The meeting broke up for an hour when Anjell quietly rose and headed for the door. Spike made as if to follow but a small headshake from the General let him know that he wanted time alone.

A quiet resolve settled over the remaining occupants of the room. Having discovered a common goal, the group, while still wary, were less inclined to go for each other’s throats. There was an air of determination, almost optimism; the enemy had been identified and now they had to work together to beat it down. Riley was a glaring exception - deeply unhappy with the détente, he stood with teeth clenched and hand twitching over an empty holster. Catching Spike’s eye, he tried not to flinch as the white haired warrior grinned and touched his tongue to a bared fang meaningfully. ‘I’ve got my weapon here.’

Spike hadn’t forgotten - or forgiven - the Captain’s indifference to the fate of his girls and silently vowed that there would be a bloody reckoning before long.

Turning his back on the soldier, he scanned the room. Buffy was seated next to Willow by the large screen, the redhead flicking deft fingers over the control panel, calling up fleeting images on-screen, twirling diagrams showing the damaged stations, black patched where space had come crawling in. Whispering in a conspiratorial way - the young women clearly didn’t want to be overheard - Buffy giggled, and Spike narrowed his eyes. When she glanced up and found herself being watched she blushed sharply, ducking her head. Willow looked too and smothered a squeak. Both hid their faces.

Amused, Spike crept up on the duo before placing his hands on the blonde’s shoulders, making her jump.

“Talking about me?”

Trying to calm her racing heart, Buffy tried to sound indifferent.

“As if.” Then more forcefully, “And don’t sneak up like that!”

“Not sneaking,” he leaned down to nuzzle her hair, “stalking... different thing entirely.”

“That’s even worse,” she huffed, but held still as his hands drifted up to either side of her neck, letting her locks flow through his fingers.

Pleased when her eyes lost focus, he whispered in her ear, “Maybe you could take a little time to take care of my injuries. Rub a little lotion where it hurts the most. And then maybe I could attend to you too? I bet you have aching places that could do with a bit of rubbing and soothing.”

With a strangled gasp, Buffy leapt up out of his clutches. Not looking back, legs unsteady, she weaved her way to the coffee.

It was Willow who drew his eyes away from Buffy’s retreating and very biteable bottom.

“That was mean, Spike.”

Not bothering to hide his smirk, he replied, “I know.”

***

When Buffy dared to look again, she caught an eyeful of Spike. He was leaning back against the wall, stripped to the waist, battered military jacket trailing from a hooked finger as Tarah patiently smoothed one of her home-made concoctions over the angry marks on his chest.

She felt a pang of guilt at the sight of his injuries, cursing herself for not having the courage to snatch the ointment from Tarah and apply it herself. Spike had one knee bent, boot against the wall, the other foot forward on the floor, bracing him. His black leather trousers stretched and creased intriguingly along hard thighs. God, what a poser! Oh, but such gorgeous defined muscles, such round strong arms ‘the better to crush you with, my dear’.

Surprisingly, his nipple ring was still intact, glinting with lotion. She winced at the thought that Giles could have ripped it away under interrogation. His bracelet too, a loose manacle in grey and garnet, decorated him like some exotic prince…or perhaps a well-oiled slave. Vivid blue eyes blinked as slowly as a pampered cat, languorously receiving a stroking. Tarah gave him a swat on his chest making him start, bringing him back from his daydream.

He looked straight at Buffy and winked.

‘Cocky bastard.’

***

Giles felt a small tug on his arm as Willow tried to get his attention. Stooping down a little to catch her hesitant words, his eyes widened a little before he stood up straight. With a casual hand on her shoulder he led her out of the room, the small Captain - Oss? - followed at a respectful distance; trust only extended so far then, but he made no attempt to follow them into Giles’ private quarters.

Swiftly opening his encrypted comnet link to Rayne, he was relieved when the Ambassador’s image flickered onto his private screen. Ethan looked immensely tired, his usual dapper outfit rumpled as if he’d slept in it. A row of coffee cups obscured his slim wrists, but not enough to hide a slight palsy.

“At last,” the Ambassador sighed and gave Giles a rueful smile,
“Well, Obi-wan, looks like you’re our only hope.”

Snorting at the reference Giles mirrored his expression, “Well, if that’s the case then we really are screwed.”

As the two veterans exchanged information, Giles learned what he could. Apart from the station decimated by Anjell’s relatives, and the two that had simply exploded, a fourth station had also sent out a weak distress signal before contact ceased. Even the service bots’ cameras were inaccessible, hinting at sabotage. This was serious news; the Aurelians were not known to be capable of much technical know-how, but then they’d never appeared on board a ship before either.

Rayne had sent out cruisers to the troubled Watcher 22 but, as it was orbiting a small moon above Aurelia, it was going to take a couple of days to reach. The defence shields thrown up by the planet were known to affect their moons too, so space jumping would still leave them some distance away.

At this point Giles coaxed his young companion to stand where Rayne could see her. “Tell the Ambassador what you told me, Willow.”

The girl blushed, thrilled to be talking to Earth’s highest emissary, she hesitated but, before long, was launching into her theory. “Um, well I tried to find common factors between the three stations, something that could explain why they were selected in particular. After all”, she gave a nervous laugh, “if I had to choose I would have put your own ship on the top of my list.” Rayne gave a little chuckle at this but looked uneasy. Willow continued, “They’re not in the same sector, or all planet adjacent or of the same age, but they do have one thing in common,” she paused, waiting for the Ambassador's encouraging nod before carrying on, “they all had a large Agripod attached. I believe that we have inadvertently created a doorway for the enemy to enter.”

At the blank look she received from the man on-screen she tried to explain. “Just as we discovered that we could travel incredible distances by entering wormholes or tunnels through the fabric of space, I think that the Aurelians travel between worlds, or from place to place on a planet’s surface, using the same network; one that connects living planets to each other. Back on Earth a few crackpots used to claim that the Earth was covered in so-called energy or Ley lines, and that prehistoric cultures had known about them, placing stones at points where their influence was strongest. Perhaps they had knowledge of this network.”

Rayne leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest. “Go on, Willow, but can you explain why we haven’t gone crashing into planets while travelling along this energy superhighway?”

“I’m not sure,” the girl admitted, "but what if the universe is webbed by invisible arteries, some old and empty of lifeblood, yet functioning well enough for a ship to enter and leave for part of the way, and others, the ones the Aurelians use, alive and pulsing still. What if a connection with the life of a planet is required? And I do mean that literally. Ambassador, does Watcher 22 have an Agripod?”

“Why, yes, it does.”

“An Agripod contains tons of living soil, rocks and minerals transported from the planet’s surface. Thousands of plants, dozens of trees, a breathable, self-sustaining climate in microform - perhaps just large enough to be admitted into the body of the Universe.”

Both men looked stunned as the implications of this hit them. However bizarre, Willow’s explanation had the ring of truth about it.

Rayne rubbed his eyes tiredly, “What can we do?”

“Sir, I suggest you contact every remaining station with an Agripod and have them guard that area at all times, or be prepared to destroy them ourselves and be safe from attack.”

“But if we do that we’ll soon starve.”

Giles cut in. “Rayne, I’m taking a leap of faith here, but I believe that Anjell has had no part in this - perhaps he will let us ferry extra provisions from here or allow the proposed immigration process to be stepped up.”

“Do that, Giles, but don’t tell him the real reason. If he hasn’t worked out why we’re vulnerable then there’s no need to put ideas into his head.”

“Agreed.”

“By the way, we have a long-lost friend back in our neck of the woods, offering assistance.”

“Who?”

“The very Reverend Caleb has reappeared on the good ship Resurrection. Apparently he’s bringing us salvation.”

“But that’s impossible! He and his followers vanished years ago.”

“Well, now they’re back.”

“And how did he know we’d be needing help?”

“That’s a very good question.”

***

Buffy woke up from her nap in the sleeping quarters. Anjell and Giles had gone off to talk in private and the others - including Willow, Tarah and Dorn - had all drifted off to get some proper food. Forgoing nourishment for some quality time with a pillow and blankets, the rather confused girl had found an empty bed in the women’s block and flopped down onto it. A small part of her had hoped that Spike would seek her out and that she’d find him nestled next to her, but she was definitely alone now. Funny, she’d dreamt that he’d been right by her side, stroking her hand, murmuring sweet, sad things in her ear. Saying goodbye.

With a sudden panicky feeling, Buffy jolted out of bed and headed for a quick shower and change of clothes. She had a husband to find, and why didn’t that thought bother her more?

Still twisting her hair into an untidy bun as she walked into the Mess Hall, she spotted him straight away. Spike sat alone, shovelling a pile of scrambled eggs and pancakes into his mouth. Wearing a crisp white shirt, jacket clean and mended, sword and scabbard hanging from the back of his chair, the soldier looked ready for action. He saw her and smiled. The bruised lip had healed. Wiping his mouth on a napkin, Spike stood up and pulled out a chair for her.

“Hello, Buffy. Ready for some food yet?”

“That’s okay I can...” But he was already gone, returning in a trice with a plateful of just about everything on the counter, plus a tall glass of juice.

He resumed eating and didn’t look up. He was hiding something.

“What’s wrong, Spike?”

“We have to leave and return to Aurelia. Close the gate somehow so that the Terr-Khan can’t get through.”

“Well, that’s good, right? Gives me a chance to see your home, maybe meet those dragons you were going on about.”

“Not a social visit, Buffy, more like averting an Apocalypse.”

“Excitement, danger, alien monsters, sounds great. When do we leave?”

Spike finally met her eye.

“You don’t,” he said bluntly. “You’ll be safer here with your own people. If all goes well I’ll be back in a few weeks and then we’ll see…” He trailed off.

“Oh.” Buffy took a few seconds to digest this. “Wait, are you trying to get rid of me?” A surge of hurt swept up and threatened to drown the poor girl and some of it must have shown on her face.

He grabbed her hands in his. “No, Buffy, you’re still mine, er, my wife, but it’s too dangerous.”

The penny dropped.

“Wait, this is a woman thing, isn’t it? The Aurelian menfolk are off to battle while the wives stay at home and knit cunning sweaters for the troops, is that it?”

Spike seemed puzzled at her turn of phrase but shook it off. “Well, there are females in any army, is only natural to have a few around, males have certain... needs,” he looked really uncomfortable now, “plus there are one or two who can fight alongside us, but it isn’t easy for them. We aren’t ‘polite’, Buffy, our camp isn’t the place for you... Anjell says...”

“Anjell says what, exactly?”

“That you should stay out of the way. That I’d be distracted with you around. That you’re weak and can’t fight and if anything happened to you we’d have Giles, and the rest of his blasted army, on our backs, and we have enough enemies as it is.”

Buffy blinked. She stared at the congealing contents of her plate for a moment then stood up. Lifting the juice from the table and downing it in one, she gave Spike a look. A really pissed off look. Then she smiled - almost perkily.

“Be right back.”

Marching out of the hall and ignoring Spike as he hastily scrambled up to follow, she headed to where she’d last seen the General. He was still talking to Giles and was completely oblivious to the approaching danger.

“General Anjell!”

Anjell turned, a little surprised at Buffy’s sharp tone of voice.

The next he knew was the sensation of flying through the air before smacking hard into the wall twenty feet away.

Buffy slowly walked to where the dazed leader lay on the floor.

“I’m going too.” She said sweetly. “Sir!”

***