Slay Bells by Eowyn315

Chapter #1 - 'Tis the Season

A/N: As a warning, this fic will contain both temporary Spike/OC and Buffy/OC - but conflict is what makes things fun, right? Thanks to Slaymesoftly for betaing! ***** Chapter 1: ’Tis the Season “It’s just not right,” Buffy said, taking in the inexplicable sight before her. Dawn wrinkled her nose. “I’m frightened.” “Why would someone do something like that?” “It’s like Christmas just… threw up on their lawn.” From their vantage point on the front porch, they peered across the street, where their neighbors clearly eschewed the “less is more” theory in decorating their house. Plastic candy canes lined the front walk and the yard, where Winnie the Pooh in a Santa suit presided over the baby Jesus in his manger scene. Nearby, a herd of light-up reindeer – only the back halves of which were blinking – grazed in the shadow of the largest inflatable Frosty money could buy. Mr. Claus himself and his reindeer-drawn sleigh graced the roof of the house, perpetually in mid-take off, as Santa gave a Miss America wave to the neighborhood. The porch was draped with icicle lights and garland, and the windows were lined with those chasing lights traditionally found at video rental stores. The words “Season’s Greetings” were emblazoned in red and green neon across the front of the house, and every bush was drenched in Christmas lights, while one solitary strand wound its way around the lowest layer of branches of a large oak tree, some of which hung out over the middle of the street. Dawn raised one hand to shield her eyes. “I can’t look anymore.” Buffy tilted her head to one side. “I don’t remember ever hearing about Winnie the Pooh being present at the birth of Jesus.” “I think I’m blind.” “You just can’t appreciate it. See, it’s the lights in the middle of the street that really make it art.” ***** Buffy heard the knock on the front door as she was getting ready to go out for patrol on Sunday night. “Spike?” she said, surprised to find the vampire on her porch. “What are you doing here?” Without even coming inside, Spike blurted out, “What the hell is going on across the street?” “Don’t even ask,” Buffy replied, rolling her eyes. “All that stuff just materialized over the weekend. So, uh, did you… need something?” In response, Spike held out a wad of cash. “It’s five hundred dollars,” he explained. “Should be enough to hold off the bank, least for a little while.” Buffy just stared at it. “Spike, what is this? What – where did you get this?” “Said you needed money, right? Told you I’d help.” He grinned. “There’s decent money in bein’ evil, you know.” Buffy gripped the side of the door, a sick sensation settling in the pit of her stomach as she imagined all the despicable ways Spike could’ve come across that much money. And he’d done it for her, making it partially her fault. “But I – I mean, where – how did you -” “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean.” He sounded hurt. She met his eyes then quickly glanced away. “I – yeah, that’s what I mean.” “Look, Buffy, I can explain,” Spike said, realizing he’d gone about this entirely backwards and given her the wrong idea. “Just let me inside, all right?” Nodding slowly, Buffy backed up, opening the door further and allowing him to enter. She followed him into the living room and gingerly sat next to him on the sofa, her whole body tensed as though she expected to have to fight him at any moment. “Thing is, Buffy, demons in this town… they know what I do, yeah? Helping you out, killing my own kind. So, sometimes, when odd jobs need doing, they, uh, they offer ’em to me.” “Odd jobs? You mean killing things.” There was a hint of suspicion in her voice. “Only demons,” he insisted. Buffy still looked unconvinced. “But it’s so… mercenary.” “What do you want me to do, pet?” Spike asked with exasperation. “Get a real job? Not much work out there for a bloke with no pulse and no papers.” “I didn’t ask you to do anything!” she replied, leaping to her feet. “I didn’t ask you to give me money. And I certainly didn’t ask you to do this.” “Buffy…” Spike stood up next to her, catching her by the elbow. “I just want to help you. Please, let me help you.” “Spike, I don’t know…” “There’s more where this came from. Always jobs need doing. Might even be able to bring in steady money for you, Buffy. Please…” He held her with his pleading gaze, wearing down her resistance as she realized with gratitude that he was trying to solve her problems the best way he knew how. Buffy glanced again at the roll of bills in his hand. “You made all that in two days?” Spike nodded. “So, demons pay you to kill other demons… Hey, you think they’d pay me for that?” He laughed. “Not a chance. I’ve had a fair share of offers to do you in, though… Well, I wouldn’t,” he insisted, when Buffy glared at him. “Point is, I can make more than enough to help you out, if you’ll let me.” “I – I don’t know what to say.” Spike reached out and ran one hand through the hair framing her face. “You don’t have to say anything. I made a promise, remember?” “I feel guilty just taking your money.” “You took care of me when I needed it,” Spike reminded her, remembering fondly how she’d nursed him back to health after Drusilla’s torture, how she’d offered him her own blood to make him well – something that would probably never happen again, after the hallucinations. “Let me take care of you.” Buffy’s mouth twitched with indecision. “Spike…” “You could live here.” Buffy and Spike turned to see Dawn on the stairs, leaning against the railing, where she had been eavesdropping undetected for most of their conversation. “You could live here,” she said again, “and we could think of the money as rent.” Spike’s face was full of doubt. “Niblet, that’s not –” “No, that’s a good idea,” Buffy interrupted him. Spike looked at her in surprise. “Bit? Can you give me a minute with your sis?” Once the younger girl had gone back upstairs, he told Buffy, “You don’t have to do that, love, just because she said it.” “I’m not,” Buffy insisted. “I mean, you’d – you’d be giving us money in exchange for something. It’s fair. It – it’s a good idea.” “Yeah, ’cept for the part where I’m living in your house.” Spike sighed. “Look, Buffy, I know you’re still… out of sorts, after everything. It’s all right if you don’t trust me. You don’t have to do this just to prove that you’re –” “But I want to,” she cut him off. “I want to trust you. I want us to be friends again.” She paused for a moment. “I’m not ready for anything more than that right now, but it doesn’t have to be… I mean, you’d have your own room and everything.” Spike hesitated. “Let’s – let’s just think on it, all right? Don’t have to decide straight away.” He took her hand and pressed the money into her palm, closing her fingers around it. “Just take this for now,” he begged her. “Please.” ***** “This is good,” Dawn said, as she and Spike put away their equipment following an afternoon training session at the Magic Box. “The not sneaking around anymore.” “Yeah,” Spike agreed, “but we’re following your sister’s rules now. Once a week after school, so don’t be begging for more. And don’t even think about trying to go out on patrol until she says you’re ready.” “Which’ll be never,” she pouted. “Come on, she’s letting me teach you, isn’t she? She’s just protective. Give her time to adjust to you growin’ up.” “Well, could she hurry up? She’s, like, way behind the curve.” “Hey, kinda new at the whole being a mom thing, here,” Buffy’s voice cut in. Spike and Dawn turned to see her standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest. Dawn looked away sheepishly. “Don’t I get a little slack?” “Yeah, yeah. You’re the best big sister-mom I’ve ever had,” Dawn replied, rolling her eyes. “And don’t you forget it.” Buffy pushed off the wall and strode into the room. “Dawn, go sit out in the shop and start your homework while I talk to Spike, okay?” As Dawn did as she was told, Buffy turned to Spike. “How’s that for mothering?” Spike half smiled. “What’s goin’ on, pet?” “How’s it going with her?” Buffy asked, gesturing toward the door with her head. “Good. We’ve, uh, started working on hand-to-hand combat, nothing fancy.” He was slightly disconcerted at her desire for a progress report. He wasn’t used to having to report back to someone. Buffy nodded without looking at him, walking over to the punching bag. She had already changed out of her work clothes and was wearing a tank top and sweatpants for training. She took a couple experimental swings before turning around. “You too tired for another round?” Spike looked at her with surprise. “You want me to train with you?” Buffy nodded again. “I know you can’t hit back, but…” She glanced down, slightly embarrassed. “My best fights were, um, were always with you.” A smile slowly crept across his face. “Flattered, pet.” He watched appreciatively as she stretched out, raising her arms above her head and going up on tiptoe, then extending each arm across her body and pressing it to her chest with the opposite forearm. His eyes widened when she spread her legs apart and bent down so that her palms rested on the floor, slowly sliding her feet outward until she was on the floor in a split. “Now you’re just doin’ this to torture me,” he remarked. “What? No…” Buffy’s face turned bright red as she scrambled to her feet. “Sorry, I just… I’m almost done.” He smirked at her flustered reaction. “Teasing, love.” She quickly walked away from him, propping one foot up on the wall at shoulder height and leaning forward to grab her ankle. “So, uh, have you thought more about… you know?” “Moving in?” “Yeah.” “Have you thought about it?” Buffy switched legs. “Well, I, um… I thought it was a good idea.” “And you still do?” “Yeah… I – I think that could be… good.” She turned around, finished with her stretches. “I mean, we have the space, and – and Dawn likes having you around. And like I said, you know, fairness with the money thing and all. Don’t you think?” Spike nodded. “If that’s what you want, pet.” “Is – is that what you want?” Buffy asked hesitantly. “I don’t want you to think you have to live with us. We could come up with something else if you –” She stopped when she met Spike’s eyes, and she had to stifle a giggle. “God, listen to us. We need to stop this – this walking around on pins and needles crap. We used to be decisive people.” “Lot of things got taken out of our hands lately,” Spike pointed out. “Things we couldn’t control.” “I know,” Buffy replied. “And I’m tired of stupid demons dictating my life. Time to start making our own choices again. So, okay, I want you to live with us,” she said, more confidently than she had before. “Do you want to move in?” His eyes twinkled. “Yeah. Yeah, pet, I do.” “When?” Spike cocked his head to the side, thinking about what he’d need to get done before then. “Sunday?” Buffy smiled. “Deal.” ***** Later that night, Dawn glanced up from the kitchen sink when she heard the rapping on the back door. No one ever knocked on the back door. Anybody they knew well enough to use the back door never bothered with knocking. Puzzled, she left the dishes to answer it, and was surprised to find Spike lurking in the shadows of the porch. “Spike? What are you –” “Shhh!” He peeked in the doorway and, satisfied that she was alone in the kitchen, said in a low voice, “Your sister home?” Dawn raised one eyebrow at his shifty behavior. “Yeah, she’s getting ready for patrol. You wanna –” “No!” he interrupted in a harsh whisper. “Did you two have a fight?” She eyed him suspiciously and with a fair measure of disapproval. He got the distinct impression that if they had had a fight, he’d have had to answer to her for it. “No. I just…” He hesitated, and for a minute he looked like he might chicken out and not tell her. “Need your help with something. Don’t want Buffy to know.” “What is it?” Her eyes twinkled with curiosity and the thrill of having a secret. He shook his head. “Not here. Wait till she leaves, I’ll come get you.” “Where are we going?” “It’s a surprise, Bit. Just finish washing up and you’ll find out soon enough.”

Chapter #2 - So This is Christmas

Chapter 2: So This is Christmas “I just don’t understand why only half the reindeer blinks,” said Buffy, stretched out on her stomach on the floor of Willow and Tara’s apartment. She dug her toes into the squishy carpet and made a mental note to get this kind of rug in every room of her house as soon as she had spare cash. It would make a much softer landing than the hardwood floors when demons broke in and threw her around. “Maybe it’s an artistic decision?” Tara suggested, curled up in a chair, flipping through a spell book. After a moment of silence, she said, “So, tomorrow’s the big day, huh?” Buffy looked up from where she was poring over her own large tome, her head propped up on one hand, elbow resting on the floor. “What?” “Spike… living with you,” Tara explained, as though it should be obvious. She raised her eyebrows at Buffy’s surprised expression. “Um, did Dawn tell you that?” “Yeah, last night when she came over, she…” Tara trailed off, her lips forming a silent “oh.” “You hadn’t told anyone else.” Buffy smiled sheepishly. “I kinda thought it’d be easier to do it afterwards. You know, once it’s too late for them to try to talk me out of it. But Dawn’s got a big mouth, I guess. Does Willow know, too?” “No, she was at the library… Oh! Here it is!” Tara exclaimed, her voice enthusiastic but weary as she pointed to a page in her book. Buffy pushed herself up off the floor to peer at the spell the witch had found. “See? You thought that would take a long time, and it only ended up taking five and a half hours.” Tara gave her a rueful smile. “Gee, I’m glad I didn’t spend my whole Saturday doing research.” “So, this will destroy the magic thingamabob?” “No thingamabob can withstand it – guaranteed or your money back.” Buffy dug around in her purse and pulled out the offending object – an artifact she’d found on patrol the previous eve. It didn’t look like much, just a plain, roundish, metally thing with weird inscriptions in some demon language. But Giles insisted it could be used for very dangerous black magic and must be destroyed as quickly as possible, hence research mode. Willow had offered to help, but she’d been bogged down with end-of-semester work and planned on spending most of the weekend at the library, leaving Buffy and Tara to figure it out. “Okay, what ingredients do we –” They both looked up at the sound of the front door. “Hey, guys,” said Willow, dropping her backpack next to the hall closet and shrugging out of her coat. “What’s cooking?” “Magic thingama – oh!” Buffy cut herself off as she realized there was someone flanking Willow. “Hi, Buffy,” said Jacob, somewhat hesitantly. “Jacob!” She scrambled to her feet at the sight of her – well, she could hardly consider him an ex, since they’d only managed two dates before she called it quits. Succumbing to the inevitable need to impress him, to show that she was doing totally fine on her own, she surreptitiously tried to spruce up her appearance, smoothing out her clothes and running her fingers through her hair. “Hi.” “How are you?” “Uh, good! You? How’ve you been?” She hugged the spell book against her chest protectively and tried to check him out without looking like she was checking him out. He caught her looking, and she quickly averted her eyes, fidgeting like a child. “I’m all right.” “Jacob and I were just working on our final papers for Roman Civ,” Willow explained. “He walked me home from the library. I completely forgot you’d be here.” She shot Buffy a wink and a conspiratorial smile. The Slayer only looked nauseous in return. Wasn’t there some sort of rule about best friends not arranging “chance” meetings without properly warning the subject of said meeting first? She was totally unprepared for this. Jacob shifted side to side a little, then gestured to the book in Buffy’s hands. “What’re you reading?” She slammed the book shut. “Oh. Tara and I were, uh…” She looked down at the cover, which said “Witchcraft” in curly gold script. “Studying?” “It’s okay, Buff,” said Willow. “Jacob knows all about the witchy stuff. He’s cool with it.” “Oh,” said Buffy. Then, with more enthusiasm, “Oh! Well, that’s… that’s great.” “Buffy, I didn’t know you practiced magic,” Jacob said. She gave him a smile and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t, really. I was just helping Tara.” “Are you guys destroying that doohicky Buffy found last night?” asked Willow. “I think doohicky destruction is definitely in our future,” Buffy replied. Willow turned to Jacob. “Buffy found this magical thingy when she was pa – uh, petting a dog?” she finished, noting the Slayer’s frantic expression. “It’s apparently some nasty black magic thingy that we have to get rid of before someone tries to use it to destroy the world or something.” “Does that happen a lot?” asked Jacob. “Oh, yeah, I pet dogs all the time. You could even call me a dog person!” Buffy offered in an overly cheerful voice. “I meant the destroying the world thing.” “Oh… um… well…” She looked to her friends for help, but they seemed as much at a loss for words as she was. “Maybe more so here than other places,” Jacob said, in a purposeful tone of voice. Buffy’s mouth fell open. “You mean you know…?” “That weird stuff goes on in Sunnydale? Yeah, I kinda noticed.” He gave her a look. “Gangs on PCP don’t hit like that.” Buffy dropped her eyes to the floor, a sheepish expression on her face. “Listen, I should get going,” Jacob said, gesturing towards the door, “so I’ll leave you to your, uh, doohicky destroying. But Buffy…” He gave her a gentle smile that made her unexpectedly tingly all over. “It was nice seeing you again.” “You, too,” she replied, her voice tinged with confusion. Once Willow had closed the door behind him, Buffy burst out, “Will! What was that about?” Willow shrugged. “He asked about you. I think he still likes you.” Buffy opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out as a thousand thoughts ran through her head all at once. “I might have mentioned we were going to the Bronze later tonight,” Willow added. “If you wanna, you know, carpe diem or something.” She winked again. “You remember there was a reason this didn’t work out the first time, right?” “Well, yeah, it was your whole ‘normal girl’ thing. But that’s what I’m saying – Jacob’s cool with magic. He’d be cool with the Slayer thing, too. Isn’t that what you wanted, Buffy? Someone who accepted the Slayer stuff?” Willow looked at her earnestly, as though hoping for confirmation that she still understood her best friend. After a pause, she added, “Unless… you’re still hung up on Spike…” “No!” Buffy replied, a little too quickly. “No… no hanging. Spike and I, we’re just… friends.” She caught Tara’s sideways glance and shrugged. It wasn’t like she’d promised him any more than that. She knew what Spike was hoping for, but she’d been clear – she didn’t know when or if she’d ever be ready for that step. ***** I hear the bells Down in the canyon, it’s Snow in New York Some blue December, I’m Gone to the moon… “This is a great song,” Buffy said, taking a sip of her soda and reclining casually against a pillar. At least, she tried to look casual. She felt like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, stock-straight but tipped to one side. She was not nearly relaxed enough for casual leanage. This felt disturbingly like a first date, which was silly, because she’d already been on two dates with Jacob, and this wasn’t even a date. They just ran into each other in the Bronze. Yeah, and Willow was just having eye spasms. “You wanna dance?” Jacob asked her, holding out one hand to escort her onto the dance floor. She shrank back with a fervent shake of her head. “Oh, no, no. That’s okay.” “Right, okay.” He dropped his hand to his glass and fiddled with the straw, bending it and twisting it around itself. “So, I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just gonna, you know, say it. I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided I’m not ready to give up on you just yet.” Buffy stopped drinking and looked at him. “Huh?” “I know that may sound kind of creepy possessive, but if you’ll hear me out, I think you’ll find that it’s totally reasonable. Because here’s the thing: I don’t think you’re ready to give up on me, either.” She glanced around, nervousness preventing her from making eye contact. “I – I don’t know.” “I really like you, Buffy. And if you’re not interested, I understand… but I think you are. So, I’ve decided I’m not giving up yet.” He got very close to her and tilted her chin up so she was forced to look at him. “And I – I feel like there’s something… else, in the way. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’d really like it to go away.” Buffy hesitated. “There’s something I have to tell you.” I hear the bells They are like emeralds and Glints in the night Commas and ampersands Your moony face So inaccessible Your inner mind So inexpressible… “Buffy, I love you. Know that’s not much of a shock, but I want – you need to understand – that is, when I – bloody hell.” Spike whirled around and continued pacing back and forth on the catwalk above the Bronze’s dance floor. He started again. “Look, Slayer, with me movin’ in, I thought we sh– no, don’t call her that. Call her Buffy.” He went to the railing where he’d slung his duster, leaning over, scanning the crowd for her. She was talking to some bloke – couldn’t tell who, couldn’t see his face – and it only strengthened his resolve to get out what he needed to say. He took a deep breath and went back to rehearsing. “Buffy, I know you said you’re not ready yet, but I need you to know I’m not giving up. Remember what you said, ’bout taking control and making our own decisions again? Well, I’ve changed, pet. The thing with Dru… that was really the end of my old life. Nothin’ left to go back to. Nothin’ I’d want to go back to, anyway.” He glanced down at his clothes, the physical symbol of his changes. Instead of the usual outfit, he wore faded jeans and a midnight blue long-sleeved tee just clingy enough to show off his well-sculpted arms and chest. He didn’t understand why one would buy jeans that already looked worn, but Dawn had assured him that was the style, and he trusted her. That was the whole point of bringing her along on their secret shopping excursion earlier in the week – because he clearly had no fashion sense of his own. The last time he’d tried to insert color into his wardrobe for Buffy’s sake, he’d looked like a right ponce. Even now, he felt sort of naked without his trademark black, but in a way, he liked the change. He’d been wearing the same thing for so long he was starting to feel like a Gilligan’s Island reject. “Point is, pet, I wanna be more than just a roommate someday. Don’t wanna make things uncomfortable, but I’m in love with you, love you so much I can’t think, an’ I –” “Um, are you talking to me?” Spike looked over to see a short, dark-haired nerdy kid with a vague air of familiarity about him. For some disturbing reason he didn’t want to explore, a swimsuit calendar came to mind. He growled low in his throat and Jonathan scampered away down the steps. Frustrated, Spike leaned back against the railing. She was still talking to Mr. Not-Long-For-This-World, if Spike had anything to say about it. Not that he could do anything to a human, but it didn’t make him any less jealous. He’d just have to win Buffy over the old-fashioned way. Grabbing his duster, he shoved off the railing and headed downstairs. You snooze, you lose Well I have snost and lost I’m pushing through I’ll disregard the cost “So you… slay things. Vampires.” Jacob furrowed his brow, and Buffy could almost see the gears shifting, processing, perhaps developing this new information into some sort of explanation for the weird-but-normal-for-Sunnydale occurrences that everyone always seemed to forget or ignore. “And demons. And other ghouly, monstery things.” “And your friends help you.” Buffy nodded. “I know it seems totally crazy and you probably think I should be committed –” “No, I don’t.” Buffy looked up and noticed that his eyes were fixed intently on her. “Really?” He pulled her close. “Really.” He dipped his head, capturing her mouth with his. Her arms snaked around his neck as she melted into the kiss and the room disappeared, except for his touch. Hands, pressed lightly on her back, finding their way to the spots her halter top left bare, fingertips gliding over smooth skin. His lips, soft, anxious, eagerly tasting her. Arms encircling her, drawing her against a warm chest that rose and fell with little gasps as he drew in breaths between kisses. Spike stopped short, taking it in like a sucker punch to the gut. He clenched his jaw until his muscles twitched, and took another step forward, his hand balling into a fist of its own volition. A government-sponsored twinge in his skull made him think better of it, and he loosened his fingers and backed away a few stumbling paces, bumping into a young woman who shot him a dirty look and a “Watch where you’re going, asshole.” “Sorry,” he muttered, briefly taking in her appearance – beer sloshed all over her top, probably his fault – before brushing aside three more people who got in his way, with far more force than necessary. He headed straight for the door, breathing in a huge lungful of cool, useless air as soon as he broke free of the throng outside. His stomach churning and his entire body aching for some violence, he headed out into the night. And I can Hear the bells are Ringing joyful and triumphant and I can Hear the bells are Ringing joyful and triumphant and...

Chapter #3 - We Were Dreamers Not So Long Ago

Chapter 3: We Were Dreamers Not So Long Ago “Hey, who’s ready for moving day?” Buffy asked in a chirpy voice as she entered the crypt without knocking. When she got no response, she headed down the ladder to Spike’s lair. His possessions were strewn all over the place, even messier than usual. Dirty clothes on the floor in a semi-circle around the bed, books that had once been stacked in tall piles but had toppled over and been left there, weapons that Spike claimed were left out within easy reach in case of attack, but were really just lying around because he was too lazy to put them back in the coffin he used as a weapons chest. “What’s going on?” she asked, taking in the decidedly not-packed-up crypt. There was no way Spike was just leaving all this stuff here. “You’re supposed to be moving in.” Spike’s voice came from a dark corner. “Decided to stay here instead.” “Why? I thought we had an arrangement.” “Just be in your way.” He emerged from the shadows, obviously drunk, a bottle of something in one hand while his other hand dug around in his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing her another wad of bills. “Take this. Should be enough to cover you for a little while at least.” Buffy backed away in surprise. “Spike! I thought we – I don’t understand.” He looked at her with hooded eyes, his voice a husky growl, his words slightly slurred. “You really fancy explainin’ to your boy what I’m doin’ there?” “My… what are you talking about?” “Saw you with ’im at the Bronze.” She swallowed hard, and her face clouded over with guilt. “Oh.” She didn’t owe him an explanation, not really, but she felt an overwhelming urge to justify herself to him anyway. “It’s not… what you think.” “No?” Spike paused, bottle at his lips. “Looked like his tongue down your throat.” “He – he kissed me, yes. It doesn’t mean he… that we…” Spike stared at her, his eyes hard, but she couldn’t miss the hopefulness he tried to hide. “Then you won’t be datin’ him again?” Buffy froze, her lips parted to respond, but unable to give him the answer he wanted. “I – I don’t know.” She watched Spike’s face fall. “We’re not together now… but he likes me, and I – I don’t know… maybe…” Spike nodded, a “that figures” expression on his face. “So, when you say you don’t want a relationship right now, what you mean is, you don’t want a relationship with me, right?” “Spike, it’s not –” She cut off her protestations with a sigh, realizing that he was right, and he wasn’t going to allow her to let him down easy. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t… love you the way you want me to. It’s just –” “No, you’re not, Slayer, so don’t look at me like you just killed my puppy,” Spike snapped. He’d been on the receiving end of rejection too many times for her apologies and excuses to cushion the blow. “Don’t want your pity.” Buffy’s head dropped into her hands, rubbing furiously at her eyes and her temples. “I didn’t… forget what you said. Before, about being the Slayer and – and needing someone who…” She took a breath. “I told him. I told Jacob.” Spike busied himself with peeling the label off his bottle, balling up the bits of paper and throwing them on the floor. “How’d he take it?” “Really well, actually.” Spike snorted. “Yeah. Soldier boy took it well, too. Right up ’til he developed that big ol’ inferiority complex and had to get his rocks off with vampire whores.” He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that he was going to pay for it. But she’d hurt him so badly, and maybe she didn’t intend to, but how was he supposed to feel, watching her kiss that blighter? Like having his guts ripped out, and he’d never been the type to sit back and let himself get thrashed. He couldn’t hit her with his fists, so he had to hurt her with words. The anger surged up in her so quickly that Buffy had already punched him before she could decide whether she was really mad at Spike for saying it or Riley for doing it in the first place. “Don’t you – Leave him out of this!” His head snapped back with her blow, and he shook it off slowly. “You’re right. Why learn from your mistakes when you can just make ’em all over again?” “Riley wasn’t a mistake!” “Is that so?” Spike made a show of looking around his crypt. “He’s not here though, is he, pet?” Buffy’s rage boiled up under her skin, making her face flush. She fought it down, knowing he was deliberately provoking her. It would be easier for him if he could hate her, if she could just beat the affection of out him, but she knew by now that there was no limit to his love, and testing it would only make them both unhappy. “There is a demon-summoning warlock out there stalking me,” she said, her voice low and intense. “I have a reporter trying to get the scoop on the Slayer, I can’t feed my little sister, or keep a roof over our heads, and not too long ago, my best friend tried to kill me in a vivid hallucination!” Her tone had risen until she was nearly shouting by the end, both out of frustration and an attempt to conceal the tremble of the tears she was holding back. Spike couldn’t respond, momentarily too stunned that she’d called him her best friend to process anything else. “So, no – maybe this isn’t the right decision. Maybe I’m fooling myself. But I don’t care,” Buffy said, realizing as she said it that her mind was more made up than she’d thought. She wasn’t stupid. She knew this wouldn’t solve her problems, and might even make them worse. But she wanted it. Wanted this guy. This life. “I am hanging on by a thread here, and I just want to be able to pretend – just for a little while – that I’m like every other girl. So, please, let me have this.” “Fine,” Spike replied shortly. “Hope you enjoy your little fantasy.” They stood in awkward silence for a moment, then Buffy ventured, “So… I guess that’s it, then. You’re not moving in.” “Got that right,” he scoffed. More seriously, he added, “Look, Slayer, coulda handled you wantin’ to stay just friends. But this? Not gonna take a front-row seat to you bein’ with somebody else.” “I know.” She drew in a breath. “I know. I should go.” “Take the money.” Spike held out the cash again. “I – I can’t accept this, Spike. It’s not fair.” He thrust his hand at her with more force. “Take it, so your goddamned sister doesn’t starve.” She looked at it for a moment, then snatched it out of his hand as though once she’d decided, she couldn’t bear to spend time dwelling on the transaction. She shoved the wad of bills in her pocket and hurried up the ladder, her face a portrait of self-loathing. As she disappeared upstairs, Spike drained the last few swallows from his bottle of Jack, then, with an anguished growl, dashed the bottle against the crypt wall. ***** “That’s crazy. So, we’re actually on a Hellmouth? Like, right now, we’re just standing on the mouth of hell. Just hanging out, and hey – there’s hell.” “Well, technically, it’s under the high school,” Buffy corrected Jacob with a smile. “But yeah, you’ve got the general principle.” “And that’s where all the vampires and demons come from.” “They don’t actually come out of the Hellmouth. They’re kind of drawn here, by the evil.” “Like moths to a flame,” Jacob mused. “Evil moths. Evil flame. So, this is the Magic Box,” she said, stopping outside the shop. “Our friend Anya runs it. She’s an ex-vengeance demon, and she gets a little upset if you say something species-ist, so just be careful about that, okay?” As they headed inside, she continued, “This is kind of our headquarters, where we do research and plan and stuff.” “It’s also a place of business,” Anya chimed in. “Please buy something.” “That would be Anya.” Buffy stopped short as she realized the man whose purchases Anya was ringing up was Spike. She hadn’t seen him in the two days since their argument, and she really wished the first time didn’t have to be when Jacob was with her. It would seem like a deliberate slap in the face. But there was nothing to be done about it now. “Hi,” she said hesitantly. Jacob flashed Anya a smile, which quickly died away when he caught sight of Spike’s scowl trained on him. “Spike,” he said, uncertainty in his voice. Spike opened his mouth to make a vicious retort, but Buffy’s pleading expression stopped him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so softly that only his vampire hearing would pick it up. “Please, not here.” He ran his eyes over her, his expression never changing. “Yeah,” he muttered, snatching up his bag. “Thank you for not stealing!” Anya said to his retreating back. “And have a nice –” The basement door slammed shut. “…day.” “The funny thing?” said Xander, reaching into a bakery box for a doughnut. “That was Spike being friendly.” “This is Xander.” Buffy led Jacob over to the cluttered research table. “He’s Anya’s fiancé, and one of my best friends. He and Willow have been fighting vampires with me ever since I came to Sunnydale.” “Hey, man, good to meet ya,” Xander said, wiping powdered sugar on his jeans before shaking Jacob’s hand. “You fight vampires, too?” Jacob asked him. “What’s your special power?” The other man looked sheepish. “Oh, uh…” “Xander doesn’t need special powers,” Buffy jumped in. “He holds his own without any kind of powers.” “I also provide much needed humor and carpentry,” he said with a smile. Jacob leaned over and said, “So, tell me honestly, from one regular guy to another. Am I in over my head?” Xander laughed. “I think we all are, a little bit, but Buffy’s got our backs.” “That’s ’cause you guys’ve got mine.” She gave him a grateful look, and then turned back to Jacob. “Okay, come on, I’ll show you the back.” Buffy took hold of Jacob’s hand and towed him toward the back room. “And this is the training room, where I… train.” She watched as he marveled at her assortment of weapons and training equipment. “Well, that’s everything. That’s the full tour.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many pointy weapons in one room before.” “That’s just because you haven’t seen my bedroom yet.” Realizing what she said, Buffy turned a bright shade of pink. “That… wasn’t supposed to be sexy.” “Duly noted.” He grinned at her. “So, you’ve got Willow and Tara, Xander and Anya, your what’s-it… Watcher, Giles, your sister…” “Yep, that’s the gang. The Scoobies. I think Xander came up with the name back in high school.” “Where does Spike fit in?” She opened her mouth, but it took her a moment to recover her voice. “Spike? Uh, well, he’s kind of the muscle… I mean, sometimes he does research, too, but he’s really more of the fighting type.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “He, uh, has super strength like me, which is why I ask him to look out for Dawn a lot.” “So, he’s kind of a guy Slayer?” “Nooo, not… quite. He’s… different.” She hurried to the door. “Look, I don’t really wanna talk about Spike. Why don’t we go back out to the store?” As she escorted him out, they found Giles waiting for them. “Buffy, I’m glad you’re here.” “Hey, Giles. This is Jacob. Jacob, Giles, my Watcher.” “Pleased to meet you, sir,” Jacob said, extending his hand. Giles shook it, a look of puzzlement on his face. “Who – who are you?” “We’re kinda dating,” Buffy reminded him. “This is our second first date. He’s coming over to cook dinner, but I wanted to bring him around to meet the gang first.” “Ah, yes, of course,” Giles replied, still seeming troubled by the young man’s presence. “Well, it’s lovely to, uh… Buffy, may I speak to you for a moment?” “If this is the secret identity talk again, save it. The people who are in my life have a right to know who I am.” Giles looked mildly startled, but he nodded. “Yes, of course, Buffy. If you feel it’s… anyway, there is another matter. This is – well, I’ve spoken to the Council, and – they asked me to give you this.” He held out a plain white envelope. Buffy’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What is this, more ridiculous orders from on high, destined to get me killed? Or maybe a letter of recommendation for my next temp job? ‘Slays well with others, but has difficulty with authority.’” “There aren’t going to be any more temp jobs,” he replied. “I mean, unless you particularly enjoyed them…” He trailed off at her expression of wonder. “Giles, what – is this what…?” He nodded. “Your first paycheck. Go on, open it.” “All right, Buff. It’s about time!” said Xander. “Oh, Giles…” She tore open the envelope and looked at the check. “I can’t believe this.” “I had hoped to get it to you sooner,” Giles explained. “When you first came to me about your money troubles. But it took a bit of work to convince the Council, of course.” Buffy’s face broke into a huge grin and she threw her arms around him, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Giles… I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” ***** “You gonna put that in the bank, or just look at it?” Buffy glanced up from the breakfast bar, where her fingers were tracing the edges of her paycheck. “I’m thinking of framing it. If it weren’t for all those bills…” “Hard to spend when it’s hanging on the wall,” Jacob pointed out, chopping vegetables for dinner. “You don’t realize what this is… The Watchers’ Council – well, they’ve always seen the Slayer as their property, a weapon. Not much better than a slave, really. To actually get a paycheck, it’s…” “Pretty special. But from what Willow told me, it sounds like you’ve always been a pretty special Slayer.” Buffy snatched a piece of carrot from the cutting board and popped it in her mouth. “What’s Will been saying?” “How you’re different from all the other Slayers, because you have friends and family, and you let them help you. You do things your way, instead of taking orders.” “I’m her favorite Slayer. She likes to brag.” “You’re my favorite, too,” he said, leaning over for a kiss. He could feel her smile under his lips, and he kissed her again. They’d just started to gravitate towards each other, lips parting as the kiss deepened, when the slamming of the front door interrupted them. “Hey, Dawnie,” Buffy greeted her sister as she stomped into the kitchen. “You remember Jacob, right?” “We met briefly,” said Jacob. “When I picked your sister up for a date?” “Hi,” Dawn said suspiciously. “It’s nice to see you again, Dawn,” Jacob tried. “Yeah.” She turned to go but Buffy stopped her. “How was school?” “The usual. Pain, death, boredom.” Buffy nodded with the sage wisdom of experience. “Well, that’s high school on the Hellmouth. Don’t go anywhere. Jacob’s making dinner tonight.” “I’m not hungry.” “Dawn…” Buffy warned. “I’m not hungry!” “We’ll be right back,” she told Jacob, grabbing Dawn by the elbow and dragging her out to the living room. “You’re hurting me,” Dawn whined, yanking her arm out of Buffy’s grasp. “Non-superpowers girl here, remember?” “This is a nice gesture that Jacob’s doing. Would you try to act like you appreciate it?” “I’m really just not hungry. Spike just took me for ice cream.” Buffy sighed. Of course he did. Leave it to Spike to manage indirect sabotage of a perfectly good evening. “Would you please just be nice? For me?” Dawn crossed her arms over he chest. “Is he the reason Spike’s not moving in?” “That was Spike’s decision, not mine.” “It’s because of him.” Buffy hesitated. “Yes.” “I’d rather have Spike.” “Spike will still be around. You haven’t even given Jacob a chance,” Buffy insisted. “Please, Dawn. Don’t make this hard.” She gave her sister a knowing smile. “There’s something in the kitchen I think you’ll want to see.” Dawn looked grumpy, but curious. “What?” “Guess who’s finally getting paid for being a Slayer.” Dawn squealed. “No!” “Yes!” Buffy swept her up in a hug and spun her around. “Giles gave me my first paycheck.” “Can we go shopping?” “Dinner first.” ***** Spike was already well on his way to an alcohol-induced haze, so he wasn’t aware that a woman had approached him until a familiar voice said, “Is this seat taken?” He glanced up to see Susan Rodriguez leaning coyly on the bar stool next to him. He raised one eyebrow and gestured for her to take it, so she slid onto the stool, conspicuously brushing against him as she did. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Spike asked, gazing around at the mostly demon patrons of the bar. “I’m a reporter,” she replied, her voice like honey. “I go where the story is. But your concern is appreciated.” Straightening her posture, she added in a more aloof tone, “And by the way, I made it out of the woods just fine after that demon attack. Thanks for asking.” Spike shrugged. “Got a bit distracted that night. ’Sides, I figure Buffy woulda said something if you hadn’t shown up for work.” “Mmm, and how are things with Buffy lately?” she asked. “She come to her senses yet?” Spike ground his teeth, wondering if she knew, if Buffy had mentioned the new boyfriend at the newspaper office, and Susan was using it to get what she wanted. “Not as such, no.” “Shame.” He felt her hand slide up his thigh, and then a gentle squeeze sent an involuntary pulse of desire to his groin. Spike eyed her appraisingly. “If it’s a story you’re after, pet, I’m not feeling very chatty.” Susan smiled and leaned in close enough so that he could feel her hot breath on his neck, her other hand resting on his back. “I’m not looking for information.” Her fingers tightened again on his thigh. “All right, then,” Spike replied, his jaw set with determination. He turned his head toward her, and his face lit up with a charming, seductive smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Chapter #4 - Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Chapter 4: Tidings of Comfort and Joy Buffy pounded her fists into the punching bag in the training room, really letting loose and causing the bag to swing violently, the chain it hung from creaking. She was so absorbed in her workout that she didn’t hear the door at all. It wasn’t until she felt the familiar sensation at the back of her neck that she paused her assault and turned around. “Thought you might want some practice hitting something that’s not standing still,” Spike said. “Didn’t expect you to show. After…” He shrugged. “Not one to hold a grudge.” She stared at him. “What are you talking about? You always hold a grudge. You held a grudge against me for years! You could rival Xander as the king of grudginess.” “Yeah, you caught me. I was trying to bond with you.” Spike smiled at her, loose-limbed and nonchalant after spending the night with Susan. It had been over a year since Harmony left him, and he’d been so obsessed with Buffy that he’d forgotten how a good shag could take the edge off. He was finding the whole new boyfriend situation exponentially easier to deal with today. Buffy blinked in surprise, thrown by Spike’s sudden return to friendliness, but she certainly wasn’t about to look this gift horse in the mouth. His smile slid into a smirk as he shucked his coat and assumed a ready stance. “Wanna dance, Slayer?” ***** “Welcome to the Magic Box!” Anya said brightly. “How may I help… oh, it’s you.” Jacob smiled. “Sorry to disappoint. Just looking for Buffy.” “She’s in the back, training with Spike.” “Oh, uh, yeah,” said Jacob, taking a seat at the table next to Xander. A fresh box of doughnuts had replaced the one from yesterday, and he helped himself to a jelly when Xander offered them to him. “I guess that makes sense. With the super strength and all.” “Yeah, the kind of sense that’s not,” Xander replied. “I’m still firmly of the opinion that we should be killing the vampires, not playing with them.” Jacob paused, doughnut halfway to his mouth, working that thought out to its logical conclusion. “Wait – Spike’s a vampire?” Xander stared at him. “Yeah. Buffy didn’t tell you?” “No, she must have forgotten to mention that.” There was an edge to Jacob’s voice as he started pulling his doughnut apart, leaving the pieces uneaten on a napkin. “Oh, yeah, he’s all fangy and creature-of-the-night-ish.” “I don’t understand – Buffy’s a vampire slayer, but she has one as part of her Scooby gang?” “We've just stopped asking those questions,” Anya told him. “Except for Xander. He's got a club, if you want to join. A ‘We Hate Spike’ club.” “We’re getting jackets made,” Xander deadpanned. “Oh…” Jacob trailed off into silence, looking intently at the training room door. ***** Buffy charged at Spike, throwing punches that he deflected with movements so fast she barely saw them. She tried for a spinning kick, but Spike knocked her aside with relative ease. “Shouldn’t that hurt you?” she asked, stopping to catch her breath. “Hardly took any effort,” he replied critically. “Now, come at me again, and this time, don’t telegraph your punches.” She went into a roundhouse, but collapsed as a spasm of pain hit her mid-kick. “Oh – oh, God – ow!” “Slayer, what is it?” asked Spike, dropping to the floor at her side. “Cramp. Muscle. Ow!” “Where?” Buffy pointed to her left thigh. Spike laid his hands carefully on her leg and began to massage it. She jerked in pain at his touch. “Hold still, Slayer!” he commanded. He knelt on her shin and grabbed her left shoulder with one hand to keep her from moving. He kneaded her muscles, tentatively at first, then with more force as he recognized that she wasn’t going to slug him for inappropriate touching. “Ow – God – fuck, Spike! It hurts!” She squeezed her eyes shut but a few tears manage to escape. “Didn’t warm up first, did you?” “Slayer muscles, remember? Supposed to be ready to go at all times.” “Still, wouldn’t kill you to stretch a bit.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “You just wanna see me do another split – ow!” She dug her nails into Spike’s shoulder, gritting her teeth against the pain as his fingers coaxed her muscles out of contraction. “Buffy?” Jacob said from the doorway, noting with alarm the position of the vampire on top of his girlfriend, who was quite obviously in pain. Xander’s comments echoed in his mind, bringing hidden fears to the surface. He also caught himself feeling a twinge of jealousy at their closeness. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, just a leg cramp.” She brushed a rough hand across her cheek, obliterating the tears. Spike, meanwhile, had leapt to his feet and was looking at Jacob with a vaguely guilty expression. He remembered his chivalry and offered Buffy a hand to help her up, just as Jacob reached out to do the same. Buffy looked from one to the other and then stood up without any assistance. “I think it’s… good now,” she said, extending her leg tentatively. She spun and did a few experimental kicks. “Yep, good as new.” “Think maybe we should call it a day, Slayer,” said Spike, but he was looking at Jacob as he said it. “But we only just started.” “Spike’s right,” said Jacob. “You don’t want to hurt yourself. Besides, Dawn’s probably home by now. I thought we could do something, you know, the three of us.” Buffy’s face broke out into a smile. He actually wanted to spend more time with her sister after she was sullen and rude all through last night’s dinner? “You’re too sweet,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. Saintly was more like it. With a wave back at Spike, she headed out of the training room, Jacob following behind. Spike watched them leave with a scowl on his face, realizing that his post-coital tolerance had completely disappeared, only to be replaced with the same bitter jealousy as before. ***** “How come you didn’t tell me Spike was a vampire?” Jacob asked on the walk home. “Wh-who’s a what now?” Buffy stammered in surprise. “Xander let it slip. He figured you would’ve mentioned it.” He kicked at a rock in his path. “Actually, I thought you would’ve mentioned it, too.” “I’m sorry. It’s just… I didn’t know how you’d react. Spike’s… well, he’s different. He’s got a chip in his head, so he can’t hurt humans.” “A chip?” “Behavioral modification chip,” Buffy explained. “Government experiment. He gets his brain zapped if he tries to hurt someone.” Jacob stopped and looked at her, his expression serious. “And that’s good enough for you? You trust him?” She nodded. “He’s helped us out, more times than I can count. And he had the opportunity to kill me, and he didn’t, so –” “I thought you said he couldn’t hurt anyone,” Jacob interrupted. Buffy hesitated. “He – he can’t. I… offered him my blood once. It doesn’t hurt if the person’s willing, so…” She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. There were details about that bite that she didn’t want to share. “He could’ve drained me if he’d wanted to, but he stopped. So, yeah, I do trust him.” She gave him a smile and started walking again, but Jacob wasn’t soothed. The idea of Spike biting Buffy only did more to put him on edge, rather than assure him that the vampire wasn’t dangerous. ***** “Tara? I’m home.” “In here,” the voice replied from their bedroom. Willow walked in to see Tara lying on her stomach, her head at the foot of the bed, studying an open textbook. She looked up as Willow came in. “How’s Giles?” “Okay.” She perched on the edge of the bed and rubbed Tara’s back. “He was kinda disappointed that stuff I was translating isn’t anything useful for this demon summoner guy.” “He couldn’t find anything?” Willow shook her head. “It’s all rituals and spells and stuff, but everything’s so vague, it’s impossible to know what it’s used for without more details.” “I’m sorry, baby. That sucks.” Willow stretched out on the bed next to her, assuming an identical position, leaning on her elbows. “He gave me this other notebook to work on. It’s gonna be so hard… it’s in Russian! I don’t speak Russian! I’ve gotta get a dictionary. And it’s from the 17th century and the pages are all crumbly and there’s all these notes in the margins which I think are in German –” Tara’s lips pressed against hers, cutting her off mid-babble. “Oh,” Willow whimpered, her mouth curving into a smile as Tara ran a hand through her soft red hair. “Don’t fret, sweetie,” said Tara. “I know this is important, but you’ve got enough to think about the next couple weeks.” “Hanukkah?” “Finals.” “Ohhhh.” Willow rolled over on her back, gripped her throat with both hands and made gagging noises. Tara giggled. “I thought you liked tests. What happened to ‘academia is my mother’s milk’?” “That was before I had evil Dr. Markovich and his evil historiography. Now I’m all, ‘No, please, don’t hurt me with your obscure essay questions!’ I swear, that final’s gonna kill me.” She screwed up her face into a thoughtful expression. “You’re sure I can’t just turn him into a frog?” “It’s kinda frowned upon.” Willow rolled onto her side facing Tara and propped herself up on one elbow. “I’m gonna learn all that stuff.” “Historiography?” “No, magic, silly. All the rules and stuff. The things you know.” “Have you heard any more about your teacher?” Willow broke into an excited smile. “Yeah, Giles just told me today. A woman named Emma is coming over here; he’s arranged everything. She’s a fantastic witch, and she’s going to tutor me, as soon as finals are over.” “That’s great,” Tara replied. She wanted to encourage Willow in this endeavor. She, like Giles, had sensed that Willow’s ability was far outpacing her study of magic, until Willow was wielding power she didn’t understand. She had never taken much interest in Wicca as a religion; rather, she saw magic as an extension of the world she knew – spells as poetry, chemistry, and computer programming, all rolled into one. It was clinical, it was simple, and it left no space for the spiritual depth that Tara had been brought up practicing. She didn’t comprehend that when they played around with magic, they were messing with forces of the universe – forces that had repercussions, that could change things and turn spells against them. Willow had had her fair share of mistakes in magic, but she never seemed to learn that her actions had consequences. Maybe this new teacher would help. “Baby?” said Willow. Tara glanced up, realizing she’d been in her own world. “Hmm?” “You’re not… mad, are you? That I’m gonna be doing this new thing?” “Why would I be mad?” Willow shrugged. “Not mad. I don’t know… jealous, maybe? I mean, I don’t want it to be like I get this new magic thing and you don’t. You’re a witch, too.” “Oh, sweetie, no. This’ll be good for you. There’s so much you can learn – I’m excited for you.” She shifted over and wrapped her arms around Willow. “I’m really happy this is happening for you. I want you to grow in your magic, and the things you’re gonna learn will be things we can share, things to make our magic better together.” Willow nuzzled against her, burrowing into the hollow of her neck. “We make pretty good magic together right now,” she murmured, sliding her hand along the curve of Tara’s hip and following the waistband of her jeans around to the front. Tara let out a soft moan in response, and reached up to slam her textbook shut. Willow rolled the two of them over, so that she was on top of her lover, and began kissing her way down Tara’s chest and stomach, until she reached the spot below her navel where her hands were unbuttoning and unzipping and sliding soft denim down to reveal more kissable skin. ***** “Dawn?” Buffy shouted as she opened the front door. “What?” came the reply from upstairs. “Come down here. We rented movies.” “We?” Dawn appeared at the top of the stairs. “Oh. You and Jacob.” “You, too,” said Jacob. “I mean, we got stuff we thought you’d like. Pizza, too.” “What’d you get?” “The Mexican... Save the Last Dance...” “A Knight’s Tale?” Dawn asked, thawing a little. Jacob held it up, and her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. Buffy noted it with relief. “I’ll get plates and stuff. You guys pick a movie.” “So, which shall we go with?” Jacob asked her, dropping the pizza on the coffee table and crouching near the DVD player. Dawn plopped herself down on the sofa and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re not the first human she’s dated, you know,” she said, apropos of nothing, but doing her best to cause a stir. He straightened up slowly, looking at her with curiosity. “I’m not the – what? Does – does she date… other species?” His curiosity gave way to insecurity before he finished the sentence. “Sometimes vampires.” Dawn was nonchalant. “Actually, I think she prefers vampires.” “Right. Except for the part where she kills them.” He bit back his next words as his thoughts alighted on the one vampire that seemed to get a free pass around the Slayer. Sure enough, Dawn gave voice to his thoughts. “She doesn’t kill all of them.” “So I’m told.” Jacob didn’t know about Angel, of course, and Dawn didn’t bother to tell him. If Spike was the only vampire Jacob knew of that Buffy didn’t kill, it certainly wasn’t her fault if he jumped to conclusions, right? They were still facing off against one another when Buffy came back in with plates, cups, and a bottle of soda. “So, are we dancing, jousting, or, uh, doing something with Brad Pitt and a gun?” Jacob turned to look at her with a peculiar expression on his face. “We hadn’t actually decided yet.” “Gun,” said Dawn, in a cold, unfriendly tone. “Okay then.” Buffy set down her load next to the pizza and fixed her best Mom-stare on her little sister. “Be. Nice,” she whispered through gritted teeth. ***** “I’m sorry she’s such a pain,” Buffy said, as she and Jacob brought the remains of dinner back into the kitchen after the movie. “She’s just, you know, moody teenager.” She dumped the dishes in the sink. “I’m intruding,” said Jacob. “You guys had this whole routine, and I’m the new guy. I understand. I felt the same way when my mom started dating after the divorce.” “She was never like this when Mom dated. That can go back in the fridge,” Buffy said, handing him the soda bottle. Jacob put it away and closed the refrigerator door, a troubled expression on his face. “There’s blood in your fridge.” Buffy bit her lip. She had forgotten that they’d stocked up when Spike was planning to move in. “Uh, yeah, about that…” “Either you’re incredibly prepared for an emergency transfusion, or Spike’s spending an awful lot of time here.” She gave him an awkward smile. “Well, you know, always be prepared. Boy scout motto.” Jacob leaned on the breakfast bar next to Buffy. He had a pretty good idea why Dawn’s acceptance was so hard to win – his mother’s boyfriends had always had to compete with his image of his father. Only, in this case, the opposition seemed to come in the form of one particular vampire. “I hate to be that guy, Buffy, but do you think it’s such a good idea for Spike to be hanging around so much?” “Oh, because of Dawn? You know, Xander says the same thing – Big Bad no good for little sis. But they get along really well and –” “Not just because of Dawn.” Buffy turned serious. “He really wouldn’t hurt anybody. He can’t.” Jacob nodded, turning away from Buffy and staring into space. “I just feel like it’s awkward, you know? Having your ex around all the time.” “My ex? What – how –” she sputtered. “Spike’s not my ex!” “He’s not?” He turned back to look at her. “Dawn made it seem…” Buffy shook her head vehemently. “Spike and I have never been… involved.” She thought for a moment. “Oh, except – we were engaged once. But that was a spell. And I guess we almost –” She cut herself off, thinking the less she explained, the better. “Anyway, Spike is definitely not my ex.” “Oh.” Jacob paused. “So, you’ve dated other vampires?”

Chapter #5 - Deck the Halls

Chapter 5: Deck the Halls “Are you ready for this?” Buffy asked Jacob as they approached the cemetery gates. “I want to see what you do.” Buffy started into the graveyard, Jacob following behind after a moment’s hesitation. “Mostly I just walk around, look for open graves, signs of a newly risen vamp. Sometimes we hear about the victims ahead of time, in the newspaper or something. Willow’s kind of a whiz with the morgue records and the police reports on the computer.” “Is that legal?” “Not… technically.” “Oh. Right. So, what’s on the agenda for tonight? Anybody to look out for?” Buffy shook her head. “Just regular old keep-your-eyes-peeled patrol.” She shrugged. “I also have a kind of tingly spider sense thing, lets me know when vampires are nearby.” “That’s handy.” She ducked under a low-hanging tree branch. “Yeah, especially since they don’t breathe or have a pulse or anything else that might make noise and alert you that they’re…” She trailed off, her head tilted to the side, one hand raised in a “stop” gesture. Then, she nodded in a direction and headed off that way, with Jacob on her heels. She tracked the vampire for a few yards before stopping abruptly and turning around. “You know what? Why don’t we check out Shady Hill instead?” “Isn’t there a vampire over there?” Jacob pointed in the direction she’d been moving. Buffy grabbed his arm and started hauling him back to the gates. “There are twelve cemeteries in Sunnydale. I’m sure we’ll find plenty to do tonight.” He didn’t try to protest, but as he glanced back over his shoulder, he thought he saw a glimpse of platinum blond in the bushes behind them. ***** Spike smirked. Taking the lad out for his initiation. Maybe he’d get lucky and some beastie would sneak past the Slayer and off the poor sod. Not that he was advocating any such thing – he’d considered paying a demon to do the honors, but he’d felt a twinge from the chip just counting out the money. Or maybe that was guilt he felt, he wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, killing the blighter was out, but if it just happened to occur on its own, he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. He couldn’t help noticing how the Slayer was giving him a wide berth tonight, doubtless to avoid any conflict that might come up if he and Jacob got together. He’d felt a little thrill go up his spine when he first caught her scent on the night breeze. It had been a while since he’d patrolled with her, and he missed their time together. Nothing better than ripping heads off demons with the love of his unlife. But it seemed that tonight was not to be his night. He sniffed out the intruding male just before he heard her usher him away. For a moment, he thought about following them, tracking them from just far enough away that he wouldn’t alert Buffy’s senses. Or maybe he’d let her know he was there but stay in the shadows, just out of sight. Wouldn’t that drive her mad, knowing he was right there, watching her and her boy, every move they made? No, he decided, slumping a little. It’d probably just tick her off, and she’d ferret him out and yell at him for stalking her again. And that was the last thing he needed, her thinking he was just like he was last year. He’d changed, hadn’t he? No more being a creep. Taking a disgruntled punt at the nearest headstone, he loped off to patrol his own turf, muttering bitter things about Jacob under his breath. ***** She was beautiful. He’d always found her attractive – he’d thought she was pretty from the moment they met. He adored the way her smile lit up her entire face, admired the mixture of delicacy and strength that was evident in her movements, appreciated the way her clothes clung to her frame, accentuating the petite curves of her body. But he’d never realized quite how beautiful she really was until he watched her in the graveyard. She moved with a feral grace, seeming to engage her opponent in a fearsome dance to which only she knew the steps. Her arms and legs arced in fluid motion, landing kicks and punches with refined dexterity. There was an elegance to her that was glorious to watch, despite the grittiness of a fight to the death. Jacob was mesmerized as her body absorbed blows with ease and delivered them back tenfold. She seemed boneless, and yet rock solid, besting the vampire with superior strength and skill that lent her an air of unmatchable self-confidence. Watching her from the sidelines, he was completely in her thrall. Until the vampire burst into nothing and his mouth gaped open in shock. “I know, it’s kinda weird the first time you see it,” she said, coming over to him, brushing dust off her clothes. “But you’ll get used to it. Trust me. My friends had that same face the first time they saw a vamp get dusted. Now it’s practically second nature to them.” She stopped and looked up at him, a shade of uncertainty in her expression, as if she feared it might be too much for him to handle. “So… what’d you think?” He gazed back at her with loving eyes, one hand coming to rest cupping her cheek. “Incredible,” he said softly. ***** “This is turning into a habit,” Susan remarked playfully, as Spike escorted her out of Willy’s for the third night in a row. “Didn’t hear any complaints,” he growled low in her ear, sending a flood of heat through her. As soon as they’d ducked into the alley, she pulled him back against the wall and kissed him. “No complaints,” she murmured, realizing as he ground into her that they weren’t even going to make it back to her place tonight. Spike’s hand slid up her skirt, and she reached down to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his fly. “God, whatever she’s doing to make you jealous, I hope she keeps it up.” Spike froze, stilling his hands and pulling his mouth away from her neck. “Oh, come on. You didn’t think I was stupid, did you?” Susan asked, wrapping her hand around his erection. “You’re only here because you think you’re getting back at Buffy.” She started to stroke him firmly. “Hey, that’s fine. I’m having a good time. Aren’t you?” Finally, Spike began to move again, kissing and nibbling at her throat as he lifted her up against the wall and slid inside her. “Yeah,” he breathed, gripping her tightly and thrusting into her. “Yeah, I’m havin’ a good time.” ***** Later that night, with Susan spooned against his chest as they lay together in her bed, Spike asked, “Did you mean what you said earlier?” “What?” Susan mumbled, half asleep. “This being about Buffy. You really don’t mind?” Susan rolled over so that she was facing him. “Do I mind?” She let out a low chuckle. “As long as you keep doing what you’re doing…” She paused to kiss his throat. “I’m not worried about the details.” Spike fell silent, gently running his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm, a vaguely guilty expression on his face. “Do you have a problem with it?” she asked him. “You’re not cheating on her.” “Know that,” Spike replied, rolling onto his back so that she could climb on top of him, a tacit acceptance of the situation. “Just doesn’t seem fair to you.” Sitting astride his hips, Susan bent down to kiss him again, her fingers running through his hair, which now showed at least a half-inch of dark roots beneath the platinum curls. “I told you, Spike, I’m not stupid. You’re hurting, and that means this isn’t going to last very long. I’ll take what I can get.” He smirked like he was fully aware of his sexual prowess, but she could see the insecure “why am I worth it?” in his eyes, betraying just how much he measured himself by Buffy’s standards. “You’re not the freak she makes you think you are,” Susan said, sitting back and sliding down onto his hardened cock. Spike closed his eyes, and a moan escaped his lips as she began to ride him, running her hands over his chest. “Girl doesn’t know what normal is.” She gasped as Spike clutched her hips and arched up into her. “And thank God for that.” ***** Deck the halls with boughs of holly Fa la la la la la la la la 'Tis the season to be jolly Fa la la la la la la la la “Turn that down, will you?” Dawn lowered the volume on the stereo a fraction on her way out of the living room, while Buffy dug around in between the sofa cushions, shoving aside boxes of Christmas decorations, until she unearthed her ringing cell phone. “Hi, Buffy, what’s up?” “Will?” Buffy held the phone out and looked at it, then put it back to her ear. “You don’t sound too good.” “I have a sinus cold.” She paused and Buffy heard a faint sneeze in the background. “I am uber-sexy right now.” “Really? I'm rarely sexy with a sinus cold.” “Oh, yeah. But only over the phone.” Buffy giggled. It was true; Willow’s voice was in a husky lower register than normal. “I have that phone sex voice thing going. In person I'm a little less hot.” Buffy was about to respond when she was distracted by the sight of Spike, holding their undecorated Christmas tree in one hand, kicking it repeatedly. “What did it do, insult your mother?” she asked him. “It wouldn’t stand up straight,” Dawn explained as she came back up from the basement with another box of Christmas stuff. “Huh?” said Willow, trying to figure out what was going on at the other end of the phone. “Sorry,” Buffy said. “Nothing. Spike.” She gave the vampire and her sister a last dubious look as she backed away into the kitchen. “So, are you studying for exams?” “Yeah. I’m at the Espresso Pump. There is the most obnoxiously loud family here and –” Willow cut herself off as she heard Spike bellowing in the background, “Bloody hell! One light goes out, they all go out!” “What was that?” Buffy leaned on the breakfast bar, massaging her forehead with one hand. “Spike. He and Dawn are trimming the Christmas tree.” “Oh, that’s fun.” “Yeah, and with Xander on the roof doing the outside lights, it’s like Attack of the Demented Elves around here.” She rolled her eyes. “So, anyway, finish your story, Will.” “There’s this annoying family in here, and the kids are crying, and I can’t get any work done. And they’re from out of town! Tourists shouldn’t be allowed in the Espresso Pump.” Buffy picked up a napkin and started absentmindedly tearing it into strips. “Tourists really shouldn’t be allowed anywhere in Sunnydale. Don’t they know this is a Hellmouth? I mean, are they trying to get killed?” “The Espresso Pump is for locals,” Willow said, continuing her rant. “For those of us who live here and would like our daily jolt of caffeine in peace. They should put up a sign: Tourists Not Welcome. And under it, one that says, UC Sunnydale students only.” “Will?” She heard Willow sigh on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, I need to cut back on the caffeine.” Suddenly, the house was plunged into darkness. Even though it was Sunday afternoon, the curtains were drawn for Spike’s sake, and the loss of electricity was very noticeable. Before Buffy had a chance to question anyone, Xander came through the house and headed towards the basement. “Get a flashlight, Buff. I blew a fuse.” Buffy glanced from the basement door where Xander had disappeared to the kitchen entrance where Spike and Dawn were peering at her, their own decorating disrupted by the lack of power. “Uh, Will, I gotta go. Good luck with everything!” “Yeah, you, too…” Willow said, starting to feel better about the Espresso Pump as a peaceful work environment. Once Xander had managed to get the power back on, Dawn came to fetch her sister. “Buffy, we’re ready for ornaments.” Buffy followed her out to the living room, where “Joy to the World” emanated from the stereo and a completely unnecessary but festive blaze danced in the fireplace. She smiled, remembering how her mother always liked to light a fire during the Christmas season, defying the southern California weather in the name of holiday spirit. Taking a deep breath of wood smoke and pine needles, she admired the tree – which was upright, if a little worse for wear. “How’d you get it to stand up?” “Bolted it to the wall,” Spike said, bursting with pride. Buffy bent over the sofa, sifting through the boxes of ornaments. Trimming the Christmas tree was a tradition in the Summers household, made bittersweet by the vivid absence of their mother. She pulled out a red construction paper cutout of a child’s hand and turned to Dawn. “What is this?” she asked, holding it up. “Were you deformed as a child, or just artistically challenged?” In response, Dawn rooted through the boxes until she found one of Buffy’s ornaments – a miniature kite made out of popsicle sticks and yarn. The sticks were crooked and the yarn was fraying and partly unraveled. “Whereas this is the work of a master craftsman.” Buffy picked up a crumpled paper snowflake. “Is this you or me? Either way, I think it’s ready for retirement.” “Oh, this has got to be you,” said Dawn, backing away from the box, trailing a popcorn string from one hand. “No wonder we have ants.” “Look who’s talking, little miss shellac-the-Christmas-cookies.” “Martha Stewart did it. They make good ornaments.” “Martha Stewart knows how to shellac things properly, so they don’t go stale and crumble into a Christmasy mess.” “What the bloody hell are you two on about?” Both of them whirled to face Spike. “This is what we do,” Buffy explained. “We ridicule each other’s ornaments,” Dawn added. “Usually until Mom gets tired of us and tells us to shut up or stop helping. It’s tradition.” Spike nodded slowly, then headed over to Dawn’s box. He peered in, and after a moment’s study, stuck his hand in and drew a small mouse out by its tail. “And which of you darling girls is responsible for this one?” Buffy’s face softened with nostalgia. “Oh, Dawn, remember – Mom’s little church mice, with the bows and the… no…” she said, getting a closer look. “That’s a dead mouse. Eww!” Dawn shrieked, and Spike waved the mouse in her face, making her dash to the other side of the room. “Spike, get it out of here!” Buffy commanded, also shying away from the mouse. “Some Chosen One you are,” Spike muttered. “It’s just a little –” “Out!” Once he had disposed of the dead animal, the three of them settled into a rhythm, exchanging banter and memories with each ornament they hung on the tree. Even when they reached the ones that evoked memories of Joyce – little artsy trinkets she’d picked up through the gallery, mementos of favorite vacation spots, and the little plastic church mice who, unlike their deceased counterpart, wore red bows around their necks and carried hymnals – the joy of the task seemed to buoy them up, keeping them from wallowing in the grief of the dreaded “first Christmas without.” Spike crouched by the stereo and fiddled around until he found a mellow version of “The First Noel.” His presence, too, seemed to mitigate the absence, filling the empty space in a way that was not Joyce, but which managed to ward off the feelings of loneliness well enough, distracting them with his antics and demanding entertainment in the form of stories of past Christmases. Once every square inch of tree had been covered in relics of Buffy and Dawn’s childhood, the three of them stood back to admire their handiwork. “Light it up!” said Dawn. “Okay, are we ready?” Buffy asked, bending down by the electrical outlet. She plugged in the extension cord. “Bloody – ! Now why the hell are they blinking?” ***** “Looks like you guys got all Christmased up,” Jacob remarked later that night, taking in the newly decorated house. “Yeah. We’ve been at it all day,” said Buffy, greeting him with a kiss that started off innocent, but quickly deepened into a full-on tongue wrestle, with Buffy pressed up against her front door. “Mmmm, could have used more of that today,” she murmured. “It was crazy around here.” “Looked like someone went a little crazy with the lights on the roof.” Buffy smirked. “Xander insisted on competing with the house across the street.” She pressed a line of kisses along his jaw. “Seriously, it was like the Griswolds, with Xander on the roof and Spike kicking the crap out of the tree, and then the electricity –” Jacob stiffened. “Spike helped out?” “Yeah.” She wriggled against him playfully. “I mean, what’s the point of having super strength if we can’t get him to haul a Christmas tree?” She kissed him again before pulling him into the living room. “We all went last night, and he helped me cut down Xander’s and Willow’s trees, too.” She picked up an axe off the floor and frowned. “And I think he used my favorite battle-axe. Now it’s gonna be all wood-chippy.” “Oh… well, good use of resources, I guess.” Buffy dropped the axe, and her arms snaked around his waist. “You okay?” He gazed at the glittering tree. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know, I was kind of hoping we could – since I’m not going to be home for the whole Christmas season thing, I thought maybe you’d let me be a part of… Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Everything looks great.” “Oh, I’m sorry!” Buffy adopted her sad-puppy face. “I didn’t know you wanted to… I should have thought to include you.” “It’s all right.” He bent down and let his lips brush against hers. “There’ll be other things.” “You could patrol with me tonight,” she offered. Jacob chewed on his lip. “I’d like to, but I really ought to study for finals.” Buffy pouted, and so he felt obligated to kiss her pout away. “You don’t mind doing it by yourself, do you?” he asked. “Oh, I’m sure Spike’ll go with me,” she assured him. “And suddenly I’m incredibly free.” Buffy giggled. “It’s cute how your jealousy outweighs your pursuit of academic excellence.” He bent his head close to hers. “Eh, I was never that great a student anyway,” he murmured just before his mouth enveloped hers. “Seriously,” Buffy said, breaking the kiss. “I don’t wanna be responsible for you flunking out. I’ll be fine on my own.” ***** “Dammit,” Buffy muttered to herself, scanning the patrons at Willy’s but not finding the vampire she was looking for. “Where’s Spike when I need him?” She’d gotten a tip on a nest of Ghora demons down in the sewers, but she knew she couldn’t take out three full-grown Ghoras by herself, so she was hoping to find Spike. She hadn’t crossed paths with him at all on patrol, and he wasn’t in his crypt when she’d stopped by. Willy’s had been her last hope, but he was nowhere to be found. “Hey, Buffy!” a cheerful voice greeted her. She spun around to find Clem waving from his table in the corner. With a friendly smile, she went over to join him. “Hey, Clem. What’s up?” “Oh, you just looked out of sorts, hovering by the door. You looking for Spike again?” “Yeah. Have you seen him?” Clem shook his head. “Not tonight. He’s probably off with that lady friend of his.” Buffy’s mouth gaped open. “What?” “That reporter lady,” Clem explained helpfully. “She’s been in here a few times. Tall, dark hair, real pretty. Spike left with her nearly every night last week.” Buffy felt her stomach drop like a stone at his words. Somehow, the idea of Spike dating someone else had never occurred to her. And Susan, of all people. She was insanely glad she’d quit her job at the newspaper once the Council paychecks started coming in. She would never be able to face Susan, knowing the other woman was sleeping with Spike. She shoved her chair roughly away from the table and stumbled to her feet, ignoring Clem as she bolted for the door. “What’s the matter, Buffy? Did I say something wrong?” Buffy was already out on the street, gasping for air and fighting down nausea, when it hit her. Why should it matter who Spike was with? She’d been given a chance with him – several chances – and she’d turned him down. She was perfectly happy with Jacob. So why did it feel like she’d just been punched in the chest? The world was suddenly spinning too fast. She couldn’t be jealous. She couldn’t be. And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind, of Spike and Susan writhing against each other, tangled up in the bed sheets, Susan moaning in ecstasy – because, let’s face it, Spike would be fantastic in bed – and Spike looking at her with that awed devotion, the look Buffy used to see sometimes when he looked at her. She dropped to her knees in the alley and vomited up her dinner, coughing and choking as her chest heaved with keening, shuddering moans.

Chapter #6 - Candle Wax of Melted Dreams

Chapter 6: Candle Wax of Melted Dreams “Thanks for picking me up,” Dawn said, sporting a black eye and a bruised jaw as she and Jacob walked side by side out of Fondren High, where all Sunnydale students had been forced to go until their new high school was completed. “Your sister’s not going to be happy about this.” Dawn looked at him over the hood of the car as he unlocked the doors. “That’s why we’re not going to tell her.” Jacob made a jerking “get in” gesture, and she followed him into the car. “Dawn! You got into a fight at school. I have to tell her.” “No, you don’t. That’s why I called you. See, Willow or Xander or somebody, they’d be all, ‘Oh, Dawnie, we have to tell,’” she said, doing a fairly decent Willow impression. “‘We feel responsible for you.’ Blah blah blah for-your-own-good-cakes.” She fixed him with a knowing stare. “But you want me to like you. You want to be on my good side, because it’ll make things easier with Buffy.” “Dawn –” “So, we’re not going to tell her,” she repeated firmly. Jacob sighed, gripping the steering wheel as he guided the car out of the parking lot. She knew how to get at him, that was for sure. He felt just like one of his mom’s boyfriends, trying so hard to make the kid like him, willing to do almost anything to curry favor with those closest to the object of his affection. He’d always hated it when they were so obviously capitulating to him in order to get in his mom’s pants, but he’d never minded exploiting it when it suited him. “Fine,” he said, after a long pause. They drove the rest of the way in silence, until he started to make the turn-off to Revello Drive. “No,” Dawn said. “I want to go to Spike’s.” “Dawn –” “I want to go to Spike’s!” “Don’t you think we should go home? Buffy will –” “Buffy won’t care. I go to Spike’s all the time after school. Turn here.” “Here?” “Yeah. I’d’ve had Spike come pick me up in the first place, ’cept it’s too light out for him.” After a bit more direction, she said, “You can just pull over here.” “But this is a cemetery.” “Yeah. Spike lives in a crypt.” “Of course he does,” Jacob muttered. Dawn rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah. Vampire.” He turned off the ignition and got out of the car. “I’m going with you.” “You don’t have to. I go there all the time.” Jacob slammed the door and followed without bothering to argue the point with her. While part of him felt a desire to protect Dawn for Buffy’s sake, there was a morbid curiosity leading him to investigate this vampire that seemed so intertwined in Buffy’s life, and yet who she was so unwilling to talk about. The subject in question was sprawled on his comfy chair watching soap operas and drinking blood out of a novelty mug. He looked up as Dawn barged in, Jacob on her heels. “Brought a friend today?” he asked, barely concealing his disdain at seeing Jacob. Then, he caught sight of Dawn’s face and jumped out of his chair. “Oi, Niblet! What happened to you?” “Nothing.” She jerked her head away as he tried to hold her chin to get a better look. “Doesn’t look like nothin’. Looks like somebody hit you. Socked you but good.” “You should see the other guy,” she mumbled. “What happened?” “She started a fight,” said Jacob. “In the cafeteria at school.” Spike’s grip on Dawn hardened. “That true, Pint-size?” “I thought you weren’t going to tell,” Dawn said, glaring at Jacob. “I said I wouldn’t tell Buffy. Never said I wouldn’t tell anyone else.” “Come on, Platelet, we’re goin’ home.” Spike started towing her toward the door, and Jacob scurried out of their way to trail along behind. “No, Spike! You can’t!” Dawn wailed, doing her best to resist him and stand her ground without actually causing the chip to fire. “You can’t tell Buffy. She’ll kill me!” “Damn right, an’ you deserve it! Deserve a good throttling, and since I can’t do it myself…” He stopped and shook his head, as his affection for the girl overwhelmed his anger. “How exactly were you plannin’ to hide that shiner from your sis?” She shrugged. “I dunno. I figured you might have some ideas. Maybe a magic healing thing or something.” Her eyes lit up with an idea. “Or you could steal me some makeup.” “Yeah, that’ll happen. Come on, Bit, gotta face the music.” “Wait!” she said. “Daylight. You can’t go outside.” She smiled at him triumphantly. Spike paused. “Okay, then. Two options. You go home now, and when I stop over later, I find out that you’ve told Buffy the whole thing like a good girl. Or, I can take you through the smelly, rat-infested sewers and I’ll be sure you tell Buffy the truth. Which’ll it be, pet?” Dawn sighed. “I’ll tell her. No sewers.” “Good.” “I liked you better when you were evil,” she grumbled. He stopped cold, hearing so much more in that innocent, offhand comment. The little girl had no idea how evil he’d been. How evil he still was. Had no idea how hard he had to try in order to be good. Had no idea of the conflict that roiled within him as he fought against his nature. He shook his head and looked over at Jacob, as if he’d only just remembered the man was there. “You really were gonna let her get away with this?” he asked, genuine surprise in his voice. Jacob ducked his head. What was he supposed to say? I let her manipulate me. I was sucking up. I wanted her to like me, the way she likes you. How was it that the vampire who, save for a tiny scrap of government metal, would have had Dawn as an appetizer – how was it that he could he win her respect and love when Jacob, who had done everything right, could not? Why, in this family whose eldest daughter was the savior of the world, the champion of good, why should evil triumph? And why, when he’d stooped to that level, could evil turn it back on him, as though he were the one with a hundred years of sins to atone for? He watched Spike put an arm around Dawn and again escort her toward the door, but this time in a gentler fashion, and Jacob followed, wondering how he’d managed to feel morally inferior to a soulless demon. ***** Buffy was trying really hard to focus on what Jacob was saying. She was also trying really hard to reach down to where her purse was sitting on the floor at her feet without him noticing. Her fingers brushed against the strap and she leaned just a bit more and hooked it on her outstretched hand. Thank goodness she went for the Kate Spade with the stand-up straps tonight. She eased it very slowly onto her lap under the table and dug around until she found her cell. Pulling it out, she surreptitiously ducked her head and checked the digital readout. 8:42 p.m. No messages. “Everything okay?” Jacob asked, pausing with a forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth to peer at her with curiosity. “Fine.” Letting her purse drop back to the floor, she snapped her head up and gave him an unconvincing smile. “That’s the third time I’ve caught you checking your phone.” Buffy blushed and occupied herself with picking the crumbs one by one off the restaurant’s linen tablecloth and depositing them on her bread plate. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” “Are you worried about Dawn?” “Oh, no,” she assured him. “She’s pretty much grounded for life after that fight she got into. Tara’s on Dawn-duty tonight, making sure she doesn’t leave the house.” “Then, why the obsessive phone-checking? Is – is there someplace else you wanna be?” “No!” Buffy reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “No, it’s not that at all. It’s just… there’s a nest of Ghora demons and the gang went to take it out, and they haven’t checked in yet.” She’d intended to be there herself, but she’d been so flustered when Spike stopped by to check up on Dawn, all she could think of was him and Susan together. In a panic, she’d blurted out the rumor about the Ghoras, and of course, he’d wanted to help. She didn’t think she could stand being around him without feeling like her chest might explode, and before she knew it, she was suggesting that he bring the Scoobies and take care of it while she and Jacob went on a date. Now, of course, she felt guilty for making her friends do her job for her, and she was worried that she hadn’t heard anything. Jacob nodded. “And you want to be there with them.” “I am kinda Fearless Leader Girl.” She looked wistful for a moment, then adopted her resolve face. “But it’s fine. They can handle it. I want to be here with you.” “Buffy, if you need to go…” She shook her head firmly. “Why didn’t you just tell me? We could have gone out another night. La Piazza will still be here tomorrow.” Buffy picked up her fork and began pushing the remains of her eggplant parmesan around on her plate. “I guess I just didn’t want to let you down.” It was only sort of a lie. Jacob gazed at her with tenderness. “Buffy, I can’t wait until you let me down.” “Huh?” Now, he was the one who seemed nervous, keeping his eyes on the bread basket and flicking them only briefly toward her face. He turned her hand over and traced the lines of her palm with gentle fingers. “I haven’t been around that long, but… I get the feeling you don’t really let yourself do that much.” “You don’t understand my world, Jacob. When I let people down, it usually means somebody dies… and potentially the end of the world.” “Not with me.” He hesitated for a moment, letting that sink in. “I want to be that for you, Buffy, if I can. The one thing in your life that isn’t life or death, the one thing that’s completely hassle-free, that’s easy.” He suddenly turned pink. “Well, not like, easy…” Buffy laughed. She was about to reply when her cell phone beeped. A text from Xander – All clear. Buffy leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. “That looked like good news.” She opened her eyes and smiled. “It was.” ***** Jacob’s arm snaked around her waist as they left the restaurant, walking amidst the lively Main Street crowd. She let her head brush against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his musky cologne. He glanced down at her with tenderness and pulled her out of the path of oncoming pedestrians, leaning against the shop window of a clothing store already closed for the evening. His arms wrapped tighter around her as he pulled her in for a kiss. She pressed harder against him, the length of her lithe form pinning him to the window at his back, her mouth and her body responding hungrily to his touch. Finally, with the display of affection bordering on indecent, Jacob turned his head to nuzzle her cheek, drawing in much-needed breath. Buffy pulled away, one thumb tracing his hairline from his forehead to his ear as she held his gaze. “Did you mean what you said before?” she asked. “About wanting to be hassle-free guy?” “Of course I did.” A small, ironic smile crept across her face. “I’ve never actually had a relationship that wasn’t hard… and incredibly painful.” She pressed her lips briefly against his. “But I’d like to try.” ***** Jacob placed his hands on her shoulders, sliding the straps of her sundress down her arms. The dress fluttered to his bedroom floor, and Buffy stood in the puddle of fabric, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. He shrugged it off, letting it fall beside her dress. “You sure you’re ready to do this?” he asked her, his voice catching in his throat. She nodded, eyes wide and focused on his face, even as her hands slid down to relieve him of his pants. He pulled her in for another kiss so deep she felt like she was swimming inside him as they tumbled together onto the bed. When it was over, and he was spooning her, his arm draped over her hip with his fingertips running gently across her belly, Buffy tried to convince herself that it had been what she wanted. She wasn’t normally like this, falling into bed with a guy she’d only been dating for about a week – she’d learned that lesson with Parker, and her other relationships had taken things painfully slow – but in her mind, she insisted that it was Jacob’s sweet words, and not some sick sense of competition with Spike, that had brought her here. This was what she wanted – this guy, this life. This was what she wanted. Right?

Chapter #7 - In Sin and Error Pining

Chapter 7: In Sin and Error Pining “Hey, kiddo, thought you were grounded,” said Xander, as Dawn followed Tara into the Magic Box. He was sporting a nasty cut on his forehead from last night’s Ghora battle, which he’d refused to let Anya cover with a bandage because he thought it made him look manly. “Buffy didn’t come home last night,” Dawn grumbled. “Technically, Tara’s still baby-sitting.” “Dawn has to leave for school soon, but we figured she’d turn up here for the Scooby meeting,” Tara added. The others exchanged nervous glances. “Buffy didn’t come home?” Giles repeated. He leaned delicately against the display counter, careful of his bruised ribs. “You don’t think she finally got herself eaten by some demon, do you?” Anya asked, a little too chirpy for the situation. “She was on a date with Jacob,” said Dawn, in her “how stupid are you?” teenager voice. “She still could’ve run into… oh,” Xander said, shifting in his seat. “Right. Um…” “They were having sex,” Anya concluded for him, bringing a look of pained embarrassment to his face. Giles cleared his throat uncomfortably, while Tara kept her eyes trained on the floor. “Well, you see, Dawnie,” Xander started, cringing as he spoke. “When two people love each other, they, um, well, sometimes they… uh, help me out here, Will.” Willow lifted her head from her position on the floor, engulfed in pillows in the reading corner. She opened her mouth, but instead of speaking, she launched into a coughing fit that wracked her small frame. Tara hurried to the floor at her side, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, guys,” said Dawn, making a face. “Mom gave me the sex talk, like, years ago.” Xander gave a visible sigh of relief. “Are you okay, sweetie?” Tara asked, stroking Willow’s hair as her coughs died down to a faint wheeze. “I’m fine,” she managed. “Just a little worn out from magicking the Ghoras last night.” Tara was about to argue when Spike burst through the basement door. “All right, where’s the Slayer?” he said grumpily. “’S too early in the morning for a creature of the night the likes of me.” “She’s not here yet. Keep your pants on,” said Xander. Before he could decide whether to deign to respond, Buffy entered the magic shop, and Spike realized with frightening clarity that he wasn’t the only one who had a problem keeping his pants on. “Hey, guys, what’s going on? How was the demon-hunting last night?” “All demons dead and accounted for,” Xander reported. Spike’s face darkened as his heightened senses focused on the Slayer and the pungent musk that spoke of sweat and sex and arousal. She’d showered, of course, but he could still smell it on her like foul perfume, beneath the flowery soap and fruity shampoo. “Good.” She caught Spike’s eye and nearly withered at the wounded look he gave her. Standing in the shop, Buffy was reminded of the first – and only – time she’d made love with Angel. She’d been so paranoid, certain that anyone who looked at her could see the change, could tell that she was somehow different. She was wrong, of course, her own shame causing her to read too much into offhand comments and idle observations. But Spike… Spike knew. And suddenly, she realized there was something even worse than her knowing about Spike and Susan. “So,” she said, desperate to keep up a conversation to avoid thinking about Spike thinking about her having sex. “Um, was it hard?” She winced. “Ah, rather difficult, actually,” said Giles. “They have three heads, you know.” “Spike took one out all by himself,” Anya told her. Spike ducked his head to avoid Buffy’s eyes. “Had some experience with Ghora demons.” Dawn tried to give him a secret conspiratorial grin, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes, either, and she pouted. She thought last year’s Ghora adventure warranted a little secret-handshake action. He must be in one of his moods, or he’d at least have given her a wink behind Buffy’s back. Then, she realized… Buffy and Jacob, Spike mad. Right. Buffy caught sight of Willow and Tara on the floor and gave them a concerned look. “Will? How you doing? Are you okay?” Willow sighed. “Hello, five minutes ago, nice to see you again. For the last time, I’m fine.” She started to get to her feet, batting away Tara’s helping hand. “I’m just a little worn out, okay?” Spike studied her carefully. “You sure, Red? You’re lookin’ a bit peaked.” “I’m still worried,” Tara volunteered. She turned back to Willow, who was busy demonstrating that she could stand on her own without assistance. “Even if it is just the magic tiring you out, you shouldn’t be this weak.” Willow shook her head, but that was a little too much with the dizzy and she had to put out a hand to steady herself. “It’s just the flu or something.” “Yeah, remember when Buffy had the flu and she ended up in the hospital battling an invisible life-sucking monster?” Xander chimed in. “No good. Take drugs.” “I don’t know what you guys are all so worked up about. I have the flu and I used a lot of magic last night, and if I just get a good night’s sleep, I’ll be –” She was hit with a sudden case of vertigo and would have fallen back to the floor if Tara hadn’t been there to catch her. “Fine. Yes, we know,” Tara said, adopting her lecturing mom tone. “But you’re going to the doctor. Come on.” Willow weakly allowed herself to be ushered out of the magic shop as the others looked on with concern. “I’m worried about her,” said Xander. “I think she might be really sick.” “She’s paler than me, and I’m already dead,” Spike added. “That can’t be good.” Buffy chewed on her lower lip. “She just had a cold the other day.” “Looks like it’s gotten worse,” Xander said. “I’ll be glad when she’s had a doctor look at her.” “Me, too.” Buffy looked around the room. “In the meantime, who’s up for getting researchy? We’ve still got a demon summoner out there.” Giles folded his arms across his chest. “I’m glad you mentioned that, Buffy. I’d almost thought you’d forgotten.” “Okay, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been sort of wrapped up with Jacob lately. But – but I’m no good with languages anyway. You and Will are the real translators… and Spike.” She risked a glance at him and immediately wished she hadn’t. “Sorry, can’t stay.” His words were clipped as he fixed her with hardened eyes. “Got things to do.” And he left without another word. “Since you started dating Jacob, Spike’s virtually disappeared as well,” Giles observed. “He’s jealous,” said Anya, “and therefore selfish and grumpy.” Buffy swallowed back bile as she thought of a completely different reason why Spike hadn’t been around. Maybe he was just too busy with Susan to bother. “I – I’ll talk to him,” she offered reluctantly. “Tell him you want his help with stuff.” “I say good riddance,” Xander said. Dawn’s head snapped up from the notebook she was idly flipping through. “Hey! I like Spike!” Buffy gave her a sharp look. “Shouldn’t you be at school?” Xander jumped up, jingling his car keys. “On it.” “Hey,” Dawn said. “Hey, wait a minute.” Buffy looked at her, agitated. “Dawn…” “No, not that. Check this out.” She showed the others the notebook she’d been flipping through. It was written in an ancient language, possibly some mixture of Latin and demon. “I don’t know what most of those words are, but this one kinda stood out.” She pointed to the word Acanthia. “That’s the demon that attacked me and Spike.” Giles snatched the notebook out of her hands and examined it. “Can you read it?” Buffy asked him. “I’ll have to work on it. But this – this could be useful.” Dawn smiled triumphantly. “You’re still grounded,” said Buffy, causing the younger girl’s grin to fade. “Go to school.” ***** When Jacob woke up in the morning, he was alone in bed. It wasn’t a terrible shock – Buffy had warned him it might happen. Something about an early morning Scooby meeting to confirm that no one had been killed or maimed in last night’s activities. If it gave her peace of mind, it was fine with him. He was serious about being supportive slayer-boyfriend, and if she had to go do slayery things, he was all with the support. Despite his assurances, she’d still been concerned about it, babbling things about turning evil in the morning that he didn’t understand, but which made her seem all the more endearing for being so sincere about it. He slipped out of bed and threw on sweats and a t-shirt, headed for the campus fitness center. He definitely needed to work out. Stretching his muscles, he found them still sore from the night before. He’d never been particularly athletic, but he always thought of himself as being in shape. But Buffy was something else entirely, and even though he had no hope of keeping up with supernatural strength, he wanted to at least be capable of walking upright after sleeping with her. That meant some serious muscle toning was in order. This would be good for him, he told himself. Exercise was always good, kept you healthy. He wasn’t going to freak out because his wisp of a girlfriend was stronger than he was. Buffy had mentioned how she sometimes unintentionally made human guys feel inferior – well, he wouldn’t be like that. Buffy wanted him – she’d made that clear enough last night – and it didn’t matter to her that he wasn’t Superman. Still, he thought, groaning as he bent to pull his sneakers on, a little extra time at the gym wouldn’t hurt. ***** The Veloxin demon watched, cloaked in spells that made him blend into the background so as not to attract undue attention in the daylight, as the boy left the apartment at a jog. The demon followed, striding on at a steady pace, always keeping the boy several yards ahead. He’d seen the Slayer slip out earlier, having spent the night writhing in the young man’s bed, blissfully unaware of their voyeur. He’d observed the whole thing with a dispassionate eye. The mating rituals of humans were of little interest to him, all the groaning and sweating and thumping. It was distasteful, really. Truly civilized creatures laid eggs. He wondered where the Slayer had gone so early, but that wasn’t part of his assignment. Her movements were of concern, of course, but his charge was to follow the boy. Others would take care of the Slayer. His target led him across campus to the fitness center, where he disappeared into a jungle of weights and machinery. More sweating. The demon understood this practice only slightly better than the mating rituals. Honestly, humans were boring. ***** The crypt door emitted a slight squeak as Buffy eased it open. Doubtless Spike had heard the noise, if he was home, but there were no vampires to greet her when she crept inside. Downstairs, then. No matter how comfortable she was with Spike – and that level of comfort varied depending on the day of the week and the volatile state of his ever-changing mood – she always felt a little tingle of fear as she descended into his lair. Something about going into the belly of the beast that set off her internal slayer alarms. Danger! they said, shooting urgent telegrams up her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on their way to her brain, which promptly ignored the missives in favor of practiced rationalization. Just Spike. No worries. Making her way down the ladder, she seized on that thought. Of all the things Spike could smell on her, at least the one she could control was fear. “Hey,” she greeted him, jumping down from the third rung above the floor. He was sprawled – he always seemed to sprawl, as if to take up as much space as possible to compensate for his compact frame – on the sofa reading a book. She tried to discern which one, but the battered brown leather cover revealed no title or author. He flicked his gaze up at her entry and then, with an unreadable expression, returned to his book. “Thought you might want to patrol,” she tried, doing her best to act friendly and not betray the awkwardness she felt. “Maybe we could talk?” He looked up again, pursed his lips as though considering it, and said, “No,” before going back to ignoring her. “Well, that’s a hard argument to deflect, what with the N and the O and all.” No response. He was simmering, that quiet anger that always unnerved her, because it was so un-Spike-like. When he was pissed off, there was lots of yelling, and the throwing and breaking of things, often preceded by large quantities of alcohol to give the destruction a drunken flair. But the quiet, tight calm meant that he wasn’t just angry, he was also deeply hurt. Desperate to fill the silence, Buffy babbled. “But you like killing things. I mean, you really like killing things. It’s like… your entire reason for existing. You were all ready to stake yourself until you found out you could hurt demons.” He shot her a deadly glare and she quickly backpedaled. “Okay, sore subject but… but you’ve never passed up a demon-thumping –” The other problem with the quiet rage was that he could suddenly explode without warning, like a little one-man Chernobyl. One day it’s all fine and peachy, and then bam! All of a sudden everything’s radioactive and you’re killing Russian peasants by the score. And, in Spike’s case at least, she imagined that last part had at one time been literal. “…so it can’t be the demon part, so it has to be the me part, and I get that, okay, but you never want to talk, you just get all, you know, and you sulk and –” He snapped the book shut and pushed up off the sofa. Oh, here comes the mushroom cloud, she thought. “Will you shut up?” He pressed one hand to his temple, trying to ward off a headache. “Can’t hear myself think with your bloody yappin’.” She could see the calculation written on his face – deciding which would hurt more, backfire from the chip if he punched her, or listening to her babble. “You see? It is the me part and you’re being all avoidy.” He rolled his eyes. “I know you’re angry –” “Not angry, pet.” She tossed her head in an exasperated gesture. “Hurt, then. I’m not trying to – look, I just… I thought we could be civilized for once –” “Is that what this is?” Spike let out a harsh laugh, leaning in close. “You being civilized? Coming around here rubbing my nose in –” “Well, maybe you should keep your big nose out of my sex life! It’s none of your business!” “What am I s’posed to do when you come here stinking of him?” “I can’t help it! It’s not my fault you have a preternatural sense of smell!” She could hear the tinge of hysteria behind her voice, and she knew she should stop to breathe, calm herself down, but deep down she knew what she was really there to say, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “What do you care, anyway? Aren’t you too busy fucking Susan to worry about what I do?” It was as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Spike froze, staring at her in shock, and everything was completely still as the meaning of her words sunk in. “How – how did you know…?” “Clem,” she said disgustedly. “I went looking for you at Willy’s the other night, to tell you about the Ghoras. How long?” “What?” “How long have you been fucking her?” Buffy asked through gritted teeth. “Why do you give a toss, Slayer?” Spike snapped, shock and dismay giving way to anger. “You made it bloody well clear you weren’t interested, so why should I be accountable to you on who I share a bed with?” “Because you’re supposed to be in love with me!” she burst out. Her hand flew to her mouth when she realized what she’d said. “I mean… I didn’t…” But it was too late. Spike had already read between the lines. “Oh, is that right? You want it both ways, is that it? Want your perfect, normal boyfriend, so you can pretend you live a bloody normal life.” He spat out “normal” as though it were a dirty word. “But you still need me on the side, right? Pining away for you? Willing slave?” He glared at her, shaking his head in warning. “’M not a bloody toy, Buffy. Tired of being jerked around.” “I didn’t mean it like that!” she insisted. He stepped right up to her, invading her space threateningly. “Still wanna tell me who I can shag, though, don’t you?” “I don’t care who you ‘shag’!” she said, pressing her palms against Spike’s chest and shoving him backwards. “You’re a coward, Buffy,” he shot back. “You know you’ve got feelings for me, an’ you’re too bloody scared to admit it. What are you afraid of?” he taunted her. “What your friends’ll think? Or are you scared you’ve got a dark side, a little vampire fetish?” She hit him for that, a backhand across the jaw that rattled his teeth. “Don’t you dare talk about Angel like that. I don’t have a fetish. You’re not even a real vampire anymore, with that chip in your head. You’re just a sorry excuse for a –” Buffy raised her arm for another blow, but he caught her mid-swing, seizing her wrist and twisting her arm until there was an audible snap. The pain rocketed through his brain, but he gritted his teeth against it, refusing to allow it to show on his face. She gaped at him in disbelief, her injured arm cradled protectively against her chest. Spike punched the expression right off her face, even as stars darted across his own vision. “I can be a real vampire, pet,” he growled, and she realized just how much more terrifying it was to see him this furious and still looking human. At least in game face, she knew what to expect. “Best not to let yourself forget it.” She knocked him backwards with her good arm. He fell over a pile of books, but rolled through the fall with preternatural grace and sprang back up a few feet away. “I’m evil, right? That’s the reason you’ll never love me?” He swooped down, snatching up one of the books at his feet. “That’s the reason I’m not” – he hurled Robert Browning at her – “bloody good enough?” He stumbled a little as the chip informed him with its excruciating relentlessness that throwing things would hurt her. Buffy batted down the projectile poetry and watched Spike’s anger trail off into frustration. He clutched his head, gripping fistfuls of his hair and pulling it out of its carefully slicked-back coif. There were tears in his eyes now, but whether from emotion or the pain from the chip, she wasn’t sure. “I was jealous,” she said quietly. Spike looked up at her, a mixture of pain and confusion on his face. “That’s why I slept with Jacob last night. I knew about Susan, and I was jealous.” She met his eyes, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. “I don’t know if you – love her, or – or if you’re just… anyway. And if you do… love her, then I – I want you to be happy. But if you just wanted me to know how it feels, then… it worked. I get it, okay? It hurts.” Buffy took a deep breath, waiting for Spike to respond. When he didn’t, she nodded and started backing toward the stairs. “I’ll just… leave you alone now.” Spike blinked several times, desperately trying to regain his bearings. “Buffy… wait,” he said, but she was already gone.

Chapter #8 - All I Want For Christmas is You

Chapter 8: All I Want for Christmas is You “Willow.” Willow’s head jerked up from where it was lolling against her chest. “Huh? I’m here.” Giles took off his glasses and fixed her with a concerned expression. “Willow – and I mean this in the kindest way possible – if you’re not going to be of use, why don’t you go home and get some rest?” “No, I’m here to help.” To demonstrate this, she picked up her pencil and focused on the notebook in front of her, trying to remember what language she’d been translating from. “Will, what are you doing?” Xander cried, coming into the shop with Buffy on his heels. “You should be in bed!” “Did you go to the doctor?” asked Buffy. “I did! I went, but…” She shrugged sheepishly. “They couldn’t find anything wrong with me.” “Maybe they weren’t trying hard enough,” Xander said, “because you look like death warmed over.” “She’s right,” Tara said, coming back to the table with the entire contents of a bookshelf in her arms. “I saw the test results. There’s not a germ in her body.” Xander and Buffy exchanged puzzled looks. “Huh,” Xander mused. “That’s weird.” “I’m looking for some kind of mystical thing.” Tara gestured toward the books. “Maybe a side effect of one of the spells she did or something.” She glanced at Willow again, taking in her exhausted state. “I’ll just grab a few books and take her home.” “Yes, and meanwhile, there’s no one left to work on the pressing matter of translating these texts,” Giles pointed out with some exasperation. “Buffy, have you spoken to Spike yet? I could certainly use his help.” “Uh, no… not yet,” Buffy mumbled. Must have slipped my mind, she thought bitterly. Somewhere in between the part where he yelled at me and the part where he broke my arm. “I’ll do it tonight, I promise. After I work out a little bit,” she said, disappearing into the training room. ***** “Hey there, grounded girl.” Dawn was sitting on the living room sofa, her arms folded across her chest, staring at the blank television. She turned to see Jacob letting himself in the front door and scowled. “Buffy’s not here.” “I know. She’s at the Magic Box. I came to see you.” He sat down on the sofa next to her and looked at the TV. “I hear it’s more entertaining if you turn it on.” “Buffy had Tara put a spell on it. I’m not allowed to watch TV or talk on the phone or leave the house, except for school.” “Well, that’s a bummer.” He dropped the Blockbuster bag on the coffee table. “I had a whole thing planned. Was gonna make popcorn – my special recipe.” Dawn glowered at him. “Bag. Microwave. Four minutes. You don’t need a recipe.” Jacob placed a plastic shopping bag down next to the movies. “I’ve got something a little more complicated than that.” He pulled out a bag of chocolate discs. “Ever had chocolate covered popcorn?” Dawn’s frosty glare melted a little, so he played his ace, drawing something else out of the bag. “And, oh, what’s this?” He held out what appeared to be a homemade charm. Her curious eyes followed him as he walked over to the TV and laid it down on top. “Just… like…” He hit the power button and the television flickered to life. “Magic.” He looked over and caught her struggling to keep her lips from turning up into a reluctant smile. ***** “It’s not going to work this time,” Buffy said without turning around, hitting the punching bag with her good arm. “Just walking in here and acting like nothing happened.” She’d put it together, how Spike had managed to be so calm after their last fight. Well, unlike him, she couldn’t just fuck all her problems away. “It may have worked last time, but we can’t just pretend like we never said those things –” “Actually, I came for Dawn,” Spike interrupted. “Today’s our training day.” “Oh.” Sheepish and surprised at how disappointed she felt, Buffy stopped her lopsided assault and turned around to see him leaning against the door frame. “Well, she’s grounded. You can see her again in two weeks.” Spike nodded. “How’s the arm?” “Sore. It’ll be fine in a day or two.” Shutting the door behind him, he took a few hesitant steps forward, hands shoved in his pockets. “I didn’t do it to hurt you, Buffy.” “You didn’t break my arm to hurt me?” she responded incredulously. He shook his head. “Not that. Susan.” He reached out to touch her, but she jerked away angrily. Spike pressed on anyway. “I didn’t even mean for you to find out. It was just… I couldn’t stand watching you with him…” “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I won’t see her again.” “No!” Buffy protested, giving him a guilty expression. “Don’t – don’t do that on account of me. You were right last night. It’s none of my business who you’re with. And like I said, I… I want you to be happy.” She narrowly managed to avoid choking on the words. Spike shook his head and sighed. “Buffy,” he said, in a patronizing tone. “What?” “Are you daft?” he asked softly, stepping up to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Do you really think I could ever love anyone even a fraction of how much I love you? Do you think any other woman could make me happy?” Buffy closed her eyes. “Why do you do that?” “Do what?” Her eyes flickered open again, and her questioning gaze locked onto his. “Why do you keep coming back? You deserve better than this.” “I don’t want anyone else.” “But I’m screwed up,” she insisted. “And I don’t know what I want, and I’m just gonna keep hurting you.” He gave her a half smile. “You’re worth a bit of pain.” Buffy shook her head. “Don’t.” “Don’t what?” “Don’t love me!” Spike took a step back, startled by her outburst. “I can’t be who you want me to be,” she went on. “I can’t – I can’t give that much. I don’t have it in me anymore.” “So… what? When Jacob starts asking for too much, you gonna run away from him, too?” Buffy just stared at him reproachfully, but he knew the answer was yes. She’d done the same to Riley, pushed him away instead of letting herself love him. “You’re right,” he said. “You are screwed up. And I’ve a good idea who to blame for it. But it’s never going to get any better unless you try. Maybe it won’t be me, but you’ve gotta do it sometime. You can’t just keep pushing people away.” Buffy was silent, ruminating on his words. She knew he was right, but what he was suggesting felt so overwhelming. It was dangerous and scary, and she didn’t know how to be that vulnerable. “Come on,” Spike sighed. “Figure you’ll be wanting to hit something now.” He nodded toward her arm. “If you’re feeling up to it, let’s have a go.” ***** “I really think Johnny Depp is underrated as an actor,” Dawn mused, munching on chocolate-covered popcorn while on the TV screen Sam made dancing feet out of dinner rolls and forks. “Totally,” Jacob agreed. “I tried to do that thing once, with the grilled cheese and the iron.” “How’d that work out?” “Not so good. I kinda made a cheesy mess on the ironing board and Mom yelled at me.” She dug one hand into the popcorn bowl and shoved several stuck-together pieces in her mouth. “This popcorn is really good.” Jacob rolled his head along the sofa cushion towards her. “Told you I had a secret recipe.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re just trying to get me to like you.” “Well… yes.” He gave her an expectant look. “Is it working?” “Bribery will get you everywhere.” Her tone was glib, and she could tell from his expression that he wanted a real answer. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. He shifted slightly, facing her in order to better facilitate a serious conversation. “I want you to know, I’m not just doing this because of Buffy. I – I want us to be friends, Dawn. Not just putting up with each other because we love the same girl.” Dawn started to brush him off with an eye-roll, but something caught her attention. “You – you love her?” Jacob blinked, as though just realizing what he said. “Well… I haven’t told her that yet, but yeah… I do.” He smiled, mostly to himself, but he caught Dawn up in his expression and she returned the smile. Breaking the eye contact, Dawn ducked her head and began playing with the hem of her shirt. Somewhat against her will, she found herself thinking friendly thoughts towards Jacob. She felt almost as though she was betraying Spike by accepting Jacob into the inner circle. But here he was, being all sweet and friendly to her, and he loved Buffy. She had absolutely zero relationship experience to speak of – except for a brief interlude in which Danny Nussbaum was her boyfriend, until he threw sand in her eyes and stole her shovel – but she was pretty certain that love meant something special. Love was what made Buffy willing to kill Faith, to save Angel’s life. It made Giles rush headlong into certain death when Angelus killed Miss Calendar. It made Spike willing to be beaten to a bloody pulp and get thrown off a giant tower, because he made a promise. She was pretty sure there was something disturbing about her that all those examples involved death and pain, but the point was that love meant something important. Maybe more important than her being angry bitter girl. Of course, this was also Buffy they were talking about. “You want my advice?” Dawn asked, looking back up at Jacob. “I wouldn’t say anything to her. She’ll probably just freak out.” When Jacob raised an eyebrow, she added, “She’s got issues.” ***** “Saw Rupert on the way in.” Spike side-stepped Buffy’s kick as they sparred in the training room. “Oh, yeah.” Buffy dropped to the floor in a gymnast’s tumble, letting the momentum from Spike’s attack carry him right over her head. They both sprang to their feet and turned to face each other. “He kept telling me to ask you to help with something.” “Yeah,” Spike grunted, batting away her punches with his forearms. “Translation needs work. I can give him a hand.” Buffy smiled. “Thanks.” Although he didn’t really have to worry, since she blocked most of his blows, Spike made sure to pull his punches, in order to avoid triggering the chip. Sometimes, Buffy extended the same courtesy to him. Not today. With a punch-kick combo, Buffy laid him out flat on the ground again, then leapt onto his chest, right hand raised in staking motion. “I win.” “Not fair,” Spike complained, placing his hands on her hips and sliding her down to his lap. He did it to get her off his chest so he could sit up, but he certainly didn’t mind the feeling it gave him. “I can’t hit you.” “Think of it as payback for the broken arm,” Buffy said dryly. She stood and extended a hand, which Spike accepted, and she pulled him upright. “One more round. I’ll be gentle.” “Like hell, you will.” Spike braced himself for her attack. Punch, block, jab, kick, spin… He’d been fighting her for so long, he knew the moves like they’d been choreographed for them. He never got tired of watching her fight – she could be beating his brains out and he’d still be marveling at her beauty. He paused on that thought – possibly the reason he’d never killed her when he had the chance. He liked to think he was still around for much the same reason. She caught him off guard with a box to the ear that would’ve made his mother proud. She bent her arm in front of her to follow up, but he managed to avoid eating her elbow, catching it inches from his face and giving it a shove so that she almost punched herself in the face. Spike swung as if to land one on Buffy’s jaw, but he misjudged the distance and instead of stopping short, his fist connected with her face and sent her reeling backwards. Buffy landed hard on her backside, several feet from where she’d been standing. Spike froze, his arm extended in the follow-through of his punch, staring in shock at his hand. “It didn’t hurt.” “The hell it didn’t.” Buffy got to her feet, rubbing her jaw. “No, my head… No migraine.”

Chapter #9 - Hopes and Fears of All the Years

A/N: This will be the last update before Christmas. Hope you all have a lovely holiday! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to start my Christmas shopping... :) ***** Chapter 9: Hopes and Fears of All the Years Buffy’s eyes widened as she ran up to Spike. “What do you mean? Why didn’t it work?” “I – I don’t know.” “Hit me again.” He did, this time a punch in the gut that had Buffy doubled over. “Nothing. Not even a tickle.” “I don’t understand.” Spike went to hit her a third time, but this time she blocked it and landed a kick to his ribcage. He looked at her, startled for a moment, then attacked. Now, they were fighting for real, both going all out. They crashed into things, knocking over training equipment and trampling the straw dummy. At the sound of the commotion, Xander and Giles came into the training room, and were shocked to see Spike lift Buffy and throw her against the wall like a rag doll. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Xander cried. “I thought he couldn’t do that!” They watched Buffy jump up and charge at Spike, turning a cartwheel and kicking him with both feet as she flipped. With that, Spike morphed into game face and roared, “Slayer!” “Uh, they’re just playing, right?” asked Xander. “I honestly couldn’t say,” Giles replied, his face mirroring Xander’s concern. The thought flitted through Buffy’s mind that she should be afraid, or at least concerned. This was Spike, unmuzzled, just as able to hurt her as the day he first set foot in Sunnydale. But beneath the flicker of slayer warnings, there was something else – exhilaration. She hadn’t let go like this in a long time – not since she’d rescued Spike from Drusilla’s cave. The fledgling vamps she fought on a nightly basis were no match for her – even chipped, Spike could give her a better workout. To really just let loose, to unleash the full extent of slayer fury and know that he was fighting back with all the strength his demon gave him – it felt good. It felt really good. Buffy was blocking Spike’s attacks, but he slipped in a spinning kick that knocked her to the floor. She fell near a stray stake and grabbed it. “How about we raise the stakes?” She jumped up and twirled the stake in her fingers. “Obligatory pun,” Spike observed, his kicks driving her towards the wall. “Uh, now she’s got a stake,” Xander narrated. “Oh, dear,” was all Giles could manage. Spike eyed the stake in her hands, feeling its presence in the fight like a silent third combatant. Would she use it? He honestly couldn’t say. She seemed fearless enough – if she was really worried about him, she’d be panicking more, right? Not looking at him with sparkling eyes and cheeks flushed as much with delight as with exertion. But he never forgot that she was the Slayer, and he was a vampire, and all of a sudden the scales were set right again. No more “we wouldn’t hurt a harmless creature” – all bets were off now. The simple malfunction of a sliver of metal and circuitry, and there was nothing to distinguish him from the hordes of other vampires she’d fought in her lifetime, save for their brief amiable history. Was it enough? He grabbed Buffy by the shoulders and threw her against the wall. Then, he seized her wrist and banged it against the wall repeatedly. It was her injured arm, and she gasped in pain, dropping the stake. “You know, we should do something,” said Xander. Giles just stared at him as if to say, “Like what?” If Spike could hurt humans again, the two of them were certainly no match for him. Spike threw Buffy away from the wall and kicked her to the ground. As she was picking herself up, he grabbed her from behind, wrapped one arm around her waist, and with the other hand jerked her head to one side, exposing her neck. He growled, revealing his sharp fangs, and leaned in for the kill. Xander and Giles just stood there, paralyzed, unable to think or react. This was their worst nightmare come to life – that one day, Spike would remember he was evil and use Buffy’s trust to get close to her and then kill her. But just before he bit her, Spike’s vampire face melted away, and he said in her ear, “I win, pet.” Releasing her with a light cuff to the temple, he gestured to where Xander and Giles were standing, dumbfounded. “Looks like we’ve got company.” “Wh-wh-what the hell was that?” Xander asked, as they approached. “Chip’s not working, I guess,” said Spike. “I can hit just fine.” “This can’t be good,” Xander muttered. Giles was wide-eyed. “Well, this is certainly an… interesting development.” The expression on his face indicated that the word he wanted to use was “terrifying” rather than “interesting.” “You’re sure it’s not working?” asked Xander. Spike gave him a devilish grin. “You wanna see?” “Spike, no!” Buffy cried, but too late. Spike walloped Xander and both started shrieking in pain. “OW! He hit me!” “Bloody hell!” Spike clutched his head. Buffy stared at them. “Wait, it worked that time?” “Maybe it was a blip,” Giles suggested, his voice extraordinarily hopeful. “Temporary malfunction.” “Wanna try out that theory?” Spike raised his arm to punch Giles, but Buffy intervened, grabbing his wrist. “Spike, you can’t just go around punching everyone to see if you get zapped.” “Why not?” She gave him a glare that answered his question. “Okay,” she said, turning back to the others. “Now, let’s not freak out about this. We just need to figure out what –” Spike let out a howl of pain and dropped to the floor. He rolled onto his side in the fetal position, his hands buried in his tangle of hair. “Spike!” Buffy knelt beside him, pulling his head into her lap. “Spike, what’s happening?” He looked up at her, his chest heaving as he instinctually sucked in air he didn’t need. “Chip,” he gasped, before his eyes rolled up into his head. “Spike!” Buffy slipped her hands around his and massaged his cranium until he expelled his breath with a whoosh of relief. “Buffy,” he croaked. He uncurled his limbs, leaving his head resting in her lap. Her fingers were working magic up there, easing his pain away with gentle overlapping circles, and he was in no hurry to break from her touch. “Spike, what happened?” Giles was crouching next to him now, but at a safe distance, not willing to give him an opportunity to test out the chip again. He struggled to sit up, Buffy supporting him from behind. “Chip just fired for no reason. I – bloody – aaahhh!” His head slammed down into Buffy’s lap again, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched. Buffy bent over him, working her hands along his scalp and doing her best to comfort him until the episode had passed. “Spike, why’s it doing this?” “Don’t bloody know, pet,” he said through gritted teeth. Quickly tiring of being the victim, he scrambled out of Buffy’s grasp and to his feet. “If I knew what was causing it, wouldn’t be rolling on the floor screaming in pain, would I?” Buffy jumped up after him. “Were you, maybe… thinking about hurting –” “No!” Spike made an aimless, angry gesture, flinging his balled fist at no one. “It just… went off.” “Maybe it was a delayed reaction?” “Can I just say, I’m not liking any of this,” said Xander. “Except for the part where he was in pain. It’s the part where the chip’s not working that makes me a little run-for-my-life-y.” “We don’t know that it’s not working,” Buffy insisted. Spike hauled off and punched Xander again, this time with no unpleasant side effects. “’S not working.” “Ow!” Xander pressed his fingers to his nose, feeling for broken bones or ruptured blood vessels. “Would you stop doing that?” “Okay, this is… I don’t understand what’s going on.” Buffy gave her Watcher a plaintive look. “Giles?” Giles took off his glasses and squinted at Spike. “I’m afraid I’m really out of my depth. Without more knowledge of the technology, there’s really nothing we can do. We’ll just have to let it run its course.” ***** “So, we’re really sure about this?” Tara asked. “The chip’s completely kaput?” Buffy nodded, running her fingers absently over the new mark on her neck that had been the final test. They came away stained with blood. “I think it’s time to accept that Spike’s chip is no longer operational.” A mixture of curious and concerned glances made their way around the living room. Spike leaned against the door frame, visibly apart from the others. He made them uncomfortable when he got too close; he’d picked that up right away. It hadn’t helped matters when he’d lunged at Buffy from behind to catch her off guard. But he already knew the chip didn’t fire if she let him bite her. It had to be a surprise in order for it to be a real test. He shook his head and scowled. “Would you all stop lookin’ at me like I’m a bloody science experiment?” “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘unrestrained homicidal monster,’” said Xander. “That’s, like, three words, and Spike doesn’t do that anymore!” Dawn protested. “How do we know?” Jacob asked, casting an uneasy eye in Spike’s direction. This was his first official Scooby meeting, so he restrained himself from saying, “I told you so,” but he felt somewhat vindicated in realizing his fears had been well founded. “I mean, he hasn’t killed because of the chip, right? We don’t know what he’s like now.” His gaze fell on Buffy’s marred throat, and his eyes hardened with protective instinct. Spike’s nostrils flared. How dare that wanker judge him? Presuming to know what went on in his head. “Well, we’ve been here for at least an hour, and Spike hasn’t killed anyone yet,” Anya pointed out. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Spike’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “Oh, I’m not saying you won’t. Just laying out the facts.” “Look, I’m telling you, Spike’s not going to hurt anyone.” Buffy paced her way over to the doorway and took up position next to him, legs apart and arms folded in a parade rest. “Tell them.” Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. “I promise not to eat any of you. Satisfied?” “And what about the rest of the world?” asked Giles. “They go back to being your all-you-can-eat buffet, is that it?” The truth was, Spike didn’t know the answer to that. He’d convinced himself that he’d changed, because of Buffy, because of wanting to be good, and if this day ever came when he was finally free of the chip, finally free to choose for himself – he’d believed that he’d choose to be good, for her at least, if not for the sake of being good. But lately he’d been feeling the demon within, rumbling inside him like the beginnings of an earthquake, ready to erupt given the right provocation and the release of Spike’s self-restraint. Reminding him of what he was, telling him that he’d never change, not really. No matter how much he loved Buffy, he’d still been able to hurt her, even with the chip. Now that he was uncaged, unmuzzled, how much worse would his carnage be? Even if he managed to control himself around her – and her friends, because it’d be pointy and wooden for him if he ever tried to hurt them – how could he bring himself to care about the millions of people out there who meant nothing to him, who were no more than Happy Meals with legs? Was it enough, to love her and do what was right because she asked it of him? When he was fueled by a love that would never be returned, when he obeyed a heart that belonged to another? Could he walk that line, defy his nature, overcome his demon? In the end, it didn’t matter. He had to try, or else he had to leave town now and hope to never run into the Slayer again. The past year meant nothing if he couldn’t hold himself back. She’d killed her one true love; she could surely kill him without a second thought if it came to it. “I’ve changed,” he said, because he had to. Anything less would turn him to dust. “On the side of good now. If I slip up” – he nodded toward Buffy – “she knows where to find the heart.” ***** When Tara got home, Willow was curled up on the sofa, clad in her fuzzy moon-and-stars pajamas, hot tea in hand with tissue box at the ready. Tara slid onto the couch, giving her lover an affectionate squeeze and pressing her lips to Willow’s forehead in a gesture that was as much to take her temperature as it was a sign of affection. “Feeling better?” Willow’s face was pale, with an unsettling greenish tinge around the edges. “I threw up again,” she mumbled. Tara reached out and tucked a strand of stringy red hair behind her lover’s ear. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish I’d been here for you. Can I get you anything?” Willow shook her head. “What was the big emergency Scooby meeting about?” “Oh, it was n-nothing,” Tara replied, not wanting to worry her any more than necessary. “It’s not nothing. I heard Xander freaking out when he called here. Something happened.” Tara hedged a little, but finally she admitted, her eyes focused on her lap, “Spike’s chip isn’t working.” “What do you mean, it’s not working?” “He can hurt people again.” “You’re sure?” Willow was surprised, but she didn’t seem as concerned as the others had been. Tara wondered what sort of balance was being struck in her mind, weighing the experience of being bitten, but not harmed, when Spike was wounded against all the threats and kidnappings and broken bottles in the face she’d been on the receiving end of during his pre-chip days. “We’re sure. We had a little round robin, with Spike going around pinching everyone. Some people set it off at first, and he had these creepy episodes where it just misfired for no reason…” She shuddered at the memory of Spike’s face contorting in pain while he gripped his head and huddled on the floor. Apparently, it’d happened before, because Buffy seemed to know just what to do, helping him through it with gentle hands massaging his head. “But after a few tries, it just stopped working at all. No one could get a reaction, not even when he bit Buffy.” “He bit her?” asked Willow, more out of curiosity than concern. She trusted Spike almost as implicitly as Dawn did. Tara nodded, eyes widening at the scene replaying in her head – Buffy, reasoning that a real vampire attack was the only true test, interrupted mid-sentence as Spike vamped out and sank his teeth into her. The look of shock that faded into something like ecstasy – so brief Tara might have imagined it – before he pulled away, sputtering as though he was trying not to actually drink. Giles, Xander, and Jacob leapt to their feet, but Spike was halfway to the front door before any of them could even reach for a weapon. Then, a murmured consultation in the foyer, as Buffy convinced Spike to come back to the group. Willow laid her head down in Tara’s lap. “What happened?” “We’re not sure. I don’t know if something went wrong or – or it degenerated or what. Buffy said… back when the Initiative was still around, Riley had mentioned that Spike was the first to – the first success. Maybe they weren’t really thinking long term. Anyway… Did – did you hear that?” Tara’s body suddenly went rigid, her eyes sweeping the room. “Hear what?” Willow mumbled, now half asleep, lulled by the soft stroke of Tara’s hand through her hair. “I thought I heard something, like a tapping. On the window, maybe. Hold on a sec, okay?” She gently lifted Willow’s head and slipped off the couch, placing a pillow in her stead. She peered through the sheer curtains but saw nothing. The campus emergency light across the street cast a blue glow over the ground, throwing odd-shaped shadows across the apartment building’s parking lot. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, and it occurred to her that the lights in the living room were illuminating her clearly for anyone who might be out there, while they would be cloaked by the darkness. She quickly let the curtain drop back into place and hurried back to her place on the sofa, missing the dark shape that darted across the parking lot once she’d turned her back. “Probably the squirrels or something,” she said, cradling Willow in her arms again. She started running her fingers through Willow’s hair again, noting how limp and knotty it was. Willow’s messenger bag was sitting on the floor, and Tara rummaged around, looking for a brush. “Will? Where’s your hairbrush? The one you always keep in your bag.” “I dunno,” she mumbled. “It’s not in there?” “No.” The blonde witch stiffened again, as an ominous thought suddenly occurred to her. “When was the last time you saw it?” Willow shifted slightly, in what would have been a shrug if she hadn’t been lying down. “Saturday, maybe? I can’t really remember.” “Did you have it in a public place? Did you leave it unattended?” Willow sat up at the urgency in Tara’s voice. “Yeah, I – I took my book bag everywhere when I was studying. The library, the Espresso Pump. I might have been distracted – what? What is it?” Tara met Willow’s eyes, her gaze intent and concerned. “Thaumaturgy.” ***** Spike trudged down the streets of Sunnydale, hands shoved in his pockets, head bent to avoid eye contact with any passing strangers as they bustled by loaded down with holiday shopping. He navigated the crowded thoroughfare of Main Street, brightly lit by Christmas lights strung from street lamps and adorning shop windows. He didn’t trust himself to the darkness of the alleys, where he might happen upon a lonely soul, the seductive aroma of blood and sweat and fear lulling him into a complacency of rationalizations – he’ll never be missed… the Slayer would never know – and he’d be ripping out the poor sod’s throat before he even had time to consult his lack of a conscience. Fuck. Spike raked an angry hand through his rumpled curls and stumbled out of the path of pedestrians, drowning in the myriad of human scents, each of them humming through his veins like a siren song. He tried to stop himself from drawing in the deep draughts of sanguine-tinged air, but he might as well have been a human for all he could keep from breathing. It would get easier. It had to get easier. He leaned against the brick face of the bank on the corner, eyes closed, head lolled back. He unearthed a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his duster, tapped one out, and shoved it between his lips. He ducked his head toward the flickering flame, then snapped the Zippo closed with a metallic click, wondering how exactly his unlife had turned to such utter shit in a matter of hours. A tiny flake of metal no larger than a dime, bits of electrodes and circuitry, shorted out and sending him reeling, careening off into a world he didn’t understand, traps and obstacles at every turn, tempting him, taunting him. Back when he first escaped the Initiative, he’d spent hours imagining his first kill once he got the chip out. Stalking his prey for blocks, just for the thrill of the chase, sniffing out the blood pumping through tender, succulent veins, until he cornered his victim in an alley. Exhausted, weak, stinking of fear, heart pounding like a tribal drumbeat, threatening to break through the fragile ribcage. The caress of his fangs, sliding along a neck slick with sweat until they found their purchase, sinking in like a knife through butter. The sweet nectar, flowing into his mouth, over his tongue, filling him with warmth, with life, with… Bloody fuckin’ hell. His erection strained against the fabric of his jeans, even as he was choking to keep from dry heaving on the pavement. Of course, he’d had to revise his fantasy since then – the list of “people he couldn’t kill because it would upset Buffy” kept growing, until finally he’d realized that killing anyone would make her unhappy – even people she didn’t know. And the longer he had the bloody thing, the more remote it seemed that he would ever get it out. He’d stopped thinking about what he would do “if” and begun to accept life as a neutered vampire. Maybe he should have given it more thought. He had plenty to think about now. Like what to do now that he was free – free to make choices he was utterly unequipped to make, when his only moral guidance was a slight blonde with a fierce right hook. Or what to make of the inner turmoil that burned hotter than ever before – knowing he could kill, and part of him wanting to, needing to, aching to unleash his demon and sate his bloodlust, even while the part of him that worshipped Buffy and strove to be a man recoiled at the very notion of killing a human. What if he couldn’t do it? What if he couldn’t live up to Buffy’s expectations? She’d promised them all, signed him up for an unlife of restraint and self-deprivation. But what if he failed? Couldn’t keep his demon in check in the face of all the temptation, every human being a cornucopia of smells and tastes and dinner. No matter how many humans with whom he made acquaintance, he’d never been able to completely disregard the idea of them as food. It had been easy, with the chip, knowing they were off-limits. A high-voltage electrical shock to the brain did wonders for curbing the appetite. But without that barrier… for the first time in his long memory, Spike was truly afraid of himself. Cigarette burned down to the filter, he flicked it to the sidewalk and ground it out under his boot. He tried to fathom the perversion of a vampire unwilling to succumb to his primal urges, reluctant to hunt his natural prey. How had he become such an abomination to his species? Was it the chip, forcing him to associate with humans he wouldn’t have given a second thought to otherwise? Was it her? Some power she held over him, making him long to be that which he could never be again? Forcing him into this state of confusion and chaos – unwilling to be a monster, unable to be a man. Spike slid down the wall at his back, falling to a crouch with his elbows on his knees. His hands skated through his hair to the back of his neck, pulling his head down into the hollow created by his curled body, tears of frustration dripping onto his denim-clad thighs.

Chapter #10 - Looking to Believe

Chapter 10: Looking to Believe The next evening, the whole gang gathered at the Magic Box, even Willow, although she was still exhibiting flu-like symptoms and could barely hold her head up. Tara had sternly instructed her to stay home, but Willow was a Scooby, and she was determined that nothing would keep her from a Scooby meeting, not even sickness. “So, what’s going on?” Xander asked, taking a seat at the research table next to Buffy. “And please, tell me something good.” “I’m not pregnant,” Anya offered cheerfully. Xander suddenly went pale. “Was… was that a possibility?” “Aww, you’re all white and pasty,” she cooed, as Buffy stifled a giggle. “Anya!” Xander cried, in a high, screechy voice. “What? You said to say someth-” “Would the two of you – please?” Giles cut in with exasperation, as he came over to the research table. “That’s not why I called you here.” The bell on the shop door jangled a warning, and every head swiveled to watch Spike cross the threshold and stop cold at the unwelcoming stares from Giles and Xander. “Buffy – uh, Buffy said there was news.” His gaze alighted on the Slayer, the only one who managed any semblance of a friendly facial expression, even if it was only a tiny, hesitant smile. The witches might’ve been pleasant, he hoped, but Willow was too sick and Tara too worried about her to muster up anything more than concerned looks. Buffy nodded. “Giles has been translating some stuff.” She turned to her Watcher. “What did you find?” With a wary sidelong glance at Spike, who remained close to the door, Giles gathered the papers in front of him and donned his spectacles. “It – I seem to have uncovered a series of rituals. I’m not sure what they’re leading up to, some sort of preparation for a greater ritual or – or assumption of power. I – anyway, the important part is that one of the rituals involves the blood of a dragon, and another the spine of an Acanthia demon.” “That’s not a coincidence,” Buffy said darkly. “No.” Giles looked up from his research. “Buffy, those demons weren’t here to be a threat. They were ingredients.” Spike scowled. “So, he’d call up the demons and send ’em our way so we could do his dirty work for him.” “I presume that’s the case, yes,” Giles said, without meeting the vampire’s eyes. “He probably came around after the demon was dead to collect what he needed.” “Yeah, that dragon – I mean, we just left it there on the bluff.” Xander jumped up from his seat and began to pace back and forth in a self-restricted square of the room. “Anyone could’ve just… damn it.” Spike shook his head. “I should’ve buried that damned spiny thing right away.” “What’s done is done. There’s no use worrying about it now,” Tara offered. “I don’t believe this,” Buffy burst out, starting a pacing pattern of her own that cut off Xander and relegated him to a corner. “He’s been using me. All this time, using me to prepare these rituals!” “In point of fact, Buffy, you didn’t actually slay either demon yourself,” said Giles. “Xander slew the dragon and Spike –” Buffy whirled to face him. “That’s not the point, Giles! He used all of us. Played us like a frickin’ violin!” Suddenly, she was questioning every demon she’d slain since her resurrection. Had she been doing this warlock’s dirty work all along? Had she just been playing into his hands? “He knows us,” Xander said. “Has to know you’re the Slayer.” Tara nodded, leaning on the back of Willow’s chair and running one hand through her lover’s limp auburn hair. “Maybe – maybe even Willow, too. Her flu…” “You think it’s a magic flu?” Buffy asked her. “An evil magic flu,” Xander chimed in. “Is that possible?” Buffy looked from Tara to where Willow appeared to be lost in a feverish haze and back to Tara again. “Could someone make her sick like this with magic?” “Sure. Best way to do it is with DNA – hair, blood, saliva.” Xander turned a knowing look on his friend. “Will? Have you drooled or bled on anyone suspicious lately?” She favored him with a weak smile. “She lost her hairbrush,” Tara said in a more serious tone. “Right before she got sick.” “No better target for a warlock than the strongest witch in town,” Spike pointed out. Buffy set her jaw and assumed her resolve face. “We gotta find out who this guy is and how I can stop him.” “Perhaps, if we could determine what the next ritual entails,” Giles said. “I’ll continue working on this section of the research. With any luck, the next few pages will shed some light on the end game.” “I can help,” Spike volunteered, earning another cautious glance from the Watcher. After a moment of weighing how much he needed the help against how dangerous Spike potentially was, Giles nodded his head. “There’s gotta be something else we can do, Giles!” Buffy said, her brow furrowed in frustration. “I feel so helpless!” “I’m afraid not,” he replied. “What we need is –” “What you need is a little extra dose of witchcraft,” a feminine voice informed them in a crisp British accent. The entire group again turned toward the door, where a woman was now standing next to Spike. The vampire jumped in surprise and began edging away from her, disconcerted by anyone who managed to sneak up on him without triggering his senses. “Emma!” Giles broke out in a relieved grin. “So good to see you.” “And you, Rupert, though I fear I’m interrupting your meeting.” She stepped forward, commanding everyone’s attention through no action or appearance, but by the power that radiated from her. She dressed plainly, in the conservative style one might expect of a female Watcher, wearing an ankle-length skirt of gray wool and a white blouse under a navy blue peacoat. Her silvery hair was tucked neatly into a simple chignon, accenting her sharpened facial features. “Not at all,” Giles assured her. “We’re just puzzling over an unsolved mystery. Involving magical rituals, if perhaps you’re interested.” She smiled, an impish thing that revealed a youthful delight in mysteries and riddles. “Always. But first, my newest pupil.” She set her gaze on Willow, picking her out of the group by honing in on her aura, laced with magic and power. The young witch’s face lit up, and in her excitement, she jumped to her feet too quickly for her ailing body to handle. “Hi, I’m Wil–” was as far as she got before she collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. ***** Willow woke up in her bed, her vision predominately filled by the visage of her new teacher, who was bending over her. “Well, that was quite an introduction,” Emma said with a kind smile. Her face was smooth and without wrinkles, but her eyes spoke of an age and wisdom more in keeping with the silver hair she kept tucked into a bun at the nape of her neck. “How do you feel?” “Like I just went ten rounds with Buffy,” Willow groaned. “Sorry about the fainting thing. I’m usually not this vertically challenged.” “You’re under the influence of quite a bit of black magic, my dear. I won’t hold it against you.” She brushed her hand across Willow’s forehead in a gentle, familiar gesture. “Get some rest now. I’ll let your friends know you’re all right.” As Willow’s eyes slipped closed again, Emma headed out to the living room, where the others were waiting anxiously for news. “She’s awake,” Emma informed them, holding up her hands to halt their collective advance toward the bedroom. “Or, rather, she was. She still needs a lot of rest. It’s best if you keep the visits to a minimum.” “Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Buffy asked. “Magic. It’s certainly a curse of some kind.” “C-can you break the spell?” Tara’s face was etched with concern. Emma shook her head. “You were right, my dear. It is thaumaturgy, and that’s not something I can break.” “What does that mean?” Xander cut in. “Thaumaturgy?” “It’s a type of black magic,” Tara explained, sitting back down on the sofa. The others followed her cue, taking the seats they’d vacated when Emma came in. “Kind of like voodoo. You make something happen on a small scale, and pour enough energy into the spell to make it happen on a large scale. You use something like hair or blood to create a conduit back to the object of the spell.” “A spell like that is nearly impossible to break without removing the conduit,” Emma added. “The most I can do is ease the pain a little. I’ll do what I can for her, but you’ll need to find whoever’s doing the spell.” “That’s kind of a problem.” Buffy bit her lip. “We don’t know who’s doing it.” “You’d better find out soon.” Tara’s eyes widened at Emma’s tone of voice. “Can – can she die from it?” “Anyone channeling this much power could kill her instantly,” Emma replied, glancing around at each of them in turn, conveying the gravity of the situation with her eyes. “From miles away, even. If the spell is cast, she’ll be dead before you even know it’s happened. Of course, they could’ve done that already if they’d wanted to. Fortunately, whoever’s doing this seems content to just keep Willow incapacitated… for now.” The Scoobies exchanged worried glances. “We’re gonna need to step it up,” Xander observed. No one disagreed with him. ***** “This is all my fault,” Buffy muttered, on the way home from the witches’ apartment. Walking beside her, Spike raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?” “I – I don’t know.” She stopped, startled by the question. “It just feels like one of those things that oughta be my fault, you know? Because I’m the Slayer. If it weren’t for me, Willow –” “Might still be a bloody powerful witch,” Spike reasoned. “You didn’t make her a target. Her powers did.” “I just wanna find this guy,” Buffy pouted. “And when I do, it’s gonna feel really good to kill him.” “Buffy…” Spike hesitated. “What if he’s human?” She opened her mouth to respond, only to find that she had no answer. “I… hadn’t thought of that. I guess… we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” They walked in silence as Buffy pondered Spike’s question. She couldn’t kill a human, could she? But he was evil… possibly ending-the-world evil, and surely that warranted slaying. But then again, human wrongs were supposed to be dealt with by the police, not her vigilante justice. And yet, how would the police handle an evil sorcerer who summoned up demons? The more she thought about it, the grayer it all became, and suddenly, Buffy realized what it must be like for Spike, having to puzzle out right and wrong when the compass didn’t always point north. “You wanna patrol?” he asked suddenly, jolting her out of her thoughts. “Could stop by my place and pick up some weapons.” “Sure.” With her agreement, they veered off the sidewalk, cutting across the cemetery toward Spike’s crypt. “Spike?” He glanced over at her tentative tone. “How are you doing? You know, with… things.” “You mean without the chip?” Spike shrugged. “Haven’t gone on a killing spree, ’f that’s what you’re asking.” “That’s not what I was asking.” She took a deep breath, as though gathering her courage. “I just… I know it must be hard for you, adjusting to this new situation… and trying to do what’s right.” Spike didn’t answer, just paused to look at her with his hand on the door to the crypt, his expression betraying how unsure he was of himself. After a moment, he headed inside and Buffy followed him, catching his arm before he could pretend to be preoccupied with gathering up stakes for patrol. “Spike,” she said, more firmly this time. “I just want you to know… I believe in you.” His eyes widened at her declaration, and then he shook his head. “I don’t know, Buffy…” “I do.” When he seemed discomfited by her serious tone, she let out a forced chuckle and added, “Come on, how many times have you saved my life now?” “Six. But who’s counting?” They both smiled, although by Buffy’s count, he was low-balling it. She stepped closer and reached out to cup his cheek with a gentle caress. “I trust you.” Spike turned into her touch, grateful for the affirmation even if he wasn’t completely sure he believed it. His fingers came up to brush against her wrist where she held his face, his thumb making tiny circles against her pulse point, almost as though he needed to convince himself that she was really touching him. “Spike?” Buffy immediately snatched her hand away at the sound of the other woman’s voice, taking several steps back. Spike tilted his head back briefly with frustration. Fuck. “Susan?” He glanced nervously toward the doorway, where Susan was taking in the scene with a quirked eyebrow, then back at Buffy, who was now cold and withdrawn, their tender moment ruined as she directed her gaze toward the door, oblivious to his longing look. Spike let out an inaudible sigh of resignation before approaching Susan, his brow furrowing with concern as it fully registered how she’d gotten there. “Told you never to come here alone at night, love. It’s not safe.” He reached behind her to shut the door. “Anything coulda taken a bite out of you.” Susan understood exactly what she’d walked in on, and it only took one look at Spike’s face to know which one of them he’d rather be with. But she also knew that Buffy would never fight for him, that she would fold in the face of competition rather than voice her unspoken feelings. Susan, on the other hand, knew what she wanted, and had the confidence to take it. She grabbed Spike’s belt and tugged him closer, smiling as though she were humoring him. “I'm a big girl, Spike.” “And a tempting meal for some demon,” Spike replied, inclining his head toward her as he ran his fingers down her arm. “Promise me you won’t put yourself in danger like that.” Shifting nervously, Buffy watched them, filled with the uncomfortable sensation that she was intruding. They seemed so intimate together, their touches casual and familiar, their interaction relaxed, even with Spike’s fear for Susan’s safety. It was a far cry from Buffy’s own tense, hesitant attempt at comfort moments earlier. “I’ll just leave you two alone,” she said, jealousy burning in her gut as she grudgingly acknowledged the other woman’s cleverness. Now that Susan was here, Spike couldn’t very well send her back out by herself, so either she got to stay, or Spike had to leave Buffy to take Susan home. Spike looked back at her, dismayed. “Buffy –” “No, I’ll go patrol. You take care of your… Susan.” She quickly skirted around them and slunk out the door. Before Spike could call her back – or even decide whether he wanted to – Susan was untucking his t-shirt so that she could slide her hands underneath. “Where’ve you been?” she asked, tracing hot trails up his chest with her fingers. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days, thought maybe she dusted you.” She tilted her head toward the door, a teasing smile on her face. Spike shook his head, taking a step back, out of Susan’s reach. She immediately sensed his discomfort. “What’s wrong?” “She knows. Buffy knows about us.” “Well, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Susan asked, folding her arms across her chest. “To make her jealous?” “I never wanted to hurt her.” Susan snorted. “Right. She’s allowed to hurt you, but God forbid you respond in kind.” Spike’s head snapped up, his body tensing defensively at her words. “It’s not like that.” “What is it like, then?” When he didn’t answer, she pressed, “Is that the reason you haven’t been around? Because she told you not to?” Spike shook his head again. “It’s not just that.” He took a deep breath. “My chip’s not working anymore. I wasn’t sure what it – if I’d… I didn’t want to risk hurting you.” Susan came to him, putting her arms around him and kissing him firmly. “You won’t.” At her comforting touch, Spike relaxed, seeking her lips for another, deeper kiss. Susan’s hands crept back under his shirt, shoving it up as far as it could go with the duster still on. He sank into the kiss as she massaged the tension from his back, letting the feeling wash over him and easing his doubts with each swirl of her tongue against his. Finally, Susan pulled away, breaking for air. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fall in love with you, Spike,” she murmured against his throat, reassuring him, in the wake of Buffy’s withdrawal, that he was lovable. “But you’re making it very difficult.” ***** Buffy found Jacob in the kitchen washing dishes when she returned home after a less-than-satisfying patrol. “Hey,” she greeted him, giving him a peck on the lips. She gestured at the sink. “You don’t have to do this.” “I don’t mind. How’s Willow?” “Not good.” Buffy sank down on one of the stools at the island, and Jacob quickly turned off the water and dried his hands, coming over to sit beside her. “She’s got some kind of magical illness. A curse or something. Giles’ Wiccan friend from England showed up, but she couldn’t help her.” Buffy leaned her elbows on the counter and let her head fall into her hands. “I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do, and I –” She broke off suddenly, pressing her fingertips hard into her forehead, while Jacob rubbed gentle circles on her back. “It’s okay. You’ll get through it. You always do, if all the stories Willow told me are true.” Buffy looked up with a grateful smile. “Thanks for coming over again. Dawn doesn’t really need a babysitter, but the last thing I need is for her to decide teenage rebellion is the way to go and sneak out of the house or something.” “It’s okay,” Jacob assured her. “We’re actually starting to get along.” “Well, yeah. You bribed her with TV.” She wasn’t disapproving, but she gave him a dubious look. “Where’d you get that charm thing, anyway? Did Tara make it for you?” Jacob shook his head. “I made it.” At Buffy’s surprised expression, he added, “My grandma was all into spells and stuff. I don’t have any actual talent or anything, but I can manage Magic for Dummies.” “Oh.” “You’re not… mad, are you?” “No,” Buffy replied, her voice tired. “I’m just glad you guys are getting along. I think it’s about the only thing that’s going right these days.” “You mean Willow?” “Yeah. And this warlock guy – who, it turns out, we’ve inadvertently been helping by slaying demons for him. And then Spike’s chip, on top of everything else.” “Spike.” “I’m worried about him,” Buffy sighed, not catching Jacob’s clipped tone. “Buffy, I don’t think Spike’s the one you need to worry about. It’s everyone else who might get eaten.” “He wouldn’t hurt anyone!” she insisted. “I know he can do this… I just don’t know if he knows it,” she finished softly, her tone and expression making her affection for the vampire obvious. Jacob paused, turning away from her as his eyes clouded over with disappointment. “Buffy… listen. I don’t really know how to say this, but – this thing with Spike…” “The chip.” “Not the chip.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You. This thing you have with Spike, it’s –” “It’s not like that,” Buffy interrupted, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “What you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I just – I’m worried about him, that’s all.” Jacob shook his head. “Buffy, I think… maybe you’re a little bit in love with him.” Her eyes widened. “I’m not!” The denial came easily, but it left a queasy feeling in her gut to hear Jacob’s accusation spoken out loud. “But he’s in love with you, right?” “He’s – it’s complicated.” “It always is,” Jacob replied flatly, shoving the stool back and heading for the living room. Buffy jumped up and hurried after him, catching him by the arm. “Jacob, wait! Don’t… don’t go.” He stopped, turning to look her in the eye, his expression unyielding but not harsh. “Is that what you really want?” “Of course it is,” Buffy replied, more confidently than she felt, a fact that was unnerving to her. “Come on. Let’s just – let’s go to bed, okay?”

Chapter #11 - Underneath the Mistletoe

Chapter 11: Underneath the Mistletoe Spike opened the basement door to the Magic Box to find Giles pointing a crossbow at him. He quickly held up his hands to protest his innocence. “No need for that. Here to help, Rupert.” “Be that as it may, considering your current… condition, I don’t feel particularly comfortable having you around without Buffy's supervision,” Giles replied coldly. “So you'll have to forgive me if I take extra precautions until she arrives.” Spike rolled his eyes and shrugged, giving the Watcher a wide berth as he headed for the research table. Surveying the scattered materials, he asked, “What needs work?” Reluctantly, Giles set down his crossbow in order to sift through the papers. He handed Spike an ancient-looking text that had several pages flagged with post-its, and an English-to-Etruscan dictionary. Spike stared at it. “This is not a language I speak.” “Half of it’s in Latin. You’ll be fine.” His brusque, dismissive tone mostly masked the implied compliment to Spike’s abilities, but it mollified the vampire enough for him to settle at the table and begin working. They sat in awkward silence for over an hour, only speaking to clarify a translation or ask a work-related question. Every time Spike thought about making small talk, he glanced at the crossbow resting within Giles’ reach and changed his mind. “This looks like another one of those rituals,” Spike said finally. “If I’m reading it right, the penultimate one.” “Penultimate to what?” “Haven’t figured that out yet. Just know this ritual involves a human sacrifice… ‘in preparation for the grand event,’ near as I can tell.” “Let me see.” Spike handed over the text along with his scribbled notes. “Looks like another blood ritual. There’s the usual song and dance, and then the, uh, participant… drinks the blood of the sacrifice.” “Well, I suppose that’s your area of expertise, isn’t it?” The vampire’s head snapped up at the icy words, finding that Giles had fixed him with a hard stare. “What would you do, Rupert,” Spike asked, his tone deceptively casual, “if I told you I’d killed someone last night?” He raised his eyebrows, never looking away from the Watcher’s gaze. “What would you do? Have the Slayer put me down like a rabid dog?” “No.” Giles picked up the crossbow and aimed it at him. “I’d do it myself.” Just then, Buffy walked in the door, taking in the tableau with a horrified gasp. “Oh, my God, what are you – Giles! Are you holding him at gunpoint?” “Crossbow, actually,” Spike pointed out. “Much more effective.” “Giles!” Buffy rushed over and snatched the weapon out of her Watcher’s hands. “Spike isn’t dangerous. End of discussion. There will be no threatening of any kind!” Giles’ forehead creased with surprise at the sudden reversal of taking orders from his charge, but he acquiesced with a nod. He wasn’t in the mood for an argument, and Spike had been well-behaved. “Of course.” “Was just showin’ Rupert the ritual I found,” Spike said, quickly changing the subject. “Looks like it’s the last step before the big finish. If we can get a bead on when it’s supposed to happen, maybe we can stop it.” “And if we stop it,” Buffy picked up the thread, a broad grin spreading across her face, “then Mr. Big Bad Warlock can’t do whatever comes next. Spike, that’s awesome. I knew you’d be able to help.” Excitement getting the better of her, she flung her arms around his neck. Startled, he hugged her back tentatively. It only took a moment for Buffy to feel awkward, and she pulled away quickly, avoiding Spike’s curious gaze. “So, what do we have to do?” she asked, directing her question to her Watcher. “How do we stop the ritual?” “There’s a ceremonial blade,” Giles explained, peering over the text. “I think I’m familiar with…” He sifted through the books on the table, pulling out one of his large reference tomes and flipping to a page full of sketches of knives. “Yes. The Lothorian dagger. It was lost over a century ago, but it’s believed to be buried in…” “In a crypt in Sunnydale,” Buffy finished dryly. Giles glanced up in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?” “Because everything evil ends up here eventually. Haven’t you been paying attention for the last five years? Which crypt? I’ll go get it right now.” “Ah, well… I’m not sure.” “Giles!” “Well, it’s not like they left us a map and a decoder ring, now is it?” “So, what are we supposed to do?” she asked. “Check every crypt in Sunnydale?” “I can tell you right now, it’s not mine.” Buffy shot Spike a look, but he just shrugged. “What? It’s a place to start.” “I’m working on it, Buffy,” Giles assured her, heading into the shop’s office and coming out with a map of Sunnydale. “If I had detailed records of who is buried in each cemetery, that would be of some help.” “That’s computer stuff,” Buffy replied, her face falling. “Willow. I can’t –” “Call her anyway,” Spike suggested. “Maybe she can walk Tara through it, at least.” ***** Three hours later, after much map-checking and cross-referencing, and a little illegal hacking of cemetery records courtesy of the witches, Giles finally looked up from his notes. “I think I’ve narrowed it down to these three crypts,” he said, handing the list to Spike, who was seated across the table, still working on translation. Spike studied the names Giles had scribbled. “This one’s right near me.” Buffy hurried over, taking it out of Spike’s hand to see for herself. She tore the paper in two, right between the names of the crypts, handing one half back to Spike. “Okay, let’s split up. I’ll check Lakeview; you hit the one by the railroad tracks. We’ll meet up at the one by your place.” Spike nodded. The sun had set while they were preoccupied with research, and it was now plenty dark enough for him to head outside. They walked together in silence until they reached the end of Main Street, at which point Buffy would have to turn in the direction of the residential neighborhood while Spike veered off toward the outskirts of town. Before they parted ways, Spike grasped Buffy’s arm. “Be careful, Slayer.” She met his eyes and nodded. “You, too.” Buffy’s trek to the crypt was uneventful. It was almost as though the vampires and demons in town had realized that something big was going down, and they were staying out of the way for their own good. When she reached the cemetery, she scouted out the crypts until she found the one Giles thought was the likely resting place of the ceremonial dagger. The door creaked as she pushed it open, and she brushed aside the cobwebs in her path, stepping cautiously into the crypt. She ran her hands lightly along the stone walls, looking for any sign of a concealed compartment where the dagger might have been hidden. But there were no ancient carvings, no cracks that didn’t match the seams of the stone, and definitely no X marks the spot. Which is a shame, because I could really use a clue about now. Not finding anything on the walls, Buffy turned her attention to the sarcophagus in the middle of the crypt. She inspected that as well for potential hiding places, but finding none, she grabbed the edge of the lid and shoved the stone slab onto the ground. Peering into the coffin, she wrinkled her nose. “Nothing but dead guy,” she muttered. With a sigh, she turned back toward the door, not bothering to replace the cover of the sarcophagus. “Let’s hope Spike has better luck.” ***** “Bollocks. There’s nothing here.” Letting out a noise of disgust, Spike strode out of the crypt and headed back toward his own cemetery. He would’ve liked something to slay, just to take the edge off the ever-present bloodlust, but the town was strangely quiet. As he rounded the corner of his crypt, Spike got his wish. The demon was dressed in human clothes, but his skin was a tough leathery hide, a ruddy reddish-brown color, and he had twin rows of horns protruding from either side of his jaw and forehead. He was also armed with a stake in one hand and a sword in the other. “Spike,” the demon growled, taking a menacing step toward him. “Do I know you?” Spike replied, edging away from the crypt so the demon couldn’t get him trapped against a wall. “I don’t owe you money, do I? ’Cause if I do, you know I’m good for it, yeah?” “I’m not here to chat.” Brandishing his sword to emphasize that point, the demon rushed Spike, forcing him to duck out of the path of the slashing blade. “Right.” Spike danced backward on the balls of his feet, wishing he had a bigger weapon than just fists and fangs. “Skip the small talk, then. Get right to the fight to the death.” He went for a punch, but had to jerk back without making contact to avoid getting his arm sliced off. There was little for him to do but dodge and feint as the sword kept him out of attack range. If he could just get inside his crypt, he had a whole stash in his weapons chest, but the demon seemed to realize the advantage of keeping Spike away from the door. He brought the sword down across Spike’s body, slashing through his t-shirt and leaving a deep gash across his middle. Spike stumbled at the sudden sharp pain, only to be knocked backward with a fierce punch. Before he could recover, he was hit again, and this time he fell to the ground. The demon lunged at him with the stake, and only a quick twist of his upper body saved him from a dusting. The stake ripped through muscle and tissue, embedding in his left shoulder. “Ow!” Spike said indignantly. “That bloody hurt!” He kicked the demon back with both feet and then kipped up off the ground, despite the pain that shot through him with the maneuver. He nearly fell back down again, but he gritted his teeth and shoved one arm into the gaping wound in his belly. Closing his other fist around the stake, he yanked it free with a grunt. The demon came at him again with the sword, leaving another bloody slice, this time in his right arm. Spike managed a roundhouse kick that knocked the sword out of the demon’s hand, and he jabbed the stake into its eye. Howling in pain, the demon blindly lashed out at Spike, landing a blow to his midsection by pure luck. His fist drove right into Spike’s already shredded stomach and the vampire doubled over in agony. This gave the demon a chance to reclaim the sword, and with it in hand, he knocked Spike to the ground again with a kick to the chest. Spike’s head smashed against the wall of his crypt, and he found himself cornered, weaponless, and bleeding. His vision swimming, he tried to push himself up, using the wall for support, but before he could get to his feet, the demon raised the sword for a decapitating blow. Spike closed his eyes as he felt the stinging blade bite into his throat, feeling a vague bit of apprehension at the impending oblivion. But oblivion never came. He opened his eyes to see the demon sprawled on the ground a few feet away, a furious, fiery Slayer standing between them. Before the demon had a chance to rise, she was on him, pummeling him with strength remarkable even for the Slayer. The demon threw her off and got to his feet, but she was quicker. With a flick of her foot, she flipped the sword off the ground and into her hand, driving it through the demon’s chest. It collapsed with a gasp, and Buffy, satisfied with the kill, turned back to Spike. Her face immediately shifted into an expression of horror. She tumbled to the ground at his side where he had propped himself up against the wall of his crypt. “Spike!” Rivers of blood poured from his multiple wounds, and his head lolled to the side. Acting purely on instinct, Buffy leapt to her feet and yanked the sword out of the demon, cutting a jagged slice across her own wrist. Cradling him carefully, she pressed the cut to his mouth, forcing him to drink. He only took a few mouthfuls before pushing her away. “You have to go.” “I’m not leaving you.” “The dagger, Buffy! You – you gotta get there before they do. I’ll be all right.” Buffy hesitated a moment, but she knew he was right. Torn, she leaned over and kissed Spike quickly, tasting her own blood on his lips, and then she ran off toward the third crypt. She wasn’t the first visitor of the night. As she flung open the door, a black-robed demon with a hood concealing its face came barreling out, the dagger in hand. She tackled him to the ground, trying to get her hands on the knife. The demon, though not as strong as the one she’d just fought, managed to wriggle out of her grasp, flinging her off as he leapt to his feet. Giving chase, Buffy vaulted off a raised headstone and delivered a crushing kick to the demon’s back, dropping him to his hands and knees. She moved to leap on top, but found herself jumping right onto the knife blade as the demon flipped onto his back. It drove into her thigh, only to be yanked roughly back out, its serrated edges tearing through her flesh, and she rolled to the side with a cry of pain. Rising to her feet again with less than the usual Slayer speed, Buffy ran after the fleeing demon with an uneven, loping stride, but she lost sight of him as she came to the edge of the cemetery. “Dammit!” she cried, shoulders sagging in defeat as she limped back to where she’d left Spike, the wound in her thigh throbbing. When she got back to Spike’s crypt, he’d managed to get himself inside and was sprawled on the chair on the upper level. “You get the goods?” he asked, when he heard the door open. Buffy shook her head despondently. “Demon guy beat me to it.” “We still got one more chance. Stop the final ritual.” He paused, focusing on her scent. “You’re bleeding.” “So’re you.” Buffy came over to the chair and crouched down, looking over Spike’s injuries with guilty eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish I’d gotten here sooner.” Not to be pitied, Spike eased himself up off the chair and headed for the refrigerator to get some blood, in an attempt to show her that he was fine. “Just a few flesh wounds. Be fine in a day or so.” Buffy stopped him, ghosting a hand over the gash at his neck. The blade had cut a deep tear into his throat, and would’ve sliced through cleanly if she hadn’t shown up to knock the demon off balance. “That thing almost killed you.” Her stomach gave a sickening lurch at the thought. “Do – do you have a first aid kit?” Spike nodded toward the hole in the floor. “Downstairs.” By the time Buffy came back up with it, he had fixed himself a mug of blood and was gulping it down. As soon as he was through, she pushed the duster back off his shoulders, paying no heed to his protestations. “Stop it,” she said, forcing him to stop wiggling out of her grasp as she stripped him of the coat. “You’re gonna make the cuts open up again.” Tentatively, she pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans and carefully lifted it up. Spike hissed as the dried blood gluing the shirt to his stomach wounds tore apart. “Sorry. It’s just a bit… There,” Buffy said, as she got the shirt above the gash. Once the fabric was loose, she slid her hands up his sides, and then over his upraised arms, pulling the shirt off. It occurred to Spike that she probably didn’t need to touch him quite that much, but he wasn’t in any position to complain. “So, what the hell was that thing?” Buffy asked, as she got to work bandaging his wounds. “Kailiff demon, I think. Usually work as muscle for other demons, or bounty hunters. I’d wager our warlock friend sent him.” “Because of the dagger?” Spike shrugged. “Maybe. Or it mighta just wanted to take me out.” When Buffy looked at him curiously, he went on, “I think it might’ve been a hit. That demon was just hangin’ around, waitin’ for me to show up. Hey, that’s enough.” He batted away the roll of white gauze in her hands, which she’d already used to wrap his midsection, his left shoulder, and his right bicep, and was now trying to figure out the best way to cover the gash on his neck. “Gonna make me look like a mummy.” “Too bad.” She tilted her head to the side. “Can I just, like, tie this around your throat?” “Why? ’Fraid my head’s gonna fall off?” She shoved him gently in his good shoulder. “Don’t joke. I need to do your neck somehow.” “Well, you can’t choke me, so…” “Wanna test that out?” she asked with mock menace, but she did start wrapping the gauze around his neck loose enough that it would be comfortable, even though he didn’t need to breathe. Once she was working again, she picked up their conversation. “So, you think this demon was connected to the warlock?” “I think he hired him. Makes sense, right? Went after Red, now me. Taking out your strongest fighters.” At his words, Buffy’s hands froze. “I can’t lose you,” she breathed, dropping the gauze and grasping the hair at the nape of his neck as though she could keep him alive just by holding on. “Not goin’ anywhere,” he whispered hoarsely. Spike swallowed hard at her closeness, the tenderness in her expression, and the undeniable intimacy. He dipped his head, and when she didn’t pull away from him, he let his lips meet hers. She didn’t resist the kiss, relaxing her death grip on his hair to let her fingers gently massage the back of his neck. The hesitant caress of her mouth intensified against his, and he felt her exhale against his skin, her lips parting in a yearning sigh. Spike caught her bottom lip between his teeth, licking and nibbling until she whimpered with need. Taking it as permission, he deepened the kiss, his arms snaking around her as his tongue swept fervently into her mouth. She had forgotten what it was like, kissing him. Had forgotten how he could make the world disappear, could kiss her until it was difficult to remember her own name. He overwhelmed her senses, and her entire body called out to him, begging for more, begging to get lost completely in his embrace. It was a terrifying feeling for her, who never gave herself completely to anyone, and yet she craved it. It filled her with the same exhilarating high she felt when she fought, when she slayed. The thrill of danger, of death, of risking everything she knew and everything she was. She had never been able to give her heart fully, to him or any other since Angel, had never mastered the art of surrendering herself to love – but for this one moment, she could give him everything. Spike slid his hands up her bare back, inside her clothes, leaving a trail of gooseflesh that made Buffy shiver. He hardened instantly at the discovery that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and slowly slid his thumbs forward until they grazed the curves of her breasts. In response, Buffy let go of him to shrug out of her coat, letting it fall to the floor on top of his duster and his bloody shirt. His hands returned to her with magnetic urgency, brushing across her nipples with the pads of his thumbs. Buffy arched into him, catlike, a moan vibrating in her throat as her mouth pressed insistently against his, her fingers running over any part of his skin that wasn’t covered in bandages. Their numerous injuries had slipped their minds in the heat of the moment, but they were given a fierce reminder as Buffy’s injured leg suddenly buckled under her weight. Spike attempted to support her, but he felt the pain ripping through him as he tried to use his severed muscles. They collapsed in a heap on the coat pile, breaking the kiss as frenetic giggles consumed them. Spike drew in a deep breath, running his gaze over Buffy, her small frame slowly stilling as the laughter faded. He was bandaged like a mummy, she was covered in his blood, and both of them could barely stand, but it was still the most romantic kiss he’d ever had. In that moment, he was absolutely sure that Buffy was in love with him. The girl in question rolled over, sobered now, and rested her head on his chest. “What are we doing?” she murmured, a doleful expression on her face. His heart sinking at her sudden change in demeanor, Spike stroked her hair. “Buffy…” “No, I – oh, God.” “Yeah,” he replied, reluctantly letting her go and pushing himself into a sitting position, the gauze around his waist crinkling. “We can’t… we can’t do this. You have a boyfriend, and I have a – a Susan.” Buffy swallowed down the lump in her throat at his words, a whirlwind of emotions hitting her all at once. She couldn’t believe how easily she’d forgotten their attachments, and she was overwhelmed with guilt. And yet, she couldn’t help hearing a note of rejection in Spike’s words, as though their kiss had changed nothing between them. Do I want it to change things? She thought of Jacob’s accusation – I think maybe you’re a little bit in love with him – and her immediate denial. Was it possible Jacob had seen something she hadn’t? As she climbed unsteadily to her feet, Spike noticed the cut on her wrist where she’d tried to feed him. “Let me get that for you.” Following his gaze, she caught his meaning and cradled her wrist to her chest. “No, I’m okay.” “You did it for me,” he insisted. Reluctantly, she held out her arm to him and he bandaged it for her, picking up the gauze she’d dropped on the floor. “Anyplace else?” They both glanced down at the bloodstain on her thigh, and it occurred to them simultaneously that she’d have to take her pants off for him to reach it. Considering what they’d done with most of their clothes on, taking off any more was definitely a bad idea. “I think I’m fine, really,” Buffy replied in a rush. “Right.” Nervous and fidgety, Spike forced himself to look around the crypt, anywhere but at her. “You should go tell Rupert about the demons.” Buffy nodded, taking a few steps away from him. She tried to think of something to say, but words completely failed her. An ache settled in her chest, a weighty combination of guilt, regret, and longing. Turning to go, she immediately spun back around and flew at him, kissing him again. She was rougher this time, more desperate, and he broke off the kiss with an “Ow.” “Sorry,” she said, letting him go and dropping her head sheepishly. “Buffy. Go.” “But –” Spike cut her off with a shake of his head, sending her away, assuming that was what she really wanted. To go back to her boyfriend and forget about their little indiscretion. Even if she couldn’t seem to keep her hands off him now, she’d surely wish she had later. “This never happened.” The words hit her like a ton of bricks. He didn’t want her after all. He’d tested it out, and decided she wasn’t worth breaking up with Susan. Crushed by the rejection, Buffy turned and fled from the crypt before Spike could see her cry.

Chapter #12 - As the Snow Starts to Fall

Chapter 12: As the Snow Starts to Fall It took two days for the body to turn up. With nothing else to do but sit at Willow’s bedside and worry, Tara diligently checked the police reports until she found a victim that matched the ritual killing described in Spike’s translation. Buffy and Giles visited both the morgue and the crime scene to look for clues to the evil mage’s identity, but their search was fruitless. They even pulled Emma away from her care of Willow in the hopes of detecting some sort of magical residue from the ritual, but she, too, found nothing. Apparently, this warlock was very good at covering his tracks. Buffy had been avoiding Spike ever since their kiss in his crypt. Her stomach fluttered with longing every time she thought about it, which quickly hardened into a painful fist, twisting in her belly. She felt guilty for not telling Jacob, and yet she also felt ashamed at how hurt she was by Spike’s suggestion that they pretend it never happened. This state of confusion had her also steering clear of Jacob, for fear of what she would say to him, if she’d even be able to look him in the eye – so she was caught off guard when he showed up at the house as she was in the kitchen, cleaning up Dawn’s latest Christmas project. “Been powdering your nose?” he asked playfully, wiping a white smudge off her nose. “We were baking.” “I can see that,” Jacob replied, surveying the countertops covered with cooling cookies. “My mom used to make these great Christmas cookies every year – her special tradition, you know?” Buffy said, talking very fast. “And it just doesn’t feel like Christmas without them. It’s like – like, I don’t know, Halloween without pumpkins or something.” She realized she was guilt-rambling, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Except you don’t eat the pumpkins. It’s – candy? Halloween without –” “I get it,” Jacob said softly, quieting her with both hands on her shoulders. “Anyway, Dawn and I decided to try it ourselves,” Buffy finished with a forced-casual shrug. “How’d that go?” “Pretty much like you’d expect. Tears, recriminations. Me threatening to shove Dawn in the oven, Dawn threatening to call Child Services…” “But the cookies got baked?” “Mostly. And we only dropped one tray.” Buffy gave a troubled look down at a spot on the kitchen floor. “Kinda wish we had a dog.” Jacob tipped her chin back up so that she was looking at him. “Buffy, is everything okay?” “Sure, fine. Everything’s fine. Why?” “You seem… distracted.” “I’m sorry,” Buffy sighed. “It’s just… a girl turned up dead this morning, we think from that ritual we were trying to stop.” She let her tense muscles relax slightly as Jacob wrapped her into a sympathetic hug. That was one good thing about being the Slayer – at least if she was upset or worried about something she didn’t want to discuss, there was always some innocent victim on which to blame her erratic behavior. “I’m sorry, babe. I know you were hoping to get rid of this guy before that happened.” He pulled back to meet her eyes. “Although, I have to admit, I’m a little bit relieved. When I didn’t hear from you for a couple days, I was worried that you were mad at me.” “Why would I be mad?” Buffy asked, with honest bewilderment. “Because of what I said the other day, about Spike. I know there’s nothing going on between you two, I just… I was jealous, and it got the better of me.” Buffy stiffened again, swallowing hard around the sudden lump in her throat. “N-no. Nothing – nothing to do with that. I just… got a little banged up fighting that demon the other night, and I needed some time to recuperate. That’s all.” She pressed a quick, firm kiss to Jacob’s mouth as if to prove her point. Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good, because there’s something I wanted to ask you.” “What?” Buffy asked cautiously. “My dad invited us over for dinner on Friday night, so I wanted to ask if you wanted to go.” “Dinner? With your dad?” Buffy’s eyes widened. “Are we – are we at the parent-meeting stage already?” Jacob smiled. “Don’t panic. It’s just ’cause it’s Christmas. I’m going out to Chicago for Christmas Eve, so Dad thought we could get together a little early.” “A-and he wants me to come?” “He said he wants to meet you.” He pulled her in for another kiss. “Really, don’t worry about it.” “Okay,” Buffy said hesitantly, feeling as though she owed him, and she ought to give him whatever he asked for. She forced a smile to her lips. “Dinner Friday sounds great.” ***** Susan smiled as she opened her apartment door. “I should just stop worrying about you, shouldn’t I? Every time you disappear, I start thinking something’s happened, but there you are.” Spike gave her a grim smile. “Got laid up for a couple days.” He tilted his head to one side, calling her attention to the angry red line across his pale throat, where the wound from his near-beheading hadn’t quite healed. Susan gasped. “Spike – who – ?” Before she could get any more out, Spike lifted his shirt to show her the similar gash across his midsection. “Oh, my God, Spike.” She ghosted her hand over his stomach, lifting her head to meet his gaze with horrified eyes. “What – who did this to you?” “Demon. No worries, pet. It’s dead now.” “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve –” “What? Come over to play nursemaid?” Spike shook his head. “Didn’t need that.” Rather than allowing herself to be hurt by the brush off, Susan flashed him a flirtatious smile, sliding her hands back under his shirt, seductive but careful not to aggravate his injuries. “Well, you’re here now. Maybe we could play something else.” She winked at him. Spike cleared his throat uncomfortably, catching Susan’s wrists and easing her hands away from his body. “Actually, love… the reason I came over is… well, because I – I needed to say… to tell you I can’t do this anymore.” “Oh.” Susan stepped back, taking that in. “So, Buffy finally came to her senses?” “No,” Spike said quietly. “I just… I love her, and I can’t…” He closed his eyes, holding in his emotions. “’S never gonna work, bein’ with somebody else.” “It’s okay.” She nodded, having expected this day to come sooner or later. “I get it.” He looked at her for a long moment, then brought his hands up and pulled her face toward his until their lips met in one last, lingering kiss. “Thank you,” Spike said finally. “For everything.” ***** “Hey, guys,” Buffy said in greeting as she walked into the Magic Box. Anya glanced over from the cash register, but went back to counting money once she realized it wasn’t a customer. Giles and Spike both looked up from their research, and Buffy quickly averted her gaze to avoid the vampire’s eyes. “Any, uh, any news?” “Not yet, no,” Giles sighed. “I hope to decipher the specifics of the ritual shortly, to perhaps give us a clue as to where and how to stop it. Spike is researching the background, trying to determine what this series of rituals will ultimately accomplish.” “Division of labor. Good.” She felt her throat starting to close up, her chest tightening at the mere presence of Spike, reminded once more of the embarrassment of his rejection. “I have to – I’m gonna –” Unable to finish her sentence, she simply gestured toward the training room before fleeing in that direction. The door had barely closed behind her when she let out a single hiccupping sob. She shook her head with determination, drawing in a deep, calming breath. It doesn’t matter. So he doesn’t want you – so what? You don’t want him anyway. “I do,” she whispered aloud. “Oh, God, I do.” A knock on the door startled her, and she shoved away from it, propelling herself across the room so that she was busily pounding the punching bag by the time the door swung slowly open. “Buffy?” Spike said cautiously. She ignored him, whaling on the bag with all her strength. “I thought maybe we should… talk.” “Nothing to talk about,” she replied between punches. Catching the swinging bag, she paused her assault and turned to face him. “It never happened, right?” Spike hesitated for a moment, feeling the sting of his own words as they were thrown back in his face. “Yeah. Right. Never happened.” Buffy nodded and turned back to the punching bag without a word. “So, I guess that means you’re cross with me for some other reason, then,” Spike ventured. “I’m not cross,” she said, though the violent kicks she delivered to the punching bag begged to differ. “I’m just not – ungh – very comfortable – ungh – being around you right now.” She paused again to catch her breath. “I wouldn’t want to risk that thing that never happened… not happening. Again.” Spike sighed. “Buffy…” “No.” The hurt was evident in her voice. “You made your position perfectly clear the other night. Please, just leave me alone.” His brow furrowed, but before he could speak, Giles poked his head into the training room. “Buffy? You should come out here. I think I’ve found something.” Pushing past Spike without acknowledging him, Buffy headed back into the shop. “What is it, Giles?” He looked at her with a grave expression. “I’ve translated the final ritual.” “And?” “It involves a death… and a resurrection.” Buffy sat down abruptly, shock registering on her face. After a moment, she recovered and frowned. “Well, I’m definitely not gonna cooperate for that. Been there, done that, didn’t enjoy it much.” “A human sacrifice is to be given to Osiris, the Egyptian god of death and resurrection. He or she is – will be… dismembered,” Giles explained, stumbling over the words in his revulsion at what he was saying. “In mimicry of Osiris’ own death, at the hands of his brother.” “Okay, eww.” “Believe it or not, that – that’s not the most troubling part. The ritual requires that the sacrifice be one who… has already died and been brought back to life.” Buffy’s eyes grew wide. “Giles… that’s me. You’re talking about me!” She leapt up, snatching the dusty old text from his hands, staring at it as though it could give her answers, even though it was in hieroglyphics that she couldn’t read. “This guy’s gonna kill me?” “No,” Spike stepped in, gently but firmly taking the book away from Buffy. “Not gonna let that happen. We’re going to stop this, Buffy.” “How? We haven’t been able to stop anything else he’s done.” “Well, there are some clues,” Giles offered. “For instance, the ritual requires a sacred space.” “Like a church?” Buffy asked. “Or a pagan temple?” “No… nothing that… structural. It’s simply a magical purification of a – a room or a building. There would be traces of the magic used to create such a place. I could have Emma –” “Right.” She rolled her eyes. “’Cause no one else in Sunnydale practices magic.” “Well, here is something quite specific,” Giles tried again. “The warlock would need an Osiris stone, and there are only so many places one can purchase one of those.” “Uh-oh,” Anya said quietly, startling the others, as they’d forgotten she was there. “What-oh, Anya?” Buffy asked, her tone suspicious. “Well, one of those places – where you can buy an Osiris stone? Is here.” Faster than they’d ever seen him move, Giles was across the room and gripping the counter separating him from Anya. “Have you sold one recently?” “Maybe a month ago? To a man in a business suit, your age.” She shrugged. “He seemed nice enough. He socialized with Willow.” Now Buffy and Spike were crowded around Anya as well, and Buffy had to resist the urge to shake the information out of the ex-demon. “Did Willow know him?” she demanded. “Do you know his name?” Anya shook her head, shrinking away from the forceful Slayer. “No – no, she just met him. I think he only gave us a first name… I could check the receipts. Maybe he paid by credit card.” Fortunately, it was enough for Buffy to back off slightly. “Okay. You do that. Who else was here that day? I’ll see if they remember anything.” “Xander… Willow. Dawn. You and Tara were in the back, I think.” “Good. Giles?” When the Watcher looked up, she asked, “You’ll keep working?” He nodded. Buffy started to hurry toward the door when Spike’s voice stopped her. “Buffy? What do you want me to do?” The expression on his face indicated that he wanted to go with her, but she couldn’t deal with that right now. “Help Giles.” ***** “You sure it’s safe to be out here alone?” Buffy heard the voice ask from behind her as she crossed the cemetery. “What with someone tryin’ to kill you an’ all.” “I can handle myself,” she replied coolly, turning to face him. “What do you want, Spike?” “Thought if you were patrolling, I could help.” “You wanna help? Go back to the Magic Box and figure out how I can not die again.” “No luck with the Scoobies?” Spike asked, ignoring her harsh tone and tagging along as she started walking again. Buffy shook her head. “Dawn and Xander figured out it was the same day Giles came back with all this research, after his friend got murdered. And it was the day you got kidnapped. But nothing useful.” “Anya couldn’t find anything, either. Guess the bloke paid in cash.” “Will gave me a first name – David. That’s all she could remember, but that doesn’t really narrow it down very much.” “Well, you figure eventually he’s gotta show himself, right? I mean, he can’t very well dismember you without –” “Stop. Just stop, okay?” Buffy interrupted, holding up her hand. “Don’t try to be comforting.” “Right, so you won’t have to pretend that never happened either?” “No, because you’re incredibly bad at it! I mean, God! You’re talking about dismemberment –” Midsentence, she whirled around to face him. “And for the record, you were the one who wanted to pretend it never happened.” Spike blinked in surprise. “What? I –” “You didn’t want me!” His jaw dropped at her declaration, and he didn’t miss the waver in her voice. Ashamed of revealing her vulnerability, Buffy tried to walk away from him, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in close. “Buffy, listen to me. I will always want you. I love you more than anything.” Her brow creased, her stubborn certainty faltering. “Then, why…?” “Said what I did ’cause I thought it was what you wanted to hear. Thought you wanted to forget about it and go back to your boyfriend.” Buffy dropped her gaze to the ground. “I thought you… that I wasn’t… good enough.” Spike’s heart broke at her dismayed tone. Cupping her face in his hands, he turned her head up to look at him. A thousand lines of poetry ran through his mind, to tell her how perfect she was, but in the end he just pulled her into an earnest, passionate kiss, the one argument she could not refute. Her mouth parted for him eagerly, and Spike could taste her relief as he persuaded her with lips and tongue that he could never find her lacking. An errant tear spilled from her brimming eyelid, and Spike quickly kissed it off her cheek. He continued along its chosen path, down to her jaw and then her throat, leaving a line of kisses as he went. Buffy’s fingers threaded through his hair, pulling his carefully gelled curls out of their hardened shell. She tugged his head back up so that she could kiss him again, her mouth desperately seeking his. Her entire body pulsed with desire, and her hands skated downward, scrabbling at his clothes, trying to touch his skin. Spike turned his attention back to her neck, where he nibbled with blunt teeth and sucked hard enough to leave a mark. Buffy mewled, arching into him, feeling his erection pressed against her lower belly. She reached down, sliding her palm experimentally over the hard bulge of his jeans, causing Spike to emit a groan. Her warm hand encasing his cock was too much for him, and Spike pushed Buffy back against a tall monument, fumbling one-handed with the buttons of his fly. Desperate to get their clothes off and trying to do too many things at once, he left his fly half-open and lifted Buffy’s legs to wrap around his waist, shoving her shirt up so that he could take one of her nipples in his mouth. As the stone scraped against her bare back, Buffy suddenly felt a prickling sensation that had nothing to do with what Spike was doing to her. “Stop,” she said, breathless and urgent, as he was tugging at her pants. “Spike, please… stop. Put me down.” Stilling his hands, he raised his head from her breast, confusion and disappointment evident on his face. “Yeah… all right, pet,” Spike said with resignation, gently easing her down so her feet were touching the ground again. “I need a stake,” she said briskly, as she straightened her clothes. “You – what?” She was probably a terrible person for finding his horror-struck expression amusing, but she couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “Not for you. For the vampire that just rose over by the mausoleum.” “Oh.” Relieved, he dug through his duster pockets until he came up with one and handed it to her. “Won’t be long.” When she returned a few minutes later, Spike was leaning against the gravestone with his head tilted back, his pants still undone and his hair tousled. A curl of smoke rose from the cigarette in his hand, dangling casually at his side. His eyes were closed, but a small smile crept across his face, and she knew he’d sensed her coming. Probably smelled the big honkin’ cloud of lust, she thought, as his sexy pose and rumpled “fuck me” look sent another bolt of heat through her. But the interruption had given her desperate desire a chance to cool, and she was far more in control of herself than she had been. She realized the depth of what they’d been about to do, and she knew she wasn’t ready for it. When she gently placed a hand on his chest, he opened his eyes and his smile broadened into a seductive grin. He tossed his cigarette aside and moved to pull her into his arms, picking up where they’d left off. “I can’t,” she said softly, putting her hands on his arms to hold him back. “I… this is – too fast. I just…” She shook her head, biting her lip when no words would come. “It’s all right,” Spike said, but he didn’t try to hide his disappointment, dropping his head and slumping against the stone. She surprised him by leaning in for another kiss, salty and wet. “I just need… time, okay?” As easily as she seemed to forget it, she did still have a boyfriend, and things with Spike were spiraling far too quickly out of control for her to process. “Whatever you want, love,” Spike murmured, running a hand through her hair. “If it helps, I – I ended it with Susan.” “Oh.” So, she was the only cheater in the cemetery tonight. Not actually all that helpful, as it happened. “Listen, I should go… I need to – to sort things out. We’ll talk about this,” she promised, giving him one last brief kiss. “Soon.”

Chapter #13 - O Come, All Ye Faithful

Chapter 13: O Come, All Ye Faithful The next day, Buffy glanced at herself in the mirror as she was getting out of the shower, and something caught her eye. Wrapping the towel around her body, she stepped closer to the glass, running the tips of her fingers over the purple bruise where Spike had gotten a little overzealous with his affections. Vampires. Always gotta go for the throat. She felt a tremor of desire flooding through her at the thought, but she quickly shoved it down, grabbing a second towel to dry her hair. If she kept on down that road, she was going to need another shower. Instead of giving in to her naughty thoughts, Buffy headed back to her room to get dressed, picking out a black turtleneck to cover up the marks. Running mousse through her hair with her fingers and leaving it to dry naturally, Buffy bounded down the stairs. She was about to call out to Dawn when she realized her sister had already left for school. She must have slept later than she thought – but then, she’d been up most of the night, tossing and turning, unable to shut off her brain. She hated the position she was in, even though she knew it was her own doing. She’d wanted to pretend she was a normal girl, when all along it was a vampire whose touch set her on fire, whose eyes could look at her and see her soul, whose love for her eclipsed all else. And now she was caught between that vampire and her very human boyfriend, whom she couldn’t bear to hurt. He’d been nothing but good to her, tried so hard to be what she needed – hell, he’d even gotten Dawn to like him – and in return, she’d cheated on him. Eager for a distraction from her predicament, Buffy made her way across town to Willow and Tara’s apartment, to check on her ailing best friend. “How’re you feeling, Will?” Buffy asked, although the question was more of a courtesy. Emma had told her the day before that Willow was in immense pain, suffering from a fever and frequent vomiting, as well as what seemed to be damage to her internal organs, but the young witch was far too stoic to admit it. A brave little toaster, Xander called her. “Better,” Willow replied, forcing a smile. “Well, that’s good, ’cause you look like death on a Triscuit.” She watched Willow’s smile become genuine, bringing some semblance of life to her ashen face. “Okay, points for imagery.” Buffy took a seat beside the bed. “I thought I should stop by when I wasn’t trying to get information out of you.” “It’s okay,” Willow insisted. “It’s important. Did you find out anything new?” “Not yet. Giles is still working on it.” “I wish I could help.” “Don’t worry about that, Will.” Buffy reached out and grasped her hand, resting on top of the blankets. “You just concentrate on getting better, okay?” Willow nodded. Buffy glanced away, absently running her other hand over her turtleneck, in the place where Spike had left his mark. “Buffy – are you okay?” Willow asked, recognizing the gesture. “I’m fine, Will,” Buffy started to assure her. Then, with a sigh, she asked, “Is it that obvious?” Willow nodded again, and Buffy dropped her gaze to her lap. “It’s… it’s Spike.” “What about him?” “I… We kissed.” “Buffy,” Willow said, with an expression and a tone that indicated she’d been expecting this for a long time. “Are we having lusty feelings towards a certain blond vampire?” “Lusty wrong feelings,” Buffy corrected. “It’s not wrong, Buffy.” Willow pushed herself up so she was sitting upright in bed. “It’s okay to have feelings… You’re not still hung up on the vampire thing, are you? I mean, he’s not Angel –” “No, I know that,” Buffy said, tracing the pattern on the bedspread with her finger. “It’s just... I’m with someone else, and here I am turning into lust-o girl every time I’m with Spike.” “Look, it’s understandable. You’ve gone through a lot together, and he does love you. Also, he’s kind of a hottie.” When Buffy looked at her in surprise, she said, “What? I’m gay, not blind.” Buffy let out a slight chuckle at that, and then Willow met her gaze and grew serious. “Buffy, just be honest with yourself. What do you want?” She paused. “And if it’s not Jacob, then you have to tell him.” “But it’s so close to Christmas…” “What, you think it’ll be easier on Boxing Day?” Buffy averted her eyes, knowing that Willow was right. “I just feel awful dumping somebody right before Christmas.” “If you don’t, someone’s gonna get hurt. Maybe all of you. Just decide whose heart you’re gonna break and get it over with, okay?” Buffy gave her a half-smile. “Look at you, hundred and two fever, and you’re still dishing out the best friend advice.” With an effort, Willow lifted her hand to shove Buffy lightly. “So, come on. Don’t hold out on me now. How were the smoochies?” Buffy adopted a demure expression as she tried to suppress her grin. Shyly, she pulled down her turtleneck to reveal the bruise. “He, um, got a little overexcited.” Willow’s eyes widened. “That’s what we professionals call a hickey.” Buffy let her collar fall back into place as her smile faded into that faraway look Willow remembered from their high school girl talks about Angel. “When he kisses me, Will… it’s like the entire world disappears.” With her own wistful expression, Willow glanced toward the door, where Tara had gone out to the living room in order to give them some privacy. “I know.” ***** As Buffy left the apartment, she pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed Jacob’s number. “It’s me,” she said when he answered. “Can you come over later?” “Sure,” he replied. “I’m not busy now if you want to…” “I can’t. I – I’m Magic Box-bound right now. Tonight, okay?” He agreed, and Buffy felt a sinking feeling as she snapped her phone shut. Stop it. You’re doing the right thing. ***** It was after midnight by the time Buffy got back to the house. She hadn’t intended to be out so late. She’d left the Magic Box at a reasonable hour, planning to go straight home without even patrolling. But, of course, a fungus demon had to attract her attention on the way home, and she couldn’t just let it go. As she gave chase, she swore to herself that she wasn’t stalling. She spent two hours tracking it through the sewers, and a third trying to kill it when she finally caught up. Once the demon was dead, Buffy was struck with paranoia – what if this was another set-up by the warlock? What if he wanted her to kill the demon for something? Unwilling to take any chances, she’d broken into the closest cemetery’s maintenance shed to steal the groundskeeper’s shovel, then hacked the demon into pieces and buried them scattered throughout the graveyard – all by herself, of course, because while vampire strength would’ve been helpful with the chopping and the digging and the heavy lifting, alone time with Spike was pretty much to be avoided at all costs for the time being. By the time she stumbled in the front door, she was bone tired, sweaty, and streaked with dirt, demon guts, and sewer sludge, and all she wanted to do was wash off the gunk and fall into bed. “Jacob,” she said, trying to keep the weariness out of her voice as she caught sight of him sitting on the couch, watching TV with the volume turned way down so as not to wake Dawn. “You’re still here.” “You asked me to be,” he replied with a shrug. Buffy closed her eyes briefly, rubbing her forehead. “I did. I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to be so late. I got side-tracked by a fungus demon.” “It’s okay.” He rose from the sofa and ran his hands up and down her arms. “Was there something in particular you wanted, or…?” She looked up at his earnest face, and the weight of her emotions and her exhaustion just made her want to burst into tears. I can’t deal with this right now. She shook her head. “We can talk in the morning. I just wanna get a shower and go to bed.” “Okay,” he agreed, his hand on the small of her back as he followed her up the stairs. She’d have preferred to sleep alone, but she didn’t have the heart to ask him to leave after he had waited up for her for hours. In her bedroom, Buffy rifled through her pajama drawer, looking for something that said, “I don’t want to have sex tonight” without being too obvious, but naturally, the only clean sleepwear she could find were slinky negligees or heavy flannel pajamas that made it look like she’d taken a vow of chastity. Settling on the least frilly of her babydoll nightgowns, she trudged into the bathroom for her shower. As she let the hot spray wash away the grime and fatigue, she closed her eyes and imagined unnaturally strong hands massaging the tension out of her shoulders. She felt him work his way down her back, teasing the aches out of every muscle as he pressed soft kisses along her throat. She rolled her head until her neck popped, and she let out a moan, barely audible above the rushing water. As she imagined his fingers sliding over her hips and down her belly to the nestle of curls at her sex, she leaned back against the cool tile and propped one foot up on the edge of the bathtub. Picturing his blond head bobbing between her thighs as he laved her with his tongue, nibbling and sucking her clit like he’d done to other parts of her the night before, she brought herself to a trembling climax, slumping against the wall with a whimpering sigh. Suddenly, realizing what she’d just done, she quickly shut off the shower and snatched a towel off the rack to dry herself off. Clad in her nightgown, she crept back into her bedroom, taking care not to disturb her sister. Jacob’s arms snaked around her as soon as she slipped under the covers, his naked erection pressing against her thigh. “I’m really tired,” she murmured, hoping he’d get the message. He did, kissing her on the forehead before relaxing his embrace and settling in to go to sleep. Buffy rolled over, putting her back to him and feeling only half guilty – after all, she was really tired – as she drifted off to sleep. ***** Buffy awoke with a start, and a bleary glance at the clock told her it was almost four a.m. Straining to listen for anything out of the ordinary that might have been the cause of her waking, she thought she heard movements from downstairs, but it could simply have been the wind, or creaky pipes, or what her mother used to call “the house settling.” Then, the handle on the bedroom door began to turn, and Buffy shot up in bed, startling Jacob awake. The door swung open, revealing a frightened, pajama-clad Dawn. “Buffy?” she whispered. “Something’s in the house.” “I hear it.” Buffy slipped out of bed and pulled her bathrobe on over her nightgown. Opening the weapons chest at the foot of the bed, she instructed Dawn, “You stay here while I check it out, okay? And don’t open the door until I get back.” Jacob sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” “There’s a demon in the house. I’m gonna take care of it. Dawn’s gonna stay with you.” As Buffy shut the door behind her, Dawn gave Jacob a dubious look. “Are you naked?” Sheepishly, Jacob reached out to grab his boxers and slid them on underneath the covers. ***** Buffy crept down the stairs, careful to avoid the squeaky boards, both hands choked up on the axe in striking position. At the bottom of the steps, she hesitated, then opted to circle through the dining room first. As she stepped around the corner, a blow came out of the darkness, knocking her backwards. She stumbled, swinging the axe blindly, shattering the china plates hanging on the wall. The figure, cloaked in shadows, came at her again, and she quickly scrambled backwards into the foyer, where the open living room curtains let in some light from the street. The demon pursued, and she could see that he was swathed in black robes, a large hood concealing his face. He carried a broadsword, and she parried his thrusts with the axe handle, retreating until her calves bumped the coffee table. The demon attempted to stab her, but Buffy jumped up onto the coffee table and did a back bend to avoid the point of the sword. “Please don’t collapse,” she pleaded softly with the furniture as she launched into a backwards cartwheel, delivering a double kick to the demon’s face before landing on the other side of the table. In response, the demon picked up the coffee table and threw it across the room, where it splintered against the wall. “Thanks,” Buffy muttered sarcastically, hefting the axe to her shoulder and swinging it in a broad arc. She managed to make contact with the demon’s sword arm, but it dropped the weapon and came at her again with a sweeping kick that sent her flying into the Christmas tree. Ornaments shattered on impact, pieces of glass and plastic digging into her back, but the tree remained standing. Buffy said a silent thank you to Spike for being crazy enough to tie the damn thing to the wall. She scrambled out of the mild wreckage, cutting her feet on the broken ornaments, and swung the axe again with a grunt, this time embedding it in the demon's chest. “You messed up my Christmas tree!” she pouted, as the demon collapsed with a groan. Then, she heard a crash from upstairs, followed by a thud and Dawn screaming, and she abandoned the corpse, flying up the steps. When she burst into the bedroom, she found Dawn huddled on the bed, clutching Jacob and crying. The window was broken and glass was scattered on the floor. “It cut off my hair!” Dawn sobbed. Buffy rushed to cradle her in her arms, exchanging a worried look with Jacob over her sister’s head. “What happened?” Jacob shook his head. “Came in the window. Threw me across the room and went right for Dawn. It – it cut off a lock of her hair and then went back out the window.” “Black robes?” Buffy asked. Jacob nodded. “Yeah, killed his buddy downstairs.” “Buffy,” Dawn asked tearfully, “why would it cut off my hair?” “Shh, it’s okay,” Buffy soothed her, even as a cold fist of fear tightened in her gut.

Chapter #14 - Carol of the Bells

Chapter 14: Carol of the Bells “Maybe it’s Death.” Buffy stared at Dawn. “Huh?” “You know, like that movie, Final Destination? Death is coming after us, taking us out one by one. That demon guy did have kind of a Grim Reaper thing going on, with the black hooded robe and all. Except with scissors instead of a scythe.” Exasperated, Buffy collapsed back into the sofa cushions. “You’re never allowed to watch another movie. Ever.” Giles stood up from where he’d been crouched next to the dead demon in the living room. “Well, leaving aside the fact that no one has died yet, perhaps Dawn has a point.” Buffy raised her eyebrows, taking a dubious sideways glance at her sister. “Really?” “This warlock seems to be attacking us systematically,” Giles pointed out. “Willow’s illness has incapacitated her, that demon was obviously intended to take out Spike, and now this hair-snatching, which could be used for any number of spells to harm Dawn.” “Why Dawn? Willow and Spike, yeah. Diminish my resources. But Dawn?” “Right.” Dawn rolled her eyes. “’Cause I’m not good for anything.” “I didn’t mean that.” “Well, it did come in your bedroom window, Buffy,” Giles reasoned. “Perhaps the spell was meant for you.” Buffy shook her head. “Jacob said it went right for Dawn. Like it knew what it wanted.” “It did,” Dawn confirmed. “Ah, where is Jacob?” Giles asked, glancing around as though he expected the young man to appear from the other room. “I sent him home. I figured he was safer if he wasn’t around me.” She gestured limply toward the corpse. “Do you know what it is?” “Yes.” Giles stifled a yawn. “I believe it’s a Veloxin demon. They’re a very intelligent species, adept at magic. I don’t doubt they’re in service to the warlock. They’d make quite suitable minions for his purposes.” “Like stealing my sister’s hair?” Buffy asked in a sour voice. “So they can – what? Kill her? Make her sick like Willow?” “I don’t know, Buffy,” Giles snapped. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I just – I feel like we’re being hunted. Why can’t this guy just show himself?” “I don’t know,” he repeated more gently. “I wish there was something more I could tell you.” Buffy nodded. “I’m sorry I woke you up at four o’clock in the morning.” “Do you want me to stay?” “No – no, we’ll be fine.” She tried her best to look alert. “I’ll just stay up… in case.” Giles’ expression softened, and he gathered her into a comforting embrace. “We’ll get through this, Buffy. We always do.” She buried her face in his chest, taking solace in his fatherly support for a moment before pulling away. “I should get Dawn to bed.” ***** Buffy awoke again in her own bed, cradled against a cool, solid chest. She opened her eyes slowly to find Spike gazing down at her. “Am I dreaming?” she asked foggily. “Or was the other thing the dream?” Spike smiled. “Both real, pet. Watcher stopped by, said you’d had a fright. Thought you could do with some company.” “I was gonna stay awake.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position, without leaving the tight circle of Spike’s arms. “I was supposed to stay awake in case anything else tried to…” “Yeah. Rupert thought you might not make it ’til morning. ’S why he asked me to keep watch.” Buffy’s face crinkled into an expression of puzzled appreciation. “I didn’t think he trusted you.” “Didn’t have much of a choice, did he? If another beastie did attack…” “Yeah.” She snuggled into his chest. “Thank you.” “Didn’t do anything but watch you sleep,” he protested. “Still. Thanks.” It was surprising, how much her gratitude seemed alien to him, the lack of appreciation to which he'd grown accustomed over the years still superseding this newer, friendlier Buffy. Or maybe it was because he felt he ought to be thanking her, for allowing him the privilege of holding her while she slept. “Should be waking Niblet up for school soon,” he said, changing the subject. “She’s not going to school.” Buffy pulled away and sat up so that she could look at him. “I’m not taking any chances. It’s the last day before winter break anyway; it won’t matter if she misses. Let her sleep.” Spike nodded. “I, on the other hand, am gonna take my…” She glanced at the clock and groaned. “…five hours of sleep and run with it.” With an incredible amount of willpower, she dragged herself out of Spike’s arms and got out of bed. She was suddenly self-conscious as she realized she was still wearing the negligee and bathrobe, and pulled the robe tighter around her. It finally occurred to her to ask, “How did I get here? The last thing I remember was being staked out on the couch…” “An’ that’s where I found you, sound asleep,” Spike teased her. “Carried you up here, figured it’d be more comfortable.” “Oh, my God,” Buffy groaned, catching sight of herself in the mirror. “Why didn’t you tell me I looked like Methuselah?” “Huh?” “The lady with the snakes for hair?” “Medusa.” “Who’s the other one?” Spike screwed up his face in thought. “Biblical?” “Whatever. Remind me never to go to sleep with wet hair.” Looking at her reflection, she desperately tried to smooth down the frizzy mess. “Think you look gorgeous, pet.” “Okay, now I know you’re lying,” she said, turning around to give him a look. “Or maybe you’re delirious because you’re sleep-deprived. You can crash here if you want.” She gestured toward the bed, where he was already sprawled anyway. “’Preciate it.” “Just… not too long, okay?” she said fretfully. “Not that you’re not welcome, I just… really need you at the Magic Box.” Spike nodded, understanding the reason for her worry. Rising to his knees, he shuffled over to the edge of the bed so that he could pull her into his arms and place a gentle kiss on her lips. “Just wake me up when you and the Bit are ready to go.” Releasing her, he collapsed into the Buffy-scented sheets, burying his nose in the pillow and inhaling deeply. He could smell the boy, too, of course, but thankfully there was no stench of sex, even though the sheets were at least a few days old. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he heard her say softly, “I’m glad you’re here.” ***** Three hours later, they were at the Magic Box. Giles and Spike, despite their lack of sleep, were back in their now-familiar positions at the research table, poring over the last pieces of information yet to be translated. Xander had gone out for a coffee run, and Anya tried to distract Dawn from her worry by making her inventory the shop’s “organic merchandise.” “What does that mean?” Dawn asked with suspicion. “Organic,” Anya repeated. “Didn’t they teach you biology in school? Anything that comes from plants or animals.” Dawn gave her a disgusted expression. “You mean…?” “Yes. Eye of toad, eye of newt, chicken feet – you get the idea. Oh, and don’t forget all the fungi.” While the others were preoccupied with their work, Buffy pulled Emma aside, ducking into the dark corner behind the steps. “I need you to protect Dawn,” she told the witch in a low, intense voice. “Do a spell, whatever you need to –” “I can’t, Buffy.” “You have to.” “There’s no way to stop – once he has a piece of her, he can do anything he wants through thaumaturgy,” Emma explained again, although they’d already been over this in discussing Willow’s condition. “The best I can do is try to lessen the pain, as I’ve done for Willow. But there’s no guarantee –” “Then, I need you to do something else,” Buffy cut in, a new idea occurring to her. “The thing is, Dawn’s not just my sister. She’s –” “The Key. Rupert told me.” “Right, so, when the monks made her, they made her out of me. She’s – she’s a part of me. We’re connected. So, this should be – I mean, could you…” She glanced out at her friends, and then lowered her voice even more. “I want a spell to – to link us, so whatever they try to do to Dawn happens to me instead.” Emma shook her head. “It’s not possible. And even if it were, it could kill you. A thaumaturgic spell could rip your heart right out of your chest from miles away, if the mage is strong enough.” “Then, it could kill Dawn like that, too,” Buffy insisted. “I can’t let that happen.” “Buffy, do you understand –” “Yes! I understand, okay? I’ve already died for my sister once. What makes you think I won’t do it again?” Emma’s expression softened at Buffy’s determination. “Just – just do the spell, or whatever you have to,” Buffy said quietly. “Don’t you dare.” Buffy spun around at the low, growly voice behind her. “Spike –” “Not letting you die again, Buffy.” “There’s a chance it was meant for me anyway.” “Doesn’t matter.” “But Dawn –” “No,” Spike said firmly. “I’m not losing either of you. Stop wasting this woman’s time, so she can get back to figuring out how to defeat this wanker.” Cowed, Buffy turned back to Emma. “I’m sorry.” Emma nodded, placing a comforting hand on Buffy’s arm before sitting back down at the research table. Buffy looked up at Spike, and he held her gaze for a long moment, his face reflecting the fear and betrayal he felt at hearing her willingness to die again. How could you leave me again? his eyes asked her. Now, when we’re so close… Closing her eyes, Buffy pulled him into a silent hug before leading him back to the others. ***** “Hey, guys,” Tara said, coming into the Magic Box. Emma had gone to relieve her, taking a turn staying with Willow so that Tara could get out of the apartment for a bit. “How’s it going?” “Not good,” Buffy replied, as she proceeded to fill the blonde witch in on the events of the night before. “Oh, Dawnie,” Tara said sympathetically, reaching over to hug the girl. Giles leaned back in his chair with a sigh, giving the text in front of him a reproachful glare. “Having trouble, Rupert?” Spike asked. “This book doesn’t make any bloody sense!” “Want me to have a go?” Giles took off his glasses and gestured with them toward the book, giving Spike the go-ahead as he squeezed the bridge of his nose with his other hand. Spike leaned over and pulled the text in front of him, studying it for a moment before he concluded, “It’s in Grfathian. Demon language,” he explained, when Giles gave him a puzzled expression. “Looks like Russian, but it’s not. It’s in a sort of code, see? You’ve got to rearrange the sentences based on these symbols here.” Picking up a pencil, he began circling and underlining, drawing arrows all over the page as he reconstructed the translation. “How do you know this?” Spike hesitated. “When Dru was sick, one of the first cures I tried was in this godforsaken language. Took me weeks to figure out the code, an’ it turned out to be bloody useless to Dru anyway.” He expected the Watcher to make some disparaging remark about either his wicked past or his former lover, but all he said was, “Well, at least it’s of some good now.” Once Spike had worked out the translation, he handed it to Giles with a grim expression. Giles donned his spectacles again and peered at the transcribed text. “Oh, dear.” “What?” Buffy demanded, instantly turning her attention to the research table. “What did you find?” “Well,” Giles said slowly, “the good news is, we’ve figured out what this warlock is trying to do.” “And the bad news?” Xander prompted “We’ve figured out what this warlock is trying to do,” Spike deadpanned. Buffy glanced worriedly at Spike, then her Watcher. “What is it, Giles?” “It seems this series of rituals involves an assumption of power, of sorts.” “What, like magic?” Buffy asked. “How much power are we talking here?” “Ah, well, enough to destroy the world, I’d say.” Her eyes widened. “Giles, spill.” He nodded. “In Egyptian mythology, Osiris was believed to have the power to grant eternal life. Through rites of imitative magic, he could bestow divinity upon the pharaohs.” “He’d make them gods,” Spike summarized. “Yes.” “But that’s just mythology… right?” Xander asked. “I mean the pharaohs weren’t actually gods.” “Well, no,” Giles admitted. “But the Egyptians only had one piece of the puzzle. What we’re looking at is an amalgamation of rituals from various cultures, spanning centuries. Why, among us, we’ve translated from at least eight languages.” Buffy folded her arms across her chest. “So, this guy’s big with the multicultural. What’s the point?” “The point is, Buffy, that this assumption of power, while borrowed by other cultures, is rooted in demon mythology that is much, much older, and includes a thread of what Emma believes to be authentic black magic. Now, there is a brotherhood, centuries old, which firmly believed that achieving deity status was possible through black magic and ancient rituals, and they were dedicated to tracking down all the pieces that had been dispersed throughout history. I believe my friend Robert was a member of this brotherhood. That’s why he was compiling all this research. And I think he was successful – and that is why he was killed.” “In other words, this is real?” Buffy said, her cockiness draining away. “This isn’t some conspiracy theory. This warlock could actually become a god.” “Yes.” Everyone was silent for a moment, digesting that, and then Anya said, “Well, Giles, thank you for, again, scaring the hell out of us.” “So, what happens when he becomes a god?” Xander asked, quickly backpedaling when Buffy glared at him. “Which he won’t, of course, because that would mean the demise of the Buffster… but just gimme a ‘what if.’” “Well, most likely he’ll take over the world and destroy us all.” Spike shrugged. “But that’s just a guess.” “We still don’t know how to find him,” Buffy pointed out. “Chances are, he’ll find you, Buffy,” Giles said. “Though I don’t imagine that’s comforting.” Buffy looked at Spike, raising her eyebrows as if to say, “See?” “There may be something to look for.” Flipping through another large tome, Giles showed Buffy a picture of a symbol, an eye drawn in the center of a pentagram. “This is the symbol of the brotherhood. Find this anywhere in Sunnydale, and I’m sure you’ll find your warlock.” Spike peered at the symbol over Buffy’s shoulder. “Well, ’s a start, but it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack.” “Maybe we could try some sort of locator spell?” Tara suggested. “I don’t know if it would work on a – a symbol, but it’s worth a shot.” “Yes, all right,” Giles agreed. “Anya?” “What?” He gestured to the shelves. “Could you get Tara the necessary ingredients?” “Is she going to pay for them?” When no one answered her, she said, “Right. No. Emergency. Free stuff. Got it.” She collected the ingredients, and Tara set up the spell. The others watched anxiously as she went through the candle lighting and the chanting and the powder sprinkling. Suddenly, there was a puff of black smoke, and Tara began coughing, waving her hands around to disperse the smoke. “That didn’t look good,” Dawn said. “No.” Tara coughed a bit more and said, “I guess it doesn’t work that way.” “So, what do we do now?” Xander asked. Before anyone could answer him, the doorbell jingled and Jacob stepped into the shop. “Hi,” he said, going immediately to Buffy. “Uh, I stopped by the house and no one was there, so I figured…” “Oh, my God,” she said, feeling her stomach drop to the floor. “Jacob! I’m a terrible person.” Jacob smiled. “I find that hard to believe.” “No, really. I completely forgot about dinner!” She’d also forgotten that she was supposed to break up with him before that, but with Dawn in danger and now this new troubling information, it had completely slipped her mind. “I – it’s just, we…” “What’s going on?” Jacob asked, noticing everyone else. “You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “We figured out what that warlock is trying to do,” Buffy explained. “Jacob, I’m so sorry, but I can’t go –” “Sure you can,” Xander jumped in. “We’re just doing research, right? Can’t fight 'til we know who we’re fighting. If we need you to hit something, we’ll call ya.” “But Dawn…” she protested, scrambling for a reason to stay. “You heard Emma,” Dawn said with a shrug, missing her sister’s cues. “You can’t do anything to protect me anyway.” Desperately, Buffy looked to Giles, hoping that he out of all of them would see the need for her to stay, but he just nodded, giving her permission to go. Great. Now he’s okay with choosing dating over slaying. What happened to all that sacred duty bullcrap from when I was sixteen and wanted to date? She wanted to refuse, to insist that she was needed here, but with everyone encouraging her, she couldn’t back out without a scene – and she definitely was not about to dump Jacob in front of everyone she knew. “I’m not even dressed for dinner,” she tried weakly, glancing down at her outfit, wishing she hadn’t decided to wear a skirt today. If she’d just worn jeans, she might’ve had a case. “You look fine,” Jacob assured her. Out of arguments, she looked helplessly at Spike, as though to tell him she’d tried. He just shrugged, his face closed off and unreadable, and she couldn’t tell if he was okay with it or not. “Uh, okay, then,” Buffy said. “I guess I’ll – I’ll go.” She grabbed her purse off the table and double-checked to make sure her cell phone was turned on. “Call me the minute you find something.” ***** Buffy gazed dubiously at the street sign as Jacob made the turn onto his father’s street. “Crawford Street, huh?” “Yeah… why?” “Nothing. I just… knew somebody who used to live here,” she said, peering out the window as they drove past Angel’s abandoned mansion. Jacob pulled into a driveway several houses down, in front of what appeared to be a much more lived-in estate. “Wow. Big house.” “My dad’s a CEO,” Jacob explained. “That’s not – I mean, you knew my family had money.” “I know. It’s just… wow.” Curbing her awe, Buffy stepped out of the car and followed Jacob to the front door. He didn’t bother to knock, pulling out a key to unlock the door. “Dad?” he called as they stepped into the foyer. Buffy expected a butler to greet them or something, but instead a well-dressed man with a vague resemblance to Jacob came out of one of the many rooms branching off the front hallway. “Jacob!” The man greeted Jacob with a hug, and then turned to Buffy with a broad smile. “And this must be the lovely Miss Summers.” He took her hand in both of his, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “Yes,” she replied awkwardly, itching to pull her hand away but not wanting to be rude. “Hi. I – I’m Buffy.” “Come in! Come in – don’t stand here in the doorway. Can I get you a glass of wine, my dear?” “Sure,” Buffy readily agreed. Something told her alcohol was going to be absolutely necessary if she wanted to get through this evening. “Thank you.” ***** “…and I’d hoped Jacob would come to work for me someday, but he seems to be taking after his mother, free spirit that she is. God only knows what you do with a history major these days.” Buffy was working her way through her second glass of wine, listening to Jacob’s father discuss his plans for his son, after having to tactfully explain why she herself had dropped out of college. “I’m sure there’s… lots of things,” she said, mentally chiding herself for being so lame. “What does your company do, Mr. Kessler?” “Please, call me David.” Buffy almost choked on her wine at the name. Jacob’s father was droning on about stocks and financing and conglomerates, but she’d stopped paying attention, furtively scanning the room for any clues that this man was the warlock who was so intent on making her a ritual sacrifice. Her gaze alighted on a stone artifact sitting on the mantle above the elegant marble fireplace. Engraved in the stone was the symbol of the brotherhood. Buffy hastily put the wine glass down on the coffee table. “I’m sorry. Would you excuse me? I have to, uh –” She leaned over close to Jacob. “Where’s the bathroom?” “Right down the hall,” he replied. “Go out this door and make a left. Third door on the right.” “Thanks.” She snatched her purse up and nearly ran out of the room. Out in the hallway, she hesitated, suddenly feeling shaky on her feet. Shit. Putting one hand against the wall to steady herself, she wondered whether she should try to fight him now or make a run for it and come back with the gang. What are the chances he’s gonna let me leave? God, this was a set-up from the start! How could I be so stupid? On the plus side, though, she felt a lot less guilty about cheating on Jacob. Was he in on it? she wondered, heading down the hall, scoping out the house. Was he playing me all along? She ducked into the first room she could find that was unlocked, and found herself in David’s study. The room was all dark mahogany, with another large fireplace and walls filled with books. As she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Dawn’s cell number, she began rifling around for a weapon, cursing herself. Why didn’t I think to bring a weapon? Oh, right. Normal people don’t bring weapons to Christmas dinner. She considered the fire poker, but it was too obvious – where would she hide it? “Come on, pick up,” she muttered under her breath. Dawn’s voice mail came on, and she jabbed at the buttons to end the call. Grabbing a letter opener from David’s desk and slipping it up her sleeve, she tried Xander’s cell next. He picked up on the second ring. “Buffy? What’s going on?” “I found the symbol!” she said in a fierce whisper. “Hey, that’s great, Buff. Where is it?” It took him a moment, and then he realized, “Wait a minute, aren’t you at Jacob’s dad’s… uh-oh.” “Yeah.” “Oh, shit.” She heard a flurry of activity on the other end of the line as she pulled open one of the desk drawers. A small handgun lay on top of a pile of papers. “Buffy, are you there?” Giles’ voice now. “I’m here.” She hesitated a moment before sticking the gun in her boot, shaking her head to clear the gathering fog. “I think I – I think I’ve been drugged. Giles, you have to –” “You’re not supposed to be in here,” Mr. Kessler’s voice came from the doorway. His tone was darker now and much more menacing than it had been while making small talk. “I’m sorry,” Buffy said, trying to surreptitiously hang up the phone and slip it back into her purse before he noticed she’d been making a call. “I must have taken a wrong turn on the way to the bathroo… the bath…” Overcome with dizziness, the phone slipped out of her hand as she collapsed to the floor.

Chapter #15 - God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen

Chapter 15: God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen “Buffy? Buffy!” Giles pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. “The line went dead.” “We’ve gotta help her!” Dawn cried, and Tara immediately put a comforting arm around her. “We don’t know where they went,” Anya pointed out. Spike strode toward the door. “I’ll find her.” “How?” Xander asked. “Got a nose, don’t I? She only left an hour or so ago. I can still track her.” Xander made a face. “Gross, but useful.” “Yes, or you could simply look up David Kessler in the phone book.” Giles held up the copy they kept behind the register, causing Spike and Xander to exchange sheepish looks. “Thirty-six Crawford Street.” Spike nodded, turning again toward the door. “I’m going with you,” Xander insisted, following on his heels. “No.” Spike stopped him by placing a hand on his chest. “’S too dangerous. Slayer wouldn’t want you there. ’Sides, not gonna need a lot of muscle in this fight. If this guy goes down, it’s gonna be by magic.” He nodded to Tara. “I’m taking the witch. That’s all.” “We can take my car,” Tara replied, in tacit agreement. As the two of them disappeared out the door, Xander said, “Giles, we can’t just sit here! We have to do something!” “I agree. Grab some weapons.” Giles scanned the remnants of the locator spell, and then snatched up a crystal that Tara had used, handing it to Anya. “Take this to Willow’s. Tell Emma to focus on Tara’s magical signature and channel as much power as she can spare.” He glanced at Dawn. “Both of you, go – and stay there.” ***** Buffy woke up as she was being carried out of the study by two of the hooded demons. She struggled against their grasp, but found she had no strength to resist them. Whatever drug had been in her drink had also drained her slayer powers. “Let me go!” she cried, continuing to thrash even though it was doing nothing more than tiring her out. The ruckus alerted Jacob, who came flying out of the living room, and to her surprise, he looked astonished at the scene in front of him. “Dad, what the hell are you doing?” “My associates are taking Miss Summers upstairs, Jacob,” David replied calmly, as though Buffy were simply being escorted on a tour of the house. “I want to thank you for delivering her to me.” Jacob’s eyes widened, and he desperately tried to meet Buffy’s gaze. “No! Buffy, I swear I didn’t know –” He cut off abruptly, spinning around and grabbing his father by the arm. “It was you, wasn’t it? The bad guy Buffy’s been trying to find. It was you all along!” David smiled. “You can be terribly dim sometimes, boy.” “You can’t do this! Dad, she’s my girlfriend!” Boldly, he stood in front of his father, blocking the path to the stairs. “Mmm, soon to be ex-girlfriend, I’d say,” David said with false sympathy. “If her little trysts with the vampire are any indication.” He stepped aside so that Jacob could see Buffy’s horrified expression at having the truth revealed so callously. “Spike? Buffy… is that true?” Buffy stopped struggling against the demons, her lower lip quivering as she brought her gaze up to meet Jacob’s. “I’m sorry.” “Still want to protect her?” David asked. “Go against my wishes for a little slut?” Jacob hesitated, his eyes flickering between Buffy and his father. “Yes.” He shoved his father as hard as he could, causing the older man to stumble backwards, but he recovered to backhand Jacob across the face, flinging him into the wall. Jacob slumped to the ground, still conscious but too dazed to get up. “That’s a shame,” David said, gesturing for the demons to take Buffy upstairs, leaving his son lying in the hall. Once on the second floor, the demons followed David down the hall and into the second-floor study, where Buffy was then chained to the wall at the point of a pentagram painted on the floor. Unlike the downstairs office, which was suited to a businessman of Mr. Kessler’s stature, this room was full of magical paraphernalia, the walls adorned with medieval weaponry and ancient occult symbols. Candles, crystals, herbs, and various other artifacts similar to ones she’d seen at the Magic Box lay scattered about, and she could see the remnants of other completed rituals. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” Buffy asked, with more confidence than she felt as she tugged on the chains clamped to her wrists. There was enough give for her to take a few steps, but it wasn’t far enough to reach a weapon or anything of use, and the warlock was careful to stay well out of range. “You think I’m gonna let you dismember me so you can become some kind of god? Think again, jackass.” “I don’t believe you’re in any position to tell me what to think,” David pointed out, as the two Veloxin demons lit candles and placed them along the edge of the circle surrounding the pentagram. “Though I do admire your gumption. I didn’t realize Slayers were so… spunky.” “You’ve been manipulating me,” Buffy said coldly. “And I really don’t like that.” He took out what looked like a bone saw and ran his hand down the blade, pricking the tip of his finger with the point. “And yet you made it so easy. You can go,” he said, turning his attention to the demons, who had finished their task. They nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them. Buffy fumed, redoubling her efforts with the chains. “You won’t get away with it. Jacob’s probably downstairs calling the police right now.” “No. He’s not.” David paused in the center of the pentagram, where he was letting his blood drip onto the floor, and glanced up at Buffy. “If he tries, my guards have orders to slit his throat.” She gaped at him. “You’d kill your own son?” “I think we’ve established that I’m not exactly squeamish, don’t you? I am about to dismember you.” “The hell you are.” David dropped the bone saw to the floor with a clatter, stalking over to one of the tables of magic supplies that lined the walls and picking up a sachet or talisman of some kind. He came back over to Buffy, but was forced step backward when he got within kicking range of her black stiletto-heel boots. “Now, you listen here. I like a girl who’s spirited, but I will not let you ruin this for me.” He held up the trinket, which Buffy realized was a lock of brown hair wound with some kind of herb. “I’ve got your sister’s hair. You will do as I say, or I’ll kill her right now. Do you understand?” Buffy just stared at him defiantly, but an icy knot of fear was coiling in her stomach, and she stopped struggling against the chains. ***** “This is it.” Tara screeched the car to a halt in front of the Kessler mansion, and she and Spike ran for the front porch. Spike kicked in the door and tried to go in, but ran full speed into the barrier and bounced back. “Bloody hell!” he roared, kicking and pounding on the invisible wall. “Oh, no,” Tara said, realizing the problem. “Same rules as always, love.” Spike slammed his fist against the empty space dejectedly. “Guess you’re on your own.” Just then, Jacob appeared in the hallway, looking dazed and holding his head. Before he even had a chance to react to the newcomers on his doorstep, Tara ran inside, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. “Invite him in!” Jacob stared at the vampire, his father’s words echoing as he pictured Buffy’s guilty expression. Then, after a moment, he relented. “Come in, Spike.” Spike plowed through the doorway, and Tara managed to get out of the way in time for him to haul off and punch Jacob hard enough to send him flying into a four foot tall ceramic urn. The urn shattered, and Jacob bounced off the wall behind it, collapsing on top of the broken pieces. He was unconscious but not dead, which Spike felt he could remedy later if necessary. First priority was Buffy. “She’s through here,” Spike said, leading the way down the hall, following his nose. “And somebody’s bleeding.” They ran into the living room, and Spike could tell that Buffy had been there, but the only trace of her was an almost empty wine glass on the coffee table. Back out in the hall, he next burst into the first-floor study. He spotted Buffy’s abandoned cell phone on the floor, but again, no sign of the Slayer herself. “So… where is she?” Tara asked. Spike spun around, trying to hone in on his senses. He hurried back out of the room and to the end of the hall, then glanced up. “Above us. Gotta find the stairs.” “This place is huge.” Tara scurried to keep up with Spike as he launched down another corridor. “Maybe you shouldn’t have knocked Jacob out.” Suddenly, a robed Veloxin demon stepped into their path, and Spike dropped him with a quick punch. Another followed, which Tara hit with a burst of magical energy. Two more came out of a doorway behind them, and it took a few minutes of grappling before all four bodies were lying on the floor. Spike shook off his game face and grabbed Tara by the arm. “Come on!” They burst through a set of double doors and found themselves in the dining room, the table elegantly set for a Christmas dinner that wouldn’t be eaten. The wall opposite them was a bank of windows looking out over a landscaped backyard, cloaked in shadow. “Wrong way,” Tara observed. “I think if we’d gone straight instead of turning left, back by the Monet painting…” “Shh!” Spike held his hand up to silence her. “You hear that?” “No vampire hearing, remember?” “I think she’s chained up. Could hear ’em rattling a minute ago… but there’s nothing now.” He looked at her, hoping against hope that Buffy hadn’t stopped fighting back for the reason he feared. “Can you break them from here? Might buy some time.” “I can try.” ***** “Here’s the thing,” David said, brandishing his bone saw as he approached Buffy slowly. “I need to cut you up into little pieces, and I’d really like it if you didn’t make a big fuss. So, are you going to cooperate, or do I need to kill Dawn?” In response, Buffy kicked again, her blow falling short as he took another step back. The warlock shook his head. “That wasn’t nice.” He pulled the lock of hair out of his pocket and began to mutter under his breath in Latin. “NO!” Buffy shrieked. “No, please – okay! I won’t – I… Just don’t hurt her.” Smiling, David stepped right up to Buffy and ran a hand through her hair, sending chills of disgust down her spine as she forced herself not to jerk away. He would probably have to restrain her with magic once the actual dismemberment began – she wouldn’t be able to help the physical reaction – but for now, he preferred this, the fear, the manipulation, the forced submission to his command. As he raised the bone saw, Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the pain. Instead, she felt her manacles magically spring open, and she opened her eyes in disbelief. The warlock’s face was as startled as hers, so she ruled out a change of heart and quickly shoved him backwards before he had a chance to react. She kicked the saw out of his hands and sent it skittering across the floor. The kick was solid for a girl her size, but her reaction time was slow, and she knew she was still under the effects of the drugs. Before she could make her next move, she was grabbed from behind, and the bone saw flew off the ground and into David’s hand, the serrated blade pressed against her throat. “What did I say about cooperating?” he growled in her ear. Buffy snapped her head back, bashing her crown into his forehead. Shaking the letter opener out of her sleeve, she jammed it into his thigh as hard as she could. David let her go with a yell, and she scrambled to the other side of the room. She was seeing stars from the head-butt, but she scrabbled around, looking for a weapon, knowing that hand-to-hand combat wouldn’t hold off the mage for long without her slayer strength. She pulled a medieval battle-axe off the wall and swung it at David, feeling a shock go through her arms as the blade bounced off an invisible force field. She tried again, with the same result. As she lifted the axe for a third attempt, it was snatched out of her hands and then came flying back toward her, wielded by magic. She ducked quickly, and the axe embedded itself in the wood paneling behind her. Glancing around desperately for some other way to fight the mage, her gaze landed on a large triangular blue stone, which Giles had pointed out to her while they were researching. The Osiris stone, the one needed for the ritual. Grabbing it, Buffy heaved the stone at David as hard as she could. He dodged out of the way, and it crashed to the floor and shattered at his feet. To her surprise, it burst into flames. Since the fire was between her and the warlock, with the door in her favor, she didn’t mind so much. With the fire as a distraction, Buffy ran for the door, fleeing into the hall and then down the stairs, tripping over a step and tumbling the rest of the way down. Spike was pulling her to her feet almost before she’d hit the ground. When she realized who had grabbed her, she flung her arms around his neck in relief. He wrapped one arm around her waist, more for holding her upright than affection, as he dragged her away from the stairs. “No time for that, pet. Come on.” She wondered for a moment whether he was angry with her, or just tense because of the situation, but as they fled into the labyrinth of hallways, he couldn’t resist a teasing, “Slayer agility, huh?” “Shut up. He drugged me.” “You all right?” She shook her head. “No superpowers. Just regular old Buffy.” “What about – ?” He gestured back in the direction from which they’d come. “I slowed him down a little, but it’s not over.” They turned a corner and ran into Tara, who was currently holding off two Veloxins with magic. Spike dove right in, taking one off her hands and snapping its neck quickly. With a sudden surge of power, Tara managed to send the other flying into a wall, tearing a hole in the Monet as it crashed all the way through into the next room. “Whoa…” the witch said, looking down at the hand she’d used to release the energy, realizing that Emma was remotely feeding her power. “Hey, have you guys seen Jacob?” Buffy asked, once it was relatively calm. When Spike gave her a dark look, she explained, “He wasn’t in on this. He tried to help me.” “Unconscious in the front hall,” Spike told her, making no effort to disguise his satisfaction. “Your work?” she asked dryly. “You can spank me later.” “I think there’s more coming,” Tara interrupted. They could hear the thunder of footsteps, and Spike turned, ready to take them by surprise when they came around the corner. Tara took up a stance flanking him, and Buffy, somewhat hesitant without a weapon or her slayer powers, stayed behind. Two demons came around the bend, and Spike fought them both back at once, slipping into game face again as he rained down punches. Tara took the next two, sending them flying down the hallway with gale-force winds. While they were preoccupied, David slipped through the fighting, headed for Buffy. Catching sight of him, she tried for a punch, but he simply put up a hand and her fist met a force field instead of his face. She backed away, grabbing a vase of flowers off an end table and hurling it at the warlock, who batted it away easily. He stepped toward her, one hand outstretched, curling his fingers as though he were squeezing her throat. Suddenly, a magical force started choking her, and she was lifted up off the ground, her feet dangling a foot off the floor. “Spike, help!” she squeaked. Spike spun around and delivered a solid roundhouse kick to the warlock’s head, distracting him enough so that he lost his focus and Buffy was released. “Buffy, run!” Spike yelled, as another Veloxin jumped onto his back. He slammed the demon against the wall until it relinquished its hold, but Buffy was already gone. So was David. ***** When Giles and Xander pulled up to the Kessler mansion, they found the front door standing open and signs of a fight in the foyer. “That’s not a good sign,” Xander said. Giles said nothing, drawing his sword as he cautiously entered the house. Xander drew his own weapon and followed. “Any sign of her?” Xander whispered as they crept down the hallway, though they hadn’t come across anyone, demon or human. Giles shushed him and cocked his head toward a closed door, listening. “Let’s see what’s in here, shall we?” The door was locked, but after a few tries, the two of them managed to kick it in. Inside the room, they found four robed Veloxin demons kneeling in a circle on the floor, performing some sort of ritual. “I’m sorry,” Giles said, with a sarcastic attitude reminiscent of his Ripper days. “Are we interrupting?” He thrust his sword into the robes of the closest demon, and with that, the two of them went to work. ***** Buffy ran down the corridor, knowing that she’d never be able to lose the warlock in his own house. Hoping to escape him for at least a few minutes in order to regroup, she burst through a door and slammed it shut behind her, leaning back against it, breathing heavily. Taking in her surroundings, she realized she was in the dining room, at the back of the house. Before she had a chance to think of a plan, the door burst open behind her, flinging her farther into the room and sending her tumbling to the floor. She rolled over onto her back to find David looming in the doorway, his fingertips crackling with magic. She scrambled backward on all fours, bumping into one of the dining room chairs. David extended his hand, and Buffy was suddenly lifted up off the floor and thrown onto the table. She skidded across it, taking place settings and centerpieces with her as the tablecloth slid on the smooth wood beneath. She toppled off the opposite side, landing with the crash of breaking china. Buffy hissed as she pulled a salad fork out of her upper arm and brushed shards of glass from her clothes. Grabbing onto a chair, she pulled herself to her feet, only to find David glowering at her from the doorway. “You little bitch!” he spat, stepping toward her menacingly. The table was between them, but she knew that would give her little protection against magic. “You broke my Osiris stone.” “Guess you can’t do your ritual now, huh?” Her head snapped backwards with the force of a blow, although nothing had touched her. “I can get another one. But now I’m going to have to keep you here until I do.” Buffy smirked at her advantage. “So, that means you can’t kill me.” “Doesn’t mean I can’t make it hurt.” With that, he waved his hand again, and Buffy went sailing into the grandfather clock in the corner, smashing through the glass and slamming her head into the chimes with a loud dong before she fell to the ground. Struggling to keep from blacking out as her head vibrated with the chimes, Buffy again pulled herself up, determined not to make this easy for him, even without her slayer powers. Slowly, David made his way around the table, keeping his gaze fixed on her, waiting for her to make a move. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike appear in the doorway, but kept her expression stony so as not to give away his presence. “You want me?” she taunted, trying to keep the warlock’s attention as Spike crept up behind him. “You’re gonna have to come and get me.” Spike hit David from behind with a kick to the temple, spinning him around so that he could follow it up with a left hook. Before he could get off another punch, Spike went flying through the plate-glass windows that lined the back wall, tumbling into the backyard. He scrambled to his feet and ran back into the house, but Tara was already there, hitting David with an impressive light show that forced him to throw up a protective shield. “Three against one,” Spike pointed out. “Odds aren’t exactly in your favor.” “I can fix that.” Whether by luck or by magic, three more Veloxins appeared in the doorway, one of them knocking Tara to the ground as the other two went after Buffy. Snatching up a large piece of wood, part of the broken frame of the grandfather clock, Buffy used it to keep her attackers at bay. Tara managed to recover enough to take out the demon that had hit her, and then shot a bolt of energy at one of the ones that had gone after Buffy. Spike tried to attack David again, but the protective shield prevented him from landing any blows. The mage dropped the shield to hit Spike with magic, but he always managed to get it back up before the vampire could retaliate. Then, David pulled out the charm with Dawn’s hair and said, “Back off. Or I kill the Slayer’s sister.” Spike froze. ***** Sliding his sword out of the dead Veloxin’s chest, Xander noticed the charm in the center of the circle. As Giles finished slaughtering the last of the demons, wiping his blade on its black robe, Xander bent down and examined the charm. It was very similar to the one David had, except the hair was a very recognizable red. “Hey, Giles. Check this out.” ***** Across town, Willow suddenly sat up, gasping, her hair damp with sweat. Emma hurried to the bedside, pressing the back of her hand to the girl’s forehead. She smiled. “The fever’s broken.” ***** Spike stared at the lock of hair in the warlock’s hand, wary that the slightest movement could mean Dawn’s death. He’s bluffing, Tara’s voice echoed in his head, nearly making him jump out of his skin. He’d almost gotten used to Willow popping up in his head over the summer, but he wasn’t expecting it from Tara. She’d never been able to do it before Emma’s power boost. Bloody witches, he thought. I can hear you, you know! What d’you mean, he’s bluffing? A spell like that takes time – and effort, she explained, while still using her magic to spar with one of the demons. He can’t pull it off without dropping the shield, and you’d be able to take him out before he completed the spell. As she was distracted, the demon she’d been fighting managed to slip past her defenses, picking her up and throwing her against the wall. She hit her head and sank to the ground, unconscious. “Tara!” Spike cried. Then, he heard a gunshot, and the demon crumpled to the ground next to the witch. Spike and David both spun to see Buffy across the room, the handgun now trained on the warlock. A demon lay dead at her feet, the wooden clock frame sticking out of its chest. “I think we’re just about done here,” Buffy said coldly, her aim never wavering. “You won’t kill me,” David scoffed, maintaining his shield in the standoff. “You’re the Slayer. You can’t kill a human; it goes against everything you fight to protect.” “I think I can make an exception for an evil freakin’ lunatic.” “Go on, then,” he challenged her. “Pull the trigger. I’m your boyfriend’s father.” “Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected, with more confidence than she felt, cocking the hammer with a click. Gambling on her strict moral code to keep her from shooting, David dropped the shield to fire another bolt of energy. Buffy’s hands trembled, and she hesitated. Spike didn’t. The sound of the warlock’s neck snapping echoed in the high-ceilinged room. He fell to the floor with a thump, and then it was silent.

Chapter #16 - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Chapter 16: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas Buffy followed Dawn out of the kitchen, but hesitated in the doorway, taking in the subdued group gathered in the Summers’ living room on Christmas Eve. Willow was parked on the sofa, still weak from her prolonged mystical illness, with Tara beside her, doting on her in her mother-hen way. Giles stood by the fireplace, leaning against the mantle and gazing into the dancing flames, no doubt preoccupied with Council business, until Dawn caught his attention as she passed around glasses of eggnog. The Christmas tree glittered in the corner, the broken ornaments swept away and replaced with extras from the box of leftover decorations, and a decent-sized pile of presents now lay underneath. They were still minus one coffee table, but Xander had offered to build a new one as a belated Christmas gift. The emotional wreckage was harder to repair. She hadn’t seen Spike since the big battle. It was probably safer that way, since the past four days had been full of Watchers’ Council interrogations. Giles had assured her that it was always like this when such an event happened, that she shouldn’t worry. “It’s just that when a human is involved in demonic activities – especially a high-profile person like Jacob’s father – it can get… messy,” he’d explained. “The Council may not always be trustworthy, but in this, they do know what they’re doing. Just let them handle it.” Buffy had realized that keeping the Council in the dark about Spike’s role in things was really the best way to avoid trouble. The last thing she wanted was for the hard-line Watchers to get the wrong idea and try to deal with Spike themselves. It was hard to stay away, when all she wanted was for Spike to wrap her up in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, the way he had the morning after the demon attack at the house. She’d finally caved and snuck over to the crypt the night before, but he was either out or avoiding her, and she’d resorted to a hastily-scrawled note assuring him that her invitation for Christmas Eve was still good. “So, Jacob’s going back to Chicago?” Willow asked, as Buffy took a seat on the sofa next to her. “Yeah. After what happened, he’s transferring schools. He only came out here to be closer to his dad, so…” She cupped her glass of eggnog in both hands, staring into it as though it held answers. “That must be so awful,” Tara said sympathetically. “It was a terrible way to find out what his father was doing.” Willow nodded in agreement. “How did he take it, when he found out his dad was, you know… dead?” Buffy was silent for a moment. “I think he realized his dad was gone long before I killed him.” “Oh, Buffy.” Willow put her arm around her best friend, wanting to comfort, but at a loss for words. “It’s okay, Will,” she replied unconvincingly. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “How are you feeling?” “Better. Way better. Once the spell was broken, it was like, miracle recovery.” She shrugged. “Or, you know, like magic. I’m just sorry I missed the big battle.” “Don’t be,” Buffy assured her. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” “Hey, where’s Emma?” Dawn asked. “Didn’t you invite her?” “She went back to England,” Giles spoke up. “She said that she found the Hellmouth far too distracting for her purposes.” Buffy’s eyes widened with guilt. “Oh, Will, I’m so sorry! I know you were looking forward to her teaching you.” “No, it’s okay!” Willow grinned. “Tara and I are going, too. We leave the day after Christmas.” When Buffy looked amazed, she added, “What? I can’t be spontaneous? We’ve got three weeks of winter break left. Might as well learn something.” ***** Jacob trudged through the airport, shifting his bags and the heavy winter coat that was draped over one arm. He didn’t need it in the balmy California weather, but he knew he’d probably walk out into a snowstorm at O’Hare. Stepping up to the baggage check, he handed over his paperwork, going through the motions of checking his luggage without any of it breaking through the numbness. The airline employee at the desk handed him his ticket and boarding pass. “There you are, Mr. Kessler. And for your return flight –” “I won’t be needing that,” he cut her off. “I’m not coming back.” He thought he would have to stay, to answer questions, but Giles had told him that the Watcher’s Council would take care of everything. Within twenty-four hours of the horrific events, an army of stodgy Brits had descended on his father’s house, clearing out the demon bodies and all evidence of magic. The official police report had said suicide, which was ridiculous by any stretch of the imagination, but no officers had even come to the house to investigate. It was somewhat unsettling, that his father’s death would be swept under the rug because of its paranormal connections. But part of him thought maybe it was best just to forget all of this, forget Sunnydale, pretend it had never happened. Slinging his carry-on bag over his shoulder, Jacob went to find a seat in the terminal waiting area until his flight was called. Just as he settled down, his phone rang. “Hello?” “Hi, it’s me.” Her voice was soft, hesitant. “Are – are you at the airport?” “Yeah.” “Do you have to wait long?” “Another half hour or so.” He heard Buffy sigh on the other end of the phone. “I just – I wanted to say I’m sorry.” “You don’t have to.” “I know, but – I really am sorry. For everything.” “Me, too.” An uncomfortable silence fell over the line, until finally Jacob said, “You should go.” “Merry Christmas,” she offered weakly. “Merry Christmas.” Hanging up the phone, Jacob stared at the people hurrying past on their way to catch their flights, his gaze focusing on nothing. ***** Buffy placed the phone carefully back into its cradle and went to rejoin the gang in the living room. Willow and Tara looked up at her with expectant faces, but she didn’t have the energy to rehash the conversation. Instead, she picked up her empty glass from where she’d abandoned it on the end table. “I need more nog. I’m nogless. Anyone want anything?” When they shook their heads, she headed into the kitchen, stopping short in the doorway as she took in the figure standing there. He was facing the refrigerator, head bowed as though he was studying the grocery list or Dawn’s school picture, stuck to the door with magnets. “Hi.” Spike turned, as if startled to see her in her own house. “Hi.” “What are you doing lurking in here? Everyone’s –” Buffy started to gesture over her shoulder towards the living room. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted me around,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “Pretty sure they won’t want me around.” “Spike –” “Way I figure, if you intended to stake me, you’d’ve done it already.” He paused, looking to her for confirmation. “Spike, I have no intention of –” “That’s why I’m leavin’ town.” Buffy’s empty glass clattered to the countertop. Surely she hadn’t heard him right. But then he said, “Just came to say goodbye,” and her knees almost gave out. “What?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Why?” “You know why.” When she just stared at him, he shook his head angrily. “Everything’s changed, Slayer. It’s all – you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.” “I told them I did it.” He stopped, his face frozen in incomprehension. “Or… maybe you can.” “I told them I killed him. I knew it would be… hard for them to understand, so I made it easier.” He was perfectly still, speechless. The only way she knew for sure that he’d heard her was the look in his eyes – bewildered, searching, agonized, all at once. She tried to reassure him. “You did the right thing, Spike. You know that, right?” “Did I? That’s just it, Buffy. I don’t know. Don’t have a precious soul to tell me.” There was a harsh, mocking tone to his voice, throwing back in her face all the times she’d held that up as a precondition for love and acceptance. “All I know is how it felt.” He backed her up against the sink, grabbing her arm roughly as he leaned in, the full length of his body pressed against hers. “Same as it felt to drink from you. Same as it felt to rip the throat out of every one of my victims.” He could feel the bloodlust rising up in him just thinking about it, and he let out a low growl. “Can’t just shut that away. It’s what I am.” He pressed his forehead to her temple, and she could feel bones shifting as the ridges formed against her skin. He whispered in her ear. “Demon.” “No…” She tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. “Spike… please…” “What am I, Buffy?” he demanded, his demonic visage inches from her face, challenging her to deny its dominance. “A monster or a man?” “Let’s leave the existential questions until after dinner, okay?” Buffy replied lightly, partly to ease the tension, and partly to show him that he couldn’t intimidate her into revealing the fear he thought she should feel. “I mean it, Slayer. Never be a man, will I?” He let her go, shoving her against the cabinets as he took a step back. “Spike –” “I thought I’d changed,” he said, his anger draining away into regret as he slipped out of game face. “Thought I loved you enough, even without the chip, could still be good. But I can’t, Buffy.” “Yes, you can.” “I killed him,” he insisted. “Didn’t even blink. Maybe it was all right this time, but what happens next time? I killed without battin’ an eye for a hundred an’ twenty years. Few years of forced restraint haven't changed that.” “Are you even listening to yourself? Tell me that the Spike who killed for all those years would’ve ever had this conversation. Tell me he would’ve cared about right and wrong. Tell me he would’ve done all the good that you’ve done.” She placed her palm on his chest. “You have changed, Spike. Soul or not, there’s something there. And it’s stronger than your demon. I’ve seen it. I know what you’re capable of.” “So do I,” he said darkly. “Shhh. Let me help you. Please.” They stood there for what felt like an eternity to Buffy, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, until finally he gave an almost imperceptible nod and flicked his gaze toward the floor. She stood up on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his lips. “I want you to live here, with me. With us.” Spike shook his head. “Dunno what the rebound period is for shackin’ up with the guy who killed your boyfriend’s father, but I’m sure it’s longer than this, Buffy.” She flinched, as though his words had physically hurt her. “I didn’t mean it like that. We can take it slow, if you want. You could have your own room and everything. I just think it would be good, you living here, like we planned before.” “You’re getting a paycheck now, yeah? Don’t need a boarder anymore.” He ran wistful fingers over the countertop, tracing the crevices with care. “It’s not about the money, Spike. It’s about trust.” She placed her hand over his, stilling his motion, and he looked at her curiously. “My sister lives here. There’s no one in the world I want to keep safe more than her. If I thought you were dangerous…” “I get it.” Their eyes met again, and he could see in hers everything he’d been hoping to see for over a year. Buffy reached up to cup his face in her hand. “Merry Christmas, Spike.” Pulling his head down, she met him in a gentle, open-mouthed kiss. His lips parted against her tongue, his hands grazing over her arms, her back, before settling at her hips, tugging her flush against him. Her touch was tender, unhurried, not the frantic fumblings in his crypt or the zero-to-sixty lust of the graveyard, but the languid kiss of someone who knew she had all the time in the world. Someone who knew what she wanted, and recognized that she was holding it in her hands. ***** A knock on the front door sounded, and Dawn hurried to answer it, only to be met by the sight of Xander dressed in a Santa costume, bearing a shopping bag full of colorfully-wrapped presents in each hand. Even though they all had their own trees in their apartments, there had been a silent understanding to bring all the gifts to the Summers’ house, where they would open them together, as a family. “Ho ho ho?” Xander offered half-heartedly. “Okay. You know I’m too old for this, right?” Dawn asked. “Anya made me dress up for the Magic Box,” he grumbled as he stepped past her into the house, causing Willow and Tara to dissolve into giggles at the sight of him. “I think it’s very sexy,” Anya replied. Xander just gave her a dirty look as he dropped his bags to yank the white beard off. The others avoided eye contact, their gazes suddenly darting around the room with discomfort, pondering whether they’d unwittingly stumbled onto one of Anya’s weird sexual kinks. “I, uh, wouldn’t think you’d get a lot of business at a magic shop on Christmas Eve,” Tara said, diplomatically trying to change the subject. “Everyone has last-minute shopping,” Anya replied. In a gleeful tone, she added, “And they’re usually desperate, so you can charge more.” “Honey, I think someone’s forgetting the true meaning of Christmas,” Xander teased, putting an arm around his fiancée. “Hey, speaking of which, you’re just in time for Charlie Brown!” said Willow. Xander glanced at the television, where the assembled group of cartoon children had just broken into a chorus of Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. “It’s over, Will.” “Yeah, but we’re gonna watch it again, and this time you have to do the Snoopy dance.” As they all settled down to partake in Xander and Willow’s holiday tradition, Buffy and Spike came out from the kitchen, the vampire looking a little hesitant even as Buffy intertwined her fingers with his encouragingly. “Spike! You came!” Dawn threw herself at him, forcing him to drop Buffy’s hand to catch hold of her as she flung her arms around his neck in a hug that nearly lifted her off the ground. “Happy Christmas, Bit,” he replied, hugging her back. Over her shoulder, he glanced at Buffy, who smiled, and then at Giles, who surprised him with a nod as he raised his glass of eggnog in silent greeting. Taking in the rest of the group, particularly Anya perched on Santa’s lap in the armchair, Spike raised an eyebrow. “Finally found your true calling, Harris?” “That’s ‘Xander Claus’ to you, buddy.” He pointed at Spike with jocular mock-seriousness. “You’re on my naughty list.” “Don’t worry,” Anya assured Spike with a wink. “I’m on his naughty list, too.” Xander’s cheeks suddenly matched his outfit. “Not the same list, Ahn!” “Come on, guys. Snoopy time,” Willow said, shifting closer to Tara to make room on the sofa for Spike, while Buffy perched on the arm next to him. As Charlie Brown and his friends continued to carol, Spike felt Buffy’s hand on the back of his neck, her fingers gently running through the hair at his nape. Part of him felt like an intruder; if they knew what he’d done, what he was still capable of, they’d never have welcomed him so warmly. But she believed in him. She trusted him, and she was giving him a chance to prove that he could be a man. And as he leaned back into her touch, he realized that was the best Christmas present she could’ve given him. ***** the end