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Welcome Back to the Hellmouth
Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar for agreeing to take another ride with me. Thank you to all of you who encouraged me to write this sequel. Please review. I need feedback on this one.
In this version of events Joyce survived, Buffy and Spike had a substantially healthier relationship and his motivation for getting the soul was different, and Tara was not anywhere near the house when shots were fired. Also the Bringers started their potential hunting early and the activation spell was cast over the summer to protect the girls who don’t show up on Council radar. So what happens when the lost potentials start popping up, and what is The First up to?
In this installment we meet a new slayer, Spike observes how much changed in his absence, and Buffy dreams. R for now. Eventually NC-17.
Chapter One: Welcome Back to the Hellmouth
The sitch in the living room looked pretty grim. The two blonds were glaring at each other. Spike was all crossed arms and scowl, slumped against the stair railing. Buffy held a stake, not pointed at the vamp but tight in her hand like she might crush it. Also, she was clearly wigging, all big eyes and mouth gone flat. Faith knew that look.
"So, this some kind of kinky role play thing, or has Billy been a bad boy?"
Buffy snapped out of it and blinked at the stake. "Nothing," she sputtered, tossing it back in a bin by the coat rack. "It's nothing."
"Oh, is that right, Slayer?" Spike looked furious. Which Faith had to admit was pretty scary, even knowing he couldn't do dick about it without his head exploding. Then suddenly he stood straight up, head cocked like a dog hearing a door slam. He rounded on Buffy and his expression did a one-eighty to admiration. "You woke them!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Buffy was going for gruff, but her shoulders started to relax. Having a guy look at her like that would probably melt her too.
"Her!" Spike gestured to the terrified girl, who was clinging to the doorframe for dear life and looking like she was seriously wishing she'd never come up the walk. Faith knew the feeling.
"Oh." Buffy waved at the girl. "Come in." She frowned at Spike, with her dial turned back to bitch. "There's a whole bunch of Slayers now. A lot changed while you were gone."
Spike went from smitten to pissed off in about six seconds. "Yeah. I'm beginning to see that," he spat back.
"Um, isn't that a vampire?" the skinny kid asked. "Is this a test or something? Am I supposed to kill it?"
"NO!" Buffy took a step towards her undead honey and Faith noticed an amused smirk pass over Spike's face. "I mean, yes. He is a vampire, but he's... different. So no killing." God, she'd forgotten how Buffy could get that tone in her voice, like a scolding kindergarten teacher. Because it's wrong.
"Got places to be," the vampire announced before making a big show of lighting a cigarette and sauntering out. Buffy looked like she wanted to follow him, but instead she put on her chipper California girl face and turned to the new girl.
Faith watched them stare at each other for a few seconds. The girl looked to be about Brat's age. A little horse-faced. Desperately needed to eat some ribs. Her own were almost enough to poke a demon to death the way they stuck out.
"I'm sorry if I ran Billy off," she said finally.
Faith couldn't hold back a snort. Buffy was visibly swallowing her giggles. "He'll be fine," she assured the girl. "Tell us about you. We’re so glad to meet you!"
The kid looked a little startled by Buff’s enthusiasm. Like, dial it down a notch, B. We’re not founding a cult here. Or maybe they were, with all the ‘give up your former life and join our family, and by the way, you have a sacred duty now’ stuff. They’d talked about it, of course, what they would do if the missing potentials started popping up. Faith was happy to let Buffy deliver the spiel though.
"I'm Amanda. And actually I'd like to hear more about you. Like, first of all, what's a Slayer?"
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“Burba weed’s getting a bit old, love, and—Bit?”
Dawn looked up from the desk where she was trying to make sense of the quarterly numbers. Mom and Tara had dropped her off after their coffee run. It was late, but it was summer time so she would be blissfully sleeping until at least noon. She always called someone to come get her when she was done. Dawn knew better than to walk around alone late at night.
“What are you doing out and about this late?” Apparently Spike thought she was that stupid. Which was fair enough, because she was certain he was. Disappearing for months with no word and this just waltzing in all ‘look at me and my shiny new soul’. The reunion with Buffy must have gone about as well as she’d predicted since he was on the prowl for blood spice instead of having a happyfest with Buffy.
“I’m not out and about. I’m working. There’s fresh weed coming in tomorrow, okay. It hasn’t been moving as quickly this summer without you around to steal it.”
“Always pay for it. Eventually.”
He prowled around the store and poked at the merchandise a little. Dawn sighed and closed the ledger. "Let me guess, Buffy's afraid you've undergone an extreme personality change."
Spike sneered. "Matter of fact, yeah."
"So have you?" During their brief chat before Buffy got home, he had seemed like Spike. "Are you all William the sad poet with Spike's hair now?"
He glared, but then his gaze wandered to the middle distance. "Maybe a bit moreso than before. Still of a mind to threaten you with popping off your head and drinking from your brain stem for a comment like that. But I feel bad about it. Frightening little girls for sport has lost a bit of its appeal."
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Well, give her some time to figure out that the soul didn't, like, obliterate the guy she fell for."
"Getting to be a habit, giving your sister time."
"Well, she waited for you all this time, so cut her some slack." Dawn locked the books up and checked the lock on the register. “Did your soul blot out the memory of how to pick up a phone or lick a stamp?”
Spike ignored her accusations. "Does demon girl know you're playing with the cash box? Wouldn't think she'd like you sneaking about the place. Where is Anya?"
"You are sneaking. I'm working. Anya's probably sleeping. She sleeps a lot now. Dr. Scanlon says it's part of the grief process."
Spike gaped at her. "Grief process?"
Dawn blinked back tears. Every time she had to tell the story, it was like ripping a wound open. "Xander. Warren Meeks shot him. And then Willow sliced Warren in half. Then I had to clock her with a chair before she unraveled space and time." So maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but considering Willow’s history, she wasn’t so sure.
"Christ."
"Yeah. It was a busy day."
"Red cut him in half?"
Dawn watched him light another cigarette. She knew she should probably tell him not to light up in the store, but it was too fascinating watching him reel from the news that tragedy had befallen them. He'd been overwhelmed by the loss of Buffy, of course, but this was the first time she'd seen anyone else's demise bother him.
"Yep. Buffy said she did some other stuff first, but then she split him open."
"Good on her." He took a long drag. "Come on, Bit. I'll walk you home."
On the sidewalk he gave her a thorough looking over. And was he sniffing her? It was kinda creepy actually. "You're not a Slayer, then?"
"Yeah, I don't get it either." It was something she's thought about a few times since Willow's spell was cast. Or, you know, a few million times. "I'm supposed to be made out of Buffy, right? I really don't get how any of it works, but all the girls in training got all chosen when they did the spell, so I guess my blood and Buffy's blood aren't exactly the same after all." She sighed. "It's probably better this way."
Spike gave her a long glance. "That so?"
"There's a whole bunch of other stuff that happens when you become a Slayer besides super strength. I sort of have life plans that don't involve perpetual demon hunting." After a beat she added, "Like possibly, you know, babies."
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Spike frown. "Let's not get too eager about that, Niblet."
Dawn felt herself blush a little, which was stupid. Like she was anywhere near contemplating doing more than letting Jeremy Sutter stick his hand up her shirt. "No kidding, you doof." They'd arrived at the back porch. "You want to come in?"
She followed his eyes up to the light shining from Buffy's window. "Not tonight, Bit."
From the safe vantage of the kitchen window, she watched him stalk off until he blended in with the shadows. At least this time she was sure she would see him again.
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"So he's got a soul now."
It was always so disconcerting when she knew she was dreaming in a dream. Her dream self smacked a boot against the library table and snapped her gum at a bloody-chested Xander, slumped comfortably across the table from her. She could even smell it, that scent of old books that permeated the Sunnydale High library. Something dark prowled in the book cage, but she ignored it and focused on Xander.
“So, your boy’s back. How long you gonna make him wait, Buff?” Xander spun a quarter on the tabletop. “It’s been, what, a week? He’s not the soul of patience, you know.”
"That’s cute.” She pushed some books around. “I don't know who he is anymore."
Xander grinned. "Oh! Maybe he's me now. Maybe they gave him my soul. That would be neat."
"That would be creepy," she objected.
"Wow, don't even want me when I'm shaped like your favorite undead lust bunny? That's harsh, Buff."
But he was grinning, like it was all a joke. "Ugh, Xander.” She examined her nails. Bubble gum pink. “You ever use that term with Anya?”
“I like my parts in tact, thank you.” They both looked at his broken chest. “I’m still getting used to the new look.”
She sighed. "I know you're just me, just another part of me trying to tell me something."
He shrugged. "Or maybe I'm haunting you." He wriggled his fingers and moaned, "Woooooo."
She smirked, a giggle in her voice. "Please. If you were haunting me I'd be naked in this dream."
"You are naked." She glanced down and saw that she was wearing a cow-print mini skirt and a red halter top. Xander was laughing. "Made you look!"
"Maybe you really are Xander, you dork." She frowned. "Did I really use to dress like this?"
"You're so young." Xander's face was serious. "They're going to be young too, you know. Younger than you were. Some even younger than Amanda."
Buffy rested her forehead on her hand. "I know. I don't know what to do about them. I don't even know how to find them."
He patted her hair. "You'll figure it out. You always do. And don't forget, you have people to help you. Even if you're not sure you know who they are anymore."
"Do you think he got the original one back?"
"Did Angel?"
She shrugged. "I always just assumed so, I guess. Like, why would they shove some random one in there, but I don't know. Even if it is William's, I don't know William. And William doesn't know me." She groaned. "I just want Spike back."
"But, he came back to you, right? So that's something." Xander grabbed a notebook and started writing Buffy the Bloody in cursive letters all over it.
"That just means he remembers me, the same way Spike remembered Halfrek."
Xander drew a lopsided heart around the fanciest 'Buffy'. "Maybe he remembers that he can bite you. Or that he has an open invitation to your house."
"Way to comfort me, Xan."
"Sorry, that's not my assignment."
"What the hell does that mean?"
The thing in the cage rattled the bars. "Are you going to let her out?" Xander asked.
Buffy tried to make the dark blurry creature come into focus. "I don't think that's my call."
"Bell's gonna ring. It's time for class."
The bell clanged. Buffy sat up in her bed and threw off the covers. It was two in the morning. She desperately needed to talk to Spike.
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What happens next? Read the epilogue to Borrowed Time. I hope to have a new chapter soon. Please feed the muse!
In this version of events Joyce survived, Buffy and Spike had a substantially healthier relationship and his motivation for getting the soul was different, and Tara was not anywhere near the house when shots were fired. Also the Bringers started their potential hunting early and the activation spell was cast over the summer to protect the girls who don’t show up on Council radar. So what happens when the lost potentials start popping up, and what is The First up to?
In this installment we meet a new slayer, Spike observes how much changed in his absence, and Buffy dreams. R for now. Eventually NC-17.
Chapter One: Welcome Back to the Hellmouth
The sitch in the living room looked pretty grim. The two blonds were glaring at each other. Spike was all crossed arms and scowl, slumped against the stair railing. Buffy held a stake, not pointed at the vamp but tight in her hand like she might crush it. Also, she was clearly wigging, all big eyes and mouth gone flat. Faith knew that look.
"So, this some kind of kinky role play thing, or has Billy been a bad boy?"
Buffy snapped out of it and blinked at the stake. "Nothing," she sputtered, tossing it back in a bin by the coat rack. "It's nothing."
"Oh, is that right, Slayer?" Spike looked furious. Which Faith had to admit was pretty scary, even knowing he couldn't do dick about it without his head exploding. Then suddenly he stood straight up, head cocked like a dog hearing a door slam. He rounded on Buffy and his expression did a one-eighty to admiration. "You woke them!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Buffy was going for gruff, but her shoulders started to relax. Having a guy look at her like that would probably melt her too.
"Her!" Spike gestured to the terrified girl, who was clinging to the doorframe for dear life and looking like she was seriously wishing she'd never come up the walk. Faith knew the feeling.
"Oh." Buffy waved at the girl. "Come in." She frowned at Spike, with her dial turned back to bitch. "There's a whole bunch of Slayers now. A lot changed while you were gone."
Spike went from smitten to pissed off in about six seconds. "Yeah. I'm beginning to see that," he spat back.
"Um, isn't that a vampire?" the skinny kid asked. "Is this a test or something? Am I supposed to kill it?"
"NO!" Buffy took a step towards her undead honey and Faith noticed an amused smirk pass over Spike's face. "I mean, yes. He is a vampire, but he's... different. So no killing." God, she'd forgotten how Buffy could get that tone in her voice, like a scolding kindergarten teacher. Because it's wrong.
"Got places to be," the vampire announced before making a big show of lighting a cigarette and sauntering out. Buffy looked like she wanted to follow him, but instead she put on her chipper California girl face and turned to the new girl.
Faith watched them stare at each other for a few seconds. The girl looked to be about Brat's age. A little horse-faced. Desperately needed to eat some ribs. Her own were almost enough to poke a demon to death the way they stuck out.
"I'm sorry if I ran Billy off," she said finally.
Faith couldn't hold back a snort. Buffy was visibly swallowing her giggles. "He'll be fine," she assured the girl. "Tell us about you. We’re so glad to meet you!"
The kid looked a little startled by Buff’s enthusiasm. Like, dial it down a notch, B. We’re not founding a cult here. Or maybe they were, with all the ‘give up your former life and join our family, and by the way, you have a sacred duty now’ stuff. They’d talked about it, of course, what they would do if the missing potentials started popping up. Faith was happy to let Buffy deliver the spiel though.
"I'm Amanda. And actually I'd like to hear more about you. Like, first of all, what's a Slayer?"
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“Burba weed’s getting a bit old, love, and—Bit?”
Dawn looked up from the desk where she was trying to make sense of the quarterly numbers. Mom and Tara had dropped her off after their coffee run. It was late, but it was summer time so she would be blissfully sleeping until at least noon. She always called someone to come get her when she was done. Dawn knew better than to walk around alone late at night.
“What are you doing out and about this late?” Apparently Spike thought she was that stupid. Which was fair enough, because she was certain he was. Disappearing for months with no word and this just waltzing in all ‘look at me and my shiny new soul’. The reunion with Buffy must have gone about as well as she’d predicted since he was on the prowl for blood spice instead of having a happyfest with Buffy.
“I’m not out and about. I’m working. There’s fresh weed coming in tomorrow, okay. It hasn’t been moving as quickly this summer without you around to steal it.”
“Always pay for it. Eventually.”
He prowled around the store and poked at the merchandise a little. Dawn sighed and closed the ledger. "Let me guess, Buffy's afraid you've undergone an extreme personality change."
Spike sneered. "Matter of fact, yeah."
"So have you?" During their brief chat before Buffy got home, he had seemed like Spike. "Are you all William the sad poet with Spike's hair now?"
He glared, but then his gaze wandered to the middle distance. "Maybe a bit moreso than before. Still of a mind to threaten you with popping off your head and drinking from your brain stem for a comment like that. But I feel bad about it. Frightening little girls for sport has lost a bit of its appeal."
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Well, give her some time to figure out that the soul didn't, like, obliterate the guy she fell for."
"Getting to be a habit, giving your sister time."
"Well, she waited for you all this time, so cut her some slack." Dawn locked the books up and checked the lock on the register. “Did your soul blot out the memory of how to pick up a phone or lick a stamp?”
Spike ignored her accusations. "Does demon girl know you're playing with the cash box? Wouldn't think she'd like you sneaking about the place. Where is Anya?"
"You are sneaking. I'm working. Anya's probably sleeping. She sleeps a lot now. Dr. Scanlon says it's part of the grief process."
Spike gaped at her. "Grief process?"
Dawn blinked back tears. Every time she had to tell the story, it was like ripping a wound open. "Xander. Warren Meeks shot him. And then Willow sliced Warren in half. Then I had to clock her with a chair before she unraveled space and time." So maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but considering Willow’s history, she wasn’t so sure.
"Christ."
"Yeah. It was a busy day."
"Red cut him in half?"
Dawn watched him light another cigarette. She knew she should probably tell him not to light up in the store, but it was too fascinating watching him reel from the news that tragedy had befallen them. He'd been overwhelmed by the loss of Buffy, of course, but this was the first time she'd seen anyone else's demise bother him.
"Yep. Buffy said she did some other stuff first, but then she split him open."
"Good on her." He took a long drag. "Come on, Bit. I'll walk you home."
On the sidewalk he gave her a thorough looking over. And was he sniffing her? It was kinda creepy actually. "You're not a Slayer, then?"
"Yeah, I don't get it either." It was something she's thought about a few times since Willow's spell was cast. Or, you know, a few million times. "I'm supposed to be made out of Buffy, right? I really don't get how any of it works, but all the girls in training got all chosen when they did the spell, so I guess my blood and Buffy's blood aren't exactly the same after all." She sighed. "It's probably better this way."
Spike gave her a long glance. "That so?"
"There's a whole bunch of other stuff that happens when you become a Slayer besides super strength. I sort of have life plans that don't involve perpetual demon hunting." After a beat she added, "Like possibly, you know, babies."
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Spike frown. "Let's not get too eager about that, Niblet."
Dawn felt herself blush a little, which was stupid. Like she was anywhere near contemplating doing more than letting Jeremy Sutter stick his hand up her shirt. "No kidding, you doof." They'd arrived at the back porch. "You want to come in?"
She followed his eyes up to the light shining from Buffy's window. "Not tonight, Bit."
From the safe vantage of the kitchen window, she watched him stalk off until he blended in with the shadows. At least this time she was sure she would see him again.
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"So he's got a soul now."
It was always so disconcerting when she knew she was dreaming in a dream. Her dream self smacked a boot against the library table and snapped her gum at a bloody-chested Xander, slumped comfortably across the table from her. She could even smell it, that scent of old books that permeated the Sunnydale High library. Something dark prowled in the book cage, but she ignored it and focused on Xander.
“So, your boy’s back. How long you gonna make him wait, Buff?” Xander spun a quarter on the tabletop. “It’s been, what, a week? He’s not the soul of patience, you know.”
"That’s cute.” She pushed some books around. “I don't know who he is anymore."
Xander grinned. "Oh! Maybe he's me now. Maybe they gave him my soul. That would be neat."
"That would be creepy," she objected.
"Wow, don't even want me when I'm shaped like your favorite undead lust bunny? That's harsh, Buff."
But he was grinning, like it was all a joke. "Ugh, Xander.” She examined her nails. Bubble gum pink. “You ever use that term with Anya?”
“I like my parts in tact, thank you.” They both looked at his broken chest. “I’m still getting used to the new look.”
She sighed. "I know you're just me, just another part of me trying to tell me something."
He shrugged. "Or maybe I'm haunting you." He wriggled his fingers and moaned, "Woooooo."
She smirked, a giggle in her voice. "Please. If you were haunting me I'd be naked in this dream."
"You are naked." She glanced down and saw that she was wearing a cow-print mini skirt and a red halter top. Xander was laughing. "Made you look!"
"Maybe you really are Xander, you dork." She frowned. "Did I really use to dress like this?"
"You're so young." Xander's face was serious. "They're going to be young too, you know. Younger than you were. Some even younger than Amanda."
Buffy rested her forehead on her hand. "I know. I don't know what to do about them. I don't even know how to find them."
He patted her hair. "You'll figure it out. You always do. And don't forget, you have people to help you. Even if you're not sure you know who they are anymore."
"Do you think he got the original one back?"
"Did Angel?"
She shrugged. "I always just assumed so, I guess. Like, why would they shove some random one in there, but I don't know. Even if it is William's, I don't know William. And William doesn't know me." She groaned. "I just want Spike back."
"But, he came back to you, right? So that's something." Xander grabbed a notebook and started writing Buffy the Bloody in cursive letters all over it.
"That just means he remembers me, the same way Spike remembered Halfrek."
Xander drew a lopsided heart around the fanciest 'Buffy'. "Maybe he remembers that he can bite you. Or that he has an open invitation to your house."
"Way to comfort me, Xan."
"Sorry, that's not my assignment."
"What the hell does that mean?"
The thing in the cage rattled the bars. "Are you going to let her out?" Xander asked.
Buffy tried to make the dark blurry creature come into focus. "I don't think that's my call."
"Bell's gonna ring. It's time for class."
The bell clanged. Buffy sat up in her bed and threw off the covers. It was two in the morning. She desperately needed to talk to Spike.
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What happens next? Read the epilogue to Borrowed Time. I hope to have a new chapter soon. Please feed the muse!
Reacquainted
Author’s Note: As always, thanks to Kar for the beta job and to my readers for reviews and encouragement. We are now past the events of the Borrowed Time epilogue and the plot is moving forward. Feedback is cherished.
In our second installment Willow and Giles return from England, Amanda gets some training, and we check in with Anya. This one’s a hard-R, I think.
Chapter Two: Reacquainted
Willow scanned the crowd waiting by baggage claim and did a double-take when she registered the Anya was the fourth person on the left. She was sporting her natural hair color again and was thin to the point of frailty. With a pang Willow remembered a call from Buffy. Anya hadn't had a period for two months and there was desperate hope that a little Xander might be on the horizon. Anya's spirits had briefly lifted, only to be crushed again when the doctor had informed her that it was stress and her drastic weight loss causing her to skip.
She felt Giles's warm hand on her shoulder. "Are you quite alright?"
She nodded. "I'm fine, really. Just nervous."
"Ah, there's Anya," Giles announced as the fragile woman approached.
"Welcome back," she greeted them with saccharine cheer. "When you have retrieved your luggage, I'll take you to your accommodations."
Willow listened with one ear as the two of them discussed Magic Box business. They loaded the car and continued their shop talk. A block of office buildings next door had been unoccupied for six months; a supplier was raising his prices, etc. Willow tuned them out and watched the houses slip by.
Once Giles had been deposited at the Sunnydale Arms, they were alone in the car. Willow realized she had no idea what to say to Anya. Why had she accepted the offer to stay at the apartment? Even her parents' house would be better.
Then Anya reached out and grabbed her hand. "I know you miss him too," she whispered, eyes firmly on the road.
Willow squeezed Anya's hand. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible.
"I've been packing up his things to take the Goodwill," Anya informed her. "But I thought you might want some of them."
"Thank you," Willow replied, a little wowed by the uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.
"Will you be okay by yourself for a while?" She handed Willow a key. "I need to do some things at the store before the meeting."
Willow nodded. When Anya had gone, she wandered carefully into the bedroom and gasped.
Anya had started packing his things. There was one empty box in front of his closet, another containing three sweatshirts. Inside the closet though, his khakis and flannels hung in neat rows. A pair of rumpled pajamas occupied a chair by the bed. A dusty, half-full glass of water sat on the bedside table.
How did Joyce do it, she wondered as she stripped hangers. She remembered watching Joyce and the robot load boxes into the SUV. The robot's cheerful announcement that Other Me's things were being given to the less fortunate.
Willow folded a shirt and put in the box. He wore that the last time we watched A Charlie Brown Christmas. He'll never wear it again. He wore this the night before his wedding. He'll never wear it again.
As the box filled up she remembered, not for the first time, the sight of Warren's spattered blood and dead eyes. But instead of the usual guilt or horror or sadness, Willow felt a warm rush of satisfaction.
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Buffy sat with Faith and Spike on the stack of mats, watching Giles coach Amanda. She was strong enough that when she landed a punch on his hand pads, he went stumbling backward. But her aim was off, probably more from nervousness than anything else.
Faith started bugging Spike for a cigarette and she ordered them both out into the alley if they were going to light up. No matter how much it pained her to see the two of them walking off all chummy.
She still wasn't sure where things stood with Spike. After helping him haul his boxes to the surprisingly nice little furnished apartment he'd rented, they had done a brief patrol. Over waffles at one of the all-nite places near campus, she'd tried in vain to get him to tell her more about the soul, his summer, or why he had moved into a basement apartment near UCS.
The level of frustration he was causing her was going a long way to convincing her he was still him. Which was just confusing enough to make sense in her world.
Faith and Spike didn't look any less friendly when they came back into the training room. But when Spike took his place next to her, Buffy felt his hand sneak up under the hem of her shirt to stroke the small of her back. She glanced up to see an uncharacteristically shy look on his face, instead of the leer she'd been expecting.
After their early hours breakfast, she had walked him home and resisted the urge to do more than kiss him once on the sidewalk before saying good-bye. With his fingers gently grazing her skin, it was really hard to remember why that had seemed like a good idea at the time. Nor could she recall exactly why she had been limiting their private time to a brief chat after patrolling with Faith, and sometimes Amanda, for the past two weeks.
Giles snapped her out of it by suggesting that Spike and Amanda spar. With a Nerf stake. Because Amanda might yet be clumsy, but she could still get lucky, especially with Spike pulling his punches. She remembered seeing him do this before, with her, the night she'd pumped him for information.
He was also taunting Amanda, who was clearly getting increasingly frustrated with her inability to get anywhere near his chest. "Oh, I'm getting the little slayer all mad. Observe my intense fear of your wrath."
Amanda glared at him. "I don't get mad." She hefted the fake stake. "I get stabby." With that she ducked under his swing and managed to punch the nerf rod against his breastbone.
"Good show, Amanda," Giles encouraged her. "Your average vampire won't have Spike's agility." He returned Spike's smirk at the compliment. "Of course the average vampire will also be hitting much harder."
"You did good," Buffy agreed. "And nice punning!"
Amanda flushed and plopped down by Faith on the mats. "I, uh, can't take credit for that. It's a Simpsons quote."
"You hungry?" Faith asked with a grin.
"Yes!" Amanda agreed heartily.
Faith popped her on the shoulder. "Come on, kid, let's get some grease in you. You guys wanna join us?"
"We're good," Buffy answered before she caught herself. "I mean, I'm good." It wasn't her place to speak for Spike, and if he wanted to hang out with Faith...
"You birds have fun," he told them and started stacking the mats he and Amanda had been fighting on.
"She's doing quite well," Giles announced when it was just the three of them. "And, Amanda's coming along nicely too."
Buffy pulled her eyes from the task of watching Spike's biceps as he heaved the mats around and tried to focus on Giles. "Have we figured out a way to find the others? Amanda saw us in a dream, but when she heard my name, she knew there was a Summers clan in town. What about girls in Buffalo or Paris?"
Giles shook his head. "We are working on it, Buffy. And I share your concerns."
Spike perched on the pommel horse. "What happens when you do find them? Send one of your tweedy crew to collect?"
"Boy, do I remember that experience." She shivered. "You Watchers really have the spooky cryptic thing down."
"You'd rather we be blunt and cheery about it?" Giles asked, only half-serious.
Buffy perked up. "Oh, my God! Giles, that's perfect!"
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Anya scanned her list. It has been a productive day.
Retrieve Willow and Giles from airport. check
Review quarterly numbers. check
Call accountant. check
Restock herbs. check
Cut payroll check for Dawn. check
Pay monthly bills. check
Be pleasant to Willow. check
Refrain from crying. check
She hadn’t gone to the Scooby meeting, but Willow had filled her in when she returned to the apartment. Giles wanted to speak to her, presumably about some business with the shop. She didn’t really like Giles poking around at things too much. She’d made sure the financials were in order, and he rarely seemed to care as long as he got his cut. They set a breakfast meeting before it was time to open for the day. Anya was glad she’d had the foresight to get the financials in order.
She and Willow had dinner and made idle conversation for a reasonable amount of time. When she was sure it wouldn’t be considered rude, she excused herself to prepare for bed.
Once she was in the bedroom though, she realized that Xander’s things were gone. She sank onto their bed and held his pillow tight against her chest. There wasn’t even any point in pretending it still smelled like him anymore. And why shouldn’t Willow pack up his things? Anya had invited her to sort through them. Xander was never going to need them again, after all. Xander would never wear those shirts, or drink that glass of water, put his pajamas in the hamper. Not ever.
She was going to have to uncheck that last one on the list.
---------
"Thank you for helping with Amanda." Buffy itched to take his hand. Or pretty much any part of him.
"Enjoyed it," Spike assured her as they walked along slowly.
She smiled at him. "You know, you'd be a good Watcher."
He sneered at that. "Well, when the new boys arrive next week, maybe I can ask for an application."
She glanced at the UCS clock tower as they passed it. "Next week I'll be back on campus again. Hopefully with fewer professors who actively want to destroy me this time."
Relief, among other things, rushed through her when he reached over and combed through her hair. "You be careful, Buffy."
At his building she followed him downstairs without discussion. When he unlocked the door he turned to ask, "Want to come in, then?"
"God yes," she breathed. They managed to make it over the threshold and get the door locked before they started working at each other's fastenings. "Missed you so much, you idiot," she hissed as he peeled her jeans down.
He seemed so much the same. The way he moved, the way he touched her; he had changed somehow but that was all wonderfully familiar. And he still loved her. That was still there in his eyes, along with the new. It was different, too, in the new apartment. Like the hotel room he'd rented that night of Xander's wedding. There was a bathtub -- she'd seen it when she helped him move. Maybe some night he'd let her chain him up in it for old time's sake.
When they were naked and twined on the quilt it suddenly became awkward. "What is it?" she asked quietly. Despite the privacy of the apartment, it seemed imperative to whisper.
He propped himself up on his elbows and she loosened her grip on his hips. “Never done this with a soul before.”
It was so weird to see Spike look bashful. It was also… kinda hot. “You…”
“Hadn’t married. Wasn’t the type to corner a scullery maid or visit Waterloo Road.”
She stroked his hair. “It works the same way. There are a number of helpful books or websites,” she teased.
With a groan he buried his face in her neck and snuffed against her pulse. “Thanks ever so, pet. Know that. Know just how you’re going to feel around me, all hot and tight. Could never forget how it feels to be inside you. But… feels new at the same time.”
Buffy tugged his head up so he could face her. His confession was making her warm all over. “Really not seeing the bad here.” She reached a hand between them and guided him in, watching his face the whole time. The look on his face as he thrust up into her was the same as that first time in his crypt. He stopped breathing for a moment and then gulped for unneeded air.
Then he began to move. Buffy moved with him, ankles crossed over his back. His hands covered hers and spread her arms up over his head. “You remember,” she gasped. “You definitely remember.” His warm laugh was almost as thrilling as the feel of him filling her, stroking in and out. It was hard to stay focused on his face, but she wanted to hold his eyes. Wanted to watch him watching her .
After all they were really both Watchers now.
Hours later they made it under the quilt, spooned together in a way she’d once balked at even considering. “Wanted to verify to my satisfaction that I remembered everything,” he whispered into her shoulder.
Buffy laughed and smacked the arm that was draped over her body. “Well, mission accomplished. And it was, you know, to my satisfaction too, in case you couldn’t tell,” she assured him. Her fingers trailed up and down his arm. “I’m really glad you’re back.” She was tired but her mind was still buzzing. “Will you do something for me?”
“Even vampires have their limits, love.”
If she already decided he was still her Spike that might have clenched it. “Tell me about William. And I want to truth this time. None of this crap about a pickpocket with artistic tendencies either.”
He was so tense by the time he’d finished his story she was almost afraid to move for fear he might crack. “Go on then.”
“Go on what?” The tension seeped out of him. She rolled on to her back and gave him a fond smile. Stupid vampire. She’d managed to compartmentalize the fact that he’d slaughtered thousands, and he was still afraid she’d reject him for being… a sad momma’s boy gentleman who wrote truly terrible poetry? “Spike, can I stay here tonight?”
Apparently Spike wasn’t quite as limited as he’d thought.
In our second installment Willow and Giles return from England, Amanda gets some training, and we check in with Anya. This one’s a hard-R, I think.
Chapter Two: Reacquainted
Willow scanned the crowd waiting by baggage claim and did a double-take when she registered the Anya was the fourth person on the left. She was sporting her natural hair color again and was thin to the point of frailty. With a pang Willow remembered a call from Buffy. Anya hadn't had a period for two months and there was desperate hope that a little Xander might be on the horizon. Anya's spirits had briefly lifted, only to be crushed again when the doctor had informed her that it was stress and her drastic weight loss causing her to skip.
She felt Giles's warm hand on her shoulder. "Are you quite alright?"
She nodded. "I'm fine, really. Just nervous."
"Ah, there's Anya," Giles announced as the fragile woman approached.
"Welcome back," she greeted them with saccharine cheer. "When you have retrieved your luggage, I'll take you to your accommodations."
Willow listened with one ear as the two of them discussed Magic Box business. They loaded the car and continued their shop talk. A block of office buildings next door had been unoccupied for six months; a supplier was raising his prices, etc. Willow tuned them out and watched the houses slip by.
Once Giles had been deposited at the Sunnydale Arms, they were alone in the car. Willow realized she had no idea what to say to Anya. Why had she accepted the offer to stay at the apartment? Even her parents' house would be better.
Then Anya reached out and grabbed her hand. "I know you miss him too," she whispered, eyes firmly on the road.
Willow squeezed Anya's hand. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible.
"I've been packing up his things to take the Goodwill," Anya informed her. "But I thought you might want some of them."
"Thank you," Willow replied, a little wowed by the uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.
"Will you be okay by yourself for a while?" She handed Willow a key. "I need to do some things at the store before the meeting."
Willow nodded. When Anya had gone, she wandered carefully into the bedroom and gasped.
Anya had started packing his things. There was one empty box in front of his closet, another containing three sweatshirts. Inside the closet though, his khakis and flannels hung in neat rows. A pair of rumpled pajamas occupied a chair by the bed. A dusty, half-full glass of water sat on the bedside table.
How did Joyce do it, she wondered as she stripped hangers. She remembered watching Joyce and the robot load boxes into the SUV. The robot's cheerful announcement that Other Me's things were being given to the less fortunate.
Willow folded a shirt and put in the box. He wore that the last time we watched A Charlie Brown Christmas. He'll never wear it again. He wore this the night before his wedding. He'll never wear it again.
As the box filled up she remembered, not for the first time, the sight of Warren's spattered blood and dead eyes. But instead of the usual guilt or horror or sadness, Willow felt a warm rush of satisfaction.
---------
Buffy sat with Faith and Spike on the stack of mats, watching Giles coach Amanda. She was strong enough that when she landed a punch on his hand pads, he went stumbling backward. But her aim was off, probably more from nervousness than anything else.
Faith started bugging Spike for a cigarette and she ordered them both out into the alley if they were going to light up. No matter how much it pained her to see the two of them walking off all chummy.
She still wasn't sure where things stood with Spike. After helping him haul his boxes to the surprisingly nice little furnished apartment he'd rented, they had done a brief patrol. Over waffles at one of the all-nite places near campus, she'd tried in vain to get him to tell her more about the soul, his summer, or why he had moved into a basement apartment near UCS.
The level of frustration he was causing her was going a long way to convincing her he was still him. Which was just confusing enough to make sense in her world.
Faith and Spike didn't look any less friendly when they came back into the training room. But when Spike took his place next to her, Buffy felt his hand sneak up under the hem of her shirt to stroke the small of her back. She glanced up to see an uncharacteristically shy look on his face, instead of the leer she'd been expecting.
After their early hours breakfast, she had walked him home and resisted the urge to do more than kiss him once on the sidewalk before saying good-bye. With his fingers gently grazing her skin, it was really hard to remember why that had seemed like a good idea at the time. Nor could she recall exactly why she had been limiting their private time to a brief chat after patrolling with Faith, and sometimes Amanda, for the past two weeks.
Giles snapped her out of it by suggesting that Spike and Amanda spar. With a Nerf stake. Because Amanda might yet be clumsy, but she could still get lucky, especially with Spike pulling his punches. She remembered seeing him do this before, with her, the night she'd pumped him for information.
He was also taunting Amanda, who was clearly getting increasingly frustrated with her inability to get anywhere near his chest. "Oh, I'm getting the little slayer all mad. Observe my intense fear of your wrath."
Amanda glared at him. "I don't get mad." She hefted the fake stake. "I get stabby." With that she ducked under his swing and managed to punch the nerf rod against his breastbone.
"Good show, Amanda," Giles encouraged her. "Your average vampire won't have Spike's agility." He returned Spike's smirk at the compliment. "Of course the average vampire will also be hitting much harder."
"You did good," Buffy agreed. "And nice punning!"
Amanda flushed and plopped down by Faith on the mats. "I, uh, can't take credit for that. It's a Simpsons quote."
"You hungry?" Faith asked with a grin.
"Yes!" Amanda agreed heartily.
Faith popped her on the shoulder. "Come on, kid, let's get some grease in you. You guys wanna join us?"
"We're good," Buffy answered before she caught herself. "I mean, I'm good." It wasn't her place to speak for Spike, and if he wanted to hang out with Faith...
"You birds have fun," he told them and started stacking the mats he and Amanda had been fighting on.
"She's doing quite well," Giles announced when it was just the three of them. "And, Amanda's coming along nicely too."
Buffy pulled her eyes from the task of watching Spike's biceps as he heaved the mats around and tried to focus on Giles. "Have we figured out a way to find the others? Amanda saw us in a dream, but when she heard my name, she knew there was a Summers clan in town. What about girls in Buffalo or Paris?"
Giles shook his head. "We are working on it, Buffy. And I share your concerns."
Spike perched on the pommel horse. "What happens when you do find them? Send one of your tweedy crew to collect?"
"Boy, do I remember that experience." She shivered. "You Watchers really have the spooky cryptic thing down."
"You'd rather we be blunt and cheery about it?" Giles asked, only half-serious.
Buffy perked up. "Oh, my God! Giles, that's perfect!"
---------
Anya scanned her list. It has been a productive day.
Retrieve Willow and Giles from airport. check
Review quarterly numbers. check
Call accountant. check
Restock herbs. check
Cut payroll check for Dawn. check
Pay monthly bills. check
Be pleasant to Willow. check
Refrain from crying. check
She hadn’t gone to the Scooby meeting, but Willow had filled her in when she returned to the apartment. Giles wanted to speak to her, presumably about some business with the shop. She didn’t really like Giles poking around at things too much. She’d made sure the financials were in order, and he rarely seemed to care as long as he got his cut. They set a breakfast meeting before it was time to open for the day. Anya was glad she’d had the foresight to get the financials in order.
She and Willow had dinner and made idle conversation for a reasonable amount of time. When she was sure it wouldn’t be considered rude, she excused herself to prepare for bed.
Once she was in the bedroom though, she realized that Xander’s things were gone. She sank onto their bed and held his pillow tight against her chest. There wasn’t even any point in pretending it still smelled like him anymore. And why shouldn’t Willow pack up his things? Anya had invited her to sort through them. Xander was never going to need them again, after all. Xander would never wear those shirts, or drink that glass of water, put his pajamas in the hamper. Not ever.
She was going to have to uncheck that last one on the list.
---------
"Thank you for helping with Amanda." Buffy itched to take his hand. Or pretty much any part of him.
"Enjoyed it," Spike assured her as they walked along slowly.
She smiled at him. "You know, you'd be a good Watcher."
He sneered at that. "Well, when the new boys arrive next week, maybe I can ask for an application."
She glanced at the UCS clock tower as they passed it. "Next week I'll be back on campus again. Hopefully with fewer professors who actively want to destroy me this time."
Relief, among other things, rushed through her when he reached over and combed through her hair. "You be careful, Buffy."
At his building she followed him downstairs without discussion. When he unlocked the door he turned to ask, "Want to come in, then?"
"God yes," she breathed. They managed to make it over the threshold and get the door locked before they started working at each other's fastenings. "Missed you so much, you idiot," she hissed as he peeled her jeans down.
He seemed so much the same. The way he moved, the way he touched her; he had changed somehow but that was all wonderfully familiar. And he still loved her. That was still there in his eyes, along with the new. It was different, too, in the new apartment. Like the hotel room he'd rented that night of Xander's wedding. There was a bathtub -- she'd seen it when she helped him move. Maybe some night he'd let her chain him up in it for old time's sake.
When they were naked and twined on the quilt it suddenly became awkward. "What is it?" she asked quietly. Despite the privacy of the apartment, it seemed imperative to whisper.
He propped himself up on his elbows and she loosened her grip on his hips. “Never done this with a soul before.”
It was so weird to see Spike look bashful. It was also… kinda hot. “You…”
“Hadn’t married. Wasn’t the type to corner a scullery maid or visit Waterloo Road.”
She stroked his hair. “It works the same way. There are a number of helpful books or websites,” she teased.
With a groan he buried his face in her neck and snuffed against her pulse. “Thanks ever so, pet. Know that. Know just how you’re going to feel around me, all hot and tight. Could never forget how it feels to be inside you. But… feels new at the same time.”
Buffy tugged his head up so he could face her. His confession was making her warm all over. “Really not seeing the bad here.” She reached a hand between them and guided him in, watching his face the whole time. The look on his face as he thrust up into her was the same as that first time in his crypt. He stopped breathing for a moment and then gulped for unneeded air.
Then he began to move. Buffy moved with him, ankles crossed over his back. His hands covered hers and spread her arms up over his head. “You remember,” she gasped. “You definitely remember.” His warm laugh was almost as thrilling as the feel of him filling her, stroking in and out. It was hard to stay focused on his face, but she wanted to hold his eyes. Wanted to watch him watching her .
After all they were really both Watchers now.
Hours later they made it under the quilt, spooned together in a way she’d once balked at even considering. “Wanted to verify to my satisfaction that I remembered everything,” he whispered into her shoulder.
Buffy laughed and smacked the arm that was draped over her body. “Well, mission accomplished. And it was, you know, to my satisfaction too, in case you couldn’t tell,” she assured him. Her fingers trailed up and down his arm. “I’m really glad you’re back.” She was tired but her mind was still buzzing. “Will you do something for me?”
“Even vampires have their limits, love.”
If she already decided he was still her Spike that might have clenched it. “Tell me about William. And I want to truth this time. None of this crap about a pickpocket with artistic tendencies either.”
He was so tense by the time he’d finished his story she was almost afraid to move for fear he might crack. “Go on then.”
“Go on what?” The tension seeped out of him. She rolled on to her back and gave him a fond smile. Stupid vampire. She’d managed to compartmentalize the fact that he’d slaughtered thousands, and he was still afraid she’d reject him for being… a sad momma’s boy gentleman who wrote truly terrible poetry? “Spike, can I stay here tonight?”
Apparently Spike wasn’t quite as limited as he’d thought.
Wake Up Calls
Author’s Note: Thanks again to Kar and my readers. This one is not coming along as easily as Borrowed Time, but I have a draft of the next chapter going. Feedback feeds the muse, so please keep it coming.
In our third installment Spike faces some consequences of being all soul-having, Willow faces some consequences for cleaving a guy in twain, and Joyce confers with Giles.
Chapter Three: Wake Up Calls
Spike couldn’t quite believe he’d made it back. He’d sought the missing piece, and oh how very dearly he had paid for it. Very nearly he’d lost an arm, an eye, his mind, her. Buffy’s hair was still damp from the shower she’d taken after their last bought. Her eyes moved as she dreamed. She shifted in her sleep, warm foot sliding against his own. Not for the first time, he reckoned this was what had cost Angel his soul. This having her defenseless in his arms, her utter trust.
Buffy stretched her arms and gave him a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” he asked.
She licked her lips. “Could be better.”
“Let’s work on that then, shall we?” he suggested, diving under the covers.
Buffy gave one loud shout of protest that turned into a moan when his tongue touched against her. He felt the sheet tighten against the back of his head as she fisted the covers. Under the blanket it was warm and dark and getting wetter by the second. Within minutes he felt the sheet loosen and knew her hands were in her hair. He wanted to see her, but he didn’t want to move.
It was all familiar but new at the same time. A strange thrill went through him with he found a rhythm she liked. As though it was a surprise that she liked the feeling of his tongue lapping at her or teasing at her clit. As though he hadn’t done all this before. Maybe it was the bit of William he’d reunited with, the uninitiated boy, flush with the excitement of tasting a woman.
Spike had tasted thousands of women, though not like this. This had been for his dark princess alone, but for a moment or two the bite could feel nearly as intimate. Amazing how similar the reaction was, the gasping and writhing, the calling out to God. The warm rush of honey into his mouth. The trick was knowing how much to take before they died, before they were too weak to cry. Because it wasn’t worth it, if they didn’t cry when you—
“Spike? Spike! What the hell just happened?” He shied away from the warm hands on his shoulders. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”
Her hand clamped around his bicep and he jerked away from her. “Don’t—don’t touch me just now,” he gasped. It was as though he could hear the blood moving in the vessels of her hand. Spike struggled to swim up out of the black. He felt something nubby under his legs and a dull scratching against his back. How had he gotten on the floor, against the wall? “What happened?”
”We were… you know, and then you flipped out and started screaming about how you didn’t want to eat me.” She frowned at him. “And I’m thinking you didn’t mean it in the sense of the act you were in the middle of.”
He let his head fall against his knee. “Had a flashback is all. Gave me a, what do you bloody California girls call it now, a wiggens?”
When next her hand brushed against him he could bear it. “You were thinking about stuff you used to do with women, weren’t you?”
Spike nodded miserably. She was so clean he wasn’t fit to touch her. He wished she’d go. He couldn’t stand it if she left. “Remembering, yeah. You... Slayer, you've no idea what I'm capable of."
“Spike, I'm not stupid. And anyway, that was… before,” she declared, squeezing his hand.
He tilted his head up to look at her stony little face, all firm with her conviction. His naked warrior princess. “Makes it all okay then, does it?”
Her eyes darted around a bit. “It’s something you don’t do anymore, Spike. It makes it something you don’t even want to do anymore.” She rested her gaze on him again. “But then, that was true before you even got the soul, wasn’t it? That’s why you did it?” Her grip on his fingers hurt. She didn’t wait for an answer. “That’s why I fell in love with you, Spike. I do know what you're capable of, but I also knew you were capable of change. You faced the monster inside of you and you fought back. You risked everything to be a better man.”
Despite the soaring sensation in his head, he smirked at her. “Yeah, well, striking me as not one of my better decisions at the moment, pet.”
She gave him a wry smile and pulled him to his feet. Spike let Buffy drag him back to the bed. “I really can’t even imagine what this is like for you. It’s this huge adjustment, and I want you to know that I get that.” She started gathering her things up off the floor. “And if you need some space while you—”
“Bugger that,” he muttered, grabbing at her elbow. She tumbled back over his legs and glared at him. “The hell are you doing?”
“You… you just said you didn’t want me touching you.”
“Needed a moment is all.” He pulled the sheets up around them and a sudden thought struck him. “Shall I finish you up, love? Didn’t mean to get you all worked up and then—”
Buffy laughed and stopped his hand's journey down her body. “I think the mood is officially slain, Spike. But maybe after a nap I can remind you what it is you do with women now or at least with this woman. If there are others, I might have to stake you.”
He laughed into her throat, settling in so he could feel the enticing, reassuring beat of her pulse. She glossed over his apologies and ordered him to sleep. Just before she drifted off, she murmured, “I believe in you, Spike. You can do this.”
-------------
Willow wasn't prepared to see her, not yet. The campus bookstore was a necessary errand for all students though, so she probably shouldn't have been surprised. She almost considered ducking into the next aisle, but if she got caught hiding, it would be even more awkward. Assuming it could get more awkward.
"Hi." She quirked her eyebrows and gave a little wave.
"Hi," Tara repeated back quietly. "So you're back."
"Yep. I, uh, I didn't know whether I should call you or..."
"I knew you were coming home. I'm still... I'm still a member of the gang."
"Oh!" Willow tried to hide her surprise. "You weren't at the meeting last night, so--"
"I had other plans."
Willow felt a nasty feeling curl in her gut. Plans with somebody who never cut anyone in half, probably. "Plans are good. Hurray for plans."
Tara sighed. "I know this is uncomfortable, okay. I just... I saw you and I thought I should say hello."
"Well, that is the polite thing to do," Willow replied with a tight voice.
"Willow." There was such a sad note in Tara's voice. "I don't know what you expect from me."
Support, sympathy, something other than outright rejection?
Tara kept talking. "But I can't be with someone who--"
"I get it," Willow enunciated slowly. "Breaking up with me the day after Xander's funeral really drove the point home, Tara."
"You were leaving the country," Tara protested, which Willow had to grant was true. Still, when they’d met for a cup of coffee a few hours before she had to leave for the airport, she’d expected something a little less final than Tara’s resolute and thorough dumping.
"You know what? I don't expect anything from you, Tara. So you can stop worrying about it, okay. I'll see you at the meetings and I promise I'll make nice. If we're going to keep working together, I can be a grown-up about it."
If she didn’t go, she was going to make a complete ass of herself. Willow shoved her stack of books into a random shelf and resolved to buy them online, where they'd be cheaper anyway. She needed to get out of there. Refusing to respond to Tara's "Willow, wait" she thundered out of the store and then her day got even better.
"What's up, Hermione?"
Willow glared at the other woman. "What are you doing here?"
Faith shrugged and stamped out the butt of her cigarette. "Trolling for frat boys. Long incarceration."
She considered the other woman for a moment, still every bit the cleavagy slut-bomb. Lush hair, plush mouth, curvy--and she was so not thinking about Faith like that.
"They probably won’t be awake for another hour or two. And classes haven’t started yet.” Willow took a deep breath. “I'm getting a drink. You want a drink?"
Faith started to light another smoke. "Not a big coffee fan."
"I was thinking something stronger, but suit yourself."
Faith raised an eyebrow. "You buying?"
"Sure, whatever. Let's just go, okay?" She started walking.
The slayer fell in beside her. "Man, Hagatha, what's up your skirt?"
No one Willow brooded silently.
-------------
"Is this going to be a sex dream?"
Buffy tried to blink away her blurred vision. Spike was still curled up at her back, but sitting on the chair in the corner was Xander.
"Huh?" she managed.
"Because, don't take this the wrong way, but the thought of this particular threesome isn't exactly giving me tingles."
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Could you turn around while I get a robe or something?" Even in a dream she didn't want Xander to see her naked.
She stepped toward the closet, but she didn’t want to open that door. With a sigh Xander turned away and then there was suddenly a silk kimono in his hand. She grabbed it and wrapped it around herself quickly. There were spatters of blood from where it had brushed against his chest..
"Sorry about that," he said with a grimace.
"That's okay," she told him. "I usually end up covered in blood when this happens."
Spike turned on the bed and there were deep gashes in his chest. "He tried to cut it out," Buffy explained.
"It burns," Spike moaned.
"Aren't you going to put that out?" Xander asked. "You were going to be a fireman."
"I'm going to be a general instead," Buffy replied. "Or possibly a sergeant. Just as long as they give me a whistle."
"Is that how you'll call them?"
Buffy sank to the floor. "I don't know how to call them."
Something growled from inside the closet and the door began to shake in its frame.
"Maybe they call you. Either way, Buff, someone knows the right song."
"Somebody heard me," she deduced.
"Maybe you should think about that."
-------------
Joyce poured the coffee and filtered out the sound of the television in the living room. It was fortunate for any number or reasons that Dawn and Amanda were getting along, considering that spending time with her new friend was the cover story the girl was using until she could bring herself to tell her parents.
Having been the parent in this situation before, Joyce sincerely hoped the girl would reach that point soon. It helped that Dawn agreed; she had overheard her sensitive daughter explaining that the reaction would just be worse the more she hid from them. Buffy, however, felt that it was up to Amanda, and Joyce realized this was just one on an increasingly long list of topics on which she and older daughter were going to have to agree to disagree.
"They seem quite friendly," Rupert voiced her inner musing.
She passed him a cup. "I think Dawn was a little disappointed at first, but now she seems happy just to be helping."
Rupert stirred his coffee. "And your reaction, when Dawn turned out not to be a slayer?"
"Intense relief, as you may have guessed." She listened to the faint murmur of the laugh track. "When Buffy explained it all to me years ago, she left out some details." She leveled her gaze at him. "So did you for that matter."
Giles nodded. "I understand if you're cross about that, but Buffy begged me not to be overly forthcoming."
Joyce sighed. "I know I should be grateful about the lack of danger and her freedom from sacred burden, but my first thought was that maybe I would have grandchildren some day." She shook her head. "Isn't that awful?"
"I don't think so, no," Giles assured her. “How is Faith?”
Joyce waved her hand in a so-so gesture. “Some days are better than others. I think everyone’s glad the Council salary will let her get her own place. Especially with Buffy going to college, it would be a little strange having her here. They’re getting along though. Or,” she amended wryly, “if they’re making death threats, they’re not doing it in front of me.”
Giles chuckled and nodded at her. “They seem remarkably united.”
“You know, last spring those boys made Buffy think she’d accidentally killed a girl. I think it gave her more insight than she wanted on what it was like to be Faith.”
“Buffy has become rather understanding, hasn’t she?” he noted archly.
Joyce knew he was referring to Spike, but that wasn’t a topic she was up to addressing at the moment. At least not directly. She gave him a long look. “Buffy says you told her once that forgiving is something we do because people need it, not because they deserve it.” Very briefly, she placed her hand over his. “I forget sometimes how smart you are.”
Rupert blinked at her in that flustered, confused way of his. "Thank you again for lunch, Joyce."
"It was my pleasure," she replied, relieved that he let that lie. "How did breakfast with Anya go?"
"The shop is doing quite well. And, I believe she is interested in the Council's offer."
Joyce was going to tell him how glad she was, how she hoped it would give Anya purpose. The poor woman needed something to hold onto. Without Xander to anchor her, it seemed like she might very well shrivel up and float away. She wanted to impart some small part of that to Giles. Only Buffy burst in through the back door just then with her hair in a tangle and an angry mouth.
"I want to talk to Travers. Now."
------------
I didn’t get to Anya this chapter, but I’m already working on a draft of her POV for the next chapter.
In our third installment Spike faces some consequences of being all soul-having, Willow faces some consequences for cleaving a guy in twain, and Joyce confers with Giles.
Chapter Three: Wake Up Calls
Spike couldn’t quite believe he’d made it back. He’d sought the missing piece, and oh how very dearly he had paid for it. Very nearly he’d lost an arm, an eye, his mind, her. Buffy’s hair was still damp from the shower she’d taken after their last bought. Her eyes moved as she dreamed. She shifted in her sleep, warm foot sliding against his own. Not for the first time, he reckoned this was what had cost Angel his soul. This having her defenseless in his arms, her utter trust.
Buffy stretched her arms and gave him a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”
“Is it?” he asked.
She licked her lips. “Could be better.”
“Let’s work on that then, shall we?” he suggested, diving under the covers.
Buffy gave one loud shout of protest that turned into a moan when his tongue touched against her. He felt the sheet tighten against the back of his head as she fisted the covers. Under the blanket it was warm and dark and getting wetter by the second. Within minutes he felt the sheet loosen and knew her hands were in her hair. He wanted to see her, but he didn’t want to move.
It was all familiar but new at the same time. A strange thrill went through him with he found a rhythm she liked. As though it was a surprise that she liked the feeling of his tongue lapping at her or teasing at her clit. As though he hadn’t done all this before. Maybe it was the bit of William he’d reunited with, the uninitiated boy, flush with the excitement of tasting a woman.
Spike had tasted thousands of women, though not like this. This had been for his dark princess alone, but for a moment or two the bite could feel nearly as intimate. Amazing how similar the reaction was, the gasping and writhing, the calling out to God. The warm rush of honey into his mouth. The trick was knowing how much to take before they died, before they were too weak to cry. Because it wasn’t worth it, if they didn’t cry when you—
“Spike? Spike! What the hell just happened?” He shied away from the warm hands on his shoulders. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”
Her hand clamped around his bicep and he jerked away from her. “Don’t—don’t touch me just now,” he gasped. It was as though he could hear the blood moving in the vessels of her hand. Spike struggled to swim up out of the black. He felt something nubby under his legs and a dull scratching against his back. How had he gotten on the floor, against the wall? “What happened?”
”We were… you know, and then you flipped out and started screaming about how you didn’t want to eat me.” She frowned at him. “And I’m thinking you didn’t mean it in the sense of the act you were in the middle of.”
He let his head fall against his knee. “Had a flashback is all. Gave me a, what do you bloody California girls call it now, a wiggens?”
When next her hand brushed against him he could bear it. “You were thinking about stuff you used to do with women, weren’t you?”
Spike nodded miserably. She was so clean he wasn’t fit to touch her. He wished she’d go. He couldn’t stand it if she left. “Remembering, yeah. You... Slayer, you've no idea what I'm capable of."
“Spike, I'm not stupid. And anyway, that was… before,” she declared, squeezing his hand.
He tilted his head up to look at her stony little face, all firm with her conviction. His naked warrior princess. “Makes it all okay then, does it?”
Her eyes darted around a bit. “It’s something you don’t do anymore, Spike. It makes it something you don’t even want to do anymore.” She rested her gaze on him again. “But then, that was true before you even got the soul, wasn’t it? That’s why you did it?” Her grip on his fingers hurt. She didn’t wait for an answer. “That’s why I fell in love with you, Spike. I do know what you're capable of, but I also knew you were capable of change. You faced the monster inside of you and you fought back. You risked everything to be a better man.”
Despite the soaring sensation in his head, he smirked at her. “Yeah, well, striking me as not one of my better decisions at the moment, pet.”
She gave him a wry smile and pulled him to his feet. Spike let Buffy drag him back to the bed. “I really can’t even imagine what this is like for you. It’s this huge adjustment, and I want you to know that I get that.” She started gathering her things up off the floor. “And if you need some space while you—”
“Bugger that,” he muttered, grabbing at her elbow. She tumbled back over his legs and glared at him. “The hell are you doing?”
“You… you just said you didn’t want me touching you.”
“Needed a moment is all.” He pulled the sheets up around them and a sudden thought struck him. “Shall I finish you up, love? Didn’t mean to get you all worked up and then—”
Buffy laughed and stopped his hand's journey down her body. “I think the mood is officially slain, Spike. But maybe after a nap I can remind you what it is you do with women now or at least with this woman. If there are others, I might have to stake you.”
He laughed into her throat, settling in so he could feel the enticing, reassuring beat of her pulse. She glossed over his apologies and ordered him to sleep. Just before she drifted off, she murmured, “I believe in you, Spike. You can do this.”
-------------
Willow wasn't prepared to see her, not yet. The campus bookstore was a necessary errand for all students though, so she probably shouldn't have been surprised. She almost considered ducking into the next aisle, but if she got caught hiding, it would be even more awkward. Assuming it could get more awkward.
"Hi." She quirked her eyebrows and gave a little wave.
"Hi," Tara repeated back quietly. "So you're back."
"Yep. I, uh, I didn't know whether I should call you or..."
"I knew you were coming home. I'm still... I'm still a member of the gang."
"Oh!" Willow tried to hide her surprise. "You weren't at the meeting last night, so--"
"I had other plans."
Willow felt a nasty feeling curl in her gut. Plans with somebody who never cut anyone in half, probably. "Plans are good. Hurray for plans."
Tara sighed. "I know this is uncomfortable, okay. I just... I saw you and I thought I should say hello."
"Well, that is the polite thing to do," Willow replied with a tight voice.
"Willow." There was such a sad note in Tara's voice. "I don't know what you expect from me."
Support, sympathy, something other than outright rejection?
Tara kept talking. "But I can't be with someone who--"
"I get it," Willow enunciated slowly. "Breaking up with me the day after Xander's funeral really drove the point home, Tara."
"You were leaving the country," Tara protested, which Willow had to grant was true. Still, when they’d met for a cup of coffee a few hours before she had to leave for the airport, she’d expected something a little less final than Tara’s resolute and thorough dumping.
"You know what? I don't expect anything from you, Tara. So you can stop worrying about it, okay. I'll see you at the meetings and I promise I'll make nice. If we're going to keep working together, I can be a grown-up about it."
If she didn’t go, she was going to make a complete ass of herself. Willow shoved her stack of books into a random shelf and resolved to buy them online, where they'd be cheaper anyway. She needed to get out of there. Refusing to respond to Tara's "Willow, wait" she thundered out of the store and then her day got even better.
"What's up, Hermione?"
Willow glared at the other woman. "What are you doing here?"
Faith shrugged and stamped out the butt of her cigarette. "Trolling for frat boys. Long incarceration."
She considered the other woman for a moment, still every bit the cleavagy slut-bomb. Lush hair, plush mouth, curvy--and she was so not thinking about Faith like that.
"They probably won’t be awake for another hour or two. And classes haven’t started yet.” Willow took a deep breath. “I'm getting a drink. You want a drink?"
Faith started to light another smoke. "Not a big coffee fan."
"I was thinking something stronger, but suit yourself."
Faith raised an eyebrow. "You buying?"
"Sure, whatever. Let's just go, okay?" She started walking.
The slayer fell in beside her. "Man, Hagatha, what's up your skirt?"
No one Willow brooded silently.
-------------
"Is this going to be a sex dream?"
Buffy tried to blink away her blurred vision. Spike was still curled up at her back, but sitting on the chair in the corner was Xander.
"Huh?" she managed.
"Because, don't take this the wrong way, but the thought of this particular threesome isn't exactly giving me tingles."
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Could you turn around while I get a robe or something?" Even in a dream she didn't want Xander to see her naked.
She stepped toward the closet, but she didn’t want to open that door. With a sigh Xander turned away and then there was suddenly a silk kimono in his hand. She grabbed it and wrapped it around herself quickly. There were spatters of blood from where it had brushed against his chest..
"Sorry about that," he said with a grimace.
"That's okay," she told him. "I usually end up covered in blood when this happens."
Spike turned on the bed and there were deep gashes in his chest. "He tried to cut it out," Buffy explained.
"It burns," Spike moaned.
"Aren't you going to put that out?" Xander asked. "You were going to be a fireman."
"I'm going to be a general instead," Buffy replied. "Or possibly a sergeant. Just as long as they give me a whistle."
"Is that how you'll call them?"
Buffy sank to the floor. "I don't know how to call them."
Something growled from inside the closet and the door began to shake in its frame.
"Maybe they call you. Either way, Buff, someone knows the right song."
"Somebody heard me," she deduced.
"Maybe you should think about that."
-------------
Joyce poured the coffee and filtered out the sound of the television in the living room. It was fortunate for any number or reasons that Dawn and Amanda were getting along, considering that spending time with her new friend was the cover story the girl was using until she could bring herself to tell her parents.
Having been the parent in this situation before, Joyce sincerely hoped the girl would reach that point soon. It helped that Dawn agreed; she had overheard her sensitive daughter explaining that the reaction would just be worse the more she hid from them. Buffy, however, felt that it was up to Amanda, and Joyce realized this was just one on an increasingly long list of topics on which she and older daughter were going to have to agree to disagree.
"They seem quite friendly," Rupert voiced her inner musing.
She passed him a cup. "I think Dawn was a little disappointed at first, but now she seems happy just to be helping."
Rupert stirred his coffee. "And your reaction, when Dawn turned out not to be a slayer?"
"Intense relief, as you may have guessed." She listened to the faint murmur of the laugh track. "When Buffy explained it all to me years ago, she left out some details." She leveled her gaze at him. "So did you for that matter."
Giles nodded. "I understand if you're cross about that, but Buffy begged me not to be overly forthcoming."
Joyce sighed. "I know I should be grateful about the lack of danger and her freedom from sacred burden, but my first thought was that maybe I would have grandchildren some day." She shook her head. "Isn't that awful?"
"I don't think so, no," Giles assured her. “How is Faith?”
Joyce waved her hand in a so-so gesture. “Some days are better than others. I think everyone’s glad the Council salary will let her get her own place. Especially with Buffy going to college, it would be a little strange having her here. They’re getting along though. Or,” she amended wryly, “if they’re making death threats, they’re not doing it in front of me.”
Giles chuckled and nodded at her. “They seem remarkably united.”
“You know, last spring those boys made Buffy think she’d accidentally killed a girl. I think it gave her more insight than she wanted on what it was like to be Faith.”
“Buffy has become rather understanding, hasn’t she?” he noted archly.
Joyce knew he was referring to Spike, but that wasn’t a topic she was up to addressing at the moment. At least not directly. She gave him a long look. “Buffy says you told her once that forgiving is something we do because people need it, not because they deserve it.” Very briefly, she placed her hand over his. “I forget sometimes how smart you are.”
Rupert blinked at her in that flustered, confused way of his. "Thank you again for lunch, Joyce."
"It was my pleasure," she replied, relieved that he let that lie. "How did breakfast with Anya go?"
"The shop is doing quite well. And, I believe she is interested in the Council's offer."
Joyce was going to tell him how glad she was, how she hoped it would give Anya purpose. The poor woman needed something to hold onto. Without Xander to anchor her, it seemed like she might very well shrivel up and float away. She wanted to impart some small part of that to Giles. Only Buffy burst in through the back door just then with her hair in a tangle and an angry mouth.
"I want to talk to Travers. Now."
------------
I didn’t get to Anya this chapter, but I’m already working on a draft of her POV for the next chapter.
Change of Scenery
Author’s Note: Thanks as always to Kar and my readers. This is a short one, as the next will be as well. I’m setting the stage for the action to come. Please feed the muse!
In our fourth installment Anya considers her future, Buffy announces her next move, and Dawn sees something interesting.
Chapter Four: Change of Scenery
Anya dusted the jars of herbs. The shop was closed for the evening, and it was comfortable in the low-lit quiet. Dawn worked alongside her, in the rhythm they'd established over the summer months. Traveling the country and dealing with temperamental teenagers was going to be quite the change. Maybe a change was what she needed.
If only the Council would spring for some sort of teleportation charm. It really was the only efficient way to travel. At least they were paying for the flights and rental cars, not to mention a generous per diem, so she would keep her griping to a minimum.
Besides, things were in such an uproar with Quinten Travers having alienated half the Council. The Council Head had sent out his cronies to 'extract' the youngest new slayers and place them in training with his various pets. To cover his ass, he was trying to use exclusive knowledge of how to find the new slayers as a bargaining chip, since many on the Council were ready to oust him.
What it seemed to come down to was the Travers though older girls were too intractable to bother with, while Giles was concerned that their ignorance could get them into a great deal of trouble. So the Scoobies would just have to come up with some other way to track them down on their own.
And Anya would provide slayer orientation. It was only a matter of time, after all. So many Watchers with occult training and a staff full of seers and witches. Eventually someone would either discover Quentin's secret or fathom some new way to track the older girls down.
"Are you excited?" Dawn asked, drawing Anya out of her private musings.
Anya hadn't considered that. "I suppose. I traveled the world for millennia, you know. It's only these past few years that I've been settled."
"Did you ever... think about going back?" Dawn asked carefully.
"Yes," Anya answered Dawn’s half-question honestly. Standing in the city morgue, identifying Xander's remains, she had most certainly thought about going back to her old job. Thought about ripping Warren apart, but he was already dead. Thought about taking out his stupid sidekicks, but they hadn't really been there. Thought about tormenting Buffy, who could have staved the entire incident off if only she'd accepted Hallie's offer of vengeance on Warren, although she knew that wasn’t entirely fair.
She had also thought about where Xander might have gone, and how she wanted to be with him again some day. Anya wasn't sure how such things worked, but she doubted a vengeance demon was going to get to the same place.
"Can I ask you another awkward question?" Dawn asked.
"Of course. Those usually get the most interesting answers."
Dawn laughed. "What did you do before D'Hoffryn?"
"A lot of beadwork. I was Aud."
"I believe you," Dawn said. After a few more moments of easy silence and cleaning, she asked, “Are you hungry?”
Anya shook her head and went back to organizing supplier receipts. Everything had to be just so before she left. The contingent assigned to Sunnydale—who were nearly as pissed off as Giles at getting jerked around—were going to use the shop as cover. If she had to leave town and go slayer-hunting, Anya wanted it to be as easy as possible for them to take up the reins.
“Anya, you need to eat.”
“I’m fine, Dawnie.”
“You are not fine. You’re verging on heroin chic.”
Anya glared at her. She knew she should eat. The doctor kept saying so. But the idea of it was so unappealing. “You’re not exactly buxom yourself, missy.”
Dawn drew herself up. “Hey. I grew, like, six inches in the last three months, and I am working on it. So come have some pizza with me, Anya.”
“Okay,” Anya gave in. “But you have to promise me something. When I leave, will you keep working here after school and keep an eye on things for me.”
Dawn beamed at her. “Of course.”
----------
Joyce gawked at her daughter and tried to formulate some sort of reasoned, logical response. Instead what came out was, "You're doing what?"
"It will save us the money we were going to pay for a dorm room. See, I'm being all thrifty," she replied brightly.
"I think your mother is more concerned that you'll be living with a dead man," Anya chimed in, using that disarmingly straightforward tone she had. "This stew is delicious, Tara."
"It's good to see you eating," Tara replied quietly.
Joyce shook her head. "When are you moving?"
Buffy shrugged. "Whenever I get my stuff all packed. Some time before classes start. So some time this week, I guess."
"Buffy, this seems so...." sudden? unexpected? suicidal?
"Mom, I know, it's a big."
"It's probably part of his reemerging Victorian ethos," Anya posited. "This is the closest he can get to making an honest woman out of you."
Buffy's mouth fell open as she visibly tried to come up with a response to that. From the corner of her eye Joyce saw Dawn struggling not to laugh at her sister.
"Just make sure he adds you to the lease," Anya added.
"That's... very practical advice," Joyce agreed and then Tara mercifully changed the subject.
Joyce was well aware that Buffy had broached the topic over Sunday dinner to avoid an argument, but she was far from finished with discussing it. Then again, she mused, there probably wasn't much point. Buffy would do what she wanted.
They did the dishes together while the others relaxed in the living room. "It's going to be fine, Mom."
"Hmm," Joyce refused to comment.
"Would you please just say whatever it is you want to say?" Buffy huffed.
"Buffy, I don't know that I would be happy about you moving in with anyone, but Spike? What happens when you two have an argument?"
Buffy shrugged. "We argue all the time. One of us goes and stomps around for awhile until we cool off." Buffy smiled. "We always make it back eventually."
"What if it goes beyond an argument, Buffy?" Joyce asked carefully.
Her daughter shook her head, and her answer made Joyce feel a wave of vertigo. "It's been years since he the last time he tried to kill me." Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, "And in some ways, it's like we're literally not the same people we were then."
Joyce managed to quell the fluttering in her stomach and turned off the taps. She dried her hands and leaned against the sink for support. "Well then," she decided aloud, "I guess he'll be coming with you to Sunday dinner next week."
------
Dawn settled on a mat next to Amanda and closed her eyes. She tried to center herself as Giles was instructing, but her thoughts were scattered. Anya, taking care of the shop, the new Watchers getting in tomorrow, Buffy moving in with Spike.
"What are we supposed to do again?" Amanda asked, sounding as frustrated as Dawn felt.
"I bet Buffy sucks at this," Dawn muttered.
"It is not your sister's favorite part of training, no," Giles acknowledged. "Let's try again, shall we?" Giles cleaned his glasses and perched them back on his nose. "Take a cleansing breath as you observe the crystal. Good, now close your eyes. Clear your mind of distractions and concentrate on turning the crystal."
Dawn felt her forehead wrinkling as she pictured the quartz in her mind, trying to will it to turn colors. This is so pointless, she thought after a few minutes. Giving up, she opened her eyes.
Eyes that were totally not her own looked back at her from a mirror. The girl in the mirror had dirty blond hair and serious boobs that were straining her faded jersey. Hands went up to her face, poking experimentally at the skin around her eye.
"Huh," the girl said.
Dawn tried to say something, but the girl in the mirror just kept rubbing her face.
"Connie Ray, get your ass moving! Your ride's here!"
"Bye, mama!" the girl screamed back. She grabbed a mitt and banged out the front door into an old yacht of a car.
"Hey, Douglas, talk at Sonic was your daddy got laid out," said the driver.
"Let's just go, Trish. If I’m late again, coach won’t let me play this weekend."
“Way you been hitting lately, you could miss all week and he’s still let you play. You on something?”
“I look stupid?”
Dawn was beginning to feel queasy. What the hell was happening to her? It smelled like exhaust in the car. They drove past a Franklin County Credit Union and a Mandeville Coffee Shop. Was this stuff important? Was this a vision? She tried to say the words she was reading aloud, but her voice seemed to get stuck.
"Connie, um, when you called me, you said..."
"I know. By the time the ambulance came for Daddy, all gone."
"Shit, girl. What happened to you?"
"I have no fucking clue."
Dawn let out a thick, wheezing breath as she slammed back against the floor of the training room.
"Dawn! Dawn!" Giles's voice slowly penetrated her brain.
"Hey," she managed.
"What just happened?" Amanda asked.
"What did it look like?" Dawn asked. She winced as Giles poked at her to see if she was injured. Her head was pounding and her eyes stung.
"The crystal turned green, and you began shouting." Giles patted her arm. "I'll get you something. Your shoulder is certain to bruise."
Dawn rubbed it gingerly and unfortunately had to agree. "I think maybe I know what happened, guys." Dawn felt a smile creeping across her face. "I think I just found a slayer."
In our fourth installment Anya considers her future, Buffy announces her next move, and Dawn sees something interesting.
Chapter Four: Change of Scenery
Anya dusted the jars of herbs. The shop was closed for the evening, and it was comfortable in the low-lit quiet. Dawn worked alongside her, in the rhythm they'd established over the summer months. Traveling the country and dealing with temperamental teenagers was going to be quite the change. Maybe a change was what she needed.
If only the Council would spring for some sort of teleportation charm. It really was the only efficient way to travel. At least they were paying for the flights and rental cars, not to mention a generous per diem, so she would keep her griping to a minimum.
Besides, things were in such an uproar with Quinten Travers having alienated half the Council. The Council Head had sent out his cronies to 'extract' the youngest new slayers and place them in training with his various pets. To cover his ass, he was trying to use exclusive knowledge of how to find the new slayers as a bargaining chip, since many on the Council were ready to oust him.
What it seemed to come down to was the Travers though older girls were too intractable to bother with, while Giles was concerned that their ignorance could get them into a great deal of trouble. So the Scoobies would just have to come up with some other way to track them down on their own.
And Anya would provide slayer orientation. It was only a matter of time, after all. So many Watchers with occult training and a staff full of seers and witches. Eventually someone would either discover Quentin's secret or fathom some new way to track the older girls down.
"Are you excited?" Dawn asked, drawing Anya out of her private musings.
Anya hadn't considered that. "I suppose. I traveled the world for millennia, you know. It's only these past few years that I've been settled."
"Did you ever... think about going back?" Dawn asked carefully.
"Yes," Anya answered Dawn’s half-question honestly. Standing in the city morgue, identifying Xander's remains, she had most certainly thought about going back to her old job. Thought about ripping Warren apart, but he was already dead. Thought about taking out his stupid sidekicks, but they hadn't really been there. Thought about tormenting Buffy, who could have staved the entire incident off if only she'd accepted Hallie's offer of vengeance on Warren, although she knew that wasn’t entirely fair.
She had also thought about where Xander might have gone, and how she wanted to be with him again some day. Anya wasn't sure how such things worked, but she doubted a vengeance demon was going to get to the same place.
"Can I ask you another awkward question?" Dawn asked.
"Of course. Those usually get the most interesting answers."
Dawn laughed. "What did you do before D'Hoffryn?"
"A lot of beadwork. I was Aud."
"I believe you," Dawn said. After a few more moments of easy silence and cleaning, she asked, “Are you hungry?”
Anya shook her head and went back to organizing supplier receipts. Everything had to be just so before she left. The contingent assigned to Sunnydale—who were nearly as pissed off as Giles at getting jerked around—were going to use the shop as cover. If she had to leave town and go slayer-hunting, Anya wanted it to be as easy as possible for them to take up the reins.
“Anya, you need to eat.”
“I’m fine, Dawnie.”
“You are not fine. You’re verging on heroin chic.”
Anya glared at her. She knew she should eat. The doctor kept saying so. But the idea of it was so unappealing. “You’re not exactly buxom yourself, missy.”
Dawn drew herself up. “Hey. I grew, like, six inches in the last three months, and I am working on it. So come have some pizza with me, Anya.”
“Okay,” Anya gave in. “But you have to promise me something. When I leave, will you keep working here after school and keep an eye on things for me.”
Dawn beamed at her. “Of course.”
----------
Joyce gawked at her daughter and tried to formulate some sort of reasoned, logical response. Instead what came out was, "You're doing what?"
"It will save us the money we were going to pay for a dorm room. See, I'm being all thrifty," she replied brightly.
"I think your mother is more concerned that you'll be living with a dead man," Anya chimed in, using that disarmingly straightforward tone she had. "This stew is delicious, Tara."
"It's good to see you eating," Tara replied quietly.
Joyce shook her head. "When are you moving?"
Buffy shrugged. "Whenever I get my stuff all packed. Some time before classes start. So some time this week, I guess."
"Buffy, this seems so...." sudden? unexpected? suicidal?
"Mom, I know, it's a big."
"It's probably part of his reemerging Victorian ethos," Anya posited. "This is the closest he can get to making an honest woman out of you."
Buffy's mouth fell open as she visibly tried to come up with a response to that. From the corner of her eye Joyce saw Dawn struggling not to laugh at her sister.
"Just make sure he adds you to the lease," Anya added.
"That's... very practical advice," Joyce agreed and then Tara mercifully changed the subject.
Joyce was well aware that Buffy had broached the topic over Sunday dinner to avoid an argument, but she was far from finished with discussing it. Then again, she mused, there probably wasn't much point. Buffy would do what she wanted.
They did the dishes together while the others relaxed in the living room. "It's going to be fine, Mom."
"Hmm," Joyce refused to comment.
"Would you please just say whatever it is you want to say?" Buffy huffed.
"Buffy, I don't know that I would be happy about you moving in with anyone, but Spike? What happens when you two have an argument?"
Buffy shrugged. "We argue all the time. One of us goes and stomps around for awhile until we cool off." Buffy smiled. "We always make it back eventually."
"What if it goes beyond an argument, Buffy?" Joyce asked carefully.
Her daughter shook her head, and her answer made Joyce feel a wave of vertigo. "It's been years since he the last time he tried to kill me." Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, "And in some ways, it's like we're literally not the same people we were then."
Joyce managed to quell the fluttering in her stomach and turned off the taps. She dried her hands and leaned against the sink for support. "Well then," she decided aloud, "I guess he'll be coming with you to Sunday dinner next week."
------
Dawn settled on a mat next to Amanda and closed her eyes. She tried to center herself as Giles was instructing, but her thoughts were scattered. Anya, taking care of the shop, the new Watchers getting in tomorrow, Buffy moving in with Spike.
"What are we supposed to do again?" Amanda asked, sounding as frustrated as Dawn felt.
"I bet Buffy sucks at this," Dawn muttered.
"It is not your sister's favorite part of training, no," Giles acknowledged. "Let's try again, shall we?" Giles cleaned his glasses and perched them back on his nose. "Take a cleansing breath as you observe the crystal. Good, now close your eyes. Clear your mind of distractions and concentrate on turning the crystal."
Dawn felt her forehead wrinkling as she pictured the quartz in her mind, trying to will it to turn colors. This is so pointless, she thought after a few minutes. Giving up, she opened her eyes.
Eyes that were totally not her own looked back at her from a mirror. The girl in the mirror had dirty blond hair and serious boobs that were straining her faded jersey. Hands went up to her face, poking experimentally at the skin around her eye.
"Huh," the girl said.
Dawn tried to say something, but the girl in the mirror just kept rubbing her face.
"Connie Ray, get your ass moving! Your ride's here!"
"Bye, mama!" the girl screamed back. She grabbed a mitt and banged out the front door into an old yacht of a car.
"Hey, Douglas, talk at Sonic was your daddy got laid out," said the driver.
"Let's just go, Trish. If I’m late again, coach won’t let me play this weekend."
“Way you been hitting lately, you could miss all week and he’s still let you play. You on something?”
“I look stupid?”
Dawn was beginning to feel queasy. What the hell was happening to her? It smelled like exhaust in the car. They drove past a Franklin County Credit Union and a Mandeville Coffee Shop. Was this stuff important? Was this a vision? She tried to say the words she was reading aloud, but her voice seemed to get stuck.
"Connie, um, when you called me, you said..."
"I know. By the time the ambulance came for Daddy, all gone."
"Shit, girl. What happened to you?"
"I have no fucking clue."
Dawn let out a thick, wheezing breath as she slammed back against the floor of the training room.
"Dawn! Dawn!" Giles's voice slowly penetrated her brain.
"Hey," she managed.
"What just happened?" Amanda asked.
"What did it look like?" Dawn asked. She winced as Giles poked at her to see if she was injured. Her head was pounding and her eyes stung.
"The crystal turned green, and you began shouting." Giles patted her arm. "I'll get you something. Your shoulder is certain to bruise."
Dawn rubbed it gingerly and unfortunately had to agree. "I think maybe I know what happened, guys." Dawn felt a smile creeping across her face. "I think I just found a slayer."
Lessons
Author’s Note: Thanks to the fabulous Kar and to all my readers and reviewers. Special thanks to blondiebear for bringing my attention to the lack of Buffy-Giles interaction. I really do appreciate the feedback, folks, even if it’s just a short note.
In our fifth installment Buffy considers the upside to having Spike as a roommate, Faith does some thinking, Anya checks in, and there is Buffy-Giles interaction.
Chapter Five: Lessons
"Okay... j'aille, tu ailles, il aille, nous allions, vous alliez... Spike, move your hand. ils aillent." Buffy gasped. "Not what I meant," she informed him. She gripped his wrist where it had snuck up underneath her skirt, but she really wasn't all that motivated to stop him and somehow she ended up encouraging him instead. So much better than conjugating the subjunctive.
"That's it, pet, show me how."
"Spike," she tried, but her protest came out as a moan instead. "I have to learn this."
"Keep reciting, Slayer," he instructed.
Kinky bastard. He was getting off on the whole naughty student thing. Which was bad… and well, then, maybe so was she. She kept going. "Je fasse, tu fasses, il fasse, nous fassions... I can't."
"Yes you can, girl. vous fassiez, elles fassent"
Right. Because having Spike growl French in her ear was really helping her concentrate on homework. She gave up and leaned back against his chest, her hand still guiding his. She'd had far too much time to figure out what sort of rhythm worked for her in the months he'd been gone.
But of course Spike added a twist or two of his own. Her head rolled against his shoulder as she arched against the bolt of sensation thrumming through her.
When she could control her breathing again, she scolded him. "William, you're being very distracting."
"Goodie," he rumbled, nibbling at her neck.
She thwapped his knee. "You have to let me study, or I’m going to have to start spending all my time at the library." She really didn't want to. The apartment had so much more going for it. Sunken bathtub, satin sheets, privacy, unlimited Spike access...
They were supposed to be meeting Giles and the girls for training after sunset. She wasn’t sure they were going to make it, with the mood he was in. Really, Buffy wanted to impress the new girls. There were three now: Amanda, Connie, and Octavia. And, she wanted them to think of her as a good mentor, not a flighty vamp ho. But with Spike’s hands all over her, it was hard to keep that goal in mind. Also, passing her classes was probably a good plan.
He did that thing again, where he sorta bobbed around her. It still made her a little uneasy, the whole I'm scenting you thing, which was just a pretty way of saying he liked the smell of her after an orgasm. "Can't help myself, pet. When you get all prim schoolgirl, just makes me want to sup at your tasty quim."
"My..." Jesus. This was life with souled Spike. Occasional night terrors, fewer comments about how he wanted to rip people's spines out and sometimes really bizarro purple phrases like that. "Sup at my tasty quim?" She twisted around to look at him. "Makes me sound like one of those drive-thru places people go to for a root beer float."
Another change was that she could now sometimes cause a little shadow of shy embarrassment to cross his face. But then it was the familiar leer, eyebrows quirked, tongue thrust against his teeth. "You get any ideas about opening for business, might have to tie you to this bed and remind you you're mine alone."
Her homework was so not getting done. She squirmed a little and licked her lips before managing a husky, "Okay."
---------------------
Spike was leaning against a headstone lighting up when Faith strolled in on the training session. She was really only a little late, and she hoped her sister slayer would spare her the lecture this time. Buffy was standing near the girls, shouting encouragement and instructions while Octavia and Connie double-teamed a panicking fledgling.
Spike was enjoying the show. Faith wished his pants hid his assets better. It was distracting, like the thought of how the cigarette he lit for her had just been in his own mouth. It didn’t seem to be fading, that feeling that Buffy’s things also belonged to her. Maybe it was a slayer thing, or maybe it was just her.
She wasn’t even trying to go after Spike. For one thing she seemed to be back in the group’s good graces and for another he practically had ‘property of Buffy’ tattooed across his forehead. Although probably that was a big part of why she was digging on him, because he was really not her type. He was too short, too lean, and his nose was almost as funny looking as Buffy’s. Faith liked them big, broad, and dumb.
But maybe her tastes were changing.
“How’s Red?”
Faith started and then squinted at him a little. “You a mind reader now, Billy?”
A little frown ghosted across his face at the nickname, but then he smiled one of his less pleasant smiles. “You’re thinking about her then?”
Faith shrugged. “You brought her up.” But yeah, she had been thinking about Willow. She was doing that a lot lately.
“You smell like her.”
Faith choked on a lungful of smoke. “Excuse me?” she sputtered. Then it dawned on her. “Oh, yeah, we ran into each other at The Bronze.” It was just a fluke; not like she had any idea that Willow always went for a Sam Adams Light after her last class on Friday, not like she knew anything about Willow’s routine. “I let her wear my jacket on the way back to the dorm. Girl was cold.”
“Right chivalrous of you.” She forced herself not to let the bamb-chicka-bamb-bamb look on his face bother her. “Forgot to wear one of her furry pastel sweaters tonight, I suppose.”
It was Faith’s turn to give a suggestive look. “Didn’t realize you paid that much attention to Willow’s wardrobe. Does B know you’re keeping such a close eye on her best pal?”
Spike shrugged and considered the end of his cigarette. “Red is vamp bait and doesn’t even know it. All those bright colors, all fuzzy and soft and warm. Not so much any more, but used to be such a shrinking little thing, just the type you could corner against a wall in the dark when they slip off to be alone. Almost cuddly feeling when you—bloody hell!”
Faith stared at him. It took a minute to realize there was a connection between the throbbing in her fist and the way he was clutching his head. She whipped around to see if Buffy’s had caught her smacking the boyfriend around. Luckily Buffy was too busy giving one of her lectures on How To Be Good to the new recruits.
“Suppose I deserved that,” Spike offered with a wry smile. He held out the pack. “Have another?”
After a few minutes of smoky silence she cleared her throat. “Didn’t think you had those kind of thoughts anymore, now that you’re all souled up.”
“Still a demon, pet. Just don’t always care so much for the things that pop into my head anymore.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.” He stomped out his smoke. “Worth it though,” he sighed as he sauntered over to chat with Buffy.
They looked so relaxed together. He’d lean into her just slightly, and she’d slide a finger through one of his belt loops. So casual and easy; she didn’t think she’d ever seen Buffy like that with Angel. Big, broad, and dumb; that’s what she was on the hunt for.
It was her turn to work with Amanda, then a short meeting with Giles, and then some serious imbibing. She flicked her smoke against a headstone and watched the little orange sparks fizzle out. Maybe Willow would still be awake.
---------
Dear Xander,
Today I put my third slayer on a plane and tomorrow I'm off to Florida to pick up the fourth. I haven't been to Florida since the 1920s. I never got a chance to tell you those stories. You probably wouldn’t want to hear about what happened to Fredrick Armstrong’s bathtub gin, but I could have taught you how to Charleston. I miss you.
Anya burned the letter in the hotel ashtray and took the ashes out to scatter in the wind. The Houston sky was grey and the ash swirled in the air as an airplane seemed to fly right at her. She stroked her wedding ring and leaned out over the balcony. There was nothing to see but the line of traffic to and from the airport, a few sad trees, and giant billboards. Anya pulled her sweater tighter. It wasn’t as loose as it had been when she’d packed it.
So far slayer retrieval was turning out to be exciting. She's track down the girl, corner her when the opportunity opened to catch the girl alone, ask if the girl had noticed she suddenly had amazing strength. The girls Anya had met so far had been relieved to meet someone who had the answers.
Anya had mixed results with the parents. Connie's parents seemed relieved to get her gone, her mother for her child's safety and her father for less savory reasons. It had taken a great deal of willpower not to call Hallie once she'd gotten the girl out of that house.
Octavia's parents were not happy, but they seemed to think it was a better fate than the early motherhood and drug addiction they obviously thought awaited their daughter. Anya thought the girl seemed smarter than that. Deirdre’s parents were devastated at the end of their daughter's gymnastics career, but the girl was desperate to leave. Her parents wanted to debate; she wanted to earliest flight out.
She hoped Solana would be equally eager. Anya also wondered what was happening to the girls outside the United States. Maybe it was coincidental that Dawn was only seeing American girls so far. Girls in other countries needed help, too. For one thing, it was a big world. For another, Anya wouldn't mind an all-expenses-paid trip to Barcelona.
From down the block apple wood smoke wafted her way, along with the smell of caramelizing sugar and hot animal flesh. Her stomach gurgled and she grabbed her purse. The Council was going to be paying for a full rack of ribs and some potato salad.
---------
Buffy chatted with Faith for a few minutes about who was going to train who, what wasn't working, and what time they'd get together to meet Deirdre. She could feel Spike's eyes on her as they talked. A familiar heat was rising up inside her as he ambled over and slipped one hand into the pocket of her jeans.
"Can you take Amanda home?" she forced herself to ask. "I need to talk to Giles."
Spike gave her a long look, then dropped a quick kiss on the side of her mouth and strolled over to the crowd of new slayers and watchers. Buffy didn't like Diana --- reminded her too much of Gwendolyn Post, but Anil and David seemed okay. Dawn said they sucked at retail, but they were getting along well with the girls. In a way she felt sorry for them. Amanda and the others would never know what it was like to have their very own watcher like the way she had. Not that Giles hadn't cared about Xander and Willow, too, but she'd always known it wasn't the same as what he felt for her.
She missed that. It was partly her fault, but that didn't make it ache any less.
"They're doing quite well, wouldn't you say?" Giles asked softly when the others had cleared out.
Buffy nodded. "They're good."
"And how are you, Buffy?"
She turned to look at him, really look at him. He seemed grayer than when she'd last seen him. "I'm good too," she said quietly.
"Yes, I see that," he agreed.
Buffy let out the breath she was holding. "You haven't really said much about it."
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me since my return?”
“I haven’t…. yes.” There really wasn’t much point in denying it. It had been one thing talking to him over the phone. It was easy enough just to avoid the subject, but now that he was back, seeing them together all the time, she had to know what he thought of her now.
"What would you have me say, Buffy?" He sighed deeply. "I cannot say I heartily approve of the situation, but the two of you do have... a most remarkable effect on one another."
"And that's good? I mean, is it? The effect?" With her mom she could be cool and confident, but it was harder with Giles.
"Well, aside from the perplexing urge to seek his soul?” was the half answer he gave. “He's very good with the girls," he added after a moment of silence. Giles sounded a little surprised at his own grudging praise of the vampire.
She shrugged. "He always liked Dawn. Plus? Vain. It strokes his ego getting to show off for the girls." Buffy couldn't clamp down on her fond smile. "He started wearing those stupid necklaces again because he thinks it will make him look more menacing or something. Because nothing says grr for a guy like jewelry." She didn't mention how it also meant she could jerk him around by the little metal chains when they were in bed together, in a way that was probably not healthy, but God it was such a rush to be able to overpower him like that. It wasn't like he minded.
"Buffy?"
Buffy jerked her head up and blinked. "I was just--"
"I beg you not to enlighten me," he said with a sardonic smile. She had missed his smiles.
"I should go home," she replied. "Get some rest. Got another new girl to work with tomorrow."
"You are doing a wonderful job with them," Giles said with another wistful look. "I must say, I'm proud of you, Buffy. You're an incredible role model for the girls."
Buffy felt her heart clench as she hugged him quickly and carefully. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Giles." She squeezed his shoulder. "There's something else I wanted to say, something I've been wanting to say ever since I got back, but then you were gone, and...." Giles waited patiently for her to get her words together. "Glory and Ben... I know what you did. I know you did it for me, so I wouldn't have to carry that burden." She breathed out, "thank you."
Giles's hand trembled a bit when it touched her cheek. "My dear child, I come back and find you've grown up while I was away."
She slipped out after another quick hug, before she lost it and started blubbering like a little kid. It wasn't until she was out on the sidewalk, the late September air cooling her heated face that she realized how nervous she'd been. So afraid to disappointing Giles. Still she couldn't give up Spike, even if he had asked her to. She loved him. Had she told him that since he'd come back?
It was time to go home and make sure he knew it.
-------
Okay, I know things seem pretty happy. It’s taking me a while to get everything all shook up and situated. Next chapter will see the return of some old enemies and the introduction of a new one. So the action will start ramping up. In the meantime, feedback please, please, please.
In our fifth installment Buffy considers the upside to having Spike as a roommate, Faith does some thinking, Anya checks in, and there is Buffy-Giles interaction.
Chapter Five: Lessons
"Okay... j'aille, tu ailles, il aille, nous allions, vous alliez... Spike, move your hand. ils aillent." Buffy gasped. "Not what I meant," she informed him. She gripped his wrist where it had snuck up underneath her skirt, but she really wasn't all that motivated to stop him and somehow she ended up encouraging him instead. So much better than conjugating the subjunctive.
"That's it, pet, show me how."
"Spike," she tried, but her protest came out as a moan instead. "I have to learn this."
"Keep reciting, Slayer," he instructed.
Kinky bastard. He was getting off on the whole naughty student thing. Which was bad… and well, then, maybe so was she. She kept going. "Je fasse, tu fasses, il fasse, nous fassions... I can't."
"Yes you can, girl. vous fassiez, elles fassent"
Right. Because having Spike growl French in her ear was really helping her concentrate on homework. She gave up and leaned back against his chest, her hand still guiding his. She'd had far too much time to figure out what sort of rhythm worked for her in the months he'd been gone.
But of course Spike added a twist or two of his own. Her head rolled against his shoulder as she arched against the bolt of sensation thrumming through her.
When she could control her breathing again, she scolded him. "William, you're being very distracting."
"Goodie," he rumbled, nibbling at her neck.
She thwapped his knee. "You have to let me study, or I’m going to have to start spending all my time at the library." She really didn't want to. The apartment had so much more going for it. Sunken bathtub, satin sheets, privacy, unlimited Spike access...
They were supposed to be meeting Giles and the girls for training after sunset. She wasn’t sure they were going to make it, with the mood he was in. Really, Buffy wanted to impress the new girls. There were three now: Amanda, Connie, and Octavia. And, she wanted them to think of her as a good mentor, not a flighty vamp ho. But with Spike’s hands all over her, it was hard to keep that goal in mind. Also, passing her classes was probably a good plan.
He did that thing again, where he sorta bobbed around her. It still made her a little uneasy, the whole I'm scenting you thing, which was just a pretty way of saying he liked the smell of her after an orgasm. "Can't help myself, pet. When you get all prim schoolgirl, just makes me want to sup at your tasty quim."
"My..." Jesus. This was life with souled Spike. Occasional night terrors, fewer comments about how he wanted to rip people's spines out and sometimes really bizarro purple phrases like that. "Sup at my tasty quim?" She twisted around to look at him. "Makes me sound like one of those drive-thru places people go to for a root beer float."
Another change was that she could now sometimes cause a little shadow of shy embarrassment to cross his face. But then it was the familiar leer, eyebrows quirked, tongue thrust against his teeth. "You get any ideas about opening for business, might have to tie you to this bed and remind you you're mine alone."
Her homework was so not getting done. She squirmed a little and licked her lips before managing a husky, "Okay."
---------------------
Spike was leaning against a headstone lighting up when Faith strolled in on the training session. She was really only a little late, and she hoped her sister slayer would spare her the lecture this time. Buffy was standing near the girls, shouting encouragement and instructions while Octavia and Connie double-teamed a panicking fledgling.
Spike was enjoying the show. Faith wished his pants hid his assets better. It was distracting, like the thought of how the cigarette he lit for her had just been in his own mouth. It didn’t seem to be fading, that feeling that Buffy’s things also belonged to her. Maybe it was a slayer thing, or maybe it was just her.
She wasn’t even trying to go after Spike. For one thing she seemed to be back in the group’s good graces and for another he practically had ‘property of Buffy’ tattooed across his forehead. Although probably that was a big part of why she was digging on him, because he was really not her type. He was too short, too lean, and his nose was almost as funny looking as Buffy’s. Faith liked them big, broad, and dumb.
But maybe her tastes were changing.
“How’s Red?”
Faith started and then squinted at him a little. “You a mind reader now, Billy?”
A little frown ghosted across his face at the nickname, but then he smiled one of his less pleasant smiles. “You’re thinking about her then?”
Faith shrugged. “You brought her up.” But yeah, she had been thinking about Willow. She was doing that a lot lately.
“You smell like her.”
Faith choked on a lungful of smoke. “Excuse me?” she sputtered. Then it dawned on her. “Oh, yeah, we ran into each other at The Bronze.” It was just a fluke; not like she had any idea that Willow always went for a Sam Adams Light after her last class on Friday, not like she knew anything about Willow’s routine. “I let her wear my jacket on the way back to the dorm. Girl was cold.”
“Right chivalrous of you.” She forced herself not to let the bamb-chicka-bamb-bamb look on his face bother her. “Forgot to wear one of her furry pastel sweaters tonight, I suppose.”
It was Faith’s turn to give a suggestive look. “Didn’t realize you paid that much attention to Willow’s wardrobe. Does B know you’re keeping such a close eye on her best pal?”
Spike shrugged and considered the end of his cigarette. “Red is vamp bait and doesn’t even know it. All those bright colors, all fuzzy and soft and warm. Not so much any more, but used to be such a shrinking little thing, just the type you could corner against a wall in the dark when they slip off to be alone. Almost cuddly feeling when you—bloody hell!”
Faith stared at him. It took a minute to realize there was a connection between the throbbing in her fist and the way he was clutching his head. She whipped around to see if Buffy’s had caught her smacking the boyfriend around. Luckily Buffy was too busy giving one of her lectures on How To Be Good to the new recruits.
“Suppose I deserved that,” Spike offered with a wry smile. He held out the pack. “Have another?”
After a few minutes of smoky silence she cleared her throat. “Didn’t think you had those kind of thoughts anymore, now that you’re all souled up.”
“Still a demon, pet. Just don’t always care so much for the things that pop into my head anymore.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.” He stomped out his smoke. “Worth it though,” he sighed as he sauntered over to chat with Buffy.
They looked so relaxed together. He’d lean into her just slightly, and she’d slide a finger through one of his belt loops. So casual and easy; she didn’t think she’d ever seen Buffy like that with Angel. Big, broad, and dumb; that’s what she was on the hunt for.
It was her turn to work with Amanda, then a short meeting with Giles, and then some serious imbibing. She flicked her smoke against a headstone and watched the little orange sparks fizzle out. Maybe Willow would still be awake.
---------
Dear Xander,
Today I put my third slayer on a plane and tomorrow I'm off to Florida to pick up the fourth. I haven't been to Florida since the 1920s. I never got a chance to tell you those stories. You probably wouldn’t want to hear about what happened to Fredrick Armstrong’s bathtub gin, but I could have taught you how to Charleston. I miss you.
Anya burned the letter in the hotel ashtray and took the ashes out to scatter in the wind. The Houston sky was grey and the ash swirled in the air as an airplane seemed to fly right at her. She stroked her wedding ring and leaned out over the balcony. There was nothing to see but the line of traffic to and from the airport, a few sad trees, and giant billboards. Anya pulled her sweater tighter. It wasn’t as loose as it had been when she’d packed it.
So far slayer retrieval was turning out to be exciting. She's track down the girl, corner her when the opportunity opened to catch the girl alone, ask if the girl had noticed she suddenly had amazing strength. The girls Anya had met so far had been relieved to meet someone who had the answers.
Anya had mixed results with the parents. Connie's parents seemed relieved to get her gone, her mother for her child's safety and her father for less savory reasons. It had taken a great deal of willpower not to call Hallie once she'd gotten the girl out of that house.
Octavia's parents were not happy, but they seemed to think it was a better fate than the early motherhood and drug addiction they obviously thought awaited their daughter. Anya thought the girl seemed smarter than that. Deirdre’s parents were devastated at the end of their daughter's gymnastics career, but the girl was desperate to leave. Her parents wanted to debate; she wanted to earliest flight out.
She hoped Solana would be equally eager. Anya also wondered what was happening to the girls outside the United States. Maybe it was coincidental that Dawn was only seeing American girls so far. Girls in other countries needed help, too. For one thing, it was a big world. For another, Anya wouldn't mind an all-expenses-paid trip to Barcelona.
From down the block apple wood smoke wafted her way, along with the smell of caramelizing sugar and hot animal flesh. Her stomach gurgled and she grabbed her purse. The Council was going to be paying for a full rack of ribs and some potato salad.
---------
Buffy chatted with Faith for a few minutes about who was going to train who, what wasn't working, and what time they'd get together to meet Deirdre. She could feel Spike's eyes on her as they talked. A familiar heat was rising up inside her as he ambled over and slipped one hand into the pocket of her jeans.
"Can you take Amanda home?" she forced herself to ask. "I need to talk to Giles."
Spike gave her a long look, then dropped a quick kiss on the side of her mouth and strolled over to the crowd of new slayers and watchers. Buffy didn't like Diana --- reminded her too much of Gwendolyn Post, but Anil and David seemed okay. Dawn said they sucked at retail, but they were getting along well with the girls. In a way she felt sorry for them. Amanda and the others would never know what it was like to have their very own watcher like the way she had. Not that Giles hadn't cared about Xander and Willow, too, but she'd always known it wasn't the same as what he felt for her.
She missed that. It was partly her fault, but that didn't make it ache any less.
"They're doing quite well, wouldn't you say?" Giles asked softly when the others had cleared out.
Buffy nodded. "They're good."
"And how are you, Buffy?"
She turned to look at him, really look at him. He seemed grayer than when she'd last seen him. "I'm good too," she said quietly.
"Yes, I see that," he agreed.
Buffy let out the breath she was holding. "You haven't really said much about it."
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me since my return?”
“I haven’t…. yes.” There really wasn’t much point in denying it. It had been one thing talking to him over the phone. It was easy enough just to avoid the subject, but now that he was back, seeing them together all the time, she had to know what he thought of her now.
"What would you have me say, Buffy?" He sighed deeply. "I cannot say I heartily approve of the situation, but the two of you do have... a most remarkable effect on one another."
"And that's good? I mean, is it? The effect?" With her mom she could be cool and confident, but it was harder with Giles.
"Well, aside from the perplexing urge to seek his soul?” was the half answer he gave. “He's very good with the girls," he added after a moment of silence. Giles sounded a little surprised at his own grudging praise of the vampire.
She shrugged. "He always liked Dawn. Plus? Vain. It strokes his ego getting to show off for the girls." Buffy couldn't clamp down on her fond smile. "He started wearing those stupid necklaces again because he thinks it will make him look more menacing or something. Because nothing says grr for a guy like jewelry." She didn't mention how it also meant she could jerk him around by the little metal chains when they were in bed together, in a way that was probably not healthy, but God it was such a rush to be able to overpower him like that. It wasn't like he minded.
"Buffy?"
Buffy jerked her head up and blinked. "I was just--"
"I beg you not to enlighten me," he said with a sardonic smile. She had missed his smiles.
"I should go home," she replied. "Get some rest. Got another new girl to work with tomorrow."
"You are doing a wonderful job with them," Giles said with another wistful look. "I must say, I'm proud of you, Buffy. You're an incredible role model for the girls."
Buffy felt her heart clench as she hugged him quickly and carefully. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Giles." She squeezed his shoulder. "There's something else I wanted to say, something I've been wanting to say ever since I got back, but then you were gone, and...." Giles waited patiently for her to get her words together. "Glory and Ben... I know what you did. I know you did it for me, so I wouldn't have to carry that burden." She breathed out, "thank you."
Giles's hand trembled a bit when it touched her cheek. "My dear child, I come back and find you've grown up while I was away."
She slipped out after another quick hug, before she lost it and started blubbering like a little kid. It wasn't until she was out on the sidewalk, the late September air cooling her heated face that she realized how nervous she'd been. So afraid to disappointing Giles. Still she couldn't give up Spike, even if he had asked her to. She loved him. Had she told him that since he'd come back?
It was time to go home and make sure he knew it.
-------
Okay, I know things seem pretty happy. It’s taking me a while to get everything all shook up and situated. Next chapter will see the return of some old enemies and the introduction of a new one. So the action will start ramping up. In the meantime, feedback please, please, please.
Interlude
Author’s Note: This is me fulfilling a reader request (for the appropriately named DreamsofSpike) and working through some writer’s block. Feedback is wonderful, and I promise I’m working on chapter six too.
In this interlude there is nudity, adult language, and soul stuff.
Interlude
He stood and moved to lounge in the doorway with deliberate casualness when he heard Buffy come in. There was still such a kick in it, hearing her key in the lock. So much better than the creak of his crypt door opening. He watched her shrug off her light jacket and empty her pockets into the basket by the door, where their keys mingled with the odd stake and his Zippo.
His lady love stretched and called out, "Honey? I'm home," in a light, teasing tone.
"I see that," he remarked. Her eyes searched the dark apartment for him. "Took you long enough."
She shrugged and maneuvered toward the bedroom by memory in the dark. "Giles and I were having a moment." Buffy slid her hand up his chest to play with the silver chain around his neck. "I missed you. Is that dumb?"
He grabbed her up, kissed her hard, dumped her on the bed. She let loose one of her warm laughs and he drank in the sight of her, spilled out on his sheets. "I love you," she told him. "You know that, right?"
"Bears repeating," he replied as she pulled him down to the bed. It augured poorly that he was so happy. Something was sure to happen presently, fuck it all up in a some spectacular way. She clambered over him and pressed his hands to the mattress under hers before attacking his mouth.
When she drew back she was smiling. "You're thinking," she accused. "Poetry again?" He scoffed and lifted his head up, hoping she'd swoop down to meet him. Instead she pouted at him.
"You want some poetry, pet?" He took a deep breath and put on his best William voice. "Was in another lifetime, one of toil and blood/When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud/I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form. 'Come in,' she said, 'I'll give you shelter from the storm.' How's that, love?"
Her eyes were huge. "I thought you said you were a bad poet."
Spike laughed and slid his wrists from her grip to take her face in his hands and bring it down to his for a long, lingering exploration of her mouth. "I didn't write it, Buffy. It's a Bob Dylan song, you little Philistine."
She punched him on the shoulder and moved away from him. Crossed her arms and glared at him where she knelt on the bed. "Don't make fun of me, or I'm going."
That seemed extremely unlikely.
It was a such a rush, the ease he had with her now. He didn't know how much of that was time and how much was the soul. She'd loved him before, but that had been so new he'd barely had time to absorb it before he went on his quest. Would she be here now, in his home, their home, without it? The soul changed things, that much was certain. Everything he did now was colored by it. Still got a thrill from a rousing round of fists and fangs in the graveyard with the girls, but in addition to assuaging his appetite for violence and whetting his appetite for the Slayer there was the added, unfamiliar satisfaction of having done something good.
Not that it made up for what he'd been before. There was no way to make up for that, not if he lasted another century. He could only be what he was now, just as he'd always done. He'd shaped himself from William to Spike to impress Dru and frustrate Angel, and Spike had rebuilt himself for the Slayer into whatever he had become now. Still a touch of William, still a lot of Spike, and maybe something more or less than all of that. He didn't have a real answer. He was hers, that was what mattered mostly. And she wanted him.
"You don't want to go, Buffy," he countered, turning on the bedroom eyes
and stalking toward her on his knees. "I can tell how much you want to
stay."
"It's not fair that you can do that," she grumbled.
He took one of her warm little hands and stroked it across his hip to the bulge in his jeans. "Whereas you have no way of knowing when I'm in the mood."
"You're always in the mood," she retorted with mock dismay. She was already massaging him. Her free hand came up to grab his necklace and use it to pull his face to hers. Men did not swoon, especially big bad warrior men like himself, so there must be some other word to describe the light-headed effect she had on him. Laughter rumbled through her chest as his cock twitched against her palm. "Get undressed," she ordered breathlessly as she hastened to do the same.
Spike kicked off his boots, shucked his jeans, and drew his t-shirt up over his head. When he turned back, there she was, naked and luscious, her back to him as she reached out to drop her earrings on the bedside table. He pounced, pulling her to him and rolling her onto her stomach under him while she squeaked and flailed without real effort.
“Got you now, Slayer,” he purred into her ear.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed in mock horror. Buffy ground herself against him and he sat back on his haunches so that she could lift herself up on knees and elbows. There was nothing quite like the sight of him slowly sliding into her heat, or the noise she made as she rocked back against him.
Spike knew what she liked, how she preferred the first time or two rough and hungry. Later she would let him take it slow and sweet, give him time to make thoroughly sure that everything was as he remembered it from that afternoon. For the moment though she was gagging for the good, hard pounding he was giving her. She gave breathy little groans and grabbed at the foot board. Spike, more. Spike, now. Spike, yes, yes, yes!
He steeled himself against the onslaught of her shaking grasping body and the joy of having pleased his girl. Sliding one arm under her, he pulled her back up against his chest. One hand coasted up to cup a breast, the other pressing tight against her hip to enforce the rhythm as they moved together. Buffy threw her arms up around his neck from behind and shifted so she could meet his eyes. She twisted up to kiss him, her body still moving in counterpoint with his.
“Come on then, let’s go over it again, Slayer.”
She have a breathy laugh in response. “If I couldn't concentrate before--”
“Do you need me to stop, love?” he teased.
“No!” She glared at him with lusty eyes. “Fine.” She sighed, and began to recite, “j'aille, tu ailles, il aille, Spike! nous….allions, vous allies, ils aillent...”
“Good girl,” he whispered. “Good, hot, sweet, tight girl.” He was beginning to babble. Too soon. Had to keep himself grounded. His pleasure would come later.
“Oh god!” Her fingers gripped his hair painfully. Spike could feel her beginning to seize up again as he rolled the nipple in his fingers. He wanted to keep it going, wanted to bring her off again and again. But when she was lax and contented against his shoulder, her hips were still moving. She brushed the hair from her eyes and whispered, “I love you, Spike,” against his lips and he was done for.
“I bargained for salvation, and they gave me a lethal dose.”
“What?”
Spike was barely aware he’d said anything. “Nothing, love. More Dylan.” They lay on the pillows catching their breath. She gave him a smile like a lioness and ran a manicured nail over his chest. If he did, in fact, manage to fuck it all up, he hoped he’d be lucky enough to walk into raging sunlight immediately afterward.
--------
Actual plot next time, I promise.
In this interlude there is nudity, adult language, and soul stuff.
Interlude
He stood and moved to lounge in the doorway with deliberate casualness when he heard Buffy come in. There was still such a kick in it, hearing her key in the lock. So much better than the creak of his crypt door opening. He watched her shrug off her light jacket and empty her pockets into the basket by the door, where their keys mingled with the odd stake and his Zippo.
His lady love stretched and called out, "Honey? I'm home," in a light, teasing tone.
"I see that," he remarked. Her eyes searched the dark apartment for him. "Took you long enough."
She shrugged and maneuvered toward the bedroom by memory in the dark. "Giles and I were having a moment." Buffy slid her hand up his chest to play with the silver chain around his neck. "I missed you. Is that dumb?"
He grabbed her up, kissed her hard, dumped her on the bed. She let loose one of her warm laughs and he drank in the sight of her, spilled out on his sheets. "I love you," she told him. "You know that, right?"
"Bears repeating," he replied as she pulled him down to the bed. It augured poorly that he was so happy. Something was sure to happen presently, fuck it all up in a some spectacular way. She clambered over him and pressed his hands to the mattress under hers before attacking his mouth.
When she drew back she was smiling. "You're thinking," she accused. "Poetry again?" He scoffed and lifted his head up, hoping she'd swoop down to meet him. Instead she pouted at him.
"You want some poetry, pet?" He took a deep breath and put on his best William voice. "Was in another lifetime, one of toil and blood/When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud/I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form. 'Come in,' she said, 'I'll give you shelter from the storm.' How's that, love?"
Her eyes were huge. "I thought you said you were a bad poet."
Spike laughed and slid his wrists from her grip to take her face in his hands and bring it down to his for a long, lingering exploration of her mouth. "I didn't write it, Buffy. It's a Bob Dylan song, you little Philistine."
She punched him on the shoulder and moved away from him. Crossed her arms and glared at him where she knelt on the bed. "Don't make fun of me, or I'm going."
That seemed extremely unlikely.
It was a such a rush, the ease he had with her now. He didn't know how much of that was time and how much was the soul. She'd loved him before, but that had been so new he'd barely had time to absorb it before he went on his quest. Would she be here now, in his home, their home, without it? The soul changed things, that much was certain. Everything he did now was colored by it. Still got a thrill from a rousing round of fists and fangs in the graveyard with the girls, but in addition to assuaging his appetite for violence and whetting his appetite for the Slayer there was the added, unfamiliar satisfaction of having done something good.
Not that it made up for what he'd been before. There was no way to make up for that, not if he lasted another century. He could only be what he was now, just as he'd always done. He'd shaped himself from William to Spike to impress Dru and frustrate Angel, and Spike had rebuilt himself for the Slayer into whatever he had become now. Still a touch of William, still a lot of Spike, and maybe something more or less than all of that. He didn't have a real answer. He was hers, that was what mattered mostly. And she wanted him.
"You don't want to go, Buffy," he countered, turning on the bedroom eyes
and stalking toward her on his knees. "I can tell how much you want to
stay."
"It's not fair that you can do that," she grumbled.
He took one of her warm little hands and stroked it across his hip to the bulge in his jeans. "Whereas you have no way of knowing when I'm in the mood."
"You're always in the mood," she retorted with mock dismay. She was already massaging him. Her free hand came up to grab his necklace and use it to pull his face to hers. Men did not swoon, especially big bad warrior men like himself, so there must be some other word to describe the light-headed effect she had on him. Laughter rumbled through her chest as his cock twitched against her palm. "Get undressed," she ordered breathlessly as she hastened to do the same.
Spike kicked off his boots, shucked his jeans, and drew his t-shirt up over his head. When he turned back, there she was, naked and luscious, her back to him as she reached out to drop her earrings on the bedside table. He pounced, pulling her to him and rolling her onto her stomach under him while she squeaked and flailed without real effort.
“Got you now, Slayer,” he purred into her ear.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed in mock horror. Buffy ground herself against him and he sat back on his haunches so that she could lift herself up on knees and elbows. There was nothing quite like the sight of him slowly sliding into her heat, or the noise she made as she rocked back against him.
Spike knew what she liked, how she preferred the first time or two rough and hungry. Later she would let him take it slow and sweet, give him time to make thoroughly sure that everything was as he remembered it from that afternoon. For the moment though she was gagging for the good, hard pounding he was giving her. She gave breathy little groans and grabbed at the foot board. Spike, more. Spike, now. Spike, yes, yes, yes!
He steeled himself against the onslaught of her shaking grasping body and the joy of having pleased his girl. Sliding one arm under her, he pulled her back up against his chest. One hand coasted up to cup a breast, the other pressing tight against her hip to enforce the rhythm as they moved together. Buffy threw her arms up around his neck from behind and shifted so she could meet his eyes. She twisted up to kiss him, her body still moving in counterpoint with his.
“Come on then, let’s go over it again, Slayer.”
She have a breathy laugh in response. “If I couldn't concentrate before--”
“Do you need me to stop, love?” he teased.
“No!” She glared at him with lusty eyes. “Fine.” She sighed, and began to recite, “j'aille, tu ailles, il aille, Spike! nous….allions, vous allies, ils aillent...”
“Good girl,” he whispered. “Good, hot, sweet, tight girl.” He was beginning to babble. Too soon. Had to keep himself grounded. His pleasure would come later.
“Oh god!” Her fingers gripped his hair painfully. Spike could feel her beginning to seize up again as he rolled the nipple in his fingers. He wanted to keep it going, wanted to bring her off again and again. But when she was lax and contented against his shoulder, her hips were still moving. She brushed the hair from her eyes and whispered, “I love you, Spike,” against his lips and he was done for.
“I bargained for salvation, and they gave me a lethal dose.”
“What?”
Spike was barely aware he’d said anything. “Nothing, love. More Dylan.” They lay on the pillows catching their breath. She gave him a smile like a lioness and ran a manicured nail over his chest. If he did, in fact, manage to fuck it all up, he hoped he’d be lucky enough to walk into raging sunlight immediately afterward.
--------
Actual plot next time, I promise.
Conversations With Dead People
Author’s Note: Thanks as always to Kar for the beta job and to my wonderful readers and reviewers. Feedback feeds the muse. Posting may slow down a little. I’m starting to get into the meat of the story, so I have to take care that the plan for chapter eight works with what actually get written for seven, if that makes sense.
In our sixth installment there is inappropriate crushing and disturbing encounters with the dead.
Chapter Six: Conversations With Dead People
October
Dawn splashed water on her face and tried to take deep, calming
breaths. It was so stupid, getting upset and crying like a big, stupid
baby. It was just so damn frustrating sometimes. Nights when she
couldn't concentrate, or she could concentrate and the visions didn't
come. And now they were coming again, but she couldn't understand
them.
She had tried, really, really tried to remember the characters. Every wiggle and curve, but it was pointless. With the French girls she had been able to at least spell stuff out. But she couldn't read Chinese or Korean or whatever it was. She was totally useless. A big useless total failure.
"Dawn? You okay in there?"
Amanda. Amanda was all worried about her. They were all out there, Amanda and the girls she had found. Connie. Octavia. Deirdre. Solana. Yvette and Yvonne. But she couldn't find this one. She rubbed her face fiercely with a paper towel, trying to eradicate any traces of mascara or salt water. That left her all pink and blotchy so she leaned against the sink and took deep breaths before she tried facing everyone again.
She came out of the bathroom. The other girls were sparring, but Amanda handed her a bottle of water. "Same girl?"
Dawn nodded and gulped down the water. The Watchers were all upstairs, trying to run Anya's store while Anya waited for instructions. Dawn hoped she was enjoying her extended European vacation. "It's making me crazy. It's like the visions won't let me see anyone else until I find her."
Amanda shrugged. "Maybe she's the last one. I mean, how many of us can there be? There were already a bunch in training and what's his face already scooped up some more."
"Even if she is the last one, we've still got to find her before those eyeless freaks do." Dawn rubbed her temples.
"Dawn? Dawn are you quite well?"
David. David looked way too young to be a Watcher. And, way too cute. Yvonne and Yvette were whispering about him in frantic French, which was really dumb because he only spoke 80 languages and French or something close was bound to be one of them. Dawn was jealous; she'd taught herself some Sumerian and she spoke reasonable Spanish, and if she knew what language the lost girl was speaking maybe she could actually be useful. Maybe she should ask David to teach her a demon language. That would be cool.
Totally for evil fighting purposes, of course. Not because she wanted to spend more time around him. He was at least a good ten years older than her and way nerdy. Willow could call it geek chic all she wanted, but the boy was lame. Adorably lame, but lame.
"Miss Summers?"
Really freakin' adorable.
"Yeah, David, I'm okay. Thanks." She felt a little thrill when he shyly patted her shoulder and the Paris girls gave her snotty looks. "I'm just not any better at reading or speaking Chinese or whatever than I was two days ago."
"I speak several Asian languages," he informed her in that prim Wesley way.
"Well, if you could go with me on my visions, we'd be all good," she replied with a small smile.
David's face brightened. "Ah, that is an idea. I shall speak to the others."
Dawn blinked at him a few times while she absorbed that, then nodded. He went rushing up the stairs and Dawn leaned against a wall. Taking someone with her on the visions. Would they be occupying the same body? That seemed kinda... intimate.
She realized that Amanda was staring at her. She licked her lips. "Is there anymore water?"
Amanda gave her a knowing look. "I'll go find something to cool you off."
---------
It was Friday again already. Six weeks into the semester. Six weeks of Friday afternoon happy hour at The Bronze. She heaved herself up onto one of the few empty stools and nodded at Devon, who brought her a pint without asking.
"We're playing tomorrow night. Just in case you're around. Different sound than we had when we were the Dingoes, you know."
"Sounds cool," she replied noncommittally.
"You ever hear from Oz?"
Some wounds never quite healed. "No. Never."
Devon wandered over to help some other customers and Willow gave a sigh of relief. By Fridays she was too wrung out to keep up a friendly, casual conversation. Days spent with the intricacies of digital logic and Schrodinger's equation and nights trying to decipher demon riddles with David. Her brain hurt.
Seeing Tara stroll in with Gemma wasn't exactly a soothing balm either. Still, she waved gamely and traded weary smiles with her ex-girlfriend. True to her word, she was
friendly and cool when they all got together at The Magic Box. She was polite in public. It didn't make her heart any less broken, but at least she wasn't wearing it on her sleeve.
It was exactly the kind of thing she would have talked about with Buffy, if things weren't so weird between them now -- how did you thank someone who had rescued you from your own mess like that? -- or Xander, except that there was no Xander anymore. Someday, Willow hoped anyway, that would stop feeling like a fresh discovery. As it was, every time that thought crossed her mind, it seemed just as astonishing and wrenching as it had been the minute she'd seen his bloody body in Buffy's arms.
Tara and Gemma were giggling, leaning into each other the way lovers did. She forced herself not to stare at them; she kept her eyes trained on the television over the bar instead. Then she felt a more genuine smile coming on as she felt someone slip into the seat next to her.
"Fancy meeting you here," she teased.
Faith nodded in greeting and waved Devon over. "What can I say, Herm. Got a
crush on you," she said in that disconcerting tone that Willow never could interpret. Was she messing with her?
"Whatever," Willow sighed. She downed the rest of her drink. "I guess us murdering bitches have to stay together."
Faith blinked at her, then grinned. "Damn, girl. When did you get so hard?"
Willow looked at her glass and started it rotating in a slow circle. "Ignore me. I'm in a mood."
"Well, let's get you another drink. Get you in a better mood." Faith waved at Devon with one hand while the other landed on the small of Willow's back. Willow watched as Faith slammed back a shot of whatever she was drinking. Then her hand moved lower, fingers sliding under the waistband of her skirt.
God, she sucked at this kind of thing, the flirting and the signals. Was Faith just jerking her around? Did she think it was funny? They didn't even like each other, did they? You know what? Screw it!
Willow grabbed a hank of Faith's stupid hair and laid one on her. And, Faith responded by returning the kiss just as fiercely and stuffing her hand farther down to squeeze Willow's ass. It just kept going and Willow felt a little spinney, and then there were a bunch of guys hooting. Faith pulled back, tossed some money on the table, and said, "Let's get out of here."
She couldn't help it; she glanced back to see Tara's astonished expression, and damn if that didn't make it even better. On the sidewalk Faith reeled her in again, and it was so weird that Faith, Faith, was making her feel all flushed and overheated. The streetlights were just starting to flicker on and the orange sunset behind Faith seemed to set her on fire. They stumbled along silently through the empty parking lot of Faith's apartment complex, like speaking would break the spell. And it might have, if something else hadn't happened first.
"Hey! Was there a prison break or something?"
Willow felt her entire body go stiff and cold. "Fuck off, asshole," Faith replied, tugging at Willow's arm.
"Oh god," Willow managed. "Warren."
"Good to see you too, bitch."
Faith was no longer pulling her, her hand now gone tight around Willow's arm like she was holding her up. Willow was vaguely aware that she might have fallen otherwise. "You're dead."
"Doesn't always stick around here, does it?" He grinned at her. His legs stepped forward, but the upper half of his body stayed where it was, dripping gore. "But yeah, I'm dead."
"I fucking hate this town," Faith whispered.
Warren clapped his hands to keep time while his legs performed a peppy dance around his floating torso. Willow felt sick. "What are you?"
The thing that looked like Warren grinned. "Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am and always have been, I am the First. Beyond sin, beyond death. I am the thing the darkness fears. You'll never see me, but I am everywhere. Every being, every thought,
every drop of hate."
Willow felt strangely relieved. "Oh, well, I won't be killing myself, so could you just, you know, move along?"
It laughed. "Ah, but I wanted to thank you. You opened the door."
"What?!" Willow lurched forward, but the thing just stepped through her and disappeared. There was a buzzing in her head and then blackness.
---------
Buffy stretched her arms over her head and ran her eyes down her body to her feet, one of which was cupped in Spike's grip as he carefully applied Argenteeny Pinkini to her toes. "You so saw this in Cosmo, didn't you?"
"Way you leave your little girly rags spilling off every flat surface in the place, thought it was a hint, pet."
She rolled her eyes and fingered the necklace he'd clapped around her neck. There was absolutely nowhere she could wear such an ornate thing, but Spike seemed to like it worn on its own. He was big on the gift-giving lately. Which reminded her, "I got my first paycheck from the Council today."
Spike nodded in acknowledgement and dipped the brush back in the bottle.
"So, you can tell me what I owe you for my half."
"Your half?"
"Yeah, my half of, you know, the rent and utilities and stuff."
He frowned at her. "Don't be daft."
She propped herself up on her elbows. "I'm not being daft. I live here, don't I? I'm on the lease, I use water and power; I should be paying."
"Not taking your money," he scoffed. He twisted the lid back on the bottle and sat back to look her over.
"I don't need you supporting me," she protested.
"Not about what you need, Buffy. It's my home and I want you in it. You don't have to pay me for that."
"I thought this was our home?" she objected. She suddenly really didn't like where this is going.
"It is." He massaged her heel, storm clouds across his face.
Buffy sighed and tugged at her necklace. "I don't want to be your... kept woman, okay? That's not me."
"You're not," he insisted.
"What am I then?"
Spike looked desperate for a cigarette. Or something to kill. He kissed her instep. "My girl, my mistress."
"Oh, well that's better," she replied caustically. Like that wasn't the exact same thing. "When my toes dry, I am so kicking your ass!"
"Not like that, love." He sighed and slouched against the foot board.
"Like what then?" She tried to think of any possible other meaning for mistress. "Like you're my pet?" He shrugged. "Okay, first of all, that's gross. Second of all, if that were true, I should be taking care of you."
"You do take care of me," he muttered, suddenly all sex eyes again. "Quite well, matter of fact. And, as I recollect, you're somewhat fond of yanking my collars or clapping me in chains." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Buffy," he breathed in that coaxing tone that was so hard to resist. "The interest off the Gem of Amara haul is more than enough dosh for this. Use yours for whatever you like."
"What I'd like is to contribute, Spike."
He rolled his eyes up, like he was appealing to heaven for help. "Could do with some new furniture in this place."
Maybe he was putting her off, but it was also true. The bed was in pretty good shape, considering how much daily abuse it got. But the other furniture from his crypt was pretty ratty. Plus it smelled like it had been underground for years. "Okay, I'll take care of it," she agreed.
He guided her legs up over his shoulders. "We done fighting then?" he asked, with the quirked eyebrow and a tongue roll.
It had been almost a year that they'd been together, if you counted the summer gap. It seemed like she should be getting over this constant hunger. It was embarrassing the way he could get her so hot just by making a face. "Buffy," he whispered against her thigh, hands pushing her chemise up out of the way. "You're my own girl, my pretty thing, my fierce mistress..." He stopped kissing his way up her leg to look at her. "But you own me, love. I'm your own, your--"
"Concubine. The word you're looking for, it's concubine."
Buffy looked over Spike's shoulder and felt him yank the covers over her exposed body.
"Nothing I haven't seen before."
"Angel? How did you get in here?" Okay, she thought, that was a stupid thing to ask, but she hadn't invited him in, and she was pretty sure Spike hadn't.
"What, William? Not going to ask me to join you? You know, sometimes I do miss that mouth of yours."
Buffy felt an intense urge to throw herself between the two of them, but instead she just sat up and started feeling behind the headboard for a stake. Angelus was in her home somehow. She felt lightheaded and leaden at the same time.
Spike's hand brushed her arm. "It's not him," he said quietly. "It's some sort of phantom."
The thing that looked like Angel smiled at her. "We've met before. I don't think I can talk this one into a noble death though."
She forced herself to breath normally. Knowing what she was dealing with wasn't making her feel that much better, under the circumstances. No way this thing was back just for kicks. "Fine. Kudos. You're still really creepy. But you're all talk. Get lost."
"Not anymore, lover. I just wanted to say thanks for that."
Then, it just wasn't there anymore and she had a fun new puzzle to solve. Just great.
"Mind explaining what the bleeding fuck just happened?"
"That thing, that was---" She clutched her head as something seemed to screech inside her skull. Help me, help, helphelphelp.
"Christ," Spike muttered. "I'd forgotten she could do that."
"You heard it too?" Buffy asked, feeling dazed.
"Willow. Used to do it all the time that summer you were gone." He was up, throwing clothes at her and putting on his boots. "Doubt she even knew she was doing it. Sounded panicked."
She pulled the shirt on. "We have to find her. Like, now."
"I think I can track her."
Buffy frowned, slightly unsettled that Spike was that familiar with Willow's scent. Her cell phone rang. She fastened her pants while she talked to Faith. "Come on. They're at Memorial Hospital."
He nodded. "Any chance you'll tell me what the hell is going on?"
She had to give him a wry smile for that. Her good little soldier. She knew he'd follow her whether she gave him the 411 or not. "I'll explain on the way."
-----------
See, actual plot here, as promised ;)
I also have a new post-Chosen short up on my lj: Hello, Iowa on msclawdia.livejournal.com
It’s Spuffy-adjacent with neither of them in the action, so I’m not sure I can post it here. Please read and comment; it’s darker than I normally go.
In our sixth installment there is inappropriate crushing and disturbing encounters with the dead.
Chapter Six: Conversations With Dead People
October
Dawn splashed water on her face and tried to take deep, calming
breaths. It was so stupid, getting upset and crying like a big, stupid
baby. It was just so damn frustrating sometimes. Nights when she
couldn't concentrate, or she could concentrate and the visions didn't
come. And now they were coming again, but she couldn't understand
them.
She had tried, really, really tried to remember the characters. Every wiggle and curve, but it was pointless. With the French girls she had been able to at least spell stuff out. But she couldn't read Chinese or Korean or whatever it was. She was totally useless. A big useless total failure.
"Dawn? You okay in there?"
Amanda. Amanda was all worried about her. They were all out there, Amanda and the girls she had found. Connie. Octavia. Deirdre. Solana. Yvette and Yvonne. But she couldn't find this one. She rubbed her face fiercely with a paper towel, trying to eradicate any traces of mascara or salt water. That left her all pink and blotchy so she leaned against the sink and took deep breaths before she tried facing everyone again.
She came out of the bathroom. The other girls were sparring, but Amanda handed her a bottle of water. "Same girl?"
Dawn nodded and gulped down the water. The Watchers were all upstairs, trying to run Anya's store while Anya waited for instructions. Dawn hoped she was enjoying her extended European vacation. "It's making me crazy. It's like the visions won't let me see anyone else until I find her."
Amanda shrugged. "Maybe she's the last one. I mean, how many of us can there be? There were already a bunch in training and what's his face already scooped up some more."
"Even if she is the last one, we've still got to find her before those eyeless freaks do." Dawn rubbed her temples.
"Dawn? Dawn are you quite well?"
David. David looked way too young to be a Watcher. And, way too cute. Yvonne and Yvette were whispering about him in frantic French, which was really dumb because he only spoke 80 languages and French or something close was bound to be one of them. Dawn was jealous; she'd taught herself some Sumerian and she spoke reasonable Spanish, and if she knew what language the lost girl was speaking maybe she could actually be useful. Maybe she should ask David to teach her a demon language. That would be cool.
Totally for evil fighting purposes, of course. Not because she wanted to spend more time around him. He was at least a good ten years older than her and way nerdy. Willow could call it geek chic all she wanted, but the boy was lame. Adorably lame, but lame.
"Miss Summers?"
Really freakin' adorable.
"Yeah, David, I'm okay. Thanks." She felt a little thrill when he shyly patted her shoulder and the Paris girls gave her snotty looks. "I'm just not any better at reading or speaking Chinese or whatever than I was two days ago."
"I speak several Asian languages," he informed her in that prim Wesley way.
"Well, if you could go with me on my visions, we'd be all good," she replied with a small smile.
David's face brightened. "Ah, that is an idea. I shall speak to the others."
Dawn blinked at him a few times while she absorbed that, then nodded. He went rushing up the stairs and Dawn leaned against a wall. Taking someone with her on the visions. Would they be occupying the same body? That seemed kinda... intimate.
She realized that Amanda was staring at her. She licked her lips. "Is there anymore water?"
Amanda gave her a knowing look. "I'll go find something to cool you off."
---------
It was Friday again already. Six weeks into the semester. Six weeks of Friday afternoon happy hour at The Bronze. She heaved herself up onto one of the few empty stools and nodded at Devon, who brought her a pint without asking.
"We're playing tomorrow night. Just in case you're around. Different sound than we had when we were the Dingoes, you know."
"Sounds cool," she replied noncommittally.
"You ever hear from Oz?"
Some wounds never quite healed. "No. Never."
Devon wandered over to help some other customers and Willow gave a sigh of relief. By Fridays she was too wrung out to keep up a friendly, casual conversation. Days spent with the intricacies of digital logic and Schrodinger's equation and nights trying to decipher demon riddles with David. Her brain hurt.
Seeing Tara stroll in with Gemma wasn't exactly a soothing balm either. Still, she waved gamely and traded weary smiles with her ex-girlfriend. True to her word, she was
friendly and cool when they all got together at The Magic Box. She was polite in public. It didn't make her heart any less broken, but at least she wasn't wearing it on her sleeve.
It was exactly the kind of thing she would have talked about with Buffy, if things weren't so weird between them now -- how did you thank someone who had rescued you from your own mess like that? -- or Xander, except that there was no Xander anymore. Someday, Willow hoped anyway, that would stop feeling like a fresh discovery. As it was, every time that thought crossed her mind, it seemed just as astonishing and wrenching as it had been the minute she'd seen his bloody body in Buffy's arms.
Tara and Gemma were giggling, leaning into each other the way lovers did. She forced herself not to stare at them; she kept her eyes trained on the television over the bar instead. Then she felt a more genuine smile coming on as she felt someone slip into the seat next to her.
"Fancy meeting you here," she teased.
Faith nodded in greeting and waved Devon over. "What can I say, Herm. Got a
crush on you," she said in that disconcerting tone that Willow never could interpret. Was she messing with her?
"Whatever," Willow sighed. She downed the rest of her drink. "I guess us murdering bitches have to stay together."
Faith blinked at her, then grinned. "Damn, girl. When did you get so hard?"
Willow looked at her glass and started it rotating in a slow circle. "Ignore me. I'm in a mood."
"Well, let's get you another drink. Get you in a better mood." Faith waved at Devon with one hand while the other landed on the small of Willow's back. Willow watched as Faith slammed back a shot of whatever she was drinking. Then her hand moved lower, fingers sliding under the waistband of her skirt.
God, she sucked at this kind of thing, the flirting and the signals. Was Faith just jerking her around? Did she think it was funny? They didn't even like each other, did they? You know what? Screw it!
Willow grabbed a hank of Faith's stupid hair and laid one on her. And, Faith responded by returning the kiss just as fiercely and stuffing her hand farther down to squeeze Willow's ass. It just kept going and Willow felt a little spinney, and then there were a bunch of guys hooting. Faith pulled back, tossed some money on the table, and said, "Let's get out of here."
She couldn't help it; she glanced back to see Tara's astonished expression, and damn if that didn't make it even better. On the sidewalk Faith reeled her in again, and it was so weird that Faith, Faith, was making her feel all flushed and overheated. The streetlights were just starting to flicker on and the orange sunset behind Faith seemed to set her on fire. They stumbled along silently through the empty parking lot of Faith's apartment complex, like speaking would break the spell. And it might have, if something else hadn't happened first.
"Hey! Was there a prison break or something?"
Willow felt her entire body go stiff and cold. "Fuck off, asshole," Faith replied, tugging at Willow's arm.
"Oh god," Willow managed. "Warren."
"Good to see you too, bitch."
Faith was no longer pulling her, her hand now gone tight around Willow's arm like she was holding her up. Willow was vaguely aware that she might have fallen otherwise. "You're dead."
"Doesn't always stick around here, does it?" He grinned at her. His legs stepped forward, but the upper half of his body stayed where it was, dripping gore. "But yeah, I'm dead."
"I fucking hate this town," Faith whispered.
Warren clapped his hands to keep time while his legs performed a peppy dance around his floating torso. Willow felt sick. "What are you?"
The thing that looked like Warren grinned. "Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am and always have been, I am the First. Beyond sin, beyond death. I am the thing the darkness fears. You'll never see me, but I am everywhere. Every being, every thought,
every drop of hate."
Willow felt strangely relieved. "Oh, well, I won't be killing myself, so could you just, you know, move along?"
It laughed. "Ah, but I wanted to thank you. You opened the door."
"What?!" Willow lurched forward, but the thing just stepped through her and disappeared. There was a buzzing in her head and then blackness.
---------
Buffy stretched her arms over her head and ran her eyes down her body to her feet, one of which was cupped in Spike's grip as he carefully applied Argenteeny Pinkini to her toes. "You so saw this in Cosmo, didn't you?"
"Way you leave your little girly rags spilling off every flat surface in the place, thought it was a hint, pet."
She rolled her eyes and fingered the necklace he'd clapped around her neck. There was absolutely nowhere she could wear such an ornate thing, but Spike seemed to like it worn on its own. He was big on the gift-giving lately. Which reminded her, "I got my first paycheck from the Council today."
Spike nodded in acknowledgement and dipped the brush back in the bottle.
"So, you can tell me what I owe you for my half."
"Your half?"
"Yeah, my half of, you know, the rent and utilities and stuff."
He frowned at her. "Don't be daft."
She propped herself up on her elbows. "I'm not being daft. I live here, don't I? I'm on the lease, I use water and power; I should be paying."
"Not taking your money," he scoffed. He twisted the lid back on the bottle and sat back to look her over.
"I don't need you supporting me," she protested.
"Not about what you need, Buffy. It's my home and I want you in it. You don't have to pay me for that."
"I thought this was our home?" she objected. She suddenly really didn't like where this is going.
"It is." He massaged her heel, storm clouds across his face.
Buffy sighed and tugged at her necklace. "I don't want to be your... kept woman, okay? That's not me."
"You're not," he insisted.
"What am I then?"
Spike looked desperate for a cigarette. Or something to kill. He kissed her instep. "My girl, my mistress."
"Oh, well that's better," she replied caustically. Like that wasn't the exact same thing. "When my toes dry, I am so kicking your ass!"
"Not like that, love." He sighed and slouched against the foot board.
"Like what then?" She tried to think of any possible other meaning for mistress. "Like you're my pet?" He shrugged. "Okay, first of all, that's gross. Second of all, if that were true, I should be taking care of you."
"You do take care of me," he muttered, suddenly all sex eyes again. "Quite well, matter of fact. And, as I recollect, you're somewhat fond of yanking my collars or clapping me in chains." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Buffy," he breathed in that coaxing tone that was so hard to resist. "The interest off the Gem of Amara haul is more than enough dosh for this. Use yours for whatever you like."
"What I'd like is to contribute, Spike."
He rolled his eyes up, like he was appealing to heaven for help. "Could do with some new furniture in this place."
Maybe he was putting her off, but it was also true. The bed was in pretty good shape, considering how much daily abuse it got. But the other furniture from his crypt was pretty ratty. Plus it smelled like it had been underground for years. "Okay, I'll take care of it," she agreed.
He guided her legs up over his shoulders. "We done fighting then?" he asked, with the quirked eyebrow and a tongue roll.
It had been almost a year that they'd been together, if you counted the summer gap. It seemed like she should be getting over this constant hunger. It was embarrassing the way he could get her so hot just by making a face. "Buffy," he whispered against her thigh, hands pushing her chemise up out of the way. "You're my own girl, my pretty thing, my fierce mistress..." He stopped kissing his way up her leg to look at her. "But you own me, love. I'm your own, your--"
"Concubine. The word you're looking for, it's concubine."
Buffy looked over Spike's shoulder and felt him yank the covers over her exposed body.
"Nothing I haven't seen before."
"Angel? How did you get in here?" Okay, she thought, that was a stupid thing to ask, but she hadn't invited him in, and she was pretty sure Spike hadn't.
"What, William? Not going to ask me to join you? You know, sometimes I do miss that mouth of yours."
Buffy felt an intense urge to throw herself between the two of them, but instead she just sat up and started feeling behind the headboard for a stake. Angelus was in her home somehow. She felt lightheaded and leaden at the same time.
Spike's hand brushed her arm. "It's not him," he said quietly. "It's some sort of phantom."
The thing that looked like Angel smiled at her. "We've met before. I don't think I can talk this one into a noble death though."
She forced herself to breath normally. Knowing what she was dealing with wasn't making her feel that much better, under the circumstances. No way this thing was back just for kicks. "Fine. Kudos. You're still really creepy. But you're all talk. Get lost."
"Not anymore, lover. I just wanted to say thanks for that."
Then, it just wasn't there anymore and she had a fun new puzzle to solve. Just great.
"Mind explaining what the bleeding fuck just happened?"
"That thing, that was---" She clutched her head as something seemed to screech inside her skull. Help me, help, helphelphelp.
"Christ," Spike muttered. "I'd forgotten she could do that."
"You heard it too?" Buffy asked, feeling dazed.
"Willow. Used to do it all the time that summer you were gone." He was up, throwing clothes at her and putting on his boots. "Doubt she even knew she was doing it. Sounded panicked."
She pulled the shirt on. "We have to find her. Like, now."
"I think I can track her."
Buffy frowned, slightly unsettled that Spike was that familiar with Willow's scent. Her cell phone rang. She fastened her pants while she talked to Faith. "Come on. They're at Memorial Hospital."
He nodded. "Any chance you'll tell me what the hell is going on?"
She had to give him a wry smile for that. Her good little soldier. She knew he'd follow her whether she gave him the 411 or not. "I'll explain on the way."
-----------
See, actual plot here, as promised ;)
I also have a new post-Chosen short up on my lj: Hello, Iowa on msclawdia.livejournal.com
It’s Spuffy-adjacent with neither of them in the action, so I’m not sure I can post it here. Please read and comment; it’s darker than I normally go.
Nesting
Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar for the beta job on this larger-than-usual chapter. Thanks to zanthinegirl for giving it an extra run through. And as always, thanks to my readers and reviewers for support and encouragement. Also: this chapter contains some themes and viewpoints with which I know some of my readers will disagree. I’ve touched on some of these topics before in my fic, and I hope this will answer the questions some folks have been asking me without detracting from the story. Feedback is always appreciated, and now, on the with the show…
In our seventh installment the girls get a lesson in vampire psychology, Buffy frets about the First and buys furniture, Faith considers what’s going on with Willow, and Anya comes home.
Chapter Seven: Nesting
Dawn took a seat next to Amanda and pulled a notebook out of her backpack. She’d missed the beginning of Spike’s little talk, but at least she’d finished taking inventory in the stock room in time for the Q and A. Dawn settled in, uncapped her pen, and giggled at Amanda’s notebook. In her perfect penmanship was noted that it was the second Tuesday in November. Above that, she’d written Interview with the Vampire, or Spike tells us why vamps suck.
Spike was perched on the counter, waiting for one of the girls around the research table to find the guts to ask a question. Octavia was the first to speak up, as usual. “So, you just wake up all ‘must have blood’ or what?”
“Wake up hungry, yeah. Human body is often most convenient to come by after rising. But it’s not just the blood a vampire’s hungry for.” Spike frowned, opened his mouth, then frowned again. “Vampire’s got a demon in him,” Spike went on, staring right at her. “Some stronger than others, some wickeder than others, but that’s irrelevant. Demon wants more than plasma. Vampires can live on any mammal, even avian blood will do in a pinch.”
“So why do you eat people? Isn't being on the pig's blood diet less work? Why not just start out that way?” Connie asked, looking a little ill.
Spike took a deep breath, and Dawn could almost see him girding himself with his badass attitude. “Because cups of pig swill do not tremble and beg for mercy.”
“That’s revolting,” Yvonne pointed out.
“Hello, they’re demons,” Amanda pointed out. “What did you think they did it for?” She tapped her pen against her notebook. “I mean, it’s got to be easier to just, like, retire to the country and raise sheep or something, right?”
“Some do,” Spike acknowledged, “but very few.”
“Because humans taste better?” Solana asked.
“We’re more fun to hunt. And we fight back. The demon craves violence. Isn’t that what you said during your lecture?”
“Very good, Octavia.” Spike lit a cigarette and ignore Deirdre’s wrinkled nose. “The demon hears your little girly heart beating, knows there’s powerful blood brimming underneath your skin, and doesn’t care that you’re someone’s love or daughter or mother. Or sometimes the demon does care, and that’s why he’s picked you.”
“That is supremely fucked up.”
“Language, Octavia!” David objected. Dawn smirked. He was so cute. Diane and Anil just kept taking notes, eyes flitting around from girl to girl as they jotted things down. Dawn wondered whether it was the slayers or Spike they were taking notes on.
“There is a theory, you see,” David went on, “that the vampire has no super-ego. Possibly this is the dominion of the soul, and once the host’s soul has fled you are left with the id of the demon and the ego of the host. With no pressure to follow societal norms, the id is given nearly free rein, colored by the experience and tendencies of the host.”
“That was helpful,” Deirdre chimed in with an eye-roll, gum-snap combo.
“No, I get that,” Connie said softly. “It’s like… that girl who used to talk shit about you in the fifth grade, or the teacher who accused you of cheating, or whatever. We all have those thoughts, right? Like, I could just kill her. And then if you become a vampire, you do it. Someone looks at you cross-eyed, and bam! You know it’s bad, but you don’t have any reason to care anymore.”
“You are familiar with Freud?” Yvette asked, in a way that made it clear she was suspicious of Connie’s input.
“Sounds about right to me,” Spike put in.
“So if I have this right,” Amanda chimed in. “You said the vampire’s instinct is to hunt and kill, and humans are, what, the tastiest thing on the menu?”
“No, love, you are the best thing on the menu.” He took a long drag. “I think that’s enough for one evening, ladies.”
“Why?” Deirdre drawled. “We making you hungry?”
Spike sneered at her. “Something like that, yeah.”
The other girls gathered their books and disbursed, chatting and laughing, comparing notes. Solana and Deirdre went home with Diane, Anil took the twins, and Amanda went home to her parents. Connie and Octavia went down to the training room for one last sparring match under David’s supervision. Dawn waited until they were all elsewhere to talk to Spike. “I know that was no fun.”
Spike snorted at her. “Well, need to know, don’t they? Can’t have them thinking vampires are just following the natural order. Nothing natural about vampires and worrying whether the newly risen fiend in the graveyard would happily bed down on an isolated meadow somewhere is going to get them killed.” He fingered another cigarette, but didn’t light it. “And I intend to keep them alive, long as I can.”
Dawn smiled at him. “I know you do.”
David was so quiet coming up the stairs that Dawn nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke. “Ah, Dawn, you’re still here. I think I may have a theory on how I can help you with your visions.”
“Great!” She was still nervous about sharing the visions, but it had been weeks and she was still no closer to finding the girl.
He blinked at her and ducked his head. “I am sorry for staring. You are such a lovely girl.”
Dawn felt a little stunned. And thrilled. “Um, thank you.”
“You quite remind me of my sister.”
It felt like someone had let all the air out of her. She just nodded and kept her smile pasted on while he explained about the ritual. When he’d gone she allowed herself to flop down in a chair and bang her head on the table.
Spike petted her hair. “Come on, Bit. I’d have to kill him anyway, far too old for you. Let’s get you home.”
----------
Buffy took a deep breath as she absorbed Giles’s story. “Okay, so what you’re telling me is that the seer who was griping about the balance being off and evil finding a way in, was all visioning ahead of schedule or whatever?”
Giles cleaned his glasses furiously. “Indeed.”
“See, this is why I hate prophecies and visions and all that crap. So it’s my fault. I upset the balance when I had Willow do the activator spell.”
“Buffy, you were hardly alone in making that decision. I still believe it was the right one, even if the First has taken advantage.”
She kicked the table leg, which was a bad idea. The kitchen table in the apartment was barely holding together. They almost never used it, not for eating anyway, so it didn’t matter. With a few paychecks in her account, she could finally afford to get some decent furniture for him and a dinette set that was less structurally challenged was high on the list.
“Those two dead girls last summer, were they even really Potentials? Or did It just kill them to draw me out?”
Giles sighed. “We have no way of knowing, but if I’m following you, your theory seems sound enough. Yes, I dare say it is entirely possible that he had his minions kill those girls to spur you into activating the potentials.”
More blood on her hands then. Buffy drew her fingers through her hair. “So what does It want?” Besides the joy of torturing her. Their best guess, backed up by the Chronicles, was that It could look like dead people. Which explained Warren and Angel. It didn’t explain how it had blown Willow’s circuits. Tara’s theory was that Willow had been briefly possessed, filled up with the First just long enough to make her really sick. Willow couldn’t hold an evil like that inside her for long. Which was weirdly the most encouraging thing Buffy had heard about Willow in a long time. Considering that her best friend was now a killer who sometimes made out with Faith.
God, she hated thinking about her friends that way, and it still felt like Faith had stolen Willow. Which was so unfair. Buffy had been avoiding Willow. It felt weird being a duo instead of a trio. Not that the two of them hadn’t spent time as a pair when Xander was alive, but now that he was gone being with Willow felt… unbalanced, like the first time you try a big-kid bike after your tricycle.
It didn’t help that she was obsessing on what the First had said to Spike either. And, that mouth thing had totally been directed at Spike, no matter what he said. Spike wanted her to leave it, and she had to admit that probably he was right.
As if conjured up by her thoughts, she heard his keys in the door. He and Giles exchanged greetings and she leaned back so he could kiss her. "That tea?" he asked, gesturing to the cups on the table.
"Yeah. I'll make you a cup," she offered. She knew it had been a rough night for him. He wasn't as chipper telling his bloody stories to impressionable young women as he used to be.
"You sit, love. I'll let you two have your chat." He took a mug down from the cabinet. "Votre mère vous prendra des achats de meubles après classe demain."
Buffy sighed and closed her eyes. "Mom is doing something with me tomorrow? After class." She waited, but he just nodded, all unhelpful. "What's meubles?"
"Furniture," Giles chimed in.
So Mom was taking her furniture shopping. "Any other messages from home?"
Spike made a face and shook his head, then took his tea into the living room. She could hear him flipping channels and knew he was sulking.
"Is he alright?" Giles asked.
She shook her head. "The First really freaked us both out. He'll deal." Buffy turned her attention back to Giles. "So, how do we find out what It wants?"
Giles rubbed his temples. "I wish I could illuminate that, Buffy. Our hope might lie in Its tendency to taunt Its enemies. As alarming as those run-ins may be, they may give us insight into Its plans."
"So, we're hoping it's chatty like a Bond villain? I think we need more plan than that."
Giles gave her a wry smile. "I'll be working on that," he assured her.
She gave him a quick hug at the door. She was hugging more. She'd never been big with the physical affection and after she came back from the grave she'd barely touched anyone but Spike. Loosing Xander had made her so aware though that every moment might be the last. So she'd become more huggy.
Alone with Spike, she curled up on the sagging couch with him. "You okay?" He didn't answer, just wrapped an arm around her. She straddled his lap and grabbed up the remote to shut off the TV. Buffy traced his lips with her finger. His mouth was hers, no matter what he used to do with it. His mouth and hands and cock, the whole thing. She didn't care, not really, about his sexual past. "You're mine now, you know that? You belong to me alone."
The words sounded slightly absurd to her ears, and she never would have said something like that to a human boyfriend. But she'd spent enough time squeezing him between her thighs while he begged her to make those kinds of statements to know how much he liked it.
So the haunted look started to retreat from his face and he relaxed into the cushions under her. He pressed his face into her hand and pulled on the waistband of her pants to bring her into closer contact with him. "Remind me," he growled.
Buffy found the drawer in the end table by memory and pulled out the handcuff. The way his eyes went dark and his body went obediently limp under hers at the tell-tale clinking sent a jolt of warmth and power through her. They were going to give the old furniture a thorough send-off.
-------
Joyce could hear the music rising up the stairs to meet her. She felt a wave of odd old memories as the beat pounded on. I've been waiting so long, to be where I'm going. She half expected the door to be opened by a rumple-haired Brit in a ratty t-shirt with a cigarette in his teeth.
And then that happened, which threw her for a moment. Ripper, she thought to herself idly.
"You alright, Joyce?"
Joyce tried to clear her head of the faintly disturbing thought that she and her daughter had the same taste in men. "I'm sorry, Spike. The music..."
"Too loud?" he asked, moving aside to let her pass into the apartment.
She shook her head to clear it. "No, it's just amazing how music is tied to memory."
He turned it off anyway, and put out the cigarette for good measure. She could tell he was working to be on his best behavior, the same way he was at Sunday dinners. Dawn always teased him about it, how he suddenly remembered all his Victorian manners when he sat down at the table and promptly forgot them as soon as he was out the door.
Buffy came hopping out of the bedroom with one boot on and another in her hand. "Almost ready!" she blurted. Spike disappeared into the bathroom, which distracted Joyce from the obvious fact that they'd clearly been in bed together moments before. Did vampires have the sort of bodily functions that required a bathroom?
In the car Buffy was going on in a bouncy way about classes and training and the girls. Couldn't they have them over for Thanksgiving, except for Deirdre whose parents were flying her home and wasn't it unfortunate that they'd have to invite the French twins too since they were so irritating and probably didn't give a damn about an American holiday anyway.
Buffy did seem happier, she had to admit. She was doing well in school, she was planning for at least the near future, and she seemed enthusiastic about training the new girls. If playing house with a vampire was keeping her mind out of the grave, as contradictory as that seemed, Joyce would keep her peace. She realized Buffy had asked a question, and the question was "Is this weird?", and considering that the answer to that was almost certainly yes, Joyce decided to answer with a question herself.
"Is what weird, sweetie?"
"This. Me." Joyce felt her hands strangling the steering wheel. "There's some big evil on the horizon and I'm picking out occasional tables."
Joyce relaxed. "You're doing all you can, aren't you? This... thing, whatever it wants, doesn't change the fact that you desperately need a new sofa."
Buffy slumped against the passenger door. "Our living room is pretty sad isn't it? I just hate to think I'm sending some dumb 'when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping' message to the girls, you know?" She tapped her nails on the glass. "I mean, I think I send enough mixed messages with the whole 'we kill vampires, except for the one I'm living with' thing."
Joyce smirked at her daughter. "I think they understand the distinction." She pulled into the parking lot and felt Buffy's hand on hers as she put the car in park.
"I appreciate you doing this, Mom. I know you're not thrilled about the whole situation."
She smiled, but didn't say anything. Not thrilled was a mild way to describe it.
“We’re really good though.”
“Uh huh.”
“We are.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you, sweetie.”
Buffy gave her a suspicious look but let it drop in favor of staring at the sea of furniture in front of them. Her daughter seemed overwhelmed. Joyce sighed and patted a nice, moderately-priced beige loveseat. "Something like this maybe?"
Buffy poked at it. "I don't know. How hard would it be to get blood stains out of the fabric?"
Joyce took a deep breath and steeled herself. It was going to be a long afternoon.
-----------
She had no idea what she was doing. Faith had just left Willow's dorm room, and she wasn't entirely sure whether they'd had sex or not. There had been a lot of touching and some seriously satisfying climaxing, and she was pretty sure Willow had done something magical there at the end. Like actual magic, not romance novel magic. But she wasn't sure it was sex.
Faith hadn't planned on getting involved with Willow. It was all so surreal. She wasn't into girls and if she'd wanted to explore that option it seemed like something she should have done while she was locked up with a bunch of females, not after. Not to mention the fact that Willow annoyed the shit out of her, all wishy-washy and weepy. Except when she was fierce. When she was fierce she was pretty amazing, which was easier to appreciate now that they were on the same side.
She stuck around for a little while to answer questions for Buffy, not that she could tell her much. And, for some reason she'd made herself watch while Tara and Willow held hands and chanted, even though it gave her an unpleasant violent feeling. She'd bailed to go fight something and figured she'd maybe run into Willow again next Friday.
But then Willow called and asked if she could pick her up from the hospital. Faith hadn't planned on being wanted like that or on rubbing her shoulders when Willow said she was "all head-achy" or taking Willow's shirt off. But once it happened, it seemed like a good idea.
Faith lit a cigarette and looked around furtively. She could have sworn there was some squirrelly blond guy following her lately, but she'd never caught more than little glances of him, so it could just be coincidence. Except that she was in Sunnydale. Maybe it was just her overactive imagination. She was always extra jumpy, ever since that CO had knifed her. She had matching scars on either side now.
Inside her little studio apartment she toed off her boots and drank some water to try to clear her head of post-orgasmic haze. It was late though, and she'd had a long couple days. She went through her nightly routine, and like every night it took her a few minutes to realize she'd have to turn off the lights herself. It was strange how prison life stayed with you. Months of freedom and she was still tense all the time, waiting for someone to bark an order.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in the old Sunnydale High library. Only it was empty of books and full of crates marked ‘Caution’. There was also a giant green lizard curled among them. She sat on a table and folded her hands over the top of the axe.
“Gosh, that’s a nifty gizmo you’ve got there, Faith.”
“Thanks, boss.” She crossed her legs, feeling exposed in the pink floral dress.
“I think of what you've done, what I know you will do... You’ll always have me, firecracker. I’ll always be with you.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know.”
“Hey.”
Buffy was behind her. She turned and watched as Buffy held out her hand. Faith started to hand the axe over, but Buffy frowned and shook her head. “Come on, we can’t be late,” she huffed as she grabbed Faith’s empty hand. The sleeves of their red gowns overlapped, making them look conjoined for a moment.
The tassel from Faith's cap bounced off her eye as they hurried down an endless hall full of lockers. One of them shook and rattled and Faith stopped to stare at it. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed. There was light streaming through the grates and the metal was warm to the touch. She tugged at the lock. “I can’t get it open.”
Buffy was pouting at her. “I thought you were ready, Faith. This is your day.”
“I am, but… I think I need this.” She looked up and down the empty halls. The axe glimmered in the light filtering. Colors danced across the blade. “Don’t you want to know what’s inside?”
The older slayer sighed. "Not really. I've already done this once. We need to go." She pointed at the clock over the double doors at the end of the hall.
"That clock is totally wrong," Faith sighed, spinning the dial on the Masterlock.
“We can get the combination from the principal later. We have to go,” Buffy insisted.
“Damn, B. Alright. I’m coming.”
“I’m coming already,” she repeated, realizing that she was awake and that someone was banging on the door. She blinked her eyes and tried to pull herself together.
Willow was on the other side of the door, head ducked, looking mega embarrassed. “I woke you up,” she moaned. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t--”
She grinned at the witch. “Well, you’re here now. So come in already.”
This time she’d just up and ask Willow whether what they did was sex or not.
---------
Dear Xander,
I am home for the holidays. Now that David and Dawn have found the lost Chinese slayer, a local Watcher has been dispatched. Which is just as well since the language barrier would be a problem in training her with the other girls. Dawn hasn’t had any more visions, so I’m back in Sunnydale for the foreseeable future.
Isn’t it amazing how little of the future is really foreseeable?
The new Watchers are terrible salespeople. At least Giles and Dawn managed to keep us in the black. That Dawn is really something. She put this potted plant on your grave while I was gone, so now there’s ivy trailing over the headstone. It’s attractive and far more economical than fresh flowers.
Joyce is having us all for Thanksgiving. I think I might try baking a pie. You always liked my pies. I miss you.
She crumpled the letter and wiped away a few tears. It was too breezy to burn the paper, so she put it in her pocket to take care of later. The sun was low in the sky, casting orange and purple shades across the markers. Anya missed Xander, but she wasn’t quite ready to join him yet, so she pulled his old flannel shirt tight across her chest and made her way out of the cemetery before the sun set.
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I’m drafting the next chapter already. I will be out of town next week for the holiday, so I am not sure when the next post will be, but I’ll be writing while I’m away. Thanks for reading!
In our seventh installment the girls get a lesson in vampire psychology, Buffy frets about the First and buys furniture, Faith considers what’s going on with Willow, and Anya comes home.
Chapter Seven: Nesting
Dawn took a seat next to Amanda and pulled a notebook out of her backpack. She’d missed the beginning of Spike’s little talk, but at least she’d finished taking inventory in the stock room in time for the Q and A. Dawn settled in, uncapped her pen, and giggled at Amanda’s notebook. In her perfect penmanship was noted that it was the second Tuesday in November. Above that, she’d written Interview with the Vampire, or Spike tells us why vamps suck.
Spike was perched on the counter, waiting for one of the girls around the research table to find the guts to ask a question. Octavia was the first to speak up, as usual. “So, you just wake up all ‘must have blood’ or what?”
“Wake up hungry, yeah. Human body is often most convenient to come by after rising. But it’s not just the blood a vampire’s hungry for.” Spike frowned, opened his mouth, then frowned again. “Vampire’s got a demon in him,” Spike went on, staring right at her. “Some stronger than others, some wickeder than others, but that’s irrelevant. Demon wants more than plasma. Vampires can live on any mammal, even avian blood will do in a pinch.”
“So why do you eat people? Isn't being on the pig's blood diet less work? Why not just start out that way?” Connie asked, looking a little ill.
Spike took a deep breath, and Dawn could almost see him girding himself with his badass attitude. “Because cups of pig swill do not tremble and beg for mercy.”
“That’s revolting,” Yvonne pointed out.
“Hello, they’re demons,” Amanda pointed out. “What did you think they did it for?” She tapped her pen against her notebook. “I mean, it’s got to be easier to just, like, retire to the country and raise sheep or something, right?”
“Some do,” Spike acknowledged, “but very few.”
“Because humans taste better?” Solana asked.
“We’re more fun to hunt. And we fight back. The demon craves violence. Isn’t that what you said during your lecture?”
“Very good, Octavia.” Spike lit a cigarette and ignore Deirdre’s wrinkled nose. “The demon hears your little girly heart beating, knows there’s powerful blood brimming underneath your skin, and doesn’t care that you’re someone’s love or daughter or mother. Or sometimes the demon does care, and that’s why he’s picked you.”
“That is supremely fucked up.”
“Language, Octavia!” David objected. Dawn smirked. He was so cute. Diane and Anil just kept taking notes, eyes flitting around from girl to girl as they jotted things down. Dawn wondered whether it was the slayers or Spike they were taking notes on.
“There is a theory, you see,” David went on, “that the vampire has no super-ego. Possibly this is the dominion of the soul, and once the host’s soul has fled you are left with the id of the demon and the ego of the host. With no pressure to follow societal norms, the id is given nearly free rein, colored by the experience and tendencies of the host.”
“That was helpful,” Deirdre chimed in with an eye-roll, gum-snap combo.
“No, I get that,” Connie said softly. “It’s like… that girl who used to talk shit about you in the fifth grade, or the teacher who accused you of cheating, or whatever. We all have those thoughts, right? Like, I could just kill her. And then if you become a vampire, you do it. Someone looks at you cross-eyed, and bam! You know it’s bad, but you don’t have any reason to care anymore.”
“You are familiar with Freud?” Yvette asked, in a way that made it clear she was suspicious of Connie’s input.
“Sounds about right to me,” Spike put in.
“So if I have this right,” Amanda chimed in. “You said the vampire’s instinct is to hunt and kill, and humans are, what, the tastiest thing on the menu?”
“No, love, you are the best thing on the menu.” He took a long drag. “I think that’s enough for one evening, ladies.”
“Why?” Deirdre drawled. “We making you hungry?”
Spike sneered at her. “Something like that, yeah.”
The other girls gathered their books and disbursed, chatting and laughing, comparing notes. Solana and Deirdre went home with Diane, Anil took the twins, and Amanda went home to her parents. Connie and Octavia went down to the training room for one last sparring match under David’s supervision. Dawn waited until they were all elsewhere to talk to Spike. “I know that was no fun.”
Spike snorted at her. “Well, need to know, don’t they? Can’t have them thinking vampires are just following the natural order. Nothing natural about vampires and worrying whether the newly risen fiend in the graveyard would happily bed down on an isolated meadow somewhere is going to get them killed.” He fingered another cigarette, but didn’t light it. “And I intend to keep them alive, long as I can.”
Dawn smiled at him. “I know you do.”
David was so quiet coming up the stairs that Dawn nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke. “Ah, Dawn, you’re still here. I think I may have a theory on how I can help you with your visions.”
“Great!” She was still nervous about sharing the visions, but it had been weeks and she was still no closer to finding the girl.
He blinked at her and ducked his head. “I am sorry for staring. You are such a lovely girl.”
Dawn felt a little stunned. And thrilled. “Um, thank you.”
“You quite remind me of my sister.”
It felt like someone had let all the air out of her. She just nodded and kept her smile pasted on while he explained about the ritual. When he’d gone she allowed herself to flop down in a chair and bang her head on the table.
Spike petted her hair. “Come on, Bit. I’d have to kill him anyway, far too old for you. Let’s get you home.”
----------
Buffy took a deep breath as she absorbed Giles’s story. “Okay, so what you’re telling me is that the seer who was griping about the balance being off and evil finding a way in, was all visioning ahead of schedule or whatever?”
Giles cleaned his glasses furiously. “Indeed.”
“See, this is why I hate prophecies and visions and all that crap. So it’s my fault. I upset the balance when I had Willow do the activator spell.”
“Buffy, you were hardly alone in making that decision. I still believe it was the right one, even if the First has taken advantage.”
She kicked the table leg, which was a bad idea. The kitchen table in the apartment was barely holding together. They almost never used it, not for eating anyway, so it didn’t matter. With a few paychecks in her account, she could finally afford to get some decent furniture for him and a dinette set that was less structurally challenged was high on the list.
“Those two dead girls last summer, were they even really Potentials? Or did It just kill them to draw me out?”
Giles sighed. “We have no way of knowing, but if I’m following you, your theory seems sound enough. Yes, I dare say it is entirely possible that he had his minions kill those girls to spur you into activating the potentials.”
More blood on her hands then. Buffy drew her fingers through her hair. “So what does It want?” Besides the joy of torturing her. Their best guess, backed up by the Chronicles, was that It could look like dead people. Which explained Warren and Angel. It didn’t explain how it had blown Willow’s circuits. Tara’s theory was that Willow had been briefly possessed, filled up with the First just long enough to make her really sick. Willow couldn’t hold an evil like that inside her for long. Which was weirdly the most encouraging thing Buffy had heard about Willow in a long time. Considering that her best friend was now a killer who sometimes made out with Faith.
God, she hated thinking about her friends that way, and it still felt like Faith had stolen Willow. Which was so unfair. Buffy had been avoiding Willow. It felt weird being a duo instead of a trio. Not that the two of them hadn’t spent time as a pair when Xander was alive, but now that he was gone being with Willow felt… unbalanced, like the first time you try a big-kid bike after your tricycle.
It didn’t help that she was obsessing on what the First had said to Spike either. And, that mouth thing had totally been directed at Spike, no matter what he said. Spike wanted her to leave it, and she had to admit that probably he was right.
As if conjured up by her thoughts, she heard his keys in the door. He and Giles exchanged greetings and she leaned back so he could kiss her. "That tea?" he asked, gesturing to the cups on the table.
"Yeah. I'll make you a cup," she offered. She knew it had been a rough night for him. He wasn't as chipper telling his bloody stories to impressionable young women as he used to be.
"You sit, love. I'll let you two have your chat." He took a mug down from the cabinet. "Votre mère vous prendra des achats de meubles après classe demain."
Buffy sighed and closed her eyes. "Mom is doing something with me tomorrow? After class." She waited, but he just nodded, all unhelpful. "What's meubles?"
"Furniture," Giles chimed in.
So Mom was taking her furniture shopping. "Any other messages from home?"
Spike made a face and shook his head, then took his tea into the living room. She could hear him flipping channels and knew he was sulking.
"Is he alright?" Giles asked.
She shook her head. "The First really freaked us both out. He'll deal." Buffy turned her attention back to Giles. "So, how do we find out what It wants?"
Giles rubbed his temples. "I wish I could illuminate that, Buffy. Our hope might lie in Its tendency to taunt Its enemies. As alarming as those run-ins may be, they may give us insight into Its plans."
"So, we're hoping it's chatty like a Bond villain? I think we need more plan than that."
Giles gave her a wry smile. "I'll be working on that," he assured her.
She gave him a quick hug at the door. She was hugging more. She'd never been big with the physical affection and after she came back from the grave she'd barely touched anyone but Spike. Loosing Xander had made her so aware though that every moment might be the last. So she'd become more huggy.
Alone with Spike, she curled up on the sagging couch with him. "You okay?" He didn't answer, just wrapped an arm around her. She straddled his lap and grabbed up the remote to shut off the TV. Buffy traced his lips with her finger. His mouth was hers, no matter what he used to do with it. His mouth and hands and cock, the whole thing. She didn't care, not really, about his sexual past. "You're mine now, you know that? You belong to me alone."
The words sounded slightly absurd to her ears, and she never would have said something like that to a human boyfriend. But she'd spent enough time squeezing him between her thighs while he begged her to make those kinds of statements to know how much he liked it.
So the haunted look started to retreat from his face and he relaxed into the cushions under her. He pressed his face into her hand and pulled on the waistband of her pants to bring her into closer contact with him. "Remind me," he growled.
Buffy found the drawer in the end table by memory and pulled out the handcuff. The way his eyes went dark and his body went obediently limp under hers at the tell-tale clinking sent a jolt of warmth and power through her. They were going to give the old furniture a thorough send-off.
-------
Joyce could hear the music rising up the stairs to meet her. She felt a wave of odd old memories as the beat pounded on. I've been waiting so long, to be where I'm going. She half expected the door to be opened by a rumple-haired Brit in a ratty t-shirt with a cigarette in his teeth.
And then that happened, which threw her for a moment. Ripper, she thought to herself idly.
"You alright, Joyce?"
Joyce tried to clear her head of the faintly disturbing thought that she and her daughter had the same taste in men. "I'm sorry, Spike. The music..."
"Too loud?" he asked, moving aside to let her pass into the apartment.
She shook her head to clear it. "No, it's just amazing how music is tied to memory."
He turned it off anyway, and put out the cigarette for good measure. She could tell he was working to be on his best behavior, the same way he was at Sunday dinners. Dawn always teased him about it, how he suddenly remembered all his Victorian manners when he sat down at the table and promptly forgot them as soon as he was out the door.
Buffy came hopping out of the bedroom with one boot on and another in her hand. "Almost ready!" she blurted. Spike disappeared into the bathroom, which distracted Joyce from the obvious fact that they'd clearly been in bed together moments before. Did vampires have the sort of bodily functions that required a bathroom?
In the car Buffy was going on in a bouncy way about classes and training and the girls. Couldn't they have them over for Thanksgiving, except for Deirdre whose parents were flying her home and wasn't it unfortunate that they'd have to invite the French twins too since they were so irritating and probably didn't give a damn about an American holiday anyway.
Buffy did seem happier, she had to admit. She was doing well in school, she was planning for at least the near future, and she seemed enthusiastic about training the new girls. If playing house with a vampire was keeping her mind out of the grave, as contradictory as that seemed, Joyce would keep her peace. She realized Buffy had asked a question, and the question was "Is this weird?", and considering that the answer to that was almost certainly yes, Joyce decided to answer with a question herself.
"Is what weird, sweetie?"
"This. Me." Joyce felt her hands strangling the steering wheel. "There's some big evil on the horizon and I'm picking out occasional tables."
Joyce relaxed. "You're doing all you can, aren't you? This... thing, whatever it wants, doesn't change the fact that you desperately need a new sofa."
Buffy slumped against the passenger door. "Our living room is pretty sad isn't it? I just hate to think I'm sending some dumb 'when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping' message to the girls, you know?" She tapped her nails on the glass. "I mean, I think I send enough mixed messages with the whole 'we kill vampires, except for the one I'm living with' thing."
Joyce smirked at her daughter. "I think they understand the distinction." She pulled into the parking lot and felt Buffy's hand on hers as she put the car in park.
"I appreciate you doing this, Mom. I know you're not thrilled about the whole situation."
She smiled, but didn't say anything. Not thrilled was a mild way to describe it.
“We’re really good though.”
“Uh huh.”
“We are.”
“I’m not disagreeing with you, sweetie.”
Buffy gave her a suspicious look but let it drop in favor of staring at the sea of furniture in front of them. Her daughter seemed overwhelmed. Joyce sighed and patted a nice, moderately-priced beige loveseat. "Something like this maybe?"
Buffy poked at it. "I don't know. How hard would it be to get blood stains out of the fabric?"
Joyce took a deep breath and steeled herself. It was going to be a long afternoon.
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She had no idea what she was doing. Faith had just left Willow's dorm room, and she wasn't entirely sure whether they'd had sex or not. There had been a lot of touching and some seriously satisfying climaxing, and she was pretty sure Willow had done something magical there at the end. Like actual magic, not romance novel magic. But she wasn't sure it was sex.
Faith hadn't planned on getting involved with Willow. It was all so surreal. She wasn't into girls and if she'd wanted to explore that option it seemed like something she should have done while she was locked up with a bunch of females, not after. Not to mention the fact that Willow annoyed the shit out of her, all wishy-washy and weepy. Except when she was fierce. When she was fierce she was pretty amazing, which was easier to appreciate now that they were on the same side.
She stuck around for a little while to answer questions for Buffy, not that she could tell her much. And, for some reason she'd made herself watch while Tara and Willow held hands and chanted, even though it gave her an unpleasant violent feeling. She'd bailed to go fight something and figured she'd maybe run into Willow again next Friday.
But then Willow called and asked if she could pick her up from the hospital. Faith hadn't planned on being wanted like that or on rubbing her shoulders when Willow said she was "all head-achy" or taking Willow's shirt off. But once it happened, it seemed like a good idea.
Faith lit a cigarette and looked around furtively. She could have sworn there was some squirrelly blond guy following her lately, but she'd never caught more than little glances of him, so it could just be coincidence. Except that she was in Sunnydale. Maybe it was just her overactive imagination. She was always extra jumpy, ever since that CO had knifed her. She had matching scars on either side now.
Inside her little studio apartment she toed off her boots and drank some water to try to clear her head of post-orgasmic haze. It was late though, and she'd had a long couple days. She went through her nightly routine, and like every night it took her a few minutes to realize she'd have to turn off the lights herself. It was strange how prison life stayed with you. Months of freedom and she was still tense all the time, waiting for someone to bark an order.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in the old Sunnydale High library. Only it was empty of books and full of crates marked ‘Caution’. There was also a giant green lizard curled among them. She sat on a table and folded her hands over the top of the axe.
“Gosh, that’s a nifty gizmo you’ve got there, Faith.”
“Thanks, boss.” She crossed her legs, feeling exposed in the pink floral dress.
“I think of what you've done, what I know you will do... You’ll always have me, firecracker. I’ll always be with you.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know.”
“Hey.”
Buffy was behind her. She turned and watched as Buffy held out her hand. Faith started to hand the axe over, but Buffy frowned and shook her head. “Come on, we can’t be late,” she huffed as she grabbed Faith’s empty hand. The sleeves of their red gowns overlapped, making them look conjoined for a moment.
The tassel from Faith's cap bounced off her eye as they hurried down an endless hall full of lockers. One of them shook and rattled and Faith stopped to stare at it. “It’s beautiful,” she sighed. There was light streaming through the grates and the metal was warm to the touch. She tugged at the lock. “I can’t get it open.”
Buffy was pouting at her. “I thought you were ready, Faith. This is your day.”
“I am, but… I think I need this.” She looked up and down the empty halls. The axe glimmered in the light filtering. Colors danced across the blade. “Don’t you want to know what’s inside?”
The older slayer sighed. "Not really. I've already done this once. We need to go." She pointed at the clock over the double doors at the end of the hall.
"That clock is totally wrong," Faith sighed, spinning the dial on the Masterlock.
“We can get the combination from the principal later. We have to go,” Buffy insisted.
“Damn, B. Alright. I’m coming.”
“I’m coming already,” she repeated, realizing that she was awake and that someone was banging on the door. She blinked her eyes and tried to pull herself together.
Willow was on the other side of the door, head ducked, looking mega embarrassed. “I woke you up,” she moaned. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t--”
She grinned at the witch. “Well, you’re here now. So come in already.”
This time she’d just up and ask Willow whether what they did was sex or not.
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Dear Xander,
I am home for the holidays. Now that David and Dawn have found the lost Chinese slayer, a local Watcher has been dispatched. Which is just as well since the language barrier would be a problem in training her with the other girls. Dawn hasn’t had any more visions, so I’m back in Sunnydale for the foreseeable future.
Isn’t it amazing how little of the future is really foreseeable?
The new Watchers are terrible salespeople. At least Giles and Dawn managed to keep us in the black. That Dawn is really something. She put this potted plant on your grave while I was gone, so now there’s ivy trailing over the headstone. It’s attractive and far more economical than fresh flowers.
Joyce is having us all for Thanksgiving. I think I might try baking a pie. You always liked my pies. I miss you.
She crumpled the letter and wiped away a few tears. It was too breezy to burn the paper, so she put it in her pocket to take care of later. The sun was low in the sky, casting orange and purple shades across the markers. Anya missed Xander, but she wasn’t quite ready to join him yet, so she pulled his old flannel shirt tight across her chest and made her way out of the cemetery before the sun set.
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I’m drafting the next chapter already. I will be out of town next week for the holiday, so I am not sure when the next post will be, but I’ll be writing while I’m away. Thanks for reading!
Clues
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Kar and my readers, and to zanthinegirl and Victoria for an early run-through. Now that I am back from Thanksgiving vacation, I hope to get back to a more regular posting schedule. A draft for the next part is in the works!
In our eight installment the First appears again, Buffy and Willow finally talk, and Anya has something for Giles.
Chapter Eight: Clues
Spike heard her humming to herself as she came in, so she must have done well on her test. He listened to her moving about the apartment, going through her after-class rituals; first kicking off her boots and dropping her keys and bag, then going through the mail. He stretched, letting the covers ride down his body and settled in to wait for her to come to him.
The phone rang and she grabbed it. "Hey! No, nothing's wrong. Spike’s asleep is all. I didn’t want the phone to wake him up. No, he’s not going to be here tonight, he knows we’re doing girly stuff. Well, if he wants to think we’re doing that kind of girly stuff, it’s not like I can stop him. Probably poker somewhere or cheating frat boys at pool. He doesn’t ask me for permission, Will, I’m not his mom. Yeah, seven is good. It’s Faith’s night to patrol, but… I, um, I guess you probably knew that. See ya then.”
I’m not his mom. Spike clutched at the pillow and tried very hard to push aside any thoughts of his mother. Instead he focused on his slayer, the flowing water as she turned on the faucet, the slide of the crisper drawer as she retrieved a piece of fruit from the bin. The thought of her sinking her teeth into a pear, licking the juice off her lips effectively overrode any other whims he might be entertaining.
“How was your test, pet?” he called out. She appeared in the doorway, clad in her knickers and tank top, holding her half-eaten fruit. So like something he’d dreamed sometimes that it scared him, this living with her. Buffy took another bite and settled at the edge of the bed.
“Fine. The grades will be posted next week.” She shrugged and finished her snack. With her usual precision she tossed the core into the waste bin. “Willow’s still coming over later.”
“She bringing Faith with her?”
Apparently he’d asked this with a bit too much interest, because she was giving him The Look. The expression that informed him that he had mortally wounded her and would pay dearly. She gestured at the blanket tented over his pelvis and frowned. “If that’s not for me, then forget it.”
Spike gave her one of his sly grins and squeezed himself under the sheet. “Oh, this is all yours, love,” he informed her with a raised eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, but slid her warm hand under the covers to take the place of his. A bit of pink tinged her face; during daylight hours she was shy, even after all this time. Not that he minded. It merely added variety, to have her blushing and coy, willing to let him take it slow from the outset, to have to seduce her a bit.
He threw off the blankets and pulled her in close, gave her exposed skin a thorough going over before getting rid of her under things. Buffy was a wonder, all warm and wanting and breathy little noises when his mouth found just the right place. The sunlight beating against the thick drapes made them both drowsy. After a vigorous round with her legs twined around his neck, he rolled them onto their sides and guided her leg up over his hip.
“This is nice,” she murmured as he thrust into her lazily. He snorted and she twined her fingers with his own where they weighed her breast. “Don’t be like that. I just mean, I like it that we don’t have to always be so… I don’t know… grr about it.”
He nipped at her shoulder. “You don’t like it when I’m all grr?”
She sighed. “That’s not what I said,” she protested. “I just feel really safe with you.”
Spike thought about that after, as she napped in his arms. He could feel the blood pumping in her limbs and the constant push and pull of his desires. But he knew that wasn’t the kind of trust she meant. That was taken for granted between them, a minor miracle of its own. It was how she could open herself to him so fearlessly that was still surprising them both.
Trust is for old marrieds. An odd bit of philosophy from somewhere. Was that what they were then? In their own roundabout, screwy way; it was probably the closest either of them would ever get to such a state.
He couldn’t go back to sleep. Her pulse against his mouth was making his stomach growl. In the kitchen he heated his blood and turned to see his mother sitting at the new dining table.
"This one is a bit more like me," she sighed. "The hair, the name. Even the perfume of impending death. How that must--"
"Be off," he muttered, taking a deep draught of his blood. It wouldn't do to show how shook up he was. Had the First known somehow, that his mother had been on his mind, or was this a random appearance? "I bloody well know what you are." He gave the apparition a long looking-over. "And what you're not. So unless you've something more interesting to do than masquerade around as my ancestors, then bugger off."
The vision coughed into a lace-edged handkerchief, and the gesture was so like his mother that he felt a nauseating urge to comfort It. "Oh William, you'll be meeting your ancestors in the flesh soon enough," It informed him before it shattered into dust and vanished. A wave of memory rushed up over him and he clutched at the countertop against the vertigo.
When he opened his eyes again, Buffy was standing there. "Hey. Are you okay? I thought I heard voices."
"Yeah," he managed gruffly. "Ghosty Boy was here again. Says we'll be meeting my ancestors soon."
Her little forehead wrinkled in thought. "What does that mean?"
Spike let her draw him into her arms. He counted off a few dozen ways in which she was nothing like his mum. "Don't know. Can't say as I'm particularly eager to find out."
"Stupid cryptic enemies. Why can't they all be like you? All 'just so you know, I'll be killing you on Saturday' instead of big with the vague."
There was a teasing note in her voice, but it still itched a bit, thinking how much he used to want her death. All those hours healing in solitude, listening to Dru and her sire, yanking himself to the thought of the slayer's murder, spilling useless buckets of salt over her ending. Remembering that, he clutched her tighter so that the knot in her robe cut into his stomach.
"Sorry, bad memories, I know." She gripped his arms.
"Yeah," he agreed, trying very hard to hold on to the present as tightly as he held on to her.
----------
Willow played with a pizza crust while Bridget Jones rambled on about her weight. She wasn't sure what to say to Buffy, and it would appear the feeling was mutual. Her friend kept taking deep breaths and pursing her lips, but so far all she'd done was comment on the accents in the movie.
"So," Buffy said finally. "You never said what it was like, being all temporarily invaded by big evil."
You should know. Willow pushed away her mean thoughts and tried to match her friend's light tone. "Kinda buzzy." She picked the olives off another slice. "I don't really remember it. It just felt... black, oily. Like those aliens on the X-Files, you know? I just wish it had been more of a learning experience. 'Cause all I learned? Was that It can mess with me big."
Buffy nodded. "It's messing with all of us. It popped over earlier today to say hi to my... to Spike."
Willow perked up. "Uh huh. And what were you about to call Spike?" she teased.
Buffy made a face, but there was a smile underneath. "What do you call Faith?"
"I know. It's weird. I mean, we used to hate each other."
"Uh huh," Buffy agreed knowingly.
"I used to want to pummel her every time I saw her."
Buffy just smiled and nodded.
"And then suddenly... not so much pummeling being the first thing on my mind any more."
Buffy leaned in close and dropped her voice. "Best sex ever. Isn't it?"
Willow covered her face and leaned back. She peaked through her fingers and saw Buffy with the knowing smile and the raised eyebrow. Willow swallowed. "It's possible that there's... writhing."
"Uh huh," Buffy said again, all authoritative.
"You're still a little freaked, aren't you?" she asked seriously. She really wanted to know the answer. Besides, it was better than having to think about the fact that she didn’t know what to call Faith either. They were drinking buddies who had sex. It wasn’t like they went to dinner or got coffee or sat around talking. That didn’t really scream girlfriend to her.
"About the Faith thing? I just... I know it's dumb, but it feels a little like she's taking you away, you know? And after the whole thing with Faith and Angel, and Faith and Xander... I really am sorry. It's just my stupid Faith issues and I shouldn't be taking it out on you." Buffy blew out a breath. “Also, I want to give you some big lecture about her dark past and how she’s big with the helping now, but I still worry that she’s going to turn on us again, but then…” Buffy’s eyes wandered to the stack of Clash CDs on the bookshelf.
“Then you look at your vampire honey?” Willow suggested. She remembered suddenly Buffy saying, a million years ago or so that none of them were ever going to have a normal relationship.
Buffy tilted her head in acknowledgement. "We should do stuff like this more often, you know."
"That would be nice." And it would, except... she was a little busy, with classes and research and naked Faith...
Buffy was giving her that knowing look again. "When you feel like coming up for air again, give me a call, okay?"
Willow tried not to think about that in a literal way. Instead she searched for something else to talk about. "Oh! Hey! You know who I saw today? Andrew Wells."
"Ugh. Why isn't he in jail yet?"
"He said he and Jonathan pled down the diamond theft thing. They're back in classes, I guess. He didn't really talk to me much. He seemed pretty eager to get home. All that raw meat, I guess."
"And to that, a giant huh?"
Willow shrugged. "He was coming out of the butcher's, so I guess he wanted to get that stuff on ice."
"Or, you know, it could be what happened with Warren."
"That could be it." Willow took a deep breath. "Um, by the way, about what happened with Warren? Thank you."
Buffy grabbed her hand. "You're my best friend, Will."
"Still?"
Buffy's grip tightened. "Always."
Willow relaxed. They would definitely have to do this more often.
----------
Anya opened another box and started ticking off the contents on her list. She could hear Giles muttering at the computer. He was supposed to be helping her restock since the winter holidays were on them and business was booming. Instead he had been typing and fussing and mainlining tea.
She sighed and stomped around to see what he was doing. "I'm sure I can help you find whatever you're search for... on Amazon?"
"I am trying to find something to get Tara. The girl is impossible to shop for."
Anya rolled her eyes and wandered back up to the locked book cases. "Here."
"The Codex of Amarash?" Giles took off his glasses and gave her a quizzical look.
"She's always asking for it. I have suggested several times that she purchase it, however, she insists she just needs to look up 'one little thing'. Give her the book."
Giles turned it over in his hands. "Thank you," he said finally.
She reached into the desk drawer. Carefully, she placed a cloth-wrapped volume on the counter and handed him some gloves. "I ordered something for you."
Giles took off his glasses and fingered the gloves. "Something delicate, I see." He put one glove on, making a sour face all the while, and slowly peeled back the cloth.
"The Chronicles of Chava! Is this genuine?"
"My supplier knows I have a contingent of slayers in my acquaintance. I doubt he would try to swindle me.” Besides, the local Lushokites were eager to curry favor with the slayer, ever since Dennis and his Suvolte egg scam had made Buffy much more aware of their operations. “I think it's the real thing. Or as real as a copy can get."
"Well, of course, no original could have survived so long. However did you find this?" He was fondling the first page reverently. “It’s in Faryl. This must be an early copy.” Giles put his glasses back on and carefully turned the page. “And it came to pass in the time of my fathers that the Old Ones left us,” he read slowly. “Some say left our kind to peace and prosperity and let us sing glory to Y’w. Yet the Halflings still walk among us and infect the children of Y’w with their madness. Here I shall lay out for my children the stories of how They left and what They left behind.”
She had already read a few chapters, just enough to know it was the book she was looking for. Although some small part of her hoped it would turn out to be a red herring, her pragmatic sensibilities spurred her on. “Your Faryl is very good,” Anya commented.
“I’ve had far too frequent occasion to practice,” he replied.
Anya took a deep breath. “This book, it’s about the Old Ones, and the First is older than the Old Ones. Ask any demon; It wants the old order back.” She watched as a look of horror and then fierce determination settled over her business partner’s face. Giles had read enough to have some inkling of what that would mean, a world overrun by pure demons. Humanity had prevailed once, but past performance was no guarantee of future results.
There were lots of theories about that, of course. Some accounts claimed that the Old Ones had tired of the ‘plague of humanity’ and simply left for greener pastures. Others said the earth itself had objected to the foreign presence on its surface and had yielded secrets to a human elite who had taken care of the problem. Chava recounted the story of the soldiers of Y’w, a young god who had somehow defeated the Old Ones and another tale of a warrior woman, which was why Anya had sought out a copy. In all likelihood, none of the stories were entirely true. She just hoped their was enough truth in Chava.
“I’m hoping there’s something in here we can use. Because if they come back…”
Giles laid his glasses on the page. “It will be up to us to get rid of them again.”
---------
Thank you for your patience. Obviously I’m beginning to spin up to the meat of the plot. Feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated.
In our eight installment the First appears again, Buffy and Willow finally talk, and Anya has something for Giles.
Chapter Eight: Clues
Spike heard her humming to herself as she came in, so she must have done well on her test. He listened to her moving about the apartment, going through her after-class rituals; first kicking off her boots and dropping her keys and bag, then going through the mail. He stretched, letting the covers ride down his body and settled in to wait for her to come to him.
The phone rang and she grabbed it. "Hey! No, nothing's wrong. Spike’s asleep is all. I didn’t want the phone to wake him up. No, he’s not going to be here tonight, he knows we’re doing girly stuff. Well, if he wants to think we’re doing that kind of girly stuff, it’s not like I can stop him. Probably poker somewhere or cheating frat boys at pool. He doesn’t ask me for permission, Will, I’m not his mom. Yeah, seven is good. It’s Faith’s night to patrol, but… I, um, I guess you probably knew that. See ya then.”
I’m not his mom. Spike clutched at the pillow and tried very hard to push aside any thoughts of his mother. Instead he focused on his slayer, the flowing water as she turned on the faucet, the slide of the crisper drawer as she retrieved a piece of fruit from the bin. The thought of her sinking her teeth into a pear, licking the juice off her lips effectively overrode any other whims he might be entertaining.
“How was your test, pet?” he called out. She appeared in the doorway, clad in her knickers and tank top, holding her half-eaten fruit. So like something he’d dreamed sometimes that it scared him, this living with her. Buffy took another bite and settled at the edge of the bed.
“Fine. The grades will be posted next week.” She shrugged and finished her snack. With her usual precision she tossed the core into the waste bin. “Willow’s still coming over later.”
“She bringing Faith with her?”
Apparently he’d asked this with a bit too much interest, because she was giving him The Look. The expression that informed him that he had mortally wounded her and would pay dearly. She gestured at the blanket tented over his pelvis and frowned. “If that’s not for me, then forget it.”
Spike gave her one of his sly grins and squeezed himself under the sheet. “Oh, this is all yours, love,” he informed her with a raised eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, but slid her warm hand under the covers to take the place of his. A bit of pink tinged her face; during daylight hours she was shy, even after all this time. Not that he minded. It merely added variety, to have her blushing and coy, willing to let him take it slow from the outset, to have to seduce her a bit.
He threw off the blankets and pulled her in close, gave her exposed skin a thorough going over before getting rid of her under things. Buffy was a wonder, all warm and wanting and breathy little noises when his mouth found just the right place. The sunlight beating against the thick drapes made them both drowsy. After a vigorous round with her legs twined around his neck, he rolled them onto their sides and guided her leg up over his hip.
“This is nice,” she murmured as he thrust into her lazily. He snorted and she twined her fingers with his own where they weighed her breast. “Don’t be like that. I just mean, I like it that we don’t have to always be so… I don’t know… grr about it.”
He nipped at her shoulder. “You don’t like it when I’m all grr?”
She sighed. “That’s not what I said,” she protested. “I just feel really safe with you.”
Spike thought about that after, as she napped in his arms. He could feel the blood pumping in her limbs and the constant push and pull of his desires. But he knew that wasn’t the kind of trust she meant. That was taken for granted between them, a minor miracle of its own. It was how she could open herself to him so fearlessly that was still surprising them both.
Trust is for old marrieds. An odd bit of philosophy from somewhere. Was that what they were then? In their own roundabout, screwy way; it was probably the closest either of them would ever get to such a state.
He couldn’t go back to sleep. Her pulse against his mouth was making his stomach growl. In the kitchen he heated his blood and turned to see his mother sitting at the new dining table.
"This one is a bit more like me," she sighed. "The hair, the name. Even the perfume of impending death. How that must--"
"Be off," he muttered, taking a deep draught of his blood. It wouldn't do to show how shook up he was. Had the First known somehow, that his mother had been on his mind, or was this a random appearance? "I bloody well know what you are." He gave the apparition a long looking-over. "And what you're not. So unless you've something more interesting to do than masquerade around as my ancestors, then bugger off."
The vision coughed into a lace-edged handkerchief, and the gesture was so like his mother that he felt a nauseating urge to comfort It. "Oh William, you'll be meeting your ancestors in the flesh soon enough," It informed him before it shattered into dust and vanished. A wave of memory rushed up over him and he clutched at the countertop against the vertigo.
When he opened his eyes again, Buffy was standing there. "Hey. Are you okay? I thought I heard voices."
"Yeah," he managed gruffly. "Ghosty Boy was here again. Says we'll be meeting my ancestors soon."
Her little forehead wrinkled in thought. "What does that mean?"
Spike let her draw him into her arms. He counted off a few dozen ways in which she was nothing like his mum. "Don't know. Can't say as I'm particularly eager to find out."
"Stupid cryptic enemies. Why can't they all be like you? All 'just so you know, I'll be killing you on Saturday' instead of big with the vague."
There was a teasing note in her voice, but it still itched a bit, thinking how much he used to want her death. All those hours healing in solitude, listening to Dru and her sire, yanking himself to the thought of the slayer's murder, spilling useless buckets of salt over her ending. Remembering that, he clutched her tighter so that the knot in her robe cut into his stomach.
"Sorry, bad memories, I know." She gripped his arms.
"Yeah," he agreed, trying very hard to hold on to the present as tightly as he held on to her.
----------
Willow played with a pizza crust while Bridget Jones rambled on about her weight. She wasn't sure what to say to Buffy, and it would appear the feeling was mutual. Her friend kept taking deep breaths and pursing her lips, but so far all she'd done was comment on the accents in the movie.
"So," Buffy said finally. "You never said what it was like, being all temporarily invaded by big evil."
You should know. Willow pushed away her mean thoughts and tried to match her friend's light tone. "Kinda buzzy." She picked the olives off another slice. "I don't really remember it. It just felt... black, oily. Like those aliens on the X-Files, you know? I just wish it had been more of a learning experience. 'Cause all I learned? Was that It can mess with me big."
Buffy nodded. "It's messing with all of us. It popped over earlier today to say hi to my... to Spike."
Willow perked up. "Uh huh. And what were you about to call Spike?" she teased.
Buffy made a face, but there was a smile underneath. "What do you call Faith?"
"I know. It's weird. I mean, we used to hate each other."
"Uh huh," Buffy agreed knowingly.
"I used to want to pummel her every time I saw her."
Buffy just smiled and nodded.
"And then suddenly... not so much pummeling being the first thing on my mind any more."
Buffy leaned in close and dropped her voice. "Best sex ever. Isn't it?"
Willow covered her face and leaned back. She peaked through her fingers and saw Buffy with the knowing smile and the raised eyebrow. Willow swallowed. "It's possible that there's... writhing."
"Uh huh," Buffy said again, all authoritative.
"You're still a little freaked, aren't you?" she asked seriously. She really wanted to know the answer. Besides, it was better than having to think about the fact that she didn’t know what to call Faith either. They were drinking buddies who had sex. It wasn’t like they went to dinner or got coffee or sat around talking. That didn’t really scream girlfriend to her.
"About the Faith thing? I just... I know it's dumb, but it feels a little like she's taking you away, you know? And after the whole thing with Faith and Angel, and Faith and Xander... I really am sorry. It's just my stupid Faith issues and I shouldn't be taking it out on you." Buffy blew out a breath. “Also, I want to give you some big lecture about her dark past and how she’s big with the helping now, but I still worry that she’s going to turn on us again, but then…” Buffy’s eyes wandered to the stack of Clash CDs on the bookshelf.
“Then you look at your vampire honey?” Willow suggested. She remembered suddenly Buffy saying, a million years ago or so that none of them were ever going to have a normal relationship.
Buffy tilted her head in acknowledgement. "We should do stuff like this more often, you know."
"That would be nice." And it would, except... she was a little busy, with classes and research and naked Faith...
Buffy was giving her that knowing look again. "When you feel like coming up for air again, give me a call, okay?"
Willow tried not to think about that in a literal way. Instead she searched for something else to talk about. "Oh! Hey! You know who I saw today? Andrew Wells."
"Ugh. Why isn't he in jail yet?"
"He said he and Jonathan pled down the diamond theft thing. They're back in classes, I guess. He didn't really talk to me much. He seemed pretty eager to get home. All that raw meat, I guess."
"And to that, a giant huh?"
Willow shrugged. "He was coming out of the butcher's, so I guess he wanted to get that stuff on ice."
"Or, you know, it could be what happened with Warren."
"That could be it." Willow took a deep breath. "Um, by the way, about what happened with Warren? Thank you."
Buffy grabbed her hand. "You're my best friend, Will."
"Still?"
Buffy's grip tightened. "Always."
Willow relaxed. They would definitely have to do this more often.
----------
Anya opened another box and started ticking off the contents on her list. She could hear Giles muttering at the computer. He was supposed to be helping her restock since the winter holidays were on them and business was booming. Instead he had been typing and fussing and mainlining tea.
She sighed and stomped around to see what he was doing. "I'm sure I can help you find whatever you're search for... on Amazon?"
"I am trying to find something to get Tara. The girl is impossible to shop for."
Anya rolled her eyes and wandered back up to the locked book cases. "Here."
"The Codex of Amarash?" Giles took off his glasses and gave her a quizzical look.
"She's always asking for it. I have suggested several times that she purchase it, however, she insists she just needs to look up 'one little thing'. Give her the book."
Giles turned it over in his hands. "Thank you," he said finally.
She reached into the desk drawer. Carefully, she placed a cloth-wrapped volume on the counter and handed him some gloves. "I ordered something for you."
Giles took off his glasses and fingered the gloves. "Something delicate, I see." He put one glove on, making a sour face all the while, and slowly peeled back the cloth.
"The Chronicles of Chava! Is this genuine?"
"My supplier knows I have a contingent of slayers in my acquaintance. I doubt he would try to swindle me.” Besides, the local Lushokites were eager to curry favor with the slayer, ever since Dennis and his Suvolte egg scam had made Buffy much more aware of their operations. “I think it's the real thing. Or as real as a copy can get."
"Well, of course, no original could have survived so long. However did you find this?" He was fondling the first page reverently. “It’s in Faryl. This must be an early copy.” Giles put his glasses back on and carefully turned the page. “And it came to pass in the time of my fathers that the Old Ones left us,” he read slowly. “Some say left our kind to peace and prosperity and let us sing glory to Y’w. Yet the Halflings still walk among us and infect the children of Y’w with their madness. Here I shall lay out for my children the stories of how They left and what They left behind.”
She had already read a few chapters, just enough to know it was the book she was looking for. Although some small part of her hoped it would turn out to be a red herring, her pragmatic sensibilities spurred her on. “Your Faryl is very good,” Anya commented.
“I’ve had far too frequent occasion to practice,” he replied.
Anya took a deep breath. “This book, it’s about the Old Ones, and the First is older than the Old Ones. Ask any demon; It wants the old order back.” She watched as a look of horror and then fierce determination settled over her business partner’s face. Giles had read enough to have some inkling of what that would mean, a world overrun by pure demons. Humanity had prevailed once, but past performance was no guarantee of future results.
There were lots of theories about that, of course. Some accounts claimed that the Old Ones had tired of the ‘plague of humanity’ and simply left for greener pastures. Others said the earth itself had objected to the foreign presence on its surface and had yielded secrets to a human elite who had taken care of the problem. Chava recounted the story of the soldiers of Y’w, a young god who had somehow defeated the Old Ones and another tale of a warrior woman, which was why Anya had sought out a copy. In all likelihood, none of the stories were entirely true. She just hoped their was enough truth in Chava.
“I’m hoping there’s something in here we can use. Because if they come back…”
Giles laid his glasses on the page. “It will be up to us to get rid of them again.”
---------
Thank you for your patience. Obviously I’m beginning to spin up to the meat of the plot. Feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated.
First Wave
Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar and my readers. I am back from my various travels and hopefully will start posting much more frequently. I don’t know if I can get this done before Christmas, but that would be fabulous! Please keep reading and reviewing.
In our ninth installment Spike encounters his ancestors, Willow does a lot of thinking, and Buffy has a rough night.
Chapter Nine: First Wave
The big patrols always made him a bit edgy. Felt too obvious, so many of them in one place, bound to attract attention. It also made the girls less cautious. They were given to chattering and giggling. Tonight the four on duty were walking ahead of Buffy and himself, talking away.
Buffy was holding the axe in a way that made him oddly jealous. Bloody stupid feeling to have about her special slayer weapon, but he couldn't help noticing they possessive way she had with it, how it seemed to hurt her to pass it over to Faith.
There were other special slayer weapons, of course, and he and Anya were working on tracking them down. Had one on the way already, and once he made sure it was authentic, it would make a hell of a Christmas present.
Ought to get her something romantic too, he mused. She had wandered away from the crowd a bit. It worried him that she seemed so distracted whenever they passed through this area, but couldn't bring himself to blame her or to mention it. She combed her fingers through the ivy trailing over Harris's headstone and she was whispering something, too quiet even for his ears.
Unfortunately he could hear all too well what the girls said about the hot principal and some band they fancied and the merits of some sad, skinny sod in the next grade level. He was trying so hard not to pay attention to them that he almost missed the way Buffy's head snapped up.
"Something's here!" she shouted just before something emerged from behind a mausoleum and pounced.
Spike froze for a minute as the girls leapt into action. They were struggling, scared to get too close to the gnarled, hideous thing.
"Spike!"
He was vaguely aware that someone was calling to him, but there was a rumbling deep inside him. And a quavering fear that left him immobile.
"Spike! William!"
Spike jerked back into awareness and charged. The smell of slayer blood blossomed in the air and he could hear one of the girls screaming. He grappled with it frantically, but it was at the very least a match for his strength.
From the corner of his eye he saw Connie hoist a bleeding Solana into her arms and flee, the French girls clinging to each other. Then there was Buffy, kicking the thing off him and slicing through its neck with the axe.
"What... what was that?" Yvonne demanded.
"Vampire," Spike panted. "That was a vampire."
"You are a vampire," Yvette insisted.
"Not like that," Buffy said quietly. She held out a hand. "Are you okay?"
He let her pull him up. Over her shoulder Angel was grinning at him. "About time you learned to respect your elders, William."
Buffy spun around, but It was already gone. She turned back to him and stroked his arms. "You're shaking."
"We should go catch up with Connie and Solana," Spike insisted. "And call Giles." He could tell from her expression that she wasn't going to let it go that easily, but she was willing to shelve it until latter.
Yvette and Yvonne stayed close this time, alert and aware now.
-------
Willow jotted another note down and looked up from the book. Faith was practically bouncing with impatience, but Willow had work to do. Their plans could wait. Not that she didn't... enjoy her time with Faith, but just because Faith didn't have anything to do besides patrol and have sex that didn't change that fact that Willow had other demands on her time.
"Excuse me." The deep voice made her look up.
A handsome black guy was standing at her shoulder with a box in his hand. He gave her a friendly smile. "I was told I might be able to find Rupert Giles here."
Faith was blinking up at the guy like she'd lost the power of speech. Willow sighed and closed her book. It wasn't like she hadn't known she was just a diversion and that eventually Faith was going to want to drive stick again. Still...
"Giles isn't in right now."
"If you wanted to leave your number--"
"There might be someone here who can help you," Willow cut Faith off. "One moment." She took off her gloves and covered the book carefully.
It was no wonder Anya was always griping about the new watchers working the shop. With the widow on a late lunch break, Anil was hiding out in the stock room. When she reemerged with the irritated young man, Faith and the guy were leaning close and chatting. The body language was pretty clear.
"Good heavens! Robin?" Anil called out. "Whatever are you doing in Sunnydale."
"I'm over at Sunnydale High now," he answered. "The location," he added slowly and pointedly, "appealed to me."
Anil punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Still haven't graduated, Robin? My, my."
The two men went on catching up and Willow tuned them out, going back to the text.
The elders say that our strong cousins began to push the Old Ones out of the colder climes. 'Strong cousins = Neanderthal?' Willow scribbled on her notebook. Her head hurt. The glamour that made the Faryl morph into English to her eyes was tough to keep up. Then They came into our warmer world and would make slaves of us. The soldiers of Y'w say they have weapons forged by their god, given unto them to fight back against the evil of the Old Ones. Their symbols do repel the Halfling and I have seen their implements make ash of the enemy. At the Gatherings they are full of tales of how their god smote the Old Ones, giving their hands the strength of thousands. Y's'a told me the story of his fathers.
"...slayer..."
Willow's head shot up and the glamour evaporated. Robin Wood was also staring at Anil in shock. "Oh, they know," Anil said dismissively.
"You all... you all work with the slayer?" Wood asked, still looking a little baffled.
"Work with? You're talking to a slayer, Sparky," Faith informed him tartly.
"Then maybe I should be giving this to you," he said quietly. He handed the box to Faith, who turned it over in her hands experimentally. “It’s some sort of slayer emergency kit. It was my mother’s. I probably should have turned it over when she was killed but…” he shrugged.
“You wanted something to remember her by,” Faith finished. “I get that.”
"Wait," Willow thought aloud. "Robin Wood, are you Nicole Wood's son?"
He gave her a long look. "You know about my mother?"
Willow swallowed. "I do a lot of reading," she hedged. "I've read her watcher's diary." All of that was true, of course. It just wasn't the whole truth.
"We should get a drink or something," Faith suggested with a sly smile. "I can fill you in on the new slayer sitch."
"That would be nice," Robin agreed. Willow felt another flip in her stomach.
"Hey. You guys ready?" Willow hadn't even heard the bell jingle, but there were Buffy and Spike.
"Sure, just give me a minute." She wrapped the book and handed it gently to Anil.
Robin was eyeing Spike with frank curiosity. "Nice coat."
"Let's go," Willow blurted, grabbing Faith's arm and hauling her toward the door. "It was nice to meet you," she threw over her shoulder.
"We'll talk," Faith added.
Swell. Willow's skin felt tight. She fell in step behind the blonds and then Faith's hand linked with hers. The slayer bumped her hip. "You okay?" she asked. "You seem pissed."
"Five by five," she muttered back.
Willow wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to drinks after patrol. Seeing Faith flirt with Wood had been demoralizing enough, and just as she’d suspected she was going to be treated to lots of watching the slayers grind on the dance floor. Spike had also declined the invitation to dance. She’d never really thought about it, but they had a few things in common besides dating chicks with superpowers. He’d been a bit of a geek too, a weak wallflower until someone supernatural had come along and changed their lives.
He’d gotten over it, she supposed.
He looked the two of them over as they practically mauled each other to the beat of the song. She saw his eyebrow quirk when she caught his gaze. “No,” was all she said.
His expression turned nasty for a minute, but then he just lit a cigarette. “Never was one for sharing anyway,” he said lightly.
Neither was she. Another thing they had in common. And part of the reason she was thinking it might be good to just end things now, before Faith got any more chummy with the slayer’s son than she already had. “It’s just a dog and pony show anyway,” she sighed.
“Is mine the pony, then?”
A blessedly brief mental image of the two blonds flashed behind her eyes. She smiled into her glass. “Actually I’m thinking you’re probably the pony.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she couldn’t believe she’d said them. Neither could Spike, if the way he jaw was hanging was any indication. She covered her own shock by scoffing at him. “Oh good grief, unclutch your pearls, Spike.”
“Didn’t think you were interested in my pearls, Red,” he shot back, having recovered.
She made a face and turned to watch the slayers on the dance floor some more. “She’s about to hop the bus back to boy’s town,” Willow mused aloud. She had a sneaking suspicion that some people had expected her to do the same after Tara, but that prospect held no appeal for her. Well, there was always an Oz Clause. But otherwise…
Spike interrupted her train of thought. “What make you so sure?”
“Dawn’s principal came by the store today. They… sparked.” She gave the vampire a sideways glance. “You saw him. And you’d remember his mother.”
“I would?”
Willow saw the other girls headed back to the table. She hid her face in her glass again and said just loud enough for him to hear, “Nicole Wood. You killed her.”
----------
Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're trying to be so quiet. We sit here stranded, though we're all doing our best to deny it.
Spike had put on one of Bob Dylan CDs in again, and Buffy had to admit it was nice for old stuff. She was lying back against the pillows and Spike rested on her shoulder with his back against her chest. Occasionally he'd run a hand up and down her leg, but for the most part they were just laying there, catching their breath and thinking their separate thoughts.
“Something on your mind tonight? You seem all thinky,” she commented.
He shrugged. “Something Willow said. Brought up some bad memories. Rather not talk about it.”
She stroked his hair. “Okay.” The position gave her a great view of his arms. She ran her fingers over the muscles there. "You were so scrawny when we met," she teased. "Is it all the pig's blood that's made you all pumped up?"
He snorted, but smiled too, which wasn't happening nearly enough since the Turok Han thing had attacked them. She was scared too and just as desperate to know what else the First had up Its sleeve, but Spike had been really shaken up. Was he afraid she’d reject him again, knowing that there was a little bit of that running through him? Or maybe he’d felt something disturbing, like kinship instead of horror. Either way, he wasn’t talking about it and she didn’t want to press him. Yet.
"Was Angel all skinny before he got the soul, too?"
Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously. He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously.
"No. Your great love was always a hulking pillock."
The smile was all gone now. She sighed. "God, don't get all pouty. And, don't try pulling that 'great love' crap."
"Did love him though," Spike groused, starting to pull away from her.
Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled him back into place. "Yes, I did. So what? I love you, you dope. It's not like I'm the first person you ever loved either, so cut it out." Her right foot stroked his thigh in an attempt to distract him.
"Sodding poofter."
She squeezed him with her legs. "Will you cut it out?" Spike squirmed in her grip, causing a vertebra to rub against her in a pleasant way. A little gasp escaped her.
"Doesn't sound like you want me to cut it out, slayer."
She tipped his head back so she could lean down and kiss him. Spike twisted to his side and brought a hand up to cup her breast. His mouth broke from hers to seek the nipple his thumb had prepared and she closed her eyes against the feel of it.
"This all mine now, then?" he asked quietly, trailing his lips along the underside of her breast. She shivered; she'd never known that was an erogenous zone before Spike. She hadn't known a lot before Spike.
"You know I am," she told him sincerely.
She heard a tell-tale clinking and automatically lifted her hands up for him as he rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table.
The phone rang and with a reluctant groan, she reached for it. "Hello?" Spike was pouting at her persuasively and it took a few beat for the words to penetrate her brain. "Oh my god!" she gasped. "We'll be right there!"
-------
Dawn tried really, really hard not to freak out. Which was difficult to do with two truly creepy and deadly creatures staring through the windows at her. She just hoped that Willow's charms would hold until Buffy could get there. Mom was standing close by, clutching an axe with severe mama bear face on. That did make her feel a little safer.
But her sense of security ratcheted up much more when she saw one of the figures explode into dust. The second one turned and Dawn couldn’t swallow a scream when a stream of blood hit the window. Then the blade of the axe was shining in the porch light and the second creature went down.
Her mother raced for the door and threw it open. “Oh my god, Buffy!”
Spike carried her sister in, his hand clasped over her bleeding arm. “Bandages, Bit!” he yelled and Dawn thundered down the hall to the linen closet.
Spike ripped Buffy’s shirt off and then stepped back to let her mom and Faith tend the wound. Out of the corner of her eye, Dawn saw him staring at his hands, and then he was gone. Buffy just gritted her teeth, insisting that she was fine. Her eyes began to lose focus though and Dawn hurried to the kitchen to get something sugary.
She was distracted by the sight of Spike frantically trying to wash Buffy’s blood off his hands. Dawn wanted to say something, but she had to get back to Buffy. Joyce smiled gratefully at her and held the bottle of juice for Buffy to drink. Faith was saying something about a slayer emergency kit, and Buffy was agreeing that maybe it was time to declare an emergency. Mom started in on both of them, demanding to be let in on whatever was going on.
In the kitchen Spike was still scrubbing his hands. She put a hand on his shoulder and reached for the tap. “They’re still red,” he protested.
“You’ve been rubbing them together under scalding water, Spike, even you are going to pink up if you boil yourself.” She grabbed a towel and patted his hands dry. They felt warm to her touch; weird. “She’s going to be okay, you know.”
“You should stay here tonight,” her mom insisted before Spike could answer. Dawn watched his eyes go to the pile of bloodied bandages in Joyce’s hands.
“That’s a good idea,” Dawn agreed. “Take her upstairs and get some rest okay.”
Mom dumped the garbage and put an arm around Dawn. “Is he okay?”
Dawn shrugged. “He’ll be okay,” she replied. She didn’t say anything else, but she understood it. Spike couldn’t stand having Buffy’s blood on his hands. She didn’t want to think too much about why.
------
Want to know what happens next? Chapter Ten is posted too!
In our ninth installment Spike encounters his ancestors, Willow does a lot of thinking, and Buffy has a rough night.
Chapter Nine: First Wave
The big patrols always made him a bit edgy. Felt too obvious, so many of them in one place, bound to attract attention. It also made the girls less cautious. They were given to chattering and giggling. Tonight the four on duty were walking ahead of Buffy and himself, talking away.
Buffy was holding the axe in a way that made him oddly jealous. Bloody stupid feeling to have about her special slayer weapon, but he couldn't help noticing they possessive way she had with it, how it seemed to hurt her to pass it over to Faith.
There were other special slayer weapons, of course, and he and Anya were working on tracking them down. Had one on the way already, and once he made sure it was authentic, it would make a hell of a Christmas present.
Ought to get her something romantic too, he mused. She had wandered away from the crowd a bit. It worried him that she seemed so distracted whenever they passed through this area, but couldn't bring himself to blame her or to mention it. She combed her fingers through the ivy trailing over Harris's headstone and she was whispering something, too quiet even for his ears.
Unfortunately he could hear all too well what the girls said about the hot principal and some band they fancied and the merits of some sad, skinny sod in the next grade level. He was trying so hard not to pay attention to them that he almost missed the way Buffy's head snapped up.
"Something's here!" she shouted just before something emerged from behind a mausoleum and pounced.
Spike froze for a minute as the girls leapt into action. They were struggling, scared to get too close to the gnarled, hideous thing.
"Spike!"
He was vaguely aware that someone was calling to him, but there was a rumbling deep inside him. And a quavering fear that left him immobile.
"Spike! William!"
Spike jerked back into awareness and charged. The smell of slayer blood blossomed in the air and he could hear one of the girls screaming. He grappled with it frantically, but it was at the very least a match for his strength.
From the corner of his eye he saw Connie hoist a bleeding Solana into her arms and flee, the French girls clinging to each other. Then there was Buffy, kicking the thing off him and slicing through its neck with the axe.
"What... what was that?" Yvonne demanded.
"Vampire," Spike panted. "That was a vampire."
"You are a vampire," Yvette insisted.
"Not like that," Buffy said quietly. She held out a hand. "Are you okay?"
He let her pull him up. Over her shoulder Angel was grinning at him. "About time you learned to respect your elders, William."
Buffy spun around, but It was already gone. She turned back to him and stroked his arms. "You're shaking."
"We should go catch up with Connie and Solana," Spike insisted. "And call Giles." He could tell from her expression that she wasn't going to let it go that easily, but she was willing to shelve it until latter.
Yvette and Yvonne stayed close this time, alert and aware now.
-------
Willow jotted another note down and looked up from the book. Faith was practically bouncing with impatience, but Willow had work to do. Their plans could wait. Not that she didn't... enjoy her time with Faith, but just because Faith didn't have anything to do besides patrol and have sex that didn't change that fact that Willow had other demands on her time.
"Excuse me." The deep voice made her look up.
A handsome black guy was standing at her shoulder with a box in his hand. He gave her a friendly smile. "I was told I might be able to find Rupert Giles here."
Faith was blinking up at the guy like she'd lost the power of speech. Willow sighed and closed her book. It wasn't like she hadn't known she was just a diversion and that eventually Faith was going to want to drive stick again. Still...
"Giles isn't in right now."
"If you wanted to leave your number--"
"There might be someone here who can help you," Willow cut Faith off. "One moment." She took off her gloves and covered the book carefully.
It was no wonder Anya was always griping about the new watchers working the shop. With the widow on a late lunch break, Anil was hiding out in the stock room. When she reemerged with the irritated young man, Faith and the guy were leaning close and chatting. The body language was pretty clear.
"Good heavens! Robin?" Anil called out. "Whatever are you doing in Sunnydale."
"I'm over at Sunnydale High now," he answered. "The location," he added slowly and pointedly, "appealed to me."
Anil punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Still haven't graduated, Robin? My, my."
The two men went on catching up and Willow tuned them out, going back to the text.
The elders say that our strong cousins began to push the Old Ones out of the colder climes. 'Strong cousins = Neanderthal?' Willow scribbled on her notebook. Her head hurt. The glamour that made the Faryl morph into English to her eyes was tough to keep up. Then They came into our warmer world and would make slaves of us. The soldiers of Y'w say they have weapons forged by their god, given unto them to fight back against the evil of the Old Ones. Their symbols do repel the Halfling and I have seen their implements make ash of the enemy. At the Gatherings they are full of tales of how their god smote the Old Ones, giving their hands the strength of thousands. Y's'a told me the story of his fathers.
"...slayer..."
Willow's head shot up and the glamour evaporated. Robin Wood was also staring at Anil in shock. "Oh, they know," Anil said dismissively.
"You all... you all work with the slayer?" Wood asked, still looking a little baffled.
"Work with? You're talking to a slayer, Sparky," Faith informed him tartly.
"Then maybe I should be giving this to you," he said quietly. He handed the box to Faith, who turned it over in her hands experimentally. “It’s some sort of slayer emergency kit. It was my mother’s. I probably should have turned it over when she was killed but…” he shrugged.
“You wanted something to remember her by,” Faith finished. “I get that.”
"Wait," Willow thought aloud. "Robin Wood, are you Nicole Wood's son?"
He gave her a long look. "You know about my mother?"
Willow swallowed. "I do a lot of reading," she hedged. "I've read her watcher's diary." All of that was true, of course. It just wasn't the whole truth.
"We should get a drink or something," Faith suggested with a sly smile. "I can fill you in on the new slayer sitch."
"That would be nice," Robin agreed. Willow felt another flip in her stomach.
"Hey. You guys ready?" Willow hadn't even heard the bell jingle, but there were Buffy and Spike.
"Sure, just give me a minute." She wrapped the book and handed it gently to Anil.
Robin was eyeing Spike with frank curiosity. "Nice coat."
"Let's go," Willow blurted, grabbing Faith's arm and hauling her toward the door. "It was nice to meet you," she threw over her shoulder.
"We'll talk," Faith added.
Swell. Willow's skin felt tight. She fell in step behind the blonds and then Faith's hand linked with hers. The slayer bumped her hip. "You okay?" she asked. "You seem pissed."
"Five by five," she muttered back.
Willow wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to drinks after patrol. Seeing Faith flirt with Wood had been demoralizing enough, and just as she’d suspected she was going to be treated to lots of watching the slayers grind on the dance floor. Spike had also declined the invitation to dance. She’d never really thought about it, but they had a few things in common besides dating chicks with superpowers. He’d been a bit of a geek too, a weak wallflower until someone supernatural had come along and changed their lives.
He’d gotten over it, she supposed.
He looked the two of them over as they practically mauled each other to the beat of the song. She saw his eyebrow quirk when she caught his gaze. “No,” was all she said.
His expression turned nasty for a minute, but then he just lit a cigarette. “Never was one for sharing anyway,” he said lightly.
Neither was she. Another thing they had in common. And part of the reason she was thinking it might be good to just end things now, before Faith got any more chummy with the slayer’s son than she already had. “It’s just a dog and pony show anyway,” she sighed.
“Is mine the pony, then?”
A blessedly brief mental image of the two blonds flashed behind her eyes. She smiled into her glass. “Actually I’m thinking you’re probably the pony.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she couldn’t believe she’d said them. Neither could Spike, if the way he jaw was hanging was any indication. She covered her own shock by scoffing at him. “Oh good grief, unclutch your pearls, Spike.”
“Didn’t think you were interested in my pearls, Red,” he shot back, having recovered.
She made a face and turned to watch the slayers on the dance floor some more. “She’s about to hop the bus back to boy’s town,” Willow mused aloud. She had a sneaking suspicion that some people had expected her to do the same after Tara, but that prospect held no appeal for her. Well, there was always an Oz Clause. But otherwise…
Spike interrupted her train of thought. “What make you so sure?”
“Dawn’s principal came by the store today. They… sparked.” She gave the vampire a sideways glance. “You saw him. And you’d remember his mother.”
“I would?”
Willow saw the other girls headed back to the table. She hid her face in her glass again and said just loud enough for him to hear, “Nicole Wood. You killed her.”
----------
Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're trying to be so quiet. We sit here stranded, though we're all doing our best to deny it.
Spike had put on one of Bob Dylan CDs in again, and Buffy had to admit it was nice for old stuff. She was lying back against the pillows and Spike rested on her shoulder with his back against her chest. Occasionally he'd run a hand up and down her leg, but for the most part they were just laying there, catching their breath and thinking their separate thoughts.
“Something on your mind tonight? You seem all thinky,” she commented.
He shrugged. “Something Willow said. Brought up some bad memories. Rather not talk about it.”
She stroked his hair. “Okay.” The position gave her a great view of his arms. She ran her fingers over the muscles there. "You were so scrawny when we met," she teased. "Is it all the pig's blood that's made you all pumped up?"
He snorted, but smiled too, which wasn't happening nearly enough since the Turok Han thing had attacked them. She was scared too and just as desperate to know what else the First had up Its sleeve, but Spike had been really shaken up. Was he afraid she’d reject him again, knowing that there was a little bit of that running through him? Or maybe he’d felt something disturbing, like kinship instead of horror. Either way, he wasn’t talking about it and she didn’t want to press him. Yet.
"Was Angel all skinny before he got the soul, too?"
Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously. He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously.
"No. Your great love was always a hulking pillock."
The smile was all gone now. She sighed. "God, don't get all pouty. And, don't try pulling that 'great love' crap."
"Did love him though," Spike groused, starting to pull away from her.
Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled him back into place. "Yes, I did. So what? I love you, you dope. It's not like I'm the first person you ever loved either, so cut it out." Her right foot stroked his thigh in an attempt to distract him.
"Sodding poofter."
She squeezed him with her legs. "Will you cut it out?" Spike squirmed in her grip, causing a vertebra to rub against her in a pleasant way. A little gasp escaped her.
"Doesn't sound like you want me to cut it out, slayer."
She tipped his head back so she could lean down and kiss him. Spike twisted to his side and brought a hand up to cup her breast. His mouth broke from hers to seek the nipple his thumb had prepared and she closed her eyes against the feel of it.
"This all mine now, then?" he asked quietly, trailing his lips along the underside of her breast. She shivered; she'd never known that was an erogenous zone before Spike. She hadn't known a lot before Spike.
"You know I am," she told him sincerely.
She heard a tell-tale clinking and automatically lifted her hands up for him as he rummaged in the drawer of the bedside table.
The phone rang and with a reluctant groan, she reached for it. "Hello?" Spike was pouting at her persuasively and it took a few beat for the words to penetrate her brain. "Oh my god!" she gasped. "We'll be right there!"
-------
Dawn tried really, really hard not to freak out. Which was difficult to do with two truly creepy and deadly creatures staring through the windows at her. She just hoped that Willow's charms would hold until Buffy could get there. Mom was standing close by, clutching an axe with severe mama bear face on. That did make her feel a little safer.
But her sense of security ratcheted up much more when she saw one of the figures explode into dust. The second one turned and Dawn couldn’t swallow a scream when a stream of blood hit the window. Then the blade of the axe was shining in the porch light and the second creature went down.
Her mother raced for the door and threw it open. “Oh my god, Buffy!”
Spike carried her sister in, his hand clasped over her bleeding arm. “Bandages, Bit!” he yelled and Dawn thundered down the hall to the linen closet.
Spike ripped Buffy’s shirt off and then stepped back to let her mom and Faith tend the wound. Out of the corner of her eye, Dawn saw him staring at his hands, and then he was gone. Buffy just gritted her teeth, insisting that she was fine. Her eyes began to lose focus though and Dawn hurried to the kitchen to get something sugary.
She was distracted by the sight of Spike frantically trying to wash Buffy’s blood off his hands. Dawn wanted to say something, but she had to get back to Buffy. Joyce smiled gratefully at her and held the bottle of juice for Buffy to drink. Faith was saying something about a slayer emergency kit, and Buffy was agreeing that maybe it was time to declare an emergency. Mom started in on both of them, demanding to be let in on whatever was going on.
In the kitchen Spike was still scrubbing his hands. She put a hand on his shoulder and reached for the tap. “They’re still red,” he protested.
“You’ve been rubbing them together under scalding water, Spike, even you are going to pink up if you boil yourself.” She grabbed a towel and patted his hands dry. They felt warm to her touch; weird. “She’s going to be okay, you know.”
“You should stay here tonight,” her mom insisted before Spike could answer. Dawn watched his eyes go to the pile of bloodied bandages in Joyce’s hands.
“That’s a good idea,” Dawn agreed. “Take her upstairs and get some rest okay.”
Mom dumped the garbage and put an arm around Dawn. “Is he okay?”
Dawn shrugged. “He’ll be okay,” she replied. She didn’t say anything else, but she understood it. Spike couldn’t stand having Buffy’s blood on his hands. She didn’t want to think too much about why.
------
Want to know what happens next? Chapter Ten is posted too!
Protection
Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar for doing twice the beta in one day. Thanks to all of you for giving me the feedback to keep this going. This one is just a shortie to set up for next chapter.
In our tenth installment a former enemy claims he has information for the slayer, and a number of characters wrestle with their inner demons.
Chapter Ten: Protection
Dawn was still exhausted from the ordeal with the attacking ubervamps when she answered to door that afternoon to find a soggy, sobbing blond guy prostrate on their welcome mat. It was really tempting to just shut the door and pretend she'd never seen him. But he looked so utterly pathetic, and there was no way Buffy would turn away someone that desperate looking. Unless he was evil.
In which case, maybe she would date him.
"I beg you," he pleaded, hands clasped and everything as he got up on his knees. "I throw myself upon the slayer's mercy and beg her for a parlay."
Dawn's eyes bugged. Who was this guy? "Buffy!" she shouted. "There's some squirrelly guy here who wants to beg you for mercy! You better come down here!"
There's was nothing for a minute, and then she heard, "Blond or brunette?" shouted down the stairs.
"Blond!"
"Tell Tucker's brother I'm a little short on mercy these days." So this was one of the Trio guys? He didn't look like much. Dawn gave the guy an apologetic shrug and moved to close the door.
"I have information!" the guy screeched. "I beg you for asylum, oh Great and Merciful Slayer, defender of the helpless and--"
"Enough, already!"
Her sister was on the stairs, dressed and combed. Buffy had apparently been using the shouting match as an opportunity to gussy up. Which made sense. Probably she didn't want one of the dorks seeing her in a robe with bed hair. Or sex hair. Ever since Mom had left for work, Dawn had been blasting the radio to drown out the noise from upstairs.
Buffy crossed her arms. "What are you doing here?"
The guy carefully crossed the threshold and fell to his knees again. Dawn stifled a laugh. "I beg you for mercy--"
"You said that already," her sister sighed. "Either tell me what you are doing here, or I'm pitching you back out the door."
After a really tiring amount of meandering, Buffy finally pinned the guy to the wall by his throat, and he starting spilling big time. About how Warren had been coming to him and his friend Jonathan and telling them to do things. He said he made us do things like he was on SVU. Actually, everything he said sounded like it was quoted from somewhere.
"So," Dawn piped up. "The First made you do what exactly? And how? It's not like it can actually, you know, hurt you are anything."
"Evil is very persuasive," he replied haughtily. "And I missed Warren," he whined. "But The First kinda reminded me of how bossy Warren was, and how I never received any affirmation from him." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Would one word of support have been too much, after everything I did for him?"
Buffy dropped the guy and wiped her hand on her jeans. "So you figured out this thing wasn't Warren, and you came to me?" Her sister didn’t sound like she was buying that.
He dropped his eyes. "They kicked me out of the club," he whispered. "Because I wouldn't kill the pigs."
"Okay, you're really going to have to explain that," Buffy insisted.
"He wanted sacrifices, okay. He needed pig's blood. For something. But I just bought the blood because I..." He began sobbing like a little girl. Dawn sighed and went to go find some Kleenex. When she got back he was talking about how Jonathan drained him with his magic bone -- she really didn't want to know what that meant.
"When was that?" Buffy asked.
"About a week ago," he moaned.
"A week ago! And you're telling me this now, why?"
He took a deep breath and puffed himself up. "Look at me!" he screeched. He immediately deflated and slumped against the wall.
They both did really, really look at him. He was whippet thin and to say he had circles under his puffy red eyes would have been kind. His hair had gone grey in patches and there were stains that didn't bear much scrutiny on his clothes.
There was also the smell. He probably hadn't bathed in a week either.
"Your friend, he drained you pretty good, didn't he?" Buffy said quietly.
"Help me, please," he whispered. Without drama this time.
Buffy just nodded, all wise and solemn. "Give us a minute, 'kay?"
Dawn followed her into the kitchen. "What are you going to do with this freak?" she asked.
Buffy shrugged. "Protect him, I guess, at least as long as he's got anything useful to tell us. I'll have to talk to Mom. Or maybe Anya. Our place is kinda small."
Dawn frowned. "You know, he was trying to kill you not that long ago."
Her sister frowned. "Sometimes they get over that." There was the slightest smile and then, "Others don't. So until we know what this guy is up to, we might as well get as much intelligence out of him as we can."
Dawn snorted. "Good luck with that." This Andrew guy wasn't striking her as chock-full of intelligence.
"If Jonathan did some magic on this guy, we should probably have Willow take a look at him. She might be able to get the rest of the story out of him, too." Buffy made a deep thoughts face. "In the meantime, I guess we should 'protect' him." She grinned at Dawn and raised one eyebrow. "Wanna help me get him downstairs and chain him up?"
Dawn chuckled. "You know, I really enjoy our quality sister bonding time."
-------
Joyce unfolded the paper and immediately wished she hadn't. It shouldn't have surprised her, after the attack on her house, that a mess of dead young women had been found. Whatever those things were, uber vampires or whatever her daughter had called him, they had to eat and it wasn't hard to guess what their prey might be.
With trembling fingers she brought her coffee cup to her lips and tried to read the details without really absorbing them. Slit throats. The bodies had been drained, but there was no sign of a bite. Meaning that it was entirely possible that nothing supernatural had murdered the seven college students. It might be nothing more extraordinary than regular human evil.
Which was even worse.
Joyce put her coffee cup down. Suddenly the smell was sickening to her. She folded the paper and reluctantly shoved it into her purse. Either way, she was going to have to show the article to her daughter.
-------
Faith punched the hanging bag, hard. Octavia grunted, but held the bag fast. Faith knew she was supposed to be training the younger girl, but she has some frustration she needed to let out first. After a few more satisfying jabs, she took a bouncing step back and tossed her gloves aside.
"Should we spar or something?" she asked.
Octavia looked her over carefully. "You know what? You're kinda scary right now. I'd rather not invite you to hit me, if that's okay."
Faith took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. She'd finally stopped calling. Willow was not going to turn her into some desperate, clingy chick leaving dozens of messages. The first dozen was plenty. Willow would either call her back or not. And if not, then fuck her. "Sorry, my girlfriend's on the rag this week or something. It's making me all twitchy."
"Um, okay. Aren't you going out with my principal though?"
Faith blinked at the younger slayer. "Excuse me?"
"Melody Kendall was in here buying candles or something and saw you two talking about getting coffee or whatever. Said you two were big with the flirting and the goo-goo eyes."
"Oh." Damn. "No, I'm not dating your principal." But if that's what some dumb kid had picked up on, then probably Willow was thinking the same thing. So she'd flirted with the guy. It wasn't like they'd thrown down right there on the research table. And if Willow was pisssed, she could have said something. But Goddess forbid Willow get her back up unless she was doing something for Buffy.
Besides, what was the big deal? It wasn't like she and Willow were a real couple, right? They were just having fun, just scratching an itch. It wasn't like she was falling for Willow, not like she really cared.
Getting involved with someone like that, always a bad plan. A girl had to protect herself. Willow wasn't what she really wanted anyway, she just had a little bit of something Faith wanted for the moment. Whatever happened, she didn't really give a shit, it wasn't going to bother her whichever way it when. It was just a thing, just a little temporary warmth, and she could walk away at any time. She was always free to walk. Willow didn't really mean anything to her.
"Are you okay?" Octavia asked earnestly. "You look like you're going to be sick."
"Smack the bag around for awhile, kid. I gotta make a phone call."
-------
Buffy had felt like the day was never going to end. She pillowed her head on Spike's arm and watched him breath in his sleep. They hadn't had sex. A real rarity on any day since she'd moved in with him. Under the circumstances though, neither of them was in the mood.
Piles of drained girls didn't get Spike excited like they used to.
She shuddered and pressed her lips to his shoulder, willing those thoughts away. The past was past, and she wanted to keep it there. And these dead students were her fault anyway. The whole thing with The First was her fault. She'd woken the slayers; she'd unsettled the balance.
But that was her job! Wasn't it? Wasn't she supposed to turn the tide for good? Or did the Powers think the slayer was just supposed to do enough good to maintain some sort of status quo? In which case, the stupid Powers could bite her.
She rolled over onto her own side of the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. It just wasn't a snuggly night. Tomorrow she and Faith would open up the slayer emergency kit and see what it could tell them. In the meantime she might as well try to get some sleep.
There were lockers up and down the hallway. The seemed to go on forever no matter how long she walked. Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. There was a door at the end, light shining through the jamb, but she couldn't seem to reach it.
"You've got to stop beating yourself up over this, Buff."
Xander's sneakers were untied. Drops of blood spattered the floor between his feet.
"I let it in, Xander. Their blood is on my hands." She held up her stained palms. "And there's going to be more."
They walked on in silence. A clock over the lockers ticked frantically, but the second hand was stuck. "Oh, don't worry, that clock is wrong anyway," Xander reassured her. "You'll know the hour when it comes."
"I wouldn't want to be late."
"You won't be."
"How will I know what to do?"
Xander squeezed her hand. "You always figure it out, don't you?"
They had reached the end of the hall. Buffy didn't want to open the door, but she reached for the knob anyway.
"Oh, no," Xander stopped her. "You've already gone through that door." He gestured toward another pathway where the standard-issue hallway tile ran out, this one dark and shapeless. "It's time for something new."
She gripped his hand tight, and marched forward.
-----
If you’re not familiar with Ben Folds' Protection, do give it a listen. I was listening one day and thought that the voice sounded like Faith (the poetic ‘voice’, not Ben’s singing voice). It really fits with how I’ve been approaching her in writing the Faith/Willow relationship. Anyhoodle, next time… Shadow Men! I have it drafted, so there should be only a small gap between posts. Feedback is treasured, always.
In our tenth installment a former enemy claims he has information for the slayer, and a number of characters wrestle with their inner demons.
Chapter Ten: Protection
Dawn was still exhausted from the ordeal with the attacking ubervamps when she answered to door that afternoon to find a soggy, sobbing blond guy prostrate on their welcome mat. It was really tempting to just shut the door and pretend she'd never seen him. But he looked so utterly pathetic, and there was no way Buffy would turn away someone that desperate looking. Unless he was evil.
In which case, maybe she would date him.
"I beg you," he pleaded, hands clasped and everything as he got up on his knees. "I throw myself upon the slayer's mercy and beg her for a parlay."
Dawn's eyes bugged. Who was this guy? "Buffy!" she shouted. "There's some squirrelly guy here who wants to beg you for mercy! You better come down here!"
There's was nothing for a minute, and then she heard, "Blond or brunette?" shouted down the stairs.
"Blond!"
"Tell Tucker's brother I'm a little short on mercy these days." So this was one of the Trio guys? He didn't look like much. Dawn gave the guy an apologetic shrug and moved to close the door.
"I have information!" the guy screeched. "I beg you for asylum, oh Great and Merciful Slayer, defender of the helpless and--"
"Enough, already!"
Her sister was on the stairs, dressed and combed. Buffy had apparently been using the shouting match as an opportunity to gussy up. Which made sense. Probably she didn't want one of the dorks seeing her in a robe with bed hair. Or sex hair. Ever since Mom had left for work, Dawn had been blasting the radio to drown out the noise from upstairs.
Buffy crossed her arms. "What are you doing here?"
The guy carefully crossed the threshold and fell to his knees again. Dawn stifled a laugh. "I beg you for mercy--"
"You said that already," her sister sighed. "Either tell me what you are doing here, or I'm pitching you back out the door."
After a really tiring amount of meandering, Buffy finally pinned the guy to the wall by his throat, and he starting spilling big time. About how Warren had been coming to him and his friend Jonathan and telling them to do things. He said he made us do things like he was on SVU. Actually, everything he said sounded like it was quoted from somewhere.
"So," Dawn piped up. "The First made you do what exactly? And how? It's not like it can actually, you know, hurt you are anything."
"Evil is very persuasive," he replied haughtily. "And I missed Warren," he whined. "But The First kinda reminded me of how bossy Warren was, and how I never received any affirmation from him." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Would one word of support have been too much, after everything I did for him?"
Buffy dropped the guy and wiped her hand on her jeans. "So you figured out this thing wasn't Warren, and you came to me?" Her sister didn’t sound like she was buying that.
He dropped his eyes. "They kicked me out of the club," he whispered. "Because I wouldn't kill the pigs."
"Okay, you're really going to have to explain that," Buffy insisted.
"He wanted sacrifices, okay. He needed pig's blood. For something. But I just bought the blood because I..." He began sobbing like a little girl. Dawn sighed and went to go find some Kleenex. When she got back he was talking about how Jonathan drained him with his magic bone -- she really didn't want to know what that meant.
"When was that?" Buffy asked.
"About a week ago," he moaned.
"A week ago! And you're telling me this now, why?"
He took a deep breath and puffed himself up. "Look at me!" he screeched. He immediately deflated and slumped against the wall.
They both did really, really look at him. He was whippet thin and to say he had circles under his puffy red eyes would have been kind. His hair had gone grey in patches and there were stains that didn't bear much scrutiny on his clothes.
There was also the smell. He probably hadn't bathed in a week either.
"Your friend, he drained you pretty good, didn't he?" Buffy said quietly.
"Help me, please," he whispered. Without drama this time.
Buffy just nodded, all wise and solemn. "Give us a minute, 'kay?"
Dawn followed her into the kitchen. "What are you going to do with this freak?" she asked.
Buffy shrugged. "Protect him, I guess, at least as long as he's got anything useful to tell us. I'll have to talk to Mom. Or maybe Anya. Our place is kinda small."
Dawn frowned. "You know, he was trying to kill you not that long ago."
Her sister frowned. "Sometimes they get over that." There was the slightest smile and then, "Others don't. So until we know what this guy is up to, we might as well get as much intelligence out of him as we can."
Dawn snorted. "Good luck with that." This Andrew guy wasn't striking her as chock-full of intelligence.
"If Jonathan did some magic on this guy, we should probably have Willow take a look at him. She might be able to get the rest of the story out of him, too." Buffy made a deep thoughts face. "In the meantime, I guess we should 'protect' him." She grinned at Dawn and raised one eyebrow. "Wanna help me get him downstairs and chain him up?"
Dawn chuckled. "You know, I really enjoy our quality sister bonding time."
-------
Joyce unfolded the paper and immediately wished she hadn't. It shouldn't have surprised her, after the attack on her house, that a mess of dead young women had been found. Whatever those things were, uber vampires or whatever her daughter had called him, they had to eat and it wasn't hard to guess what their prey might be.
With trembling fingers she brought her coffee cup to her lips and tried to read the details without really absorbing them. Slit throats. The bodies had been drained, but there was no sign of a bite. Meaning that it was entirely possible that nothing supernatural had murdered the seven college students. It might be nothing more extraordinary than regular human evil.
Which was even worse.
Joyce put her coffee cup down. Suddenly the smell was sickening to her. She folded the paper and reluctantly shoved it into her purse. Either way, she was going to have to show the article to her daughter.
-------
Faith punched the hanging bag, hard. Octavia grunted, but held the bag fast. Faith knew she was supposed to be training the younger girl, but she has some frustration she needed to let out first. After a few more satisfying jabs, she took a bouncing step back and tossed her gloves aside.
"Should we spar or something?" she asked.
Octavia looked her over carefully. "You know what? You're kinda scary right now. I'd rather not invite you to hit me, if that's okay."
Faith took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. She'd finally stopped calling. Willow was not going to turn her into some desperate, clingy chick leaving dozens of messages. The first dozen was plenty. Willow would either call her back or not. And if not, then fuck her. "Sorry, my girlfriend's on the rag this week or something. It's making me all twitchy."
"Um, okay. Aren't you going out with my principal though?"
Faith blinked at the younger slayer. "Excuse me?"
"Melody Kendall was in here buying candles or something and saw you two talking about getting coffee or whatever. Said you two were big with the flirting and the goo-goo eyes."
"Oh." Damn. "No, I'm not dating your principal." But if that's what some dumb kid had picked up on, then probably Willow was thinking the same thing. So she'd flirted with the guy. It wasn't like they'd thrown down right there on the research table. And if Willow was pisssed, she could have said something. But Goddess forbid Willow get her back up unless she was doing something for Buffy.
Besides, what was the big deal? It wasn't like she and Willow were a real couple, right? They were just having fun, just scratching an itch. It wasn't like she was falling for Willow, not like she really cared.
Getting involved with someone like that, always a bad plan. A girl had to protect herself. Willow wasn't what she really wanted anyway, she just had a little bit of something Faith wanted for the moment. Whatever happened, she didn't really give a shit, it wasn't going to bother her whichever way it when. It was just a thing, just a little temporary warmth, and she could walk away at any time. She was always free to walk. Willow didn't really mean anything to her.
"Are you okay?" Octavia asked earnestly. "You look like you're going to be sick."
"Smack the bag around for awhile, kid. I gotta make a phone call."
-------
Buffy had felt like the day was never going to end. She pillowed her head on Spike's arm and watched him breath in his sleep. They hadn't had sex. A real rarity on any day since she'd moved in with him. Under the circumstances though, neither of them was in the mood.
Piles of drained girls didn't get Spike excited like they used to.
She shuddered and pressed her lips to his shoulder, willing those thoughts away. The past was past, and she wanted to keep it there. And these dead students were her fault anyway. The whole thing with The First was her fault. She'd woken the slayers; she'd unsettled the balance.
But that was her job! Wasn't it? Wasn't she supposed to turn the tide for good? Or did the Powers think the slayer was just supposed to do enough good to maintain some sort of status quo? In which case, the stupid Powers could bite her.
She rolled over onto her own side of the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. It just wasn't a snuggly night. Tomorrow she and Faith would open up the slayer emergency kit and see what it could tell them. In the meantime she might as well try to get some sleep.
There were lockers up and down the hallway. The seemed to go on forever no matter how long she walked. Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor. There was a door at the end, light shining through the jamb, but she couldn't seem to reach it.
"You've got to stop beating yourself up over this, Buff."
Xander's sneakers were untied. Drops of blood spattered the floor between his feet.
"I let it in, Xander. Their blood is on my hands." She held up her stained palms. "And there's going to be more."
They walked on in silence. A clock over the lockers ticked frantically, but the second hand was stuck. "Oh, don't worry, that clock is wrong anyway," Xander reassured her. "You'll know the hour when it comes."
"I wouldn't want to be late."
"You won't be."
"How will I know what to do?"
Xander squeezed her hand. "You always figure it out, don't you?"
They had reached the end of the hall. Buffy didn't want to open the door, but she reached for the knob anyway.
"Oh, no," Xander stopped her. "You've already gone through that door." He gestured toward another pathway where the standard-issue hallway tile ran out, this one dark and shapeless. "It's time for something new."
She gripped his hand tight, and marched forward.
-----
If you’re not familiar with Ben Folds' Protection, do give it a listen. I was listening one day and thought that the voice sounded like Faith (the poetic ‘voice’, not Ben’s singing voice). It really fits with how I’ve been approaching her in writing the Faith/Willow relationship. Anyhoodle, next time… Shadow Men! I have it drafted, so there should be only a small gap between posts. Feedback is treasured, always.
Darkness
Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar for the rapid turn around on this deluge of chapters. Thanks to my readers and reviewers. I hope folks will like my twist on canon in this chapter.
In our eleventh installment Buffy and Faith encounter the Shadow Men.
Chapter 11: Darkness
Buffy didn't wear armor. She went into battle in jeans and boots, a sensible sweater. Still, watching her fasten her laces and pull back her hair with that set, determined face, Spike knew he was watching a warrior gird herself for battle. With that serious expression and severe hairstyle, it was hard to believe that not twenty minutes ago she had been riding him at a gallop, biting down hard on his arm to keep from screaming out her release. That was part of the preparations too, he knew, working out a little nervous energy. He couldn’t see his way to minding much.
She'd had one of her dreams again, he could tell. Her slayer dreams were something she didn't discuss with him, at least not directly. She'd tell the group or Giles a detail or two, but mostly she kept them to herself.
The slayer is always alone. Buffy wasn’t like other slayers, and she wouldn't have lived so long if that were always true for her. But sometimes it was, and he tried to respect that.
"The Watchers say the stuff in the box is related to the First Slayer," she told him again. "I've met her before, already unlocked that door." Something flashed in her eyes, but then she shook her head.
"Be careful, Buffy."
She gave him a wan smile and he took her outstretched hand, let her reel him in close for a moment. He kissed her palm and steeled his face against the joy of being needed by her. Anything she asked of him, he would gladly give. He wished she would ask more than just these small gestures of support, but maybe it just wasn’t his time to play the hero.
"We should go," she intoned solemnly. He could feel the nervousness in her.
"Hold, slayer. Got something for you."
He slid the scabbard out of its hiding place beneath the bed. Anya had brought it over, traded it for the burbling boy. Spike still wasn't sure there was a jot of usefulness in the git, but it wasn't worth starting a row over.
He pointed the handle toward her and watched her pull the sword from its sheath. "Spike," she whispered, "this is..."
She had that possessive look on, the one that made him bristle a bit. Which meant it was genuine. "Slayer weapon, yeah. Knew there had to be more. Set about finding them."
Buffy swished it through the air experimentally a few times before sheathing it and hefting the scabbard over her shoulder. She stepped to him and ran her fingernails over his jaw line. "You..." She shook her head and kissed him lightly on the lips.
It didn't bother him much. Spike had learned that she shut down bits of herself when she went into soldier girl mode. The space she was in, she couldn't find those feelings. "You can thank me properly later, pet," he assured her.
Her eyes were big. "I hope... Spike, I hope you have some idea of what you are to me."
"And what is that, love?"
Her lip twitched between a frown and a smile. "I don't know if there's a word for it," she said finally.
Concubine, the word you're looking for is concubine. He pushed the voice away. Spike was getting good at pushing voices away. If he listened to the yew and haw of every shade haunting his soul he would lose himself completely. Then what good would he be to her? They popped up from time to time, wide-eyed and pale, to stare at him as he had a shower or dealt a hand in Willy’s back room. If he closed his eyes they were still there, just part of his punishment.
When they’d stopped coming to him in the caves, he’d known it was time to go home. He’d been free of them until the First arrived. Now he wasn’t sure if they were true ghosts or just the First playing one of Its games. Probably he ought to mention it to someone.
"I love you," she interrupted his reverie. "Is that enough for now?"
A slow grin spread across his face. That was always enough.
----------
Buffy felt cold and dizzy and tried really hard not to feel fear. Faith was next to her, after all. And Willow would get them out of there if anything wiggy happened. Not that Willow would necessarily know if anything wiggy happened. Or wiggier, anyway, than what was already happening, what with the three murky guys in wacky hats thinking at them.
"We know who you are."
"And we know why you're here."
"We've been waiting."
She was hearing the words in her head, not with her ears. Buffy hated when they did that. It was so creepy having the words just bouncing around in there out of nowhere. Faith didn't look any happier about it either.
"Cool," she snapped. "Why don't you tell us why we're here then?" Faith suggested.
"We have been here since the beginning."
"Now, we are almost at the end."
"The end of what?" Buffy asked urgently.
"You are the hellmouth's last guardian."
"Latest," Faith insisted. "You mean latest guardian."
"No."
Buffy was losing patience quickly with the stoic, cryptic routine. "Okay, um, I have a First to fight. So just tell me what I need to know. I came to learn."
"We cannot give you knowledge. Only power."
"Power sounds good." Faith replied.
Buffy felt something wrap around her and she was suddenly against the cave wall, held in the air against the stone. A ridge of rock dug into her spine. She sighed. She should have known something like this would happen. "What is this?"
She could see Faith trying to find some way to get up to her, a pissed off expression on her face. Like she was feeling passed over at not also being pinned to the wall by freaky shadow guys. Or inconvenienced at having to help the older slayer.
"We are at the beginning. The source of your strength. The well of the slayer's power."
"This is why we have brought you here."
"I thought we brought ourselves here," Buffy pointed out, struggling against her invisible bonds. "Listen, you guys, I’m already the slayer, bursting with power. Really don't need any more."
"The First Slayer did not talk so much." One of the shadowy figures opened a box. "Herein lies your truest strength."
"The energy of the demon. Its spirit."
"Its heart."
Grey fog rose from the box and wafted toward her. This was how they'd done it, she realized with bleak despair, how they'd made the First Slayer.
"Oh my God, look at that," Faith whispered. "It's beautiful."
"It must become one with you."
"I already have a heart!" Buffy yelled. "I don't need another one."
"Your heart is dead."
“It is foolish to refuse a gift from Y’w.”
“This is not the source of me” Buffy insisted.
“It is the source of all.”
"This will make you ready for the fight."
"By making me less human?" Buffy felt her heart seizing as the fog drifted nearer. She held her breath and shook her head frantically.
“Less what you are, more something else.”
“What you are now is not enough.”
"This is how it was then. How it must be now."
"No!" Faith was standing in front of them, looking furious. "She doesn't want it! Leave her the fuck alone. It's mine."
The fog shifted and Buffy fought against the bonds frantically as it drifted over to Faith. "Faith, no!"
The younger slayer turned on her. "Yes, Buffy. It's my turn to be first."
Buffy shook her head, feeling tears in her eyes. "You can't..."
Faith grinned. "You were with me, weren't you, in that hallway? We got the combination from the principal, Buffy. I need to open the lock."
Buffy held her breath, suddenly understanding. She nodded, just barely, and Faith nodded back. The younger slayer closed her eyes and gasped as the fog slammed into her. She staggered and then straightened her back.
The shadow men stepped forward but the floor beneath them began to shake and suddenly there was a blinding light where Faith had been.
"How do you like my darkness now?" Buffy heard before everything went dark.
---------
Everything looked murky, familiar but new. Her eyes swam trying to take in all the details and then suddenly there was light, light everywhere. And voices.
Something was making her hackles rise and she spun around to find an enemy kneeling over the prostrate form of her Sister. She itched to spring, but her sister's mark was all over the creature. A pet then. He would tend to her injured kin. She let them be to deal with the others who stared at her.
Daughters. She could feel them tugging at her, their fear and curiosity bouncing against her. She smiled at them, trying to reassure them. When she could remember how to speak, she would say something. There were others too, men, watching. Watching men. Watchers. They didn't seem to intend her harm, but she kept her distance. The ripple of their power in the air was dangerous.
There was another in the room too. Felt like a mate. Spicy with power. "Willow," she croaked.
"Faith?"
Feather touches on her arms and she followed their guide to stand upright. "Yeah, it's me." She swallowed, tried to think of a way to explain. "That's just not all I am any more."
Beyond the wave of red hair she could see the dark through the windows. It was cool out, and the stars were bright. Out there somewhere was the enemy. Her skin itched; she needed to be out.
"Faith." Her sister's voice, gentle and sweet, but with iron in it. “Are you okay?”
She could feel the confusion of the others, but it didn't matter. "I am… new. I feel new. And old, too.” She laughed and clamped a hand on Buffy’s shoulder.
"I think it was meant for you," said her sister solemnly.
Warmth flooded through her. She was stronger now. Faster and more than her sister slayer. Still though, still, she needed the other's approval.
"It is night. We should hunt," she insisted.
Buffy nodded and Faith smiled. "That's a good idea," she agreed. "We'll grab some weapons and follow you."
Faith grinned. "Nah, B." She shook her head, feeling more and more herself. "Lead on."
-------------------
Please let me know what you think of this, folks. I live for feedback.
In our eleventh installment Buffy and Faith encounter the Shadow Men.
Chapter 11: Darkness
Buffy didn't wear armor. She went into battle in jeans and boots, a sensible sweater. Still, watching her fasten her laces and pull back her hair with that set, determined face, Spike knew he was watching a warrior gird herself for battle. With that serious expression and severe hairstyle, it was hard to believe that not twenty minutes ago she had been riding him at a gallop, biting down hard on his arm to keep from screaming out her release. That was part of the preparations too, he knew, working out a little nervous energy. He couldn’t see his way to minding much.
She'd had one of her dreams again, he could tell. Her slayer dreams were something she didn't discuss with him, at least not directly. She'd tell the group or Giles a detail or two, but mostly she kept them to herself.
The slayer is always alone. Buffy wasn’t like other slayers, and she wouldn't have lived so long if that were always true for her. But sometimes it was, and he tried to respect that.
"The Watchers say the stuff in the box is related to the First Slayer," she told him again. "I've met her before, already unlocked that door." Something flashed in her eyes, but then she shook her head.
"Be careful, Buffy."
She gave him a wan smile and he took her outstretched hand, let her reel him in close for a moment. He kissed her palm and steeled his face against the joy of being needed by her. Anything she asked of him, he would gladly give. He wished she would ask more than just these small gestures of support, but maybe it just wasn’t his time to play the hero.
"We should go," she intoned solemnly. He could feel the nervousness in her.
"Hold, slayer. Got something for you."
He slid the scabbard out of its hiding place beneath the bed. Anya had brought it over, traded it for the burbling boy. Spike still wasn't sure there was a jot of usefulness in the git, but it wasn't worth starting a row over.
He pointed the handle toward her and watched her pull the sword from its sheath. "Spike," she whispered, "this is..."
She had that possessive look on, the one that made him bristle a bit. Which meant it was genuine. "Slayer weapon, yeah. Knew there had to be more. Set about finding them."
Buffy swished it through the air experimentally a few times before sheathing it and hefting the scabbard over her shoulder. She stepped to him and ran her fingernails over his jaw line. "You..." She shook her head and kissed him lightly on the lips.
It didn't bother him much. Spike had learned that she shut down bits of herself when she went into soldier girl mode. The space she was in, she couldn't find those feelings. "You can thank me properly later, pet," he assured her.
Her eyes were big. "I hope... Spike, I hope you have some idea of what you are to me."
"And what is that, love?"
Her lip twitched between a frown and a smile. "I don't know if there's a word for it," she said finally.
Concubine, the word you're looking for is concubine. He pushed the voice away. Spike was getting good at pushing voices away. If he listened to the yew and haw of every shade haunting his soul he would lose himself completely. Then what good would he be to her? They popped up from time to time, wide-eyed and pale, to stare at him as he had a shower or dealt a hand in Willy’s back room. If he closed his eyes they were still there, just part of his punishment.
When they’d stopped coming to him in the caves, he’d known it was time to go home. He’d been free of them until the First arrived. Now he wasn’t sure if they were true ghosts or just the First playing one of Its games. Probably he ought to mention it to someone.
"I love you," she interrupted his reverie. "Is that enough for now?"
A slow grin spread across his face. That was always enough.
----------
Buffy felt cold and dizzy and tried really hard not to feel fear. Faith was next to her, after all. And Willow would get them out of there if anything wiggy happened. Not that Willow would necessarily know if anything wiggy happened. Or wiggier, anyway, than what was already happening, what with the three murky guys in wacky hats thinking at them.
"We know who you are."
"And we know why you're here."
"We've been waiting."
She was hearing the words in her head, not with her ears. Buffy hated when they did that. It was so creepy having the words just bouncing around in there out of nowhere. Faith didn't look any happier about it either.
"Cool," she snapped. "Why don't you tell us why we're here then?" Faith suggested.
"We have been here since the beginning."
"Now, we are almost at the end."
"The end of what?" Buffy asked urgently.
"You are the hellmouth's last guardian."
"Latest," Faith insisted. "You mean latest guardian."
"No."
Buffy was losing patience quickly with the stoic, cryptic routine. "Okay, um, I have a First to fight. So just tell me what I need to know. I came to learn."
"We cannot give you knowledge. Only power."
"Power sounds good." Faith replied.
Buffy felt something wrap around her and she was suddenly against the cave wall, held in the air against the stone. A ridge of rock dug into her spine. She sighed. She should have known something like this would happen. "What is this?"
She could see Faith trying to find some way to get up to her, a pissed off expression on her face. Like she was feeling passed over at not also being pinned to the wall by freaky shadow guys. Or inconvenienced at having to help the older slayer.
"We are at the beginning. The source of your strength. The well of the slayer's power."
"This is why we have brought you here."
"I thought we brought ourselves here," Buffy pointed out, struggling against her invisible bonds. "Listen, you guys, I’m already the slayer, bursting with power. Really don't need any more."
"The First Slayer did not talk so much." One of the shadowy figures opened a box. "Herein lies your truest strength."
"The energy of the demon. Its spirit."
"Its heart."
Grey fog rose from the box and wafted toward her. This was how they'd done it, she realized with bleak despair, how they'd made the First Slayer.
"Oh my God, look at that," Faith whispered. "It's beautiful."
"It must become one with you."
"I already have a heart!" Buffy yelled. "I don't need another one."
"Your heart is dead."
“It is foolish to refuse a gift from Y’w.”
“This is not the source of me” Buffy insisted.
“It is the source of all.”
"This will make you ready for the fight."
"By making me less human?" Buffy felt her heart seizing as the fog drifted nearer. She held her breath and shook her head frantically.
“Less what you are, more something else.”
“What you are now is not enough.”
"This is how it was then. How it must be now."
"No!" Faith was standing in front of them, looking furious. "She doesn't want it! Leave her the fuck alone. It's mine."
The fog shifted and Buffy fought against the bonds frantically as it drifted over to Faith. "Faith, no!"
The younger slayer turned on her. "Yes, Buffy. It's my turn to be first."
Buffy shook her head, feeling tears in her eyes. "You can't..."
Faith grinned. "You were with me, weren't you, in that hallway? We got the combination from the principal, Buffy. I need to open the lock."
Buffy held her breath, suddenly understanding. She nodded, just barely, and Faith nodded back. The younger slayer closed her eyes and gasped as the fog slammed into her. She staggered and then straightened her back.
The shadow men stepped forward but the floor beneath them began to shake and suddenly there was a blinding light where Faith had been.
"How do you like my darkness now?" Buffy heard before everything went dark.
---------
Everything looked murky, familiar but new. Her eyes swam trying to take in all the details and then suddenly there was light, light everywhere. And voices.
Something was making her hackles rise and she spun around to find an enemy kneeling over the prostrate form of her Sister. She itched to spring, but her sister's mark was all over the creature. A pet then. He would tend to her injured kin. She let them be to deal with the others who stared at her.
Daughters. She could feel them tugging at her, their fear and curiosity bouncing against her. She smiled at them, trying to reassure them. When she could remember how to speak, she would say something. There were others too, men, watching. Watching men. Watchers. They didn't seem to intend her harm, but she kept her distance. The ripple of their power in the air was dangerous.
There was another in the room too. Felt like a mate. Spicy with power. "Willow," she croaked.
"Faith?"
Feather touches on her arms and she followed their guide to stand upright. "Yeah, it's me." She swallowed, tried to think of a way to explain. "That's just not all I am any more."
Beyond the wave of red hair she could see the dark through the windows. It was cool out, and the stars were bright. Out there somewhere was the enemy. Her skin itched; she needed to be out.
"Faith." Her sister's voice, gentle and sweet, but with iron in it. “Are you okay?”
She could feel the confusion of the others, but it didn't matter. "I am… new. I feel new. And old, too.” She laughed and clamped a hand on Buffy’s shoulder.
"I think it was meant for you," said her sister solemnly.
Warmth flooded through her. She was stronger now. Faster and more than her sister slayer. Still though, still, she needed the other's approval.
"It is night. We should hunt," she insisted.
Buffy nodded and Faith smiled. "That's a good idea," she agreed. "We'll grab some weapons and follow you."
Faith grinned. "Nah, B." She shook her head, feeling more and more herself. "Lead on."
-------------------
Please let me know what you think of this, folks. I live for feedback.
Enough
Author’s Note: Thanks as always to Kar for the quick turn around. Thank you to my readers and reviewers. I have half of the next chapter written, so hopefully I’ll be posting again soon. Feedback is treasured.
In our twelfth installment there are quarrels, questions, and rather more sex than I’ve written in a while.
Chapter Twelve: Enough
Willow brushed a leaf out of her hair and blinked, hoping her vision would clear enough to look at her watch. It had to be tomorrow. It had been the wee hours when they had ducked into their little morbid love nest, but it had to be the less wee hours now. Willow had classes and Scooby duties and she needed to bathe. She could feel the fabric of the quilt she'd created underneath them starting to unravel. She was tired.
Faith looked slightly phased too, at least. So she didn't have to be quite so embarrassed. Of course Faith had taken out a good dozen lesser demons and two Turok Han, so Willow had to admit that she probably couldn’t take the credit for wearing Faith out.
"We should probably get up before the blanket disappears," she warned, still breathing hard. "There are definitely parts of me I don't want touching a crypt floor."
"Guess your knees aren't on that list," Faith shot back.
Willow knew she was turning red, and knew it was stupid. Faith laughed, which didn't help. Her tongue between Willow's shoulder blades was somewhat more helpful though. "Like it when you turn all red, Red," she teased. "I know you're tired," Faith spoke into her skin. "So you just relax, Herm."
"Don't you ever get tired?" Willow sighed, but she had already dropped onto her back.
Faith's hands moved down to her hips and tugged. "Not really. You complaining?"
Willow licked her lips and hoped the quilt would hold for another hour or so. "Nope." She closed her eyes and pushed aside the guilt at not doing her work like a good girl to instead concentrate on the feel of her very own personal bad girl. Or demon or whatever, which was another thing she probably should have been working on.
She had managed to push that thought away too, and really get into the moment, when Faith pulled back and asked, “Never? Really? Not even just a one-time thing?”
The blanket fizzed out, a lot like the mood. Willow scrambled up before crypt dust adhered to anything intimate and shook out her dress.
Faith just sighed and started putting her pants back on. “I don’t see why this has to be such a big thing?”
Willow spun around, dress still only half on, eyes wide. She yanked it down the rest of the way, inhaled a deep breath through her nose and waved a finger at Faith. “The big is that I do not have sex with men, Faith. Nor do I want to participate in the having of sex with men. As I have made clear on several occasions.” She tried not to yell, but she could hear how shrill her voice was. “If you want to sleep with Principal Wood, just leave me out of it.”
She grabbed her shoes and looked hard at Faith’s face. “Whatever,” her lover replied.
“Whatever, well, that’s helpful. You know what? Just leave me out from now on and do whatever and whoever you want.” She slammed out of the crypt before Faith could say anything else. The cemetery grass felt good sliding between her toes. It was still chilly in the January morning though, so she slid her shoes on for the rest of her walk to the Magic Box.
--------
Once he had been washed and magic-bond, Andrew was really pretty useful, Anya had to admit. He cooked, he cleaned, and around the store he actually said things like 'could I help you find something' and 'please let me check with my manager.' It was a nice change from the Watchers, who still milled around pretending to work. But really Dawn and Andrew were the only employees worth anything.
Dear Xander,
We had a good holiday season this year. Sales were up from last year. I didn’t put up a tree or hang stockings, but I did watch your movie with Willow. We both miss you. Our anniversary is coming up. I know you said you wrote something on our wedding day to give me this year, but I don’t know what you did with it. I suppose it doesn’t matter, really. There’s an awfully big apocalypse coming. I might be joining you soon.
“Anya, there’s a lady looking for essence of water buffalo. Also, could I be excused for a little while?” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Willow still kinda freaks me out.”
Anya looked over to where Willow was sitting, huddled intently over her book and paying no attention to Andrew whatsoever. She was also disheveled, and wearing the same dress she’d been wearing the day before. Perhaps Tara had noticed too, and that was why she kept looking at Willow, looking away, and turning pink.
“Sure, go downstairs or something after you check out the customer at the register,” Anya allowed. Dawn was there too, after all. And she could find the water buffalo in her sleep.
“Oh boy!”
Anya turned back to Willow and found her staring at the book with a slightly queasy expression. Giles, the witch, and the younger Watchers had been working on the text for ages, but since no one knew where the useful parts would be, it was taking time to gain useful information.
“Are you okay?” Tara asked, very carefully placing a hand on Willow’s shoulder.
Willow nodded slowly and pointed at the page she was reading. “I think I just found out what Faith is now.”
Tara looked over her shoulder and read, “Y’w is a sky god, and he shrouds his people in a great cloud, so they say. The women, so the tales tell us, cried out to Y’w for a champion to protect their young from the Halflings. Thus did Y’w give a piece of his cloud to the priests and they did feed the cloud of Y’w to a girl to make the first living Weapon. Wow. Buffy said the shadow man called it the heart of a demon.”
Anya shrugged. “Demon didn’t always have the negative connotations it has now. It used to just mean any old kind of spirit or supernatural being. A lot of what humans call demons have nothing to do with the Old Ones or their descendants.”
Tara furrowed her brow. “So, Faith’s infused with a god now?”
“I just dumped a god,” Willow whispered.
Anya noticed that Tara’s hand was still on Willow’s shoulder. “Well, let’s hope Y’w is one of the merciful ones, then.”
------------
Dawn had intended to watch the training session, but there wasn’t really a lot of training going on. There was some half-hearted sparring between Deirdre and Solana, and Octavia was whapping the hanging bag around, but the other girls weren’t even pretending. Mostly what was going on was gossip.
“So is Faith your new leader now?” Andrew asked. “Buffy seemed like a good leader. Her hair is very shiny and she was always thwarting our evil schemes. Back when I was evil. Which I’m not anymore.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “I think Buffy’s still the boss,” she informed him.
“Yeah,” Connie agreed. “Although you’d think being filled with a god or demon or whatever would make her in charge.”
The girls kept talking, but Dawn was only half listening. She was bummed. Jeremy Sutter had been seen making out with stupid Melody Kendall at Kristen’s party on Saturday. Not like she cared about Kristen’s stupid parties or the fact that she never got invited. Or that Janice went anyway. Or what Jeremy Sutter did with his lips because it wasn’t like they were going out and they definitely weren’t going to be now, because who hadn’t made out with Melody Kendall? She’d pass on those germs.
“Perhaps Faith, she finds the responsibility of leadership unappealing?” Yvette suggested.
“Wait, shouldn’t it be a bigger deal, what she’s all filled up with?” Octavia asked. “I mean, god or demon, that doesn’t seem like a small question.”
Dawn shrugged. “Why? It’s not like god equals good, demon equals bad.”
“It doesn’t?” Andrew piped up.
“No, there was a god a few years back who wanted to open a gateway and let hell dimensions spill all over earth so she could get back to her home dimension. She wasn’t exactly friendly.”
“So what is Faith now?” Solana asked.
Dawn shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
----------
Among the many pros to the handcuffs, they really showed off his arms. Buffy hadn't really thought of herself as an arm girl, but with his hands bound to the headboard, she was free to run her hands and mouth over the muscles there. Which she did. Several times. Ignoring his squirming and his pleas for her to apply herself to other body parts, despite the fact that he was clearly enjoying what she was doing.
"You don't get to give the orders here," she reminded him pertly. She ran one stocking-clad foot along his leg to make him jump again.
"No." He gave her one of his saucier grins. "But I do beg rather nicely, don't I, love?"
She had to give him that. Buffy leaned back down and bit him on the neck, hard. He gasped and trembled underneath her. When she pulled back, she could see that helpless look she liked in his eyes.
Where had he learned to beg so nicely? She couldn't imagine that Drusilla had taught him, and it was a very bad idea to think much about the other obvious possibility. Still, she couldn't help thinking about it. And how they'd both referred to Angel as his sire, how in a weird way Spike and Drusilla had seemed like Angel's abandoned children.
"Where did you go, pet?" he whispered.
She smiled and lowered her face back to his neck. She nosed the silver necklace out of the way and ran her tongue over the skin she'd uncovered. "I'm right here," she assured him. By memory she located the key on the nightstand. She smiled when his arms went around her.
"Tired of me already?" he husked into her ear.
She still wasn't good with the dirty talk, not when sober and/or visible. Instead she guided one of his hands between her legs to show him that tired was really not the word. "I just... wanted you touching me."
Spike smiled and slid his fingers over her clit. "Like that, slayer?"
She laughed lightly. "Yeah, that'll work."
He kissed her then, his fingers still working. His other hand found her breasts and then so did his mouth. By the time he had worked his way down to meet his other hand she was already so close that it was hard to breath.
A few flicks of his tongue and she was churning underneath him, calling his name. She could feel him grinning, knew he had that 'I am so good' expression on, and it just made her hotter.
"Oh god!" She clamped her legs around his head to hold him just there, and then time stopped for a moment while sensation ran up her spine and exploded through her brain.
Before her head had cleared, he was over her, in her, everywhere. Spike guided her limp legs up over his shoulders, and she felt his breath through the silk on her skin. He fell forward, folding her nearly in half. She wrapped her hands around the bars of the headboard and hung on as he moved faster and faster.
She squeezed him just to hear that helpless groan and see the way his eyes went dark as he took her in. Buffy had some idea of how she must look, panting for him, breasts bouncing with each thrust. "You look delicious," he confirmed. He hit against just the right place and she moaned, bucking against him.
She locked her eyes to his, desperate to watch him watch her as she came. The way Spike still looked awed that he was in her bed, in her body, making her shout and thrash under him. She whispered his name and she felt him going too.
Buffy wrapped him in her arms and held him, trying to hold the feeling too. Aftershocks tripped through her and she felt him hardening again as she contracted around him. In his embrace she felt safe, loved, oddly warm. It was the second-best sensation she'd ever known.
In fact she wasn't all that eager to feel the other again. She was going to survive this time, they were going to win, and she was going to celebrate with her vampire. She just still had to figure out how.
Maybe she'd been stupid, maybe she was wrong and she should have been more like Faith. That fact was, she already had a demon that was part of her. Actually, at the moment, she thought with a slight flush, she had as much demon in her as she ever wanted. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't looking to be anything other than what she already was.
She was Buffy, the slayer, and that was enough.
-----------
Part of what I wanted to do in this chapter was show where Andrew is fitting in. There will be more plot movement next chapter.
In our twelfth installment there are quarrels, questions, and rather more sex than I’ve written in a while.
Chapter Twelve: Enough
Willow brushed a leaf out of her hair and blinked, hoping her vision would clear enough to look at her watch. It had to be tomorrow. It had been the wee hours when they had ducked into their little morbid love nest, but it had to be the less wee hours now. Willow had classes and Scooby duties and she needed to bathe. She could feel the fabric of the quilt she'd created underneath them starting to unravel. She was tired.
Faith looked slightly phased too, at least. So she didn't have to be quite so embarrassed. Of course Faith had taken out a good dozen lesser demons and two Turok Han, so Willow had to admit that she probably couldn’t take the credit for wearing Faith out.
"We should probably get up before the blanket disappears," she warned, still breathing hard. "There are definitely parts of me I don't want touching a crypt floor."
"Guess your knees aren't on that list," Faith shot back.
Willow knew she was turning red, and knew it was stupid. Faith laughed, which didn't help. Her tongue between Willow's shoulder blades was somewhat more helpful though. "Like it when you turn all red, Red," she teased. "I know you're tired," Faith spoke into her skin. "So you just relax, Herm."
"Don't you ever get tired?" Willow sighed, but she had already dropped onto her back.
Faith's hands moved down to her hips and tugged. "Not really. You complaining?"
Willow licked her lips and hoped the quilt would hold for another hour or so. "Nope." She closed her eyes and pushed aside the guilt at not doing her work like a good girl to instead concentrate on the feel of her very own personal bad girl. Or demon or whatever, which was another thing she probably should have been working on.
She had managed to push that thought away too, and really get into the moment, when Faith pulled back and asked, “Never? Really? Not even just a one-time thing?”
The blanket fizzed out, a lot like the mood. Willow scrambled up before crypt dust adhered to anything intimate and shook out her dress.
Faith just sighed and started putting her pants back on. “I don’t see why this has to be such a big thing?”
Willow spun around, dress still only half on, eyes wide. She yanked it down the rest of the way, inhaled a deep breath through her nose and waved a finger at Faith. “The big is that I do not have sex with men, Faith. Nor do I want to participate in the having of sex with men. As I have made clear on several occasions.” She tried not to yell, but she could hear how shrill her voice was. “If you want to sleep with Principal Wood, just leave me out of it.”
She grabbed her shoes and looked hard at Faith’s face. “Whatever,” her lover replied.
“Whatever, well, that’s helpful. You know what? Just leave me out from now on and do whatever and whoever you want.” She slammed out of the crypt before Faith could say anything else. The cemetery grass felt good sliding between her toes. It was still chilly in the January morning though, so she slid her shoes on for the rest of her walk to the Magic Box.
--------
Once he had been washed and magic-bond, Andrew was really pretty useful, Anya had to admit. He cooked, he cleaned, and around the store he actually said things like 'could I help you find something' and 'please let me check with my manager.' It was a nice change from the Watchers, who still milled around pretending to work. But really Dawn and Andrew were the only employees worth anything.
Dear Xander,
We had a good holiday season this year. Sales were up from last year. I didn’t put up a tree or hang stockings, but I did watch your movie with Willow. We both miss you. Our anniversary is coming up. I know you said you wrote something on our wedding day to give me this year, but I don’t know what you did with it. I suppose it doesn’t matter, really. There’s an awfully big apocalypse coming. I might be joining you soon.
“Anya, there’s a lady looking for essence of water buffalo. Also, could I be excused for a little while?” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Willow still kinda freaks me out.”
Anya looked over to where Willow was sitting, huddled intently over her book and paying no attention to Andrew whatsoever. She was also disheveled, and wearing the same dress she’d been wearing the day before. Perhaps Tara had noticed too, and that was why she kept looking at Willow, looking away, and turning pink.
“Sure, go downstairs or something after you check out the customer at the register,” Anya allowed. Dawn was there too, after all. And she could find the water buffalo in her sleep.
“Oh boy!”
Anya turned back to Willow and found her staring at the book with a slightly queasy expression. Giles, the witch, and the younger Watchers had been working on the text for ages, but since no one knew where the useful parts would be, it was taking time to gain useful information.
“Are you okay?” Tara asked, very carefully placing a hand on Willow’s shoulder.
Willow nodded slowly and pointed at the page she was reading. “I think I just found out what Faith is now.”
Tara looked over her shoulder and read, “Y’w is a sky god, and he shrouds his people in a great cloud, so they say. The women, so the tales tell us, cried out to Y’w for a champion to protect their young from the Halflings. Thus did Y’w give a piece of his cloud to the priests and they did feed the cloud of Y’w to a girl to make the first living Weapon. Wow. Buffy said the shadow man called it the heart of a demon.”
Anya shrugged. “Demon didn’t always have the negative connotations it has now. It used to just mean any old kind of spirit or supernatural being. A lot of what humans call demons have nothing to do with the Old Ones or their descendants.”
Tara furrowed her brow. “So, Faith’s infused with a god now?”
“I just dumped a god,” Willow whispered.
Anya noticed that Tara’s hand was still on Willow’s shoulder. “Well, let’s hope Y’w is one of the merciful ones, then.”
------------
Dawn had intended to watch the training session, but there wasn’t really a lot of training going on. There was some half-hearted sparring between Deirdre and Solana, and Octavia was whapping the hanging bag around, but the other girls weren’t even pretending. Mostly what was going on was gossip.
“So is Faith your new leader now?” Andrew asked. “Buffy seemed like a good leader. Her hair is very shiny and she was always thwarting our evil schemes. Back when I was evil. Which I’m not anymore.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “I think Buffy’s still the boss,” she informed him.
“Yeah,” Connie agreed. “Although you’d think being filled with a god or demon or whatever would make her in charge.”
The girls kept talking, but Dawn was only half listening. She was bummed. Jeremy Sutter had been seen making out with stupid Melody Kendall at Kristen’s party on Saturday. Not like she cared about Kristen’s stupid parties or the fact that she never got invited. Or that Janice went anyway. Or what Jeremy Sutter did with his lips because it wasn’t like they were going out and they definitely weren’t going to be now, because who hadn’t made out with Melody Kendall? She’d pass on those germs.
“Perhaps Faith, she finds the responsibility of leadership unappealing?” Yvette suggested.
“Wait, shouldn’t it be a bigger deal, what she’s all filled up with?” Octavia asked. “I mean, god or demon, that doesn’t seem like a small question.”
Dawn shrugged. “Why? It’s not like god equals good, demon equals bad.”
“It doesn’t?” Andrew piped up.
“No, there was a god a few years back who wanted to open a gateway and let hell dimensions spill all over earth so she could get back to her home dimension. She wasn’t exactly friendly.”
“So what is Faith now?” Solana asked.
Dawn shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
----------
Among the many pros to the handcuffs, they really showed off his arms. Buffy hadn't really thought of herself as an arm girl, but with his hands bound to the headboard, she was free to run her hands and mouth over the muscles there. Which she did. Several times. Ignoring his squirming and his pleas for her to apply herself to other body parts, despite the fact that he was clearly enjoying what she was doing.
"You don't get to give the orders here," she reminded him pertly. She ran one stocking-clad foot along his leg to make him jump again.
"No." He gave her one of his saucier grins. "But I do beg rather nicely, don't I, love?"
She had to give him that. Buffy leaned back down and bit him on the neck, hard. He gasped and trembled underneath her. When she pulled back, she could see that helpless look she liked in his eyes.
Where had he learned to beg so nicely? She couldn't imagine that Drusilla had taught him, and it was a very bad idea to think much about the other obvious possibility. Still, she couldn't help thinking about it. And how they'd both referred to Angel as his sire, how in a weird way Spike and Drusilla had seemed like Angel's abandoned children.
"Where did you go, pet?" he whispered.
She smiled and lowered her face back to his neck. She nosed the silver necklace out of the way and ran her tongue over the skin she'd uncovered. "I'm right here," she assured him. By memory she located the key on the nightstand. She smiled when his arms went around her.
"Tired of me already?" he husked into her ear.
She still wasn't good with the dirty talk, not when sober and/or visible. Instead she guided one of his hands between her legs to show him that tired was really not the word. "I just... wanted you touching me."
Spike smiled and slid his fingers over her clit. "Like that, slayer?"
She laughed lightly. "Yeah, that'll work."
He kissed her then, his fingers still working. His other hand found her breasts and then so did his mouth. By the time he had worked his way down to meet his other hand she was already so close that it was hard to breath.
A few flicks of his tongue and she was churning underneath him, calling his name. She could feel him grinning, knew he had that 'I am so good' expression on, and it just made her hotter.
"Oh god!" She clamped her legs around his head to hold him just there, and then time stopped for a moment while sensation ran up her spine and exploded through her brain.
Before her head had cleared, he was over her, in her, everywhere. Spike guided her limp legs up over his shoulders, and she felt his breath through the silk on her skin. He fell forward, folding her nearly in half. She wrapped her hands around the bars of the headboard and hung on as he moved faster and faster.
She squeezed him just to hear that helpless groan and see the way his eyes went dark as he took her in. Buffy had some idea of how she must look, panting for him, breasts bouncing with each thrust. "You look delicious," he confirmed. He hit against just the right place and she moaned, bucking against him.
She locked her eyes to his, desperate to watch him watch her as she came. The way Spike still looked awed that he was in her bed, in her body, making her shout and thrash under him. She whispered his name and she felt him going too.
Buffy wrapped him in her arms and held him, trying to hold the feeling too. Aftershocks tripped through her and she felt him hardening again as she contracted around him. In his embrace she felt safe, loved, oddly warm. It was the second-best sensation she'd ever known.
In fact she wasn't all that eager to feel the other again. She was going to survive this time, they were going to win, and she was going to celebrate with her vampire. She just still had to figure out how.
Maybe she'd been stupid, maybe she was wrong and she should have been more like Faith. That fact was, she already had a demon that was part of her. Actually, at the moment, she thought with a slight flush, she had as much demon in her as she ever wanted. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't looking to be anything other than what she already was.
She was Buffy, the slayer, and that was enough.
-----------
Part of what I wanted to do in this chapter was show where Andrew is fitting in. There will be more plot movement next chapter.
Clues and Other Frustrations
Author’s Note: Thanks again to Kar for the fast turnaround. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers for the encouragement. Fourteen is already drafted, so please stay tuned. Feedback is wonderful stuff.
In our thirteen installment the Hellmouth gets all focus and there are dreams, visions, and clues.
Chapter 13: Clues And Other Frustrations
Dawn ran down the hall, trying to get out of RJ’s way. He, in turn, was being chased by a pack of screaming girls. On her right another girl blinked in and out of sight. Other students were starting to develop horns and tails. There was a lot of screaming.
She tumbled into a row of lockers, which started flying open and spilling into the hall. She caught her breath for a minute while RJ and his horde raced by. She had called Buffy, but in the meantime she had to avoid peril herself. Why wasn't anyone on the PA, telling the students to leave? She nearly tripped down the stairs in her haste to get to Wood's office.
There was a trio of students scratching at his door and whining in a spooky, animal way. "Get out!" she screeched in full-on tantrum mode. "Get out, get out, get out!" They covered their ears and took off running.
Alone in the front office, she jammed the mike button. "Evacuate the school immediately!" she yelled slowly and clearly, trying to think of some reasonable excuse. "Chemical spill in the science lab. Evacuate immediately!"
Students started yelling, feet pounding on linoleum. From the window she could see them spilling out onto the front lawn. As they moved away from the school they seemed to calm, weird appendages disappearing, people looking confused and embarrassed, but less crazy.
She sighed heavily and leaned against Wood's door. Unfortunately it popped open and the reason for his distraction became obvious.
"Augh!" she yelled, trying to pull the door shut with her eyes squeezed shut.
"What? What's going on!?"
She spun around and flung herself into her sister's arms. "Don't look!" she shouted.
Too late. "Oh my god!" Buffy gasped. "Put your pants back on!"
Dawn let herself be dragged into the hallway, where she and Buffy waited. Eventually Faith and Principal Wood emerged with everything covered. He looked embarrassed; Faith mostly looked annoyed.
"Where did my students go?"
Dawn couldn't quite look him in the eye. "I made them evacuate. All kinds of weird stuff is happening. You know this place is built over a Hellmouth, right?"
"That's why I took the job," he replied.
"What kind of weird stuff?" Buffy asked.
Dawn explained. Her sister shrugged at the principal. "We've seen that kind of thing before, just... not all at once." She frowned. "Usually the Hellmouth doesn't get really perky until April or May."
"Well, something's moved up the time table," Dawn muttered.
Faith cleared her throat. "I guess we better call a meeting."
"Good idea," Buffy agreed. She looked the two of them over. "I'll give you an hour and a half."
------
Almost like she'd summoned him, he was there when Buffy closed her eyes. They were sitting in the Magic Box at the research table. “Shouldn’t we be walking down some dark corridor?”
Xander threw up his hands. “They’re dreams, Buff. Don’t expect continuity. Thanks for not replacing me," he offered with a smile.
"You're the best heart ever," she replied brightly. She couldn't help looking at the bleeding exit wound that showed how shattered her old heart really was.
"Things are going to move fast," he warned her. "You need to be ready."
"I have no idea where Jonathan is," she sighed. "And I can't hurt the First. I can only hurt his vessel or whatever."
"If you wait too long, you might not even be able to do that," he said sadly.
Buffy rubbed her eyes. "More girls are going to die, aren't they?"
Xander reached out to squeeze her hand, but didn't contradict her.
"I can't believe Jonathan has gone all Big Evil on us."
"He was trying to kill you last year."
"Not really. He helped me a couple of times, actually. I couldn't have stopped the bank robbery without him."
"This is the same guy who made a demon trying to reshape the world to make himself a celebrity genius super-spy, right?" Xander frowned. “I wonder why he didn’t make himself taller while he was at it.”
Buffy winced. "Yeah. There is that. I guess I can kinda see how he was drawn to the Big Evil. Big Evil tends to make with the Big Promises of power and renown."
“Renown? You’ve been spending time with Giles.” His smile faded. "Can you take a message for me? Tell Anya it's in the back of the big file cabinet. Third drawer."
"Huh." She tilted her head at him, no idea where that had come from.
Xander clutched her arm tight, suddenly, tight enough to hurt. Which probably wasn't really possible for Xander. "Look, they tell me not to be this direct, but I don't know if I'll see you again."
"Xander, you're scaring me," she protested.
"There's a clue at the school, looks like a bad tattoo. You have to find it." He stood and pulled her up too, then hugged her tight. "I love you, Buffy."
"Why wouldn't I see you again?" she demanded, but then she fell forward into empty air.
"Okay," she whispered to herself, "clues that look like bad tattoos."
She blinked a few times and shouted at the empty air. "That was direct?"
--------
His mother was there and Angel too. A few times Dru pranced through. Actually that was faintly reassuring. The First wasn’t very good at impersonating Drusilla. Yes, she was mad, but there was sense in her madness if you listened long enough. But it was also disconcerting because he wasn’t sure which others were the First and which his own personal ghosts.
Spike tried talking to them, apologizing, ignoring them. They stayed and stayed and stayed. Staring and silent, accusations frozen on their lips, and there was nothing he could say in his defense, nothing defensible in what he’d done. He couldn’t even tell what part of the apartment he was in. He was pressed in on all sides, left cowering on the ubiquitous grey carpet.
Then there was light all around, and warm arms lifting him. He felt his clothes falling away and then soft cotton under him. Warm blood smell and warm girl smell. He drank and fell back.
“I’ll get you some more.” But he was already fading. “And you’ve got to pull yourself together, Spike. I’m going to need you in this fight.”
------------
How were they ever going to find any information on this thing? The search results would be enormous. Every metal band ever had used these symbols on an album cover at some point. Narrowing it down would take forever. Willow almost laughed aloud.
The pair of drained bodies in the corner kinda killed the hysterical laughter impulse.
“This is where I poured the pig’s blood,” Andrew explained.
“Pour on a little blood, out pops an ubervamp?” Buffy asked. Willow saw her eyes linger on the bodies as well.
“Nothing popped out when I did it!” Andrew protested. “It just got… kinda glowy.”
Willow sighed. “So you activated it or something, and then Jonathan brought the girls to raise the Turok Han.”
“You don’t know Jonathan did it,” Andrew retorted before caving. “But he did take my boning knife when he drained me.”
Buffy made a face of extreme disgust. “You should have told us about this sooner.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
Willow grabbed the little weasel by the throat and pressed him against the wall. “Listen, you tiny worm of a man, you are protected from your buddy right now by my wards and Buffy’s good graces. I wouldn’t get too cute about it.”
Andrew coughed up an apology and Willow let him go. She took a few pictures with her digital camera and then motioned for Buffy and Andrew to back away. The thing was making her feel woozy and she didn’t really want to know what would happen if she stuck around. Some experiments weren’t worth performing. “Let’s get out of here,” she advised.
Buffy told Andrew to walk ahead, so hopefully he wouldn’t overhear them. They had well-founded trust issues with the guy. “I’ll call the police,” she volunteered quietly. “We should stake this place out at night, make sure he can’t bring any more victims back here.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Willow agreed. “Can I volunteer Faith for the first shift?”
Buffy gave a conspiratorial wince. “That bad?”
Willow sighed. “It’s just… it was all so crazy to begin with, and now? I just feel stupid.”
“Love makes you do the wacky,” Buffy quoted. “And hormones make you do the even wackier.” She frowned. “This is going to sound really weird, but can you stay with Spike when it’s my turn to watch the seal? He shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Willow said she would, because that was what friends did. Friends agreed to baby-sit their friend’s former serial killer boyfriends during potential panic attacks brought on by the haunting of his victims or a disembodied root of all evil. Or both.
“You’re a really good friend, Willow.”
She squeezed Buffy’s hand. “Hey, you helped me round up my boyfriend a lock him up in a cage for his own protection. I sorta owe you.”
Buffy laughed. “We better call an emergency meeting after I talk to the police. I’ll send Andrew out for cappuccinos.”
When they stepped into the Magic Box, Anya was heaped on the research table sobbing. Giles patted her shoulder and Tara stroked her hair, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect. There was an envelope and a few scattered pages near Anya’s head. Andrew rushed forward and started reading them. She raised her reddened eyes to Buffy and wiped at her wet face. “It was there, right where you said he told you.”
Willow watched Buffy start to sway and then lean against a display case. “I thought it was just a dream, you know. I didn’t think… it’s really been him all this time.” Two tears glided down Buffy’s face.
“Why you?” Anya wailed. “Why did he never come to me?”
“It’s so touching!” Andrew sniffed. “And also faintly erotic.”
“Give me that!” Anya yelled, pulling the papers carefully out of his hands.
Giles was looking increasingly perturbed. “I’ll just put some tea on,” he announced before making a hasty retreat to his office.
“The stupid Powers, probably,” Buffy ventured. “He was bringing me messages from them. And they’re assholes. I know Xander would be in your dreams every night if he could.”
“Xander visited you in your dreams?” Now Willow was getting jealous too. She’d been Xander’s best friend since kindergarten. But Buffy was the special one, so of course she got the visions.
Buffy and Anya hugged while Tara looked on, getting a little teary herself. Willow stepped outside. The night air was cool on her heated face.
“When my mother died, I thought she’d visit me too. She never did.”
Willow turned to face Tara. “Probably he was afraid to visit me. Afraid that if I knew he was out there in the ether somewhere I’d try to bring him back to earth.”
“Willow—”
“Look, Tara, it’s great of you to try to do the supportive ex thing where we’re still friends and you still care about me—”
“I do still care about you, Willow.”
“But when I needed you to be there, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” Willow felt like she’d uncapped something deep and dirty she’d been bottling up for months. It felt good, but also a little scary, to be letting those feelings out. “So if you could just leave me alone to grieve on my own, that would be swell. And we both know you can do that.”
Tara’s face cycled through shock and shame to anger before she turned on her heel and marched back into the store. Willow took a deep breath. A walk might do her some good. She’d give Andrew a break and go get the coffee herself.
----------
It might have been cool out, but she didn’t really feel the cold anymore. Chills instead indicated the presence of the enemy, and warmth the presence of family of friends. She crept along the school’s perimeter, but still there was nothing. Maybe he was taking the night off. Again. It irritated her; she wanted a hunt and a kill and instead she had to keep watch for some mere human. Although the way his body count was rising, he rivaled a vampire for kills.
Despite the lack of cold, she drew her jacket tighter around herself and nuzzled the collar. It still smelled like Willow. Not that she missed Willow. She just missed getting regular orgasms. That was all. The principal had been fun and everything, but after a few bouts the lack of stamina started to bug. The grateful couple of college kids she’d saved a few nights ago had been very drunk and very appreciative, but that hadn’t really scratched the itch either.
Maybe she’d get a pet like her sister. Vampires usually made lousy pets, some sort of ancestral memory insisted. So maybe a Lushokite or something, or stick with humans but find a witchy guy who was handy with endurance charms. Of course the guy they were hunting was a warlock, so that wasn’t sounding too good at the moment either.
Willow was witchy, and she hadn’t needed a charm.
Faith shook her head to clear her mind and took deep breaths of the night air. She took another walk around the perimeter. Still no signs of this Jonathan guy anywhere. At least depriving the thing of blood meant the students weren’t going crazy anymore. But a week with no signs of activity, it was making her tense. The sun would come up in just over an hour, she mused. She might as well hunt something.
Then it hit her square in the gut. The smell of blood. Lots of blood. Fresh blood. Coming from inside the school. She forced a window open and raced through the halls, down the stairs. The fucking tunnels! They were so fucking stupid! The mayor’s tunnels were still there, all paths leading to the Hellmouth. The smell of blood was thick, choking. It wasn’t just one body bleeding out down there. Either he was trying to raise a small army of super vamps, or he was opening the gate for something big.
Faith clutched the scythe and ran faster.
------------
Sorry to anyone who hoped Faith wasn’t going to go there. I realize a few of these scenes were short, but I think they worked better that way. The next chapter will have some action (various flavors) and will hopefully be posted soon. Please review!
In our thirteen installment the Hellmouth gets all focus and there are dreams, visions, and clues.
Chapter 13: Clues And Other Frustrations
Dawn ran down the hall, trying to get out of RJ’s way. He, in turn, was being chased by a pack of screaming girls. On her right another girl blinked in and out of sight. Other students were starting to develop horns and tails. There was a lot of screaming.
She tumbled into a row of lockers, which started flying open and spilling into the hall. She caught her breath for a minute while RJ and his horde raced by. She had called Buffy, but in the meantime she had to avoid peril herself. Why wasn't anyone on the PA, telling the students to leave? She nearly tripped down the stairs in her haste to get to Wood's office.
There was a trio of students scratching at his door and whining in a spooky, animal way. "Get out!" she screeched in full-on tantrum mode. "Get out, get out, get out!" They covered their ears and took off running.
Alone in the front office, she jammed the mike button. "Evacuate the school immediately!" she yelled slowly and clearly, trying to think of some reasonable excuse. "Chemical spill in the science lab. Evacuate immediately!"
Students started yelling, feet pounding on linoleum. From the window she could see them spilling out onto the front lawn. As they moved away from the school they seemed to calm, weird appendages disappearing, people looking confused and embarrassed, but less crazy.
She sighed heavily and leaned against Wood's door. Unfortunately it popped open and the reason for his distraction became obvious.
"Augh!" she yelled, trying to pull the door shut with her eyes squeezed shut.
"What? What's going on!?"
She spun around and flung herself into her sister's arms. "Don't look!" she shouted.
Too late. "Oh my god!" Buffy gasped. "Put your pants back on!"
Dawn let herself be dragged into the hallway, where she and Buffy waited. Eventually Faith and Principal Wood emerged with everything covered. He looked embarrassed; Faith mostly looked annoyed.
"Where did my students go?"
Dawn couldn't quite look him in the eye. "I made them evacuate. All kinds of weird stuff is happening. You know this place is built over a Hellmouth, right?"
"That's why I took the job," he replied.
"What kind of weird stuff?" Buffy asked.
Dawn explained. Her sister shrugged at the principal. "We've seen that kind of thing before, just... not all at once." She frowned. "Usually the Hellmouth doesn't get really perky until April or May."
"Well, something's moved up the time table," Dawn muttered.
Faith cleared her throat. "I guess we better call a meeting."
"Good idea," Buffy agreed. She looked the two of them over. "I'll give you an hour and a half."
------
Almost like she'd summoned him, he was there when Buffy closed her eyes. They were sitting in the Magic Box at the research table. “Shouldn’t we be walking down some dark corridor?”
Xander threw up his hands. “They’re dreams, Buff. Don’t expect continuity. Thanks for not replacing me," he offered with a smile.
"You're the best heart ever," she replied brightly. She couldn't help looking at the bleeding exit wound that showed how shattered her old heart really was.
"Things are going to move fast," he warned her. "You need to be ready."
"I have no idea where Jonathan is," she sighed. "And I can't hurt the First. I can only hurt his vessel or whatever."
"If you wait too long, you might not even be able to do that," he said sadly.
Buffy rubbed her eyes. "More girls are going to die, aren't they?"
Xander reached out to squeeze her hand, but didn't contradict her.
"I can't believe Jonathan has gone all Big Evil on us."
"He was trying to kill you last year."
"Not really. He helped me a couple of times, actually. I couldn't have stopped the bank robbery without him."
"This is the same guy who made a demon trying to reshape the world to make himself a celebrity genius super-spy, right?" Xander frowned. “I wonder why he didn’t make himself taller while he was at it.”
Buffy winced. "Yeah. There is that. I guess I can kinda see how he was drawn to the Big Evil. Big Evil tends to make with the Big Promises of power and renown."
“Renown? You’ve been spending time with Giles.” His smile faded. "Can you take a message for me? Tell Anya it's in the back of the big file cabinet. Third drawer."
"Huh." She tilted her head at him, no idea where that had come from.
Xander clutched her arm tight, suddenly, tight enough to hurt. Which probably wasn't really possible for Xander. "Look, they tell me not to be this direct, but I don't know if I'll see you again."
"Xander, you're scaring me," she protested.
"There's a clue at the school, looks like a bad tattoo. You have to find it." He stood and pulled her up too, then hugged her tight. "I love you, Buffy."
"Why wouldn't I see you again?" she demanded, but then she fell forward into empty air.
"Okay," she whispered to herself, "clues that look like bad tattoos."
She blinked a few times and shouted at the empty air. "That was direct?"
--------
His mother was there and Angel too. A few times Dru pranced through. Actually that was faintly reassuring. The First wasn’t very good at impersonating Drusilla. Yes, she was mad, but there was sense in her madness if you listened long enough. But it was also disconcerting because he wasn’t sure which others were the First and which his own personal ghosts.
Spike tried talking to them, apologizing, ignoring them. They stayed and stayed and stayed. Staring and silent, accusations frozen on their lips, and there was nothing he could say in his defense, nothing defensible in what he’d done. He couldn’t even tell what part of the apartment he was in. He was pressed in on all sides, left cowering on the ubiquitous grey carpet.
Then there was light all around, and warm arms lifting him. He felt his clothes falling away and then soft cotton under him. Warm blood smell and warm girl smell. He drank and fell back.
“I’ll get you some more.” But he was already fading. “And you’ve got to pull yourself together, Spike. I’m going to need you in this fight.”
------------
How were they ever going to find any information on this thing? The search results would be enormous. Every metal band ever had used these symbols on an album cover at some point. Narrowing it down would take forever. Willow almost laughed aloud.
The pair of drained bodies in the corner kinda killed the hysterical laughter impulse.
“This is where I poured the pig’s blood,” Andrew explained.
“Pour on a little blood, out pops an ubervamp?” Buffy asked. Willow saw her eyes linger on the bodies as well.
“Nothing popped out when I did it!” Andrew protested. “It just got… kinda glowy.”
Willow sighed. “So you activated it or something, and then Jonathan brought the girls to raise the Turok Han.”
“You don’t know Jonathan did it,” Andrew retorted before caving. “But he did take my boning knife when he drained me.”
Buffy made a face of extreme disgust. “You should have told us about this sooner.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
Willow grabbed the little weasel by the throat and pressed him against the wall. “Listen, you tiny worm of a man, you are protected from your buddy right now by my wards and Buffy’s good graces. I wouldn’t get too cute about it.”
Andrew coughed up an apology and Willow let him go. She took a few pictures with her digital camera and then motioned for Buffy and Andrew to back away. The thing was making her feel woozy and she didn’t really want to know what would happen if she stuck around. Some experiments weren’t worth performing. “Let’s get out of here,” she advised.
Buffy told Andrew to walk ahead, so hopefully he wouldn’t overhear them. They had well-founded trust issues with the guy. “I’ll call the police,” she volunteered quietly. “We should stake this place out at night, make sure he can’t bring any more victims back here.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Willow agreed. “Can I volunteer Faith for the first shift?”
Buffy gave a conspiratorial wince. “That bad?”
Willow sighed. “It’s just… it was all so crazy to begin with, and now? I just feel stupid.”
“Love makes you do the wacky,” Buffy quoted. “And hormones make you do the even wackier.” She frowned. “This is going to sound really weird, but can you stay with Spike when it’s my turn to watch the seal? He shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Willow said she would, because that was what friends did. Friends agreed to baby-sit their friend’s former serial killer boyfriends during potential panic attacks brought on by the haunting of his victims or a disembodied root of all evil. Or both.
“You’re a really good friend, Willow.”
She squeezed Buffy’s hand. “Hey, you helped me round up my boyfriend a lock him up in a cage for his own protection. I sorta owe you.”
Buffy laughed. “We better call an emergency meeting after I talk to the police. I’ll send Andrew out for cappuccinos.”
When they stepped into the Magic Box, Anya was heaped on the research table sobbing. Giles patted her shoulder and Tara stroked her hair, but it didn’t seem to be having any effect. There was an envelope and a few scattered pages near Anya’s head. Andrew rushed forward and started reading them. She raised her reddened eyes to Buffy and wiped at her wet face. “It was there, right where you said he told you.”
Willow watched Buffy start to sway and then lean against a display case. “I thought it was just a dream, you know. I didn’t think… it’s really been him all this time.” Two tears glided down Buffy’s face.
“Why you?” Anya wailed. “Why did he never come to me?”
“It’s so touching!” Andrew sniffed. “And also faintly erotic.”
“Give me that!” Anya yelled, pulling the papers carefully out of his hands.
Giles was looking increasingly perturbed. “I’ll just put some tea on,” he announced before making a hasty retreat to his office.
“The stupid Powers, probably,” Buffy ventured. “He was bringing me messages from them. And they’re assholes. I know Xander would be in your dreams every night if he could.”
“Xander visited you in your dreams?” Now Willow was getting jealous too. She’d been Xander’s best friend since kindergarten. But Buffy was the special one, so of course she got the visions.
Buffy and Anya hugged while Tara looked on, getting a little teary herself. Willow stepped outside. The night air was cool on her heated face.
“When my mother died, I thought she’d visit me too. She never did.”
Willow turned to face Tara. “Probably he was afraid to visit me. Afraid that if I knew he was out there in the ether somewhere I’d try to bring him back to earth.”
“Willow—”
“Look, Tara, it’s great of you to try to do the supportive ex thing where we’re still friends and you still care about me—”
“I do still care about you, Willow.”
“But when I needed you to be there, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” Willow felt like she’d uncapped something deep and dirty she’d been bottling up for months. It felt good, but also a little scary, to be letting those feelings out. “So if you could just leave me alone to grieve on my own, that would be swell. And we both know you can do that.”
Tara’s face cycled through shock and shame to anger before she turned on her heel and marched back into the store. Willow took a deep breath. A walk might do her some good. She’d give Andrew a break and go get the coffee herself.
----------
It might have been cool out, but she didn’t really feel the cold anymore. Chills instead indicated the presence of the enemy, and warmth the presence of family of friends. She crept along the school’s perimeter, but still there was nothing. Maybe he was taking the night off. Again. It irritated her; she wanted a hunt and a kill and instead she had to keep watch for some mere human. Although the way his body count was rising, he rivaled a vampire for kills.
Despite the lack of cold, she drew her jacket tighter around herself and nuzzled the collar. It still smelled like Willow. Not that she missed Willow. She just missed getting regular orgasms. That was all. The principal had been fun and everything, but after a few bouts the lack of stamina started to bug. The grateful couple of college kids she’d saved a few nights ago had been very drunk and very appreciative, but that hadn’t really scratched the itch either.
Maybe she’d get a pet like her sister. Vampires usually made lousy pets, some sort of ancestral memory insisted. So maybe a Lushokite or something, or stick with humans but find a witchy guy who was handy with endurance charms. Of course the guy they were hunting was a warlock, so that wasn’t sounding too good at the moment either.
Willow was witchy, and she hadn’t needed a charm.
Faith shook her head to clear her mind and took deep breaths of the night air. She took another walk around the perimeter. Still no signs of this Jonathan guy anywhere. At least depriving the thing of blood meant the students weren’t going crazy anymore. But a week with no signs of activity, it was making her tense. The sun would come up in just over an hour, she mused. She might as well hunt something.
Then it hit her square in the gut. The smell of blood. Lots of blood. Fresh blood. Coming from inside the school. She forced a window open and raced through the halls, down the stairs. The fucking tunnels! They were so fucking stupid! The mayor’s tunnels were still there, all paths leading to the Hellmouth. The smell of blood was thick, choking. It wasn’t just one body bleeding out down there. Either he was trying to raise a small army of super vamps, or he was opening the gate for something big.
Faith clutched the scythe and ran faster.
------------
Sorry to anyone who hoped Faith wasn’t going to go there. I realize a few of these scenes were short, but I think they worked better that way. The next chapter will have some action (various flavors) and will hopefully be posted soon. Please review!
Two Slayers, No Waiting
Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar for the fantastic beta job and to my wonderful readers and reviewers. Fifteen is almost drafted, so look for an update soon.
In our fourteenth installment the slayers take on the Beast.
Chapter 14: Two Slayers, No Waiting
She was too late.
By the time Faith stumbled on the scene, a huge guy in a Greek sweatshirt was dropping the body of his last victim on the seal. Then the glamour evaporated and she was staring at Jonathan. She'd been too late, and the ten boys were already dead. Their smell was funny; they'd been drugged. They all wore the same sweatshirts. He must have convinced them he was taking them on some sort of hazing ritual. And the gullible pledges would have seen the same movies she had and bought it hook, line, and sinker.
Clever. She was totally going to kill him.
Before she got the chance, something glowed under the pile of bodies. She heard metal screaming and then the boys were falling through the open seal into the ground. Or probably not the ground, but whatever the seal was a door too. She started to rush forward, determined to slice him in half.
A roar tore through the air and a hideous head emerged from the hole. Then a second. Then a third. Cold washed over her in waves, making her hair stand up. The creature clawed its way up and then spread its wings.
It was transparent, glowing orange. Just a phantom, she tried to reassure herself as it glided over to Jonathan and wrapped its wings around the small man. Jonathan moaned, a sick happy sound that made her hackles rise higher. The beast began to fade away and Jonathan began to take on the creature's orange glow.
Suddenly it hit her: this was the same thing that had happened to her.
No way, no way was she letting that piece of shit get more powerful. She pulled her old dagger from her boot and took aim. Jonathan screamed as the blade pierced his shoulder. The glow faded from his body and the creature shrieked.
Jonathan looked around frantically, but his eyes couldn't pick her out in the darkened basement. "I'll get you, you bitches!" he shouted. He ripped the knife from his shoulder and clamped his hand over the wound. Faith felt an immense sense of relief, but that faded fast as she and Jonathan simultaneously realized the same thing.
The creature had become solid.
The boy ran, limping with pain, leaving Faith alone to face the biggest demon she had ever seen. Unfortunately it had also seen her.
It turned one of its massive heads in her direction and took a swing with a taloned arm. She managed to parry with the scythe and jump out of the way of his second arm. When the third arm came at her, she swiped with the blade and took its claw clean off.
It wasn't happy about that. It gave an unholy cry and swung at her with its three good arms at once. She managed to block two, but the third lifted her off her feet and hurled her into a wall. Head spinning and one arm seriously hurting, she staggered to her feet and reeled on the thing again. One of the heads seemed to smile at her as it swung again.
She tried to block and missed. The talon scraped across her leg, taking leather and skin with it. Blood flowed down her leg and the pain made her woozy. Faith forced herself to stay upright and take another swipe. For what felt like days, she battled the beast, finally succeeding in taking of one head and seriously mangling the second. They took turns mauling each other until her blood and its ichors were indistinguishable on the slick dirt floor.
"Hey! Over here, big guy!"
Buffy spun by, taking a slash at the creature's abdomen. She saw one claw glance over her sister slayer's arm, but Buffy didn't seem to feel it. Spike hacked off another of its arms. Then her view was blocked by the girls, struggling with a pack of Bringers. She could hear Tara and Willow chanting. There was someone else there too, flitting in and out, but her incredible hearing still couldn't make out what that person was saying.
"Take that one back to the house and chain him up."
Faith couldn't tell who was speaking. Blood seeped out of her leg and the throbbing was interfering with her hearing. Soft arms came up around her waist.
"Have to fight," she protested.
"You're in no shape to fight, but you might be tomorrow if we get you out of here now."
Willow, she realized. She could see Tara still speaking, arms raised. The girls had finished off the Bringers and were running around trying to distract the monster while Buffy and Spike systematically chopped it to pieces.
"Keep her safe!" she heard Buffy scream.
Oddly enough, Faith felt safe for the first time in a long time.
-----
Buffy felt like they had been at it for hours. The girls were uninjured because she'd made them stay back. The were exhausted from fighting the crowd of Bringers, but then again if they hadn't been attacked by such a big group, they might never have realized that something big was happening.
Her own body was covered with cuts and there was a nasty gash on her shoulder. Spike was bloodied too, but they were slowly killing the First's beast. After the first few swings, the First had appeared in various forms to taunt and distract them, but now that they were clearly defeating Its pet there was no sign of It.
The beast teetered back and forth. She started to worry one of the girls might be crushed. "We can take it from here. You guys were amazing. Now, go home!" she managed to pant out.
From the corner of her eye she saw the twins dragging the unconscious Bringer behind them as they left. Spike, little scratches bleeding on his ridged brow, gave a vicious roar and lopped off the thing's last head. It flopped ungracefully over the seal. She marched over and drove her sword through its guts, just the make sure. Drops of her blood spattered what was left of its scaly body and the metal plate underneath, but her injuries were already healing.
She made her way over to Spike, who was leaning against the wall, breathing hard. "You seem more yourself," she commented. He did, and it was a relief because the freak outs were really scaring her.
"Good fight," he replied, but his eyes were already slipping away. "Stay back," he pleaded quietly.
"Huh?" She crossed her arms, pissed and confused. And also really turned on. Seeing him fight was always so... there was no way she was backing off.
"The blood," he explained. "Your blood."
"Oh." She kept moving toward him. Part of her was screaming that this was a really bad idea, but it had worked once before. She ran her fingers across her shoulder and pressed her wet hand against his mouth.
He opened his mouth to protest, and she thrust a finger in before he could say anything. His demon eyes went wide and he sucked the digit further into his mouth.
"Oh Buffy."
That faraway look in his eyes was gone. She gave him a sultry smile, feeling the heat inside her spread out through her limbs as he licked her hand clean.
She had intended to take him home first, away from the demon corpse and its assorted sawed-off bits, but she had run out of patience. She pushed his jacked off and then ripped her ruined shirt open at the shoulder.
With a growl he grabbed her and pressed her to the wall, mouth latched to her wound. She grabbed his hips with her knees and bucked against him as he sucked. His saliva would keep her bleeding she knew, but she also knew he would stop before he did any real damage.
"Love you," she gasped out as she fumbled with her jeans. Shaking and starting to feel a bit light-headed, she pulled open his fly.
Spike growled into her skin once more, then pulled back and clasped a hand over her shoulder to stop the blood. She pushed up to kiss his fangy mouth quick before he shook himself back to human form.
"Buffy, you--"
She grabbed him and guided him in, effectively shutting him up. His head fell back to her shoulder and she shouted when he thrust forward hard. "Yes!" She could feel his face shifting against her, helpless against the smell of her blood. "Oh god!"
The feeling of him, buried inside her and the effortless way he pinned her to the wall even after a long fight, she was almost overwhelmed by need. But there were eyes on her, distracting her from the incredible feeling of being taken by her demon.
She turned her head to see the First staring at them in Its Angel face. It looked stunned. Moping over the death of the big bad hell beast she figured.
"Do you mind? This is a private moment." With that she turned her full attention back to Spike. Digging in her heels, she urged him to go even faster. So close, so close, and she'd given him her blood; he would be hard for hours. She'd have to get him home; the sun was coming soon. The thought of an entire day lay out before them, to do nothing but this for hours, made her nearly swoon with anticipation.
"Now! Love you! Mine! Spike!" she shouted incoherently. He threw his head back and roared again as she shuddered around him. They slid down the wall and she held him tight, feeling her shoulder knitting back together at last. As her breath came back she turned to see that the First was gone. Then she whipped her head back around, pushed Spike to his back, and sank her teeth in his neck.
She bounced up and down on him fast and hard. He held her head to his throat. "Don't let go," he gasped, pumping up without rhythm. She felt tremors running through him as she began to convulse again. He shouted her name and thrashed desperately underneath her before going completely limp. It occurred to her to wonder how different a kill would feel.
She was still going to have to stop Jonathan. Probably that meant killing Jonathan.
Buffy pushed the thought away and nuzzled Spike's collarbone. She kissed the purpling mark on his neck and carefully got to her feet. She reluctantly put on her pants and then reached for him. "The sun will be up soon. We need to go."
While they were busy the First's monster had dissolved. The seal was closed, drying trails of blood and ichors dotting the goat's horns. She felt oddly reassured. If that was the best the First could do, they were all going to be okay.
-----------
Next time: Faith receives some helpful information from an old friend, Wood confronts Spike, and someone finds Jonathan.
In our fourteenth installment the slayers take on the Beast.
Chapter 14: Two Slayers, No Waiting
She was too late.
By the time Faith stumbled on the scene, a huge guy in a Greek sweatshirt was dropping the body of his last victim on the seal. Then the glamour evaporated and she was staring at Jonathan. She'd been too late, and the ten boys were already dead. Their smell was funny; they'd been drugged. They all wore the same sweatshirts. He must have convinced them he was taking them on some sort of hazing ritual. And the gullible pledges would have seen the same movies she had and bought it hook, line, and sinker.
Clever. She was totally going to kill him.
Before she got the chance, something glowed under the pile of bodies. She heard metal screaming and then the boys were falling through the open seal into the ground. Or probably not the ground, but whatever the seal was a door too. She started to rush forward, determined to slice him in half.
A roar tore through the air and a hideous head emerged from the hole. Then a second. Then a third. Cold washed over her in waves, making her hair stand up. The creature clawed its way up and then spread its wings.
It was transparent, glowing orange. Just a phantom, she tried to reassure herself as it glided over to Jonathan and wrapped its wings around the small man. Jonathan moaned, a sick happy sound that made her hackles rise higher. The beast began to fade away and Jonathan began to take on the creature's orange glow.
Suddenly it hit her: this was the same thing that had happened to her.
No way, no way was she letting that piece of shit get more powerful. She pulled her old dagger from her boot and took aim. Jonathan screamed as the blade pierced his shoulder. The glow faded from his body and the creature shrieked.
Jonathan looked around frantically, but his eyes couldn't pick her out in the darkened basement. "I'll get you, you bitches!" he shouted. He ripped the knife from his shoulder and clamped his hand over the wound. Faith felt an immense sense of relief, but that faded fast as she and Jonathan simultaneously realized the same thing.
The creature had become solid.
The boy ran, limping with pain, leaving Faith alone to face the biggest demon she had ever seen. Unfortunately it had also seen her.
It turned one of its massive heads in her direction and took a swing with a taloned arm. She managed to parry with the scythe and jump out of the way of his second arm. When the third arm came at her, she swiped with the blade and took its claw clean off.
It wasn't happy about that. It gave an unholy cry and swung at her with its three good arms at once. She managed to block two, but the third lifted her off her feet and hurled her into a wall. Head spinning and one arm seriously hurting, she staggered to her feet and reeled on the thing again. One of the heads seemed to smile at her as it swung again.
She tried to block and missed. The talon scraped across her leg, taking leather and skin with it. Blood flowed down her leg and the pain made her woozy. Faith forced herself to stay upright and take another swipe. For what felt like days, she battled the beast, finally succeeding in taking of one head and seriously mangling the second. They took turns mauling each other until her blood and its ichors were indistinguishable on the slick dirt floor.
"Hey! Over here, big guy!"
Buffy spun by, taking a slash at the creature's abdomen. She saw one claw glance over her sister slayer's arm, but Buffy didn't seem to feel it. Spike hacked off another of its arms. Then her view was blocked by the girls, struggling with a pack of Bringers. She could hear Tara and Willow chanting. There was someone else there too, flitting in and out, but her incredible hearing still couldn't make out what that person was saying.
"Take that one back to the house and chain him up."
Faith couldn't tell who was speaking. Blood seeped out of her leg and the throbbing was interfering with her hearing. Soft arms came up around her waist.
"Have to fight," she protested.
"You're in no shape to fight, but you might be tomorrow if we get you out of here now."
Willow, she realized. She could see Tara still speaking, arms raised. The girls had finished off the Bringers and were running around trying to distract the monster while Buffy and Spike systematically chopped it to pieces.
"Keep her safe!" she heard Buffy scream.
Oddly enough, Faith felt safe for the first time in a long time.
-----
Buffy felt like they had been at it for hours. The girls were uninjured because she'd made them stay back. The were exhausted from fighting the crowd of Bringers, but then again if they hadn't been attacked by such a big group, they might never have realized that something big was happening.
Her own body was covered with cuts and there was a nasty gash on her shoulder. Spike was bloodied too, but they were slowly killing the First's beast. After the first few swings, the First had appeared in various forms to taunt and distract them, but now that they were clearly defeating Its pet there was no sign of It.
The beast teetered back and forth. She started to worry one of the girls might be crushed. "We can take it from here. You guys were amazing. Now, go home!" she managed to pant out.
From the corner of her eye she saw the twins dragging the unconscious Bringer behind them as they left. Spike, little scratches bleeding on his ridged brow, gave a vicious roar and lopped off the thing's last head. It flopped ungracefully over the seal. She marched over and drove her sword through its guts, just the make sure. Drops of her blood spattered what was left of its scaly body and the metal plate underneath, but her injuries were already healing.
She made her way over to Spike, who was leaning against the wall, breathing hard. "You seem more yourself," she commented. He did, and it was a relief because the freak outs were really scaring her.
"Good fight," he replied, but his eyes were already slipping away. "Stay back," he pleaded quietly.
"Huh?" She crossed her arms, pissed and confused. And also really turned on. Seeing him fight was always so... there was no way she was backing off.
"The blood," he explained. "Your blood."
"Oh." She kept moving toward him. Part of her was screaming that this was a really bad idea, but it had worked once before. She ran her fingers across her shoulder and pressed her wet hand against his mouth.
He opened his mouth to protest, and she thrust a finger in before he could say anything. His demon eyes went wide and he sucked the digit further into his mouth.
"Oh Buffy."
That faraway look in his eyes was gone. She gave him a sultry smile, feeling the heat inside her spread out through her limbs as he licked her hand clean.
She had intended to take him home first, away from the demon corpse and its assorted sawed-off bits, but she had run out of patience. She pushed his jacked off and then ripped her ruined shirt open at the shoulder.
With a growl he grabbed her and pressed her to the wall, mouth latched to her wound. She grabbed his hips with her knees and bucked against him as he sucked. His saliva would keep her bleeding she knew, but she also knew he would stop before he did any real damage.
"Love you," she gasped out as she fumbled with her jeans. Shaking and starting to feel a bit light-headed, she pulled open his fly.
Spike growled into her skin once more, then pulled back and clasped a hand over her shoulder to stop the blood. She pushed up to kiss his fangy mouth quick before he shook himself back to human form.
"Buffy, you--"
She grabbed him and guided him in, effectively shutting him up. His head fell back to her shoulder and she shouted when he thrust forward hard. "Yes!" She could feel his face shifting against her, helpless against the smell of her blood. "Oh god!"
The feeling of him, buried inside her and the effortless way he pinned her to the wall even after a long fight, she was almost overwhelmed by need. But there were eyes on her, distracting her from the incredible feeling of being taken by her demon.
She turned her head to see the First staring at them in Its Angel face. It looked stunned. Moping over the death of the big bad hell beast she figured.
"Do you mind? This is a private moment." With that she turned her full attention back to Spike. Digging in her heels, she urged him to go even faster. So close, so close, and she'd given him her blood; he would be hard for hours. She'd have to get him home; the sun was coming soon. The thought of an entire day lay out before them, to do nothing but this for hours, made her nearly swoon with anticipation.
"Now! Love you! Mine! Spike!" she shouted incoherently. He threw his head back and roared again as she shuddered around him. They slid down the wall and she held him tight, feeling her shoulder knitting back together at last. As her breath came back she turned to see that the First was gone. Then she whipped her head back around, pushed Spike to his back, and sank her teeth in his neck.
She bounced up and down on him fast and hard. He held her head to his throat. "Don't let go," he gasped, pumping up without rhythm. She felt tremors running through him as she began to convulse again. He shouted her name and thrashed desperately underneath her before going completely limp. It occurred to her to wonder how different a kill would feel.
She was still going to have to stop Jonathan. Probably that meant killing Jonathan.
Buffy pushed the thought away and nuzzled Spike's collarbone. She kissed the purpling mark on his neck and carefully got to her feet. She reluctantly put on her pants and then reached for him. "The sun will be up soon. We need to go."
While they were busy the First's monster had dissolved. The seal was closed, drying trails of blood and ichors dotting the goat's horns. She felt oddly reassured. If that was the best the First could do, they were all going to be okay.
-----------
Next time: Faith receives some helpful information from an old friend, Wood confronts Spike, and someone finds Jonathan.
Visits From Old Friends
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Kar for an amazingly quick turnaround despite the busy holiday season, and for the many great suggestions on polishing this up. Thanks to my readers and reviewers. Happy Holidays everyone. Note about the timeline: Most of the recent events are crammed together in the January time-frame. There hasn’t been the long build-up like there was in S7, and I’m not sure that’s clear. Please review, it’s the perfect gift!
In our fifteenth installment Faith receives some information from an old friend, Spike has a run-in with one of his victims, and someone finds Jonathan.
Chapter 15: Visits From Old Friends
Faith rolled up to sit on the couch and threw off the afghan. Her head was still pounding and she clutched it in her hands for a minute. It was dark outside and her wounds had closed up. Had she slept through the whole day? Had Buffy and Spike made it? The girls?
"Can I get you anything, Faith?"
She raised her head and squinted at Joyce. "How long was I out?"
Joyce stroked her hair. "Willow brought you in about an hour ago. You're looking much better."
An hour? She examined her thigh where the thing's claws had nearly gone through her. She could barely make out a little pink line through the torn leather. Being all god-filled had it's bennies.
"Nah. I'm good. Thanks, Joyce."
She felt Joyce squeeze her shoulder. Joyce was always warm, she radiated it like a stove. It was a nice feeling. The phone rang and Joyce went to answer it, taking the warmth with her.
And then there was an intense wave of cold.
"That was Buffy," Joyce reported. "She and Spike took care of the monster and now they're resting at home."
Faith nodded, only half hearing her. "Good. That's good. Stay here. There's something outside."
She stood; her leg wasn't even sore. Faith drew her axe out of the umbrella stand by the door and stepped out onto the porch. Something dark and tall stomped toward her.
"Angel?" He was holding something, so it had to be the real thing. Also the First didn't give her chills.
"Faith. Good to see you."
"Buffy's not home."
"Yeah." Angel wrinkled his nose. "I saw her earlier. She seemed... occupied."
It took her about two seconds to work that out. "With fighting a giant monster or with Spike's--"
Angel made a pained face. "About that, how long..."
Faith shrugged. "A while. They've got an apartment together now."
Angel kicked a porch column. "She threw me over for Captain Peroxide?" Time for the big puppy eyes. "She's not actually in love with him, is she?"
Had she actually had a crush on this guy at some point? She did not need a pet who was this high maintenance. Faith crossed her arms and gave him her best tough girl look. "Why are you here, Angel?"
He stopped sulking and handed her a folder.
"What's this?" She took the folder, but kept the scythe at the ready.
"Heard you guys are taking on the First. We got this from a... contact. Thought you might need it." He took something shiny out of his pocket. "There's also this."
She set the folder aside, took the necklace, and turned it over in her hands. It pulsed against her palm. "What is it?"
"It's not for you."
"The hell it's not. What is it?"
"I don't know everything. It's very powerful and probably very dangerous. It has a purifying power... cleansing power? Possibly scrubbing bubbles. The translation is... anyway, it bestows strength to the right person."
"You don't think I'm the right person?"
He smiled at her and she couldn't help the way it made her feel all gooey inside. "It has to be someone ensouled but stronger than human. A champion. As in me."
"Souled and stronger than human? Sounds like me," Faith pointed out.
"No. I don't know nearly enough about this to risk you wearing it. Besides, you've got that real cool axe-thing going for you." He waved at her weapon.
She smiled at his tone. "Angel, I... thanks for your concern, seriously, but I'm a lot stronger than you think." She took a step toward him. "A lot's happened to me since I left LA."
He took a step forward as well and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "Faith?" There was wonder in his voice. "What did you do?"
Suddenly he wasn't cold anymore. There was warmth to him, like her demon heart had suddenly recognized him, remembered that she'd tortured his best friend and beaten him nearly to a pulp and he had still seen right through her and wanted to help her, and maybe had loved her just a little.
She hugged him, carefully, still holding her axe. "Go back to LA, Angel," she whispered in his ear. "If we fail here, the First is going to roll your way and you and Wes have will have to stop it." She felt his arms tighten around her. "Go home."
"You're sure? I could help you here."
His voice rumbled through her and his arms were strong. He smelled good. Maybe he wouldn't be such a bad pet after all. She turned her head and caught his lips with hers. He tensed for a minute, but then returned the kiss.
When she couldn't breathe any more, she pulled back and stepped away from him. Angel was blinking in shock, looking like a stunned animal. "I should go home."
Faith nodded and licked her lips. "Thank you, Angel, seriously, for... lots of things." She grabbed the folder and ducked into the house before she did anything else extremely unwise.
--------
Anya shelved a few more books and handed the rest to Andrew. Buffy, looking tired but happy crashed in through the door. She gave them an unsettling smile. "I think it's time."
Anya nodded to Anil and Diane and then followed Andrew and Buffy downstairs where the other Scoobies were staring at the captured Bringer. Spike was there too, and he and Buffy practically floated together on a cloud of pheromones. Spike kept adjusting his jacket like he could really hide anything. It really wasn't fair, all these people having hot sweaty sex while she went home to an empty bed.
Not that she was looking to get anyone else in there right now. It wasn't that she wanted anyone new. She just wished the rest of them would stop screwing each other or at least be more discrete about it.
"You still haven't been able to reach Travers?" Buffy asked Giles.
"Still no word," Giles confirmed.
"Stupid withholding council," Buffy muttered.
Willow cleared her throat and started reciting, "Konus bizimle guzel adam, konus bizimle gozleri olmayan adam."
The Bringer didn't say anything. Which made sense to Anya, since he couldn't move his mouth.
"I am a drone in the mind that is evil," Andrew said in his comic book voice.
"Why is Andrew observing this exactly?" Giles asked, his expression extremely British and peevish.
"I say I am a part of the Great Darkness."
"Dammit, that should have worked," Willow groused.
"Guys," Anya pointed out. "He's speaking for it."
"I am only a fragment of the We. We work as one to serve The First."
"Okay, what do you, the We, do for The First?" Willow asked.
"We work to prepare for the inevitable battle. We attend to the needs of the infinite evil. We exterminate girls and destroy the legacy of the slayer. We build an arsenal beneath the dirt."
Buffy had her hardest face on. Anya felt a little robbed that the Bringer couldn't see it. "Tell us more about the arsenal."
"We build weapons to prepare for the coming war. At the farthest edge of town. We are everywhere. We are like the ocean's waves. We watch your efforts and are not scared. We will laugh at you as you die. Our army will overrun the earth and our god will be made flesh."
Giles stepped forward and drew a knife across the Bringer's neck.
Andrew screamed bloody murder. "What the bananas! You are so lucky that you did not just magickally decapitate me!"
"Yes, that would have been a tremendous loss," Giles remarked.
"Okay," Tara sighed. "So, where is the army being built? Maybe we could, I don't know, ambush them or something?"
Faith shook her head. "It could be anywhere in this town. The tunnels underground go everywhere. If the First is smart, he'll be keeping his primal vamps scattered around just to avoid us doing that. And I haven't felt any big cold spots."
Buffy frowned. "They're laughing at us. How many ubervamps would it take to defeat eight slayers?"
The morbid conference was broken up suddenly by a scream from upstairs. They all raced up to find a bloodied and battered Deirdre collapsed against the counter.
"Needs slayer blood," she panted. "Needs slayer blood to open the door. Jonathan said... he needed me to soak the seal and the second sun would bring the reckoning."
Anya stood back and let the watchers and the older slayers attend to Deirdre. Willow took something from the young slayer's hand and walked over. She held up a clump of dark hair, some scraps of skin still attached.
"I have to stop Jonathan," she intoned quietly.
Anya nodded and started gathering up supplies. "We don't know how strong he is now. You have to be careful."
Tara came up behind them. "Willow, what are you doing?"
"Taking care of a problem," Willow answered harshly.
Anya handed her the book she knew the witch needed. Willow placed her hand over the cover. Glowing yellow letters slithered over the skin on her arms and then across her face. Willow gasped and leaned forward on the table.
"Willow!" Giles had noticed them. "What do you think you are doing?"
The witch turned to the watcher with glowing black eyes. "I'm taking care of a problem. You keep the slayers safe."
Before anyone could object further, Willow was gone. "It's too late anyway," Buffy said tiredly. "Faith and I bled all over that seal last night. That attack is coming tomorrow."
"Yeah, about that," Faith replied. "I've got some intel on that. Angel brought it by last night. Thought you guys should take a look at it." She poked the hideous necklace she was wearing. "Also he gave me this purifying necklace thing."
Buffy blinked, then started turning a brilliant shade of red. "Angel was in town last night?"
Spike looked like he might swallow his tongue trying not to laugh and Faith grinned widely. "You knew!" she shouted at Spike. "You knew it was him there!"
The vampire just smirked and held out his hand for the folder. "Let's see what old Granddad has given us here."
-----
Spike craved a cigarette, among other things. It had quieted in The Magic Box, leaving just Anya and himself to watch the boy Andrew and keep an ear on the girls training in the basement. The Scoobies were taking a lunch break after having combed through Angel's intel.
Everything was coming apart, they were facing an army they couldn't begin to measure up against, and Spike was feeling whole and himself for the first time in yonks. Buffy's blood still coursed through his system, helping him stay awake through the sleepy sunlit hours, not to mention providing the energy he needed after their vigorous morning romps. His girl had to be exhausted though, which worried him.
He stretched and looked around the store. Deirdre sat staring into the middle distance; it was a mood Spike knew all too well.
"We're all going to die," she hissed under her breath.
"Oh no," Anya objected half-heartedly. "I'm sure they'll think of something. I don't know what but something."
"Aren't you scared?" Deirdre asked him.
Spike considered it. Only a fool wouldn't be frightened. A little pack of girls, some witches and watchers, one vampire against an army raised by the root of evil; the odds weren't in their favor. He had very little faith in Angel's trinket. "Already dead, love," he replied in the lightest tone he could manage.
"You're about to be a lot deader."
The principal. He should have known the man would come around eventually. Spike was no longer haunted by the shades of his prey, but not all of his victims were dead.
"Do you know who I am?"
Spike stood up and stared the man down. "Yeah. Know who you are, know what I did to your mum. That was a long time ago."
The principal sneered and aimed his crossbow. "It felt even longer to me."
Anya banged something heavy on the table. "Hey, you are not doing this here!"
Spike ignored her and prepared to strike, but then a wailing siren pierced the air and the principal spun around to see what was going on.
What looked like military vehicles rolled down the streets. Voices, eerily calm and oddly British voices sounded from bullhorns. "Evacuate in an orderly fashion. Hazardous material spill. This area is contaminated. Evacuate in an orderly fashion."
The principal gave him a long look and lowered his weapon. "This seem legitimate to you?"
"Not at all," Spike replied. He turned to Anya. "Lock up. Gather up the girls. We're going back to the house through the sewers."
"We're not done here," Nicole's child objected.
Spike glanced at the man's haunted face. He'd only just gotten rid of his own ghosts. He knew how the other man felt. "Another day," he replied. "If there is another day."
---------
Willow glided down the sidewalk. People were running and shouting. Horns blared from cars crammed onto the streets. She ignored it all as she reached out with other senses.
An older man with a cane gave her a dirty look as he passed and something clicked. She whispered, "aperio" and-- poof-- there was Jonathan. He took off, but she had his signature now and took off after him, following him despite his repeated attempts at distracting glamours.
They moved through the crowds into a vacant area near the docks. Perfect. She cornered him in a vacant warehouse.
"My master is more powerful than you can possibly imagine!"
Willow rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Incendere"
"Exstinguo!" he bellowed as flames leapt up his legs. "Morior!" he lobbied back at her, and so it continued.
Most of his spells were easily deflected, but others hit their mark. Willow knew she was bruising, and that she might have to wear scarves for a few days to cover the damage to her hair. She didn't let it bother her though. Her spells were doing much more damage due to the hunk of his hair and the herbs Anya had packed into the little bag around her neck.
"Bored now," she taunted him, with an exaggerated sigh. She directed another blast at him, and Jonathan toppled back to the floor. She leaned against the wall as he struggled to get to his feet. She'd catch her breath, get in a few more hits, and then finish him.
Jonathan rolled on his stomach and lumbered to his feet. He stumbled a few steps away from her, and muttered a sad, "Willow, please." It wasn't his voice, but it was familiar.
When he turned to look at her again, he was wearing Xander's face.
"Please, Willow, I love you."
She could feel the tears running down her face, but she struck just the same. She screamed as the blast hit him. "Please, Willow." Another blast, then another. She could hardly see through the tears. "I love you, please." She knew she was bawling; she didn't care. It's not real, her brain insisted, even as she reeled from the sight of herself tearing Xander apart. Not real, not real.
Finally he collapsed, but his beloved face still looked up at her. Desperate and bleeding, her best friend blinking up at her. "Please, don't."
Willow felt her breath coming in hiccups, her entire mind and body exhausted from the effort. She sank to her knees beside him. "Have mercy, Willow," he croaked, like a prayer.
"I can be merciful," she agreed. Her hands wrapped around his neck. "fracta," she whispered against her screaming senses.
The Xander-shaped thing gasped once as his spine snapped, and then it was just Jonathan. Dead, dead Jonathan staring up at her with big empty eyes.
She scooted back and lay against the wall, feeling every bit of strength seep out of her. Strands of white hair floated across the floor, and when she drew her hands across her scalp, more came away in her fingers.
So she'd killed the First's right-hand man. They still had an army to defeat and probably the whole thing was hopeless. She was done. Willow curled on the floor and closed her eyes.
"Hey Wills." She blinked up at him. He wasn't bloody anymore, except for his chest. "You have to get up."
"Xander?"
"I'm not supposed to be here, but they can bite me. You have to get up, Willow. They need you."
"I'm so tired, Xander."
"I know." He hugged her tight once, and she felt the warmth rush through her. "But you can do it." He stood and stepped back. "You're strong, you're incredible, and you're going to protect them, but you have to get up, Willow." He kept moving backward, away from her, taking all of the light with him. "Stand up, Willow."
"I'm up!" she shouted to the echoing warehouse. She pushed up off the floor and staggered for the door.
"There you are!" Buffy grabbed her up in a crushing hug. "I was so worried. Are you okay? What happened to your hair?"
Willow blinked a few times against the sunlight. The fresh January air filled her lungs. "Jonathan's been taken care of."
Buffy shook her head. "You didn't have to do that, Willow. I would have done it."
Willow smiled. "I know, but I didn't want you to have to be a killer too, Buffy." She shrugged. "Think of it as a really morbid birthday present."
Buffy have her a half-smile and carried her to the motorcycle. "Come on, we need to get home. Something crazy is going on in this town."
"When isn't it?"
She held on to Buffy as they wove in and out of the crawling traffic. Men and women in camouflage barked orders that Buffy ignored. An Army-style personnel truck lumbered past them going into town.
Half-asleep on Buffy's shoulder, she had the passing thought that the driver guy looked familiar, and then she was too tired to think anything anymore.
-----------
I didn’t forget about the motorcycles, you see. I know some of you guessed about the Angel thing; I just couldn’t resist, and I hope it isn’t too much. I’m working on sixteen now. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it all written before the new year, but I’m going to try. My fabulous beta will be on vacation. Unbeta-ed chapters may be posted on my lj (msclawdia.livejournal.com).
In our fifteenth installment Faith receives some information from an old friend, Spike has a run-in with one of his victims, and someone finds Jonathan.
Chapter 15: Visits From Old Friends
Faith rolled up to sit on the couch and threw off the afghan. Her head was still pounding and she clutched it in her hands for a minute. It was dark outside and her wounds had closed up. Had she slept through the whole day? Had Buffy and Spike made it? The girls?
"Can I get you anything, Faith?"
She raised her head and squinted at Joyce. "How long was I out?"
Joyce stroked her hair. "Willow brought you in about an hour ago. You're looking much better."
An hour? She examined her thigh where the thing's claws had nearly gone through her. She could barely make out a little pink line through the torn leather. Being all god-filled had it's bennies.
"Nah. I'm good. Thanks, Joyce."
She felt Joyce squeeze her shoulder. Joyce was always warm, she radiated it like a stove. It was a nice feeling. The phone rang and Joyce went to answer it, taking the warmth with her.
And then there was an intense wave of cold.
"That was Buffy," Joyce reported. "She and Spike took care of the monster and now they're resting at home."
Faith nodded, only half hearing her. "Good. That's good. Stay here. There's something outside."
She stood; her leg wasn't even sore. Faith drew her axe out of the umbrella stand by the door and stepped out onto the porch. Something dark and tall stomped toward her.
"Angel?" He was holding something, so it had to be the real thing. Also the First didn't give her chills.
"Faith. Good to see you."
"Buffy's not home."
"Yeah." Angel wrinkled his nose. "I saw her earlier. She seemed... occupied."
It took her about two seconds to work that out. "With fighting a giant monster or with Spike's--"
Angel made a pained face. "About that, how long..."
Faith shrugged. "A while. They've got an apartment together now."
Angel kicked a porch column. "She threw me over for Captain Peroxide?" Time for the big puppy eyes. "She's not actually in love with him, is she?"
Had she actually had a crush on this guy at some point? She did not need a pet who was this high maintenance. Faith crossed her arms and gave him her best tough girl look. "Why are you here, Angel?"
He stopped sulking and handed her a folder.
"What's this?" She took the folder, but kept the scythe at the ready.
"Heard you guys are taking on the First. We got this from a... contact. Thought you might need it." He took something shiny out of his pocket. "There's also this."
She set the folder aside, took the necklace, and turned it over in her hands. It pulsed against her palm. "What is it?"
"It's not for you."
"The hell it's not. What is it?"
"I don't know everything. It's very powerful and probably very dangerous. It has a purifying power... cleansing power? Possibly scrubbing bubbles. The translation is... anyway, it bestows strength to the right person."
"You don't think I'm the right person?"
He smiled at her and she couldn't help the way it made her feel all gooey inside. "It has to be someone ensouled but stronger than human. A champion. As in me."
"Souled and stronger than human? Sounds like me," Faith pointed out.
"No. I don't know nearly enough about this to risk you wearing it. Besides, you've got that real cool axe-thing going for you." He waved at her weapon.
She smiled at his tone. "Angel, I... thanks for your concern, seriously, but I'm a lot stronger than you think." She took a step toward him. "A lot's happened to me since I left LA."
He took a step forward as well and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "Faith?" There was wonder in his voice. "What did you do?"
Suddenly he wasn't cold anymore. There was warmth to him, like her demon heart had suddenly recognized him, remembered that she'd tortured his best friend and beaten him nearly to a pulp and he had still seen right through her and wanted to help her, and maybe had loved her just a little.
She hugged him, carefully, still holding her axe. "Go back to LA, Angel," she whispered in his ear. "If we fail here, the First is going to roll your way and you and Wes have will have to stop it." She felt his arms tighten around her. "Go home."
"You're sure? I could help you here."
His voice rumbled through her and his arms were strong. He smelled good. Maybe he wouldn't be such a bad pet after all. She turned her head and caught his lips with hers. He tensed for a minute, but then returned the kiss.
When she couldn't breathe any more, she pulled back and stepped away from him. Angel was blinking in shock, looking like a stunned animal. "I should go home."
Faith nodded and licked her lips. "Thank you, Angel, seriously, for... lots of things." She grabbed the folder and ducked into the house before she did anything else extremely unwise.
--------
Anya shelved a few more books and handed the rest to Andrew. Buffy, looking tired but happy crashed in through the door. She gave them an unsettling smile. "I think it's time."
Anya nodded to Anil and Diane and then followed Andrew and Buffy downstairs where the other Scoobies were staring at the captured Bringer. Spike was there too, and he and Buffy practically floated together on a cloud of pheromones. Spike kept adjusting his jacket like he could really hide anything. It really wasn't fair, all these people having hot sweaty sex while she went home to an empty bed.
Not that she was looking to get anyone else in there right now. It wasn't that she wanted anyone new. She just wished the rest of them would stop screwing each other or at least be more discrete about it.
"You still haven't been able to reach Travers?" Buffy asked Giles.
"Still no word," Giles confirmed.
"Stupid withholding council," Buffy muttered.
Willow cleared her throat and started reciting, "Konus bizimle guzel adam, konus bizimle gozleri olmayan adam."
The Bringer didn't say anything. Which made sense to Anya, since he couldn't move his mouth.
"I am a drone in the mind that is evil," Andrew said in his comic book voice.
"Why is Andrew observing this exactly?" Giles asked, his expression extremely British and peevish.
"I say I am a part of the Great Darkness."
"Dammit, that should have worked," Willow groused.
"Guys," Anya pointed out. "He's speaking for it."
"I am only a fragment of the We. We work as one to serve The First."
"Okay, what do you, the We, do for The First?" Willow asked.
"We work to prepare for the inevitable battle. We attend to the needs of the infinite evil. We exterminate girls and destroy the legacy of the slayer. We build an arsenal beneath the dirt."
Buffy had her hardest face on. Anya felt a little robbed that the Bringer couldn't see it. "Tell us more about the arsenal."
"We build weapons to prepare for the coming war. At the farthest edge of town. We are everywhere. We are like the ocean's waves. We watch your efforts and are not scared. We will laugh at you as you die. Our army will overrun the earth and our god will be made flesh."
Giles stepped forward and drew a knife across the Bringer's neck.
Andrew screamed bloody murder. "What the bananas! You are so lucky that you did not just magickally decapitate me!"
"Yes, that would have been a tremendous loss," Giles remarked.
"Okay," Tara sighed. "So, where is the army being built? Maybe we could, I don't know, ambush them or something?"
Faith shook her head. "It could be anywhere in this town. The tunnels underground go everywhere. If the First is smart, he'll be keeping his primal vamps scattered around just to avoid us doing that. And I haven't felt any big cold spots."
Buffy frowned. "They're laughing at us. How many ubervamps would it take to defeat eight slayers?"
The morbid conference was broken up suddenly by a scream from upstairs. They all raced up to find a bloodied and battered Deirdre collapsed against the counter.
"Needs slayer blood," she panted. "Needs slayer blood to open the door. Jonathan said... he needed me to soak the seal and the second sun would bring the reckoning."
Anya stood back and let the watchers and the older slayers attend to Deirdre. Willow took something from the young slayer's hand and walked over. She held up a clump of dark hair, some scraps of skin still attached.
"I have to stop Jonathan," she intoned quietly.
Anya nodded and started gathering up supplies. "We don't know how strong he is now. You have to be careful."
Tara came up behind them. "Willow, what are you doing?"
"Taking care of a problem," Willow answered harshly.
Anya handed her the book she knew the witch needed. Willow placed her hand over the cover. Glowing yellow letters slithered over the skin on her arms and then across her face. Willow gasped and leaned forward on the table.
"Willow!" Giles had noticed them. "What do you think you are doing?"
The witch turned to the watcher with glowing black eyes. "I'm taking care of a problem. You keep the slayers safe."
Before anyone could object further, Willow was gone. "It's too late anyway," Buffy said tiredly. "Faith and I bled all over that seal last night. That attack is coming tomorrow."
"Yeah, about that," Faith replied. "I've got some intel on that. Angel brought it by last night. Thought you guys should take a look at it." She poked the hideous necklace she was wearing. "Also he gave me this purifying necklace thing."
Buffy blinked, then started turning a brilliant shade of red. "Angel was in town last night?"
Spike looked like he might swallow his tongue trying not to laugh and Faith grinned widely. "You knew!" she shouted at Spike. "You knew it was him there!"
The vampire just smirked and held out his hand for the folder. "Let's see what old Granddad has given us here."
-----
Spike craved a cigarette, among other things. It had quieted in The Magic Box, leaving just Anya and himself to watch the boy Andrew and keep an ear on the girls training in the basement. The Scoobies were taking a lunch break after having combed through Angel's intel.
Everything was coming apart, they were facing an army they couldn't begin to measure up against, and Spike was feeling whole and himself for the first time in yonks. Buffy's blood still coursed through his system, helping him stay awake through the sleepy sunlit hours, not to mention providing the energy he needed after their vigorous morning romps. His girl had to be exhausted though, which worried him.
He stretched and looked around the store. Deirdre sat staring into the middle distance; it was a mood Spike knew all too well.
"We're all going to die," she hissed under her breath.
"Oh no," Anya objected half-heartedly. "I'm sure they'll think of something. I don't know what but something."
"Aren't you scared?" Deirdre asked him.
Spike considered it. Only a fool wouldn't be frightened. A little pack of girls, some witches and watchers, one vampire against an army raised by the root of evil; the odds weren't in their favor. He had very little faith in Angel's trinket. "Already dead, love," he replied in the lightest tone he could manage.
"You're about to be a lot deader."
The principal. He should have known the man would come around eventually. Spike was no longer haunted by the shades of his prey, but not all of his victims were dead.
"Do you know who I am?"
Spike stood up and stared the man down. "Yeah. Know who you are, know what I did to your mum. That was a long time ago."
The principal sneered and aimed his crossbow. "It felt even longer to me."
Anya banged something heavy on the table. "Hey, you are not doing this here!"
Spike ignored her and prepared to strike, but then a wailing siren pierced the air and the principal spun around to see what was going on.
What looked like military vehicles rolled down the streets. Voices, eerily calm and oddly British voices sounded from bullhorns. "Evacuate in an orderly fashion. Hazardous material spill. This area is contaminated. Evacuate in an orderly fashion."
The principal gave him a long look and lowered his weapon. "This seem legitimate to you?"
"Not at all," Spike replied. He turned to Anya. "Lock up. Gather up the girls. We're going back to the house through the sewers."
"We're not done here," Nicole's child objected.
Spike glanced at the man's haunted face. He'd only just gotten rid of his own ghosts. He knew how the other man felt. "Another day," he replied. "If there is another day."
---------
Willow glided down the sidewalk. People were running and shouting. Horns blared from cars crammed onto the streets. She ignored it all as she reached out with other senses.
An older man with a cane gave her a dirty look as he passed and something clicked. She whispered, "aperio" and-- poof-- there was Jonathan. He took off, but she had his signature now and took off after him, following him despite his repeated attempts at distracting glamours.
They moved through the crowds into a vacant area near the docks. Perfect. She cornered him in a vacant warehouse.
"My master is more powerful than you can possibly imagine!"
Willow rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Incendere"
"Exstinguo!" he bellowed as flames leapt up his legs. "Morior!" he lobbied back at her, and so it continued.
Most of his spells were easily deflected, but others hit their mark. Willow knew she was bruising, and that she might have to wear scarves for a few days to cover the damage to her hair. She didn't let it bother her though. Her spells were doing much more damage due to the hunk of his hair and the herbs Anya had packed into the little bag around her neck.
"Bored now," she taunted him, with an exaggerated sigh. She directed another blast at him, and Jonathan toppled back to the floor. She leaned against the wall as he struggled to get to his feet. She'd catch her breath, get in a few more hits, and then finish him.
Jonathan rolled on his stomach and lumbered to his feet. He stumbled a few steps away from her, and muttered a sad, "Willow, please." It wasn't his voice, but it was familiar.
When he turned to look at her again, he was wearing Xander's face.
"Please, Willow, I love you."
She could feel the tears running down her face, but she struck just the same. She screamed as the blast hit him. "Please, Willow." Another blast, then another. She could hardly see through the tears. "I love you, please." She knew she was bawling; she didn't care. It's not real, her brain insisted, even as she reeled from the sight of herself tearing Xander apart. Not real, not real.
Finally he collapsed, but his beloved face still looked up at her. Desperate and bleeding, her best friend blinking up at her. "Please, don't."
Willow felt her breath coming in hiccups, her entire mind and body exhausted from the effort. She sank to her knees beside him. "Have mercy, Willow," he croaked, like a prayer.
"I can be merciful," she agreed. Her hands wrapped around his neck. "fracta," she whispered against her screaming senses.
The Xander-shaped thing gasped once as his spine snapped, and then it was just Jonathan. Dead, dead Jonathan staring up at her with big empty eyes.
She scooted back and lay against the wall, feeling every bit of strength seep out of her. Strands of white hair floated across the floor, and when she drew her hands across her scalp, more came away in her fingers.
So she'd killed the First's right-hand man. They still had an army to defeat and probably the whole thing was hopeless. She was done. Willow curled on the floor and closed her eyes.
"Hey Wills." She blinked up at him. He wasn't bloody anymore, except for his chest. "You have to get up."
"Xander?"
"I'm not supposed to be here, but they can bite me. You have to get up, Willow. They need you."
"I'm so tired, Xander."
"I know." He hugged her tight once, and she felt the warmth rush through her. "But you can do it." He stood and stepped back. "You're strong, you're incredible, and you're going to protect them, but you have to get up, Willow." He kept moving backward, away from her, taking all of the light with him. "Stand up, Willow."
"I'm up!" she shouted to the echoing warehouse. She pushed up off the floor and staggered for the door.
"There you are!" Buffy grabbed her up in a crushing hug. "I was so worried. Are you okay? What happened to your hair?"
Willow blinked a few times against the sunlight. The fresh January air filled her lungs. "Jonathan's been taken care of."
Buffy shook her head. "You didn't have to do that, Willow. I would have done it."
Willow smiled. "I know, but I didn't want you to have to be a killer too, Buffy." She shrugged. "Think of it as a really morbid birthday present."
Buffy have her a half-smile and carried her to the motorcycle. "Come on, we need to get home. Something crazy is going on in this town."
"When isn't it?"
She held on to Buffy as they wove in and out of the crawling traffic. Men and women in camouflage barked orders that Buffy ignored. An Army-style personnel truck lumbered past them going into town.
Half-asleep on Buffy's shoulder, she had the passing thought that the driver guy looked familiar, and then she was too tired to think anything anymore.
-----------
I didn’t forget about the motorcycles, you see. I know some of you guessed about the Angel thing; I just couldn’t resist, and I hope it isn’t too much. I’m working on sixteen now. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it all written before the new year, but I’m going to try. My fabulous beta will be on vacation. Unbeta-ed chapters may be posted on my lj (msclawdia.livejournal.com).
The Eve of Battle
Author’s Note: Hope everyone who celebrates had a great holiday. Major thanks to my fabulous beta Kar for returning this on her first day back from vacation. Thanks of course to my readers and reviewers; you make this all worth while. I hope to have the next chapter up this weekend, and that will bring Getting All Chosen to an end.
In our sixteenth installment the mystery of the evacuation is resolved, Joyce gives a pep talk, and Buffy prepares for the big day.
Chapter 16: The Eve of Battle
Faith stopped for a moment to catch her breath before leaping over to the next rooftop. On the ground people were moving and yelling. Cars flowed slowly down the street. She could feel others moving too. On the roads and under the roads, demons were heading out of town as well.
A covered army truck sped by in the other direction and she felt an unexpected wave of heat surge up her spine. She moved faster, trying to keep pace with the truck and quickly realized they were headed the same place she was.
Buffy must have found Willow, because she was there on the front porch with Giles, facing down a sea of girls in uniforms. A young woman in fatigues with a snotty voice was sneering at her sister slayer. "Why are you refusing to comply with the evacuation order?"
Buffy just rolled her eyes. "I want to speak to whoever is in charge of you people."
Faith strolled up through the ranks, feeling their eyes rake over her. It was like walking through a furnace. She took her place at Buffy's side. She heard the door opening, felt the blast of warmth as their six girls filed in behind them.
She turned to Buffy to tell her what was going on, but the stupid kid kept yelling. "If you do not evacuate--"
"That will do, Kennedy." The driver of the covered truck strolled up the sidewalk.
"Mr. Travers."
"Miss Summers."
There was a thick silence. Faith broke it. "They're slayers, all of them."
"Indeed, Miss Lehane. They are all slayers. All one-hundred thirty six of them."
"You brought me an army?" Buffy asked incredulously.
"As I understand it," the Travers guy replied in the most irritating tone possible, "you are about to engage one."
Giles cleared his throat. "Well, you certainly chose the most dramatic way to make your delivery, Quentin."
The older man lifted impressive eyebrows. "Our friends in the American military agreed that removing civilians was appropriate under the circumstances."
Faith and Buffy let Giles keep arguing with the old Council guy about the wisdom of this plan and how much training the girls had and who was really in charge. Faith smiled at the crowd of nervous girls on the lawn as she and her sister stepped forward, out of the shade cast by the porch.
"What do I say to them?" Buffy wondered in a whisper.
"Hell if I know, B. You're the one who makes the speeches around here." She punched her on the shoulder. "They're scared. Make them less scared."
"Hi!" Buffy's perky voice rang out. "We're really glad to have you. I'm Buffy and this is Faith. If the Council didn't tell you, she's got the essence of the First Slayer in her, so she's the biggest badass you'll ever meet."
Faith wasn't used to praise like that, especially not from Buffy. "Welcome to the Hellmouth." There were some nervous giggles. Faith decided to take her own advice. "I know you guys have some idea of what we're facing tomorrow and how dangerous it is, and you're probably scared. And you probably should be scared, because this is not joke. That said, just so you know, we're going to win."
------
"Mom, I really think you should..."
Joyce looked up from her packing and finished her daughter's sentence, "Leave town?"
Buffy nodded solemnly and Joyce felt an intense urge to beg her to come along. There were a hundred girls bedding down in the Sunnydale Inn for the night and Faith had become some sort of super-slayer. Buffy could let someone else fight this time. She had died twice already. Wasn't that enough?
Instead she stuffed another photo album into her bag and avoided Buffy's eyes. "I already talked to your sister. She's in her room, either sulking or packing. Hopefully at least some of the latter."
She looked up to see her daughter nod. "Could I get you to take Anya too? And possibly Andrew? You can leave him at the nearest truck stop if he makes you insane, but I think keeping one of the First's former lackeys around for the big fight is not of the wise."
Joyce closed her bag and sighed. "So this happens tomorrow?"
Buffy shrugged. "That seems to be to majority opinion. We need a plan. Right now our plan seems to consist of 'destroy evil'. I think we need something more... specific."
"Destroy evil? That's a tall order, sweetie."
"Sorta my job description though."
"Buffy, no matter what your friends expect of you, evil is a part of us. All of us. It's natural. And no one can stop that. No one can stop nature, not even you."
Buffy frowned. "Major thanks for the big pep talk on the eve of battle, Mom."
Joyce rubbed her temples. She didn’t know why she was getting philosophical, and her daughter was right. That wasn’t what she needed to hear right then. "I'm sorry. I just... I wish you didn't have to do this."
Her daughter hugged her, just a touch too tightly, like always. "Me too. I love you, Mom."
Joyce blinked back a few tears. "You call me as soon as you've averted the apocalypse, okay?"
Buffy pulled back to smile at her with wet eyes. "Promise."
-----------
It was cold out and she should sleep before the big battle. Still Buffy felt herself drawn to the porch and to the night beyond. The emptiness of the town felt like a physical presence of its own. They were going to make it safe again. Somehow.
But girls were going to die. Even with a pack of magicians to help, it was still basically a handful of girls who hadn't even been slayers for a year against an army of primordial vampires. Girls were going to die.
Maybe Faith too, since she was insisting on wearing that stupid amulet they didn’t know nearly enough about. Stupid Angel and his stupid secret contacts and their stupid translations of stupid prophecies. She squeezed her eyes shut tight against the anger rising in her gut. She wanted to try to take the necklace from Faith, but the other slayer’s argument made sense; Faith was the one with a demon-slash-god heart which made her the closest fit for what little they knew about who was supposed to wield it. If Buffy pulled rank, she might be dooming them all.
"Can't sleep, love?"
She scooted over to make room for him on the steps.
"Big day tomorrow, slayer. You should get some rest."
"Too many things to think about."
Spike gave her a look that told her he knew pretty well what she was going through. He pressed his shoulder against hers and just sat in the quiet with her for a while.
"I checked the website. Can you believe my econ professor posted homework during the evacuation?"
Spike made an amused noise. "Is that what's been troubling you this evening, pet? School work?"
She kicked at the stair railing. "No," she pouted. "But it's easier to think about than all the other stuff I'm trying not to think about right now." Like the carnage and the possibility of failure and the very real possibility that, despite her refusal to accept it as a possibility, she might be about to face her third death.
"Good tussle is what you need. Something to wear you out."
She knew it was a put on, the leer and the tongue and the fingers in the belt loops drawing a giant flashing arrow to his groin. He was just as nervous as she was. But the man had a point.
"All the demons cleared out of town," she teased with a brave smile.
"I'm still here," he teased back, all eyebrows.
Buffy reached up to stroke his cheek. It still surprised her sometimes that she'd actually found someone who was going to stick around. "I love you."
"I know," he said, bringing her hand around so he could kiss it. "But thanks for saying it anyway."
------------
Feedback, please! I intend to have the next and final chapter posted by the weekend, and then it’s on to other projects. Thank you all so much for your comments and encouragement.
In our sixteenth installment the mystery of the evacuation is resolved, Joyce gives a pep talk, and Buffy prepares for the big day.
Chapter 16: The Eve of Battle
Faith stopped for a moment to catch her breath before leaping over to the next rooftop. On the ground people were moving and yelling. Cars flowed slowly down the street. She could feel others moving too. On the roads and under the roads, demons were heading out of town as well.
A covered army truck sped by in the other direction and she felt an unexpected wave of heat surge up her spine. She moved faster, trying to keep pace with the truck and quickly realized they were headed the same place she was.
Buffy must have found Willow, because she was there on the front porch with Giles, facing down a sea of girls in uniforms. A young woman in fatigues with a snotty voice was sneering at her sister slayer. "Why are you refusing to comply with the evacuation order?"
Buffy just rolled her eyes. "I want to speak to whoever is in charge of you people."
Faith strolled up through the ranks, feeling their eyes rake over her. It was like walking through a furnace. She took her place at Buffy's side. She heard the door opening, felt the blast of warmth as their six girls filed in behind them.
She turned to Buffy to tell her what was going on, but the stupid kid kept yelling. "If you do not evacuate--"
"That will do, Kennedy." The driver of the covered truck strolled up the sidewalk.
"Mr. Travers."
"Miss Summers."
There was a thick silence. Faith broke it. "They're slayers, all of them."
"Indeed, Miss Lehane. They are all slayers. All one-hundred thirty six of them."
"You brought me an army?" Buffy asked incredulously.
"As I understand it," the Travers guy replied in the most irritating tone possible, "you are about to engage one."
Giles cleared his throat. "Well, you certainly chose the most dramatic way to make your delivery, Quentin."
The older man lifted impressive eyebrows. "Our friends in the American military agreed that removing civilians was appropriate under the circumstances."
Faith and Buffy let Giles keep arguing with the old Council guy about the wisdom of this plan and how much training the girls had and who was really in charge. Faith smiled at the crowd of nervous girls on the lawn as she and her sister stepped forward, out of the shade cast by the porch.
"What do I say to them?" Buffy wondered in a whisper.
"Hell if I know, B. You're the one who makes the speeches around here." She punched her on the shoulder. "They're scared. Make them less scared."
"Hi!" Buffy's perky voice rang out. "We're really glad to have you. I'm Buffy and this is Faith. If the Council didn't tell you, she's got the essence of the First Slayer in her, so she's the biggest badass you'll ever meet."
Faith wasn't used to praise like that, especially not from Buffy. "Welcome to the Hellmouth." There were some nervous giggles. Faith decided to take her own advice. "I know you guys have some idea of what we're facing tomorrow and how dangerous it is, and you're probably scared. And you probably should be scared, because this is not joke. That said, just so you know, we're going to win."
------
"Mom, I really think you should..."
Joyce looked up from her packing and finished her daughter's sentence, "Leave town?"
Buffy nodded solemnly and Joyce felt an intense urge to beg her to come along. There were a hundred girls bedding down in the Sunnydale Inn for the night and Faith had become some sort of super-slayer. Buffy could let someone else fight this time. She had died twice already. Wasn't that enough?
Instead she stuffed another photo album into her bag and avoided Buffy's eyes. "I already talked to your sister. She's in her room, either sulking or packing. Hopefully at least some of the latter."
She looked up to see her daughter nod. "Could I get you to take Anya too? And possibly Andrew? You can leave him at the nearest truck stop if he makes you insane, but I think keeping one of the First's former lackeys around for the big fight is not of the wise."
Joyce closed her bag and sighed. "So this happens tomorrow?"
Buffy shrugged. "That seems to be to majority opinion. We need a plan. Right now our plan seems to consist of 'destroy evil'. I think we need something more... specific."
"Destroy evil? That's a tall order, sweetie."
"Sorta my job description though."
"Buffy, no matter what your friends expect of you, evil is a part of us. All of us. It's natural. And no one can stop that. No one can stop nature, not even you."
Buffy frowned. "Major thanks for the big pep talk on the eve of battle, Mom."
Joyce rubbed her temples. She didn’t know why she was getting philosophical, and her daughter was right. That wasn’t what she needed to hear right then. "I'm sorry. I just... I wish you didn't have to do this."
Her daughter hugged her, just a touch too tightly, like always. "Me too. I love you, Mom."
Joyce blinked back a few tears. "You call me as soon as you've averted the apocalypse, okay?"
Buffy pulled back to smile at her with wet eyes. "Promise."
-----------
It was cold out and she should sleep before the big battle. Still Buffy felt herself drawn to the porch and to the night beyond. The emptiness of the town felt like a physical presence of its own. They were going to make it safe again. Somehow.
But girls were going to die. Even with a pack of magicians to help, it was still basically a handful of girls who hadn't even been slayers for a year against an army of primordial vampires. Girls were going to die.
Maybe Faith too, since she was insisting on wearing that stupid amulet they didn’t know nearly enough about. Stupid Angel and his stupid secret contacts and their stupid translations of stupid prophecies. She squeezed her eyes shut tight against the anger rising in her gut. She wanted to try to take the necklace from Faith, but the other slayer’s argument made sense; Faith was the one with a demon-slash-god heart which made her the closest fit for what little they knew about who was supposed to wield it. If Buffy pulled rank, she might be dooming them all.
"Can't sleep, love?"
She scooted over to make room for him on the steps.
"Big day tomorrow, slayer. You should get some rest."
"Too many things to think about."
Spike gave her a look that told her he knew pretty well what she was going through. He pressed his shoulder against hers and just sat in the quiet with her for a while.
"I checked the website. Can you believe my econ professor posted homework during the evacuation?"
Spike made an amused noise. "Is that what's been troubling you this evening, pet? School work?"
She kicked at the stair railing. "No," she pouted. "But it's easier to think about than all the other stuff I'm trying not to think about right now." Like the carnage and the possibility of failure and the very real possibility that, despite her refusal to accept it as a possibility, she might be about to face her third death.
"Good tussle is what you need. Something to wear you out."
She knew it was a put on, the leer and the tongue and the fingers in the belt loops drawing a giant flashing arrow to his groin. He was just as nervous as she was. But the man had a point.
"All the demons cleared out of town," she teased with a brave smile.
"I'm still here," he teased back, all eyebrows.
Buffy reached up to stroke his cheek. It still surprised her sometimes that she'd actually found someone who was going to stick around. "I love you."
"I know," he said, bringing her hand around so he could kiss it. "But thanks for saying it anyway."
------------
Feedback, please! I intend to have the next and final chapter posted by the weekend, and then it’s on to other projects. Thank you all so much for your comments and encouragement.
The Chosen
Author’s Note: Thank you to my wonderful beta Kar and my readers and reviewers for suggesting a sequel and sticking with me through it. I’ve enjoyed writing this, but I’m also looking forward to a little break from the big WIPs. Something smaller for my next foray, I think.
In our final installment there is a big damn fight.
Chapter 17: The Chosen
Faith signaled to Octavia, Deirdre, Solana, Connie, Amanda, and the twins and gestured them away from the rest of the slayers. She could hear Travers and his people shouting orders at the other girls, who huddled together with palpable fear in the orange sunrise. Buffy stood at the back of the crowd, frowning, but Faith ignored him and opened the bundle in her arms.
Faith drew out the short swords and passed them out. Yeah, maybe they should have taken it up with the Council, but these were her girls. They were getting the special weapons.
"You listen to me. B over there once told me the first rule of slaying is don't die." She smiled at Buffy, who was probably too far away to hear her. "Can't follow her own advice worth a damn, but that doesn't make it any less true. Don't die."
Amanda gave a nervous laugh. "We'll try."
Faith couldn't feel an individual signature in the wash of cold, but Buffy went running before Faith even saw Spike stick his head carefully out of a well-shaded window. Minutes later she came rushing back.
"The scouts are back," Buffy reported. "The seal is open. Big staircase down into hell."
"So we wait for them to come up?" Connie asked.
Buffy frowned. "Travers wants to go down the stairs."
"And get picked off one by one?" Octavia protested. "Aren't Watchers supposed to be smart?"
Faith exchanged a look with her sister slayer. "No," Buffy explained. "The scouts say there's a ledge and the vamps are in a pit below it."
"So we line up on the ledge? At least we'd have the high ground, I guess," Amanda muttered.
The larger group was beginning to move, and they reluctantly followed. Faith felt Buffy's hand on her arm. "Faith, keep in mind, it's not a great day to be a rule-breaker."
Faith grinned at Buffy and slung an arm over her shoulder. Together they strolled down the stairs to hell.
---------
It was vast. Vast and more frightening than anything she'd ever seen before. Willow took a deep breath and chanted a stream of Latin. A dozen ubervamps burst into flames and charred to ash before she could blink.
There were thousands more surging up the side of the pit.
Willow lost track of how long they had been at it. The mages were tiring and the girls were fading too. She felt tears spring to her eyes as a young Asian girl was grabbed. Willow shouted a spell and the monsters dropped the girl, shrieking and writhing before they dusted. But she was too late, as the girl's open throat made clear.
Turning to the right, she saw Buffy and the Sunnydale girls plowing their way through another wave, but most of the slayers weren't doing as well. Faith swung the scythe and yelled, "Why isn't this stupid necklace doing anything?"
"A sky god trapped underground," Tara muttered, leaning against the wall and gasping.
"Get out of here!" Willow shouted at her. "There's plenty of us," she lied. "No point in getting yourself killed."
Another exhausted mage nearby nodded, and Tara leaned against his shoulder as they struggled out. Willow braced herself and took another shot. She'd keep chanting and blasting, but the ending to the story was obvious. They were losing. She had to fix it.
Something slashed against her back before she could finish the thought.
-------
Spike growled and sliced his sword through another beastie before it could take a bite out of a terrified chit hardly big enough to hold her own weapon. Another monster swooped in behind her and Spike lunged again. The girl sucked in a breath and did the same.
He was aware of blood seeping slowly down his chest from all the little nicks and cuts he'd taken. Individually they weren't much, but enough of them and he'd soon bleed out.
"All this sweet girl blood, must be making you hungry."
"Bugger off," he grunted, ignoring the shifting shade that had been popping up all morning.
"My dear boy, I'm only suggesting you enjoy a last meal. This will all be over soon."
"Willow!"
He whipped his head around, almost grateful for the distraction, to find Buffy brutally swinging her way through a swarm of his nasty cousins hovering over a splash of vibrant red on the ground. Spike lunged forward and twisted the head off one before it could sink its fangs into the powerful witch.
Her pulse was weak and her eyes fluttered. Little sparks popped off the ends of her fingers. Buffy ran her eyes over him, taking in the gashes and gore. "Get her out of here," she hissed.
"Not leaving you," he insisted with a firm shake of his head.
"I do not have time to argue with you!" Buffy hissed. "I love you and I need you to do this for me."
She turned to meet the next wave of attackers before he could protest. "The sky," Willow panted below him. With no small amount of anger at himself for being the good little soldier, he scooped the little witch up over one shoulder and started fighting his way to the steps.
In the dank of the school basement, he carefully set her down. Giles nodded at him, barely looking up from the girl he was bandaging. The girl nodded grimly, flexed her hand once, and headed back down the stairs.
"It's not going well down there," Spike said quietly.
"No," Giles agreed succinctly. Together they leaned over Willow.
"The sky," she slurred again.
Her hands shot up to grab both their shoulders and Spike thrashed against a wave of dizziness. There was a load crack and then he was scrambling weakly for a dim corner as Willow threw her head back and ragged holes forms in the floors and ceilings separating the basement from the sky. Giles seemed stunned as well, and then there was a roar from beneath them.
Pure light poured out of the Hellmouth.
"Did it work?" Willow panted. She sat up, eyes clouded white. "Did it work?"
Giles managed to speak before he could. "Don't you see?"
"Blind now. Did it work?"
"It did something," Spike informed her, still feeling wobbly.
Giles gave him a concerned look and tossed him a blanket from the stack of medical supplies. "Go."
Spike gathered Willow up in his arms and threw the blanket over them. Stumbling and still dizzy, he struggled with each step. "Red, what the bleeding hell did you do?"
Willow laughed drunkenly. "She's a sky god."
Spike shook his head and gave up trying to understand her. He hustled her into one of the covered army trucks on the school lawn. He lost all feeling in his legs as he heaved her into the back. Arms reached down and pulled his scorching body into the truck. Two dozen bleeding girls huddled inside, making his stomach growl.
The ground began to shake and he looked around at the terrified teens. The truck's motor was running, and he could smell the fear sweat of the driver. His woman was still in there, and their fair girls. And him completely useless.
------
Buffy stabbed another vamp and leaned on the sheath for a second to catch her breath. About half the girls were left fighting. The others had fled or been carried up to medical treatment. Or worse.
Somewhere under the pile of demons she'd just felled was Deirdre's butchered corpse. Shaking off the urge to cry, she rounded to take on the next group and instead saw her own face.
"Bravo. I mean, really. You pulled a nice trick. You came pretty close to smacking me down. What more do you want?"
Buffy squared her shoulders. "This isn't over." She knew she wasn't convincing anyone, especially not herself. "This isn't over," she repeated and spun around to take on the pair sneaking up behind her. Suddenly she was blinding by a burst of bright light.
"Holy shit!"
Buffy blinked as brilliant sunlight seemed to flood her field of view. She could make out the forms of Turok Han running before they exploded into dust. Girls were running too, back toward the stairs.
“I think this calls for an ‘I told you so’!” she shouted, but of course her phantom doppelganger was gone.
Faith glowed like a sun. The amulet on her chest glittered blood red in the white light. Her face blistered and the skin peeled.
"You have to go!" Faith shouted above the roar of the fleeing demons. The ground beneath her feet shifted and the ledge began to buckle and crack. Blood began to soak Faiths' clothes. "Get these girls out of here."
"Faith, what are you doing?" Buffy stumbled across the moving ground to grasp one burning hand.
"Cleaning this place up, looks like. Guess that's what this bad boy does. Pretty cool," she croaked.
Buffy shook her head. "I can't leave you here alone."
"Yes you can." Faith's blazing hand briefly grabbed her shoulder. "It was meant for me, and this is my job now. I was chosen for this."
"Buffy?" Yvette and Yvonne hugged each other and started up at her. "What do we do now?"
Faith shuddered and opened her arms, pushing Buffy away. "Go, Buffy. Now!"
"Get to the trucks!" Buffy screamed, trying to find all the girls through the glare. "Get the wounded and get above ground!"
Girls raced past her for the stairs, singly and in huddles with the wounded slung over their shoulders. She watched as another wave of vamps flashed to ashes against Faith's widening glow. With one last backward glance, she followed the last girl up the stairs.
The ground shook and shattered beneath her feet. Trucks were pulling away while girls poured into the backs of others. She boosted the twins into the back of the last one and reluctantly boarded it herself as fissures shot through the parking lot.
As they drove away, there was an intense burst of light, and then the school sank into the ground. The earth stopped shaking as the light slowly faded.
Buffy jumped out of the truck and ran back toward the school. There was nothing but a pile of rubble and no way in.
"Buffy? What happened?" She felt Giles's warm hand on her shoulder.
"Is it over?"
"Did we win?"
"What did this?"
She stood and let the tears come. "Yes," she answered them. "Yes." Buffy wiped at her face. "Faith did it, she saved us all."
"Looks like the Hellmouth is officially closed for business," Octavia proposed reverently.
"There is another one in Cleveland," Giles pointed out quietly.
Buffy felt a smile coming on as the truck full of girls moaned. "Giles is right," she told them. "We celebrate, we mourn. Then we go back to work."
As she made her way to the truck where she felt Spike's presence calling her, she silently added to herself, "no matter how much it hurts." She huddled in the truck between her battered lover and her unconscious friend and cried for her lost sister. It was so strange; it seemed like she should feel it in her soul, like when Kendra died. The tires rattled something on the ground, and she sat up straight.
Manhole.
“Stop the truck!” she shouted. She leapt out while it was still moving.
“Buffy?” Octavia tried to climb out after her.
“No, you stay here. I have an idea.”
She pushed the manhole cover aside and dropped down.
First flaw in the plan? It was dark. A few bulbs lit the way, but the new mayor was apparently not as conscientious of keeping the sewers in spiffy condition. Second and stickier was that she didn’t know which way to go. She closed her eyes and tried to do something Giles-y to focus and pick a direction.
As she walked it became obvious she was going the right way. Chunks of concrete and broken metal littered the path as she closed in on the school. She saw a shadow move in the dark, and then in the sulfuric light there was the First Slayer. Matted hair, brown and red, caked in mud.
Except that it was Faith.
“Hey, B.”
“Faith!” She threw her arms around the other slayer, despite the eight layers of filth. The gashes on her face were already healing up. Slayer healing, and then some. It made sense to Buffy.
“Whoa. Little sore here.” But Faith was hugging her back. “Come on. I want to get above ground.”
They made their way back toward the surface together.
“How did you know, anyway?” Faith asked. “With the school falling in and everything…”
Buffy shrugged. “I just knew.”
Faith licked her charred lips. “Yeah. You know, when you jumped off that tower, I felt it.” She sighed. “Lost a lot of girls today, didn’t we?”
Buffy nodded, not able to process that quite yet. “Will there be others, you know, that get called?”
Faith scratched at her scalp. “Man, I need a fire hose over here. Who knows? But yeah, I hope there’s a bunch of new girls getting all chosen as we speak.”
She could hear girls cheering as they climbed out into the sunshine. The world was safe again, at least for a day or two. “Hope is good,” Buffy agreed.
------------
I would love feedback on this chapter, this story, and this series as a whole. Also, any requests for fill-ins or follow-ups would be fantastic too. Thank you all, again!
In our final installment there is a big damn fight.
Chapter 17: The Chosen
Faith signaled to Octavia, Deirdre, Solana, Connie, Amanda, and the twins and gestured them away from the rest of the slayers. She could hear Travers and his people shouting orders at the other girls, who huddled together with palpable fear in the orange sunrise. Buffy stood at the back of the crowd, frowning, but Faith ignored him and opened the bundle in her arms.
Faith drew out the short swords and passed them out. Yeah, maybe they should have taken it up with the Council, but these were her girls. They were getting the special weapons.
"You listen to me. B over there once told me the first rule of slaying is don't die." She smiled at Buffy, who was probably too far away to hear her. "Can't follow her own advice worth a damn, but that doesn't make it any less true. Don't die."
Amanda gave a nervous laugh. "We'll try."
Faith couldn't feel an individual signature in the wash of cold, but Buffy went running before Faith even saw Spike stick his head carefully out of a well-shaded window. Minutes later she came rushing back.
"The scouts are back," Buffy reported. "The seal is open. Big staircase down into hell."
"So we wait for them to come up?" Connie asked.
Buffy frowned. "Travers wants to go down the stairs."
"And get picked off one by one?" Octavia protested. "Aren't Watchers supposed to be smart?"
Faith exchanged a look with her sister slayer. "No," Buffy explained. "The scouts say there's a ledge and the vamps are in a pit below it."
"So we line up on the ledge? At least we'd have the high ground, I guess," Amanda muttered.
The larger group was beginning to move, and they reluctantly followed. Faith felt Buffy's hand on her arm. "Faith, keep in mind, it's not a great day to be a rule-breaker."
Faith grinned at Buffy and slung an arm over her shoulder. Together they strolled down the stairs to hell.
---------
It was vast. Vast and more frightening than anything she'd ever seen before. Willow took a deep breath and chanted a stream of Latin. A dozen ubervamps burst into flames and charred to ash before she could blink.
There were thousands more surging up the side of the pit.
Willow lost track of how long they had been at it. The mages were tiring and the girls were fading too. She felt tears spring to her eyes as a young Asian girl was grabbed. Willow shouted a spell and the monsters dropped the girl, shrieking and writhing before they dusted. But she was too late, as the girl's open throat made clear.
Turning to the right, she saw Buffy and the Sunnydale girls plowing their way through another wave, but most of the slayers weren't doing as well. Faith swung the scythe and yelled, "Why isn't this stupid necklace doing anything?"
"A sky god trapped underground," Tara muttered, leaning against the wall and gasping.
"Get out of here!" Willow shouted at her. "There's plenty of us," she lied. "No point in getting yourself killed."
Another exhausted mage nearby nodded, and Tara leaned against his shoulder as they struggled out. Willow braced herself and took another shot. She'd keep chanting and blasting, but the ending to the story was obvious. They were losing. She had to fix it.
Something slashed against her back before she could finish the thought.
-------
Spike growled and sliced his sword through another beastie before it could take a bite out of a terrified chit hardly big enough to hold her own weapon. Another monster swooped in behind her and Spike lunged again. The girl sucked in a breath and did the same.
He was aware of blood seeping slowly down his chest from all the little nicks and cuts he'd taken. Individually they weren't much, but enough of them and he'd soon bleed out.
"All this sweet girl blood, must be making you hungry."
"Bugger off," he grunted, ignoring the shifting shade that had been popping up all morning.
"My dear boy, I'm only suggesting you enjoy a last meal. This will all be over soon."
"Willow!"
He whipped his head around, almost grateful for the distraction, to find Buffy brutally swinging her way through a swarm of his nasty cousins hovering over a splash of vibrant red on the ground. Spike lunged forward and twisted the head off one before it could sink its fangs into the powerful witch.
Her pulse was weak and her eyes fluttered. Little sparks popped off the ends of her fingers. Buffy ran her eyes over him, taking in the gashes and gore. "Get her out of here," she hissed.
"Not leaving you," he insisted with a firm shake of his head.
"I do not have time to argue with you!" Buffy hissed. "I love you and I need you to do this for me."
She turned to meet the next wave of attackers before he could protest. "The sky," Willow panted below him. With no small amount of anger at himself for being the good little soldier, he scooped the little witch up over one shoulder and started fighting his way to the steps.
In the dank of the school basement, he carefully set her down. Giles nodded at him, barely looking up from the girl he was bandaging. The girl nodded grimly, flexed her hand once, and headed back down the stairs.
"It's not going well down there," Spike said quietly.
"No," Giles agreed succinctly. Together they leaned over Willow.
"The sky," she slurred again.
Her hands shot up to grab both their shoulders and Spike thrashed against a wave of dizziness. There was a load crack and then he was scrambling weakly for a dim corner as Willow threw her head back and ragged holes forms in the floors and ceilings separating the basement from the sky. Giles seemed stunned as well, and then there was a roar from beneath them.
Pure light poured out of the Hellmouth.
"Did it work?" Willow panted. She sat up, eyes clouded white. "Did it work?"
Giles managed to speak before he could. "Don't you see?"
"Blind now. Did it work?"
"It did something," Spike informed her, still feeling wobbly.
Giles gave him a concerned look and tossed him a blanket from the stack of medical supplies. "Go."
Spike gathered Willow up in his arms and threw the blanket over them. Stumbling and still dizzy, he struggled with each step. "Red, what the bleeding hell did you do?"
Willow laughed drunkenly. "She's a sky god."
Spike shook his head and gave up trying to understand her. He hustled her into one of the covered army trucks on the school lawn. He lost all feeling in his legs as he heaved her into the back. Arms reached down and pulled his scorching body into the truck. Two dozen bleeding girls huddled inside, making his stomach growl.
The ground began to shake and he looked around at the terrified teens. The truck's motor was running, and he could smell the fear sweat of the driver. His woman was still in there, and their fair girls. And him completely useless.
------
Buffy stabbed another vamp and leaned on the sheath for a second to catch her breath. About half the girls were left fighting. The others had fled or been carried up to medical treatment. Or worse.
Somewhere under the pile of demons she'd just felled was Deirdre's butchered corpse. Shaking off the urge to cry, she rounded to take on the next group and instead saw her own face.
"Bravo. I mean, really. You pulled a nice trick. You came pretty close to smacking me down. What more do you want?"
Buffy squared her shoulders. "This isn't over." She knew she wasn't convincing anyone, especially not herself. "This isn't over," she repeated and spun around to take on the pair sneaking up behind her. Suddenly she was blinding by a burst of bright light.
"Holy shit!"
Buffy blinked as brilliant sunlight seemed to flood her field of view. She could make out the forms of Turok Han running before they exploded into dust. Girls were running too, back toward the stairs.
“I think this calls for an ‘I told you so’!” she shouted, but of course her phantom doppelganger was gone.
Faith glowed like a sun. The amulet on her chest glittered blood red in the white light. Her face blistered and the skin peeled.
"You have to go!" Faith shouted above the roar of the fleeing demons. The ground beneath her feet shifted and the ledge began to buckle and crack. Blood began to soak Faiths' clothes. "Get these girls out of here."
"Faith, what are you doing?" Buffy stumbled across the moving ground to grasp one burning hand.
"Cleaning this place up, looks like. Guess that's what this bad boy does. Pretty cool," she croaked.
Buffy shook her head. "I can't leave you here alone."
"Yes you can." Faith's blazing hand briefly grabbed her shoulder. "It was meant for me, and this is my job now. I was chosen for this."
"Buffy?" Yvette and Yvonne hugged each other and started up at her. "What do we do now?"
Faith shuddered and opened her arms, pushing Buffy away. "Go, Buffy. Now!"
"Get to the trucks!" Buffy screamed, trying to find all the girls through the glare. "Get the wounded and get above ground!"
Girls raced past her for the stairs, singly and in huddles with the wounded slung over their shoulders. She watched as another wave of vamps flashed to ashes against Faith's widening glow. With one last backward glance, she followed the last girl up the stairs.
The ground shook and shattered beneath her feet. Trucks were pulling away while girls poured into the backs of others. She boosted the twins into the back of the last one and reluctantly boarded it herself as fissures shot through the parking lot.
As they drove away, there was an intense burst of light, and then the school sank into the ground. The earth stopped shaking as the light slowly faded.
Buffy jumped out of the truck and ran back toward the school. There was nothing but a pile of rubble and no way in.
"Buffy? What happened?" She felt Giles's warm hand on her shoulder.
"Is it over?"
"Did we win?"
"What did this?"
She stood and let the tears come. "Yes," she answered them. "Yes." Buffy wiped at her face. "Faith did it, she saved us all."
"Looks like the Hellmouth is officially closed for business," Octavia proposed reverently.
"There is another one in Cleveland," Giles pointed out quietly.
Buffy felt a smile coming on as the truck full of girls moaned. "Giles is right," she told them. "We celebrate, we mourn. Then we go back to work."
As she made her way to the truck where she felt Spike's presence calling her, she silently added to herself, "no matter how much it hurts." She huddled in the truck between her battered lover and her unconscious friend and cried for her lost sister. It was so strange; it seemed like she should feel it in her soul, like when Kendra died. The tires rattled something on the ground, and she sat up straight.
Manhole.
“Stop the truck!” she shouted. She leapt out while it was still moving.
“Buffy?” Octavia tried to climb out after her.
“No, you stay here. I have an idea.”
She pushed the manhole cover aside and dropped down.
First flaw in the plan? It was dark. A few bulbs lit the way, but the new mayor was apparently not as conscientious of keeping the sewers in spiffy condition. Second and stickier was that she didn’t know which way to go. She closed her eyes and tried to do something Giles-y to focus and pick a direction.
As she walked it became obvious she was going the right way. Chunks of concrete and broken metal littered the path as she closed in on the school. She saw a shadow move in the dark, and then in the sulfuric light there was the First Slayer. Matted hair, brown and red, caked in mud.
Except that it was Faith.
“Hey, B.”
“Faith!” She threw her arms around the other slayer, despite the eight layers of filth. The gashes on her face were already healing up. Slayer healing, and then some. It made sense to Buffy.
“Whoa. Little sore here.” But Faith was hugging her back. “Come on. I want to get above ground.”
They made their way back toward the surface together.
“How did you know, anyway?” Faith asked. “With the school falling in and everything…”
Buffy shrugged. “I just knew.”
Faith licked her charred lips. “Yeah. You know, when you jumped off that tower, I felt it.” She sighed. “Lost a lot of girls today, didn’t we?”
Buffy nodded, not able to process that quite yet. “Will there be others, you know, that get called?”
Faith scratched at her scalp. “Man, I need a fire hose over here. Who knows? But yeah, I hope there’s a bunch of new girls getting all chosen as we speak.”
She could hear girls cheering as they climbed out into the sunshine. The world was safe again, at least for a day or two. “Hope is good,” Buffy agreed.
------------
I would love feedback on this chapter, this story, and this series as a whole. Also, any requests for fill-ins or follow-ups would be fantastic too. Thank you all, again!
If you are under the age of 17, please use your head and do not read fics that are labeled "NC-17". Parents, I cannot control what your children are reading, so please be advised that the majority of the fics archived here are NOT suitable for those under the age of 17.
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