Chapter 2

"Buffy! Where are you going?" Joyce called as Buffy started to open the front door after dinner the next day.

"On patrol, Mom."

Joyce hesitated, looking at her dubiously. "Against these vampires and things."

"Uh huh. Didn’t you read all the stuff in those books Giles gave you?"

"Yes, I did, but..." Joyce wrung her hands nervously. "Buffy, really. Vampires? That’s just make-believe. They don’t really exist."

"Don’t they." Buffy’s Slayer sense could feel Spike outside, waiting for her. "Guess I’d better prove it, huh?"

Joyce’s eyes widened. "What?"

Buffy opened the front door, leaned out and called, "Spike! Could you come here for a minute?"

He came lightly out of the shadows and paused at the foot of the steps. "What’s up, luv?"

"Want you to meet my Mom." She grinned at him. "No eating my Mom, okay?"

He grinned back. "Promise."

"C’mon in, Spike."

He came through the door and smiled at Joyce. "‘Evening, Mrs Summers."

Joyce stared at him. Bleached hair, black leather, undeniably handsome and sexy, as undeniably trouble. So not the type of man she wanted to see her teenage daughter associating with. Ever. Every mother’s nightmare standing right there in her house.

"Mom, this is Spike. His real name’s William, but everybody calls him Spike."

Worse and worse.

"H-Hello, Spike." She looked beseechingly at Buffy. "Um, Buffy, I don’t quite understand..."

"Spike’s a vampire."

"Excuse me?" Spike might look like the stuff of a mother’s nightmares, but he certainly didn’t look like Bela Lugosi.

"Gameface, Spike, please?"

"You’re determined on giving everybody heart attacks, aren’t you?" said Spike, but obliged.

Joyce made a sound as if the wind had been knocked right out of her and tottered backwards helplessly. Buffy caught her and guided her to the couch. Joyce sank onto it, still staring speechlessly at yellow eyes, ridges and fangs, that whole grotesque, deadly, predator’s face.

"Wh-wh-what...?"

"Vampire, Mom. That’s what a vampire looks like. Usually you don’t see it, unless they’re sinking their fangs in you. Kinda pretty in a way on Spike," said Buffy thoughtfully, looking him over. He grinned. Which made him look even more frightening.

"P-p-pretty...!"

"Like a lion or a leopard or something." Buffy realized Joyce was in shock. "I guess I’m just used to it."

"Um, pet, I don’t think she’s breathing right either."

"Mom!" Buffy sat down on the couch beside Joyce and patted her back encouragingly. "Don’t do the Giles thing. Breathe."

"Yes. Yes," said Joyce numbly. She stared as Spike resumed his human face. "How do you do that?"

"You’d better give her a closer look, Spike." Buffy moved back to the other end of the couch to allow Spike to sit down next to her mother.

But Spike just went down on one knee in front of Joyce so that she could get a good, clear look, then went back into gameface. This close, she could hear the tiny grate of bone as he shifted. She put out a hand involuntarily and touched his ridges.

"Good Christ, it’s real!" Spike snickered and Joyce blushed vividly. "Oh, I’m sorry!"

"Quite understandable," grinned Spike, shifting back to his human face once more.

"But...I don’t understand. If you’re a vampire, aren’t the two of you supposed to be enemies?"

"Well, we’re supposed to be," Buffy said. "But I have a truce with the Sunnydale vamps right now. Spike’s their Master and we, well..."

Spike had slipped to one side and was sitting leaning against Buffy’s legs, his arm across her lap, and Buffy’s arm had dropped to lie across his shoulders. It was completely unthinking, but the body language was unmistakable. Joyce suddenly had a clear idea what the ‘well’ stood for. For her, that was a lot more upsetting than the fact that Spike was a vampire.

"How old are you, Spike?" she asked severely.

"Twenty-eight as a human, almost a hundred and twenty as a vamp."

The human part was bad enough; the vamp part didn’t bear thinking about.

"Oh, no," said Joyce. "Oh, no, Buffy, really! You’re only seventeen. I can’t possibly allow..."

"Um, it’s kinda too late, Mom. We claimed each other. That’s like a marriage in vamp terms."

"Married!" This time Joyce hoped she would pass out. Unfortunately it didn’t happen.

"You need a ring," Spike was saying thoughtfully. "Emeralds and diamonds, I think. Would go with your eyes."

Buffy beamed at him.

"Married," said Joyce again, trying to take it in.

"We’re linked," Buffy said. "Irrevocably. Can’t be broken. No divorce possible. I’m sorry, Mom, but it’s a done deal."

"It’s not that I have anything against you," Joyce said seriously to Spike. "You seem an awfully nice boy. But she’s so young!"

"She’s older than she looks," Spike said dryly, then didn’t expand on that when he caught the warning Buffy sent over the link. "But thank you for thinking I’m nice, Mrs Summers. Evil is usually the word people use."

Both he and Buffy were grinning. Joyce had to laugh.

"Well, you seem pretty nice for a vampire. Will you come to dinner tomorrow so that we can get acquainted?"

"I’d be honored, Mrs Summers."

"If you’re going to be my son-in-law, you’d better make it Joyce." Joyce shook her head. "This is all going to take some getting used to."

"Anyway," said Buffy, "that’s why I’ve got to go on patrol tonight. And every night. Got to keep the demons down. Spike’s going to help me," she added quickly as Joyce’s mouth opened on a protest.

"That makes things marginally better," muttered Joyce. "But, Buffy, dear...you could get hurt!"

"You haven’t seen her in action," said Spike. "She’s bloody good!"

Joyce looked unconvinced. Buffy patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"I’ve been doing this for ages. Don’t worry, Mom. Try looking those books over once again, but this time without the closed mind."

She grinned when Joyce looked guilty.

"I was denying everything I read," Joyce admitted. "I think I had better go through them again."

"Please read them, Mom." Buffy reached for the door. "It’s the only way you’ll understand what’s really going on."

"Now for some fun!" said Spike as he and Buffy went down the steps.

Willie the Snitch looked up in horror when Spike sauntered into his bar. A pall of silence fell over the several assorted demons in the place as Spike tapped the counter with one finger.

"O-neg. And don’t try slipping in orangutan or some other dreck like that. Think I can’t tell? The good stuff, wanker."

Willie poured it out with a shaking hand, helplessly watching two-thirds of his clientele, the peaceful ones, rapidly fading away out of his bar. The other one-third were getting to their feet and flexing their various appendages dangerously.

"This one’s on the house. Just drink it and get out of here."

"‘M in no hurry."

"Spike, for the love of God!" Willie hissed. "Don’t you know the word’s out?"

"And what word is that?" asked Spike, grinning at him.

"That the Master of Sunnydale’s become the Slayer’s lapdog," said an enormous K’Valch demon behind him. "I’d do what he says and save that candy ass of yours. We don’t want quislings like you dirtying up our place."

Spike turned and looked him up and down distastefully. "Place is dirtied up already with you in it, valchy. Serving notice here. You all want to save your candy asses, you get the hell out of this town. ‘S ours."

"Fucking vamps always think they run everything." A massive Strivald lumbered up on his right and glowered at him. "Fucking ‘Master’ of Sunnydale. Think you need a lesson in who really owns this town."

"Not you, that’s for sure." Spike grinned and tossed down his blood, then made a face. "Tastes bland after Slayer blood," he muttered, then smiled sweetly at the Strivald. "Really think you should be getting out of here before I rip your head off."

"You and what army?" the Strivald roared.

"That would be me," said Buffy. "Spike. Catch."

Spike caught the axe she threw him, whirled and sliced it straight through the Strivald’s neck.

"So I won’t rip," he amended. "Neater this way."

The Strivald’s head bounced on the counter top; the body thudded to the floor, greenish-tinged ichor spraying everywhere. The two halves of the K’Valch landed next to it. Buffy had taken it out in one blow. The place exploded into chaos.

"Outside!" wailed Willie. "Take it outside!"

No one listened to him. Demons were throwing themselves into the fight, Buffy and Spike were whirling buzzsaws at its center, and the maelstrom rolled right over Willie as if he didn’t even exist. He curled himself up on the floor behind the counter, his arms wrapped desperately around his head.

The fight did end up spilling out of the bar when Buffy flung a Riharejk through the doors. The confined space of the bar had given Buffy and Spike some advantage as it kept all the demons from attacking them at once. Outside, they spun smoothly to fight back to back. But suddenly there didn’t seem to be that many demons left and some of those seemed to be caught up in their own desperate struggles with opponents that had come out of the darkness behind them.

"Dang!" said Buffy. "They’re running."

The few demons that were left were indeed running. Buffy managed to chase one of them down and Spike dispatched another, but the rest were too fleet of foot and managed to beat a retreat before they could be run down.

"Ah, well, we should leave some fun for tomorrow," said Spike. "Boring otherwise."

"True." Buffy looked thoughtfully at the three figures just straightening up from demon corpses. "And who are these?"

"Ah." Spike grinned at the three vamps shifting from foot to foot under the Slayer’s gaze. "You boys didn’t have to join in. Slayer business, y’know."

"Our town," muttered Brian.

"That one’s Brian," said Spike to Buffy. "The lanky one’s Rafe. One on the end there’s Price. Guess you all know the Slayer."

"Ma’am," said Rafe and the other two nodded respectfully.

"Mm." Buffy bit her lip edgily. "Won’t kill you today. Might tomorrow. You know to keep out of my way, don’t you?"

"Yes, ma’am," they chorused.

"They’re your people. You take care of them." She scowled at Spike. "Tame vamps," she muttered. "That’s all I need."

"Don’t worry about it, Slayer." Spike winked at the others and jerked his head towards the bar.

They made their way around dead demons and pieces of, then looked in at the bar. Willy was just climbing shakily to his feet.

"Just look at this place," he said accusingly to them, pointing at the smashed tables and chairs, then at the walls and floor splashed with circulatory fluids of various colors. "Who’s going to pay for the damage?"

Spike glanced at Price who was treasurer. "Take care of it."

Price nodded and went to do so.

"And you’d better not pad it," Buffy said severely to Willie who gulped.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he lied, mentally cutting down by half what he had intended to ask, then offered ingratiatingly, "I can take care of the clean-up."

"Good. Do that."

"Well, that was a good night’s work," said Spike with satisfaction. He cocked an eyebrow at Brian. "Where are the other two?"

"Carla’s putting out the word in the bite-shops and Dalton found this book got him all excited. Real old and in the Brachen dialect. He’s gone off to see one of them to find out what it is."

"Dalton," said Buffy thoughtfully. "Glasses, thinning hair, middle-aged?"

Spike nodded. "Bookworm."

"He and Giles might have something in common. Do you think he’d mind showing that book to Giles?"

"Shouldn’t." Spike was trying to hide a grin at the thought.

"What’s so funny?"

"Giles and a vamp getting matey over a book That’ll be a sight." He gave her a droll look and Buffy had to laugh. "Just so you know the lot, Carla’s young, tough, thinks she’s a sexpot, has red hair."

"Got it."

Spike watched Brian and Rafe exchanging relieved glances that the Slayer seemed to be accepting the bunch of them, and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the whole situation.

"Right then," he said. "Slayer and me, we’re gonna do a quick pass through the cemeteries and then call it a night. You gits are off leash till tomorrow."

"No kil..." Buffy began sharply.

"Catch-and-release, ma’am," Rafe said before she could finish. "Swear. Made sense once we started thinking about it."

"Oh. Okay then." She glanced back over her shoulder at the three of them staring after her as Spike and she walked off, their arms loosely around each other. "They’re a bit on edge, aren’t they?"

"They never expected to see you this close up without getting dusted, Slayer."

"Oh." She had to laugh. "Well, I couldn’t stake them after they’d just helped us. Maybe tomorrow."

"Right."

She hit his stomach lightly with the flat of her hand. "Stop giggling."

"Wasn’t making a sound."

"I can feel you over the link."

"It’s just...the whole thing’s weird, yeah?"

Buffy sighed. "And it’s probably going to get a whole lot weirder."

They did a fast tour of the cemeteries, then headed back to Buffy’s flat.

Once there, Spike shed his duster and they both kicked off their boots, then curled up comfortably on the couch, Spike leaning back so that his head rested on Buffy’s arm lying along the back of the couch. She scooted closer until his head was on her shoulder, then dropped her cheek against his temple. He smiled.

"So, what about these apocalypses?" he asked, playing with the fingers of her free hand. "They gonna start happening anytime soon?"

"You can’t be looking forward to them!"

He grinned unrepentantly. "Well, I am. Looks like fun."

"Well, this year’s one was Angel turning into Angelus. That happens if he has a moment of perfect happiness," she explained at his raised brows. "But it shouldn’t happen this time. He knows about it now, so he’ll be able to guard against it. Unless Dru..."

"Dru’s more likely to drive him ‘round the bend," said Spike dryly. "He’s not used to the way she thinks, and he’ll be pulling that hair of his out by the roots right about now. Perfect happiness?" He snickered. "Not bloody likely."

Buffy bit her lip to hide a grin. "Angelus killed Jenny Calendar the last time around. But now she won’t die, so she and Giles can be happy."

"Watcher’s got a bird? Didn’t think he had it in him."

"And another good thing about Jenny being alive is that she can teach Willow how to handle magic. Willow taught herself the last time and she kinda forgot to teach herself a few important things. Like the fact that magic has consequences."

"Magic always has consequences," Spike muttered, then glanced at her in surprise. "Red’s a witch?"

"Will be."

"Interesting. What’s next on the agenda then?"

"Well, next year the Mayor wants to turn himself into a giant snake. But we can take care of that pretty much the way we already did. It was effective. Let’s see. The one to watch out for is the government building a secret base under the college here in Sunnydale. They want to use demons for military purposes, so they start experimenting on them. They put a chip in your head to keep you from harming humans."

Spike growled and she kissed his temple reassuringly.

"It won’t happen this time. We won’t allow the construction to even get started."

"Yeah. Can’t hide something like that. That’s a threat to all demons, peaceful or not, innit? Can put the word out. Got a network of spies here, what with the Brachens and the Krasevics and all. They’ll keep an eye out. First shovel goes in, they’ll know. Accidents will start happening. Not to people," he said quickly as she opened her mouth. "To machinery. Nothing’s gonna run right. That base will never be built."

"That might really work," said Buffy with satisfaction. "My Mom."

"What about her?"

"She gets sick. A tumor. They get it out, but just when we think she’s recovering, she has an aneurysm and dies. I want to keep that from happening. Maybe if we get her to have the operation sooner..."

"That would help, but, hey, vampire here. Nothing I can’t sense about blood. Blockage, dilation, clot, doesn’t matter. I’ll know it. Can keep an eye on her, sense it when it starts forming and get her to the hospital way before it gets critical. Nice lady, your Mum. Don’t worry, pet. We’ll make sure nothing happens to her."

"Spike..."

She dropped her head against his and he laughed, throwing up an arm to press her face to his.

"Hey, think I’m going to let anything happen to someone who calls a vampire ‘a nice boy’? Nearly had a coronary myself trying not to laugh."

"Idiot." She dashed the tears from her eyes. "Okay, what’s next? Glory."

She told him all about Glory and the portal she wanted to open and how Buffy had to die to close it. He frowned, listening to her intently.

"So you died and Willow resurrected you. But what happened to Glory?"

"Well, I won the fight and she was so weak she turned back into Ben. And...and Giles killed him."

"Watcher grew a pair, huh? Well, good for him!" He considered that thoughtfully. "So the way it is, this Glory is all-powerful when she’s in the hellgod stage and just an ordinary human when she’s this guy, Ben?"

"Yes."

"Right. No problem then. I just take the wanker out the minute he shows up in Sunnydale."

"Spike, you can’t do that!"

"Why not?"

"Well, he’s human. I can’t let..."

"Giles did and he was right to do it. The moment Glory got her strength back, you’d have had the whole thing to do all over again."

"It’s wrong!"

"Don’t care." He turned his head on her shoulder to look up at her. His face was hard and set, absolutely determined. "Think I’m going to let you die? Red might not be able to resurrect you this time. I’m a vamp, pet. Don’t care if it’s right or wrong. What’s one more death on my non-existent conscience? That git walks into Sunnydale, he’s dead."

The worst thing was that Giles would agree with him.

"Spike..."

"No, pet. Maybe you can think of another way. Try. But the way I see it, one death prevents a lot of grief. So I’ll have that death." He smiled grimly at her. "Moving right along."

"Spike."

"Moving on, luv."

"Um." She let it go for the time being and told him about Tara’s death and how Willow had gone all evil.

"That one’s easy," said Spike. "Take out your Troika right at the start. I’ll be able to sniff out their location and you can call the cops on them the minute they steal the diamond. Have them arrested for theft. Then keep an eye on your Tara, in case of accidents, until the danger’s well past." He tilted his head to smile at her. "And now the big one, right?"

Buffy nodded. "The First. And the solution is?"

They grinned at each other.

"Take off the amulet," they said at the same time and laughed.

"Wouldn’t be free of the Hellmouth then, luv," he said. "It would still be here and you’d still be tied to it."

"Don’t care, as long as you were there with me. And Sunnydale not disappearing into a crater is a good thing. I like this town."

"Our town," he agreed, smiling.

"Ramifications of that are spreading." She frowned, considering that. "Your vamps in on it. Demons getting the idea. There might be all sorts of repercussions."

"You have no idea."

She gave him a puzzled glance. "What does that mean?"

"You’ll see." He was smiling oddly.

"I wonder what Giles really thinks of it. As a Watcher, this must all seem like a...a blasphemy."

Giles was indeed having a hard time of it. Since he was paying Willie the Snitch to keep him posted on happenings around Sunnydale, Willie informed him the very next day about the smack down at the bar. Hearing that Buffy had taken on a bunch of demons didn’t surprise Giles at all, though he was horrified that she had put herself into that much danger. What really rocked him was that Spike and his minions had helped.

He went down to Revello Drive to ask Buffy about it and was unsurprised to find that she was not at home.

"She’s probably out with Willow and Xander," said Joyce. "It is Sunday afternoon, after all."

Giles didn’t disabuse her of that idea, even though he knew that it was incorrect. He could see Willow and Xander heading this way themselves, most likely also looking for Buffy.

"She’s not at home," he said, intercepting them.

"She’s probably at her flat," said Willow. "Why are you looking for her, Giles? Oh, don’t tell me. It’s something dire."

"Nothing of the sort," retorted Giles, exasperated by the levity. Why couldn’t these children take things seriously? "I just wanted to ask her about something."

"Let’s try her flat," said Xander, perking up. "Great place to hang out. I wonder if she’d mind if I had a party there some night."

"Well, if you don’t mind your guests getting eaten," muttered Giles and Xander gave him a horrified look. "Don’t forget that Spike seems to have the run of the place."

"Spike!" spat Xander bitterly. He still hadn’t reconciled himself to the idea that Buffy could have allowed herself to get involved with Spike.

His misgivings about Spike were confirmed when they opened the metal door of Buffy’s flat to find her having a ferocious knock-down-drag-out fight with Spike all across the livingroom.

Willow gasped and Xander threw himself at the weapons cabinet, yelling, "See? See?"

Giles grabbed him and shoved him against the wall, holding him there despite his struggles.

"Giles, what are you doing?" Xander gasped. "He’s going to kill her!"

"Don’t be such a bloody fool!" snapped Giles. "Spike can’t hurt her. They’re claimed. Weren’t you listening when I told you what that meant?"

"But look!"

"They’re sparring, that’s all."

"Sparring!"

Buffy and Spike hadn’t stopped battling, registering but discounting their arrival, their attention totally concentrated on the fight, where a moment’s loss of focus would mean defeat. Giles watched them in appreciation and wonder. He hadn’t seen Buffy fight after her future self arrived in this time and he had never seen her fight with an opponent as accomplished as Spike. The speed and power and ferocity of the moves they used against each other was astonishing. Giles was astounded and impressed.

The end came in an instant. One moment they were flinging themselves at each other; the next they were rolling over and over on the ground, their arms wrapped around each other. They ended up with Spike on top, the two of them kissing fiercely.

"Oh, God, I think I’m going to be sick!" said Xander loudly.

Buffy and Spike stopped kissing reluctantly, grinned at each other, then sat up, leaning on each other’s shoulders.

"Y’know, Xander, it’s amazing," said Buffy. "You still seem to think that I care."

"Yeah, whelp," said Spike. "You’ve really got to get it into your head. She doesn’t give a damn about your opinion."

Willow could hear Xander grinding his teeth. "Who won?" she asked quickly.

"Well, actually it was a draw," said Buffy. "I lost my balance and knocked Spike off his. What’s up, guys?"

"I heard about that fight you had last night," Giles said. "With demons at Willie’s bar."

"Yeah, took out a lot of the bad uns," nodded Spike, getting to his feet and drawing Buffy up with him. "Not too many left now. We’ll get them over the next week or so."

"Willie said that...vamps helped."

Spike grinned at him. "That’s what’s bothering you, huh, Watcher? Yeah, vamps helped. We don’t really like certain demons, so the boys decided to lend a hand."

"This is..."

"Unheard of. Yeah, Watcher. Got that. Better get used to it. Gonna be a lot of it going around."

There was a cough at the open door. A smallish, gray, nondescript demon was peering in at them hesitantly.

Willow squeaked and jumped back. Xander leaped for the weapons cabinet, then stopped short abruptly when Spike interposed himself in between.

"Firoud," Spike said softly to Buffy. "Non-harmful. Lives in the sewers. Pretty useful at keeping the vermin down."

"Ah. And what can I do for you?" asked Buffy with a polite nod of the head to the Firoud.

"Slayer." The Firoud bowed so low that it almost doubled up. "Please. We have a problem. If we could beg your indulgence..."

"What do you want of her?" Xander demanded, then jumped when Giles shoved him back.

"Be quiet, you fool," Giles hissed.

The Firoud bowed to Spike as well, then shot a doubtful glance at the others.

"Other petitioners," Spike said quickly.

"Ah." The Firoud looked relieved. "Is it permitted to speak before them, Slayer?"

Buffy shot a glance at Spike, then nodded. "If it does not bother you to do so," she said formally.

The Firoud shook his head. "It is about the Shonai." He gave Spike a beseeching glance. "The Master knows."

"The Mas..." began Xander scornfully, then shut up when Giles elbowed him hard.

"Spike is the Master. For God’s sake, will you be quiet, Xander! If you can’t, then leave."

"The Shonai is their mating ground," Spike was explaining quietly to Buffy. "They need an area close to the energy of the Hellmouth, which also has a stream of living water running through it. Can’t be just a rivulet from the sewers. Has to be a spring. As you might expect, that’s hard to find."

"And something has gone wrong with it?" Buffy asked the Firoud.

"The Ixtal have taken it."

"Ixtal?"

"‘Nother kind of demon," explained Spike. "Also live underground. Peaceful, but not exactly harmless."

"And what do they want the Shonai for?"

"They want the Shon, the...the spring," said the Firoud. "They drink the water."

"Does that pollute the water for you?" Buffy asked.

The Firoud shook its head. "No, no. We would share. But the Ixtal will not permit."

"Territorial," muttered Spike. "They’ll have driven the Firoud out. But they can find other sources of water if they have to. The Firoud need that spring to reproduce."

"I see," Buffy nodded. "I understand. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it."

"Thank you!" The Firoud bowed over and over again. "We knew...we knew...Thank you!"

"Wait," Giles said quickly as it started to bow itself out of the door. "Why did you come to Buffy with this problem?"

The Firoud gave him an incredulous glance. "But who else? She is the Joisan."

"The Overlord," murmured Spike and grinned at Buffy as the Firoud bowed himself away. "More than Master. Overlord. You claimed the title. They’ve accepted it."

"You knew."

Spike nodded. "Ruler of Sunnydale. These are the duties."

"But how did they find out?"

"Minions knew when I accepted the pax. The only one who could make a Master accept a pax is an Overlord. Word gets around."

Buffy looked at him curiously. "As Master, would the Firoud have come to you if I hadn’t claimed the Overlord title?"

"Vamps aren’t arbiters of justice for the demon community. Each species has its own rules. Tends to be a might-equals-right kind of thing on the whole. But this case is desperate enough that the Firoud might have appealed to me."

"But if there is a conflict like this, who decides? Don’t tell me," she sighed when he grinned at her. "The Overlord."

"If there is one. Didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, did you?"

"That’s why no Master ever claimed Overlordship in Sunnydale."

Spike was laughing at her. "Got it in one. Never wanted the hassle."

"Oh, dear Lord." Giles sat down hard on the couch. "Do you realize how far-reaching the implications of this might be, Buffy?"

Buffy groaned. "I’m beginning to. Do you know where this Shonai place is, Spike?"

"Yes. Pretty close to the high school, but very deep down."

"And the Ixtal’s territory must be close to it, otherwise they wouldn’t be claiming the spring. The distribution mains of the town run right across there. They shouldn’t have trouble tapping into them. Willow, can you find out how to access the closest one?"

Willow nodded. "You want to give the Ixtal an alternate source of fresh water?"

"Better if they share the spring. But if they flat out refuse, here’s an alternative, though they may have to route it in."

"I’ll have to go home to get my laptop."

"Spike’s got one here. You could use that."

"It’s all set up." Spike grinned at Willow’s surprised face. "Like to keep up to date on tech. Not in your class, Red, but I’m learning."

"Wait a minute," Xander said, from where he had dropped down onto the couch beside Giles. "Why are we helping demons? So this bunch dies out. Big deal. That just saves you some trouble, Buffy."

Spike gave him a cuttingly scornful look. "You’d let E.T. die, you wanker."

"I would not!" exclaimed Xander defensively. "Besides, he’s not a demon. He’s an alien."

"If you saw him, you’d think he was a demon. All aliens are demons to somebody. Don’t tell me if you saw a bug-eyed monster from outer space, you wouldn’t be running around looking for bazookas and calling in air strikes with nukes."

"Well, what if it was a facehugger from..."

"Oh, bo-oys!" sang Buffy. "Can we focus here, please?"

Willow was giggling. Spike grinned and Xander glared at him.

"Set me up," he muttered.

"So easy."

"The Firoud are peaceful," Willow said. "We can’t let them die."

"Okay, we don’t kill them. But we don’t have to help them either."

Willow frowned at him. "Not helping them is killing them, Xander. Same diff."

"Justice," said Buffy flatly. "A just rule."

Giles got a startled, thoughtful look on his face. Xander was silenced. Spike gave him a wide, mocking grin and went to get the laptop for Willow who immediately immersed herself in it.

"Got it," said Willow after a while. "Do you have a printer, Spike?"

"Over here."

"Let’s go pay a visit to the Ixtal," said Buffy once that was done. "Do you know where they are, Spike?"

"Yeah." He caught the axe Buffy threw him and grinned. "Getting to be your weapon of choice, Slayer."

"When facing demons. Still stakes for you guys, Spike."

"If only she’d use them," growled Xander, getting up.

"You’re not coming, whelp," said Spike as he passed, pushing Xander back down again. "Watcher can come if he likes. But not you or Red."

"Yes, I would like to come," Giles nodded, getting up with alacrity at the beguiling prospect of real life research.

"Want an axe or a crossbow?"

"Crossbow. I’d rather stay at a distance, if you don’t mind."

"Good call."

"If he’s coming, why can’t I?" Xander protested. "I’m in better shape!"

Spike gave him a scathing glance. "You’re the last person I want on a diplomatic mission, motor-mouth."

"Oh, I quite agree," muttered Giles and Xander looked wounded.

"So why are you taking weapons then?" he asked sulkily.

"Weapons are only a back-up in case diplomacy fails. I’d prefer not to be pushed into a situation where we would need to use them." Buffy didn’t look at Xander, but everyone knew what she meant. "It’s too dangerous for either you or Willow. Giles, you can come, but stay behind us, okay?"

"You’ll need a torch." Spike got one from a kitchen drawer and tossed it to Buffy, before heading for the far end of the livingroom and the door that led to the sewers.

The sewers only took them part of the way. Spike reached a certain point, then suddenly ducked behind a grating. The passage behind that only went a few yards before it suddenly made a sharp right turn and turned into undressed stone. There were no lights here and the two humans had to rely on Buffy’s torch. Spike, of course, with his vampire sight, just stepped lightly along. Giles regarded him ruefully and wondered whether it would have been smarter to stay behind and let the two of them deal with this. But the prospect of learning about a new demon culture was much too enticing to give up.

The passage was tilting downwards now so steeply that Giles found the backs of his calves aching and had to put his hand on the wall as he walked for support. He knew Spike was going slow for his benefit. Vampire and Slayer would have been a lot further ahead if he hadn’t come with them. But since there was no need for speed, they took their time, bantering and laughing as they swung lightly along side by side. At one point, Spike caught Buffy’s head in his free hand and kissed her.

Giles thought bitterly that they seemed to think they were taking a stroll in the park.

"Should we be talking so loudly?" he asked.

"We want them to know we’re coming," Buffy explained.

"Don’t want to seem like we’re sneaking up on them, Watcher. Just paying a friendly call, like. Light up ahead, Slayer."

Buffy snapped off her torch. There was indeed a reddish-orange glow coming from in front of them. She turned the torch back on again and passed it back to Giles.

"Keep it until we start going back up again, Giles. I want my hands free." She smiled faintly. "Except for the axe."

"Nest of demons," muttered Giles, definitely having second thoughts now. "If we get to the point where you have to use it, will one axe make that much of a difference?"

"Boy Scout motto. Be prepared."

"That bazooka Spike mentioned would have been better."

"Cheerful sod, aren’t you?" Spike grinned at him. "You don’t get it, Watcher. That point’s when the fun begins."

"And I thought bringing Xander along was a bad idea," sighed Giles.

They had almost reached the opening where the light was coming from. Two forms blocked it suddenly, black against the light, keeping them bottled up in the tunnel.

"Who?"

Both Buffy and Spike stepped forward at the same time so that the light fell on their faces. The forms stiffened.

"Massster. Ssslayer."

Spike made a sound like a hiss with clicks mingled in it. "Overlord," he added as a translation for Buffy and Giles.

There was definite hesitation in the guards facing them.

"Why you come?"

"To talk. Take me to your leader," said Buffy with relish.

Spike groaned. "You just had to say that, didn’t you?"

"Couldn’t resist," Buffy grinned.

There was another far longer hesitation. Then the guards withdrew far enough to allow them to leave the tunnel and step into a wider cave. Once they had taken a few steps into it though, the guards held up their hands to stop them.

"Ssstay."

One of the guards stepped back warily and called something in that hissing, clicking language. Buffy could hear bodies moving unseen outside the perimeter of this cave.

"Lead-er comesss," said the other guard.

She nodded. Behind her, she was aware of Giles remaining sensibly at the entrance to the tunnel, his crossbow in the crook of his elbow, making sure that their line of retreat remained open. At her side, Spike had dropped the head of his axe onto the ground and was comfortably leaning on its handle. She held her own axe just casually dangling at her side.

The cave was of undressed stone, lit by torches. There were several entrances and she was aware of presences now at every entrance. She looked the guards over. They were thin and tall, sinuous, almost serpentine, with clammy white hides and a spiny crest running down the back of their skulls. Despite the protection of those spines, the neck seemed the most vulnerable spot. She brushed her own neck with one fingertip and sent a query-feel to Spike. Confirmation came back over the link.

An Ixtal glided into the cave. He was larger than the others and he had a red gem embedded in the skin between his large, greenish-white eyes with their vertical pupils. A guard of eight came with him and now spread out to range themselves along the wall on that side of the cave.

"Overlord," he said and inclined his head formally in greeting. His accent was better than that of the guards. Buffy nodded back as regally as she could. "Why have you come?"

"We have a problem. Spike, please explain it to him in his language, so that there won’t be any possibility of misunderstanding."

Spike did so. When he had finished, there was a long silence while the Ixtal stared at Buffy. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking: the blank, snakelike eyes were unreadable.

"The water is ours," he said at last.

"You will share," Buffy said flatly. "Or you will find another source. If you wish, you can tap into city water at this point." She held the printout towards him. "But you would have to pipe it down here."

He took the printout and scrutinized it thoroughly. After a while, he said, "Why do you interfere, Overlord?"

"The Firoud petitioned me. Their species would die out without this water. Yours will not. Share or find another source."

There was another long pause. Then he looked at Spike. "In other times such disputes happened, you Masters of the Dark Ones said that the prize goes to the strongest."

"Times change," said Spike.

The Ixtal hissed, an angry sound. "You stand with her."

"I stand with her," said Spike. "Always."

The Ixtal looked at the two of them standing easily shoulder to shoulder. The spines of his crest lifted and fell, rattling.

"She is the Overlord and she has the right to ask this of you," Spike said. His voice had changed, the North London accent falling away into surprisingly cultured, far more formal tones to reflect the seriousness of the situation. "You are good fighters. But can you fight all those she can bring against you? My people will do as I command and move against you. And so will others. She is Lord. She can call them. Do you wish her to do that?"

Buffy didn’t show her surprise at the idea of demons following her orders, but sent a query-feel over the link. His affirmation came back, no doubt about it at all.

"Do you declare war, Salis?" Spike said and again the formality of his voice accentuated the gravity of his words.

Nictitating membranes slid back and forth once over the Ixtal’s eyes.

"It is so small a thing," he said peevishly to Buffy. "Why do you concern yourself with it?"

"It is no small thing to the Firoud." She looked at him sternly. "Today I make a request of it, Salis. Tomorrow it will not be a request. Share or find another source."

His spines rattled as they lifted and then fell again.

"We will share," he said heavily.

"Excellent decision," muttered Giles in the background. Buffy felt Spike’s amusement over the link.

"Thank you," she said courteously to Salis. "I am grateful."

"And will you then take our part on another occasion if we ask it of you?" the Ixtal asked.

"Of course. If the request is reasonable and the cause is just."

"Justice," muttered Salis. "That in itself is unreasonable."

"New day, old sod," said Spike happily, his voice back to normal. "You’ve got yourself a human Overlord and you know what they’re like."

"Mated," remarked Salis, studying the two of them. "I heard this. It is true?"

"‘Fraid so," Spike nodded.

"You are a brave man."

"You have no idea."

"Hey!" said Buffy and Salis made a hissing sound that was clearly a laugh.

"You will feast with us?"

"Er..." said Giles, but Spike flung an arm around Buffy’s neck and tossed his axe upwards gaily.

"Oh, sure! You’ll love what they use for booze," he said to Buffy. "No alcohol content, but some rush!"

A little while later, to Giles’ hidden misgivings, they were seated on ornately carved chairs in front of an intricately carved stone table, with the Ixtal ranged all around them, in a much wider hall, this one of dressed stone with exquisitely carved pillars supporting the weight of the roof overhead.

"Look at the carving!" Giles muttered to Buffy. "Beautiful work and very unusual designs."

"This is one of your wise men?" Salis asked.

"Well..." said Spike.

"Yes!" said Buffy, glaring at him, and Spike laughed. "He’s interested in your culture."

"So." Salis called something and a smallish, bent Ixtal made his way through the crowd to seat himself beside Giles. "He is one of our wise men and he speaks your language. You may ask him what you like."

Platters of food were being set before them now.

"Not the red stuff," Spike said quickly. "Tastes terrific, but does weird things to human insides."

Those platters were hastily removed from in front of Buffy and Giles. Spike dug into his happily.

"Er, Spike?" called Giles, uneasily eying the food in front of him.

"Oh, it’s safe, Watcher. If it tastes good, eat it. Just don’t ask what it is," he added softly in Buffy’s ear.

"Long as it’s not human," she murmured back and he laughed.

"Won’t be. Not like us vamps, the Ixtal."

Music was being played on unfamiliar instruments that had Giles fascinated, and some of the Ixtal were dancing to it. The music was sibilant and every now and then had an odd, atonal note, but there was a melody to it that was pleasant and a slow but recognizable beat. The dancing was fluid and sinuous and beautiful to watch.

The food was tasty and there was water to wash it down. Buffy ate cheerfully without asking questions and even Giles seemed to like it. Towards the end of the meal, a wide shallow goblet began making the rounds, greenish fumes rising from it.

"Ah," said Spike with relish. "You’ll like this, Slayer. Breathe the fumes, take a sip—a small sip, mind—then pass the cup along."

Buffy did so. "Whoa!" she said and Spike grinned at her. A giddy, euphoric feeling had begun to sing through her veins. Everything suddenly acquired a golden glow and she felt as if she were floating.

"Best of all, no hangover in the morning," said Spike.

The Ixtal who were dancing were now moving all connected by their arms across each other’s shoulders, weaving intricate patterns that became ribbons of glowing color in Buffy’s hazy eyes, like a flowing kaleidoscope shifting and changing. The goblet came around again.

"A very small sip, pet. You’re not used to it."

"Oooh." Her blood seemed to be shimmering in her veins. She leaned on his shoulder. "You’re glowing."

"Am I?" He laughed at her.

"Mm. You’re beautiful with all the golden lights, you know that?"

He was, with that vivid grin and that long dimple slashing down his cheek as he laughed and the creases fanning out from the corners of those flame-blue eyes over the supermodel cheekbones. She was seeing him suddenly with hypersensitive perception and it was lovely.

He caught her to him and kissed her. It thrilled right through her, an unbelievable sweetness shivering through her every nerve. She seriously considered pulling him off his chair and onto the ground.

"Oh, God, Watcher’s had too much!"

Giles was up and dancing, with wild enthusiasm and an entire lack of skill, his jerky, angular movements contrasting hilariously with the fluidity around him. Buffy and Spike held each other and laughed themselves sick. Even Salis was hissing with amusement as he watched.

"We’d better get him home before we have an interspecies incident," Buffy giggled. "Salis, that was wonderful. Thank you."

He bowed. "We were honored."

Spike retrieved the crossbow, slung it over his shoulder, then scooped up his axe. Buffy found hers, then they went and grabbed Giles with their free hands.

"Going home, Giles."

"So soon?" Giles squinted down at her. "But I was just getting limbered up."

"Getting legless, more like," grinned Spike as Giles swayed widely. "Just hold onto us, Watcher."

"Feel like dancing," Giles protested.

"Well, dance your way up the tunnel, mate."

Giles did so, weaving happily. Since Buffy was weaving also, though not quite as badly, it made for a very uneven gait. Spike was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

"Not so bad when he’s sloshed, your Watcher," he said. "Must say I like him that way."

Giles was hanging on their necks now, just to keep upright. He hugged Spike with the arm he had around his neck.

"I like you too. You’re very nice. And very pretty with all those golden lights."

Spike snickered helplessly. "Watcher, if you even try to kiss me, I’ll knock you cold and sling you over my shoulder to get you home."

Giles pouted.

"Oh, God." Buffy couldn’t help giggling. "He’s going to forget all that research he did."

"No, he won’t. The good thing—and, maybe, the bad thing—about Ixtal booze is that you don’t forget anything. ‘S not like regular booze. You don’t get a hangover and it doesn’t blank out your brain. You just get high. He’ll remember. Every detail. Prolly want to shoot himself in the morning, he’s gonna be so embarrassed."

They made it into Buffy’s flat and Willow and Xander leaped to their feet.

"You’re okay!" Willow exclaimed. "Did everything go all right?"

Buffy nodded. "They’ll share the spring with the Firoud."

Xander frowned at Giles hanging onto Buffy and Spike. "Is Giles hurt? Did you get in a fight?"

Giles squinted at them. "The two of you are very pretty too. Everything’s very pretty. Golden sparkles everywhere."

"Giles!" Willow’s jaw dropped. "Are you drunk?"

"No!" said Giles, affronted. "But everything’s so pretty."

"Yes, he is," sighed Buffy. "Um, would the two of you mind taking him home? I’m kind of shaky on my feet myself right now."

"Uh, sure."

Giles transferred his grip to Willow and Xander, and they guided him to the door.

"He might try to kiss you," Spike called after them. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Xander gave him a horrified look. "You’re kidding, right?"

"Wanted to kiss me," Spike grinned.

Xander looked as if he were going to drop Giles’ arm and make a run for it.

"But I wouldn’t worry," said Spike. "I don’t think you’re his type."

"That was mean," laughed Buffy as the door closed behind an amused Willow, a beaming Giles and an appalled Xander.

"Wouldn’t be right not to warn them."

He reached out and ran the flat of his hands deliberately from her collarbone down across her breasts, over her abdomen and across her hips to the back of her thighs, then pulled her against him. She almost melted into a puddle on the floor, electric tingles crackling through every cell in her body.

"Ooh! Golden sparkles was right." She leaned against him, stroking his face and then his shoulders, felt him vibrating against her.

"Fireworks more like." He gathered her into his arms and kissed her breathless, bending her back over his arm.

"Oh, wow! How much of that stuff did you have?" She could feel him just fizzing with electricity over the link.

"Considerably more than your Watcher." He scooped her up, carried her into the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced and he caught her foot and began to drag her boot off. "But I’m used to seeing golden sparkles when I look at you, golden girl."

She lay back, dreamily pulling her tank top over her head while he finished pulling off her boots. Everything in the little bedroom had a shimmer of golden light around it.

"Is it a drug, that drink of theirs? I feel like I’m drugged."

‘Nah." He had discarded his duster and Docs, and was now working on her jeans. "Just their version of booze. Non-addictive. An enhancer, that’s all. Everything feels good."

"It really does."

He had removed her jeans and thong in one smooth movement, stepped back to pull his own jeans and T-shirt off. She unsnapped her bra and threw it away, then held out her arms as he did that lazy, leopard prowl up the bed to her. He folded down on top of her and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, laughing.

"Gonna take my time," he purred. "You’ll love this."

"Starting to believe that."

Every inch of skin where they touched tingled and sparked. He ran his open mouth down her throat, then back and forth over her collarbone. She quivered and arched involuntarily. Her blood seemed to have turned to quicksilver, glittering and gleaming through her veins. She ran her hands down his back and felt him shiver and push against her. The claim picked up his pleasure and fed it to her, just as it was feeding him hers.

"Ohh!" she sighed. "Either the claim or the drink. The two of them together is too much! I feel like I’ve got one of those Fourth of July sparklers going off in my brain."

He laughed and stroked her breast, just a light touch, but it flickered through her like an electric charge. "Where’s that Slayer stamina?"

"Long gone."

They coiled around each other, hands and mouths running over skin that thrilled and sang. Nerve ends firing off and not having time to settle before the next reverberation shuddered through them, friction piling sensation upon sensation, a spiral of unbearable sweetness spinning higher and higher.

He caught the backs of her knees and lifted them, then instead of coming into her as she expected, suddenly slid downwards and bit the inside of her thigh. The sensation of his fangs sliding lightly into her flesh was both a shock and an unbearable rapture.

"Oh, God!"

Then his lips and his tongue were on her clit and two long fingers slid into her, searching for then finding that one spot of sensitive tissue inside her.

"Oh my God!"

She felt him smile against her, felt his delight and his laughter over the link. Then her brain shorted out as her climax hit her.

"Spike!"

She came back to herself as he slid up her again, his hips settling into hers in that nestling movement, his hands gentling her through the aftershocks.

"Oh, God, Spike, that was...Mmm," she purred as he moved over her with intent, his eyes smiling. "Oh, yes..."

He thrust into her in one slow, deep stroke and she arched to him, every nerve sparking and quivering. He flung his head back, eyes closed, and the claim threw her the intensity of his pleasure. She felt him pistoning into her, felt him feeling her. They strained against each other, gasping against each other’s faces, the blood in their veins blazing like wildfire, lost in each other’s sensations, one being. She felt him shudder and pulse within her, bit the claim mark on his neck and felt him blank right out in one convulsive jolt of ecstasy just as her own brain seized up.

She came back to herself to find him heavy upon her, still partially erect within her and starting to move again.

"I think my brain’s fried," she muttered and he laughed breathlessly against her jaw.

"Again, Slayer."

"Oh, God, no. I think I’d die."

But his fangs slid into the claim mark on her neck and her whole body arched to his with the ecstatic rapture that sang through her veins as he drank—and she didn’t care if she died. She just wanted this to go on forever.



TBC