For a group of people who had spent the day reeling from one shock to the next, this latest event was still pretty special. As everyone stared open-mouthed, Giles gave a deep groan and pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for all hell to break loose. Spike, arriving on the scene a split second too late, took in the vision of Anjell lying crumpled against the wall and snorted with laughter before common sense kicked in. The telltale hiss of swords being unsheathed made him draw closer to Buffy and he glared around the room at the Aurelians in question, daring them to make a move.

Buffy seemed rooted to the spot, smile fading as the enormity of what she’d done hit home.

Anjell rose to his feet and lightly brushed himself down, eyes trained on his tiny assailant. Slowly crossing the room towards her, and well aware of Spike’s narrowing eyes, he barked, “Keep out of this, boy!”

“Sorry, but no!”

Without bothering to reply to Spike he towered over Buffy, scowling. “See, this is what happens with marrieds, this is why wives do not go on campaigns. I am not having one of my best men lose what little sense he has defending his mate’s honour. Your claim on him ensures obedience at home, in battle that’s a liability! I’ll accept that you are strong,” he paused, “unnaturally so... but you have no idea of what you’re getting into. You’ll be whining and pouting within two days on the road, and I am not having Spike compelled to run around fetching you extra blankets or rubbing your sore little feet, or pandering to your... other needs."

Affronted, Buffy folded her arms ready to lay into General Dinosaur when she caught Spike’s frozen rabbit expression.

“What claim?”

Now it was Anjell’s turn to look astonished. “The binding claim all females perform on their wedding night.”

Buffy’s voice was dangerously soft. “Remind me how that goes?”

Anjell actually blushed. “Well... er, you cuff or bind the wrists of your husband and just before the point of, um, sexual fulfilment, claim your ownership of him which he has to agree to. You then bite to draw and consume his blood. Finally you release him, leaving spiritual rather than physical ties to you.”

Buffy began to understand a few things. The painted tattoos, the red ribbon wrapped around their wrists and the letting and mingling of blood created a bond, but the marriage bed completed it. Those dangerous looking cuffs that had both intrigued and terrified her were intended for Spike! Droo had said that Aurelian males were brought up to obey their women at home but hadn’t said anything useful after that. Had that been on purpose? Buffy had rejected him though, leaving them both tingling and most definitely, wanting. Spike told her that sex was the cure, which was sort of true, while deliberately not revealing more. Had he and Droo conspired against her?

Eventually, he’d seduced her at the lake - which had been beyond incredible. She remembered being carried to the clearing, Spike coaxing and taking control, making her burn with firm strokes and soft lips. He’d held her wrists in his hand, binding them with the loosened bandage while teasing her body till she couldn’t think straight, insistently asking, demanding, “Tell me you’re mine!” And she’d agreed, but had broken free so that she could pull him closer. Buffy had rocketed to heaven by way of a spectacular orgasm with Spike wrapped firmly in her arms. Before he’d bitten her.

Two things struck her. One; the bastard had tried to get the upper hand and almost succeeded, and two; any lustful thoughts she’d been having since then were entirely down to her.

Buffy swivelled round to look at Spike who was almost trembling with the need to run.

“And if the husband were to perform the same ceremony on his wife then the effect would be the same?”

“Yes, but its never done, outlawed centuries ago... wait... you mean?” Anjell was horrified.

Buffy stepped in front of Spike and raised her wrists, holding them together. Then slowly, and pointedly, pulled them apart.

“I freed myself before you bit me!”

Spike’s eyes widened. In a flash she pulled a fist back and punched him on the nose. Stumbling, he clutched at his bleeding nostrils with a pained, “Ow!”

Turning to the general with a slight smile she continued as if nothing had happened.
“So, if the claiming thingy isn’t completed then both parties stay themselves, not controlled by the other?”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Then I’d like to, no, I need to go with you.”

Anjell knew defeat when he saw it; he could also sense a powerful connection between the bothersome pair, which now made no sense at all. But Droo had told him that Buffy would be very important to them in the future and, odd as that was, he knew better than to defy her visions. He really didn’t want to confront Spike about his attempt to claim the girl just yet, but he could understand his need not to be controlled by a human. Anjell would probably have done the same thing.

“Okay,” he ground out, “you can go…but keep away from Spike.”

“Not a problem!”

Anjell continued, “You’ll stay with the campfire women, earn your keep and obey orders.”

“Yes, sir!”

“And if I have any trouble from either of you,” he encompassed Spike with his glare, “you’ll both be very sorry indeed.”

***

Feeling curiously protective, Giles watched as Buffy zipped up her protective thermal outerwear, making ready for the experience of a lifetime; the first human to travel in this fashion, and one of very few to set foot on Aurelia. The mission would take them through some pretty inhospitable territory but, with a feeling of pride, he knew that this unusual young woman would survive whatever was thrown at her.

Earlier, he’d offered Anjell both men and equipment, but the general had politely turned him down, pointing out that with the protective magics still in place across Aurelia, the sophisticated technology present in hovasleds, coms and weapons would be rendered useless. Ruefully, Giles realised that a good old Smith and Wesson would be worth its weight in gold in such a society. A pity they were all in collections and museums back on earth.

Meanwhile, Buffy had pulled on her snow boots and was currently snapping on her faux fur lined hood, finishing off with gloves. Encased all in white, he could see her wide green eyes drinking in the preparations of her new companions. Largely ignoring the intruder in their midst they were buckling up sword belts, adjusting straps on ankle daggers and checking wicked axe blades for a keen edge. Finally, the soldiers fastened cloaks around their shoulders with heavy jewelled clasps, soft grey and white animal furs rippling to their ankles. Laughing and joking, with rough humour and ready grins, they looked like any group of men looking for trouble.

Walking over, Buffy looked up at Giles from the depths of her hood, biting her lip but looking determined for all that. In an uncharacteristic move he enfolded the girl in a warm hug before taking a step back with a gruff, “You’ll do us proud, Buffy.”

With a brave smile she nodded, before moving off to join the others.

As Buffy stood within the circle of screens erected outside she could still hear Tarah’s words of reassurance. “Don’t worry, the first time is always the worst - just don’t fight it.”

She and Dorn had said good-bye earlier, having decided to stay and help establish a camp for the Watcher immigrants and act as go-between if Droo, or another seer, had more warnings to add to the ever growing list of threats. Even Willow had been a bit tearful as Buffy made ready to leave, worried for her new friend.

The dishes of incense were now giving off a heady scent and a low masculine chanting started up from the travellers as they prepared to journey home. Despite the warnings, nothing could prepare Buffy for the terrible darkness. A fierce dragging sensation propelled her forward into an inky void and bone deep cold leeched her warmth away in an instant. Deprived of sight and senses, she began to lose herself and panic.

Just as she thought she’d start screaming, as if it would do any good, thin streams of light appeared, rushing past at a furious rate. She became aware of a cluster of glowing lights around her, moving with her. One of the glowy balls detached itself from the rest and came closer. Invisible hands drew her in and she felt herself pressed against a hard chest, warm tickles grazed her cheek as she was wrapped up in a cocoon of fur. Snaking herself around Spike’s comforting body she plummeted through space.

***

With a rough jolt the endless ride ceased and Buffy fell to her knees, fingers scrabbling in the earth as she gasped for breath. Then she threw up. With watery eyes she met a mixture of sniggering yet sympathetic faces. Spike had withdrawn to a safe distance and was trying to look unconcerned; it was Oss who helped her up. Handing her a flask she shakily opened it and took a deep swallow, choking as the fiery liquor burned her throat. Oss ignored her look of outrage and shrugged. “Here.” Handing her a twist of waxy paper she unwrapped it cautiously and sniffed at the sticky gum inside; it smelled of mint and aniseed. Popping the moist tablet in her mouth, the lurching sensation in her stomach eased after only a few chews. She smiled in gratitude.

They were standing on a hillside within a rough circle of stones, half buried under moss and tiny leafed plants. Below them a group of dwellings lay at the bottom of a steep valley, blending into a landscape of weathered rocks, grasses and gorse. To the west and north rose more hills, mottled by shadows from rapidly scudding clouds, and beyond them were the faint outlines of white laced mountains. A dull steel sky promised snow, and the sun, lying low on the horizon, painted swirls of orange, lemon and purple over the topmost crags. The sheer vastness of the landscape made her dizzy.

The soldiers set off quickly and quietly down the hill, alert for anything unusual. Strange sheep-like creatures, making much of grazing the prickly yellow flowers, completely ignored the visitors as they descended, but when a small child, wrapped heavily in furs, bobbed up from behind a rock, waving cheerfully, the group relaxed.

As they neared the buildings, Buffy could see thin wisps of smoke trailing from chimneys, and narrow pens containing more livestock. People were emerging now, dressed warmly in the muted colours of their surroundings. They bowed and called out greetings in an accent too heavy for Buffy to decipher, but she recognised relief on their faces. There was curiosity for her too, and a couple of raised eyebrows at her unusual outfit, now covered in grass stains.

Anjell strode ahead, his normally grim countenance softening a little. They walked through the narrow paved streets until they came to a building, larger than the rest, where Buffy could hear the sounds of laughter and loud conversation. The heavily studded door was pushed open and a blast of warmth hit them as they entered the inn. In contrast to its austere outer shell, the inside of the large room was a revelation.

A mass of people, mostly soldiers, were seated on benches and chairs at heavy wooden tables, eating and drinking. Nicked with small gouges and patterned with overlapping dark circles, all the furniture was nonetheless lovingly polished to a deep amber. The floor was of slate slabs but the walls were alive with colour from thick tapestries, depicting the view outside in rich greens and blues, a vibrant sun picked out in gold thread gleamed over fields of flowing grass dotted with white fleeced animals and their young. A summer scene. An enormous fire, filled with logs and what looked like pinecones, blazed in a great hearth at the far end of the hall, and Buffy could smell wood smoke, ale and roasting meat.

As the newcomers were spotted there was a scramble as soldiers tried to rise, but Anjell signalled for them to remain seated and made his way to an empty table. A large woman bustled out of a side door flanked by two youths and a young girl, all with the same wild red hair as their formidable mother. Barking out orders, her offspring leapt to help the group remove their cloaks and sword belts before scurrying off, buried under their weight. They sat down, and the children returned with trays laden with pottery jugs and mugs which they set on the table before disappearing again.

Buffy found herself sandwiched between two of Anjell’s men who had, up till now, ignored her; a tall dark haired Aurelian named Scarr, who said little, and a wiry little figure called Brack. The deep grooves on Brack’s face and criss-crossing lines from past injuries running over his close shaved scalp, revealed an old, experienced fighter, as did his sharp brown eyes that missed nothing. He was currently looking at her with something like amusement and slid a cup full of liquid along the table. “Here, Earthgirl, get your innards around that.”

Sensing a challenge, Buffy raised the cup in a mock toast and took a deep swig, praying that she’d survive it. It was delicious. Warmth ran down to her toes as the spiced ale, sweetened with honey, danced on her tongue. She moaned with pleasure and Brack chuckled. When the children returned with an enormous tureen, a stack of bowls and - thank god - spoons, she happily accepted ladles full of the heavy stew and a chunk of warm bread. Quite frankly, if this was primitive food then she was eager to adapt to it.

Spike, who was sitting at the other end of the table, and well aware of Anjell next to him, said little, only gazing over once to give Brack a warning look as he made to refill Buffy’s cup. Smirking, the old soldier nodded and added a large measure of hot water to her drink to make it less potent.

As the evening wore on, and the ale and her full belly added to her drowsy state, Buffy found herself leaning heavily on her new companion, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. A conversation followed with the woman in charge and Buffy was led, unresisting, to a set of narrow wooden stairs. At the top, was a long landing with half a dozen doors leading off. The innkeeper guided her into a room and, with exaggerated miming actions, indicated the clean bed and thick coverlets, a basin and earthcloset hidden in a wooden box. Thanking her, Buffy put the latch on the door as the woman left, stumbled through her bedtime preparations before removing her outer clothes and boots and sinking deep into the covers. She fell asleep instantly, her arm and one knee unconsciously stretching out across the sheets, seeking something, someone, in the empty space.

***