Spare Magic Parts

Author: Sarahvampgrl

Spoilers: Set right approximately right now in the series so all around spoilers for this season and others past may crop up.

Disclaimer: I think it's quite obvious i don't own them or i would have all you rabid fans, much like me, beating down my door to smother me with gifts and adoration. You can do that anyway if you want, but you can't get Spike. I'm keeping him chained to my bathtub and he's all mine! Ya hear me, ALL MINE!

Feedback/Reviews: Who needs reasons when ya've got heroin. (just a trainspotting quote, i'm only addicted to reviews and Spike)

Rating: This chapter is a chaste PG-13

Summary: Buffy and Spike are gonna get together. Ya know they are. And if not, well then, they will here. ;>





Spike inhaled her peachy scent as he lay in Buffy's bed. He was almost afraid to open his eyes for fear that he had imagined a night spent welcome in Buffy's bedroom. He had even been a good little vamp and held her close while she had cried. He had a feeling it wasn't something that Buffy normally shared with anyone, except maybe Dawn. Slowly he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He cocked his head to the side and looked down to the blonde head that lay pillowed against his chest. He half contemplated sliding out of bed and going in search of some blood and his smokes but he wouldn't miss Buffy's eyes opening onto his face smiling against her pillow for anything in the world. He gently stroked his hand along the smooth curve of her shoulder and smiled when she nuzzled closer with a contented "hmmm." Suddenly her body stilled and stiffened as she lifted her head and turned her wide hazel eyes to meet Spike's glittering, mischievious deep blue ones, her mouth agape. Spike's grin only widened to show the glinting white of his teeth. She snapped her jaw shut with a click and blushed softly as she muttered, "Hi, Spike."

She sat up stiffly as she clutched the cotton sheet to her chest. Then she stopped and looked down with renewed shock. She still wore her blue top and her black panties. She hadn't trusted Spike to put her to bed and leave her clothes on but he'd been a total gentleman. Very un-Spike like. Buffy's brows kitted together as she considered if that statement were really true. Spike had helped her a lot, had taken unquestionably good care of Dawn, and he'd been a shoulder for her to lean on since she came back. Her eyes were still contemplating as she turned to sit facing him where he still lay, propped on his elbow.

"Hey Buffy," his eyes were darkly passionate as they held hers captive, "It was getting close to dawn when I came over to check in and you were still laying on the couch where I left you last. Looked a might uncomfortable so I tucked you into bed. Then it was a little too sunny outside for my tastes so I stayed. Not gonna stake me now are ya?"

"No, Spike. You don't have to explain," Buffy's smile was slightly strained and her eyes just a little haunted as she wondered why it was so easy to let Spike help, let him take care of her, when it had been impossible to let anyone else do that. "I'm glad you're here. Did you find anything last night?"

Spike looked chastised as he squinted his eyes and muttered a regretful, "No, not a bloody thing." His eyes snapped to her as he continued, "But I do have an idea. Might be best to explain it to the whole group, though. Ready, luv?"

Somehow she felt a little better. Spike had a plan. That was a good enough start for the day. And that's what was making that comfy, complacent warm spot in her stomach. Not waking up in Spike's arms and discussing the plan for the day like a unit, a couple. Not the pleasure of his eyes carressing her first thing in the morning or the comfort at having been carried to bed and tucked beneath the covers with loving care. Definitely not THAT at all.

Buffy's lips pressed together as her resolve slid into place and she bounced out of bed. Time to help Dawn. She slid open the drawer of her dresser and pulled out a pair of fresh panties, sky blue with white clouds. Her hands gripped the elastic band of the black ones she still wore before she halted and cast a look over her shoulder at Spike. He hadn't moved a muscle and his whole body radiated a waiting stillness as his intense and curious eyes fixed on her hips, his lips parted on a soft exhalation. "Umm, Spike, unlike you I have to _change_ my clothes."

Now he grinned and crooked an arm behind his head as he met her eyes and said, "Yeah? Well, don't let me stop you, Buffy."

Buffy was in slayer mode, not secret lover mode as she rolled her eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Out, now."

Spike slid off the bed and frustratedly ran his hand through his spiky blond hair, "Yeah, yeah. I'll just get a mug of blood. See you downstairs." Then he strode out the door and Buffy let a little smile creep across her lips.

Spike strode quickly down the stairs, his head ducked as he muttered to himself about pushy slayers that couldn't make up their minds. He stopped midstep and reared back a little as he heard a shocked "Spike!" followed by a sharp crash. At the foot of the stairs stood an open mouthed Willow and the shattered remains of her coffee mug. She hissed in a shocked whisper, "What are you doing coming downstairs from," and here her voice dipped to a breathier whisper, "*Buffy's* room at this hour of the morning!"

"Don't worry, Red. I was a complete gentleman of the first order. Didn't do a lick of evil, cross my undead heart," Spike said as he clomped down the last three steps to stand face to face with the powerful witch. The old Willow might have opened and closed her mouth a few times in surprise. But the look on the new Willow's face was powerful and strong in her disapproval and it gave Spike pause. Yeah, she had that spark of darkness in her, the lust for power that Spike so easily recognized. Perhaps a tactical retreat was in order. "Right then, anyways, I've got a spell for you that might help us get Dawn back."

Willow's deep brown eyes lost their darkness and grew curious as she asked disbelievingly, "You know a spell? I thought you were all 'ooh, magic, consequences, err'."

"I am, luv. But I'm also a big bad here, or at least I was," he softly amended at her questioning look, "and you don't spend a hundred plus years in the demon community without learning a few obscure little spells and such. Now, how about some breakfast. Wasn't my mug you dropped was it?"

Willow's nose wrinkled as she said, "Trust me Spike. You would *never* catch me drinking out of your mug."

Spike was seated in a comfy armchair in the living room with a satisfied smirk on his face and a cup of warm blood loosely clasped in his hands when the scoobies shuffled through the front door. Xander halted in the threshold and exclaimed, "Whoa, what's tall, pale and dead doing here? Didn't you notice the bright searing sunlight shining outside?"

"Yeah, mate, noticed it as I was coming downstairs this morning," Spike said as he rose to his feet and puffed up proudly, his rounded chin sticking out belligierently. Xander's mouth dropped open and Anya's hands flew up to cover hers at Spike's drawling declaration.

Xander surged forward a murderous gleam in his eye only to find his feet rooted to the floor. He grunted in frustration and waved his finger at Spike. "You better watch it Spike. *I* _can_ hurt you."

Willow, the obvious source of the magical intervention, placed her hand on Xander's raised arm as she cajoled, "Spike has an idea on how to help Dawn."

"So what is it?" Buffy's voice rang out as she moved down the stairs. Everyone turned to her and exclaimed her name in a range of tones of love and welcome.

Giles who had remained stoically silent turned back to Spike, a warning in his eyes. "Yes, Spike, do enlighten us."

Spike seated himself back in the armchair as the scoobies took their seats. "Well, I know this spell that connects two minds, makes 'em as one, and all. See, the last spell just let Buffy into Dawn's head but this one will literally fuse them together. Bit more dangerous of course, but same basic ingredients as the last one. Only needs this one extra," Spike paused slightly in his story, "special ingredient."

"So it's like a Vulcan mindmeld, then?" Xander exclaimed, his eyes brightening.

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes before saying in a flat voice, "Yes. Like a Vulcan mindmeld." Then his brows knit together as he asked with sarcastic curiousity, "Did you *ever* get laid in High School, loserboy?"

Buffy broke in with professional calm, her voice firm as she said, "Enough, you two. What's the special ingredient?"

Spike shifted in his chair uncomfortably as he leaned forward. "Well, it's rather specific. In fact, sometimes it doesn't even exist," he muttered before his voice grew darkly serious and he looked up, his eyes only seeing Buffy, "Blood. From a vampire. A vampire with a soul."

"Not be Mr. Skeptypants, here, but isn't that just sucked up blood. Sucked up *pig's* blood in the case of the only vampire with a soul that I know of." Xander asked in his lilting comical voice.

Spike shifted his eyes to Xander in exasperation. "It's not just blood once it's in a vampire. You could pour pig's blood on a corpse but I doubt it would jump up and do a jig. It changes somehow, I'm not even bloody sure how. But it comes down to the fact that I knew this bloke, vampire bloke, got captured by a powerful witch," his eyes flicked to Willow who shifted in her seat, "who kept him around for spare magical parts. Teeth, blood. Bleedin pathetic _that_ was."

Buffy's voice washed softly over the room and pierced Spike's heart as she whispered, "Angel."

Spike's voice was just as soft as he ignored everyone in the room but Buffy, "Yeah, luv. Angel." Silently he added *the bleedin poofter, always there to steal my girl and ruin my fun, but not this time, Buffy was his now, whether she admitted it or not*.





Cordelia gently lifted Connor from his crib and held the cooing baby in her arms as she ran her finger along the fading cut on his cheek. He already seemed so much bigger and heavier than that night he had been born in the rain soaked alley. Cordelia's hair was softly mussed and her warm skin and glowing countenance couldn't be hidden by the soft gray pants and loose corded red sweater she wore. Angel let the scene wash over him as he leaned in the doorway to Connor's windowless nursury, a small smile playing across his lips.

"Hey, Cordelia," he said raspingly as he moved forward towards his miracle son, "Hey Connor."

Her face lit up as she stood and handed Connor to his father, unconsciously laying a hand on Angel's arm as she smiled down into the baby's upturned face. "Hi, Angel."

And Angel could _hear_ the smile in her voice. They stood close, their eyes fixed on the baby, as they lingered in the soft intimate warmth of the quiet room. Suddenly Gunn's voice broke the familial moment as he called up the stairs, "Anybody home?"

"Yeah, coming!" Cordelia's sharp voice called back as she cleared her throat and stepped back from Angel with a small smile.

"Wait, Cordy," Angel halted her with a hand on her arm, "There's something I want to ask you." He paused and looked down at Connor who was looking up at his father intently, "I want you to be Connor's godmother."

He heard Cordelia's sharp intake of breath and turned soulful eyes to look at her. She had tears in her eyes and her hand pressed to her heart as she answered softly, "Oh, Angel. I am honored. And I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that Connor is safe and happy."

Angel's voice was flatly serious as he held her gaze, "I know." Connor's soft wail claimed Angel's attention and he turned to race down the stairs to the bottle sitting on the counter. Cordelia followed crisply in his wake a small smile lighting her face. Fred and Wesley were laughing at some shared joke as they came out of the basement, Wesley lightly clasping a notebook.

"Fred and I finished inventory. Gunn, what's the word on the street?" Wesley's clipped British accent almost sounded silly asking that question but he had earned everyone's respect as the bossman and someone you want beside you in a fight so no one chuckled.

Gunn shrugged and dropped his battleaxe onto the counter with a thud. "Haven't seen a demon all day, seems like everybody skipped town or is lying low for a while, since..." his voice trailed off as his gaze slid to Angel's baby sucking greedily from his bottle.

Fred's chipper voice broke the silence that followed as she said, "But that's good right. No fightin'."

The shrill ring of the phone stopped anyone from answering. "Angel Investigations. We help the hel- Oh, hi, Willow." Cordelia paused as she listened to the girl she'd gone to Sunnydale High School with. "You want what?...Wow, Dawn, really?...Wait, let me ask him." She pressed the reciever to her chest and turned to Angel. "Um, Angel, B-, Dawn is in some kind of trouble and they need to do this spell, except that it needs this special ingredient. Some of your blood, to be exact."

Angel didn't look up as he answered, "Tell them we'll come." His eyes rose to meet Wesley's as he added, "It'll be good to get out of L.A. for a little while anyway."

Cordelia put her ear back to the phone and said, "We'll come. So, what's new, Willow? Boy, have I got a story for you!"

continue...