He had brought her home safe and sound, thankfully without running into her mother at any point during the night. It was bad enough that Spike was a vampire and a century older than Buffy -- not that Joyce knew that -- but Spike obviously appeared older than Buffy in looks alone. Granted, not old enough to tip Joyce off to anything odd, not like Angel had, but enough that Buffy's worrying mother would worry even more.

Spike didn't feel that he was up to a Spanish Inquisition regarding his intentions for the Slayer. Especially since his intentions involved quite a few deeds of the dastardly naughty variety. Somehow, he didn't think that the woman who had thought nothing of smacking him upside the head with an axe would appreciate those thoughts.

He hadn't gone inside 1630 Revello Drive, but had waited for Buffy to climb the tree outside of her bedroom window before hauling himself up after her and perching on the windowsill. And despite her playful attempt to shove him off, he had managed to keep his balance. Spike had then snatched a hold of her and pressed a searing, promising kiss to her no-longer-protesting lips, before wiggling his eyebrows at her and jumping off the roof to land cat-like on the grass below. He'd been gone long before she had come out of her daze.

Sigh. And now, here he was. Back at "home," to a mansion that was riddled with nothing but hurt, anger, and betrayal. A place where he should've been loved beyond all mortal comprehension was instead the place where both of his Sires had forsaken him.

He was more alone here than he ever had been in his entire existence.

And he missed Buffy.

His eyes closed miserably as he settled himself back into the metal deathtrap. He couldn't wait until the last time he would ever see this stupid bloody chair again. No more taunting and snideness from the asshole who'd been passed out like a pussy while Spike himself had gotten his spine crushed.

And as if on cue, his door burst open. Spike looked disinterestedly over his shoulder at the furious countenance of his grandsire, then sighed and looked away again.

"Somethin' you want, Peaches?" he asked dully, wheeling the chair away from his blacked out window to his bed. He looked up at Angelus, resigned to the inevitable cruelty.

Angelus snarled and grabbed the front of Spike's shirt, startling the younger vampire so much that he nearly fell out of the chair. "Have you been out anywhere, boy? Anywhere you shouldn't have been?"

Once he realized that Angelus was doing nothing more than attempting to be scary, Spike growled and shoved his Sire away, then looked down at his chair pointedly. "An' where'm I gonna go, you great nonce? The skatin' rink?" Oh, yeah, Spike, that's it -- give Angelus MORE reasons to mock you! Stupid git... the sarcastic voice in his head groaned. Spike ignored it.

"Why don't you tell me, Spikey. You obviously smell like you've been outdoors, and I just wonder how that can be, since you've been a pathetic, free-wheeling gimp for the last three months." He grabbed for Spike again, this time capturing him by the neck and squeezing. "Care to tell me how it's possible, mate?"

Spike lunged for Angelus' free hand, sinking his fangs in viciously. Angelus gave a great yelp and jerked both hands away, before roaring and backhanding Spike across the face. Spike's head jerked with the force of the blow, and he pushed himself away, growling a soft warning at Angelus not to come near him unless he wanted Spike to take off his entire hand. "I live on the first floor, you incredible dolt. The chair can be moved outside by doing this bloody amazin' thing -- see, first, you grab the door handle. Then, you twist it and pull it open. Remarkable, innit? It's so damn easy to just OPEN THE FUCKIN' DOOR!"

There was a beat. Spike was glaring at Angelus so hatefully that it nearly jarred him when -- it wasn't possible. His eyes had to be deceiving him -- Angelus actually looked sheepish.

Whatever. Spike was just glad that Angelus couldn't smell Buffy on him. Thank the Powers for running water and shower nozzles.

"Oh. Er. Right." Angelus frowned at himself, then rolled his eyes. "Anyway. Dru's had a vision. I need to know what you make of it. Not that I actually care what you think, but Drusilla insists." The darker vampire turned to the open doorway. "Dru, baby?"

A long curtain of black hair swung into view almost instantly, and a pair of bright brown eyes peered in at the both of them. Spike's body automatically tensed at the presence of his former lover. Unfortunately, Angelus noticed this and played on it. He sauntered over to the vampiress, placing his hands on her shoulders and squeezing before sliding his hands down her arms to her breasts, cupping them lightly.

"Yes, my Angel?" Dru's lilting voice purred, looking up at her Sire in sublime adoration.

Angelus glanced back at his blonde grandChilde for a moment to make sure he was watching before focusing on Drusilla once more. "Our dear boy Willy here needs to hear the nitty-gritty about your vision.... just like you wanted." Abruptly, he grabbed her by the neck and bodily threw her at her Childe. "So tell him. Show him. Like you did me."

If he had been a weaker man, nothing would have stopped him from filleting Angelus on the spot for his rough treatment of someone as delicate as Drusilla. As it was, he had to gather every bit of willpower he had in him to keep himself from launching a barrage at Angelus and beating him into the ground until not even the pulp remained. Spike settled for a deadly glare. Besides...

It wasn't as if Dru didn't enjoy it.

Harder still was keeping every muscle in him schooled to not jerk back from her when she approached and knelt before him, peering stoically into his eyes.

Angelus folded his arms and watched critically as his Childe placed her hands on either side of Spike's head. The blonde's eyes met hers, then shut instantly -- but there was still movement beneath the closed lids. Angelus knew that the blonde was analyzing whatever information Dru was sending to him.

Angelus still wasn't quite sure when Dru had figured out that mind meld trick, but it made it a hell of a lot easier than trying to decipher her stupid riddles.

A bright flash appeared and Angelus blinked. Funny, he didn't remember that happening when Dru had told him about the vision earlier. He grinned maliciously. Maybe it was meant to give Spike brain damage. THAT would be fun.

Spike's eyes opened slowly, a concerned crease in his brow. His eyes suddenly shot wide open as Drusilla's information processed and he turned to the broody one.

"Acathla?" he spat, disdain for the name clear in each syllable. "What the bloody hell is that?"

Angelus sighed. Nope. No brain damage. Damn the luck. He smirked and clapped Spike on the back. "Acathla, my boy, is going to be our salvation." He held out an arm to Drusilla, who peered cautiously at Spike through bright eyes before drifting over to her Sire and pressing her lithe body against his -- just the way he liked. Angelus jerked her tightly against him, as if there was still room between them to begin with, then glared down at Spike as if daring him to protest.

Spike scowled. Stupid bastard.

"Acathla will bring the world to its knees. And those who are worthy will be there to rule. "His gaze drifted pointedly to Drusilla, who nuzzled against his chest, purring. "Namely... us."

Namely, not me, Spike thought, rolling his eyes as two glowing sets of yellow demon eyes turned to look at him. Okay. That's fine. Just means that Buffy an' I get to stop 'em.

Drusilla cooed as she returned to her human visage, her dark eyes flashing in an instant from demonic yellow, to sultry brown. "He will free us all, my knight will."

Angelus gave a low, approving growl. "That's right, Dru." He shot a look at Spike and gave an evil smile before looking at the raven-haired beauty again. "Now come with me, Childe. I feel the need to relieve some... tension."

As he turned to leave the room, Angelus was hard pressed not to laugh out loud when he heard Spike snort and say, "Of course you do. Like always."

The blonde scowled as he watched the big behemoth's retreating back. Oh, he was sworn to letting Buffy have full rights to killing him, but not before Spike gutted him first.

Painfully.

Maybe with a crowbar.

He was so indulged in his visions of Angelus in misery that he very nearly did not notice Drusilla stopping in front of him on her way out the door. When he did sense her presence, he looked up and met her sad brown eyes in confusion.

She kneeled before him again, her hand cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry, my Spike," she said softly. She paused, then looked down at her skirt. "It is how we were made to be -- how I was meant to be."

His eyes glanced over her for a single moment before he lowered his gaze and turned his head away from her -- and what killed him the most was that he knew she was being completely sincere. This was one of the few times that Drusilla's lucidity had taken control.

Her lower lip quivered noticeably, and she only glanced back once as she stood up and left the room.

Spike sat still in the wheelchair for nearly ten minutes after she left, running her parting words around his mind.

It was her attempt at an apology. It was her attempt to explain herself and her actions. But the truth was that there was no excuse for Drusilla's actions. Her words rang true. Angelus had tortured and molded her into a frail, evil, clinically psychotic child of a woman that was utterly dependent on a sociopath.

Also, she was a bitch.

He sighed and bowed his head, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. Then, deciding not to chance what little luck he still had left on his side, he remained in his wheelchair and wheeled out of his room, closing his door solidly behind him. The resulting bang felt oddly morose, and yet still refreshing.

Like he was closing the chapter on that life.

He drew a deep breath, pushing the door open.

This is it, he thought. He was finally going to get a glimpse of the mysterious obelisk that he and the children had all been wondering frantically about.

Well, maybe it was just him. Whatever.

He turned down the hall on his left, then opened the door to the research lab of the Sunnydale Museum of Natural History. Looking around as he entered, he spotted the huge stone block immediately, along with a young woman cleaning it and the older man hovering over her. The man glanced up when Giles cleared his throat, approaching.

"Er, hello?" Giles asked, anxiously tugging on his tie.

The man closed the distance, his head slightly tilted. "Rupert Giles?"

Giles gave a small nod. "Yes..."

"Doug Perren," the man smiled, stretching out his hand to shake Giles'. Ah. The curator, then. "Thanks for coming."

Giles started when he noticed that he was actually shaking in anticipation, so he returned the smile, shook the man's hand, then ducked his head. "Oh, not at all. It's... I'm flattered to be asked."

"I spoke with Lou Tabor at the Washington Institute, and he told me we had the best authority on obscure relics right here in Sunnydale," Perren mentioned.

The Watcher looked down, chuckling. "Oh, he may have, uh, exaggerated a little." Giles slid his eyes toward the obelisk and gave a false start of surprise. "Ah, is this the..."

Doug smiled proudly as the walked toward the stone. "This is our baby. Construction workers dug it up outside of town. Don't have a clue what it is. Any ideas?"

Giles carefully schooled his face to remain neutral, as his hand tentatively reached out to touch the cool stone. "... a few. None that I'd care to share until I can verify." Even though I'm already quite certain that I won't like it. He frowned as he spotted the etchings in the stone -- the etchings that matched the paperwork that Mr. Perren had sent to him when he'd originally asked Giles to come observe the rock. "You have, uh, carbon dated it?" Giles asked, running a finger along the runes.

Perren deadpanned. "The results'll be back in a couple of days. For now, I'll go out on a limb and say old."

You have NO idea, Giles thought, smirking. "Um, yes, it, it certainly..." His hands fumbled for a jar and a scraper, "uh, predates any, uh... settlements we've read about." Giles looked at the curator and pointed. "Um, may, may I?"

Perren shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

Giles drew a deep breath and leaned forward, finding a slight groove in the stone and scraping the rock dust away from it and into the jar. He stopped scraping when the groove became a very obvious cut in the stone. Giles blew a stream of air into the cut, then took a step back.

"I assume you've, uh, you haven't tried to open it, then," he said.

Perren frowned. "Open it?" He leaned over in front of Giles, his eyebrows shooting up. "Ah, I'll be damned. I figured it was solid. What do you think is in there?"

Giles bit on his lower lip, staring at the cut. He would need to converse with Spike about this as soon as possible. "I don't know," he murmured.

Perren glanced over at the Briton. "Well... I guess we won't know until we open it up."

Giles nodded. "Yes, but could I ask, um... would you wait? I, uh... I'd like to work on translating the text completely. It-it-it might give us an indication of... what we'll find inside."

"You don't want to be surprised?"

"A-As a rule... no."

Perren raised his eyebrows. "Alright. You're the expert. But I'm pretty damn curious, though."

Giles stared worriedly at the obelisk, removing his glasses as a dawning sense of dread sank onto his shoulders. "Yes... Yes, so am I."

Spike was sprawled out in his chair, one leg over the arm. His left arm rested behind his head; the right arm, though, had wound its way around the back of Buffy's chair -- completely hidden from Slayerette view, of course. This wouldn't have even merited a problem -- except that every bit of Spike's body was obviously charged, since his body language was showing just how much he liked being so near to Buffy right in front of her friends, and how much he was just dying to pounce on her -- and the pouncing would most definitely not lead to eating.

Er... of the normal, vampire kind, anyway.

To be honest, though, Buffy's body language wasn't much better. In fact, if she was seriously trying to hide the fact that she was holding her hand on Spike's thigh while trying to play it off as a death grip, then she was doing a really crappy job. To anyone on the other side of the research table, though, it looked like she was ignoring him, while threatening punishment for anything her might say.

The problem there was that, at the same time, her chair was so close to Spike's that 1) it was a wonder she wasn't sitting in his lap, and 2) it was a good thing that Spike didn't need to breath -- because by this point, Buffy would have stolen all of his oxygen. Their eyes lingered on each other way too much to merely be construed as wariness between enemies -- and when they caught the other watching them, their gazes locked; they didn't turn away in embarrassment. Instead, small, secret, flirtatious smiles graced their lips.

And then there was the touching.

Nothing obvious, other than the blatant Buffy-hand-on-Spike-thigh thing -- that nobody else could see - but Buffy would grab at his arm if an idea occurred, or would shove him if he made one of his brash comments, except that her hands lingered a little too long for the shove to be considered justified. And Spike -- well, he'd already been busted once (by Oz) for having an interesting grasp with his rather friendly fingers on one of Buffy's ... er ... parts (which he had since refrained from doing, and which, luckily for him, no one else had noticed). However, possibly being caught didn't stop those fingers from stroking Buffy's bare shoulder, or from caressing the flaxen strands of her hair.

If they were playing footsie with each other under the table, Willow was, simply put, going to freak.

As it was, sitting so close to them, and watching them tease each other right in plain view, Willow was close to hyperventilating from her panic. Were they...? Was Buffy ... and Spike ...? Were they together? Was Buffy dating another vampire?!

Okay. Last straw. Willow had seen enough -- the urge to have an emergency meeting with Buffy RIGHT NOW was too strong to deny.

Waiting until she caught Buffy's eyes, then nodding pointedly between Spike and the door, Willow widened her eyes at the Slayer to get her message across.

Buffy then pulled off, without a doubt, the best teenage deer-caught-in-headlights look anyone had seen in ages. Her eyes grew wide at the realization of how friendly she was being with Spike in front of her peers, then looked at Willow and shook her head negatively. Willow, in turn, scowled, stood up, grabbed Buffy by the arm while giving Spike an apologetic smile (and she was STILL questioning that move!), before hauling the little blonde Slayer out into the hallway. And considering how strong Buffy physically was, and how strong Willow physically wasn't... that was saying something.

Buffy stumbled to a halt reluctantly in the hallway. "What? What, what, what?" she said, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at Willow. The redhead in turn folded her arms and glared right back at the Slayer.

"What's going on?"

Buffy blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. What's going on?"

"Where?"

Willow's lips thinned and she pointed a finger toward the library, jabbing it twice. "In there!"

Buffy's scowl deepened -- by now she was staring at Willow like the young witch had lost her mind, though Buffy was in fact doing a rather good job at playing innocent. "You realize that you are making no real sense to me right now, right? You dragged me out here to Twenty-Question me? Will, I have to say -- SO not enjoying this right now!"

Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath -- then almost blew Buffy away with the rather annoyed Resolve Face that the redhead threw at her. "Let me clarify it for you then -- what is going on with you and the semi-Spike cuddling in there? Are you..." she swallowed, "Buffy, are you... with him?"

Suddenly, Buffy's eyes wouldn't meet hers, and that gave Willow all the answer she needed. Her jaw dropped in utter horror. "Are you CRAZY? Oh my God, Buffy, why? He's evil! Why him? Why would you do this to us again?! And I realize I'm starting to sound like Xander, but what are you thinking?!"

Buffy's head shot up, her eyes narrowed. "Why would I do this to you? You, Willow?" Buffy shook her head disbelievingly. "Do you even know how much of a leap I'm taking by just letting myself near him?"

"But he's a vampire!"

"And your point there would be...?"

Willow's jaw dropped again. "He doesn't have a soul!"

Buffy stared compassionately at her friend for a moment, before sadness took over and she turned away, folding her arms and grasping her biceps. Staring down, she said softly, "Will, that's just it. All that means to me is that... there's nothing there for him to lose."

Anything Willow might have said after that got completely stuck in her throat. Because, honestly, what could she say after that? Yeah, the Angelus debacle had affected them all in some way -- hell, it still was -- but how could anyone forget or deny that it had been hardest of all on Buffy? After all, nobody like to say it, and least of all in front of the Slayer - except maybe Xander when the Asshole Fits overtook him - but Angel losing his soul had been Buffy's fault.

Feeling like a complete heel, Willow looked up at Buffy, apology on her lips and sympathy in her eyes. Buffy shook her head. "Wills, you have to understand... Angel with a soul loved me more than anything. Angelus, without Angel's soul, wants nothing more than to see me tortured and broken before he kills me. But Spike doesn't even have a soul... and he's been good to me regardless. So... what does that say about them?"

She turned and looked into the library door's round window, a small smile on her face. "I want you to come and take a look at this."

Willow inched over, peeking into the window over Buffy's shoulder. And she couldn't help the giggle that bubbled from her lips when she saw her boyfriend the werewolf, and Spike the vampire -- two naturally warring entities, mind -- getting along. They were deep in conversation about something with each other, which apparently terrified Xander, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

Both the vampire and the werewolf froze when they sensed that they were being watched. Then, in tandem, their noses twitched as they sniffed questioningly at the air, before their heads turned simultaneously to look toward the girls. Willow watched in amazement as a slow, knowing smile curled Spike's lips. His eyes were resting firmly on Buffy, despite the fact that as soon as she knew he was going to look, she had moved away from the window -- and he gave her a clever wink. A ditzy, goofy grin overtook Buffy's face, and she giggled softly. And Willow suddenly saw a light in Buffy's eyes that the redhead though had dimmed forever when the Slayer had lost Angel. It was a light that Willow was quite familiar with; after all, she and Oz had given each other that look since the moment they'd finally met, only between her and Oz, it was a little... less intense.

Oh.

Oh...

Wow. Oh, wow. 

Buffy was in love with Spike.

Beside her, Buffy shook her head in amazement, her awe distinct. "He can sense me. He always knows just where I am ... never needs to look for me."

Willow's brows creased as she heard Buffy's words. Her best friend was already so in tune with her brand spankin' new vampire boyfriend that they were as attached at the hip to each other as ... as Willow was to Oz.

The redhead's gaze drifted between her boyfriend and Spike -- who were now tilting their heads comically in the same direction as they resumed their conversation, and suddenly, things clicked.

Buffy was dating another vampire. Well so what? Willow herself was dating a werewolf. What right did she have to ridicule Buffy on her choice? From everything she'd seen of Spike earlier (when he thought no one was looking, at least... and when her fright of him had finally regressed to mild curiosity), the blonde vampire was attentive, and affectionate, and playful, which Willow hadn't thought was possible, since the only one she'd ever had prolonged contact with before now was Angel, and Spike was... quite obviously completely head over heels for Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

For God's sake. He was willing to throw in his lot with a bunch of teenage White Hats who had barely a chance of coming out of this apocalypse alive, and he was turning his back on the ones who were his actual family. For Buffy.

Spike was changing himself for her benefit. And to top that, Buffy was doing the same. She now believed that a soul was no guarantee -- it was the milk of human kindness, their humanity, their capacity for love, their passion -- that was what really mattered, and Spike apparently had all of that in spades.

So if they were fully willing to turn their backs on their original beliefs -- if they were willing to actually revolt against what their natural instincts as a Slayer and a Vampire dictated -- for each other... well, then, where was the bad?

Besides -- how hypocritical would it be of her to condemn Spike for being a vampire, a supernatural being, when Willow herself was in love with a supernatural being of her own? How could she deny Buffy her approval for being with Spike, when Willow could never give Oz up for anything in the world, no matter what anyone said about him and his wolfiness?

A reassured smile finally came to her face as her mind made an agreement with her heart, and her body relaxed. Her desire for Buffy to be happy won out over her worry of what others would think, and she tentatively raised her arm, setting a hand down against one of Buffy's shoulders. The blonde, startled, looked questioningly at her friend, then smiled back happily when Willow threw her arms around Buffy's neck in a big hug.

"Are we okay?" Buffy softly asked. What she was really asking was, "Can you accept us?"

Willow's answer to both was a resounding yes. As she moved back into the library, she paused, and gave Buffy a wink. "He really is pretty cute," was all she said.

Buffy followed her back in, laughing with delight.

Things had been relatively quiet - not quite peaceful - for the last half-hour. Buffy was relieved that her talk with Willow had gone so well, since she had originally dreaded the meeting in the first place. Her hand blindly reached for Spike's under the table, and she leaned her head back against the back of her chair, closing her eyes --

The door banged open, and Buffy shot straight up, nearly giving herself whiplash. Giles entered the room, a grim look on his face. Buffy cringed to herself. Uh-oh. Not good.

She pulled away from Spike (much to Xander's relief, she noticed in annoyance), and went straight to her Watcher. "Giles? Did you find something?"

Giles tugged his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeezed shut. "One could say that."

Xander spoke up, "Well could you explain what one would say?" When Giles turned annoyed eyes to him, he squeaked out, "Please?" At the very least, it managed to garner a few nervous chuckles from the group.

Giles sighed, replacing his glasses. "He's going to destroy the world."

Cordelia gave him a confused look. "Who? The museum guy?"

Spike heaved an irritated breath. "Angelus, you idiot bint."

"Hey!" she yelled, moving as if to protest the word, before Xander grabbed her and jerked her back down to her seat again, shaking his head. "Don't irritate the evil bloodsucker, Cord," he muttered. His eyes followed Spike's movements hatefully, watching as the vampire's hand came down to rest on the back of Buffy's chair, fingers just slightly rubbing against her shoulder.

Thankfully, Willow brought their attention back to the matter at hand with one terrified little squeak. "Angelus is going to destroy the world? As in, really destroy it, not the, 'Oh, I'm evil, I'm gonna destroy the world but not really 'cause I just really wanna make you all scared of me' type of destroying the world?"

Giles stared at her blankly for a moment, before just deciding to answer in the positive. "In a manner of speaking. The obelisk I saw tonight at the museum... the runes I've been translating for it... they indicate that there is a demon within the stone, called Acathla. Unfortunately, I still haven't finished the translation, and I still haven't found any books that contain all of his infor --" a loud crack stopped Giles' continued explanation as his mouth closed and he searched for the source of the noise.

Spike was standing behind Buffy, holding a piece of broken wood that, apparently, he had gripped hard enough to snap right off of Buffy's chair. Buffy, meanwhile, looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh. And though it had never happened before now, Giles could honestly say that he had seen William the Bloody looking... rather sheepish. The vampire quirked a little grin and shrugged, tossing the wood on to the table. "Sorry, mate," he offered.

Giles scowled. "You're paying to fix that."

"In your dreams, Watcher. Now, did I hear you right? Did you say Acathla?" Spike asked.

The word yes had barely even passed Giles' lips before Spike began swearing up a storm. "Spike!" Giles barked, irritation clear on his face. "Granted that the children don't understand what half of those words mean, but a little decorum, please!"

Spike snorted in disgust, leaning over the table. "Angelus and Dru are already on the alert. They know it's here in Sunnyhell, thanks to Dru's visions an' her bloody big mouth."

Giles straightened. "Do they know where it is located at the moment?"

Spike shook his head. "Don't think so. I think they just know the bugger's in town. Then again," he added bitterly, "'S not like they tell me much anymore anyway, is it?"

Buffy frowned. "So... wait. You guys are completely serious? This Alfredo guy is really bad news?"

Spike gave her an amused grin at the name change, but shook his head. "Your Watcher already said it, pet. If Big, Dark an' Broody gets a hold of this bastard, it's good-bye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester bloody Square."

Buffy stared at him in total confusion. "Um. Again? In English, this time, please?"

Giles snorted as Spike rolled his eyes. "Say good-bye to Starbucks, pet."

Buffy gasped. "No more Sunnydale? No more mall?!"

Spike's mirth suddenly disappeared. Buffy seemed to be treating this like a joke, when it had already been said several times over that Broody was planning to destroy the world. "Buffy, pet. It goes beyond the mall, beyond Sunnydale. If Angelus figures out how to get Acathla, and then how to wake him up -- Sunnydale is going to become a wasteland. Angelus will turn this whole world into a virtual hell dimension." Spike snorted then, in bitter amusement. "And he thinks that he and Dru are going to rule us all when it happens."

There was absolute silence in the room. The amusement that had been gathered in Buffy's eyes suddenly dimmed, and she looked almost sad. Willow finally broke the quiet by summing things up. "Oh my god," she whispered. "He's got to be stopped."

Without really meaning to, everyone turned their heads toward Buffy. She remained quiet for quite some time, perfectly aware that she was being stared at, but refusing to acknowledge it. She finally gave her answer when she stood up and said, "Then I'll just have to kill him faster."

She started to walk away, muttered, "excuse me," as she left, and Spike was alarmed to hear the beginning of what sounded like tears in her voice.

"Buffy," he murmured softly, and apparently Willow had noticed the note of the Slayer's departure as well, because they both made for the door at the exact same time -- Willow just got farther.

"Spike," he heard the Watcher call, and winced. He stopped in his tracks and turned back, jaw set defiantly.

Giles wasn't looking anywhere near him. "I'd like to discuss something in my office, please."

It wasn't a request. The Watcher's voice sounded like cold steel.

Spike glanced back at the door's once, his Slayer's harsh breathing and pitiful sobs, and Willow's soft comforting voice reaching his ears. He sighed. Red was taking care of his girl for now. He closed his eyes and followed Giles into the office, thinking that there had never been a better time for stake-proof vests to be invented than right now.

Her body was shaking violently as it fell back against the wall. Her eyes were focused ahead unseeingly, and she remained like that for what seemed like hours before her legs buckled. She slid to the ground and landed with a thump, before burying her face in her hands as she started to cry.

Everything that Angel had meant to her was all for naught. She would have to kill the evil being that had stolen Angel away soon, canceling his entire existence in the world.

He had come to mean so much to her in so little time... and now, this was the end of it.

So she cried. Deep, wrenching, heartbreaking sobs that consumed her -- consumed her so fully that she didn't realize that she had been found until her best friend ran toward her, sat down, and gathered the Slayer into her pale arms. And as usual, without saying anything at all, the redhead seemed to understand exactly what was going on in Buffy's mind.

As her crying tapered off, Buffy remembered fiercely that behind dual doors sat a new future for her - a future who was entirely devoted to every aspect of her and her alone.

It was time she stopped living in the past -- what she could, should, would have done to stop Angel from losing his soul. Fate worked in mysterious ways, and fate seemed to want Buffy to be with Spike. Spike, who was her present and her future.

She needed to start living.

Giles already had his glasses off and was cleaning them fiercely when Spike finally swaggered in to the office.

Despite the fact that the children seemed to think that he was oblivious to all but the mission, he was anything but. He saw more than they realized. Tonight... for instance. He had witnessed the death of his Slayer as a child, and her rebirth as an adult, because of a decision that he knew was painful for her. And again, he had witnessed the alarmed reaction of not only the Slayer's best friend, but her supposed enemy as well. An enemy who had seemed more occupied with Buffy herself than with her possible death, or a probable apocalypse.

One thing was for certain - he was talking to Spike. Now.

Giles set his glasses back on his face and folded his arms. "I don't believe I have to mention, once again, exactly what I think of you, Spike."

Spike slipped his thumbs into his front belt loops and rocked back on his heels, snorting scathingly. "Don't think so, Rupert."

Giles refused to look up. If he caught sight of the blonde, he might throw caution to the wind and throw his chair at the vampire, but then he would be in the unenviable position of trying to explain to the vampire slayer what had happened to her ally and possible vampire... boyfriend. He took a deep breath, and started quietly. "I've seen how you watch her. I've seen how you are around her. I saw you try to go after her earlier before I held you back; tell me, what do you hope to gain from this alliance between yourself and Buffy, Spike?"

The blonde frowned. "I thought we'd already gone over this, Watcher. I get to keep my sorry hide, and help the Slayer get revenge on the bastards that deserted us." Spike tilted his head. "An' you get your revenge, too."

Giles murmured, "Yes... but that's not all. Is it?"

He knew Spike was playing dumb. He wasn't sure if it was to protect Buffy, or to protect himself, but sure enough, he replied, "What are you talkin' about, Rupes?"

"I am talking about my Slayer. I see your interest in her, and it concerns me -- greatly -- that I see the lust you have for her rather than hatred. Need I remind you, Spike -- this girl is like my daughter." He suddenly yanked his glasses off again and advanced on the vampire. "And since I think of myself as the father she should have had, I swear to God, William, vampire or no, whether it is her wish or not, I will destroy you should you ever lay a harmful hand on her or any one of her friends!" He was inches from Spike now, his menacing blue eyes peering into the stormy blue of Spike's. "Understood?"

Spike stared at him for a moment before scoffing, shaking his head. "You are a piece of work, yeah? Wot, did you forget why I came to this godforsaken town in the first place? I was tryin' to cure Drusilla! Killin' the Slayer was more of a, 'It'd be nice, but I'll get to it when I can' deal, 'stead of huntin' her down."

The vampire began pacing. "I've had about -- what? Three, four major fights with her since I met her? An' I have barely laid a hand on her as is. I obviously haven't killed 'er, she obviously hasn't killed me. An' I honestly couldn't give a rat's ass about her friends, then, or now!"

His eyes narrowed. "Sorry, Watcher, but I believe you're takin' me for the wrong bloke, here. Angelus is the twat that plays with his food. Me? Never have. Prolly never will now." Spike looked down, slight embarrassment clouding his features. "'ve got too much respect for the chit to pull that."

Giles watched him as that statement ran through his head. Funnily enough, though the Watcher had believed that Spike had never had respect for any authority figure in the past, much less the Slayer now, the older (looking) man was inclined to believe the vampire. There was something in the blonde's eyes that spoke sincerity and truth.

And, anyway, hadn't Giles already come to terms with his conclusion that if he pushed Buffy away from Spike, they would only come together that much more fiercer, and stronger, disregarding anything the Watcher had to say?

He had made his decision ages ago.

Giles' head sank and his shoulders drooped. Giving a soft sigh, Giles said, "I hope I don't need to warn you what will happen to you if you hurt her -- emotionally or physically. Yes?"

Spike nodded slowly. "I got you."

Giles looked at the vampire, eyes narrowing. "Be good to her."

The blonde simply smiled, giving another, almost imperceptible nod before turning away to leave the office.

The minute his hand touch the doorknob, Buffy pushed the library doors open, followed closely by Willow.

He stared at her longingly - there was no way he had seen anything so beautifully tragic before. Even as her world came crashing down on her, she fairly glowed with the power and determination her predecessors offered her, to be a good person, to do the right thing - even if it hurt her.

He waited until she looked around for him, and caught his eye, then tilted his head, blue eyes concerned and questioning.

To Buffy, he seemed to be asking, "How can I help?" But her breakdown had already happened, and she'd already cried through the last vestiges of her feelings for Angel. So she smiled and shook her head at him. Drawing a deep breath, she nodded her head toward the table.

Spike took that to be his invitation. He slowly walked over, being careful not to sit too close to the Slayer, should her Watchers - the real one, and the idiot who though he was - balk at their proximity.

Buffy gave him another smile, this one more genuine, and her hand found its way into his below the cover of the table, squeezing gently.

He smiled back.

She was going to make it. She was going to fight.

Despite the fact that he had patrolled with her before, Spike still felt uncomfortable whenever he saw that stake in her hands. He knew it was irrational, that she wouldn't stake him - now, anyways - but he also knew that, not too long ago, they hadn't really liked each other much and had really, really wanted to put the kibosh on the other's life.

This time, tonight, however, was a different matter entirely. He wasn't uncomfortable - he was downright worried. But he was worried for Buffy.

When they had left Slayer Central, despite Buffy's continuous reassurances that she was okay, she had gotten quieter as the night progressed. And though he knew the whole 'I'm a Valley blonde' act of hers was just that - an act to hide her real, astounding intelligence - he knew, he KNEW, that a quiet, contemplative Slayer was dangerous.

It also made for a very sloppy Slayer.

Sure enough, a half an hour into patrol, a fledgling had attempted to attack her. She had beaten it down in her usual aggressive style, dishing out puns and quips with the best of them, but when it came time to kill it, she missed the heart.

Twice.

That alone had freaked Spike out. Buffy never missed, save for the rare occasions when she had been fighting him. 

She had dusted the blighter on the third try, but the fact remained that her first two attempts had failed, ergo she was obviously distracted and not in the proper mind for slaying. But Spike allowed the thought that maybe it had been a fluke. He didn't say anything to her.

Save for the fact that she was walking through the cemetery with him like an automaton, she was otherwise functioning normally.

Until the next attack. And these boys weren't fledglings. They were stupid, to be sure, but not newly raised.

Spike roared in irritation when the oldest of the two attackers thought it was a good idea to jump him from behind. The blonde vampire stepped out of the way, of course, his senses having told him an attack was coming, but it was still annoying that they thought they could just get the drop on him like that. Bloody gits.

He kept watch over Buffy out of the corner of his eye while he beat the unliving hell out of his opponent (phrase used loosely here). Buffy was doing a fine job of fighting the one who had come after her, so he resumed his focus on having a good fight - he'd not had a decent one by himself in weeks.

He was like a cat with a mouse. The other vampire would strike a blow, and would get excited, thinking he had a shot of either winning, or escaping, but then Spike would tug him back into a vicious brawl, as if to say, "This is what you get for thinking you can beat me!"

He had fun with it, really. Spike was working out a hell of a lot of frustrations this way.

And then he heard Buffy's cry of displeasure from twenty feet away at the Fraelich mausoleum He knocked his opponent down once more, before pinning the git down at the neck with his boot. And when he looked, if his heart could have stopped, it would have.

To his utter horror, he saw Buffy's attacker knock her down to the ground, mouth open wide in game face to take his first bite of a Slayer. Something erupted inside of Spike then, and he broke the neck of the vampire at his feet with the heel of his boot before sprinting toward his lover.

"Buffy!" he yelled, skidding to a halt and leaping on to the vampire that had dared to try to take what was his. He placed his hands on either side of the vamp's head, and with a savage, primal roar, he twisted so hard that the head came off and dusted between his fingers. The rest of the vamp vanished, its ashes raining down on Buffy's body.

Buffy's mouth and eyes were shut tightly, her hands up in front of her in two fists - clearly, she had still been fighting the bastard even as he made to bite her. Spike reached down and grasped her hands, pulling her up. When her eyes were open and she was standing up right, Spike tugged her over to a headstone with a flat surface, sitting her down so she could gather herself. On the way, he dusted the vamp whose neck he'd broken, before sitting down beside Buffy and grabbing her face, tilting her head toward his.

"You all right?" he asked softly.

Her eyes meekly rose up to meet his, and she gave a weak, tentative nod.

He nodded his head. "Good." He stood up, then spun around facing her, utterly furious. "Then maybe you can tell me why the BLOODY HELL you almost let yourself get eaten!"

Buffy's automatic response was to jerk away from him, but she still said nothing. Spike stared at her, hands on his hips, and breathing hard. His eyes closed and he groaned softly, before his shoulders slumped and he put his head in his hands. "You could've been killed tonight, luv. I asked you, I bloody begged you to tell me what was wrong, an' you kept saying you were fine, so I let it go. But you're not! You're NOT fuckin' fine, an' you WON'T fuckin' tell me what's wrong, an' I almost fuckin' LOST you tonight because you're so bloody goddamned stubborn that you won't bloody say anythin' otherwise about -"

His mouth was suddenly full of soft blonde hair, and he looked down to see that Buffy had flung herself into his arms. As this was a new development, it effectively shut him up, and he tentatively put his arms around her.

Her body was shaking as she buried her face into his chest. She mumbled something, but even with his advanced hearing, he couldn't quite make out what she said. He tilted his head. "Whassat, luv? Repeat it for me."

Buffy shifted her head to the side, so that her mouth was free. "I have to kill Angel," she whispered.

It dawned on him then - she was being plagued by the thought of killing the man that shared her former lover's face. "But it's more than that, though, innit?" he asked softly. His voice was not unkind, but understanding. After all - he had lost someone he loved, too. "Because you have to kill Angelus... an' it means that you're not goin' to see Angel. Ever again. Isn't that it, kitten?"

Buffy nodded slowly, and closed her eyes again, burying herself into Spike's embrace. He held her back tightly, resting his head against hers. 

"I don't want to be alone tonight," she said to him, looking up. 

Spike looked down, understanding her meaning completely. "I won't let you be."

They left the cemetery in each other's arms.

eight || six || fog home || the naughtiness