into his, before she was finally placated. Her look turned assessing, and she scrunched her face, the wheels obviously turning furiously inside her head. Spike could always tell when something was going on, because she got that same look every time she was concentrating.

“So we have time, right?”

“Think so, kitten.” He stood up, knowing she wanted to get to her feet. “Give ‘em a day to get settled, an’ then they’ll come looking. Remember, they haven’t a clue that we know they’re comin’.”

A smile bloomed on her face, one Spike had seen in the past, usually just prior to her handing him a colossal beat-down. General Buffy with a plan was back. “Okay, then.”

Before Spike could ask her, Grace interjected. “Are you ready to start? Or should we postpone this and wait until the crisis is over?”

Buffy shifted her gaze between Spike and Grace, her expression for once unreadable. She pursed her lips, squared her shoulders and said in her best I’m-so-in-charge voice, “Nope, we’re not waiting. These babies aren’t waiting for anyone else. This is way more important than Riley. Or the Council.”

Spike’s eyebrows rose in amusement. He waited a bit, anticipating some further comment from Buffy, and she didn’t disappoint him. Putting on an almost too cheery smile, she chirped at Grace, “So, let’s get started.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



“Willow?”

Wesley stared at the redhead, confusion and worry writ large across his features. He hadn’t seen her in months, not since just following the battle against Angel. Her presence now boded no good news.

Willow looked no less uncomfortable than he felt. Grief, confusion and fear had driven her to the Magic Box – one of the few places she still felt safe – hoping for some answers. She hadn’t known Wesley would be the only one present, Willow had hoped Giles would be in the shop.

“I didn’t. . . I’m sorry. I just didn’t know where else and Spike wouldn’t let me talk to Buffy and then I figured Tara would listen but Tara’s with Oz, and. . . “ Her voice faded as tears clogged her throat.

Wesley got the distinct impression she’d still be talking if she hadn’t mentioned her former paramours. However, his curiosity was piqued. “Perhaps you should slow down.”

She lifted teary eyes to his. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know where else to go or who to talk to. I thought maybe Giles would be here and he’d listen to me when no one else . . . “ Her words trailed off again and Willow looked away, artlessly wiping her nose and tear streaked face on the sleeve of her sweater.

Before he could stop her, Willow moved toward the door, shoulders slumped, still sniffling through her nose.

“Wait.” Wesley took two steps forward, his hand reaching for her. “I’ll listen.”

At her look, Wesley clarified. “I can’t promise anything. You must know your prior actions have created enough doubt as to your intentions.”

“I get that.” She hesitated, admitting quietly, “It’s all my fault.”

He contemplated her for a long moment, watching her bowed head and dejected air. Wesley didn’t fool himself for one moment into believing that Willow’s actions were truly motivated by an attack of conscience. For one thing, he wasn’t sure she possessed the necessary moral center, and for another, her actions reeked of self-service. Still, he thought her information could prove useful.

“Come sit down, Willow.” Wesley ushered her back to the research table. “Perhaps it would be best if you just stuck to the facts for now.”

She didn’t waste any time, somehow understanding that playing on Wesley’s sympathy wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Warren – he’s the guy who built the Buffybot – he’s been spying on everyone. He put cameras here and at Buffy’s house.”

“Go on.”

“He’s been sending the information to the Council. There are cameras set up all over town, not just . . . some are at different spots, like Willy’s bar and,” When he nodded for her to continue, Willow dropped the real news.

“There’s a camera watching the Hellmouth.” Willow reached into her backpack and withdrew a sheaf of papers. “I think he’s planning something.”

Wesley took the proffered papers, his eyes scanning through them quickly. Most were charts, tracking changes around the Hellmouth, though there were others just as disturbing. “He’s tracking everyone’s movements?”

Though it was phrased as a question, both of them were aware it really wasn’t. Putting aside the papers on each of them, Wesley read through the Hellmouth charts again. “These readings aren’t all from video surveillance.”

“No. He’s got seismographs, infrared cameras, audio recorders and, well,” Willow pointed to one particular readout. “I don’t know what this tracks, but my guess is it’s something demonic.”

The former Watcher looked up, fixing Willow with flinty blue eyes. “Why are you bringing this to us?” Unspoken, but very clear in his tone of voice was censure and a demand to know why it had taken her so long.

“He didn’t trust me. I only found out about all the cameras earlier this week. I wanted to get some proof, so it wouldn’t . . .” She sucked in a deep breath, her shadowed eyes pleading with him. “I wanted to help. I need to help.”

“Why do you need to help, Willow?” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his eyes unwavering.

“I know you don’t trust me. No one does.” She mimicked his pose, her gaze not flinching from his. “I can’t make up for everything I did. I know that. This isn’t about making everything better. I just thought you should all know. Someone should know what he’s doing. I don’t want the Hellmouth opened.”

“Past actions speak differently than what you’re saying now, Willow.” Wesley got to his feet, gathering up the paperwork. “Thank you for bringing this. I’ll make sure everyone’s aware of this Warren fellow’s actions.”

It was very clearly a dismissal, leaving Willow no other option but to go. She couldn’t broach the subject most on her mind, didn’t dare ask for such information from Wesley. She turned just as she opened the door, to look at Wesley one more time. “Could you tell. . . “ The sudden chill in his eyes stilled her wayward tongue. “Never mind. Thanks for listening.”

Wesley stared at the closed door, his mind whirling with all that Willow had just told him. It wasn’t much in the way of real information, but added to other events, he knew this was enough to alert everyone.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Suburbia wasn’t supposed to be bustling with activity, not with the start of summer, and especially not during the week. It should be slow, isolated pockets of activity and teenagers just hanging about, no real destination in mind. And that would have been the case, if it was anywhere but Sunnydale. Riley walked through the crowded downtown streets, sidestepping all kinds of people, his mind idly noting the conversations floating around him.

He refused to dwell on what was going on with Buffy until he had more information, until he knew for certain the situation she was in, and who she was involved with. Intuition told him that she and Spike were together, but before he accused her, he needed proof. Looking up and realizing his location, Riley shook his head and turned around, moving away from Revello Drive. The last thing he wanted at this moment was to come face to face with either of them. He wanted time to gather the information and process it.

Ten minutes later, Riley found himself outside Sunnydale General, watching as some guy loaded up a car. The man stood and Riley realized it was Xander a half-second before the other man recognized him.

“Xander!”

“Riley? Hey, how are you? What are you doing in Sunnydale?” Xander straightened up from the opened trunk, reaching out to shake Riley’s hand.

“Just got in yesterday. I, ah, got your letter.”

“Letter?” Xander looked confused for a moment, then as the memory of writing to Riley months earlier resurfaced, he shook his head. “Man, that was almost a year ago. Lot’s changed since then.”

Deciding quickly to play dumb, Riley asked what he thought might be the next logical question. “How is everyone? Are Joyce and Dawn okay?”

“Riley, Joyce died.”

He hadn’t known that. The letter Xander had sent only mentioned Buffy, not anyone else. “What happened?”

“Brain aneurysm. She died a little while after you left.” Xander looked away, his expression hidden.

“I didn’t know. Wow.” That news had caught him unaware and he was genuinely stricken. “She was a good person.”

“She was.” An awkward silence filled the air between them and Xander closed the trunk, eager to get the rest of Cordelia’s things. “Have you been by the house yet?”

“No, I haven’t.” Riley convinced himself he wasn’t lying, because he hadn’t been at the house, not really. Not openly.

“Oh.” Xander paused for a moment, wondering how much he could say. Or should say. “Are you going to stop by?”

“I was on my way there. I was just, sort of getting my courage together.”

Xander stared at him for a moment, then blurted out, “Buffy’s not dead. Willow worked a spell and brought her back.”

“What? Willow did what?” Riley didn’t know how well or for how long he could keep faking his ignorance, but if playing stupid could get Xander to give him some more information, he’d try as long as possible. “How did she do that?”

“I don’t know all of it, but she used Dawn and Tara to open up a portal or something and pulled Buffy out of heaven.” When Riley didn’t speak, Xander kept going. “Spike was already living in the house and, well, a whole lot of other things went down, then Angel lost his soul and came after all of us.”

“How did that happen?” Riley abruptly realized that deciding to look for Xander had been one of his best ideas, and the information was worth it. “What happened then?”

“Angel attacked Dawn and killed her boyfriend right after Christmas. He’d already kidnapped Cordy.” Xander walked away, heading toward the hospital. “She’s only getting out of the hospital now.”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry.” Riley didn’t really know who Xander was talking about, but by the sound of his voice, she meant something to him.

“Thanks.”

Riley stared at Xander for a moment, noting the slump of his shoulders and the grim lines etched on his face. For once, he was moved to sympathy. “Who is Cordy?”

A wry, sad smile twisted Xander’s lips and he ducked his head. “She was my first girlfriend.” Xander gestured to the hospital door and said, “I’ve got to get inside, she’s probably ready to leave. I’m taking her to Los Angeles.”

“Oh, okay. Are you coming back?” Riley thought frantically for a moment, trying to come up with something else that might keep Xander talking, even for just another few minutes.

“I dunno, man. I keep thinking that maybe it’s time to get out of this place. Start over somewhere else.” He shrugged, looking away. “Buffy doesn’t need my help. She’s got Spike.”

Here was the opening Riley was hoping for. “Spike?”

“Yeah. The bleached wonder does most of the patrolling, and he’s been helping for a while. He dusted Angel.”

“Angel’s dead?”

“Yup. Ripped his head clean off.” It was clear that information pleased Xander, and for the first time since he’d run across him, Riley could see the smile reach his eyes. “Oh, yeah. I’m just really sorry I was the unconscious guy that time.”

“So why is Spike patrolling?” Riley gave up any pretense, asking outright one of the things he wanted to know.

“Riley, you should just go by the house. Talk to Buffy. It’s not my . . . “ Xander shook his head, then motioned toward the hospital. “I gotta go. Take care of yourself.”

He was gone in the next moment, disappearing inside the hospital. Riley thought about following him, then dismissed that idea. Though he didn’t want to, he was beginning to think that in order to get the whole story, he was going to have to ask Buffy for the truth.

Riley just wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



“Let me guess. Council?”

Anya stood in the doorway, guilelessly eyeing the telephone still in Rupert’s hand.

He jumped a bit at her voice, then placed the receiver back. “Yes, dear.” He took off his glasses, rubbing his fingers over the bridge of his nose. “Actually, that wasn’t an official phone call. One of Wesley’s contacts, informing me that Travers is coming, along with the rest of the team he’s assembled.”

Anya moved gracefully into the room, her hands resting on his shoulders as she stopped behind him. She began kneading his tense muscles and Giles leaned back, resting his head against her silk-clad breasts. “So when are they arriving?”

“More than likely they’ll arrive sometime this afternoon. The plane had just taken off.” He murmured his approval when her fingers found and massaged a particularly tight spot.

“So we have some time.” Her voice sounded right beside his ear, and he smiled when her teeth nipped at his neck. “Wesley’s at the shop.”

“He is.” Anya slid one hand down his chest inside his tee-shirt. Her talented fingers found a flat nipple and his grin widened. Giles turned his head, his teeth closing around her earlobe. “We have time.”

“Time is good. Whatever shall we do to fill it?”

He couldn’t help himself. The coquette routine got him every time and Anya knew it. Giles erupted into deep chuckles as his hand drifted up her arm. He pulled her around, toppling her fall gracefully into his lap. Her legs trapped his arm momentarily against the chair, and one of her breasts escaped the confines of her almost indecent nightgown, drawing his considerable attention.

“I shall endeavor to keep your time filled, madam.” His finger traced the line of her hip, snaking beneath the silk. Giles wormed his hand free and Anya squirmed on his lap, her legs falling open.

Her hands as busy as his. “What’re you going to fill my. . . time . . . with?”

He laughed again, throwing his head back. “Oh dear, have you picked up yet another euphemism?”

She purred into his skin, hiding her own amusement. “You know I love it when you use big words.”

“Hhhmmmm.” Rupert stared down at her, splayed across his lap, affection and amusement making his eyes twinkle dangerously. “Shall I also use Latin? Or perhaps Sumerian?”

Catching the gleam and more than a little turned on by it, Anya wriggled again. He was hard and pulsing beneath her ass and she wanted him. Now. “Rupert. . . you’re teasing me again.”

“I know, dear.” His tone of voice indicated that he was especially enjoying her reaction.

He began speaking in Latin, telling her how creamy her skin was, how soft and sinful she looked while Anya curled her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Rupert, please. . . take me now.”

He lifted her up, pushed the chair away from the table and braced his feet on the floor. Their mouths met in a heated kiss as Anya’s hands worked on loosening his jeans, her fingers scrabbling on the button and zipper. He lifted her again propping her on the edge of the table. Her legs spread and Rupert slipped two fingers easily inside her heated core. Somehow she managed to get his pants undone and he let them fall, stepping out of them and kicking them aside.

“Come here, my dear.” Rupert sat back down in the chair, pulling her toward him. He twirled her around, one hand sliding up the front of her silky thigh, honing in on her clit. Anya tried to turn, but his hands held her facing away from him as he lowered her easily onto his lap. “Steady, girl. Just let me guide you.”

He slowly lowered her onto his shaft, lifting her legs over the arms of the chair. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

Anya shuddered, knowing this position would prolong her orgasm. She gasped and mewled softly when his hands cupped her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples. His hips surged once, then his mouth found the back of her neck, nibbling on the corded muscles. “I’m completely at your mercy, my dear. You control everything.”

It was frustrating, maddening. Her position allowed for no clitoral contact, and Anya writhed, seeking something more. “Rupert. . . “

“Is there something you need?” His kisses began trailing across her shoulders, his fingers focused on her nipples. “Hhmmm?”

“Rupert, if you don’t touch my clitoris, next time you won’t be allowed to.” When he hesitated, she glanced over her shoulder at him, frustration swirling in her eyes. “And there won’t be any oral gratification for a week.”

He buried his head in the middle of her shoulders, his entire body shuddering as he tried to repress the laughter threatening his composure. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

“You’re laughing at me. This is not funny, Rupert, I’m very frustrated. I need more stimulation.” Anya ground down. One of her hands grabbed his, trying to force the contact she craved.

The laugh he was trying to suppress escaped him and he collapsed against her, his fingers finding her clit. “Good god, woman, I do love you.”

Her movements stilled and her breath caught in her throat. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” It was true, Rupert realized; had been true for quite some time, long before her relationship with Xander had ended. She enthralled him, kept him guessing, constantly surprising him with her spontaneity and her enthusiasm for life. He hadn’t felt this alive. . . in a very, very long time. Not even Jenny had made him feel this way.

With his declaration, Anya squeezed internally, her entire body shaking with emotion. “Oh, Rupert, I love you too.”

She collapsed against him, her entire body limp. Rupert held her close, then lifted her away. “Come back to bed with me, dear.”

Anya smiled at him, her eyes filled with love and devotion. “I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“I’m counting on that.”

Rupert swept her up into his arms, moving up the stairs easily.







My thanks to everyone that has taken the time to leave a review -- and my thanks to the judges over at Fang Fetish, who selected the Originsverse as "Best Series". Thanks to all of you! It very much helped.