Hey!  Look!  It's only been a week and I'm posting again!!!  Told you I've whipped my muse into shape!  Anyhow...I'll make this quick, sorry for not answering your reviews.  I love each and everyone.  My plans are to answer all of them and I'm sorry about the delay.  Also, I want to thank my lovely betas, Sanityfair and Diebirchen.  Love ya!!!!

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“Pray tell, Angel, how are you familiar with spells of this caliber?”  Giles stood to full height, his cynical gaze fixed.

“Is that truly important, Rupert?  The way I see it, all that matters is figuring out and ending the spell affecting Buffy.”
 
When Angel approached the makeshift altar, his attention was immediately drawn to the damaged bowl in the center.  Carefully, he dipped two fingers into the residual shimmering liquid clinging to the sides.  He rubbed his coated fingertips with his thumb, raised them to his nose, and inhaled deeply.  His eyes instantly flashed with alarm.

“I suggest you all back away from here, right now!”
 
Heeding Angel’s raucous warning, Giles stepped back toward Xander and Willow, who both stood off to the side wearing matching uneasy expressions.

“Wh—what is it, Angel?”  Willow nervously stammered, holding tightly a jar of burba weed.

“It’s golden ichor.  I’ve only come across this once before, but I know it’s extremely toxic to humans.”
 
Willow and Xander collectively took a big step back as Giles stepped forward, striking his classic “inquiry pose”: glasses off, every-ready handkerchief, circling the lenses, eyes narrowing in thought.

“If you’ve only come across this once before, how can you be certain, Angel?”
 
 

Outside a small Grecian village, 1895
 

“Now, now, be a good lass.”  Angelus roughly squeezed the breast of the squirming blonde-haired maiden trapped in his arms.
 
He was still bitter from Darla’s indiscretions with the Immortal, so over the past year he’d chosen to hunt and feed alone, taking out his ever-heightening violent, sadistic pleasures on his victims.
 
“Gotta say, ‘m torn whether to drain you during or after I’ve fucked that sweet cunt of yours.  Mmm, decisions, decisions.”
 
As his fangs scratched the surface of her throat, Angelus was struck hard on his upper back, causing him to release his quarry and stagger off to the side.
 
With an irritated growl, Angelus turned and squared off with the bastard who’d dared to interrupt his feed.  Unexpectedly, he stood eye to eye with a satyr—half man, half goat, with cloven feet, horse-tailed, a lengthy beard, and small horns with large pointy ears surrounded by long, wavy black hair.
  
“How dare you try feeding off my nymph?”  The satyr’s booming voice triggered Angelus’ wolfish smile.
 
“Oh, I dare, quite a bit actually.  And just between the two of us, I’m not one to give up that easily, and since I haven’t had somethin’ this sweet in over thirty years, the question ya truly need to be asking yourself, is this particular sidhe worth fightin’ me for?"
                                                                                                                              
His opponent’s answer came with the swing of his thyrsus, missing Angelus only marginally.  Still wearing a smug grin, Angelus added snidely, “I guess she is.”

Their fight was brief; ending with Angelus’ front pressed against the other immortal’s back, roughly fisting his hair, and stretching his neck for the bite.  Without delay, Angelus struck, pulling away only moments later, cursing and spitting out the mouthful of blood.

Disgusted, Angelus growled and took off into the night, looking for another kill to wash away the lingering foulness.
 
 
 
Present

 
“Believe me, I’m certain.  What I’m not certain of is why she would use this in her spell.  Clearly, she was mortal, and ingesting this would’ve killed her instantly.”
 
“Do you think she was trying to, you know…”  Sadness weighed heavily in Willow ’s tone, her eyes almost pleading for someone to disprove her fear.

“Remarkably, I don’t believe she was trying to take her own life.  However, the only way to know for certain is locating another clue—” Giles’ attempt to soothe Willow’s concern was interrupted by Xander who was pointing to a scrap of parchment at his feet.
    
“Hey guys, maybe this sheds some light on operation harry carry.”
 
Angel lifted the page from the floor and laid it out on the counter near the register.  He was soon joined by the others.

“So what does it say exactly?  It’s all Greek to me,” Xander joked as he peered over Giles’ shoulder.

“Precisely.”  Giles nodded and resumed his examination.

“Well, that makes sense, in a not kinda way.” Xander blinked in confusion.

“Xander, it is written in Greek.”  Willow rounded the counter to have a better look.
 
“Indeed, which I ashamedly must admit, my knowledge of is quite limited.  What I can tell you is that this group of lettering here translates into the word "soul."  If you notice, this word is repeated several times throughout the text.  Beyond this, I am afraid this will require far more research.”
 
“Giles, why don’t you take this back to the library and start translating.  I’ll stay here and see if I can dig up anything else.”  After giving brusque directions, Angel returned to the altar to continue checking out the remaining items.
 
 
Get. Girl. Now!

For the last hour, since his unexpected, yet substantially cock-straightening lip-lock, Spike had been solely focused on getting free and finding the Slayer.
 
Eventually, it all paid off when the left manacle let out the smallest whine of metal bending.  He immediately went to work on this weakness and at long last, a marginally pried opened link granted him just enough room to free himself.  Then more determined than ever, he worked on the right.
 
After an hour, he was finally freed.  Without wasting a moment of time, he tracked her to Revello Drive, scaled the house, entered her bedroom window, and now stood at the edge of her bed, watching her sleep.
 
Then, appearing to sense his presence, her eyes fluttered opened, and she sat up, searching the darkness.  While uncertainty filled her features, Spike found he was strangely hoping for the best but expected and feared the worse.
 
What he hadn’t expected, even in his wildest imaginations, was her opening her arms and bed to him.  Not giving her a moment to change her mind, Spike shed his coat and covered her lips with his.
 
Soon, his eager hands had stripped her almost bare with the exception of her cotton camisole gathered over her breasts and the thin scrap of lace guarding the only heaven he’d ever be allowed near.
 
Over and over, he savored every inch of her before stilling and hovering mere inches from her clothed sex.
 
Again, he patiently waited for her consent.  It came with the slightest lifting of her hips and her whimpered displeasure.  This was all he needed before latching his mouth onto her, teasing the sensitive flesh underneath.
 
Her orgasm was swift and staggering, further dampening the fabric with the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted.  Spike drew out her climax until her body slackened, her breathing and heart rate decreased, and she fell into a restful slumber. 

With a lingering kiss to her inner thigh and to her lips, he covered her, then with a parting glance, crawled out the window, and raced through the streets of Sunnydale, heading back to the mansion.
  
Spike quickened his pace, knowing with the rising sun came Angel’s return.  With moments to spare, he entered the mansion.  As he predicted, with dawn’s approach, he heard Angel descending the garden stairs.

Spike quickly reattached his bindings, and feigning sleep, he bowed his head just as Angel entered.  He listened intently as Angel crossed the room before stopping and taking a deep breath, his features shifting into his demon and emitting a low growl.  Remaining still as the dead, Spike waited for Angel’s demon to recede and take his leave to his bedroom.

When Spike finally heard Angel’s bedroom door slamming closed, he lifted his head and slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, savoring the Slayer’s sweetness clinging there.
 
 
 
 
Author’s Notes:

Angelus’ tussle was with a Satyr. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satyr

Thyrsus is a “was a staff of giant fennel (Ferula communis) covered with ivy vines and leaves, sometimes wound with taeniae and always topped with a pine cone.” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thyrsus
 
Angelus saying: “since I haven’t had somethin’ this sweet in over thirty years…” was referring to when he found, tortured, and turned Drusilla.
Sidhe “the fairy folk of Ireland, from (aos) sídhe” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_English_words_of_Irish_origin

Harry Carry is “to commit suicide (from the Japanesse expression to slice oneself open with a ritual sword. A gross simplification of the actual Japanese expression.)  http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=harry%20carry
 
“It’s all Greek to me” means “idiom/dead metaphor in English, claiming that an expression is incomprehensible, either due to complexity or imprecision.  It may have been a direct translation of a similar phrase in Latin: "Graecum est; non legitur" ("it is Greek, [therefore] it cannot be read"). This phrase was increasingly used by monk scribes in the Middle Ages, as knowledge of the Greek alphabet and language was dwindling among those who were copying manuscripts in monastic libraries.”  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_to_me