Blessed, blessed by a customers odd or not odd really more like even, an even steven trade and barter for the Bard

Happily Ever...

Giles told a story of love: of love; of the enmity in nature between natural foes. Consider the mongoose and the Cobra; almost perfect opponents of completely different origins. One warm blooded, one cold and the win, the win, is never a given.

“Nag, come up and dance with death...” it slipped from Willem unbidden and Giles concurred.

“Ah, yes...Rikki-Tikki-Tavi...” Giles smiled, just slightly, just slightly on his lips and just dusting his eyes--he had him, he had hooked his audience of one and almost won. The hook was the trick and Willem was hooked and simpatico too.

And so Willem lowered his head as he listened to a tale of terrible fate and a curse and the jealousy of Justice and her swinging sword and the energy spent to keep the love suppressed because if the cobra ever forgets his nature and cuddles too close; the love is lost, overwhelmed by the venom in fangs and nature forcing him back to black.

Quiet, for a moment as the fire crackles and Willem asks so softly.

“Why can’t love transform nature? Why can’t the love turn the venom sweet?”

“A curse. A gypsy curse.”

Long pause. Willem looks at Buffy but her lids are lowered, her thoughts, her own.

Finally, Willem asks/muses

“A curse is from the outside.”

Giles leaned back in his chair and waited, followed Willem down the path he knew so well. But he listened, tired now of old ways, old thoughts and wanted, needed now a happy end for his proxy daughter and so was willing now to hear a second opinion, to hear something new.

Please tell me something new...

“Something breaking in from the outside can be...put out.”

Willem sipped his tea/brandy as he slowed his breathing, as he calmed himself, his heart, his mind, just slowed down to be all that’s left...a thinker...and thinkers think.

“Start the problem from the inside...from inside the house. What exists inside all beings? What is at the core of cosmic law? Here on Earth it is free will choice. Free will choice and slavery are the biggest issues on this planet throughout time. If free will is in place, every, any chain can be broken, eventually, sometimes easily. It is the law. It can be done with a proclamation called out from the heart and...thas’ it, thas’ all--goodbye is all he wrote...it may need to be repeated until the subject gains authenticity back...but there is no need for something like the Seal of Ohm.”

Willem watched and Spike waited coiled but calmed too, he’d had the practice of a century of heartbreak, he could do this...he could, he could get through this interview without a flutter...

Them.

Giles and Buffy looked at each other and Buffy nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Do you know of the Slayer?”

“I take it we’re talking somewhere outside the world of the Jabberwok.”

“Yes, quite...and then no, not at all--same idea, the slayer, but different gender. The legend of the Vampire Slayer. Do you know it?”

“Yes.”

Simple.

“What do you think?” Giles asked

A beat.

“What I think is not material to the issue, mate. You tell me what to think and I’ll see if I can fit it in to what’s left of me mind after the wear and tear and all. And taxes, don’t forget taxes.”

“Who could?” Giles chuckled. He liked him; he liked this odd man, who could offer levity at surely what must be recognized a tender issue for his guests. Giles began without preamble.

“A vampire slayer in love with an ensouled vampire--after they consummated their love, his soul was forced out; it was a condition of the curse.

“No love, no joy...the having but not the holding...”

“Precisely...and with the Seal of Ohm, it could be possible to reconstitute the vampire, to create a double within the exact same space, all characteristics the same, the soul, all aspects the same--but rebound within the exact same space...less the curse...”

“Sorta like taking all the pages of a book but rebinding under a different cover.”

“Exactly.” Giles nodded.

Willem studied the material on the arm chair, suddenly fascinated with interweave, the interlock of colors, fibers, all the little bits interlocking to cohesion. Little bits of fiber, separate colors, different intentions to a final weave goodbye.

He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

“But the curse appears to be the binding element, how can you imagine a body without the bones...”

Buffy sighed and leaned back in her chair, head resting against the back. Long slim neck, swan dive...

“Ducks, surely I’m not assessing something you’ve haven’t? I’m sure you’ve already considered all this--but for the sake of hearing myself...let’s cover it from the top.”

Willem sipped his tea, hot liquid easing the way, making a pathway, stomach to heart to head. He went on.

“The chain of events goes something like this. We are on this Earth plane bound by agreement--we would like to think it’s destiny, cuz that takes personal responsibility out of the equation...but that’s all just rattle cans and prattle and the slavery part of it isn’t it? Throw destiny, throw slavery at us like it’s a gifty we should keep safe but really it only makes the slayer a holy slave, right? Your Slayer bound in chains by the word ‘destiny.’ This Vampire by the word ‘curse.’ Same principal to maintain the illusion that you aren’t free--you think it’s the supporting beam of the house an’ thas what holds it all together right? You think it is so--and so it is.”

Willem’s eyes crackled a little as he warmed to a favorite topic...well tread terrain.

“Now this next part is important--the slayer fights, really, really because whatever it is that compels her or any warrior is in the nature of who she is...in her soul, she wants a better world MORE than...not; so she fights, couldn’t stop if she tried....and as for the other: the man agrees to be a vampire--“

“--But he didn’t--“

“Didn’t he then? Did you ever ask him how it happened?”

Beat, Buffy looks away. Willem continues.

“He may not have had a clue, one single real clue about what he had agreed to...but the dark felt right didn’t it then? Power. And he walks out into it, thinking...’it’s just the night, just me in night and the moon too’...but no. It doesn’t happen that way, does it? Now it’s no more light, and that’s the price for thinking, one slip with wicked won’t count. So the man makes a free will decision and now he’s host to a houseguest who walks about like he owns the place--because he does. The demon has full property rights by metaphysical law; that is, until this curse kicks in and it’s thrown in the basement.”

Willem took a sip of tea/brandy and then went on.

“The Soul may have run roughshod and stolen the house--but the owner by rights is still there....in the cellar and no theft is gonna change the name on the deed. So the demon owns the house cuz it was sold to him fair and square and the soul is now the tyrant. The curse is in fact...the act of injustice against cosmic law and remove the unjust act, that is, the curse, and justice will be in play by the protocol of nature. That is, the demon resumes full residence.”

Willem leaned forward and looked Giles dead in the eye and spoke very low.

“To do this thing...they way you have just suggested...you would not be acting as liberator, you would become the slave master of the slave master. You would have to bend the gypsies to your will and hold them there. You can not invoke cosmic law--because the law would be on the demon’s side.”

Willem put his cup of the coffee table and tapped the edge of it for emphasis.

“You would have to dominate the dominators and bend the curse to your will...and that...is very, very BLACK magic and do you really want to break so many of the cosmos’s laws?”

He leaned back now and let this sink, sink, sunk.

When Buffy spoke her voice seemed tired, but her will was still strong.

“How can that be? How can demons ever be right? How can they be allowed possession at all--”

“The law applies to good and evil alike. It is indiscriminate. Judgment exists of course...but that comes after, even if it’s ‘just deserts’ or karma or whattall’...but action itself...that is, to choose one road or another is guaranteed by law. This world’s law is free will. Free will allows possession, call it a technicality but it puts God off the hook. Hey go ahead and rail and rant and whine and cry--it’s one of my favorite ways to spend five hours straight, but it’s the house rules of this dimension and you can shock the Matrix, but do really want to gamble and take on the House?”

“And yet the Gypsy curse works--they did it, they broke the law...” Buffy insisted.

“And what’s makes you think they aren’t paying for it?”

Willem’s soft voice cut straight through to the heart of it. He waited for a moment and then continued.

“And for how many generations? I’ll wager they are as bound to that Vampire as master to slave as slave is to master. Not too many happy endings in that family, I’d wager--“

“--O.K. O.K.--got it. Got it.” Buffy cut him off and looked at Giles who could only be thinking of Jenny but his gaze was fixed as he stared into the fire.

Pause. They both watched Giles breathe in and out and oh yes it happened again...another breath and then...

“You’re right.” Giles said softly.

“I am?” Willem seemed surprised. “And I wasn’t even trying...”

The barb fell a little hard, stung a bit and he was instantly sorry. Didn’t want to hurt that hard, not really--wanted to enjoy their dead end but no, no, not this much...William was good, William had been a good man...

You are too you know.

The words didn’t come from either Buffy or Giles, they didn’t come formed by breath at all, but still alive, and from the side and inside too. Well if you’re confused just wait until you see this:

A red fox was walking gingerly on the mantle piece over the fireplace his warm brown eyes steady on Willem and a little pink tongue lolling to the side.

Hello Red Fox

Hello Spike.

Wish you’d not call me that.

If wishes were fishes...

We’d be walking on tuna--

Red Fox yelped a yip in ecstatic appreciation of that dream day.

Haven’t seen you for a while.

Red Fox just smiled. As if to say ‘well that’s the point of being a fox if you know I’m there...’’

Great, my luck to have a spirit guide whose time is spent in finding cunning ways to hide.

Red Fox Smiled.

Spike thought:

Don’t know why you bother...hiding doesn’t change who you are--

Spike stopped suddenly a little pissed at Red Fox and his student heal thyself teaching method.

You lazy sod--‘spose you’re thinking I just told myself something there, or so you’d say IF you ever did offer any advice--

Red Fox smiled and his eyes said ’love you too Spike’ and then yawned and lay on his side on the mantle and fell promptly asleep.

Spike huffed and puffed and blew his own house down--nowhere to hide. He was a good man.

He was a good man.

He looked at Buffy her eyes downcast her face slightly crumpled and there was no place to hide--he had to help. It’s who he was and especially when with her. He was born to help her and thas’ the end of it.

He closed his eyes and when he opened them he found Buffy and Giles staring at him fixed, expectant and...WELL?

“Where did you go?” Buffy asked a little tremulous. “You were talking and then you just stopped and stared off. Epilepsy?”

“Huh. I wish.”

If wishes were fishes. Red Fox rolled onto his back getting comfortable.

“Oh shut up, you bloody walking neck wrap.” Spike snapped at his spirit guide who was lounging on the mantle. Red Fox yawned at him and fell back asleep.

And Buffy bounced a little at THE VOICE and cadence she would have recognized anywhere as...Spike’s

“Is there someone else here? Do...do you talk to the dead? Cuz for a moment there you sounded exactly and I mean exactly like someone I knew--“

Had to cut that off

“--No it’s just Red Fox.” Willem said gently, voice pattern shifting from ‘S’ back to ‘W’ “Sorry...he can--“

“Redd Foxx the actor? But he’s dead, right?” Buffy queried still hoping for a hot line to her departed, so many departed.

“No, no Red Fox the spirit guide, spent some time with the Nez Perz Natives--and when I was there, Red and I...well...we sorta got attached to each other, but...he gets that a lot--claims to actually know Redd Foxx, but who’s he kidding? The dead have better things to do than come hang ‘round here, I expect.”

“I hope so.” She sounded sincere.

“Lost someone did you?”

“Might we stay on topic?” Giles asked mildly but he had the high ho Sir John Guilguid on and that meant the task, the task, Buffy dropped the bereaved and looked hopefully for news for Liam.

Whatever. Bullocks. Watever.

“What did...er...your guide say?” Giles asked

“Certainly never gives directions...you know for a guide...I’d be bloody well lost on tour wouldn’t I then?” Willem spoke significantly to THE FOX laying indolently on the mantle piece, which just opened an eye and shit! He winked!

No I didn’t-- now let me sleep.

Buffy looked defeated and...and...

Willem shook his head...incredible...just right, really and then...just then without warning...he started speaking, didn’t know what was coming just wanted to stop her pain and this is what he said:

“There is one, well, two things you could do...first...you could get the demon to agree...get it to coexist...timeshare, whatever, with the soul. Get the demon to want the soul, Get the demon to fight for it; to earn it...can be done...”

“Not by him.” Giles said coldly.

Buffy looked at Giles and spoke a shade lower as if this made the conversation private.

“It can...it has been done...but no...not him...that wouldn’t work, Angelus would never want it. No, that wouldn’t work,”

Alright this was it then, this next idea that had suddenly popped into Willem’s head was the real thing, the thing that could make it all the way to the top of the Matterhorn.

Silence, the beat before the band begins to play the song so striking it will change the march to ‘Forward ho’!

Willem took in a deep breath and said it.

“A divorce.”

Buffy and Giles stared at him with similar little caterpillar eyebrows doing the scurry up...and Willem thinking ‘hurry up man’ get it out before you change your mind.

“The demon is unhappy, unjustly imprisoned an al’, the soul is unhappy, never able to have the experiences it needs to grow. Appeal for a divorce.”

“Death?’ Buffy’s voice was even

“No...well; of a kind...maybe...The Seal of Ohm could, might be used to restore balance that is--invoking justice by granting a divorce to your Vampire. It would have to be mutual of course. Uncontested. The soul made human gets the body, possession of the house...and...and...the demon gets...set free...

“Angelus set frr...free?” Stuttered Giles

“Angel...a man?” Wondered Buffy.

“It could be done. It...it might not break the laws as I understand them, I’ve only five years on those particular laws so you should definitely get the opinion of a top Shaman--I could recommend someone if it comes to that...and...and you would have to get permission of course...but justice...go this way and justice will be done but that means it’s a blade that cuts two ways. That’s all I can offer.”

Pause.

“Its...quite a bit actually.” Giles spoke softly, gaze already turned inward to implications, imperfections of potential plans.

“How do you know all this?” Buffy asked. Strange, that she was curious about him, but her curiosity didn’t matter to him now; nothing mattered and his answer was brief.

“Sorry...it’s personal...”

She accepted that.

“The Seal of Ohm--where might we find it, do you know?”

“Right there in your hands, mate.”

“This?” Giles seemed shocked: “In bloody circulation of the public at large?”

”Well, not in total, the Navajo, the Nez Perz, so many indigenous peoples--“

“--Ah yes, of course” Giles chimed in excited now that he picked up the thread “Oh of course, shamans, medicine people would draw the symbol but keep one part, one very small but vital part secret. So here you have the secret hidden in plain view. The symbol was there, the people could feel the power and be impressed by the authenticity of the intention...but the full force was hidden for their own good...”

“Yeah, ‘thas’ right, you got it--somewhat like ‘The Bomb’ I except, a bloke, even a good bloke might be tempted to drop it just to see if it works.”

“People are born button pushers...” Buffy observed Willem chuckled and replied.

“That would be a fact. So the key is kept secret and handed down mind to mind.”

“What is the key?” Buffy asked

Their voices were quiet now, as if on some inner auto redirect to caution. Yellow light flashing.

“Oh bloody hell, I don’t know that...look at me--I’m just a silly shopkeeper...”

And suddenly Buffy did and Willem was instantly sorry he asked for this scrutiny. He certainly did not seem like ‘just a shop keeper’. More like a retired soldier, a tiger hiding behind kitten cloth.

“Ohm” Ripper said it and it stopped the room, and moved the world as it has for eons...

Willem leaned in and spoke softly “Yeah, I think so...”

“What’s in a name?” Giles wondered

“Everything. It’s the Seal of Ohm; logic says you ask the guy who’s holding the copyright. You need to ask Ohm.”

Buffy leaned in from the chair just left of Willem’s, her knees almost touching his, she reached in then and touched the sleeve of his shirt on his forearm to get his attention, felt him stiffen and shrink from her touch and she withdrew. Huh. Was just trying to get his attention, wasn’t trying to steal butter from the Queen. She shook off the rejection and asked quickly.

“And who is this ‘Ohm’? Is there a speed dial?”

“Buffy” Giles cautioned “Ohm is the universally accepted phonetic sound for...God...”

Stunned.

“We...we have to ask God...like the God?”

Willem looked down and said nothing.

“Oh god...er...gosh...I mean gosh...” Buffy breathed

“Yes...Yes...Quite...” Giles removed his glasses for a fine flossing of fabric in the cracks and crannies and a good old fashioned wipe and swipe.

Then Let it Come Down...

It had to be soon now, it had to be soon...he was nearing the end...after the task, the search, the mind bender, all, here brain, here comes the twister...all his eyes had left to do was look out, not in--just out at her.

Small glances, sidelong feasts to last the rest of his life--her hair was long again, longer than he ever remembered, just, fell, and fell and draped her body like a best garment. His mind quickly imagined golden hair landing on her naked flesh and wow, Venus buster. No wonder her life had been so hard--old Aphrodite kicking up a jealous: ‘ho ha hey there mere mortal’--well not mere. No Slayer was a mere or a Mare. My god, I wonder, if she’s a Mam. Seven years was a long time, and he had often wondered but had never looked, never scryed...not once, no spoilers, never knowing was better and now here she was, with or without his willing.

God must really hate him.

Red Fox, opened an eye, raised his head and gave him ‘the look...’

Buffy broke the silence first.

“And how do we...uh...uh...”

“Talk to God? Well that’s the question for the miles on the road in’t it? You can try the Akashic records or old fashioned prayer, anyway that’s your look out and good luck trying to get a return phone call from that--pardon me French--“

--arhph yip!

Red Fox barked a caution yip and Spike held his tongue.

Fine. Just fine, but now he had to get rid of these two.

Is that really what you want?

Red’s tongue was lolling again and Spike ignored him.

It has to be soon, soon, he felt a rip happen somewhere like fabric bending under the strain of overload, the clock was ticking on his control.

Red got it and agreed. He barked at Giles and Giles shook his head as if to break dance into movement.

“Fine, yes well...we won’t take more of your time, you’ve been extremely helpful and may I assume...I may, might buy this book?”

Willem nodded and rose and walked to the cash register without a word. He had to move, to get away...or in any moment he may break down and bury his face between her breasts and beg for mercy, mercy, to cry her name, to hear his name fall from her...to feel her run her fingers through his hair like she was spinning a weave. At the spinning wheel and how the world moved beneath his feet, too fast, too fast...now that they were up and moving toward thanks and farewell it was all happening too fast...

He rang up the sale and bells bounced back like it was good news. Pounds, plenty of pounds and Giles tried to tip him but with one solid ‘look’ he knew that was a ‘no’ and didn’t insist, didn’t push...and instead Buffy stepped up close and asked

“What? What can we do? How can I repay you?”

He looked her in the eye and held the tears but they were there, just there on the inside of his voice and he begged the weak water to wait, she had never liked seeing him cry, but they were there, they were there and even unseen the pressure pushed behind his voice so she knew they were there.

She wanted to touch him, he knew that, could feel comfort come from her, her need to comfort this odd man in this strange moment--she was a good woman, she was a good woman, but god please don’t let her touch me...

Red Fox made a yip and Buffy stilled her hand and instead asked again: “How can I repay you?”

Giles was by the door but he waited as well for the answer, for the topper to the evening.

Willem/Spike looked at Giles and said “Be sure, be very, very sure...” and then treated himself, gave himself this--he looked into Buffy, into her eyes, moist with gratitude and a glimmer of hope ignited for long lost love and Willem/Spike said.

“Be grateful...”

Her voice so soft it was barely there: “Thank you.”

“Not just me...not me...something, anything...pick a thing, anything and just be...grateful...”

It shouldn’t make sense but she got it. She smiled a bit and he could see her need to touch him, just touch, just some small finger tap....so he stepped back away from her hand to make it easy on her...no need for her to feel obliged to be nice, and he walked to the door away from her warm hands and her electric touch and unlocked, and opened and looked down.

And she nodded at him and without trying again or looking back; followed Giles through the door.

And was it raining? Of course it was.

He stumble fell into the chair by the fire, door still open, still hanging ajar...and poor heart, poor heart, excruciating rip--right there in his beating heart and there was no bone in the heart was there? So what could hurt so bad it felt like breaking? And he had had plenty of bones broken over the years so he should know.

Where did the pain come from? Puzzled, he rent his shirt apart and thumped his chest and banged and knocked but the pain wouldn’t stop...

“Oh god, how you must hate me...bringing her here...”

Red Fox leapt from the mantle to the top of the chair.

You’re a good man--

“No, no, I’m not...I’m a monster...” Spike said it aloud in his own voice, in a rasp

Who’s the better man... the one that says ’oh yeah, right, right away I’ll do that job, consider it done’, says ‘I’ll get right on it’- but runs off. Him...or the sod who complains, and complains and complains all the way out to the field, complains all the way through the work complains all day but still, at the end--the apples are in and it’s pork chops and applesauce for all. So, you tell me--who’s the one I want on my team?

Spike was crying, sobbing even and barely heard just hung on to the sides of the chair--still here, still here...still alive...

Red Fox leaned his head down and rested it on Spikes shoulder.

Go ahead curse me out if it helps, I can take it--but I’m not leaving.

I won’t leave you not ever and that’s the deal Cammile...

I’ll never, never leave you...

Spike shook his head and thwacked his chest again...

The wind banged the door a bit, and the rain was blowing in now and with nothing to stop it, the collected works of children’s author Walter Farley along with illustrations and all were in danger of permanent damage.

The door banged again, bringing the possible blight to Spikes attention...and after a moment of considering to build or not to build...Noah got up to tend the ark.

Still crying, still stumbling, Willem and Spike closed the door against the storm.

They had made it to the rented car, just made it just before the worst of it came down. Inside, and suddenly safe against the raging lost water, they sat in silence.

The rain tested proclamations of weatherproofing, of the benefits of vehicles made of steel; the wind had an idea or two as well and threw a lick and a kick up the traces. The little car leaned a bit and jigged but remained otherwise unmoved.

They were quiet, but that was all right, they had a lot to think about. Finally someone spoke, it was Buffy and what she said was unexpected and would have seemed almost a non sequitor if...Giles hadn’t known her so well and for so long.

“Did you notice he didn’t ask where we were staying? Or where we were from or anything--like...he didn’t care if he ever saw...us

again.”

“The Romans invaded Northumberland, and the Vikings, and both left their mark on the generations.”

Buffy didn’t look at him but was listening.

“The classic Roman profile, aquiline features, you’ll see that around these parts. A mix of fair hair with black or...blue eyes.”

Not him. Giles was saying: not him.

“So you noticed too?” She asked and Giles shrugged.

“I’m used to seeing such variations on a theme; I wouldn’t be as...surprised by it as you, I suspect...”

“Still...interesting person...” Buffy mused

“Hmm...yes...--

“He is not what he seems/There’s a tiger in the tank” Giles/Buffy said respectively and then looked at each other and smiled.

“Well....there’s nothing wrong with our radar...what are you thinking?” Buffy asked.

Giles stroked the side of his face, and patted the book he had tucked under his jacket to keep safe from the rain.

“I think we proceed as planned, I’ll drop you at the motel and I’ll head to Harrogate--“

“In this mess? All those twisty roads not to mentions crazy people driving on the wrong wide of the road--“

“--Ah yes...well...we British do have our own ways--”

“--Not you. Crazy American drivers. Driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“Hmm..” Giles stifled the smile at the righteous conviction of Anglophile zealots and squinted up through the windshield; “Yes...it has gotten quite late...perhaps we’ll head out in the morning--“

“--No...I’ll wait here.” Buffy suddenly decided. “I’ll hook up with Dawn, she’s on her way down from Hamilton and wants to see Hades wall--“

“Hadrian’s Wall...yes, yes she would enjoy that--you might too. Beautiful countryside, the fells, the moores--”

“--More castles you mean.”

“--Inspiring land...” He continued, mind on a mission statement “Good for hiking, thinking....”

She was quiet.

“I know Giles, I know...”

He didn’t need to say it--he knew she knew but still he had to.

“Perhaps mediate--perhaps it might be wise to contact your guide or First Slayer...you know what’s best. But this is the perfect country for it--it fairly ripples with power.”

Giles started the car, and flipped on the lights and windshield wipers.

“I’ll visit with Midge in Harrogate, and then we talk Buffy. We brainstorm with Willow and the coven in Spilsby.”

“Giles, what aspect does Red Fox specialize in?”

“Ah...let’s see...” Giles squinted and he navigated through the rain...”You should look it up to be sure...but I believe, well, Fox-- that’s cunning of course, mental acumen, no surprise there--as he may have come up with a solution...red...well that’s fire isn’t it? Fire is power of course, the power of transformation; somewhat like going through the Kundalini--trial by fire.”

“Ouch....”

“Ah...yes, one might say, but as we know, all our...challenges are relative...all relative.” Giles cleared his throat and then asked.

“When is Angel arriving?”

“This Saturday. That is, if this pays off, this Seal of Omniscient--hey! I just got that.” (Giles rolled his eyes at ‘she who listens late’)

“But...but...he’s...he’s getting tired Giles, I can feel it...I wanna give him something to work toward...he needs something...to focus on...”

Willem’s warning fresh in his mind was repeated almost verbatim.

“We need to be sure, very, very sure...”

What could she say? It was true.

Come Dawn Come Down

Buffy watched them scampering, yeah, that was the word for it all right, and there they were, they two, them scamps chasing and pinching and any excuse to touch, to tackle, to roll about together in the grass.

Buffy sighed.

Dawn was in love.

They had both come out to the wall that morning, well the three of them Buffy and Dawn and Scott...Scott the Great. Great Scott. O.K. enough, Dawn was in love, she was, and her shining bright eyes already so large--couldn’t get big enough to drink in the lanky tall red headed Scottish Scott.

The first change Buffy had noticed in her sister since Dawn had left for Oxford (OXFORD) was ooh! Nice haircut, so very cut. A cut, well cropped really, long sway gone and now sassy, very Audrey Hepburn short and on most girls it would have been a disaster, but on Dawn, as on Audrey--it was her eyes, her lovely big gamine gaze turned the risk into brave and brilliant.

She was beautiful. Just a throw down stunner. And as if to prove it, Scott cave-manned her up over his shoulder and spun, spun like how kids do when they want to remember heaven. Spin until the world goes hazy and it feels like flying.

Buffy sighed again. She missed heaven...she missed (she almost said it--but didn’t...did not...) but how could she be surprised she missed him when she was in Northumberland, and every other Geordie sounded, reminded her, perhaps not in total--his accent had diminished from world travel, but it was enough, it was the cadence...that broad working class home spun...

Spin, spin, spin now see them fall, fall, fall and loving it. Falling in love and loving the fall.

Well, good for them.

So there was the moment with the haircut, so short, accentuating Dawns long slim neck, black velvet ribbon doubled up and around...say wait a minute Buffy knew that trick and had almost done a minny freak until Dawn undid the ribbon and let her sister see not a bite, well yeah it was, but of the hickey kind...

O.K. well that was alright. WAIT! What? Hickey equals...sex, yes? Oh god, oh great, another worry...but...why not happy? Why not a happy end for Dawny?

They had just driven down from Hamilton where it was all about ‘meeting the parents’ and ooh...’what a cool house they have, Buffy and they so want to meet you soon’.

Buffy had choked that one down. She was happy for Dawn, she was...it was something else...something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Not yet. Just a ping in her heart and a choky throaty thing that happened when she saw the two of them rolling around on the grass like the ‘well met’ moment before some...porno flick.

(Not that she had seen many of those)

“Ahem...its early morning and other walkers are at least a mile away, but there’s my lack of knowledge of your naked bodies entwined together, and I wanna KEEP IT THAT WAY!”

Buffy bounced this at the young man struggling to understand an upper garment that didn’t have buttons nor zipper and just how was he going to get past the cloth to those breasts?

Dawn laughed and pushed Scott’s hands away and suddenly he stopped...he grabbed her hands looked into her eyes and he just...stopped, time stopped, all of nature and the solar system besides stopped to watch as they looked into each others eyes, and then the miracle happened and Buffy saw it all.

The world was gone, the world was gone for them, Buffy was gone, the cool morning dew soaking their bottoms, the sun, all decisions, all matter all and all...dumped into the file of meaningless, next to...you...

What did the old world matter when you were discovering a new one?

The look in his eyes. Scott loved her sister, he did. There was no doubt, no doubt and that look said it all...devotion, loyalty and longevity...

Heart ping again. It was beautiful, it was good--so why the hurt?

Jealous?

No, no, not that...something else...

Dawn and her red headed lover rose and walked toward Buffy but strangely never took their eyes from each other.

“Um...Buffy, Scott and I are gonna go back into Newcastle, cuz I need to do some research...on the wall you know for school, gotta keep that Pirie Reid Scholarship--“

“--Amazing. Isn’t she foockin’ amazing?’ Scott asked in his Scottish accent. “No one ‘sides a Scot has ever won the Pirie Reid, she’s a stunner with languages...a stunner...”

He was so proud of her accomplishments and that was good, very good. How much had Dawn told him, about her, her past--last oil check Dawn had revealed that she had told him...nothing. Buffy would have to be careful abut what she said and did...but Dawn had better break that biscuit soon.

“Research huh?” And Buffy cleared her throat significantly like all of a sudden she couldn’t get enough of clear esophagus.

“Yeah, need to get some local books on the wall...might be some diaries, you know, personal account stuff like that, the big books have never dreamed of covering. There’s gotta be local legends...”

“Ooh ghost stories...” Scott intoned.

“Ah yeah...ooh.” Buffy said deliberately nonplussed.

They just laughed, by now they were used to the rest of world looking on, wanting in, but never, never to know the super, super

specialness of their love.

“You coming?” Dawn asked

“No, I’m gonna stay--I got my cell and can take the bus back, the 685 from almost any interval--if this map is well... mapped...I’m gonna do... a walky, hike thing. Seems the thing to do”

“When in Rome--“

“More like ‘roam...’” her voice drifted away at his puzzled expression, at his lack of comprehension at her simple pun.

Scott offered/asked dropped items into conversation but was never completely sure of himself with this odd sister and how her mind worked and the things she said. He hadn’t yet learned how to quip with her.

And so the best parts of his personality were secreted away, lest he be judged the village dolt for saying something wrong, he said nothing. So all Buffy really knew so far about this plain simple Scot, was: he had few skills, many freckles, no wit or much to offer really...except...except...that glowing love, the gift of his open heart.

He wasn’t as smart as Dawn, not nearly, and as far she Buffy could see, notorious Scottish economic thrift was infecting his sparse use of language...he was good looking in an ordinary way but Buffy would look at him and find herself wondering: what? Why? Why him?

But then she would see him look at Dawn, well, when he looked at Dawn that way, that way...his love for her made him Achilles and puppy all rolled into one.

Ping.

There it was again.

Oh. It was the ping of Pavlov. Ring ding the memory bank and poor piggy spilling the secret pennies.

In short.

It was the look. The look. It was the way Spike had looked at her. Maybe nothing could be quite equal to gaze of Spike...but Scott was in the ballpark all right, he was in the game.

To be looked at like that. It was a gift wasn’t it?

Dawn was lucky. And...and she knew it. She knew about accepting love when it came along. When you’re young...it is so tempting to think that this gold strike is just the beginning and there would be many, many more chances...but, that said--Buffy thought life gave you maybe...maybe four chances.

One for every season. And one best take care.

All these thoughts, these feelings flash carded her and were gone back undercover even as she answered Scott.

“Yeah, yeah...a walk sounds good--Dawn...as long as you’re shopping, do me a favor--check out this Book Store on St. James Street, near the park. This guy that owns it did me and Giles a favor, but he wouldn’t take a tip, you know and I think he’s hard up for cash--could you, like, buy a lot of books on the Hadrian Wall from him?”

Buffy pulled her wallet from the inside of her vest and gave over some very pretty pictures of Queen Liz to her sister.

“300 pounds?”

“Lose those pounds in America--not so much. ‘Sides he was a real help.”

“Yes, your highness...” Dawn bobbed her knee

“Not so high...” Muttered 5’3’ Buffy.

“You are to me, my sister, my sister, you are my high water mark...”

Scheech. Love and flowers and bowled over with sugarery bluster.

“Take off--your Mudder’s callin' ya...”

Poor Scott’s head was spinning. “A horse? A Mudder? Why is a horse calling you?”

Dawn whinnied and then shook her head and turned tail and while running said: “It’s mating season that’s why--“

Scott’s eyes popped and thank god his back was to Buffy cuz she really did not need to see what else might be popping.

And then they were gone.

She sat quietly while the sun warmed the world, just sat and fed off the rich green hills. Just gazed, grazed really.

Buffy sat on a low end of the stone wall, THE wall and man it was. Here it was and all stretched out from Wallsend to westward HO! Solid real evidence of what could happen when some King got an idea into his head.

‘Cuz I’m royal, that’s why.’

Buffy could just about hear the sharp edge of any debate dulled by that statement time and throughout time. Some crazy idea that might not stand heat of a democratic oven flew far and hard in the old world of: ‘cuz I said so.”

And didn’t she know all about that?

Often times were, she used her birthright as ‘The Slayer’ to work her will--without a spell or anything--but hadn’t that also obtained amazing results? Like this wall for instance. Never would have existed unless, one guy one Roman emperor didn’t like the breeze blowing down from the North. A solid wall that stretched for 78 miles all cuz the Romans thought the Barbarians could do with a bit of hygiene.

So dictators got things done, amazing ideas that never would have survived the discussion of committee and she knew that was the way of it in battle sometimes, most times of necessity--precious time lost in maybe left, maybe right, no sometimes it had to be ‘hark the clarion’ and now, or RIGHT NOW! But, as many wonder’s of the world that have been created that way--who could count the disasters?

And, all, all because the culture at hand agreed that a particular person was blessed by birth, whereas now, now post Apocalypse number seven, there was a whole generation of slayers, not blessed by birthright, but by an idea whose time had come.

Slayer power working through something Giles called the collective unconscious and was guided into girls, women, and females of all ages who contained in their particular makeup the common facility, the desire...to help.

Slayer energy flagged the women who simply...wanted to help other people...to help make the world...well...if not ‘better’ than...manageable. Easier.

She had discovered something about herself as the New Council watched and made note of who emerged and with what particular calling. As one could not help but notice the recurring theme, the common hearts desire natural to all of the women who stepped up--she couldn’t help but notice...that...she agreed.

That all those years as The Slayer of Sunnydale and now she remembered something Spike had pointed out to her one time--that she may not have wanted the job herself per se--but she certainly, most definitely wanted the job done.

Something else, they discovered...if the girl or woman could not reconcile herself to such a change that is, if she did not tap and actually use her power...it would fade from her. Simply over time, diminish into gone.

Who would have ever guessed that? But it made sense, much the same thing will happen to a talent unused, untested. And of course the pressure had always been on the Slayer before as a single entity--so no one ever would have ‘watched’ such a thing, simply because it never happened.

This was the part that Buffy liked best. It was females of all ages. Slayer energy reached out into grandmas even and that was the best, because it brought wisdom and scale and proportion and not a generation of Lord of the Flies kids out of control and world look out!

And not all Slayers were warriors, well the young ones were and at heart they all were, of course they were, that was the common natural facility but because of the age span, the Slayer energy also expressed itself in more mature forms, in different ways to defend society--namely, the healing arts was a big one.

Willow was very excited about that--said it was like how it was before the Inquisition had burned so many wise women in the Dark Ages, so many women of power had been lost in those years that ‘The Way’ had disappeared for centuries. And now the slayer power working through the older members of their club was finding expression in the true best power of the feminine expression. Love...

Love of fellow humans is what had kept Buffy at it all those years, love of love now awoke the old way, the wise ways...and the world was getting better...it was...household by household, teachers taught teachers and of course...The First was fighting back.

Well that was to be expected. But this next part wasn’t. The first was fighting back--and using men to do it. Ordinary men, Willow guessed that this was the same tact that The First might have used in the Dark Ages--during the witch burnings. Just Ordinary guys, not demons or beasts, just playing on the ordinary guy and a fear of change, loss of power, just fear...well...and she had to

be honest...fear based on a certain reality. Because the Slayers if not physically stronger than men, were certainly powerful in healing or ‘seeing’ and if a man thought his power lay in his body than, yeah...he would definitely be threatened.

Also...well tell the truth...not all women use this kind of power wisely. And why should the past be so different than the present. And so the bond between men and women was the new frontier and almost battleground...and they all needed to tread lightly and be circumspect. LETS NOT have history repeat itself.

O.K. the long and short of it was--not many Slayers had mates. Just simply couldn’t find them.

Of course there were some, of course there were, but the vast majority lived with love mostly as a...hope.

But they had community...and ahem...Xander was certainly popular. A man who loved strong women was well loved back by the Slayers and ensemble. And of course he had not abused his appeal, he was Xander the wise heart after all, and his presence gave hope to women that other men like him might exist, so it was good.

Where was she? Where was mind going?

Thinking.

Yes, thinking, walking was good for thinking and luckily Hadrian’s Wall had miles and miles of it.

She started walking as just this thing to do to give her body a repetitive activity that was similar to being in a meditative state. It was working, it stilled her mind, calmed her body and she could feel her inside flower...uh...flowering...

She started walking as a thing to do until it was time to go back and meet Dawn in Newcastle.

She had started walking as a walking thing and now she couldn’t stop.

At mile three and just past the third Milehouse she felt cougar’s foot pad on the wall to her left.

She was padding along the top of the wall saying nothing just keeping pace, just watching and waiting...

Mile four she pulled abreast and walked along side her Buffy just blonde by blonde and no dumb jokes to be heard.

Middle afternoon and mile six point two cougar was leading her Buffy, and Buffy was following and felt nothing, not the earth beneath her feet, or the sun heating her skin or the sweat of pre-vision detox--just the pull, the tug of her friend who wanted to take her...shopping...

The Mall The Maul

They were crossing through the next milehouse when something pulled Buffy’s attention to her right to see the entrance way guarded by two soldiers very much of the gladiator persuasion, all what’s his face that actor, you know looking like that all ...Roman--Russell Crowe! That’s it...that’s his name. and between them she could see a small family unit approach the gate, she saw a Father figure, the head of the family all Kirk Douglas and ‘I am Spartacus’ slave like clothes and the woman too, combo skins and dark brown home weave, they had three children in the wagon, and it seems they had to pay something, some toll but it wasn’t enough or the guards said it wasn’t and the Kirk said it was.

“Don’t like this Kitty, got a hee bee buzz...” Buffy spoke on the side to her spirit guide.

One of the kids started to cry which only brought the guards attention to it--it was a small girl crying and the Guard must have said something lewd cuz then Kirk saw red, but the Mother, she grabs him, and whispers prays into his back holding him begging him...slow...slow down...

Buffy stepped into the fray but Guard number One walked right through her--she wasn’t there, this was then, this was long gone and she was only watching from her place in the 21^st century.....

“Don’t wanna see this, Kitty...”

Kitty looked at her nonplussed as if she hadn’t a clue what human words were all about.

Buffy knew this kind of stuff happened--everyone knew just didn’t need to see one more bloody pointless battle...

Guard number Two had the woman on her hands and knees and looked like he was preparing to rape her--when he was distracted for a moment by the sight...of the family cat walking past with...with three little ducklings following the feline.

The sight was so, so completely incongruous; he halted and remained there on his knees staring.

Natural enemies brought together from mutual need and didn’t one hear stories about that all the time? A mother cat, a mother dog with litter lost but the need to succor so strong it adopted the odd orphans.

And in that moment of hesitation, the small girl with a heart of steel, daughter number two stole from the wagon, jumped the soldiers back and slid a knife into the back of his neck, severing his spine and collapsing him into the mud.

Kirk took the distraction to turn the tables on the man who had been guarding him--who had stepped forward at the manly gargle of pain and not the womanly scream of outrage--and Kirk had kicked him at the backs of his knees, breaking him to the ground, where with the assistance of his wife, subdued and then bashed him, pushed his head into a puddle and of all the ignominious ways for a Roman soldier to die thousands of miles from his home in the sun, to end here, in a muddy puddle in Northumberland.

Buffy stood helpless one hand clutching the other and was not happy. Not good. She had come here for vacation for healing, to see her sister, for help and possibilities not...never...this...

The little mother cat walked by, her tail held high, proud so proud of her brood and bringing them leading them away from the smell of bloodshed.

Cougar started to walk west along the top of the wall and Buffy followed puzzled and pissed.

What? So what? What was the point here? The destruction the complete and total misuse of authority and power and a family that would have been destroyed, blotted out completely by, by some...guys who thought they were better than everybody and so ’hey why not rule the world with it’ and would have, and would have...if not for the happenstance of a cat and her ducklings? All gone, an innocent family wiped out if not for the freakazoid of natural enemies in love--

--Buffy stopped.

Oh.

Well, you could have just said it--no need for the Technicolor and wouldn’t it have been a better lesson if the sight of the cat and her duckling inspired everybody into a big group hug, melee sans blood shed?

“That’s not how it happens Buffy...”

That voice came from over on the other side of the wall. Buffy looked and could see, just see the very top of a blonde head moving. Golden blonde hair so like her own.

“Mommy? Mom?”

“The world’s weather gets warmer or colder by degrees, it may heat up fast or cool down slow but it can only do it one degree at a time--“

She really wasn’t listening she wanted her Mom; she wanted the comfort of home...

The wall dipped many stones missing, stolen for the local peasant lodge and cougar moved further on ahead so Buffy could see more of the blonde head and--a different blonde head--

Her heart leapt, really, really just jumped up--

“SPIKE!”

He turned to look at her, his eyes glowing that Achilles melded with puppy look of a man completely in love and smiling bright. So happy to see her.

He didn’t say anything but gestured ahead as if there was in a break in the wall they could speak through, Buffy raced ahead, but couldn’t find it, couldn’t find it, and the wall just got higher, she stopped and thought: No. No, The Hadrian Wall isn’t really thirty feet tall, that’s only in my mind. I’m making it that high in my mind.

The wall between us is only that high...in my mind...

And with that she calmed herself and imagined herself knocking the bricks down, all the way down and it was fun too...crazy Roman empire try to keep the Barbarian’s out will you? Just try. And she knocked it all the way down until was knee high and easy to step over and when she did.

“Spike?” She called...couldn’t see him...where’d he go?

She heard cougar purring and turned to watch the big cat run ahead to a small group gathered by the Wall. They were dressed al la late eighties it, looked like, by the hair, the hair, she followed cougar who ran fairly panting into the arms of Princess Di.

Her stiff almost sad expression lit became light when Cougar threw herself into the arms of the princess.

“Well...that’s something you don’t see every day.” Buffy said it aloud and Princess Di smiled at her.

“Hello Buffy...” she said in her small sweet voice. Buffy looked over her shoulder as if expecting to see another Buffy--unlikely to find another with a name, with that same touch of elegant class even though this was England and all about the class conscience.

Princess Di was feeding Cougar small chunks of cheese she had hidden in her little sky blue pill box hat. Cougar munched happily and purred her pleasure.

“Piece of cheese?”

Buffy shrugged and nodded and Diana tossed a piece in the air Buffy caught it in her mouth with ease.

Diana laughed, “Don’t try that trick at home, kids--I mean that literally. Just don’t dare to try anything like that at Buckingham Palace.”

“But you’re the princess--you can watch anything you want to on television...err...” Buffy translated to Englander “On the telly...you can do anything you want--“

“I can’t marry the man I love. He didn’t love me before we were married and as I found out later...he wouldn’t even allow himself to...try...” Was Diana’s sad reply.

“No wait--you busted that myth--you got divorced--uh oh...has that happened yet? Did I tell you something that hasn’t happened yet?“

“I can divorce him? No I can’t...can...I?”

“Yeah...but why would you want to--you’re the royal couple, all destined and look at us!”

Diana took Buffy’s hands

“Marrying a prince didn’t make me a princess...”

“But you’re royal...a Lady or something...royals marry each other...”

“And him being royal didn’t make him a...prince...”

Buffy watched as Diana thought about it...used her life experience of this plus that to sum:

“Love makes the frog a prince doesn’t it? That much of the fairy tale is true...”

Buffy nodded slowly as Di continued slowly:

“--And love is last on the list for royals and that’s why the upper crust children grow up so cold--never touched, no one wants to touch the child that doesn’t come from love. But not me, I’ll have my own little revolution and love my children and I’ll tell them they can be anything they want to be...I’ll tell them you’re not a slave, you belong to yourself...you make your own destiny...and...and...me too...I’ll get divorced...I will...thank you Buffy---why can’t I? Why can’t I be free to be with someone who loves me and I will too I’ll find someone and I won’t care if he’s a toad from a bar stool or...or... a lorry driver...”

Buffy laughed at the thought...”You’re funny...”

Buffy roared back to the surface like breaking the top of water for a breath.

It was gone.

Princess Di, cheese, kitty friend, maybe Mom, maybe Spike, all...gone.

She was standing on top of the Hadrian Wall facing the West; the sun was low in the sky turning everything gold. The Midas touch of the golden hour.

Gradually her breath evened out and her body unclenched. She sat down on the edge of the wall, letting her legs dangle over the side while she thought. She inclined her body toward the failing light, skin damp with sweat grasping at the slim heat that was offered before the end of the day. Of Di

Princess Di

And suddenly she saw it. The moniker so often repeated in the news, double meanings and puns not relevant until after the event.

Like some Quadrant of Nostradamous it didn’t make sense till after.

Princess Di. Well there it was...Di for die, for death of course meaning hers, but also for it, for IT. For the institution--for incarcerated royalty, for destiny, for being chosen, for being a ‘princess’

She broke the chain, the yoke of brood mare to Royals. Of chosen girl used and free will gone--she said...no

She said: Princess die.

And she did it for love--she did it because she didn’t want her children to grow up like their Father. To accept the contracts of those who hold themselves separate, elite, destined, and...better by birthright. The government gives them a fortune just for propagating--what was up with that and thank you George Washington et all for busting us loose from THAT.

She could almost hear Di tell them, her children; ‘you do what you want to do’...to imprint on them this: marry for love, for love builds the home, the home builds the country and your best gift, the best service you can be to your country, to your world is to act from love...

Princess Di

Buffy found a heroine.

And was also a little hungry for some cheese.

Open Mike Closed Heart

It was a designer nightmare; oh no this couldn’t be the unhappy accident of Dadism in action--no, something like this particular disaster could only be designed. Some one with a big budget, no taste...and...and brimming with ‘a vision’ no less. It was conceptual: Kick the Spike. (of course) Not earlier this week, not that...but this, THIS, this was the prize inside and he sighed.

You’d think, you’d think just old fashioned wear and tear would dull the wound down to numb. You’d think.

Thank god, thank god, he’d asked Ellie to come and host for him this evening. It was usually something he loved to do, throwing a comment in here and there supporting the performers, with a nod to the talent for trying...

But he hadn’t felt up to being under the spotlight himself and Ellie was free and fun and always the sassy big boned great hulk of a German lass took no prisoners and this lot loved her for it.

Sass was fine, she could provoke the audience as they sat and watched to her muse’s (Spike suspected it was Lenny Bruce) content all she wanted--but never right before, during or after a performance. Big Time House rule. And she agreed. Hadn’t she felt the whip almost all her life from the girls at school about her size?

She used to stoop but then stopped and now strutted her height, her size and built it all like a brick house to be envied. And because she loved herself this way, men loved her this way. Well, not all men, but you get the idea.

And Willem? Well she made him laugh, and she considered and ran tally on how many times she could score a laugh from him. It was a thing.

The blonde brick house--would that make her adobe? Anyway she was in great shape tonight and it should have helped, it should have helped--even his odd feelings out in the old way; in the wild fest of verbal jabs he so enjoyed when she turned her attention to the laughing joyous group, the clique squatting, sprawled on the wrap around couch, coffee and drinks on nearby tables and chairs.

The Scoobies.

Incredible.

Simply incredible.

All there, all well met except, the boy, Xander, but hey! The night was young.

There was an annex to the Book Store, a duplex really, that Willem kept closed except for Fridays, and Saturdays and rented out for special occasions. It had the eclectic sprawl that reflected the long history of Northumberland itself. Celtic symbols, (wards of course) thick wooden tables, sturdy furniture replete with soft, velvet cushions and coverings. The contradiction of texture was appealing to the senses.

It promoted a feeling of ease and goodwill but stimulating, and sensual...all round...folks loved to come and stayed all night--sometimes he had to kick them out the door. But he liked it. He loved it--it was the highlight of his week, his life.

He loved to hear the writers, both the ones he knew, and the new ones as well. Poetry and short prose 500 word max...there was an art and arc to the short work and he had borne witness to many a writer becoming much better under the influence of each others passion and support.

And the singers. Folk, some rock too--he had a small amp set up for the quick plug in. But acoustic usually went over better in the space, for some reason. Celtic thing probably wood wind and strings

There was a fireplace built into the stone wall and the Scoobies had arrived early enough to stake their claim--and the regulars good naturedly nodded to the newbie’s.

Hmm...fresh blood...

Willem shook his head.

Absolutely unfuckingbelievable.

He had a staff to run drinks and Anthony was tending bar so he could stay way back, well out of all of it.

He had told Ellie that he hadn’t been feeling well, and she had made the general announcement at the beginning of the evening to explain his diminished presence...there had been an ‘aw...’ but Ellie had quickly sniped:

“Dental work, dental work, you keep those jaws hangin’ and you’ll be feelin’ the business end of my number 2 pencil and nobody tell me Barbie Dolls can’t feel my favorite adolescent dream house afire and I’m no dentist if it doesn’t hurt--am I then?”

And she was off and in her run on sentence style and accidental English entertaining all and confusion? Who cared? Life was crazy, but maybe sometimes, sometimes it should sound, like what it was.

“Speaking of Barbie Doll’s check this un’ out here, gold hair and shampoo shine but no shame in that, no shame and don’t let anybody tell you different. You’re lovely doll--was’ you’re name an al?”

It was Buffy of course and she bit her lip--

Ellie at the mike went on.

“Can’t say?”

“In honor of all women throughout the world and time spent at the pottery wheel, or basket weave and the unsung beauty of the unsigned artifact--I choose to remain anonymous.”

Ellie’s eyes popped open and the crowd (fifty people maybe) roared their approval.

“Well I thought I’d had a play toy for at least ten minutes but I’m bested, I am...and I’ll admit it--and is that your H-O-T-T American beau?”

It was Angel.

It was enough, Willem left the room. He crossed through the double doors and climbed the stairs in the connecting hallway to his flat over the cafe.

Once inside his rooms, he relaxed a bit, felt safer, didn’t know, didn’t need to know why they were all here...but here they were, all and all...even...even the Nibblet and he was not going to melt down about it either.

Buffy looked to be in rare form--shining, happy and that’s all that mattered--she was happy wasn’t she?--didn’t need to hear act II.

He stretched out on the overstuffed couch and waited for it all...to just...go away.

He could feel the evening work forward from where he lay. Could hear the vibrations of laughter coming up through the floor boards, merry, merry up from the club below...intercut with the super stillness of fine poetry and the thrum of guitar; oh someone was playing--he loved it when someone sang and suddenly he felt cheated.

That lot, coming HERE, into his world like some small band of Spanish conquistadors bringing the Aztecs low because, because they were afraid...all lost for fear...and lack of information and do it, do it--fight back. Fire stick or no--you only die once.

Well...uh...sometimes twice but who’s counting? Third times the charm.

Willem got up from the couch and moved into the hall--maybe, maybe he would just listen from out here--from the top of the stairs.

It was the steady driving thrum, thrum, thrum, that sat under the song that drew him down the stairs and the recognition of

someone, a man doing justice to an old John Lennon tune. Circa Plastic Ono.

The singer did justice big time to Lennon’s relentless repetitive beat but imbued it with something from himself as well. Something that connected singer to song, and song to throng.

It felt real.

“Remember when you were young?

How the hero was never hung

Always got away...

Always...

If you ever feel so sad

And the whole world is driving you mad

Remember, remember today

And don’t feel sorry

‘Bout the way it’s gone

And don’t you worry

‘Bout what you’ve done

No, no remember, remember...”

Always...always...

Silence.

Applause.

It was Giles, of course it was. That could only have been sung like that by a mature man almost broken by the cares of the world on his shoulders and not some small amount of guilt as well...

“Giles, good for you,” murmured Spike. “Thanks; needed that, mate.”

Willem moved back into the room and stood by the bar looking over the crowd, Anthony crossed to his boss and asked

‘Feelin’ better?”

“I am an’ all.”

Anthony smirked a little as he wiped down the surface of the bar.

“Thas’ good, cuz...some bird, that lot...”and here he gestured his head toward where the Scoobies lay sprawled.

“--Been asking after you--pretty little bint with a mouth I must say, with respectable sass, come by twice.”

Willem raised his brow.

And in answer Anthony said nothing but raised two fingers turning the simple small number into the ‘V’ for victory sign.

Willem sighed. “Not what you suppose, Anthony--she’s all business that one.”

“Never know, never know what’s in a bird’s brain.”

“You’re the one who’s Bird brained...”

“Only saying...” Anthony offered “Oi now, you’ve got it--she’s spotted you--“

Spikes heart lurched.

Her eyes met his across the room and there was an appeal, a please come hither and what could he do but her bidding?

Like a ring a round the rosy the conversation slowed and came to stop as he drew near.

Huh...maybe this could be fun and why not get a bit of his own back?

And just as all eyes were tuned to him expectantly, Giles made his way through admirers all fanning him, to stand next to Willem and greeted him like an old friend...and indeed, their single evening and exchange of ideas had been so remarkable and if that didn’t make a friend what would?

Willem had to admit he was more than a little warmed by the reception.

He deliberately kept his eyes away from her; he remained oblivious to their curious stares just as any stranger would be.

“Wonderful performance, Old man...You actually pulled me downstairs to give you a listen....”

“Just a social service...”

“Oi aye, that puts us lot on the dole then?”

“Join the Magpies...”

“Ooooh...don’t let this lot hear you douse Newcastle United, you’ll find yourself out on your ear...”

Giles laughed and Willem asked the group in general--“You lot taken care--have everything you need?”

All murmured their assent, yes, yes everything was fine, wonderful even--they were having a great time.

Xander wanted to know who the blonde stock car driver cum lately MC was and did she have a sister?

(So Xander was here too--when had he arrived? Looks like they were going to do it, the ritual--get serious)

“You hoping for a thin blooded version? Sorry Mate, mold broken not even quite sure she’s human--“

“--Oh that is so Xander’s type...”

(It was his Nibblet, all shiny and grown and so, so beautiful)

She responded to his smile of greeting with a wide one of her own and said without preamble.

“Your store was closed for the past two days. You can’t close a store for two days.”

“Well you can you know, just can’t hope to stay in business...”

“I saw the poster for the open mike in the window and thought if I dragged Giles here, might get a look at those books--“

“Be open tomorrow, if I’m not around Anthony can help you--“

“--You O.K.?” It was her. “Her, your MC said you were sick...”

Her concern seemed genuine.

“Bit under the weather, tis nothing...”

“Oh I’m sorry...” said Giles, turning to introduce him to the group. “This is Willem--“

“Hello William.” said Angel. His voice was low almost intimate.

“Ah...It’s Willem...” Willem corrected, nodding blankly, politely

“Is it?” Angel asked innocently.

And he did it so well, he was a master of words after all, and his inflection, the potential challenge was so subtle, one could scarcely be sure it was there at all.

Buffy heard it of course and Spike heard it but he was on the other side of his grave and so Willem remained calm, heart even--he had changed so much in the past nine years he knew Angel would never be able to pick up William the Bloody’s energy pattern because...it simply did not exist.

He watched Angel watch him, and other than display the ordinary call to territory that one male may mark to another, Angel saw nothing to confirm any suspicion he may have had and finally shook his head a bit and looked away.

“Won’t...won’t you join us?” Buffy asked hopefully a little over bright to cover her companion’s bad manners.

“No...no...just heard you were asking after--“

“Oh for heavens sake...” Spouted Willow suddenly, “I’ll just say it. You look a little bit like someone we used to know hence the freaky...”

“Thank you really, but I just came down to make the rounds, haven’t the stomach really for sustained conversation.”

Oh that was different. Everyone understood pukeiness. Ew.

“Ta for coming, looks like a party of sorts and please feel free to keep it going until Anthony throws you out.”

He was moving away when Buffy’s voice stopped him. She had left her seat and was now at his back touching his elbow to turn him around--

--an electric shock ran through both their bodies fusing her fingers in place for an overlong moment just as electricity might--

This was what he had been afraid of earlier this week, why he hadn’t wanted her to touch him--try as she might to deny there was anything between them--the evidence of their bodies in close proximity always had this effect.

The warmth in each others nature called out to the other. It was not a thing of the mind, something you could think away, it was chemistry and a thing of the spirit...they reacted against each other with or without words like ‘I love you.’

Words didn’t make something like this happen; words described when something like this happened.

She seemed startled, afraid, the shock reached deep into her womb and she waited but he pulled his arm away from her fingers and she dropped her hand, embarrassed.

It hadn’t been long, maybe nobody noticed.

Nobody, meaning Angel.

“I uh...Willow was wondering if you would help us perform the ceremony? Giles seems to think you have power, that you are some kind of base line--and we need two men and two women for the four points but they all have to fit together, and they have a soprano, and a tenor, contralto and you would make base--and so...”

“So you need my help again is that it? Thas’ why you’ve come back...”

His tone was challenging and her heart grew strangely fearful as the warm light in his eyes dimmed down to cool so cold and almost hard, definitely hard to know.

“No...I mean, I thought if maybe you met him--“

“--I did just meet him then haven’t I? And I don’t like him; I don’t like him at all and certainly not enough to risk my spiritual neck for...that...”and here he jerked his head toward where Angel sat.

Of course everyone at the table was still; of course everyone heard the whole thing.

Well good. Don’t have to repeat myself then.

And with that Willem turned his back and walked away.

It felt good.

Angel felt bad.

He had just arrived via Newcastle International, just hours before really on a night flight from La Guardia, something had happened that could change everything and he really had to talk to Buffy about it in person, in private and it may only table their plans...and it was important, but she had been so happy to see him, they had all whisked him off for a get together reunion and hey the old gangs back together drink and why not hear Giles sing too? And ...he was a little pissed that she hadn’t picked up his vibe...his sense of urgency and...

It was his fault; he knew it was his fault. It’s just he had had a terrible moment when he had heard Buffy’s heart speed up and he had looked up to see someone who resembled Spike, really only vaguely, more like an attitude resemblance than a physical one really, but the sound of Buffy’s heart and blood sent racing at the sight of someone who just looked like Spike...well... it had gotten is growlies going...couldn’t help it, it was an old territory issue and now they would have to find someone else.

“Maybe If I just give him a day or two...” Buffy suggested

“Let him be...”

It was Xander and his voice was low and calm

“He’s got issues Buff, anybody can see that--maybe he’s lost his people to vampires...he’s gotta have his reasons...let him be...”

Good wise advise.

And she would take it, she would--but still there was something about Willem, something that made her want to take him and shake and make it all o.k. too; throttle him enough to make him see sense and at the same time, make all the pain go away...

It was all mixed in together, but yeah she would let him go.

No, she wouldn’t. She went to his store the next day.

Old Friends The Book Ends

O.K. her hands were sweaty, she didn’t know why she was doing this--why was she doing this? Anybody want to take a stab-- you there...reader out there--yeah that’s right I mean you reading this right now--any ideas on what I’m doing here? This was the moment for audience participation because I’m running on empty.

Buffy thought all this and why not just buy a book? Just say she was an avid reader and stopped by to buy and why not a book? Books have all these ideas, plans and proposals stuffed into them, no, no, that wasn’t her, she wasn’t about the planning...no she would just open her mouth and see what popped.

It was just past 10:30, just a little after the store was open for business, she had thought this part out at least...the day would be fresh, so maybe he wouldn’t be too tired to listen and...and maybe as this was Saturday there wouldn’t be any customers yet so they could talk...she could apologize and explain a little...and...she opened the door...

To see Dawn jumping up and down in an excited little jig.

And there was Scott of course, he was there too sitting on the arm of the nearest easy chair eyes helplessly fixed on Dawns, giggling bosom.

And Willem

Willem looking at Scott with a puzzled expression, staring at his gormless behavior and then as if he couldn’t really believe his eyes he pulled his glasses from his breast pocket and slipped them on just to be sure...before he killed him--

No, really, she watched Willem go all predatory, like that vibe she had picked up when they first met and this could be bad and poor Scott was clueless.

Now she had heard the British make disparaging remarks about barbarians--which meant really anyone un-Brit. But fisticuffs wasn’t really the best method in schooling someone like Scott, first cuz...well...she thought his head was just too thick for the infamous single blow of enlightenment. You know that thing Japanese spiritual masters did when one of their students, just didn’t get it.

And much as she herself would love to deliver the shock a boo boo--Dawn may not understand the subtly of ancient and respected traditions of higher education.

‘Willem!” She said as greeting and preventative measure.

He stopped and looked at her in amazement, like he was suddenly caught between two very desirable targets, a poor puppy caught between mistress’s new leather glove...ooh new chew toy and...and a liv a snap.

It only took a second for him to see that neither option was opportune and instead he turned to Dawn.

“So, you’re happy then--you found what you needed?”

Dawn was turning pages, and moaning...”Oh man...oh man...OooH! OooH!

And then she was jumping and jigging again. Scott’s jaw hung open.

Willem looked up at the ceiling and Buffy could just about hear him counting

One, two, three, four, five,

“Whatcha got there Dawny?” She asked and came to look over her shoulder stepping in front of her to obscure the jig from Scott, hoping this strategy gave him a moment to compose himself.

“Well this one’s a diary from the middle 1800’s not old at all in scope with the wall--just somebody local who kept track of stories, you know, legends...ghost stories...”

“--just as long as they stay stories...” Buffy murmured

“No...they’re going to...” and here Dawn’s voice got all soft and playfully ominous, “...LEAP off the page at GET you...”

“Please. Been there.”

Willem had been at the fireplace getting the fire going for the day when those last words caught his attention.

“Really?” He searched his memory, couldn’t remember any such thing happening. But life had gone on without Spike. MANY Spikeless adventures.

“It was about...oh five years ago, remember Dawny--“Dawn nudged her with her elbow and Buffy’s mouth snapped shut.

(And Spike thought, Oh Dawn you really have to teach me that one. No, Willem thought, I love how Buffy speaks her mind. Yeah. Sighed Spike. Me too. Forthright. )

“What happened five years ago?” Scott asked in his best Highlander

Dawn sighed, and in that sigh she said this: ‘isn’t everything about him just...well...wonderful!’

Willem threw a log on the fire and suggested, “There is at least an entire bookcase back there on Hadrian’s Wall--what you have there is just what I keep in the safe--“

“--This is valuable?” Dawns face fell. “How expensive?”

“We’ll work it out, I also barter...but perhaps your...” and here he looked at Scott trying to find a word, any word to fit through his mouth in way that wouldn’t choke him.

“Your...friend could help you. The best books are on the top two shelves...he’s such a great looming git, he’ll be able to reach them for you, and won’t need to bother the ladder.”

“Ta mate,” Scott beamed, just simply beamed at Willem and leapt up to lead the way back to the stacks.

Willem stopped. William’s poor heart smiled and said ‘see that?’ Scott never even heard the insult--all he heard was how he could be of assistance to his love.

Well all right then, maybe, maybe Dawn had chosen wisely and hadn’t lost all sense after all.

Buffy was watching him.

He poked the fire and adjusted the grid for sparks checked the area for fire hazards and said low, barely audible.

“So he doesn’t know. Dawn hasn’t told him anything about you.”

“Me?” Buffy asked all innocence.

“That you’re the Slayer.”

“I never said I was the Slayer, no one ever said I was the Slayer.”

Willem just stared at her until she shrugged. “O.K. not hard to figure out. Does that scare you--are you scared?”

Willem looked at her as he walked by to set up the tea and put out cookies, there was a smile struggling to loose itself in him and what was she on about?

“What are you on about?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Well...” she continued. “Some men are you know, threatened by a woman that’s stronger than him...”

Suddenly, just suddenly he had enough.

Fine. Fine.

Kismet might have sent her the first time, but not the second or the third and bloody hell he was just quite suddenly done with running. He wanted her, he always had, always would--this thing between them wasn’t his problem it had always been hers...so he stopped fighting and fell.

He turned to face her with a package of oatmeal raison cookies in his hand and looked into her eyes and spoke the truth.

“Who said you were stronger that me?”

Quiet.

His words went through her ears but once inside her head they did a slow soft dive to deep sweet female places. Her womb was tightening and extending. The female version of a hard on.

“I could take you no problem.” She said, but it came out sounding more like a plea.

Instead of a retort he reached into the bag and pulled out a big plump cookie and held it out to her in his hand.

“Take a biscuit instead...” he suggested gently and it sounded like a dare and it was.

It was a good looking cookie and she decided that she wanted it. Buffy reached forward and as she took it, her fingers brushed his and it happened again that jolt of electric connection that wanted so badly to fuse and interlock their sex bits until they couldn’t see straight and all the life force needing this expression was in that touch and his thumb moved gently over her forefinger.

His touch was light, she could withdraw but...couldn’t...he...he was stronger...his need for her was the compelling strength of nature itself; the need to mate and her body’s response was already slicking the way inside her, she could feel her knees buckling as her body prepared, wanted to submit, to fall down on the ground, knees buckling up so she could present herself.

He groaned and caught her before she hit the floor. She was vaguely aware of being carried and placed gently in an easy chair; he knelt on the floor between her knees, and stroked her face...

“Ah Buffy, love...I’m so sorry...how long has it been since a man loved you? Poor lamb...”

She looked at him through glazed eyes but said nothing.

And then touching her face wasn’t enough, he leaned in to kiss the side of her temple...small warm flood she leaned her face toward the source of the heat.

He pressed his cheek against hers while his hand, his right hand found her left breast and his thumb grazed the tip of her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, her body arched up to meet his touch, she sunk down in the chair to arch her pelvis up.

“Oh god Buffy, stop, stop luv...I’m not that strong, you undo me...”

And then he was kissing her neck fastening his teeth onto the side of her neck and sucking her flesh up into his mouth.

She whimpered and pushed her groin up close wordlessly begging...

Her hands went into his shirt, finding his flesh and then downward looking feeling for a zipper...

He kissed up her neck and found the small dip behind her ear that made her--

“Spike...” she gasped out as her body jackknifed in orgasm.

She arched against him as her body buckled.

Willem stopped. Spike was gone. It was like a splash of cold water.

Gently he pulled away; he took her searching hand and guided it gently back to her chest. He kissed the side of her face and

stayed close breathing with her until her breath evened and she calmed down.

She looked into his brown eyes, brown not blue and then looked down, Willem stroked the side of her arm once more and then leaned back and sat in the easy chair adjacent to where she sat.

They were quiet for a moment and then he asked sadly.

“Look so much like him, do I then?”

She wouldn’t look at him. How had this happened? Oh yeah, the cookie...but...but had baited him...she had...she had put the bait on the hook...why? And he deserved an answer.

“No...no not really...I mean you do in the English inbred everyone looks alike in a sallow way...”

Here he cleared his throat.

“But...that’s only because there is no sun...”

“You’re avoiding.”

She was. “You don’t look like him...you...feel like him. Can’t explain it.”

“Try.”

She looked at him. And he helped her out by asking;

“Is he dead? Gone? Cuz he’d have to be dead to not be with someone like you.”

“Yeah...he’s gone.” She looked inside herself to see what to say. “Funny thing is...I...didn’t know how much I’ve missed him till a few months ago...I just blotted him out, just didn’t talk about him or think about him really...”

“Didn’t grieve him?”

“No.”

Willem looked away into the fire and blinked until his eyes were clear.

“Not in the way you’d think. To grieve, I’d have to acknowledge feeling something, and I was so used to pushing my feelings away, I just...it went underground...like a low grade fever.”

He didn’t look at her but he was listening.

“It was like I was in a low grade fever that only broke at night when I was asleep and I would wake up in the morning with...water

all over me, sweat, tears streaming down my cheeks...and I wouldn’t remember anything from dreams or anything and I would think, really...I was so dense...I’d think...what’s the matter with me? You know?”

Willem nodded, he could completely see Buffy having to compartmentalize to the degree she didn’t know what was coming from where.

“You’re the slayer. You have a lot to deal with, could have just been pressure, relieving the pressure...so you wouldn’t implode or something.”

Buffy nodded. “That’s what I thought...I began to think of it as my morning dew; just this morning water thing from nature. No biggie.”

“You’re alright Buffy. You’re a good woman. You’re subconscious took over, took care of you. It’s all right.”

She didn’t know why, but somehow it sounded like: “I forgive you.”

She accepted it.

“And now you have someone, this vampire--“

“Angel.”

“Right.”

She laughed. “It’s funny, Spike didn’t like Angel either.”

Willem said nothing but his expression said right sensible bloke your Spike.

“Uh...sorry...I threw myself at you.” Buffy murmured, “I guess it’s been awhile...”

Oh she was going to rationalize was she? Well all right. Her life was hard who was he to say her this way or that--this was something she had to know from the inside of herself and words, an engraved message from the mind meant nothing.

“You’re so lovely Buffy, inside and out, any bloke would have to count himself on god’s short list to be your mate. Hope this...blighter realizes it.”

Buffy looked sad for a moment.

“There is no one else in the world for me right now, and it’s not really like we’re together...really...Angel and I have known each other a long time and how we love each other is from a long time ago...he’s like the person you hold in the back of your mind from high school...you know, the one you might want if no one else came along...”

“But...Oi, I do hear a bit of a big ‘BUT’” Willem encouraged her.

“Buuutt...because it’s from long ago...I think...I feel he still holds me in his heart like a young girl...he...oh my god why am I telling you this?”

“Sorry chit, we’ve just past the ‘just good friends’ parenthetical--spill, dish it...” Willem leaned in and the restored gleam in his eye brought a smile to her lips.

“Well...when Angel found out about Spike, he well...it wasn’t so much that he wanted to kill Spike, of course he did--that was understandable...it was how his opinion...changed...shifted about...me. That is; when he heard the whole story--he said a couple things like: ‘How could you’ with that ‘thing’...couple of things like that--and then he dropped it--but I don’t think he’s ever seen me the same. I...think...deep down I think he could never imagine me...”

“--What, brought to orgasm from a couple of kisses? Have sex in a public place with someone you barely know after wrestling over a cookie?”

“Uh...” She had to smile but went on following her thought: “Maybe...that...but I don’t think he could ever imagine me making up my own mind. Oh he knows I’m a fighter and I do that all the time...but I think there is a part of him that denies that I could choose to be with Spike...and not...apologize for it.”

He looked down to hide his eyes from her and said nothing, if he started, there would be no stopping and so instead he asked:

“You care for a cuppa?”

“You bloody English and your home remedies.” Buffy leaned back in the chair.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” As he prepared her tea from hot water from the hot plate, he asked, tried to sound casual.

“So, you all are going to do it. You really gonna use the Seal of Ohm and what? What option?”

Buffy turned in her chair to watch him.

“Angel made the call. He wants the divorce...but...but when Angelus is freed he wants Willow, that’s one of my good friends you met last night, he wants her to bind him--“

“And kill him? Put blood on her hands?--”

“No. He’ll do it. Angel--Liam, he will kill Angelus.”

Willem sighed and brought her a mug of tea; she saw him think twice about handing it directly to her and instead placed it on the table in front of her.

“Not so easy killing a demon in its true form.”

They sipped their tea. Willem asked.

“And what about Angelus--what’s he say? Angel must be able to communicate something from him and don’t think that old demon isn’t listening in an’ knows your plans.”

“He thinks...it thinks it can win. That Liam won’t be able to kill it--or it’ll escape somehow and even if it is killed--it will go back to hell which is like home to it. Better than being behind bars. It wants a fight, a chance. Justice.”

“An’ everybody is on board with this? They all understand?”

“Giles has reservations--something about ‘the devil you know’--“

Willem snorted in agreement.

“--But, yeah. We’ve all known Angel for many years so it’s like family...and it seems right.”

“And you need a mate.” Willem ventured softly. “Oh it’s all right to know what you need--say that was a step forward for you, right? I mean after what you’ve told me.”

“Yeah...but it’s not that, really. O.K. to be honest...it is...but only around the edges. I went on a walkabout a few days ago, and something came to me...Willem...maybe I’ve been so long in the defensive position I’ve never considered to be the offense. And what if the offense is love? Just love, put more love in the world. And doing this, isn’t even for me or for Angel, but for love’s sake, it has to do with some of things you said days ago, why not just do it because...

“It’s justice?” Willem offered.

“Maybe. Maybe. To be honest, I’m not smart enough to know, but I trust my feelings...”

“Do you?” He looked at her directly.

“I’m learning to trust my feelings.” She rewrote.

“Fair enough.”

“So. Will...would you reconsider helping us? Willow and Midge are in and both extremely powerful. Giles is tenor--

“--Good singer--“

“--You know what I mean. And after meeting you last night Willow agrees with Giles--she thinks you got the right stuff to ground everybody while they go flying. But...but you would have to take your charm off. I guess you guys all wear protection amulets and they would have to go--you need to stand naked or something before god--metaphorically speaking...no full frontal nudity required....”

And here her voice wound down to a sputter as she watched him lean forward, elbows on his knees, head between his hands.

She waited, it didn’t take long.

“I can’t Buffy. Just...can’t”

“Why?” She asked simply

“I...think its wrong...like putting a gun to heavens head--you would be appealing for justice--which by rights and cosmic law will have to be granted--but then use the trust placed in you, to use the privilege as an opportunity to betray the demon; to kill it, and not on the battlefield...but...but in a court of law. Do you see? Maybe...maybe if it was about saving the world--“

“--But don’t you see? This is about saving the world--in the best possible way, one person at a time--“

“--Bloody hell Buffy! I know you need it, I REALLY do, but do you need to get laid so bad that you would break--“

--she dropped her tea mug and her hand shot out and slapped him so hard his head snapped back.

She was instantly sorry but she wasn’t. She hadn’t hit him as the Slayer, if she had, his head would be off his body--did he know

that?

“I didn’t hit you as the Slayer; I slapped you as a woman.” She said coldly as she got up gathered her things and walked past him to leave, and as she passed his chair, she heard the crunch of glass under her shoe and stopped and sighed.

Great. His glasses must have been knocked off sometime during their little...make out session. Now she had to apologize.

She fished in coat jacket for her wallet pulled out some pretty pictured paper--what was enough? She put the money on the counter and said simply.

“Sorry about your glasses.”

And left before he could see her start to cry.

Anthony saw it though as she brushed past him. He came into the store scratching his spiked black hair.

“Lad, was’ happened here then?” He nodded back at the girl running away now. “That looks like a hanging job.”

“That...sounds just about right...”

Spike put the back of his hand against his eyes and pinched them shut to keep the tears inside. Why pretend? He was Spike alright. Still Spike, still alive...still evil...

Spike rose and without another word left by way of the interior door leaving the store in Anthony’s hands.

In Which the Beans are Spilled in Spilsby

It was a lovely place, a cottage really, just like the paintings found in every gallery in every summer vacation spot in America,

white, stark sharp white almost blinding white sideboard and lattice work overgrown with roses and petunias. Red and white and pink roses (so close to each other and let’s cross pollinate like crazy and who cares if it’s out of control cuz it’s an English Garden and: its roses!)

It’s was just, just like the places Willow and Tara had always mooned over. Gathering postcards and lithographs and discussing variations--like, was the garden to the left or to the right? Sweet peas were so cute--but would we actually eat them?

And of course cats. And not just because they were portable bits of heaven incarnate and man, the ancient Egyptians really, really got that one right, not just for the pillow factor but...because of the natural affinity for psychic protection.

So all the members of the coven had brought their cats, plus Willow had liberated volunteer kitties from the local shelter to come offer their services and sure, sure they could stay after it was done. Because to do this right, meant, no charms, no protection spells it was all about GO ORGANIC!

Home grown good will and...kitty cats.

She had cleared all the furniture out of the living room and had drawn the Seal of Ohm on the floor three days ago to give it time to breathe and clean the house and surrounding area. And man, it drew the birds. She had to worry about that. That all those pretty birdies would tempt the cats. But so far so good. There seemed to be a truce and truly it wasn’t hard to figure.

Just being around the seal, even less the critical element to make it 100% was enough to calm her, to ease her and thoughts of Tara were not only endurable but welcome. And several times, she almost...almost felt her hand slip into hers and say:

‘I’m fine, I’m alright...just waiting...but it’s alright...’

She didn’t say what she was waiting for and Willow didn’t ask but it felt right. She sighed.

“You see the house Tara? Isn’t it perfect?”

But she wasn’t there and for some reason the two cats Bandersnatch and Boris thought her words...well, any words really meant

‘food’

And they meowed at her. Like anytime she said anything, it meant ‘food’

“O.K. you guys, you’ve been so good in staying off the seal--I’ll feed you the fancy feast--how about that? But on the porch--outside guys.”

She ushered them out--for some reason most of the five cats stayed outside, except these two. She’d have to remember that--might be important.

Cats fed, hot water ready for tea, place clean it was time to get together with the top brass and see what happens next.

Buffy and Xander arrived first. Angel had kicked up a small fuss about being excluded from the battle plan--the strategy session until Giles and pointed out to him, that whatever he, Angel heard, knew, Angelus would know as well.

And it may not do to give Angelus a working knowledge of how and who was going to be involved--even though Angelus appeared to want the divorce to work--he certainly would not be above trying to manipulate power and intention.

And then of course Angel quickly agreed, no one understood better than himself what Angelus was capable of.

And...it was kinda nice...just being ‘we three’ for a bit, for a little while. Their old dynamic and dynamo that they were, hey--are.

Buffy seemed a little quiet and intense...but who wouldn’t be under similar situation. They were sitting, chatting on the front porch lap kitty for all, except Xander who had two.

“Just can’t keep these felines from spotting a good thing--“Xander mused

“More like spotting a soft spot.” Willow replied dryly.

Xander looked down at the two cats curled together on his lap and wondered.

“Was that an aspiration to the present condition of my manly virility?”

“Only you would see it that way.” Buffy said as she stroked the grey tabby sprawled the length of her legs as she sat on the floor of the porch.”

“Ah...yellow...yellow good...” Willow pointed to the small economy car pulling up the short drive.

Giles got out of the passenger side and a woman, looking almost shockingly suburban got out of the drivers side.

She wore sky blue sweat pants and loose fitting sleeveless cotton shirt. The day had turned warm and so she was jacket less.

She was in her late fifties perhaps, but in excellent physical condition and totally belonged on the golf course or organizing the local church’s white elephant bazaar.

It was Midge the undisputed reigning champion White Wiccan of the western world.

Huh.

She ran her manicured hand through her short brown helmet hair and waited as Giles pulled some bags from the car and then they moved forward together--she shyly approached the front porch.

“Hello Midge!” Willow called out.

“Hallo yourself and please don’t get up--“

“Don’t think we could, sorta pinned down by little furry sumo wrestlers.” Xander observed.

“Ah yes...” Midge said looking over the assembly. “Oooh you’re all lovely...just lovely...” she deep crooned spoke.

Buffy could feel the cat on her lap respond to Midge’s voice, she watched his ears rotate toward the source of the croon speak.

“Oh lets have a look at you...”

And then remarkably the two cats on Xander’s lap rose stretched and then leapt down, joined by the cat, the yellow cat that was sharing the glider with Willow. Big black Banndersnatch didn’t deign to leap from his place on the pillar but did stand and preen himself.

The grey striped tab rose and slowly left Buffy’s lap and then was halted in his progress by Midge talking directly to him--

“--Yes, yes, you’re right, you should stay with her.” Midge looked around and pointed to the grey tabby: “What’s his name?”

“Oh that’s Boris...just got him from the shelter...he’s a real sweetie...” Willow responded

“Yes you are...” affirmed Midge “He’s going to stay by you...uh Buffy, yes? Will that be all right?”

“Uh...sure?” She said/asked. Giles covered his smile with his hand Midge smiled when she saw it.

“Oh don’t you worry you’ll get your own personal kitty guard too, Boris here, has taken a liking to Buffy so he’s just the first one who’s stepped up. But we’ll work it all out. Oh dear I’m getting ahead of myself. We still have a lot to talk about. Introductions?”

“Oh of course,” muttered Giles “You spotted Buffy of course, and you know Willow and this is Xander long time friend and comrade of every battle. This is Midge.”

“I am very, very pleased to meet you.” Midge said

Buffy noticed that she extended that remark to the cats as well.

“Now the circle is complete...” Willow remarked and Midge smiled, looked around and frowned a bit.

“Is he coming later?” She asked Giles.

“Hmm? What? Angel? Oh no we’re keeping him out as you suggested...”

“No, no the other one...our grounder...the baseline where is he, is he coming later?”

Buffy knew who she was talking about.

“He’s not coming.”

Midge seemed puzzled by this and repeated it as much for herself, as for them: “Not coming? Well, that doesn’t make sense. Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah, very, very clear.” Said Buffy.

Giles ventured.

“Well maybe we should approach him again--he was...understandably agitated last night and one does not always mean what one says--“

“--I went to the store this morning...he made it very clear. He doesn’t want any part of this.”

Quiet as they thought.

“But that can’t be right...” observed Midge.

“We can find somebody else, right? I mean it’s an unglamorous job but we can find someone else, right? Surely, You, Giles and I and can compensate for power...” Willow was thinking out loud.

Midge considered “Yes...we could find someone else...put the project off until it feels right, it’s just, the four players is also about...balance, we may and would easily find someone, a warlock perhaps who is as powerful if not more so, but the base line is also about being connected. How very strange.”

The quiet asked her to explain.

“Well, it’s not always about power is it? Sometimes getting a job done is about whom you know, being connected.”

“Ah...I get it, in with the in crowd.” said Xander.

“Yes that’s it exactly. It would help tremendously if we had a man on the inside...you know someone who is used to talking to God.”

Bombshell.

“Well it’s not crazy. You all fight monsters kill vampires and whattal but you think talking to God is crazy?” Midge asked softly.

“Do you? Chat it up I mean?” Asked Xander

“But of course. Doesn’t always get back to me--but yeah...sure...doesn’t do to ignore a good friend...What? I have something on my face?” Midge brushed at her face, looking for the offending article.

“Well that’s it then, it’s over.” Giles said.

Beat.

“I’d like to talk to him--does any one mind if I look?” Midge asked

They looked puzzled so Giles explained. “Midge wants to scry, to see, and as she may see information about any one of you that is connected to him--“

“Is it o.k. I peek at your lives?” Midge cut to the chase.

They looked at each other and shrugged what could they possible have hidden that wasn’t already well known? Sure take a look.

They nodded assent and Giles asked

“I assume you’ll be looking for the reason ‘why’”

“Well, first I want see if we’re talking about the same person. The person I saw was someone you’ve known for maybe years, someone who’s helped before...I thought he was some kind of relation...I was sure I picked up a family connection.” She stopped at Buffy’s baffled expression.

“Uh oh...I wonder if I got it wrong...” Midge sat down on the edge of the steps and did a little deep breathing and then spoke out loud as if going on a guided tour.

“Oh...see that? He is very well protected...heavens...talk about a fire wall...he uses fire a lot, it is his familiar and...his foe...see? I can’t get in--I’ve knocked but he won’t answer and it would be...rude in the extreme to break the door down...”

“Can you tell us about the house, who he is?” Giles asked

“Oh yes, I can stand outside and look...well it’s as I’ve seen before...very strong base line--speaks the truth, very forthright, loyal, and it’s an old house...you’ve know him for years, you all have helped him build the house into who he is now...”

“How long?” Buffy asked

“Oh...ten...eleven...oh perhaps, fourteen, fifteen years...go back a ways...”

Willow, Buffy and Giles looked at Xander.

Question mark. And the Xander spoke: “It’s not...me, is it?”

Midge looked; “No...no, you’re water...this man is fire...it’s has taken him a long, long time to slow down enough to be fire in the earth...”

“Volcano Man?” Willow asked

Midge’s laugh was light, “Yes, yes...but much, much more under control than he has been...yes it’s taken him a long time...”

Buffy was getting a sick feeling but had to ask: “How long?”

“Oh...it’s an old, old house....what fifty...eighty could be over hundred years old...but that’s not possible...it could be a metaphor...not literally 100 years maybe just something he went through that feels that long...”

Midge’s voice wound down as she picked up a new vibe.

What was that?

She turned around and looked at Buffy. Everyone followed Midge’s gaze.

“You said he was family, related to who?” Buffy asked very softly.

They had assumed it was metaphor but the answer was meteoric.

“Why...” Midge looked inside. “To the vampire...he is related to Angel...that is also why he would make such a good base...”

She stopped speaking as she watched Buffy take the dive.

Buffy stood up from where she had been sitting on the porch and she suddenly understood that expression ‘the floor fell out from under.’ That was exactly how it felt. Like the world, her understanding of how it worked how the people she loved functioned in it--things they would do, things they would NEVER do was sucked up and inverted. She held on to the post and breathed until her legs grew strong again.

A light flicked on inside her that felt like hope, maybe joy but then that ran into a wall, into something that felt like ‘betrayal.’

It hurt; it hurt so unbearably, that he would betray her; that he could be here on the earth without her knowing--that he could sit and chat and...and...kiss her...that she feared for a moment for her mind, that she might loose it, she would, if the pain went any deeper...so on survival instinct it shortcutted down a well used side road to...anger.

She was angry. There were no words in language anywhere anyhow that could move the molten pain she was feeling into anything as coherent as language.

She started walking and then ran to the car she and Xander had arrived in--couldn’t work, the door, couldn’t work the door handle--she broke the glass with her fist and undid the lock from the inside...as she opened the door, she felt someone grab her in a bear hug from behind--it was Xander.

“Shh...shh now...slow down...” he said into the back of her neck...

She opened her mouth, she gaped and made small popping sounds but couldn’t even find the small words to say: gotta go, gotta go...gotta...

But somehow Xander got it and he said gently.

“Shh....shh...o.k. o.k....but you can’t go like this you’re gonna kill somebody...slow down...If you’re gonna go anyway, I’ll drive you, that way you’re safe, everybody on the road is safe...o.k. huh Buffy...o.k.?”

He held her until he felt her nod. He reached into her hands for the keys, pried them out of her hands and too bad they weren’t bent--that would have been a good excuse--no that’s no good...then she would just take off running...no this was best.

He released Buffy and she moved around and got in the passenger side as he got behind the wheel.

Holy Canole.

They drove off.

Midge came to stand next to Giles; she didn’t ask, he just said softly.

“Spike.”

He loved her so, he could feel the crack of her anger at him across the miles like a whip on his back and it hurt, it hurt, to feel her so angry with him. But he was glad too in a way--because it was done, hiding under the bed wasn’t really his style, and maybe she was angry enough to make something happen. Make something change.

He sent Anthony home, closed the store and waited.

Trial by Fire

It was only about two and a half hours to Newcastle, they should be in before nine--plus missing the rush hour traffic so maybe sooner. He hoped it was enough time. Enough time for Buffy to cool down.

By the time they got to Leeds, she was shaking, Xander noticed it first when she smoothed her hair back with trembling fingers. And he heard positively, yes it was her teeth rattling she was shaking so bad he was afraid she would bite her tongue.

He reached around in the space between the front seats pulled a bottle of water form his stash and handed it to her.

Oddly he recognized the symptoms as some stage of the grief he had gone through after Anya had been killed. Body so confused it went into shock.

“Please, Buffy, drink the water...”

She obeyed and after a couple of swallows she twisted the cap back and then very, very calmly started to crumple up and cry. Just quiet and soundless. She wiped tears away and gripped herself hard enough to squeak out:

“He’s alive? You saw him last night right...hiding but alive right?”

“If it’s him Buffy...can’t be sure...”

“That’s right, that’s right...can’t be sure...”then she stopped remembering the touch, the kiss...and the car was still.

“It’s him.”

She sounded so sure Xander didn’t dare ask how she knew just drove the car.

By the time they got to Darlington, Buffy appeared to have calmed considerably, certainly enough to form at least one coherent sentence.

“Why did he do it Xander?”

“Don’t know Buff...but...just take it slow...I...I know he loved you...”

Buffy turned away from him and looked out the window. Loved; was that the key word--past tense of love, is loved.

“Just ask him, o.k. just...ask...”

Buffy continued looking out the window--but he took her silence as assent.

So he was unprepared to have his best slayer friend jump from the car when they were within three blocks of Spike’s well (potential Spike) store. And Xander realized she had been planning that. He was stuck with the car in the street and would never be able to catch her on foot as she raced ahead.

Shit. Oh god he hoped she would stay cool, and he realized he was feeling sorry for Spike.

Store was closed, windows boarded up, door shut. Solid oak huh? Buffy looked up at the second floor and saw the light on. She didn’t even bother to knock.

She stepped back a few feet and then with a running jump landed both feet solidly in the middle of the door like, well maybe she’d done this kind of thing before.

She stepped off the door and into the dimly lit shop and stopped when she heard someone walking across the floor upstairs. She looked up and then crossed to the middle doors separating the duplex, opening them easily and then took the stairs two at a time, when she reached the landing she saw him waiting for her in the doorway leading to his flat.

He was a silhouette really, lit from behind, but his body, the shadow shape of it resembled Spike, but wasn’t--and how do you change your bone structure? So for a moment she was unsure and then he said.

“Hello Buffy.”

And it was him. It was. It wasn’t Spike’s voice, it sounded like Willem, but it was him what he sounded like from the inside.

“Spike.” She said softly.

And she heard an intake of breath and then a soft.

“Come on in...”

And he disappeared into the dark of his flat.

She followed him through the door.

He seemed so sad it deflated her anger somewhat, it didn’t seem like he was gloating, or spiteful...just so sad...

She only had one question. Well for now.

“Why?”

He was sitting on the arm of an easy chair, like his legs wouldn’t be strong enough to support him through this.

“You want the short answer?”

“I want the real one.”

Spike looked inside and saw, all, all the incredible long list of reasons but in the end spoke the truth.

“Angel.”

Buffy started a little. It...it wasn’t what she had expected to hear, she half expected to hear something about how it was best for her, or la da...but here it was simple. Angel.

“You were my friend, Spike, you have been the best friend to me that I’ve ever had or could hope to have, I trusted you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. I believed in you. I loved you...”

He looked down at this. The room was in shadows--just a single light by the window so it was hard to see what he was feeling. She moved around to get a better look at him.

“I suffered, thinking you were dead, knowing how you died; I suffered for years, and years and years.” She stopped for a moment to take a breath. “You had it in your power, with one phone call, just one, to take me out of that hell.”

He put his head in his hands, but said nothing.

“Even if you believed I didn’t love you...even if you believed that in your bones...you knew...you knew I was your friend, that I would back you and be your friend come whatever. And a friend deserves...one phone call...”

Buffy heard a squeak on the stairs and she knew Xander had arrived but was waiting out of sight but within earshot--for who, for her, for him?

Spike was speaking now.

“Don’t you get it Buffy? Don’t you see? Not everything in this sodding bloody world is about you.” When he spoke his voice was calm but his words cut.

“This was about me, what I needed, that night, before it all happened, you came to me, you pinned me down until I confessed what I was feeling, how much I loved you, what being with you, just holding you meant to me...do you remember what you said?”

Buffy looked down at her feet.

“You said something like, don’t worry, or you got nothing to be scared about and the next thing I see is you locking lips with the vamp what left you years before, and had barely kept tabs--and you drop everything, really to kiss him, in way, frankly, you’ve never kissed me...and I realized right then that you never would. Something broke in me then Buffy that’s never been put to rights...I could never call you, ask you for help, not ever again...believe it or not, I am a survivor...and just being around, loving you like that would kill me slow but sure...”

Buffy was confused and at a loss and struggled to find her way into the argument...

“You’re talking about a conversation, about something I did, just before the biggest battle of our lives--emotions run high...you can’t bring that up unless you also remember the night before...don’t...do...do you remember, that last night in the basement?”

And here she moved in close to him and laid a hand on his shoulder--and then was suddenly shocked by it--he was alive she was touching Spike. Her words stopped as she just touched and stroked his shoulder and arm like a little girl being taught how to touch a pup. Just be gentle, see? Feel how soft...

“Oh god Spike...I’ve missed you so much...you’ve been the best friend to me...”

He felt her need to hold him and if he didn’t do something quick she would exercise slayer strength on his ass and if he felt her body up against his--he pushed her roughly away and stepped around her.

The words burst from him: “God slayer, are you trying to kill me? And what about now? Remember what brought you back into my life...your little quest? So you and Angel can be together--“

Her brow pulled together as she struggled to remember how it was put to Willem that night. This was more about helping Angel find peace than about setting him free for her, (but hasn’t that been at the back of your mind--a tiny hope?)

Instead of an answer she went on the attack.

“Is that why you won’t help him? You have it in your power to help someone and you won’t cuz, what? It’s payback time? Angel has spent the last fifteen years dedicating his life to helping the world, saving the world and just what have you been doing during all that time? Hiding away--“

“--You wanna know how I help save the world? We write stories Buffy. Some of us have found that the only way to be in this bloody world is to rewrite it. Just us, we small little atoms of nothing...not big like you or holy or royal or working with the presidential seal just a handful of dreamers. And what of your world? It...is so...completely insane we have rebuild it daily and save it story by story until it resembles something, anything like what’s going on in our hearts, like anything that feels real...until your world feels good enough to go on living in... Until love does what it supposed to!”

“I never asked you to love me!”

The words burst from her, tore from her really and it must have hurt to say it, to reach inside her and speak something that was hurting so. And he respected her for it. He did. Voice softer he stepped in closer.

“You did luv...you did...you do all the time, not just me but everyone...you ask everyone to love you, and we do, we do, haven’t you ever noticed how everyone loves you? But it’s all right luv...”

He wanted to stroke her hair so bad...had to stop his hand. But he stepped in closer.

“It’s all right, I’m not complaining about that, it just...is...and it’s all right to know it cuz that’s THE way. You’re like a small goddess on earth what needs our love to do your job. You turn our love into the light that cuts up the monsters. Your love cut up the monster in me and that’s a fact, so it’s not bad, but it is true...it is the way of things, the way it all works.”

Here he did stroke her cheek.

“But I could never be like Xander, I could never bury it somewhere so’s I could still stay nearby...can’t live that way...I want it all...I always want it all...thas’ who I am...so let me go Buffy...”

He stroked her cheekbone his thumb...little warm trembles raced each other toward her heart.

“I knew...somewhere...I knew it felt like you...” suddenly she needed to see him, his face, his blue eyes

“Let me your face Spike, let me hear your voice, please...put this glamour or charm or whatever it is away...don’t say these things to me looking like a stranger...”

Immediately he stepped back and involuntarily his hand slipped to the amulet he wore under cover of clothes.

Too late, he had given himself away.

With slayer speed she snatched at his shirt, grabbing the amulet and ripping both off his body in one tearing rent.

Willem was gone. Image of a healthy man with brown hair, brown eyes was gone and in his place stood a...monster.

It crouched as if it made to run and then froze and slowly straightened to face her down.

She stared, baffled and involuntarily checked inside her jacket for the concealed weapons she always carried.

The monster noted it and chuffed.

“Well...it’s done, didn’t want you to find out--just remember that, before you scream yourself silly--“

That voice...it was horse, like he had been shouting or talking with the scarred tissue of laryngitis...but that voice...it was Spike.

It was Spike.

Buffy stepped in closer and she could see his protective reflexes told him to back up, find a dark corner don’t let her see you like this--but he stood his ground. He stayed still under her scrutiny; he waited until she saw it.

Burns.

Massive, massive tissue damage, one third of his face almost melted from burns and this was the scar tissue that healed from the burns. This sliding side of his face was the damage, but also showed the extremity of the problem. The bones over his right eye pushed downward almost obscuring his vision. In contrast the left side of face was by comparison, fine...there was scar tissue but it was still him, she could recognize him. She could see him in his eye.

“Spike.” She whispered.

“Yeah...”

She couldn’t hold it any longer, backed up a few feet and vomited on his rug.

“Bloody Hell.”

Xander came through the open doorway at a bit of a rush at the sound of the vomiting and froze in mid stride

“Hey Harris...” Spike said dimly.

Xander just stared, the face was horrible...but the body was too...Spike’s chest was covered in scar tissue, the muscle on his right pectoral had been consumed by fire, the flesh on his right arm reduced to almost half his normal volume...the fingers on his right hand were missing but the thumb, index finger and palm were still in tact.

He was a car wreck it was horrible, horrible, something horrible that happened to someone you knew but he couldn’t look away...whereas Buffy could not look at him at all.

Her head was between her knees, and she had finished emptying her stomach...but she couldn’t look at him.

Spike looked at Xander and quipped “Say where you get the great glass eye mate? Who’d ever thought we would be able to talk shop, eh?”

Xander started to cry. Just small manly weepy water...but still it was there...pity.

Well that just made Spike mad.

“I didn’t go looking for you! Didn’t ask you to come, you just remember that! You sods! You blithering blubbering idiots! You think this is something to cry about? I’ll give you something to cry about. The pain for one--not even on the scale, not even a word, or a hundred, or a hundred thousand would be adequate to describe those first two years.”

“Stop...” Buff breathed “Please...”

“Stop, as in stop living? Or stop as in stop talking, stop expressing meself--cuz that would be fairly the same I expect. Well let me say this, one: stop with the pity, cuz I’m ‘god’s masterpiece, I’m god’s bloody pet project, a masterpiece of irony and why not? Why not? What’s more difficult, more hideous to contemplate--what I did to the world? Or what the world did to me? Or has it just finally come up even?”

He took a deep breath and when he spoke again, his voice lost some of its harsh bravado. He was talking mad and that was no good for his own sake--that kind of anger just sent him on a downward spiral. He tried again; he tried to talk to them, his old battle companions, he tried to talk to them...and not at them.

“After all these thousands of years of history it’s still all about royalty isn’t it? About who is on World’s short list. Punish the peasant, the bloody upstart and the chosen ones get off with the guarantee of true love and punish anyone who makes up their own mind. Or...or more frightening...is this my reward? I’ve been round and round every scenario but the bottom line is, here I am, I’m still alive, got the demon burned to bright along with a goodly bit of flesh and here I am brought back as what I truly fear and truly despise, respectively. Being human... and being a monster. And this world, the tough task master that it is--pulled it off.”

He sat down on the arm of the chair and spoke low to them so they knew it was the truth.

“But I wouldn’t even be alive, if I didn’t want to be, I never, ever would have made it out of the mud slide I ended up in that day--don’t doubt it, cuz if I wanted to be dead, believe me I’d be dead...no I’m still alive cuz it’s better. Alive is better.

Oh it’s hard, let me tell you...and some days is very, very hard but I am not sorry; not in the long end. It’s better than hell.”

And here Spike addressed Buffy kneeling now on the floor but still not looking at him. She was crying, he knew, but she was tough, didn’t her hand pull back the curtain on the wizard? Something he never would have done. But now it felt o.k. to have the mask off. Well...not o.k....never was much good at subterfuge. But he talked to her, like parts of it were o.k.

“Cuz I’m not sorry, not in the long end, I’m not sorry I loved you or that I still do--it got me out of hell Buffy, and even living here like this...this is better than that, you have no idea, and never should. Cuz as happy an’ whole as you an’ Angel are--I would never want to be you. I would never want to be a slave. Cuz tha’s how you both act most times, tied to the illusion that your life’s not your own. Destiny. Chosen. Chosen for special pleasures, special pains. Royal. You could have love right there, right on your plate and you would say it nay--wrong color. Like that sad story of the bloke on the roof of his house during a flood praying for rescue, all kinds of craft come by to keep him safe and holds off--cuz...he’s waiting for...what? A helicopter painted pink and nothing other will do? So What? So love comes by and I take it--I do, in whatever color or shape and that’s what’s brought me here...but...it was...what I wanted to do...”

Spike sighed

“See, and here’s the thing; I know you love me. I know it. We touch each other and we scream for each other body and soul. I know you love me. But it’s like the princess accidentally grazing the hand of the lowly...you love me; you just don’t want to love me. Your head tells you to stick to the blue blood and your soul and body begs for me. It took me years to figure out why I got so many confused messages--it’s cuz you’re confused. You’re just ashamed to love me...cuz I’m not a...pink helicopter...”

He stopped, a little taken with the imagery then shook it off saying--

“I know you love me. Hell, you love everybody...thas’ not it. The thing is...will you let me love you...”

Buffy stared at the floor, at the red carpet, vomit, twirls of colors a mixed message--what was he saying? No, no, it was complicated...it...it...

Then Spike was talking again and he sounded so tired.

“You get it. I need a drink. You want a drink?

Buffy said nothing

“Harris..”

“Wouldn’t mind a beer.”

“Good for you.”

Spike smiled, but it was twisted by the scarring and now a double negative and did an ironic smile in the ironic mask made it

sincere?

He stopped to finish his thought before getting the drinks.

“So the world, and the energy in it may try to dust me daily for using my free will and standing up to storm the castle, but I still say it’s my right to do it.”

Buffy finally, finally looked at him, and he had to look down for a moment until he could control himself, to look past her look of woe...to look inside, to be inside her just one more time.

“Buffy, don’t feel sorry for me. I’m free. No demon. It’s gone, or....here but blended in. I’m free...I feel what I want, when I want...my feelings are my own, may be squashed like a bug but...free.”

Buffy ran.

Wasn’t even aware of how she got to her feet or out the door, or down the steps just suddenly found her self running in St. James Park.

Mates

Xander couldn’t, just couldn’t leave, not yet, so he was downstairs putting the front door back on. Sure it was awful and maybe it meant he was anal or some kind of pack rat--but the never went anywhere without his tools.

Speaking of which--terrible thought, wince...but just how much of Spike flesh got burned away?

He still acted like he had a pair--Jeesch! Big mental scolding, but it was every man’s nightmare. It was really none of his business, didn’t want to be part of his business and yet...he couldn’t leave, not yet.

It was too much, too much, it was overkill and a half and instant karma on top.

One of those things you would never wish on even your worst enemy; or old enemy even.

Well the door was almost back on straight; the hinges were back on in the right place but Xander was struggling to get it aligned, the door was pretty heavy--

--when someone grabbed it from the outside and lifted--

“Uh if you’re helping, then lift and push a little bit to the left--no, no, I mean your right, yeah that’s it. Loveadishous.”

Xander used his flat head screwdriver to tighten the last two screws on the plate chatting all the while.

“So I says to myself, self, is that mighty mouse as in a very strong and silent as a mouse or a contrite--”

He opened the door to reveal Buffy standing still, head lowered a bit on the other side of the door.

“Slayer. Hello Buffy.”

Buffy looked at him her expression soft.

“Hello Xander.”

“Oh what the hey, come on in. The evening is young, we can still break a few tables and chairs.”

Buffy walked in quiet as a kitty cat and Xander closed the door behind her.

Xander busied himself with the locks trying to recreate something that resembled home security.

“You’ve locked us in.”

“Only literally.”

They looked at each other for a moment.

“How is he?”

“Quiet, I don’t know. Quiet. After you left, he left the room, went to the bedroom I think. Closed the door. No peep. I had to

get my own beer.”

“Xander.”

“Hey, he asked.” Xander picked up what was left of the beer he had placed on a coffee table and drained it in one gulp.

Buffy started toward the interior doors that led upstairs--Xander’s voice stopped her.

“What are your plans?”

She turned around “What do you mean?”

“I mean...what are your plans?”

She didn’t answer.

“I’m not sure it’s your business Xander.”

He scratched his head. “Well...maybe it wasn’t before, I mean it really wasn’t my business back then, but now...yeah it might be. Hey, I think I’m Spike’s brand new old friend how about that?”

Xander walked to the easy chairs by the window and gestured Buffy to follow. She did.

He sat. She sat.

“Buffy, something happened to him that shouldn’t happen to a rat...and he’s survived it, survived and...sane. Maybe. Which means he can take a lot--but love can be a spirit killer in this world and it shouldn’t be, but it is and we...we all get so confused sometimes and loving someone who doesn’t love back feels...well it feels like the world’s gone crazy and god’s laughing at you big time.”

Xander stopped and looked down.

“He may have been able to take being set on fire to save the world--but I don’t know if he can take being around you. Do you?”

Buffy thought and then said. “I’m just gonna apologize. I need to...I can’t leave it like that.”

“O.K. you know him best. But maybe you should wait till morning? He might be asleep by now.”

She doubted that but nodded.

Xander stood, “We can get out the back way--there’s a door with an automatic lock--“

“--I’m not leaving. He...he might not let me in tomorrow to see him, so I’m gonna stay so I can see him first thing.”

Xander paused and then shrugged. “Should we call Spilsby?”

“Would you Xander? I...wanna think a bit.”

“O.K. Buffy, good luck.”

“Xander...thanks...for everything...” Buffy said softly.

Xander shrugged. For once he had run out of words.

Xander rang Willow at 12:31

Angel rang Buffy at 12:30

“Hallo...”

“Hello...Will?”

“Oh hey Xander...I was just practicing my English accent--that’s as far as I got--‘hallo’. Whataya think?”

“Can’t think right now Will--my brain has just been cleaned out...”

“Oh god...bad? That bad?”

Giles stood and walked into Willow’s kitchen at the sound of her voice. He leaned up against the door jamb and listened.

“Hello”

“Buffy...it’s Angel...”

“Uh yeah...kind a know your voice...”

Pause.

“You’re tired.”

“A bit. You at Willows?”

“No...and I guess you aren’t either...”

”--Was...Xander and I had to run...an errand.”

Beat.

“Buffy I hate having this conversation over the phone...I wasn’t sure before, so I didn’t want to say until I was sure...”

“It’s been a bizarre day Angel, spit it out.”

He takes a breath.

“Cordy has come out of her coma. Completely. She was phasing in and out for the past week, so the doctors had warning and informed me that she might come to--“

“--But Angel that’s great news, everyone will be so happy to hear it...Xander especially--“

“--Yeah it is, it is...”

“She’s been under for so long, what kind of damage is she looking at?”

“Can’t be sure at this point. Faith was in a coma for a year and came out--“

“--But that can’t compare, can it?”

“Buffy, Cordy is waking up as some kind of Slayer.”

Pause.

“She went under just...just before you closed the Hellmouth--“

“--Spike.”

Silence.

“Spike closed the Hellmouth Angel...remember? I must have told you ten times.”

Silence and in that silence she could have sworn he was waiting for her to apologize. For snipping? For correcting? For Spike?

She heard him draw in a breath when after a few beats went by in silence.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah I’m here. Where are you calling from Angel?”

“The slayer healing is the only thing that has brought her around at all, the doctors think, but recovery, rehabilitation will be long and hard...and...

“Where are you calling from Angel?”

“--I gotta be there for her Buff...”

“Where are you calling from Angel?”

“London. I drove back to London--Newcastle International didn’t have a flight until late tomorrow--I...I couldn’t reach you on your phone.”

“Yeah I turn it off when I’m doing something I need to focus on. What about Spilsby? The ceremony--everybody has worked so hard to make this happen for you. Can’t the doctors take care of her--”

“No Buffy...I...god I hate doing this on the phone...”

Sigh. Disembodied voice and always far, always far and away felt familiar, too familiar and so it really wasn’t that hard.

“Cordy and I were close before she was injured.”

Pause.

“You never told me.”

“No.”

“I mean ever.”

“No...I...there were things...no...I didn’t tell you...”

“So what are you saying? Just say it.”

“I gotta go back to L.A, and right now. I gotta help her.”

Beat.

“She loved me Buffy, I...I know she did...does...and for her it’s still seven years ago, she...loves me...”

Silence.

“You there?”

“Yeah.”

“She needs me Buffy.”

(more than you)

“You feel guilty?”

“No, no...but I do feel...responsible...love carries with it feelings of responsibility. That word isn’t used a lot, but it isn’t bad. Not a bad word, you know...sometimes you should give more than you get...”

(Should I ask ‘do you love her’ or did you just tell me that you do?)

“I love you Buffy, but she needs me, for now, for a little bit and, and I owe her. She helped me when I needed it and she’s been there for me for years. And I ought to be there for her...I want to be there for her...maybe its old school but I have to stick by the people who have stuck by me...”

Pause.

“It’s all right Angel.”

Beat.

“You understand.?”

“I really do.”

(She considered for a moment but only for one moment, telling him about Spike but intuitively knew that any breeze in that direction and Angel’s territorial thing would be bigger than his need, to be with Cordy . Ego, pride, love old habits whatever. It didn’t matter that he loved Cordy; that she was a loyal friend to him, that he owed her his allegiance; if he felt someone was challenging his kingdom he would stay to keep it ALL as if it was his due, even if it was a dusty toy from childhood that had lost its relevance...it was habit of the heart...)

She knew the feeling.

What would Princess Di do?

Angel was talking again.

“I’ve already called Willow and told her the ceremony is off for now--didn’t tell her why. I wanted you to know about Cordy first, but all the research is done...and...maybe...maybe when Cordy is up on her feet we’ll do it then.”

Beat.

“Sure Angel...that sounds fine. Whatever you want. We’ll...we’ll do it later.”

Silence.

“Buffy say something...tell me what you’re feeling.”

“You better go Angel, don’t miss your flight. I...I’m glad Cordy woke up. Nobody deserves a half life, no, not at all. Goodbye

Angel.”

“I’ll see you soon...”

Pause and then:

“Bye Angel.”

click.

free.

Her heart hurt and her back a little too, crazy overstuffed easy chair. She felt like she had been hollowed out or did she feel light? Was she dizzy or free? It should hurt and it did a bit but from where? Which wound? What weapon?

She fell asleep.

Somewhere just before morning she felt somebody staring at her and opened her eyes to see Kendra sitting in the easy chair next door. Her heart leapt the happy jump, jump.

“Kendra.”

She looked Buffy in the eye and spoke without preamble.

“Buffeee...let me just ask dis, if de man you love was gone suddenly, he ‘tied--

“--Spike is all right isnt he? He wouldn’t hurt himself would he? Should I go check on him?”

Kendra smiled one of those very rare but glorious smiles.

“He has made it ‘dis far hasn’t he?”

“--Stop trying to scare me...”

“--At least now you know who de man you love...is...”

Buffy woke up.

It was morning, sunlight coming through the cracks on the shutters on the windows.

Stark clean cuts of light.

She looked at the chair next to her but knew there would be no Kendra.

Hey. At least heaven had given her a new shirt.

“Ta ‘K’”

Hey! She spoke in Northumberland idiom. How’d she ever break the SoCal conditioning? Well, if she could learn one new thing, she could learn another and how strange that it was Angel to show her the way.

Friendship and love, friendship is love.

And she had done her duty to Angel...some part of the old tie was tied up. Tried to help him and he had gone his way...the way he has, would and will. He knew what he was doing....

Buffy wondered if he knew when she had said goodbye...she had meant...goodbye.

Buffy got up and stretched. Bones snap crackling body untangle completed, she looked around the room.

There was a lot to do today.

Make Me

He didn’t come down all day. She waited but he didn’t come down.

She would pace, just get up and move a little to keep her senses sharp, made herself some tea and feasted on cookies, really, really not a good idea, to sugar herself up--but she was hungry and too afraid to go out, to leave the proximity of him, had to keep some certain kind of radius to him.

Also she was listening and been listening all morning and couldn’t really relax despite Kendra’s cryptic message that he might be o.k.--she couldn’t relax until she heard his footfall; the squeak of some old boards overhead.

Spike. Feet of Spike.

O.K. O.K. O.K.

And she had braced herself for facing him when he came down. But he didn’t.

She did not have the nerve really, to break into his world again, his home. She would, if she had too, just would prefer to be...respectful.

Maybe, because it was Monday--It was Monday wasn’t it? Maybe he didn’t open the store on Monday?

Buffy went to the front window to check the hours, pulled the card from the door--no...he was open on Monday. But it also said, if closed please ring for appointment. So maybe he kept hours as he liked.

Maybe he just didn’t feel up to it.

Yeah maybe that.

So she listened for his feet print on the other side of the ceiling and tried to think what to do.

The phone rang on the counter and she jumped a bit...watched it ring four times and then heard a far off ring upstairs.

Forwarded. She listened to see how many times it rang. O.K. he picked it up on mid eighth ring. So he’s up and about. Well that’s good.

Her own cell rang softly at about 10:16--she checked the screen, really did not want to talk to Angel: Spilsby. Willow, she considered letting her voicemail pick it up and then punched the button.

“Hi Will.”

He knew she was downstairs or somewhere nearby, so he voted for downstairs. It was the softness in the air, he always felt when she was nearby, the thing he felt that she didn’t seem to.

Oh well, sulk a bit and why not?

He was getting hungry and there was no food in the place, and his metabolism ran so high, he’d found he’d had to feed this poor old body quite a bit. But that was also in regard to the energy he used up when wearing ‘the suit’ as he called it.

So he kinda wished she would leave so he could order take out or something...did he have an account with anybody that would deliver this early? Oh yeah, Mao’s would deliver on credit. Just leave the food at the back door...but he’d have to go down and get it and no way was he facing her like this. Not. Bloody. Likely. Not again.

So he projected with his mind: Go, go, go away...but still it felt so nice to have her aura so nearby to soften the air.

Go, go, stay, stay...just don’t come up.

No wonder he had gotten addicted to her, even a day in her presence and he’d be helplessly hooked again.

Maybe he should get out of here? Whatever it was it would have to wait till dark.

Another irony, all human (mostly) and ensouled too but still monster enough to have to travel in the dark.

God really was the funniest chap--humor took an acquired taste though.

She had fallen asleep sometime in the late afternoon. And when she woke it was dark outside and there was the faint but distinctive aroma of Chicken fried rice. It was there in the air. And she could identify it so easily because she was so hungry.

She followed the faint little traces in the air like a cartoon character following something almost visible.

Drat.

She could smell it out here in the hallway but not in the shop. That meant the sneaky little English prat snuck down here (Snuck? In his own place?--Don’t correct me!)

He had waited until she fell asleep and had ordered food...probably lots of food...mmm...food and then had snuck, yes SNUCK

past tense of sneak, is snuck and the food was definitely past tense and gobble, gobbled.

Huh. He must know she is here, cuz wouldn’t he have come to front door to pick up the food? Instead of having the delivery guy send it to the back?

No that logic was no good. If the store was closed he would use the back door. But he knew, cuz...hey! The middle doors dividing the duplex were open and he must have dared a look in at her.

I hope I was slobbering. Asleep and slobbering all over his chair--cuz that’s what he gets for not leaving me any food, for not sharing. He knew how ravenous she could get...and had always taken care of her before.

He had always taken care of her.

O.K.

She got it.

She went to the cash register and looked for menus to local restaurants. Two could play at that. Let’s see, what smells really, really good? Fish n’ chips...maybe...not her favorite, but might be nice bait to wiggle for an English fish.

Rostocelli? Yes. Nice cheesy tomatoey aroma--with bread, warm garlic bread. She made the call on her cell phone and waited by the back door of the shop, in case her directions had been too vague or off.

Hee hee hee.

That Bitch. And he meant that with a capital ‘B’ for Buffed. He thought he had ordered enough food to last for days and that Chinese was what was wanted but he had eaten it all and she was STILL here and then he smelt that...that...

Rich thick hot promise of hot tomato sauce and the closest he had gotten to the satisfaction of blood in this body and there it was tantalizing and thick as a heartfelt promise.

What time was it? He checked his watch, 12:05. They might still deliver. He went into his living room to pick up the phone and noticed his front door open a crack...

He walked cautiously to the door to push it shut but felt something lean against it from the other side. He opened the door to find. Two Little white bags and two big white bags and lovely just lovely smells coming from them.

No message, no note, just little bags of food ready and waiting and delivered to his door like an appeal.

This gesture more than any word or series of words spoken in her quiet Buffy voice whispered:

‘Please forgive me.’

He was not going to cry...he wasn’t. But he did pick up the food and he did forgive her.

Always.

He was the monster after all.

O.K. day two and he still hasn’t come down and Willow thinks I should go up and Xander thinks I shouldn’t and Giles abstains. And as Dawn says how can you run a business if you’re not in business?

She was going up.

She chose 12:00, high noon. It might have been poetic but really, it was only an accident because that was as long as it took for her to get her nerve up.

She opened the middle doors and made a big deal about climbing the stairs so he would have no doubt about her intentions

and...and...

“...Don’t really want to see you right now Slayer...”

His voice stopped her just outside the front door to his flat.

Beat.

“I wanna see you.”

He chortled.

“You really should at least...consider...not getting everything you want...”

Pause.

“Spike...do you really, honestly think I’ve gotten everything in life I’ve wanted?”

Pause

“’Suppose not.”

Pause.

“Please.”

“Just...don’t wanna see you heave your fine dinner all over me rugs again. Oriental dontcha know.”

“Oh yeah, like you are so into the material world.”

“Different. These are special rugs they are...magic...flying carpet like and intestinal regurgitation inhibits the natural what’ is--mechanics.”

“Oh come on...are they really? Let me see, show me how they work--”

“--Make me.”

Pause.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“Can I apologize without this big hulking piece of wood between us?”

“God, Buffy...that...is...poetic...”

“Spike...”

“I’m not kidding and its ironic too--put Guy de Maupassant to shame. ‘Big hulking piece of wood’ do you get it? Vampire? Stake? Wood? I’m going to write that one down for you--you may not want it now-- ”

“I’m coming in--“

“--Please don’t, don’t wanna make you sick--really. Although you’d think something like that globulous Gob-horik would have

turned your stomach a lot faster--”

“--Please don’t...” She whispered, “Please, please don’t...besides it wasn’t you; what happened to you...it was...it was the thought of how much pain you were in...I know what burns feel like...it ...hurt...I...it was terrible...”

Silence.

“Oh. So I look alright then?”

“Oh no, it’s pretty bad, but--I want to talk to you for a while, I wanna see you--if you’re so worried about it, just put on your

charm--“

“--Can’t. You broke it.”

Buffy too alarmed to stop herself opened the door and stepped in:

“I did what?!”

He was there sitting on the sofa near the window looking up into her, his eyes big, looking trapped and a little fearful.

She swallowed. Yeah it was bad. It was bad when he was in the dark, now in the light she could see, well and truly, it was very bad.

She felt tears spring to her eyes and she did some deep breathing.

“Do I have to worry about me fine furnishings?” He barely whispered.

“No.” She breathed back. “It’s...it’s what I said...not you...it’s what you went through. If you doubt me just remember I felt bad after you’ve been beaten up before you know...”

He looked down--ah...memories...

This was good, she was bantering a bit...that’s right, just keep it moving; don’t break down or he’ll take it wrong.

He was looking down at the coffee table. She followed his gaze.

It was the amulet she had given him so many years ago. Broken in three pieces.

“I broke it.” She repeated uselessly

“Well...depends on your point of view...did you break it? Or did every moment we’ve ever lived come racing to a point and snap crackle pop?”

“Thank you Zen.”

“No problem.”

She sat down on the couch next to him and she felt him ease away from her a little on reflex and she bit her lip.

“Uh...sorry?” She whispered

“Uh huh...well said.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Don’t think so. There’s someone I can call back in Arizona...but I’ve just been sitting here thinking; what’s the point?

“O.K. Sulking?”

He paused as if he had to think about it.

“Yeah...little bit.”

“Maybe Willow--“Buffy started

”--NO! Do not bring them bloody into it.” Spike said tightly.

She bit her lip.

“They know? Course they know. Well doesn’t matter--don’t want they’re help...or yours for that matter.”

“But I broke it. I gotta fix it.”

“Don’t know as that you can. Turns out that amulet is a one in a million and a little multi tasker too.”

“But I know Willow can do a charm, a glamour.”

“That wasn’t glamour, nothing like magic--it was...like a projection, rearranging the third dimensions just right around me. My energy projected through it and let me touch the world and...have the world touch me. T’wasn’t magic. T’was more like...physics. Pain might have been the price of admission to bring me back to being alive and evil free--but that amulet was the pot of gold at the end.”

Buffy looked at him cocking her head.

“Hey, necessity is the mother of learning something.”

“So I hear.”

They both looked at the broken pieces.

“Unbelievable...” She touched one of the pieces and felt him wince just a bit in reflex...like she was going to hurt him somehow in some new way. She ignored him and pushed the pieces back together, broken but up close.

“What about this person in Arizona?”

Spike drew in a breath.

“Shaman of all shamans, king of medicine men. He had a vision about me, an’ he’s the one what found me crawling in the mud. He told me later that’s what saved most my hyde, kept me from cooking all the way through. The earth loving me. Thas’ what he said”

Buffy’s hands gripped each other.

“I didn’t know...I thought you were gone...”

“Think I was...I remember burning up...or maybe I was just burning through--definitely felt the black...the evil being burnt out of me...it...it felt good Buffy I wasn’t lying about that...whatever anger or whatever I feel now it’s small...maybe ordinary is the word...it’s not trip connected to a potential black explosion of evil. I’m safe as houses.”

He wanted to smile, she wanted to cry.

“Ah luv don’t...can’t believe it--you fall into my life...won’t take ‘no’; break my favorite toy and NOW I have to hand YOU a hanky.”

He made a point of sighing and then continued:

“Incredible. An’ I don’t have any cuz manly ex vamps don’t cry.”

“Spike...” she hiccupped choked it out “I’ve missed you so much...” She leaned her head down on her knees and...and he reached out and stroked her back...had too, had to ease her pain if he could...

“Ah luv...”

Her words were broken, coming as they did from her hurt.

“I’m so glad you’re not dead...annndd...I’m sorry I broke your...yourrr...thing...”

“Shh...shhh...things are bound to get broke, milk always gets spilled...”

She pulled herself up and leaned in against him wrapping her arms around his chest--

--He choked a bit, no one had touched him like that, the real him, since, her, since seven years ago...

The shock melted to pleasure...humans were meant to touch and be touched--not a monster or man monster even.

“I’ll fix it...I’ll, I’ll get you a new one, a better one...the best one... ” she broke into his chest.

“Shh...shh sure you will luv...I’m sure of it...”

And with these words even if they were only spoken as comfort were enough for Buffy to hang onto. He would let her help him...

He would let her love him.

At least that’s how she chose to hear it, and with such slim permission one can change the world. All one really needs is a toe in the door...a bitty, bitty...space to begin.

He stroked her hair with his good left hand and she leaned into him, and of all the impossible things; she kissed his chest.

Pitching Woo

She didn’t really care if she invaded his personal space. Well, not much, she did a bit--trying to be respectful. But when she had awoken on the sofa some hours later head on a pillow quilt tucked around but sans Spike. She got up bleary eyed and like a little girl gone looking for a drink of water she found his bedroom, the door was partway open and she heard his voice saying from far away--

“Ssctch. Now, now Buffy luv, go on back to sleep--“

She nodded assent, yes she was tired...and walked sleepily to his bed, pulled up his covers and without a word, tucked herself next to his chest and fell promptly asleep.

Something happens when a man a woman sleep together. When you’re asleep, the body speaks a sorta ‘truth.’ The etheric body reaches out to protect and assess the information coming in from the world, and when sleeping with someone, the energy patterns interlock and hold hands like.

Well, that’s the science but in fact when Spike woke he felt himself bonded back to Buffy.

Helplessly he sniffed her hair just short of nuzzling her neck.

Impossible woman. Simply impossible and now impassable.

When she left him again, he might die.

Too much of his life force was now reinvested with hers, and now hooked as he was with the smooth cushion of her loving aura...

He shook his head. Never say never...but being with her now in whatever way this would be; might be it. His last burst of speed in this human race.

He smoothed her hair, gentle not to wake her--and saw the single forefinger and thumb remaining on his right hand.

He had forgotten. Somewhere in the night--she had made him feel so good, just to be--he had forgotten.

He didn’t know he had fallen back asleep until he woke up. Of course he knew right away that she was gone. That little vacant feeling, a small minus sign and there was a ping in his heart at the subtraction and he thought.

“I’m in trouble.”

It disturbed him, more than a little at the thought of her studying him while he slept, as he knew she must have. He would have. The perfect opportunity to assess the damage without being accused of staring.

She had left the bed...but she was still here. That soft feeling was in the air. The cushion of her honey self. Her true nature. The truth was people loved her because she was so full of love.

He would never forget how she had taken him in newly ensouled and dangerous indeed...and took care of him. Maybe it was an investment in a soldier, but he liked to think it was because she was at heart...kind.

He had omitted that little factoid from his harangue and it egged at him now.

And now she was cooking something?

What had he in the flat that you could cook?

He vaguely remembered something about catsup and beer...but that can’t be right...that couldn’t smell like...

He leaned against the doorjamb and studied her. As his gaze swept over her body he felt that softness begin somewhere deep inside whenever he saw her.

She had her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and had donned one of his white t shirts and those were definitely his sweat pants. She floated in the clothes a bit but still her nipples found the time to rub up against the fabric of the ‘t’ until they looked right perky undercover of cloth.

He suddenly remembered Dawn’s Scott and stifled a choking laugh. Ah, that’s right--it’s not just any breasts...it’s her breasts, the twin peaks of your beloved.

She looked around at him and smiled (even while she choked inside it was terrible, it really was--the face, the partially melted face and destroyed body meant...pain...to see him was to see pain.) She turned back to her task taking in a deep breath and blinking her eyes in order to clear them before he saw.

“Buffy, what are you doing?”

“Kippers. Frying little fishies...yucch really, but I read in a magazine, it’s supposed to make all Englanders go all weak knee’d or something. Fish in the morning. Really. Must have something to do with running around and around on a small island surrounded by the sea. Makes you a little stir crazy, fish in the morning, fish for tea, fish, fish, fish...poor fishies...”

“Uh yup...” He couldn’t help but smile. “I mean, what are you doing?”

“Aren’t you hungry? I heard your stomach growling all night.”

“I’m very hungry; won’t deny it and where did this all come from by the way.”

“When I ordered the food last night, that Italian place, I asked if there was a store..

“A grocer’s...”

“Yeah, that delivered and here you are.”

Spike picked up a bill and studied the return address...”oh yeah...right. You mind this bloke Buffy...he’s got a thing for American birds.”

“Don’t talk, butter scones...” She instructed.

He said nothing but got a tub of butter from the fridge and took it to the counter and set up shop to butter toasted bread bits.

“What are you doing Buffy?” He asked with his back to her as he buttered bread.

She turned to look at him. Looked at the strong clean lines of his back sweeping down to his round firm backside.

Spike.

Sometimes, it just struck her, like right now...here...here he was... this was his back...back of Spike...she felt a warm glow grow in her heart that she felt flow to him. She felt him find it, pick up the thread dangled but instead of grabbing it like a lifeline, he turned to stare her down with almost tears in his eyes.

A silent but insistent: ‘Well!’

She spoke softly. “I’m making breakfast Spike, You’re gonna eat till you’re not hungry anymore and while you do we sit and talk and eat and talk...it’s a bonding thing.”

“What you want to know?”

“Well...for starters...seeing as how I’m going to find you a replacement amulet...you gotta tell me everything you know about this one. Side effects...unusual properties...how it works all that stuff...”

“Already told you...don’t want your help, or your mates--“

“NO!” Buffy stepped up close to him her voice low but with a sense of deep emotional urgency in it. “No, you said, I could...you said I could help...you already said...”

She used the argument of a child, but children use this argument for good reason. It contains the power of spoken word...of oath and all from the innate wisdom that words are binding.

“You said...it was o.k....that I could help...that I could find you an even better one...you said...and...and your word is good Spike. Your word has always been good.”

He looked into her eyes and oh this is what this was about then. guilt.

He sighed. Alright. Truth was, he was playing it down...but he was more than a little worried about loosing the amulet. It meant loss of freedom of course...of being in the world...but also there was this issue of being this hungry. Of having to combust this much food to have energy. It was a caution. He needed to talk to Ted Rainwater.

“Alright Buffy. O.K.”

She turned back to the skillets and with a spatula, started to remove the fish from the pan. She took the kippers out of the frying pan, draining them on a paper towel--refusing the traditional English way via news paper with the extra special treat of blood poisoning--and she felt his eyes on her...of course she did--didn’t she know the pressure of his look trying to find his way through something?

Through clothes for instance to the nakedy nude skin underneath. Oh yeah she remembered that look.

He spoke.

“You know you’re confusing me right? I don’t have to say that, cuz you already know, right?”

“You’re watching me.”

“You’re in my kitchen.”

“You’re staring at me.”

“You have a supreme arse.”

“I...I work out.”

“Uh huh.”

She heard him take a breath and move around for a different view.

“There’s a beautiful woman making food in my kitchen after sleeping in my bed almost all night. And I want to know what’s this all about Buffy?”

“Does it have to be about something?”

“OH YES, oh yes it really does. Last time you said anything remotely like that, I got my heart ripped out and diced for good measure. Oh yes I think we should be very clear on that, you should be very clear with me.”

She paused and went inside herself to see what there is and how to possibly say it.

“I...I’m glad you’re not dead...”

“So you’ve said...” He answered softly.

“I’m going to replace the amulet...”

“O.K. Help me fix what you broke--“

“--I am.”

“You’re gonna fix what you broke by cooking food and sleeping in my bed?”

If one considered hearts as a broken thing too then...yeah...that sounded...just about right.

“I...I can try...” She breathed without looking at him.

Pause.

“Buffy...what if I was to tell you...it’s all O.K. Everything is as O.K. as it’s gonna get and there is certainly nothing you owe me, nothing whatsoever...and that by being here, you may be hurting me more than helping.”

Beat.

“You...you want me to leave?”

“I want you to tell me what you’re feeling.”

“It makes me sick to think of you going through all that...pain...alone--“

“--T’wasn’t alone”

“I would have dropped everything to come help you.”

Silence.

“I would have.” She repeated simply.

Spike hung his head and spoke softly: “Buffy...you keep telling me what you’re thinking...not what you’re feeling...what do you want?”

She wiped her hands a towel and began as best she could.

“It feels good to be near you...It calms me down. I feel better...”

“So you’re here cuz it makes you feel good.”

“I...yes and...”

“And?”

“And I don’t want you to be alone...”

“What do you feel...what do you want Buffy for you?” His voice was soft but relentless as moving water.

She swallowed, she was going in...

“I want to be with you...”

They regarded each other in silence. In peace.

“Well, all right then...”

That social task completed (only to raise more questions but Spike could table them for now. Buffy could only bear the burden of a few questions at a time and there was still the BIG one. The Angel one. But she was here wasn’t she? Here and not wherever he was and surely that had to mean something,) Spike reasoned.

Anyway Buffy was talking again.

“I mean, I want to help you...I will replace the amulet--“

“--Well that’s a relief...damn irresponsible, that...”

“Yeah.”

Spike looked at the food.

“Almost ready? Oh no you don’t--don’t toss that grease, oh no...see we fry the eggs in that lot.”

“Ew.”

“Not ew, ah!”

“Since when are you the culinary queen of England...”

“Never...never...and neither are you...lets face it you and me cooking is like the blind leading the blind...so to speak...no I discovered this by accident...”

“Kind of like America.”

“Oh yeah definitely a land mass.”

He had heated up the oil and it started to sizzle and pop.

“Be careful...” Buffy warned “Don’t burn yourself...”

Spike just turned and looked.

“uh...more?” And she grew quiet. Hard knot in her chest--quick, duck and cover; she stepped over to arrange the toasted bread on a plate.

Spike cracked eggs and dropped them one by one into the sizzling pan.

Plop. spat. Plop. Sizzle spat, spat, spat...

“It’s just killing you seeing me this close to an open flame isn’t it?

“hmm...”

“Just about want to ‘rest me to the ground and roll me about in a fireproof blanket designed by NASA, don’t you?”

“Just about.”

“Buffy.”

“Don’t you Buffy me. You wanted my feelings to come out well here they come. Blaaagh! Just don’t you dare oversimplify my life or how to deal with the world with a simile or metaphor or whatever about what’s done is done or...or burning your boats.”

“I wasn’t thinking of that one...but it’ll do.”

She walked to him to where he stood at the stove and leaned her head against his back and he sighed, just breathed her in and sighed.

From where she stood behind him, she wove her arms around his waist and made two extra human puppet arms for him and said

“Here let me fix that..”

And she played with the buttons on his shirt as if she was tidying him up for the day.

His laugh was pure and fine and it sent a thrill through ear drums, to brain, to body, to soul...

She kissed his back; just one warm sweet kiss that rippled his flesh and hers.

It felt good. It felt really good to just be in the same room with each other.

Love and touch was the best, bestest healer and how cliché but it clinched the deal.

With one simple act of kindness; and he would never say it, not now, not ever but from inside he thought it; he prayed this:

please stay, please stay, please stay...

For me, for you, for ever.

One for the Team

Buffy had outlined her plan over breakfast. Eggs and kippers on toast, juice and coffee too, and had anything, anything, any nectar, from any Mt Olympus and that counted as heaven too--had anything ever tasted as good?

No.

Short answer. And neither of them were such great cooks so maybe it wasn’t the food--

Maybe it was the company.

So Buffy outlined her plan and Spike sputtered a bit but said nothing letting her get through the whole thing. When at last she had finished all he had to say was:

“You hate retail.”

As if that simple statement would just about act as the best counterpoint ever in the upcoming debate.

“I’ll take one for the team.”

She didn’t deny it just moved on.

“But not all the books are marked--you won’t know what to charge.”

“Uh...brring...’hello’ Hi Spiker, git here in front of has a dusty moldy...ew...” was her supporting argument.

“Huh.”

“It’ll be easy...you have a cake job...so cake...and as Dawn says, can’t stay in business if your not in business.”

At mention of Dawn he looked at the newspaper, all nonchalant.

“How...how is Dawn?”

“Well...you saw her...she’s all grown up, isn’t she?”

“God, Buffy she is so beautiful.”

“She is isn’t she?”

“But who, no, what is that wanker what hangs out with her?”

“Uh...yeah...Scott...”

“A ha see? So you think he’s a toad as well.”

“Well, if he is...I gotta say if anyone can turn him into presentable...it’s Dawn.”

Silence.

“Must run in the family.”

“Someone runs and that’s me. We should get going--you can show me how to work the cash register.”

He sighed alright.

“She’ll want to see you when she finds out you know...they all do...”

“Not such a good idea the day an all, luv.”

Buffy took his hand across the table, too late she realized it was the...diminished one, but she didn’t care...jump.

‘They wanna help...they wanna help you...it’s not...charity or whatever...it’s the way it works.”

He looked down but squeezed her hand back.

“Lets hear what Ted says. He’s out on the reservation, walking about, so it may take a day or two to get back to me. I don’t want to do a glamour...drains me--gives me a black...buzzy feeling.”

“O.K. just think about it and remember when the Scoobies get moving--we’re like force of nature.”

“Tsunami...” Spike muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Sssochso, emmi...” Spike cleared his throat coughing.

“Uh...yeah...”

For a herd they sure walked casual like.

They stayed loosey, loose the goose, walking easy, each looking in a different direction as if they could barely comprehend how they found themselves to be within four feet of each other.

All happenstance but strategy too. Hanging free enough to be almost strangers but still rough and ready enough for attack formation.

Scoobs.

“Hey Willow.”

“Hey Buffy.”

She made it sound easy, like it was easy to say, easy to see them all walk into Spike’s bookstore.

But she choked a little and found herself wanting to put herself between them and the middle door that led upstairs. Like a full body block to protect Spike if need be.

Well, that’s a funny thing to feel.

The last two days had seen Spike and Buffy draw closer together and with it came the familiar feelings of respect, territory and solidarity. He had let her sleep with him on Tuesday night but not Wednesday. She smiled a little ‘B’ smile when she considered the possible reason and had intended to push the parameters a bit tonight and well...hail, hail the gangs all here and what did this mean?

“Hey Buffy...”

“Hey Xander...Hello Giles, and...is that Midge very unsuperstitiously hiding under an open umbrella in an enclosed establishment?”

“Ah yes...hallo...” The yellow umbrella dripping rainwater shook a response.

Giles cleared his throat. “Ah would that be tea?”

“With a capital Touchable. Crazy Englanders, why don’t you just mainline it and come out of the closet already.”

“Speaking of which...ah...is...ah...Spike...around?”

Giles finally got it out and they all waited all breath all baited.

Buffy pulled herself a little away from sentry duty in front the double doors.

And crossed her arms reflexively across her body.

Body language speaking defensive mode thought Willow.

“We’re here to help, Buffy...” Giles spoke softly

“You’ve found another amulet?...”

“Er...not quite...ah...Midge and er...Willow have a plan...”

“No spells...he doesn’t want a spell...”

“Not a spell...not exactly...and it was Willow’s idea actually...” This was Midge’s interjection.

“Yes...well but Midge gets the credit for inspiring me...” Willow countered

“Not a leap really, you would have found it yourself...”

“Oh no...”

“Hey guys you can admire each other’s frilly new dress later. What’s up?” It was cut to the chase Buffy (she had plans for the evening!)

“Well that leads back to Spike. I appreciate you’re wanting to intercede on his behalf but wouldn’t it expedite matters if we were all to meet?”

“Bloody hell Rupert--how you can wax the car.”

Spike stood in the doorway just outside the middle doors--

--The room was still as they all looked.

“Come to see the train wreck have we?”

Buffy turned and their eyes met for a moment, but it was enough for her to see that he was all right.

Man, she had to admire that about him. Broken in body but he still stood upright, not cowed. She had noticed it before. He preferred not to be seen but didn’t run from it and none of his body language communicated anything about being whipped. No. It was strength. It was iron forged from irony.

He stepped through the doors and into plain sight.

Willow stifled a gasp. Xander looked away out the window. Midge sat in an easy chair. And Giles said:

“Spike.”

Tempt

“Me?”

“Well...yes...” Giles offered.

Spike tried to stare Giles down with his good left eye, but by now Giles was having none of it. He could look him straight in the face

with barely a blink--helped no doubt by the double scotch on the rocks...but still...points for accuracy...and new meaning to the phrase ‘bull’s eye.’

They all had alcohol in hand, even Buffy, who barely ever let a cold one heat her up. Beer and Buffy and loopdee stoop; but even she deigned to sup a brew...or two...

They sat in a circle or so in Spike’s living room placed directly over the cafe. It was past hours now and Spike had suggested they meet in his flat--and here they were. Well met.

Buffy was looking at Spike, but he wouldn’t look up--he was studying the fine gold border on the label of his bottle of hopps.

So she asked for him.

“O.K. just go through it one more time.”

Giles looked at Willow. She was sitting on the couch next to Midge, just adjacent to where Xander sat in a straight back chair by the window, as if he was on sentry duty over the street.

Giles was in the green leather arm chair by the television, and Spike sat in the overstuffed chair closest to the kitchen. Buffy intermediately stood and paced or sat on the dining room chair pulled up next to Spike.

Willow began.

“Well, we have everything already, the Seal of Ohm...I got it drawn out on my living room floor and it’s only missing two small pieces of information to be fully active--and Giles will pull his piece from the akashic records just before the ceremony, and Midge will intuit hers--and they will both be placed with our backs turned so no one has exclusive knowledge of the totality of the...thing...”

And here she made her voice light, “And then...you know...someone can access the...uh cosmic court of law.”

“To do what?” Asked Spike simply. No malice just an honest question.

“Leniency.” This came from Buffy. He looked at her. And Xander added softly.

“We can ask that somebody cut you some slack.”

Willow took up the proposal. “You can ask for...what is it--“

“--Mercy?” Spike suggested softly.

The room was quiet.

“Ducks...this...what I am now--is mercy. I may pipe and complain now and again--but it’s true. I have been granted mercy...that amulet is my leniency. It’s already done. Haven’t you lot leaned anything from Moses little gaff? You don’t go banging on a rock twice. Not good.”

Silence as Spike thought.

“I...appreciate it...I really do...more than I could find the words for...but...what I said to Giles and Buffy that first night, what Willem said still holds for me. I wouldn’t use the seal for me, family, love or the world. Some things in nature just have to take its course. There’s consequences.”

“Even if it kills you?” It was Buffy speaking; very, very soft but it stilled the room.

They waited for an explanation, instead Buffy asked Spike directly.

“You’re getting weaker aren’t you? You’re eating all this food...but...it’s like not working or something is it?”

“What’s this?” Giles asked

“He fainted this morning. Said he was lightheaded and...hungry...but he’s been eating all the time.”

No way round this outside leaving the room, and maybe just maybe someone might have an idea.

Spike spoke:

“It...the amulet...it’s odd...it’s takes a lot of my energy to work it, to project the image and the drain puts me equal with a human, say...but it also feeds me at the same time.”

“A lodestone.” Offered Midge.

“Oh...yeah...sure...” Agreed Willow.

“But why aren’t you stronger without it?” Xander asked

“I am.” Spike rejoined and then as an example he picked up a spoon from his plate and bent it easily.”

“Whoa.” Xander admired. “Uri Gellar’s wet dream.”

Small chuckle ran around the room.

“And hey! Does that make you some kind of super hero or something? Like Spiderman?” Continued Xander.

“No, more like The Mask...“ Willow’s voice died down to a dribble stop.

Beat of silence and then...

“So you have...like vamp strength...without the amulet...” puzzled out Buffy.

“Sure, pet...can’t never be more or less than what you are...just re arranged. Physics or some such rot.”

“Law of relativity--” Suggested Willow and Xander picked up the thought--

“--Uh huh...so you got vamp strength without it...you’re just--”

“--Starving to death.” Giles said.

Buffy’s face went white; news that blanched better that bleach.

“I’m...sure it’s not that bad...” Willow suggested after noting Buffy’s reaction. “I’m sure...”

“--Spike will let go of his pride long enough to step onto the seal and ask for help--possibly full restitution of your physical body.”

There it was.

Temptation.

And if that wasn’t enough Giles added, “I’m sure you wouldn’t want Buffy feeling responsible for you starving to death.”

Low, Rupert very low.

Spike leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment and then asked.

“How would it work?”

Midge stepped up.

“We need four corners as we did before--it would be myself as Soprano, Giles as Tenor, Willow Contralto...and Buffy would be your base...if she agrees.”

“Me? I’m not magical.”

“Not as such...but you could ground Spike, you do ground him, you are family to him, you are powerful to him and that would make you powerful in the configuration. That’s the team. Spike you would be in the center...and well...you know the request. Full reconfiguration for time and services rendered. Payment for service is a law.”

Midge looked around the room put her beer down and then burped, but talked through it: “Cooouuuld work....should work...you are very hard on yourself Spike...personally I think the scales have shifted to your side these past years, what with the quiet service you’ve been providing for these....people, around here...the writers...I think it could work.”

Beat.

“I need to think about it.”

“Spike, the Venitian eclipse is tomorrow.” Willow didn’t need to say anymore. Just that.

“Willow could you recreate the Seal of Ohm here on the floor?” Xander asked.

“Well...yeah...I guess...my house is clean though...” She seemed reluctant. “What do you think Midge?”

“Well...haven’t you ever noticed how good a library feels? Or a...book store?”

Giles cleared his throat as if this proved every point he ever dotted on an I.

“If I started now...I could get it done by midnight.”

They all looked at Spike.

He shrugged.

“Never stood opposed to a little graffiti.”

Willow finished sometime after one o’clock. Spike offered her the couch...but she declined. She wanted to stretch out in a nice comfy motel bed and maybe get up and see Hadrian’s wall with the sunrise. The morning sun always helped clean her out (and detox her) she didn’t add, didn’t needn’t tell anybody how much work she still put in every day in staying straight.

Buffy had ordered pizzas for dinner for them all, and Willow picked up a piece and munched quietly while considering the seal.

Buffy came up and stood beside her.

‘Thanks Will...for not taking no for an answer...for coming up...I was running out of phone calls to far places.”

“Why doesn’t he want us to help him?”

The question was a simple one and the answer so complex that Buffy barely believed she understood it all.

“I’m not really sure...habit maybe...he’s been so used to looking after himself these last seven years...pride...”

“I’m doing this for me too you know...” Willow said softly staring at the seal. Buffy waited for her to continue.

“If it helps, tell him, I’m doing this for me too...I want to know...I want to feel it again...white magic...”

Willow’s eyes got a bit teary and impulsively Buffy hugged her.

There was a honk from the street.

“Gotta go...taxi time...goodnight Buffy...night Spike!” She called out as she went through the door. “No more beer, no more alcohol. It’s past midnight...”

“Ta, Red ...” He called from the kitchen.

And then she was gone.

Buffy picked up the pizza boxes and padded softly to the kitchen. Wordlessly she put the contents in the fridge.

She said without looking at him.

“I don’t wanna sleep on the sofa tonight.”

Spike leaned against the counter and watched her, his eyes growing soft.

She turned to look at him eyes connecting world falling away, away, who needs the Seal of Ohm, heaven was right here tucked inside his eyes and now she was too.

“Buffy...where’s Angel?”

“California. Cordy woke up from her coma, and he went back to L.A.”

Silence.

They looked at each other until he looked down.

“I suppose you’re wondering if that makes you second choice or something.”

“Actually my mind went blank for a moment, just for a moment I was blessed by thinking absolutely nothing.”

Well what could she say to that?

Nothing...action is what’s called for...

She relaxed immediately and he could tell she wanted to hug him and was trying to figure out how to do it--when he made to leave she just simply grabbed him in a bear hug and wouldn’t let go.

Even though he knew she had been preparing to pounce on him he was still a little unprepared, emotionally that is. She pressed her body into his, and all the cracks and missing places in his life were suddenly filled with her warmth. She let her love find its way into him like gentle fingers trying to tuck in the untidy. He felt her heart open right there next to his and felt one, just one moment of choice of maybe ‘no’...but only a fool would turn from such a gift...or only a fool would accept it. Difficult to tell at this point of the story which kind of fool he ought to be.

Just too lonely, too many years of lonely...he slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, his left hand pressed against the small of her back.

He buried his face in her neck and they held each other like that, breathing in each other until words and the world went away.

Her hand gently stroked the scarred flesh of his forearm...and remarkably it wasn’t repulsive...it couldn’t be...it was him...him under there...she could feel the depth and breath of him

Alive.

“Alive...” she whispered

She focused all her attention on her fingertips, on the whisper touch love of skin to skin...

“Let me love you Spike...other stories would make us wait, make us...pretend we didn’t want each other, make misunderstandings get so bad it all falls apart, and I’ve done that I’ve been there...”

She gently worked her hand under his t shirt sleeve to touch him there...she felt like a little girl growing giddy by plucking wild berries...each touch as resounding and plump as a berry she plopped into her mouth bittersweet. Scarred flesh but Spike too. Touch...touch...pick and pluck

He seemed mesmerized, eyes half shut and glazed under her skimming finger kisses.

His breath was catching in hitches...

“Don’t leave me...please don’t push me away...” Her hands on instinct found the clog in his chest the deep sob of a decade of loneliness. She leaned into his body as she stroked his chest...and felt the sob rise beneath her fingers...

“Buffy...you’re going to drive me mad...” His voice hitched

“No...no...never...I’ll drive you to the store, I’ll drive to hither and yon...wherever in England that is...but I’ll never drive you mad...”

She whispered kissed it against his left ear...”Never mad....please...and...and we’ll never get mad at each other...ever again...it just hurts too much...didn’t you feel how much it hurt? Like something tearing...”

He nodded against her throat.

Her right hand had just discovered his left breast, found his nipple and his pounding heart. That thing was happening again. That disappearing consciousness and pretty soon they would be out of control in the old way but new too...

“It’s o.k...if you can’t....” Buffy spoke low eyes down. and smiled a little to lighten “it’s not like we’ve never been...creative before...”

Spike stilled under her hands and she thought for a moment maybe she went too far, said it wrong...

“Please don’t be mad...don’t send me away...we can just hold each other too...”

What was she was saying?

“You think I can’t make love to you...”

“I know you can make love to me...I want you to...love to me...I well...I don’t know...Willem put me off --maybe the fire...”

“Oh..”

She buried her face in his neck...

“I swear to god, I don’t want anyone else...I’ve been looking for a man for years, I’ll admit it--but when it got real bad, needing somebody...when I was really ready...I started dreaming of you, seeing you everywhere...and it made me so confused cuz why should it be you I thought you were gone and there was no way to fix it.”

Buffy spoke in a rush had to get it all out at once.

“And maybe it was you because we never finished our story...it got cut off at the good part. Everything else in my life has rounded out...but you...don’t...don’t you wanna see how it ends?”

“Aw...Buffy...” He gripped her tighter and she sighed into his strength.

“Just let me stay next to you...doesn’t it feel so good just being in the same room together?”

Oh, so she felt it too...she felt it too...

“Yeah it does pet, it does at that...”

“That was your best gift to me that year before...you left....just sitting with you, feeling you in the same house...so...so we’ll be o.k...whatever it is...”

He kissed the side of her head, and she felt the warmth of it travel through her skull and unravel words down to puffs of pleasure. His kiss traveled down through viscera and ended as a dangerous spark in the occult of her womb. She felt the familiar tightening and her legs draw up preparing to open and why not a flower?

He leaned in and kissed her neck and her body jackknifed suddenly urgent...

“Though...sex...good too...”

They looked into each others eyes and suddenly smiled a soft ‘hello there...’

She sagged against his body, legs loosing it...loosing it...gravity, the earth begging her to fall down and fall open before him..

Without a word Spike gathered his Buffy in his arms...and she mused softly from far away...

“How come women’s legs go all jelly, jelly when the big sex love light goes on--but men don’t...”

She felt the chuckle from his chest.

“-So’s men can do this.”

And with that he carried his love to his bed.

He lay her gently on the covers as if solicitous of poor aroused female incapable of running away...well looking at her fairly writhing before him didn’t exactly help him stay upright either.

Eyes glazed she watched him as he lay down next to her, her hands finding the buttons on his shirt...free...free...be free...

He cautioned her just once.

“Not the prettiest picture in the world luv...”

She breathed out “Don’t need pretty...need you...”

And she did...it was not his skin, it was the thing that ran beneath his skin...this wild warm current that went wanderlust in her womb when she touched him.

She had had lovers over the years; well two...and she had found herself desperately groping them both...for this...this...

Molten magnet that was buried there running wild somewhere inside him...and she wanted it too...in her...

Her knees fell open before him in the ancient way and he moaned...sweat Buffy elixir...

He pulled her sweat pants off gently, breathing hard at the sight of her there, sans underwear and already gleaming.

He gently kissed down the inside of her thigh, her body already jackknifing on the bed, already orgasmic before he kissed her opening and thrust his tongue up in to say hello.

Buffy screamed out, arms flailing up and striking a hole in the plaster behind her. Body bucking under his sweet suckling.

As her body rode out the end of the first wave, she started crying bit, just a bit at first but a deep body sob was threatening...

“Shh...ah shh...ah Buffy luv...” He crooned whispered talked into her ear now...his clothing was gone now and she looked at him in awe through her blurry eyes...she reached up and gently stroked his face...

“Thank you...”

His eyes were soft and wide...”Ah...my bonny Buffy...so bonny...”

He reached down and kissed the column of her throat, and sucked the flesh of her neck into his mouth...his chest rumbled into something so close to a purr she smiled...

(Once a vamp...always a neck fetish...)

“Oh!”

It was an exclamation and invitation for more.

He had found the mother lode hot line to her She self and she arched her pelvis up toward his groin...and felt the long hard statement of his extreme arousal pressing between her legs. “Spike..”

He smiled at her surprise...”Yes I am...” he chuckled and she chuckled, so good to laugh, so good...

His teeth nipped her earlobe and hot sweet tongue slipped into her ear as part promise part proposal for...similar doings in nether regions...

She pounded on his back and cried out and he would take that as a ‘yes’--her hand slipped down to say hello to his left buttock and thoughts gone, words, gone now, just now...now, now, please, please now...

He entered her like coming in the front door of the cherished home...easy, full of wonder at the flood of recollect and new too...so easy to be inside and how had he stayed away? How had he stayed away and stayed sane?

“Buffy...” He whispered her name like an incantation as they took their time going from room to room, sometimes fast, sometimes, pounding down the door, most times just still and quiet and small strokes...him stroking her face, her hair...

She stroking his back...and (oh...his skin is smooth and unscarred on his back) and this pleased her, cuz it meant a bit of old Spike had survived the crash to alive.

A bit of the old world with the new...

But now they were moving together again and laughing a bit too and...and........!

When he made his decision it was easy.

It was sometime before sunrise...old vamp instinct telling him so. And it was easy.

He looked at her golden hair spilled out over his chest...early morning light finding the highlights for him. The highlight of his life. Well...that was true.

He wanted to touch a lock...just play the angles in the light...but didn’t want to risk waking her. Sorta had a bit of a workout the night and he smiled at the thought.

His stomach rumbled though and that did it.

He heard a long intake of breath...the one before swimming up to consciousness. Her hand stoked his chest as she woke...as if she couldn’t be awake even in a semi state and not touch him somehow.

Her breath evened and they rose and swelled together on air circulating through living matter.

She spoke the first words of the morning.

“What’s it like being alive?”

It wasn’t what he expected her to say, it surprised him. Well...good. Didn’t she always?

“From before...I mean...are...colors different? Do things seem different?”

Now that she was awake it was o.k. to stroke the pretty girl’s pretty hair. He did. He gave her question some thought, he went deep to find the truth of it.

“I imagine...it’s like the difference of being in a movie...living in a movie, in 2 dimensions like...and then being in the 3d world next door. Feelings are the same...inside but everything is...rounder...like there is more room for...taste...touch...”

And with that he stroked her bare shoulder and when he did she knew...she knew he had made up his mind not to do it.

To not use The Seal of Ohm.

Tell me why?

It was only moments later...but time did that funny long tread loopy thing. So it felt longer.

He pushed her hair away from her brow and smoothed and ran his left thumb over her brow to smooth the worry wrinkle away.

“Red brought you back...she brought you back...and I...had such mixed feelings about it. She brought you back for her, for us, for the world and I fall down grateful and heartbroken every day...for what you lost, for what I gained...just having you in the world...even if we weren’t together...just feeling you alive on the planet somewhere...she brought you back and whether she’s admitted it to herself or not...she paid for it. With Tara.”

Buffy looked down and said softly.

“You can’t know that.”

He said nothing just waited for her to find it for herself. She was an honest woman.

She rolled on her side away from him hair falling and hiding her right breast and finally asked

“Is it the same thing? How can it be the same?”

“It’s balance...the balancing act...one thing moved from one side to the other...makes a hole...and god knows what or who might get sucked up into it. No matter what that witch thinks...I’m way over on the red side of the scale...can’t risk more debt. Just can’t.”

“Tara didn’t see it coming, she didn’t know...if she knew she could have...”

“What if it’s the Nibblet?”

That stopped her.

“Or you, or even Red herself, or Ellie, or Anthony or the squirrel in the tree I feed chips to?”

Buffy thought.

“O.K. O.K. I trust your instinct...but there has to be another way...there is more than one way around any problem.”

He nodded. She said.

“So back to research...we go back to research...”

Spike smiled and Buffy moved back into his arms...she raised her head and leaned in and felt him back away subtly as he realized she was going to kiss him...kiss him on his partially scarred mouth.

“Spike...let me kiss you...you...shy? You a shy boy?”

He relaxed and when he did she leaned in and kissed him softly, butter melting in their mouth warm loving kiss.

“Good morning Spike.”

“Good morning Buffy.”

My Love a...

The idea stared slowly the way good ideas do...then picked up ground and sped like a well trained runner doing what came part natural, part learned and over familiar terrain.

It started somewhere in her heart, began as a memory, a tug from childhood...a doesn’t ‘this here feel like that back there.’

The idea began and she walked slowly to the living room to stand over the drawing of the seal and waited to hear it speak.

It was Friday and Anthony was on store duty. He had been surprised to see her, and oh yes he remembered the blonde who had been checking out their Willem. He remembered her, was more than a little surprised to see her there at the cash register like...well...like she’d been there for a while. She had explained that Willem, was still sick...strep throat...highly contagious and she was store sitting for him but it was o.k. now that Anthony was here and now she would go next door to the duplex and yes the Friday night open mike thing was still on...with Ellie and Anthony’s help of course.

All the info came out in a rush but was still trackable...so Anthony nodded...and then more than a little possessively punched the

button to open the cash box...so he might...count the cash. He eyed her suspiciously. Huh.

So our Willem’s got a bird. Huh. When he falls off the wagon he tumbles with the best doesn’t he then? He had to smile. All right. (Money counted and safe). He decided: about time. Bossy little chit though. He cocked his head to watch her walk away. Hmm.

Spike had given her a little list of prep work to do before the evening and it kept her hands busy so her mind could float free around this idea...this notion...now how to pull it off...without Spike knowing--for surely he would stop her.

She swept and mopped the floor of the little club. Put the chairs down and did the general tidy up. Everything was where Spike said it would be and when she finished it was somewhere around 12:30 p.m.

She looked at the stage area--very clean. There was the lectern for papers, poems probably and there’s the amp.

She walked up on stage and stood in the center of the space...it felt...good...being up here...was it the narcotic of the stage, the secret star that lived in every child wanting to show off.?

She heard the floor boards creak overhead--that’s good he was up and moving around...he had seemed so weak this morning and no wonder...oh my god...what had she done? Having sex with him, did she wear him out? Make it worse? She thought back. No...no...it had seemed to help him, to revitalize him for a while.

Maybe he should go back to bed though.

What should she do? She looked around the room as if it would provide her with an answer and then she heard the board creak

over head as he stopped. What was he doing? He should sit down--she almost went for the broom to bang it on the ceiling as if that would dislodge him from standing to sitting...what was he doing just standing there--

--The seal. He was looking at the seal. It must be directly over her head from where she stood here on the stage.

The Seal of Ohm was directly over the stage.

The Seal of Ohm was directly over the stage.

And the beginnings of the best idea of her life grew and grew and blew full bloom into incredible then credible.

Into a happening baby.

Buffy smiled.

She was still standing there working it out, talking it out with Willow on her cell phone when Dawn burst into the café.

“Where is he!”

Buffy turned to take in her flushed face and tousled hair, eyes wide and in her best ‘tell me EVERYTHING NOW’ voice Dawn said.

“Where is he? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about him.”

“Dawn--“

“--No I don’t want to hear it--where is he?”

Buffy looked up at the ceiling and Dawn took off running out of the studio and clomp-de-clomped up the stairs to the second floor.

A dazed out of breath Scott, stuck his head in a moment later and before she could stop him--he was off following the sounds of shrieks.

“Buffy you still there?” It was Willow’s disembodied voice seeking her attention.

“You hear all that Will--“

“Cleopatra on her barge on the Nile 2,000 years ago in time--could hear that.”

She listened to sounds of clumping and then stillness. Oh. Scott just arrived upstairs. One explanation would only lead to another...and this could be interesting.

“Ah Will, well at least I know what can keep him distracted until tonight.”

Crash of something...fell. What was going on up there?

“Hold still you big baby...”

“Well...don’t be rubbing it in then...”

“Its iodine...I don’t rub it in...it...rubs itself in...well...you know what I mean... “

Dawn was standing behind him; thank god she was standing behind him because she needed a moment to catch her breath or rather to start breathing because now her lungs really were insisting upon having their petition for a little oxygen pass through committee of Stun Shock and Horror.

The lobbyists won and lungs and body were grateful as she slowly sucked in the much needed air.

“Sorry Nibblet...”

“Oh complain all you want...it does sting I guess--“

“No...I mean...for scaring you...”

Pause.

“I’m sorry my boyfriend threw a glass at you...uh...he’s sorry too...he cleaned up the mess...and I think he’s doing your dishes now and if I know him like I do, I think your laundry will be next...”

Spike made a sound that sounded like a ‘humph’ but then morphed into a chuckle.

“Actually the lad sorta gained my respect the day--he acted fast when he thought you were in trouble thas’ several points on his side--but then he loses one for a ‘glass’. Why a glass? Why not the lamp? Something a little more substantial...a little more truck stopping. Don’t I look threatening enough? I warrant I should be respected with at least a lamp. Maybe even a chair...yeah...a chair...”

“Spike...only throwing the piano at you would do you justice...”

“Been done. Well...an organ that is. And by your sister to boot.” He sighed. “Happy days.”

“Um...speaking of which...uh...no need to mention the little Scott infraction is there? I mean the glass did catch you on the back of the shoulder and after it’s all nicely bandaged it will be undercover...uh Buffy...doesn’t need to know that Scott--“

“--What? Clocked me with a glass of milk?”

“Something like that.”

“S’not my story to tell. To the victor go the spoils of the tale.”

“Oh come on...” Dawn peeled back white adhesive tape and snipped it placing it alongside the edge of the sterile pads to hold the bandage in place on Spikes shoulder.

“You know what I mean...she goes all territorial over you...dast no one speak or act against her precious vamp...”

Beat.

“Oops...did I just say that?”

“Really? I mean is that how she felt about me?”

There was a pause as Dawn gathered herself and then spoke softly:

“Yeah...after you were killed...or when we thought you were killed...and for years and years after...well up to now...if anyone said anything...and it might not even be a criticism of you really more like a comment...like ‘Spike would like that...or like ‘as Spike would say...’ she would jump all over them. I swear she almost punched Xander once for commenting on your hair...well...your old hair...the bleached hair and it wasn’t even a criticism more like ‘I haven’t seen that shade of blonde bimbo since...’ and almost kappow.”

And here Dawn moved around him and where he sat on the toilet under her ministrations to look him in the face.

“But she wouldn’t let me talk about you either...and I missed...you Spike...I know I was distant--“

“--With good reason--“

“--With good reason...but...having you there in the house for most of that year...well it seemed to lessen the urgency to...well...for us to make up...having you there felt like family...like the brother you didn’t need to bother saying hello to in the morning, because he would always be there...and then you weren’t...”

Dawn looked down and sat on the edge of the tub.

They were quiet together for a moment. Spike looked at her lovely head, her shining brown hair like a ring around her crown. Her simple words undid him. Her clean honesty so like her sister, and her Mother was such a gift to him in this moment and to the world at large and small. He shook his head. What a woman she would be and world brace yourself cuz here she comes. The Dawn.

“What a gift you are to the world Dawn. You are a gift to Buffy--do you know that Platelette? You always thought yourself a burden to her...but I’m telling you and you know I know...you are the best thing that has ever happened for her...her very own sister/child.”

Dawn looked up eyes overrun with tears. “That doesn’t equate! I’m trying to tell you something about you...about how I feel and you turn it into being about me...that doesn’t equate!”

“Sure it does.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“It does you know.”

“Na uh.”

They would be all right they had found their way back into their best rhythm.

“It does you know--it’s physics...you Summers women always have brought out the best in me...and so...ergo...if you are seeing something nice or whatever in me...you are seeing yourselves all there in the shiny bit...see? Physics.”

“That is subjective...totally subjective reasoning...”

“Tis not.”

“Tis so--I mean it is so--and learn the Kings English for gods sake--you live in a whole country full of English speaking people and hardly anybody speaks it...whatever...I’m over it...anyway I’m learning a thing or two at Oxford about logic--“

“--Are not--“

“AM TOO! And I know throwing a glass at a poor HELPLESS Spike--

“Am not--“

“--ARE TOO. Will put Scott in Buffy’s ‘dark looks column for almost adinfim...so?”

“Oi aye, I know the look.”

“So you know...”

“So...you...love the lad?”

Spike tested carefully almost fearful of a yes or a no and couldn’t say really what scared him more about loosing his Nibblet to some randy bloke, or love, love the real thing and part of her gone forever and tied up in him. HE who throws glasses at poor gimpy (well overstrong really but thas’ not the point HE didn’t know that) scarred for life war veterans.

Dawn leaned in and looked, concentrated on looking into Spike good left eye.

“I do...Spike...way back when...I saw the way you used to look at Buffy...it...was like...watching the heart of the world...what it’s really all about...the whole messy whatever made sense when I saw you look that way. And somewhere, maybe not the complete thought maybe that came later...but it felt something like...ah yes...that’s why we’re here...that’s how good life can be...not to suffer...just turn around when someone looks at you like that...and maybe say...’yes’”

Spike looked down--didn’t know if he could bear to hear this.

“And I thought...if I ever, ever got that lucky...if anyone ever looked at me anything like that...I’d try...maybe it wouldn’t be right in the long run...but I’d try...and when I look at Scott it’s like a...little bit of heaven has taken the trouble to come down and shine at me from right there in his eyes and all I need to do is say...yes...and how well...very rude and ungrateful...if I don’t...”

They sat quietly for a moment, Dawn’s hand resting on Spikes knee.

“So...how old/wise does this Key thing make yourself?”

Dawn laughed.

“Wise enough to learn the lesson the first time around.”

“Lucky, bonny, lass...”

“Am not.”

“You are too.”

“See? Now that’s proper English--I’m so excited for you Spike.”

He humped, but said nothing, only reached out slowly with his good left hand to stroke the shiny hair.

“My Nibblet...”

Dawn started to cry.

And so Spike and Scott were left in each others uneasy company when Dawn went downstairs to check on Buffy and stuff.

As Dawn had conjectured...Scotts apology was all about action. He may be mightily sparse with the words but could definitely turn a

deft hand to the tidy up.

Spike eyed him sharply and enjoyed (probably a little too much) Scott squirm and could see him really, really trying not to grasp one hand with the other in an almost Uriah Heep ‘so umble mi lord...so very umble’ gesture.

Well...good for him for standing up under Spike gaze; which he knew to be quite formidable...indeed.

And more than meeting Giles or Xander, Scott quite definitely got the impression that he was now under the scrutiny of ‘the man of the family.’ Plus he had chucked a glass at his blind side--that’s gotta piss a bloke off. (Wince...and what a blind side)

But after washing the dishes, doing two loads of laundry, then washing the kitchen floor, the dining floor and the living floor--except for the verrry curious pentagram type graphic painted...this he sidestepped with the mop...and now he was up against the

wall...not with force or words or accusation just ‘the look’ from ‘the man’ and the question behind it. ‘Who are you to me?’

With sudden insight, Scott realized...maybe this Spike character was enjoying the effect his scars had on people just a little too much and maybe just maybe he had found a way to turn it from blight into a weapon.

Those hot hard eyes that asked:

“Who are you to me?”

Well...he had a few questions of his own.

“Was’ the draawthing on the floor for?” Scott asked suddenly in his brougue and looked the scarred man in the eyes...well...er...eye.

Spike almost smiled.

“You shouldn’t ask a question unless you really want an answer--you really want to know? Cuz one answer might lead to a new question and then there it is...all undone and nothing is ever gonna unring that bell. So, you really want to know?”

Scott walked over to the painting and stood looking at it, and ran his hand through his bright red hair. His uncle was a bit of a mystic and had taught Scott a thing or two plus he had his own instinct to boot...and the odd painting...didn’t feel bad...on the contrary...felt almost sweet..

But this is what he said to what (felt like) the head (male head that is) of the house he hoped to marry into.

“And you would just love to tell me wouldn’t you? Scccrrare me with the family secrets mebbee? Rrrun me off with the spilt milk?”

Spike was surprised, the lad surprised him. But he said this to cover while he thought it out.

“What is it with you and laying waste to the dairy?”

“Harbinger maybe...maybe, maybe...it’s not me at all...just something that needs to be done...”

Spike moved around to get a closer look at the tall lad. At Dawns pick of the human litter. Hmm maybe.

“You aren’t one of those ‘destiny;’ blokes are you? Son of a Laird and laud it over all...”

“No...no, just a plain Scot...so give it to me plain...try to chase me off...you know you want to...”

Now Spike did smile.

It was the smile of every Father/Brother throughout time and beyond and he had heard what his Dawn had said, he had...but still...this was a male thing--had to see if the lad would stick, to see what he was made of, in short...it had to be done.

“You better sit down lad.”

“I’ll take it standing.”

“Uh huh...we’ll see...”

Spike made himself comfortable in his easy chair and began.

Scott found himself sitting soon after, head in his hands somewhere after: Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s first battle with Spike the Vampire aka William the Bloody...and weeelll, well before ‘Dawn the Key.’

All in a days work.

Dawn returned two hours later a thoughtful smile on her face at the thought of Buffy’s plan and a little relieved too because, Spike...well he wasn’t looking so good and Scott should never have been able to nail him with that glass, so she was very pleased to know Buffy had matters well in hand and now she herself was already busily hatching and developing her part in it when she walked into the living room of Spikes flat to find them both stone still.

It was perfectly still, a perfect still life...well except for the three empty beer bottles at the side of Scott’s chair. And the measly one bottle still in Spikes hand.

“Uh...I don’t see a football game on...what else would keep two grown men in the same room long enough to drink many bottles of beer with only conversation to sustain and entertain...hmmm?”

Spike looked up at her a little guiltily.

She looked at Scott’s downcast head.

“Spike...” Dawn was stunned...conversation indeed...it looked like the aftermath of a HUGE BIGTIME CONVERSATION.

“You...told...you told him didn’t you? How could you do that?” She stopped suddenly hoping for damage control: “How much did you tell him?”

“There’s more?” Scott asked almost nonplussed at this point.

“No...” She said hurriedly then stopped: “Wait...” Dawn looked sharply at Spike, “Is there? Is there more?”

“No...well...there’s always more but not really...pretty much hit the highlights...s’pose.”

“Spike...that was for me to tell him...”

“When?” It was the simple question from Scott.

“When...it was right...Spike shouldn’t have--“

“--I asked him to...”

And here Dawn wheeled on Spike: “And since when do you ever do what people ask you to?”

“Sorry Nib...it seemed like the right thing at the time...and then once begun...couldn’t undo...”

Pause.

Dawn looked at Scott...”Should...should I be scared?”

He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes full of fear; Dawn’s heart shrank at the sight.

Scott began tremulously, a man on the verge of losing his life’s best blood.

“I knew it...somewhere inside...I knew you were special, extraordinary even...but...” and here his head bowed as if under a heavy weight. “But at least it was an ordinary kinda extraordinary...”

Oh no, no, no

Dawn had to ask she always cut to it.

“You...you...afraid of me? You don’t want me?”

Scott looked up quick at her at that. “Ah no lass, no...I’m... afraid...why...why would YOU ever...want...me?”

Dawn flew into his arms at that and the force of her almost knocked the chair back. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight but said nothing. After a moment Scott wrapped his arms around her and stoked her back as they leaned into each other rediscovering home away from home.

After a bit Spike cleared his throat.

“So...uh...all’s forgiven then? Happy end an all makes everything right?”

Dawn and Scott turned as one to look at him.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You owe me one Spike bigtime...but...” and here Dawn thought quickly. “But...relax...cuz...you can repay me tonight, by coming with Scott and me to the open mike.”

“Nib, I can’t put on the glam’ it weakens me, gives me a black buzz...and...can’t afford to waste the energy--not doing too good right now...“

Spike admitting to weakness sent a shiver of fear through her but she trucked on.

“--Won’t have to. We’ll sit way, way in the back, in the dark...we’ll come through the back way, through the storage, Buffy showed me...”

“Speaking of which where is she?” He asked almost a little wistful. He was missing his Buffy.

“She is getting ready to do the open mike.”

“Yeah I know...she’s doing the clean up--should be done by now.” And here he looked a little wistfully at the door.

Dawn ignored his sub text plea for her to go find her sister and responded brightly.

“No...more than that, she’s busy--you simply gotta be there for this...it’s gonna be a ‘see to believe’ and you know it would mean so much to her...Spike...Buffy is going to perform.”

Safe to say Spike’s jaw did the drop and hang.

My Love A Blue, Blue Rose

Buffy had to hide from him for the rest of the day. She was afraid that if he saw her, looked into her eyes, with that uncanny knack he had he would guess something of what she was planning...as it was she could feel him, feel his pull, feel him call her almost all that late afternoon. And she sent him comforting thoughts which helped, but he was feeling lonely and a little confused at her absence and that pricked at her heart. Had they gotten so close again, so fast that they shriveled a little when apart?

They had.

So she let him feel, let him think she was nervous about performing and was busy getting ready, but didn’t dare step up to see him and trusted Dawn to look after him and clear him out of the apartment and get him down to the café when it was time.

If anyone was the queen of finesse and finagle it would be Miss Dawn.

It would be all right...everyone had moved fast and all were on board. It would be all right and the big deal of the deed was up to her and just what was she going to perform anyway?

She would wing it. In the tradition of a ‘wing an’ a prayer’--she be flying high tonight.

She was up last. She put her name on the list so she would be last. Giles would perform one person before her to make sure the audience was warm, was willing, Ellie would go next and she was a live wire so that would keep the audience hot and give Giles time to slip upstairs.

Giles sang the Tom Waits tune and the words went something like this:

“So if you find someone, someone to have someone to hold...

Don’t trade it for silver, don’t trade it for gold...

I have all of life’s treasures and they are fine and they are good

They remind that houses are just made of wood...”

What makes a house grand ain’t the roof or the doors

If there’s love in a house

It’s a palace for sure

Without love

It’s nothing but a house

A house where nobody lives...”

Trust Giles to put his finger right on the pulse.

Uncanny.

Spike was at the back of the house, behind the audience, sitting in the dark pinned between Dawn and Scott. She could feel him back there, could feel him smile at the song and want to hold her...his arms were asking her to come back and sit with him through this ode...she still didn’t dare to see him up close but she looked back...she couldn’t help it--she looked to the back of the house and smiled at where she knew he was. She could just make out the outlines of the trio from the light cast from the cracks of the door leading to the storage room.

Yeah there he was and there was Dawn and...and Scott...quite nonplussed...might describe his behavior for the evening thus far. Oz had nothing on this brand of Scottish stoicism.

From what Dawn had relayed, Scott was up to speed, thanks to Spike and here Buffy smiled (thank god) no more coughing and hemming and hawing and finally a chance to find out what this guy was made of. Oh yeah, she was glad Spike had done it--wished she could have seen it. Video taped it maybe for the generations. Oh well...focus on the birthday parties and whatnot for that party preserve.

Scott didn’t know all of it, not nearly but it seemed he knew enough and still he would go wherever Dawn went; to stand between her and the wall. Buffy could possibly...just possibly like him...someday.

Oh wait, she was up. She was up and he was in the back of the house...he was here and waiting to see the show of a lifetime--

because as Dawn had described it to him...he couldn’t miss just couldn’t miss THIS. Buffy performing at an open mike. No he simply couldn’t miss this.

Showtime.

She began:

She felt the warm lights on her face that blinded her a bit just a little bit, just enough to make it easier.

She felt the warmth of their expectation and stepped up and spoke into the mike like a pro.

“Hello.”

She felt the surprise, their surprise at being greeted and then they responded almost enmasse.

“Hallo...”

She looked up at the ceiling and felt the curtain of sweet smiling love reach down to hold her hand...like a girl, like she was a little girl again...and everything was new....everything was possible...suddenly she knew what to say...how to begin. She closed her eyes to find the top:

“I was a little girl once. I wasn’t always this size this shape, although there must have

been even back when I was small something inside me pushing me, pushing me into place,

into my place in the world...”

She paused for a moment...and felt the sound of them listening...they were with her...

She opened her eyes to half mast and let the space inside her, her heartfelt request find its way into words.

“I was a little girl once...and I was small, so small,

and so I had only space enough to hold some things,

certain things

inside me

and only space enough inside for some,

but not all of the world’s ways and so I choose for true.

I choose true. Let lies come later...I choose the way children do for true.

I was a little girl once and when I was, I heard stories, saw movies...and it was easy so easy to know

good from bad, right from wrong and how the story should end because the space inside me only

picked out the parts that were...you...

And you were true...

And when I found a broken bird, I knew that you could mend it

And when I heard a broken word I knew that you could tend it, turn it,

Turn it, turn me, turn the world round and right it but not without trying...our trying...hard...

I know it, won’t deny it, we try so hard because the world is and hearts break against it sometimes...”

Buffy opened her right palm and showed what lay there.

It was the three broken pieces of the sparkling amulet she had given to Spike way back when in Sunnydale done gone.

She moved her palm so the light caught and cut ‘round the room, starting a ripple and gasp as they felt the promise of power.

“Do you want to help me mend this?”

She felt the heads nod but if wasn’t enough. The audience...they were the fifth wheel of the conglomerate. Willow and Giles and Midge upstairs and this the audience down below...the human family, her family, would be grounding it all...keeping it real.

“Really...I can fix this...not magic, not a trick I can fix this because it is the right thing to do but

only if you help--do you want to help?”

“Yeah...yes...right...YES...” The affirmation was vocal now. It was good.

“I was a little girl once and I saw a movie called The Blue Rose--do you know it?”

She felt them shake their heads...but they were with her.

“That movie went inside and found a space to camp out but not campy no not at all--it shared my

toothbrush all these years only to come out of my mouth today. This is the part I kept alive...the hero is in

love with this really beautiful girl...a knock out and she is too she’s knocked out by an illness, so ill

and he is told she will only, only come back to him in the presence of the Blue Rose.

He hits the road looking for the Rose...follows legend, fighting, killing monsters to get close, closer,

closest--AH! He plucks it, yanks it really (and no remarks about hasty Americans either)

and the rest of the rose bush withers and dies...but no matter he only needs one, this one.

He tucks it in his belt, to keep it close. When he arrives back at the castle...BIG SURPRISE...the

struggle isn’t over and now he is surrounded by the armed guard--it seems--the prime minister or

something never expected the lover to return from his impossible quest...and he; the minister as

political coup iconoclast incarnate placed the girl under the spell...but the hero fights his way

through...good on him and--he is just there at his loves side, and when he reaches for the rose--he

pulls out...a headless stem...”

“No...noooo...” murmurs from the audience assailed her and she nodded. “Oh yeah...I agree and you can image how I felt..SIX YEARS OLD and counting.”

They waited to see if the story would right itself.

“You see the head of the rose had been cut off sometime during the fight...and it was gone...and the

bush was gone, no going back to try again...and then the lover remembers...he remembers every

story of effort, great, great effort on loves behalf is rewarded...somehow... in some way...it may not

be the thing you think, in the way you think but always, always something is changed to better forever

because he remembers how he was before his love...callow and...um full of pride and stuff and now

he knows every story he ever heard about love changing stones into tools was true.

Because he sees it in himself.

There were white roses blooming by her bed...he reaches over and plucks one...yeah...thorns

and all...cuz ya know...‘she’s lovely but can get a little bossy and bitchy but that’s the package deal’

and so he says:”

And with this Buffy closed her fingers around the amulet and almost incanted whisper spoke:

“My love a blue, blue rose...my love a blue, blue rose...”

There was an emotional swell in the room, as Buffy felt the wave find it’s way around and everyone jumped on board and said ‘yes’ yes’ here’s our best wishes and round the room the wave went until her heart found it’s way to his.

She felt his shock...and reluctance to accept the gift but then she thought to him, she thought this right at him until she felt him connect to it:

(I love you...please, please don’t leave me, not again...not yet--long life...more love...better world...)

She felt him nod.

He was, after all, a fool for love.

Buffy looked at the audience.

“Can anyone doubt how the story ends?”

She was instantly assailed with different cries round the room, cries of:

“It turned blue--“

“--Of course you git--“

“Give over!”

“Oi aye...give over, show us!”

Shyly Buffy slowly opened her hand to reveal the perfect shape of a really hideous looking crystal trinket only Phyllis Diller would be proud to wear.

It was beautiful.

It was true blue.

The audience roared their approval...pounding on the tables and standing on their chairs for a better look.

She held it up by its chain in all it’s ungainly glory...blue white light refracting and shocking and somehow alive.

She left the stage and pushed her way though the laughing jubilant crowd. Ellie took the stage to round out the evening but Buffy didn’t hear what was being said...wasn’t important.

She found him at the back of the room...watching her approach eyes wide and more than a little stunned.

Dawn and Scott standing sentry in front of him parted and nodded at Buffy with tears in their eyes. They were holding hands and made Buffy cross underneath them like a bridge. Dawn couldn’t resist it--she smacked her sister’s rear as she crossed under.

Buffy smiled at her but said nothing. She walked toward her love with her heart in her hand...

“You mad?” Buffy asked him timidly.

His mouth snapped shut. “How can I be mad at a Rose’s thorns? T’aint natural.”

She sat next to him and they said nothing for a moment and then voice full of wonder he asked/said:

“You...you love me...”

She nodded her head and leaned in placing her cheek up against his. They breathed in each other for a moment; just content to be close enough to hold.

Buffy pulled back a bit to look him in the face as she said:

“I love you Spike...you wanna keep your scars...and don’t try to fool me cuz I know that deep down that’s part of it too. You might not feel quite right unless you’re part monster/part man for a while and sure a hundred year habit must be tough to break but...here...”

She held out the amulet...

“It cost me nothing...no favor...nothing out of balance...it’s precedent...the court has to recognize that love changes...everything...makes stuff...whole.”

She slipped the amulet around his neck. “ Just don’t go bursting into flames again...k?”

“I was told it was a one time deal...no refills...”

He let it fall into place the familiar weight back on his chest. How strange when a burden becomes a blessing.

He adjusted it under his shirt and looked up, at Buffy, at her stunned expression. Dawn was crying a little and then turned around to hide it.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s you...Spike...not Willem...it’s you...”

Her eyes roamed over his face, restored fine and fit. healthy and robust...his hair a dark blonde his eyes back to blue...

Not that she minded any which way he was...but there was something about familiar that was...well...felt like home.

“Why is it you now and not Willem?”

“Huh...maybe cuz I was trying to hide before...didn’t want anyone to find me--so amulet just projected the outline of what I looked like, what I used to look like...better start thinking up a cover story for Anthony and Ellie”

“Hey...we’ll tell them.” Dawn broke in and then grabbed Scotts hand and scampered off to give as good as she got. “I’d LOVE to return the favor...”

Buffy and Spike watched them scurry off and then turned their attention back to each other.

“Hello...” They both said simultaneously and then smiled. Brilliant minds an’ all...

She raised her hand and stroked the smooth clear perfection of his cheek.

He rested for a moment enjoying her quiet perusal...small little warm shivers racing each other toward his heart. It felt so good he had to share it.

He moved to stroked her cheek in return and saw his hand again. “Hello old friend...” he murmured to it; “Time to tune the piano, I see...”

He was trying to keep it light, light....but truth was....the truth was, he was relieved to be whole again, to feel vital, he was close to crying and he hadn’t done that for years. Well, that is, until she had come back into his life.

“You know Buffy...I’m...I’m still a monster under here...underneath it all...”

“Yeah...” she acknowledged “same old, same old...”

He arched his brow at the challenge: “You want me to prove it?”

“All night.”

That was unexpected. He cocked his head and leaned in...what was she suggesting? That he take off the amulet at night? Meaning...at..night night?

“I’m serious Buffy; I know...I’m monstrous...”

She looked into his wide liquid eyes filled and then spilling his love like heavens best idea into hers.

“I heard...somewhere...that I like little monster in my man. Huh. Might be true...that is...right monster...right man...”

She undid him absolutely undid him.

He couldn’t talk, just took her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers.

“Um...” she leaned forward trying for demure, but she was just too straightforward really to be a French word. She softly spoke in Englander idiom with a totally American accent...

“Give us a kiss...”

He did.

Who can doubt the story’s end?

love,

Contact: sekarsn@aol.com Oh yes ma’ dears would love to hear what you think, especially on this one.

HOME