A/N: My grateful thanks as ever to Megan for the betaing and support.

Thank you to all who have reviewed. I appreciate that bit of time and thought that you have gifted my way. Do hope you’ll continue to do so!

Chapter Five

Willow had woken from a broken sleep just before midday. Grinning happily to herself, she bounced down to the communal mess hall and scrounged some brunch from the chefs, not being able to face a British lunch so soon after waking. Calorie filled, she skipped back to her room and, thanks to her mental packing activity in the early hours of the morning, selected items in quick succession to stuff into her bag. She was going to see Buffy again after what seemed forever. Since Buffy had left over three weeks ago for her private vacation – and, if Willow was honest with herself, that still rankled a little – she’d awarded herself several best friend brownie points for tolerance and patience. Now she was gong to reap her reward, a little vacation of her own with her favourite Slayer. Even a sudden flicker of unwelcome memory appertaining to her last lover, the uber arrogant Kennedy, failed to make the thought of the word ‘Slayer’ mean anything but the, to her, best and original. Buffy.

Cramming the last of her can’t-go-without-it belongings into her bag, the Wiccan tripped lightly down the stairs and made her way to Giles’ study. Her tap on the door was answered as she entered the room.

Rupert was knackered. He hadn’t slept in over thirty hours and, at his time in life, that was unusual unless another almost apocalypse was rearing its ugly head. Once he’d sent Willow on her way to Somerset he fully intended to grab a few hours sleep before being on call for the flurry of information he fully expected to be winging his way. In the last few hours he had been anything but idle.

Rose’s near hysterical ramblings had alerted him to the fact that all was not well in Huish Mallet. With decisiveness, he had arranged for a wet ops team, fully equipped for any eventuality, to depart for the West Country. A team of four experienced operatives were, even now, approaching their destination in a black Council owned Range Rover. Rose would meet and escort them to accommodations in a neighbouring village; he would rather that the immediate locals were not privy to the presence of his team before any need for action was confirmed. That’s where Rupert would be relying on Willow.

“Hi, Giles,” Willow’s smiling glance took in the rumpled state of his clothes, the messed hair confirming her suspicions that the Watcher hadn’t yet rested. “I’m good to go. Anything new from the coven?”

Gesturing Willow to take a seat, Rupert briefly wondered if he were doing the right thing in allowing Willow to become involved in what might turn out to be a messy situation. Dismissing his doubts, he launched into an update of the facts as he understood them. “Yes, well, several things have come to light since, er, since you left.” Rupert knew his glasses definitely didn’t need cleaning. Damn. “The coven has managed to narrow the focus of last night’s event. Our suspicions have been confirmed, Willow. Whatever happened occurred in the vicinity of Huish Mallet.”

Willow’s face paled slightly, though whether from excitement at being given the opportunity to study the phenomenon more closely in the field or anxiety was difficult to deduce. Rupert continued, trying to keep the sequence factual. “Rose, Mrs Cadrew, entered Steepes Cottage at my behest to observe if anything out of the ordinary had occurred. The poor woman was somewhat alarmed to find blood on the walls and what appears to be evidence of heated blood in the kitchen.” At Willow’s shocked gasp he allowed a grim smile to grace his lips as he hurried to reassure the young redhead. “Buffy is unharmed, Willow. She’s been to Taunton on some shopping expedition today.”

Mention of Buffy being sighted up and about in daylight had done much to quell many of Rupert’s fears when Rose had called to inform him, not too long after her first communication. Knowing that Buffy was alive and hadn’t been turned brought a wave of relief, quickly followed by various unwelcome thoughts. ‘Why had Buffy not been in contact about the night’s happenings? Why would there be blood splattered in the cottage when it was not hers? What was she hiding?’ Unwelcome memories of other occasions when Buffy had hidden information from him made Rupert face the possibility that once again, without the guidance of her friends or himself, Buffy was acting unwisely. Sighing heavily at his onerous burden of care, he returned to briefing Willow.

“I’ll arrange for a taxi to pick you up from Taunton and take you to the cottage. Normally I would have asked Rose to collect you but…she’s busy at the moment.” Earning the stipend she received from the Council. “Willow, be extremely cautious until you discover what, if anything, Buffy knows about the temporal disturbance. Try to discover the reason for blood being seen in the hallway. If you weren’t a powerful witch I would hesitate…”

“Giles, it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Buffy will be fine. We’ll get to the bottom of this mystery and I’m sure you’ll have all the answers you need soon.” None of Giles’ words could dim the anticipation she felt at getting to see Buffy again. It would be just like old times, a mini Scooby get together with possible evil afoot to be vanquished. She and Buffy would find, fight, win and have lots of quality time as well. Of this, Willow was determined – she’d even packed her resolve face on the off chance she might need it.

“You have a fully charged mobile phone with you?” Willow nodded in answer to his question. “Good. If you are unable to use the phone in the cottage you’ll need to access the hill - ” Rupert passed an envelope to her, “behind the cottage. Full directions and a map are in there. I cannot stress strongly enough that I will expect you to contact me no later than midnight, Willow. If I don’t hear from you by then I will be forced to assume that you are in danger and take alternative measures.”

Sometimes Giles was just so cute, especially when he got that anxious look on his face. Willow wished he would understand that she was more than capable of taking care of herself now. “Sure thing, Giles. Go, take care, call before midnight. Got it.”

Feeling that there was a chance he was being mocked, Rupert smiled uncertainly as he rose. “Well, good. I’ll drop you off at the station then.”

***

The Slayer had been busy. Waking to find the new Spike so close to her had caused more than a little fluttering of her heart. He’d wrapped himself in a very becoming burgundy robe but Buffy was only too aware that he had no other clothing protecting his nakedness. Still, she had managed to see a little more of his chest and back when steri-strips had been removed from healed wounds, and sutures carefully cut and tweezed out of his well-muscled back. It was hard but she was trying to ignore the little shivers he made involuntarily whenever she touched him. The healing power he exhibited was truly amazing, even better than her own. This Spike would be sporting more scars than just the one that dissected his brow.

In a companionable silence they had settled into a rhythm as the clutter and mess from last night was tidied and cleaned. In less than an hour all evidence had disappeared, the cottage set to rights once more. Buffy couldn’t stop herself from glancing at him every few minutes, enjoying the look of surprise on his face as he took in the strange – to him – gadgets. With the electrical supply still dead, Buffy made do with a slice of bread and honey with juice for breakfast, not entirely surprised when the vampire joined her after refusing an offer of blood. Every time he caught her watching him he smiled, once almost tilting his head in an identical fashion to… Spike. They needed to talk. But other things took priority, like getting the electricity back up and running before everything in the fridge and freezer spoiled. Like getting clothes and pig’s blood for Spike. Like putting it off. ‘Damn! Get a grip, Buffy. Be brave with the emotions for once.’

“Is something wrong, Buffy?” This time the tilt was so there, and the questioning look in his eyes almost took her breath away; they were identical.

Stalling for time to regain control of her flustered feelings, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “Apart from the reflection, which is pretty strange, anything else that’s different? I mean, what about sunlight?”

A soft chuckle she was already beginning to associate with this vampire made her smile. “Good guess. I have a little more tolerance than most. Depends on how bright the sun is. On a day like today,” he nodded towards the kitchen window where the diffused sunlight streamed through, indicating a return to the bright days Buffy had enjoyed before yesterday, “I could be safe for a minute, possibly two. On overcast days I might be able to get away with five minutes, if I was lucky. Haven’t had too much cause to put it to the test.”

Buffy filed away the titbit of information showing yet another dissimilarity between this vampire and any other she had ever known. Later she’d ask him if all this was usual wherever he came from, but right now she had to make a start on her errands before the day disappeared in his company. Right now he was trying to hide a yawn and Buffy took the cue to prod him back up to bed.

“I have to go out for a few hours and you need more rest.” She didn’t miss the quick look of alarm that flashed across his face at the mention of her leaving. “Have to get you some clothes and try to find some blood that you’ll drink.”

The look of dismay her words evoked almost made her laugh out loud. “My being here is causing you problems, and expense. I’ll…I’ll leave at nightfall if it would be better for you, Buffy.”

Images of this Spike tromping around the countryside wearing nothing but a burgundy robe were definitely cause for amusement. Thinking of him lost and alone in a strange world, not wanting to be a burden to her or a drain on her resources, had Buffy blinking back tears. And making a possibly rash decision.

Grabbing his cool hand she led him back upstairs to the bedroom before dropping it to open a drawer and remove two books. Her journals. The good and the bad, her thoughts and her dreams, the written essence of Buffy and the Slayer. About to be placed in the hands of a total stranger with the face and mannerisms of a lost love.

Handing them to him, Buffy answered the unspoken question in his blue eyes. “Get some more rest. If I’m not back when you wake well…these are my private journals. They’ll explain a lot of stuff about me: my life, slaying, the vampires I’ve known. Everything. Not a pretty story. We’ll talk later.” She turned to leave but was halted by a hand on her shoulder that gently urged her back to face him.

“Buffy, I can’t read these. They’re private.” Everything in Spike rose up against such an invasion of her privacy. He hadn’t even known her for twenty-four hours and although he knew without doubt how he felt about her, how deep his feelings for her went, he had been hopefully anticipating getting to know her over a period of time; taking this shortcut did not feel honourable nor right.

Her hand found its own way to his cheek, softly caressing down to his jaw before dropping away. “Your choice, Spike. I’m just not so good with the explanations sometimes, and there’s already so much you need to learn about this world. Things that are gonna make your eyes pop. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.” This time she ran lightly from the room; moments later he heard the front door close behind her as she left the cottage.

***

It was mid afternoon when Buffy trudged up the drive, shaded from the pleasant warmth of the sun. Rose had seemed surprised to see Buffy when she’d knocked at her door that morning. It was the first time the woman had ever appeared flustered, a fact she quickly explained away by the extra work that the previous night’s tempest had caused her. Before Buffy could ask, Rose launched into a speech indicating that she would send someone up to clear the drive as soon as possible and to reset the electricity supply box. A frown itched to appear on Buffy’s brow; how had Rose known about the state of the drive and the power? She mentally shrugged it away, justifying it by the obvious state of the village.

At Buffy’s request for a lift into town, Rose was compelled to decline as she was otherwise occupied. The irregular bus service was bound to be even more unreliable today, for the same reason that everything was out of kilter, and Buffy ended up taking Rose’s offer to call a taxi. It was probably better that way. A strained cup of tea - in more ways than one - and twenty minutes later she waved Rose goodbye.

Taunton seemed quieter than usual for which Buffy was grateful. She quickly lost herself in the pleasure of shopping, somehow more pleasurable because it was not for her but for Spike. The only clothing she chose in black were socks and underwear, everything else was full of colour: dark blue denim jeans, tee shirts of every shade from white through red to deep blue; a dark tan leather jacket as well as a denim waist length one; shirts of red, blue and white; two pairs of boots, one soft suede and another sturdier pair, but not Doc Martens. On impulse she chose a silver watch and a heavy silver chain. Not necessities but something she thought he would take pleasure in.

In the drugstore she grabbed toiletries and, with extreme reluctance, a pair of hair scissors. She loved his hair; it was the outward definition of this new Spike in her life. But she didn’t feel that he would weather the crass mockery of today’s society as well as the older, more confident Spike who was now lost to her. Buffy knew she would do everything she could to spare him from any hurt, in any form. Suddenly she felt impatient to be back with him. Only two more things to get and she’d be on her way to the taxi rank.

A charity shop provided the large, worn leather bag that easily housed all her purchases at a price that made her smile. Having everything stuffed inside made it easier to move; no more multiple bags banging into her legs. On a back street she found an old-fashioned butcher who raised an eyebrow at her request for pig’s blood but was able to supply her with several quarts in insulated containers. Sighing with relief, Buffy made her way back to a place she now thought of as home.

***

He had tried to sleep. Strange and familiar sounds interrupted; livestock from neighbouring fields and a growling noise he recognised from the devil of the previous night. It seemed that there were many of them and that daylight did not deter them in the slightest. After dozing for a while, he gave up and left the soft comfort of a bed that felt lonely without Buffy in it. The journals called to him but he stifled it and slipped on the robe before going downstairs.

Something called to his memory, a feeling of familiarity about the cottage that he couldn’t quite place. When he entered the formal drawing room, a room he hadn’t seen before, a recollection from his childhood hit him hard.

He might have been seven, maybe eight, and his sister was unwell. Mama had sent him to stay in the country with his Uncle Arthur, a dedicated bachelor who was seldom mentioned in the house. William had travelled alone to Taunton on the steam locomotive, excited to be considered old enough to be trusted to make the journey by himself. It had been a grand adventure and he had been delighted with the freedom his uncle afforded him. Days were spent with the other lads from the village, fishing in the streams and re-enacting Wellington’s battles. It had been one of the few times he had felt accepted.

One night his Uncle Arthur had shown him a hiding place where a great treasure resided. His uncle had made him swear an oath to keep it secret until his death. How solemn William had been as he’d sworn upon a bible not to tell a living soul. Four years later he heard mama mention that Uncle Arthur had been killed, apparently by some vicious beast, origins unknown. Try as he might, mama had not taken his tales of a splendid treasure seriously, eventually becoming annoyed at his insistence that Uncle Arthur had left something for them. He later found that the cottage had been sold to his uncle’s employers in London. Gradually he had forgotten with the passing of time. Now he was sure he looked upon the self same fireplace and that he was in fact in his uncle’s cottage; much changed from his memories but the same nevertheless.

Reaching into the recesses of his memory as William, Spike muttered under his breath as he counted bricks from the top of the hearth and from left to right. With anticipation he pulled one brick loose and put his hand inside the opening, smiling in triumph when his hand pulled out a small worn leather drawstring pouch. Carefully replacing the brick, Spike moved into the kitchen to wash the soot and dust from his hand before opening the pouch and pouring the contents onto the counter. Even in the dimmed light fire sparked from the twenty or so diamonds. They ranged in size to one as big as his thumbnail to pea size. All gave off a gleam of quality, the cut and polish impeccable. Spike grinned to himself; now he had something to offer Buffy.

The sound of footsteps on the gravel outside induced Spike to quickly take to the stairs. Although he hoped it would be Buffy, none of the prickling sensation he associated with her presence manifested itself. He listened as the front door opened and a heavy tread echoed through the cottage; something clicked and then whoever it was left.

Relaxing, Spike’s eyes fell on the journals once more. They tempted him and he was weak. With trembling hands he opened the top one and started to read.

***

The smile on Buffy’s face grew as she approached the cottage and opened the door. She’d been gone for longer than expected and was impatient to be reunited with the resident vampire. Entering the informal room on the right, she dropped the leather bag and took the insulated blood to the fridge, sighing with relief when it proved to be back up and running.

Bounding up the stairs, she entered the bedroom. A tear stained face looked up at her entrance.

“I’m not him. I’m not the one you loved.”

A/N: I hope that this entertained. You would make me very happy if you have time to review. Depending on response I will post the next chapter later – definitely tomorrow at the latest (UK time). Two more chapters to go.