Buffy was washing her hair for the second time. She wondered if Spike was going to join her. He was probably going to leave that dried blood in his hair for eternity just to rub her nose in it. She waited another couple minutes and turned the water off and stepped from the shower. She went over to the sink. It was one of those industrial ones, a huge stainless steal model used for washing dishes and rinsing mops. Spike had put a mirror over it as a gift to her after the first time she had stayed over. She looked at her watch as she strapped it on her wrist. 4:45AM. She’d have to hurry if she was going to get home before Dawn got up. She drew a comb through her wet hair, ouching at the tangles. She wondered what she would look like with it short. She wrapped the towel tightly around her torso, and wandered out in search of her clothing.

She saw Spike crumpled on the floor, and panicked. “Spike, Spike, what’s wrong?” She didn’t get a response. She crouched low assuming a fighting stance and scanned the environment for the unseen assailant. No one.

She went up to him, said his name, and shook him. No response. He felt cold and lifeless. She was starting to panic, her breath coming in short ragged gasps. She realized she was beginning to hyperventilate and worked to control her breathing before she passed out. This was just too much like finding her mom. She needed to focus. She kept repeating, “ He is a vampire, he is supposed to be cold. Every time she said it the other side of her mind chimed in with, “ but not lifeless.”

She dug her cellphone out of her jacket pocket, but now that she had it in her hands she wasn’t sure whom to call. She wanted Will. She had a feeling this was magic related, but if she called now she’d wake up Dawn. Besides she wasn’t sure about asking Willow to use her powers. Will had been more responsible lately about trying to do things the mundane way since the accident with Dawn, but she was hanging on by a thread. It was as if magic had seeped into her veins making her a mojo junkie. To bad there was no twelve-step program for the ethical use of magic. So she was going it alone, cold turkey. It seemed almost cruel to ask her since she was working so hard to stay on the straight and narrow.

That left Anya, Xander, and Tara. She knew she didn’t want to call Xander yet. She just couldn’t deal with him knowing the background of this little disaster. So that kinda left Anya out too unless she waited until the Magic Box opened and call her at work. She finally decided to call Tara. Maybe she could figure out what was wrong; even if she couldn’t fix it.

Tara answered with a sleepy, “hu hu hello.” Her stutter always grew worse when she was tired or stressed.

“Tara, it’s Buffy.”

“Buffy, is there something wwwrong with Willow?” Tara could feel her heart constrict.

“Nothing is wrong with Willow… other than that magic addiction thingy”, she paused. “Tara, I have a problem. I think its magic related, and I don’t want to ask Will. Will you help me? I need you to come to Spike’s crypt.”

Tara felt honored and a little frightened. The types of things Buffy ran into required big magics that were out of her league, but she wasn’t going to let down a friend in need. “Sure Buffy. Ah, how do I get there?”

“Spikes crypt is in the north corner of the cemetery. The name on the front is Van Durham.”

“I meant the cemetery. The buses aren’t running this early, and my car is in the shop.”

Damn, I’ll have to call him after all, she thought. “Don’t worry. Sit tight and I’ll call Xander and he’ll pick you up in a few minutes.” Buffy punched in the number.

“Harris here”, he said, his voice all gravelly with sleep.

“Since when do you go by Harris?” Buffy asked in surprise.

“Buffy? Do you know what time it is? I was expecting it to be work. Is everything ok?”

“No everything is not ok”, said Buffy in a short sharp voice. “Can you pick up Tara and bring her to Spike’s crypt? I forgot about you job, if you can’t it’s ok. She can find some other way to get here.”

“Don’t worry about my job. It is pouring rain outside. That’s why I was expecting work, canceling. What’s up?”

“I don’t have time to talk about it right now. My cellphone batteries are going out. I’ll tell you about it when you get here.” She so wanted to postpone discussing Spike with Xander until the last minute.

Buffy returned to where Spike was, still no movement. Shouldn’t leave him lying on the floor, she thought. Removing all the telltale signs of their trysting, she stripped the bed and bundled everything in an old duffel bag of Spike’s and set it behind the ladder. Then she got out another set of sheets from the trunk at the foot of the bed. When she was finished she laid Spike carefully on top of them and gently washed his face. She brushed his hair to remove the last traces of dried blood.

She stroked his face and laid a hand on his still chest. She couldn’t help but wonder why these things always happen to her. She moaned, “ I should know better! Something always goes wrong when I have sex.” She curled up on the bed next to Spike and cried Eventually the tears slowed to hiccups. Her attack of self-pity over with, she knew she needed to get dressed to meet her friends.

***

“So let me get this straight. You and the Big Waste of Space did the wild thing and now he’s deader then he usually is. Does this strike anyone else as a little deja vu? Hello! Same song, second verse. Buffy, what did you think you were doing? Haven’t you learned anything after all this time? You don’t sleep with the undead!” Xander paced and stamped across the crypt. He really, really wanted to hit something.

Buffy looked at her three friends, Xander having brought Anya too. She was sitting in Spike’s chair, her knees drawn up to her chin, her long golden hair shielding her face. Her voice was flat and drained of all emotion. “Yes, that pretty much sums it up.”

Tara spoke up. “I don’t think Buffy needs anymore grief right now. She called us because she needs our help, not to be yelled at.”

Buffy looked at Tara gratefully. She hoped Tara and Will would get back together, she had such a big heart.

They gathered around the bed, looking at Spike. He hadn’t moved.

“Buffy, maybe he’s really dead. You gave him that one moment of happiness and he went on to his final reward”, said Xander in his snarkiest voice.

Buffy gave him a look that would have sent a hundred demons running in fear, but since Xander was confident that she wouldn’t actually slay him, he held his ground.

“Wrong boyfriend, that was Angel”, said Anya oblivious to the undertones as usual. “Besides vampires turn to dust when they die.”

“Buffy said he was fine when she went to t-t-take a shower. So what ever happened, happened later while she was gone”, said Tara, trying to defuse the situation. “Buffy, I can t-t-try to cast a spell to r-r-reveal traces of magical energy. Then we should be able to follow it to its source.”

“I know you don’t want to listen to me right now, but before Tara starts messing with magic, I think we ought to chain Spike up. Given the condition your last demonic love came back in it’s better to be safe then sorry”, stated Xander bluntly.

“Fine, we’ll have to find something to use”, Buffy started to look around the room. “Lets just get on with it.”

Xander went over to the head of the bed and started fishing around beneath it. “Spike has got chains and manacles under here.”

All three girls looked at him suspiciously. Finally Buffy asked what they all had been thinking. “And just how did you know that?”

“Oh, don’t even go there. I helped him move the mattress in after he moved out of my folk’s basement. The manacles were there when we set the frame up”, replied Xander defensively. He fished the chains out and locked one on each of Spike’s wrists.

Tara began to chant, a silvery mist seemed to rise up from the floor. It coalesced around her feet and streamed out from her hands. The mist began to divide and flow away from its maker. A large pool of the stuff settled over Spike, and began to sink into him. Two smaller clouds settled, one low on Buffy’s stomach and one on the forgotten handprint on the wall. A fourth settled unnoticed on the bag of dirty laundry under the ladder.

Xander went up to the handprint on the wall, rubbing his fingers over it and sniffing them. “I think its blood.” His eyes narrowed. He looked at his fingers, now covered in the silvery mist, and then at where the silver had collected on Buffy. He turned and grabbed her by the shoulders, hard. His construction roughened fingers dug into her flesh as he shook her. “Tell me! Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did!”

Buffy was so shocked she didn’t even try to push him away. She stared at him, silent tears coursed down her face. “It was a test. A stupid test.”

Tara stepped up and pulled Buffy away from Xander’s hands.

Tara eased back from Xander until both girls were sitting on the edge of the bed. Tara held Buffy’s hand offering her some moral support. “A test and a gift, I think. Don’t worry Buffy, we will figure this out.”

“Yes, that makes sense, a gift. He’s chipped. There’s not much of a test in letting him feed if he can’t kill you”, added Anya as she processed the information.

Xander had crossed cavern, moving into the shadows. He had to get away. He couldn’t understand how Buffy had fallen for Spike out of all the creatures on god’s green earth. Hell, he knew the guy had changed, but it was all the chip. How could she have believed him? Believed something that artificial, that unreal.

“He can now, or he could”, Buffy told Anya and Tara her voice quavering a little. “He promised. He said he’d made a choice. Said he loved me. Now this happened.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand.

“How? When?” The chip wasn’t working; Xander could hardly force his mind around it. “How long have we all been in danger”, he asked in accusation?

“You haven’t, I have, and since I came back.” Her eyes were hard and her voice was filled with hate. “Coming back changed me, made me a little less human.” She almost spit the words out. “Spike found out his chip didn’t go off, that he could hurt me. Only me. Then he chose. He chose to love me instead.” Her chin rose in defiance.

Chapter 6

Spike was dreaming, at least he thought he was. “Somehow I don’t think I’m in Kansas, or OZ either for that matter.” The sky was angry and red, and the land was barren desert as far as the he could see. Beating down on his body, the sun shown like a great malevolent eye in the sky. It was hot, but he hadn’t gone up in flames. He could feel the perspiration beading up and rolling down his back. He looked at his forearms. A fine mist of red dots was forming on them. He was sweating blood.

He wondered where this place was, and how he had gotten there. He knew he needed be someplace else, but couldn’t remember why.

A woman with ebony skin appeared before him. Her tangled hair was covered in mud and blood. She was neither old nor young, but he could see the strength of her body. Her muscles, well defined, rippled and slid below skin so dark that it seemed to absorb the vermilion glow of the sun. Her only clothing was the tattered bandage wrapped around her torso.

“You smell, Vampire.” She circled sniffing at him. “You smell of one of my daughters.”

Her voice was harsh and guttural, but he didn’t so much hear it as feel it grate along his bones. The sound was ancient, primal. Instinctively he feared her, as his kind had always feared her. She was death; his death, and he knew it.

“Goddess.” He knew the minute he said it he had gotten the title correct. He knew he had dealt with a goddess before, a hell bitch. Comparing her to this one was like..? Well he couldn’t think of a good comparison. Power seemed to radiate off her in waves, and she felt as ancient as the land itself. He remembered stories from youth, told to him by an Irish nanny, the washer at the ford, the goddess Macha. His mind filled with the black wings of ravens picking the flesh from the dead. “Goddess, don’t believe I’ve met any of your daughters.”

“You have known three”, she hissed. “Two you killed. The third you have fed from. She, she would champion you.” Her voice was filled with suspicion.

His memory came back, crashing down upon him like an avalanche of boulders. The two Slayers he killed. The third Slayer would be Buffy, his Buffy. His mind was in turmoil. How could he make this Being understand his choice, his love? Somehow he knew his very survival hinged on it.

She circled closer, lunging every few feet to get him off balance. He tried to fight back, but she was too fast. She lashed out clawing his bare chest with her fingertips. Her touch burned, searing and blackening his flesh. She was herding him, forcing his back up against a monolith of ocher stone.

“Why should I not kill you, Vampire?” Her breath smelled of carrion, as she leaned close, almost whispering in his ear.

“I love her.” Spike stated simply. He had to make her believe, but he felt that words alone would not suffice. He looked deeply in her eyes trying to convey the truth of his words, and realized for the first time that the irises of her eyes were endlessly dark and filled with stars.

“You love her?” She sneered, her voice filled with terrible laughter. Its echo carried with it the voices of his victims as they begged him for mercy.

“She loves me, too!” He raged defiantly.

“You took her. You fed on her. You will kill her.” Her powerful right hand wrapped around his throat burning and choking him. A wooden stake appeared in her left hand, and she brought it up preparing to reduce him to dust.

“No”, he could barely get the word out. “You’re wrong”. “I won’t kill her. Her blood was a gift, freely given.” The Being in front of him began to shimmer as if waves of heat were rising from it. He could sense her in his mind rummaging there, going where the hell bitch had never been able to reach. He fought with all his might to block her access. Exhaustion was setting and he knew he was on the verge of passing out.

Suddenly the Goddess was gone and in her place stood the petite blonde form that his senses responded to like no other. He whispered her name. “Buffy?”

She reached out a hand to touch his face. “You love me?” Her words and her touch acted as a cooling balm soothing the rents that the Goddess had torn threw his mind.

“Yes, oh yes!” He moaned as he drew her to him, kissing her fiercely.

After a few moments they broke apart, and he looked into her eyes, eyes of starfield black.

The Goddess, in Buffy’s form, stepped back and smiled. “Her blood has changed you, and you are hers.” Her voice was filled with laughter. She leaned forward again and captured his lips.

Flames of passion overwhelmed him, pain and pleasure mixed. He felt himself dying, burning from her radiance, and then he was gone.

***

Xander was pissed and disgusted, not only at Buffy, but at himself too. His mind replayed the last things Buffy had said to him before the girls left for the Magic Box.

“I want you to stay here and protect Spike.” Her voice had held all the command of a four star general.

He had pulled away from her. Turned away. He didn’t even want to look at her. She had grabbed him by the arm, using her strength to spin him around. Just to show him who was top bitch, his mind chorused.

“Look, I kept quiet about that Angel remark, I felt like I deserved it, but I don’t deserve this. I know you don’t much like me right now, but you’re the only one I feel comfortable leaving here alone. You can protect yourself, the Anya can’t, and I need Tara for research. Until we know just what is going on I need you to stay with him.”

In the end he’d agreed. And now he sat on one of the cavern’s numerous outcroppings watching Spike play dead. He began talk out loud to fill the silence. “ I can actually relate to the masochism, Spike, buddy. I’ve stuck with Buffy for the same reason. Oh, sure we’re friends. I’m her big brother, you know. But I still love her; want her. Never came close though.”

He took one of Spike’s swords down from the wall, swinging it in the first steps of the crescent moon drill that Giles had taught him. His muscles were hardened from the heavy labor of construction work. He felt as if he had finally grown into his body. With grace and control he turned and laid the tip of the blade against the vampire’s throat.

“What’s wrong with me is that I’m too nice. It must take being a demonic jerk to win her heart. She never loved Riley and didn’t give me the time of day.” Rage washed over him, like ice. “How dare you corrupt her!” He swung the sword up with every intention of striking off Spike’s head only to stop at the last moment. “Yeah, too nice.”

He turned away from the bed, almost tripping over the hideous blue demon that had been sneaking up behind him during his tirade. He brought up the sword, swinging it in a downward hacking motion severing the monster’s arm from its shoulder. The beast roared, and used its remaining arm to knock him across the bed. He rolled over Spike and slid off the other side. The sword was gone. He began looking wildly for something else to use as a weapon when he realized the beast was no longer interested in him, or Spike. It was stealing something. Dragging a duffle bag to the back of the cavern toward the sewers.

He called the girls on the cellphone to apprise them of the latest. They returned in Anya’s little red two-seater that they had driven that morning. Upon arriving it gratified him the way Anya immediately ran to him checking him over to see if he was all right. Then she oh-ed and ah-ed over his bravery and daring at hacking off the monster’s arm. She could make him feel so good about himself, he thought. It was one of the reason’s he loved her so.

“We got the books from the shop. I think the best thing will be to take Spike back to my house, and get into research mode.”

They hauled Spike out to the car rolled in a blanket. Buffy had nearly thrown a conniption when they had finally decided to place Spike in the trunk, but there was just no room in Anya’s car. Buffy and Tara would already be sitting knee to knee. Xander prayed that the cops didn’t pull them over before they got to the Summers’ house. It would be impossible to explain a handcuffed corpse in the trunk that went poof when the police pulled the blanket off.

Chapter 7

When Spike opened his eyes the scene had changed. He checked himself over. The injuries inflicted by the goddess were gone. He looked around for the first time taking in this new environment. He was sitting in the fog near the bank of a river. He felt like he knew this place. He was almost sure it was the Thames. This was near where his mother’s house used to be. He realized he could hear someone coming toward him. She was young, and clothed in the period costume of the late 1800’s. He recognized her.

“Paige”, he called.

“Brother, there you are. Mother will be sorely distressed if you take a chill.”

His sister, with her long russet hair and dancing green eyes, alive. He took her hand and felt warm living flesh. He stood looking at her along time. He had never realized before how much Dawn reminded him of her.

“Come Brother, let’s go home” Paige led him down the familiar streets to entrance of their town home, pulling him inside.

“There now, let me hang up your coat.”

Spike looked down at himself. He was wearing his typical black jeans and leather duster, but she didn’t appear to notice or find anything unusual about it.

Waiting for her to notice, he handed her the coat.

“Why don’t you go on into the drawing room, the fire’s all laid out there.”

The gaslights that lit the room gave off a low hiss as they burned. He had forgotten that. The furniture was the same though, heavy, dark, and covered with doilies that the female members of his family had all crocheted. He sat down in his usual chair before the fire. The burgundy colored leather was supple and smooth as he ran his hand over the armrests. He looked to the right of the chair where his journal and quill had sat. They were still there. He picked up the blue calf’s hide binding gingerly as if it would crumble to dust upon his touch. He flipped through a few pages, reading bits with a half embarrassed smile. Gods, he had been a bloody awful poet.

His sister entered then and seated herself in the chair across from him. She picked up the hoop with her embroidery and began to stitch, just like nothing was going on. He watched her quietly, remembering the numerous evenings they had spent like this before he had been turned.

“Paige, flower, why are we here?”

“The goddess sent you to me, William. Why do you ask?” She continued to stitch her needle darting in and out of the canvas.

“But why did she send me here?” He kept his voice light and coaxing.

She glanced up at him and smiled, “I can’t tell you yet.” She persisted to stitch, up and down went the needle.

“Bloody hell, what do you mean you can’t tell me?” He shouted, reaching from his chair to shake her.

“Oh, look what you made me do”. A drop of blood like a ruby gem grew on the tip of her finger where she had stabbed it with a needle. It beaded and fell slowly toward the hearth. It seemed to hang for an impossibly long time twinkling in the firelight before it marred the pristine whiteness of the marble slab. “If you’re going to be mean, I shall take myself off.”

Spike’s eyes had been mesmerized by the falling blood. He felt as if time had stretched and warped during its fall to the ground. He wasn’t sure what it meant but he knew it was important.

When he looked up Paige was gone. He went after her. He looked first in her room, but no one was there. Then he systematically tried the remaining rooms. All were empty. He started trying the outside doors and windows. They were all locked beyond his strength to budge. He was trapped in the house alone.

Having nothing else to do he returned to the parlor. He made certain the heavy curtains were pulled across the window to block any potential sunbeams. Then he settled in for the night in front of the fire. If he were lucky he would wake up somewhere else.

***

This was really, really uncomfortable. Buffy thought. The five of them sat around the dinning room table in silence. Willow was ticked at being left out. Xander would only speak to her through another person. Poor Tara was sitting as far away from Will as possible and wouldn’t look up from the reference she was searching. Anya was the only one who was acting normal, but she was reading a bridal magazine.

“Look, this has got to stop. I know you are all, except for Anya and Tara, ticked at me for a variety of reasons.”

Anya interrupted, “I’m ticked too. You got me out of bed way too early this morning”

“Ok. Tara are you ticked at me as well? That makes it almost unanimous doesn’t it?” Her eyes flashed as she stood at the head of the table. “I’m sorry. I screwed up. But Spike’s in a coma, and I need your help. I’m not asking you to do it for him. I’m asking you to do it for me.” She looked at each one of them in turn, making sure she caught their eyes. “You all know the whole sordid story now.” She looked down suddenly embarrassed. “I used to care so much about what you all thought of me. I still do but not as much. I’ve changed. I’m not blaming you all for that change, but it’s a fact. It happened, and we all have to deal. I need Spike, and I need you to help me bring him back. “

Tara, ever the peacemaker started. “It could be like a sleeping beauty spell”, she offered. “Where you’d have to wake him with a kiss.”

“Buffy’s a Slayer, not a princess. I thought it took a princess to break that type of spell”, supplied Xander.

“That’s a myth”, stated Anya. “Being raped is what awakened the real sleeping beauty. Those roses surrounding the castle weren’t to keep the prince from getting in, but from escaping. Those briars tore him to pieces. It was one of my best pieces of work.”

Willow sighed in disgust and shook her head. “Another one of my favorite fairy tales squashed. Anya may be on the right track though, there have been other stories about breaking enchantments through sex magic”, added Willow. She reached for one of the Egyptian translations and began to search.

“I’m still not convinced it was the sex. Spike and I have had sex a lot. My gut feeling is that it’s related to the blood. No pun intended. Besides it’s the only thing that explains why the demon stole the dirty laundry.”

“Just how often is a lot?” Xander raised his eyebrows.

“More then once, and that’s all the answer your going to get”, Buffy replied.

“Buffy, I remember reading about the transference of power through the exchange of blood in one of Giles texts. I looked on the shelf for it when we were at the store, but I think he must have taken it with him”, Tara said apologetically.

“Oh, I remember that one. It was the one Giles used when you became all telepathy.”

“Will, that spell required the heart of the demon that infected me. I do not consider it an option in this case,” she intoned sarcastically. “I want us both to come through this alive. Well, one of us alive and the other at least animated.”

“Tara’s got a point,” Buffy continued. “I really, really didn’t want to, but I may have to call Giles. Do you realize how embarrassing it’s going to be to tell him that I let Spike feed, had sex with him, and to top it off, it went wrong? Men Giles’ age, aren’t even supposed to think about sex. It could give him a heart attack.” Just contemplating that phone call made her anxious. Subconsciously, she began to massage her temples.

“Buffy, just give me a day to do some research, I’m sure I can find a spell that can fix this”, pleaded Willow.

“Will, I know you mean well, but I want you to promise me that you won’t do any magic on your own. Promise me that you will tell all of us. For now you need to rely on our judgment. Please? Just until you get well.” Buffy pleaded with her long time friend. She couldn’t be sure, but she suspected that powerful magics Willow had used to raise her from the dead had changed her friend as much as it had changed herself.

“I’m fine, really”, Willow said pointedly.

“Will,” stated Buffy using her I’m in command voice.

“Alright, I promise not to try any spells without talking it over with you first. Girl Scout’s oath.” Willow gave her the scout’s salute.

Chapter 8

Buffy lay in bed reading the Egyptian text Will had relinquished to her, but the language was so difficult she had a hard time maintaining her focus. Her mind kept slipping back to the things that had gone on today. Dawn had been tremendously upset when Buffy had given her a heavily edited version of what had happened. She had spent the rest of the evening sitting beside Spike on the basement sofa holding his hand and talking to him. It was probably bringing back bad memories of when Mom was ill. Buffy had had to drag her to bed at eleven. She’d probably have to take Dawn to school tomorrow morning too, or Dawn would just skip.

Buffy forced herself to go back to reading the book. All this stuff about doing it with dead bodies was really perverse. She just wasn’t into necrophilia. The spell for breaking enchanted sleep was easy enough, you just basically just had to have sex with the body until the erotic energy built enough for it reanimated itself. Buffy could see why the spell was more successful for awaking women then men, but it couldn’t hurt to give it a shot.

She tiptoed quietly downstairs; she hoped Willow and Dawn were deeply asleep. If she had to explain one more thing about her sex life, she just might have to kill herself.

***

Spike dreamed of Buffy. There was no sight or sound, it was all darkness and warmth. He couldn’t comprehend how this was happening. How could you dream inside a dream? But she was here, lying on top of him, her sweet weight pressing him down. The sensation of her touch permeated the barrier between his dreams. He could feel her kissing his mouth and his neck and the silky caress of her long hair gliding across his chest, teasing his nipples. He felt himself rise to her insistent hands and mouth. It was only when she mounted him that he realized something was wrong. He couldn’t move, couldn’t reach to her. It was as if he was completely paralyzed. His mind screamed and fought. This was wrong. He forced himself up and out of the dream, away from her.

***

It hadn’t worked. She was so disappointed she wanted to cry, but she had cried too much lately and all it did was give her red, blotchy skin and the hiccups. It didn’t solve anything. She pulled Spike’s clothes back together and got him redressed. She looked at the clock on the wall, 4AM. It was time to pull out the big guns. It was time to call Giles.

She thought the time difference would make it about noon in London. She knew that was early, and he might not even be home yet, but if she called now she stood a better chance of actually having a private conversation. She got the number off the refrigerator in the kitchen and went back down to the basement to call.

He answered on the third ring, “Rupert Giles’ residence”.

“Hi, Giles. Um, you getting all unpacked and squared away?” Buffy was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, her knees tucked up to her chin. She held Spike’s hand as she talked.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah, It’s me. Look I have a bit of a problem here. I know you want me to solve my problems on my own, but Tara thinks you may have taken the book on blood magic that we need.” She could hear the rustle of movement and figured he had gone over to where ever he thought the book might be.

“Do you remember the title?”

“No, but it was the one you used when I got infected by that demon and started hearing what was going on in people’s minds.” She was so nervous she was chewing on her lip; she hadn’t done that since she was about ten.

“Have you become infected again? What did the demon look like? What are your symptoms?”

“Not me, and the symptoms are like a coma”, hedged Buffy, she still wanted to avoid telling him if at all possible.

“Who’s been injured? Are they in the hospital?”

Buffy heard the rattling of glassware and the sound of liquid being poured.

“It’s Spike, and no. He’s right here beside me on the basement couch.”

“Hmm, I can’t think of too many things that could infect a vampire. The demon’s very nature prevents encroachment from other predatory entities. Possibly a spell of some type; you’ve conferred with Willow and Tara?”

“Yes, that’s why I called about the book. We know it involved an exchange of blood.”

“Buffy?” He knew that he didn’t want to hear the answer to his question even as he asked it. “On whom did Spike feed?”

“Me. He fed from me.”

She heard the sound of breaking glass a figured he had dropped his drink. This conversation was going about the way she had expected, badly. She heard him curse in the background and it sounded like he had cut himself on the glass. The line fell silent for a few seconds. When he returned, his calmness and his words surprised her.

“Buffy, as you are still among the living, and are seeking information to revive Spike, I shall attribute this to something other then an act of aggression. Would you care to explain just how he managed to find away around the chip to accomplish this act. I promise I will not judge, but I do need the information if I am to assist you toward a solution.”

He was so great at understanding. She felt the anger she had held toward him since he had returned to England ease a little. It was good to know that he was still there for her, even if he wasn’t here for her. Ok, that thought got kind of confused as it went, but she knew what she meant.

She began to explain about Spike finding out the chip no longer worked around her, only her. She described to Giles the devastation she had felt when she had been confronted with the fact that the chip failed to identify her as human. She told him about Will endangering Dawn’s life, her addiction to magic, and her own feelings that the addiction was linked to the resurrection spell. She told him of Spike’s disappearance and return, and her realization that she cared for him. She spoke of finding Joyce’s journal and letters, and her need to prove that Spike really wouldn’t hurt her. Finally, as delicately as possible, she described the test she had devised and its distressing consequences.

Through it all, Giles had remained relatively quiet. He just supplied a few encouraging murmurs, asking questions only when he needed clarification. He was using all those active listening skills that they tried to teach her in high school. At one time his use of those therapeutic techniques to get her to confess to things had made her feel manipulated and tricked. Now, she knew them for a sign of his caring, and was grateful.

***

Spike opened his eyes; the coal fire burning low in the grate provided enough light to see that he was still in his mother’s house.

After dreaming of Buffy he couldn’t sleep. He wandered from room to room looking for traces of his previous life. Finally he ended up in the bedroom that he had had as a living youth. It was exactly as he had left it the day he had gone to the party, to be near Cecily. There were his spare cravats lying all over the dresser. The novel he had been reading lay on the bedside table next to the ornate oil lamp.

He could barely remember the person he had been at that time. That had been only the first 23 years of his life, formative years maybe, but when compared with over a hundred years as a vampire, he knew which had the most impact. He was Spike now, not William Bludget, the third. Next time he found Paige, she was going to get a chance to make Spike’s acquaintance, and get to know exactly what her big brother had become. It was time for Big Bad to get some answers.

Chapter 9

Monday had been terrible. Pulling Dawn away from Spike and getting her off to school had set off a verbal battle between the sisters that had left Buffy feeling guilty and put upon. It shouldn’t have to be her job to get Dawn off to school, but in her heart she knew she was the only one capable of doing it since her mom was gone.

When Dawn came home from school that evening she hadn’t said a word, just went straight down to the basement. When Buffy had checked on her a while later, she had been at the computer reading their mom’s journal. She mental made a note to herself to have Will password protect the steamier entries, and returned to the dinning room to do some more research.

*** Spike awoke when something bounced on the bed. He groaned but didn’t open his eyes.
“William”, said the young girl bouncing harder. “Get up and come to the parlor. You don’t want mother to be mad at me, do you? Remember what she always said about being in a gentleman’s room.”

“Paige, go on quit. I’m trying to sleep.” Spike realized as soon as the words left his mouth that he had fallen into the pattern of bickering that they had had when they were alive. That he even remembered this ritual brought him a round with a jolt. It was down right weird.

He sat up with his back to the headboard and his long legs stretched in front of him, and stared at the form of his sister. “Paige, take a look at me, don’t you see anything different?”

“I only see my sweet brother William”, she replied smiling kindly.

“Paige, stop it.” His voice was much harder; he was tired of being nice. “I think its time I received some answers.”

“William”, she said pleadingly.

“Name’s not William anymore. It’s Spike. You are not my sister. My sister has been dead for over 80 years. Someone owes me some answers and I’m going to get them.” Using his vampiric speed, he twisted an arm around her neck and tried to trap her against his chest.

She vanished.

He heard in her voice in his head. “If your going to be mean, I shall just leave again.”

He picked up the book on the bedside table and threw it against the wall. It hit with a resounding thud, and slithered down into a heap, its spine broken.

***

It had been four days now, four very long days. Buffy wished they had been able to find the answer, or at least a lead toward an answer but they had been stumped at every turn. Her friends had been doing their best to come up with some plausible explanations as to why this had happened, but didn’t seem to be getting anywhere.

It had become uncomfortable for Buffy to listen to herself being discussed in third person, as if she wasn’t there. Since overhearing their last conversation, speculating on what type of demonic properties she had acquired during her latest round with death, she had avoided the Magic Box and just let Willow give her a summary of progress.

The days had fallen into a routine now. Buffy or Will would cook dinner. Will would study, and then Dawn and Buffy would go to the basement to read a section of the journal before Buffy would go patrol. Dawn would read bits out loud as Buffy sat on the floor in front of the couch holding Spike’s hand. Sometimes they would discuss what they read, but often they sat in silence each lost in their own thoughts.

I almost died this evening. That little man who had been with Travers kidnapped me and turned me over to this vampire. He was CRAZY and sadistic. He took pictures of me to torment Buffy with. All the time he was taking photographs he was telling me what he was going to do to her, and to me. I felt like I had been trapped in some horrible version of Silence of the Lambs. I’m not sure whom I was more frightened for. Thank god, Dawn was up in her room when they came. I just prayed that they wouldn’t find her.

Buffy saved my life this evening. No, the Slayer saved me. The she was so smart, so resourceful. She tricked the vampire into drinking holy water. It caused the vampire to burn from inside out. I hope I never see anything like that again. It was horrible.

Buffy was very much an adult, so in control. She made me feel safe. When did our roles change? When did she grow up? She’s had to grow up too fast. I’m supposed to be the one to make her feel safe. I’m the one that is supposed to protect her.

“You know, Buffy, I think the scoobies are going about this all wrong”. Dawn turned the desk chair so that she was facing her sister.

“What do you mean?” Buffy was looking at Spike’s hand. She wondered when he had stopped painting his nails?

“Remember when you sang to Sweet that you thought you were in heaven. Well, reading Mom’s journal just now made me think. What if the change that caused Spike’s chip to fail around you wasn’t because you had suddenly become all demonic, but because you brought something holy back with you. It makes more sense that you would be changed for good in heaven, then if you’d become darker.”

Buffy looked a Dawn, her mouth open in shock. A feeling of hope was born in her chest. She found herself searching internally, rooting around in the experiences and emotions she had had since her return. She touched each one gingerly with this new piece of information, as gently as if she had been exploring a sore tooth with her tongue. It fit. It rang true. Her heart sang with vindication, she wasn’t evil.

. Buffy flung herself off the floor and caught Dawn in a hug so hard se squealed. “Thank you, thank you!” Tears of joy fell down Buffy’s face unnoticed. “I’m so glad you are my sister.”

The next day Buffy called her friends together for a meeting at the Magic Box. “Dawn and I were reading Mom’s journal last night and something occurred to Dawn that I think maybe important. It may explain why Spike had the reaction he did to my blood.”

Buffy watched as Dawn described the previous evening’s discussion. Dawn was growing up, she thought. She could really hold her own with when it came to discussing plans and tactics. She gave Dawn’s hand a squeeze to show her some support.

“So, Dawnster let me get this right, you think Fang Face’s chip got zapped because Buffy’s like an angel or something?” Xander raised his eyebrows skeptically.

“No offense, Buff, but you are not the angelic type. You kick butt too well.”

“Th th there have been lots of holy people who have been warriors, Xander, like Saint George, and Saint Michael”, replied Tara.

Chapter 10

Spike stomped down the stairs to the parlor. “Paige, I know you can hear me. Come here this bloody instant!” He hadn’t been this angry with her since she’d been twelve and had nicked his notebook, giving all her chums a peepshow.

When he entered the room, Paige was seated in her usual chair. “What’s with the Bloody Dickens’s Christmas Carol routine?”

“Funny Will. I think you actually found a sense of humor since you became a vampire. You used to be so morose.” She smiled broadly and giggled. “Yes, yes, that little undigested bit of blood is certainly the reason you are seeing spirits.”

“I’m glad you find it so bloody funny. Now how do I get back home?”

“You can not. They have to call you.” Her innocent eyes widened, she continued. “By blood and earth shall they call you. Then and only then shall you return”.

Spike knew he should have more patience dealing with this mumbo jumbo stuff. Hell, he’d spent long enough listening to Dru babble, but somehow it ticked him off more when the words came from the mouth of his little sister.

***

Buffy was at the Magic Box, talking on the phone with Giles. Willow had finally found a spell that looked likely to work if they could find all of the ingredients. And that was a big IF.

“Read that passage again for me.”

Buffy reread the passage from the heavy leather bound book. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Anya giving her a dirty look for staying on the phone so long.

“Yes it does sound promising. I want you to fax me a copy of your translation from the shop, and don’t let Anya charge you for it. You tell her it’s on my orders.”

Buffy went to the back and photocopied the text and faxed it. To pass the time she went and helped a customer locate a book on money accumulating spells. She kept her mouth shut, but she knew for a fact that they didn’t work. When the phone rang she hurriedly murmured her excuses and raced to catch it.

“Buffy, some of these ingredients are rather obscure. It may be difficult to obtain some of the soil where Spike was born, but I will stick the council historian on it.”

“Willow brought up the point that with him being a vampire, the dirt we need might actually be from his grave”, offered Buffy.

“That would make it easier. I’ll ring off now and get started. Call if anything changes.”

***

It had been two weeks, but the wait was finally over. Buffy sat holding the box that Giles had sent in her lap. Its brown paper was covered with funny looking postage. She had just picked up from the post office a few minutes ago. Tonight they should be able to invoke the spell that would wake Spike up. She leaned her head back against the seat while Tara drove. The spell called for three women participate, assuming the roles of maiden, mother, and crone. She wasn’t sure it would work. While she had been gratified to learn that Dawn could still assume the role of maiden, she still was uncomfortable in her role as mother, and Tara couldn’t be considered a crone by any stretch of the imagination.

It had been hell living with Will the past few days. Buffy knew the only reason she’d agreed to let them perform the spell without her was that she was sure it would fail, and then Buffy would have to call her in.

When they got home, they moved Spike to the basement floor. Tara began to chalk a protective circle around him. Dawn set up the candles at the cardinal points and lit the hibachi for the incense. They were using rosemary for remembrance.

Buffy sat on the couch watching them lost in her own thoughts. She passed Tara’s athame back and forth between her hands, the knife glittered in the candle light. She was running the steps that they had practiced through her head. First Tara would chant, pouring out the earth Giles had sent on to Spike’s chest. Then they would step together chanting and forming a cone of power. Finally they would each cut the palms of their left hands, and bringing them together they would allow the blood to drip on the earth.

The earth was the key, if they didn’t have the right stuff it wasn’t going to work. Giles had sent along two baggies filled with dirt. The first was from his grave, and the second was from the Bludget family estate, where the council historian had thought it likely that Spike had been born.

She remembered Giles’ words on the phone three days ago.

“Use them both. Maybe you will get lucky, and it will be what you need. The original spell was not as clear as your translation. It could have been that we just needed dirt from the continent that he was born on or it might be as specific dirt that was mixed with the placenta from his birth. I just can’t be sure.”

Chapter 11

Spike sat there trying to tease a little more concrete information out of the sprite that wore his sister’s form, but he had to admit he was getting nowhere. The little bint just wouldn’t budge. The only additional information she had imparted was that Buffy’s blood had changed him, but she refused to tell him how or why. He wanted to strangle her, but he knew that she would just disappear again. After a while he gave up and just sat and stared at her. The prick of the needle on canvas echoed loudly in the room as she sewed.

As the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed midnight, the room seemed to shift and rock. Smoke poured from the cracks in the wall flooding the floor with a misty vapor.

“So it begins.” She smiled and stood. Then she hugged him. Her form turned to mist in his arms. Her last words came to him softly as if from a great distance. “ I love you, big brother.

***

Buffy felt power swell under her feet as Tara faced Northward beseeching the powers of earth. The circle surrounding them glowed green, startling her for a second. Dawn chanted her part invoking the powers of air to the East. A wild sweet wind answered circling the girls, and whipping their hair around their faces. Tara turned toward the South and called on fire to come to their aid. The candles flared and added their light to the luminous dome that grown to encapsulate them all.

It was Buffy’s turn now. She turned to the West invited the spirit of water to join them in their endeavor. Water held sway over emotions. She felt the answering response deep in her own body and knew the others felt it too by the way their postures changed. Each stood a little straighter as the water molecules in their blood and bodies recognized the call of power.

Tara began to chant the Latin phrases of the spell. Her voice seemed to come at Buffy in waves, first loud and then soft. Things were blurring. Power thrummed audibly now, and the winds circled with the force of a tornado. Buffy could no longer see the outline of the basement furniture through the angry brownish red arc of energy that surrounded them. Buffy grabbed Dawn with both arms to keep her inside the circle as Tara continued to chant. Suddenly a crash of thunder sounded. Lighting ripped through the two girls and Spike and they were gone.

Tara was left alone staring at the empty basement.

****

Buffy and Dawn stood on a high bluff looking down on a windswept desert. The light of the red sun painted the sand in tones of cadmium, sienna, and ocher. Spike lay at their feet. He remained lifeless and in the same position that they had placed him in back in the basement. The mound of dirt still formed a small pyramid on his chest. Buffy turned three hundred and sixty degrees. The ground surrounding them bore the symbols of their spell as if lasers had etched them into the soil.

“Buffy, where are we?” Apprehension and awe warred across Dawn’s features.

“I’m not sure, but it reminds me of….” Where I met the first Slayer. Buffy had no more than finished the thought when she was there.

Buffy moved slowly placing herself between Dawn and the other woman. The Slayer was wearing her traditional bandages for clothing outfit and her hair was just as frightful as ever. She looked older though; wide swaths a gray were interwoven through the dreadlocks now. Buffy widened her stance centering herself for the battle that was certain to come.

Dawn watched as the woman walked toward her sister with her hand out stretched. There was poignancy in their contrast: dark and light, ugly and beautiful, age and youth. Dawn felt like she was on the verge of realizing some tremendous secret if she could just grasp what it was.

Buffy held her ground and watched the figure intently as she searched for any signs of aggression.

“Daughter, do you know what you are? Do you know what is to come? You’ve only taken your first steps.” Her hand caressed Buffy’s cheek.

The voice filled Buffy with emotions. It touched her with gentleness, and longing. Pain and responsibility were there too. It was terrible. Buffy wanted to cover her ears. To hide. To escape.

An obsidian blade appeared in the Slayer’s hand. With a quick slash she rent the flesh of her other palm. Blood so deep a shade of red that it was almost black welled from the cut. She offered the knife to Buffy.

Buffy felt herself hesitate, and then firmly grasped the stone blade slicing down into the flesh of her own palm. Without a word she offered the knife to Dawn.

Dawn’s hand shook as she carefully took the stone. Its glasslike black shaft was now slick with blood. With a small cry, she quickly drew the scalpel sharp blade across her left palm piercing the flesh.

The three women joined hands over Spike’s body. Palm to palm, their blood mingled and ran, dripping on to the dark pile of earth mounded on his chest. Chanting they called him home.

***

His mother’s house had spun away from him as it had filled with mist. Spike was lost. Lost in a place without form or substance. He floated in the empty void, waiting. He waited without even knowing what he was waiting for. After an infinity of nothing, he recognized a change. A scent, seductive in its pungency, called to him. Lured him. He followed the familiar smell of blood to its origin, and it brought him home.

Chapter 11

When Tara had awakened them from their heap on the floor, the first thing Spike had done was grab Buffy’s arms, and pull her into his embrace. He looked deeply into her eyes, and then kissed her forcefully; needing to prove to himself that she was real.

Buffy felt like her body was on fire. The passion his kiss was so intense that she was sure the carpet would have melted if they hadn’t taken it up because of the flood. She knew it would have evolved into something else, if Tara and Dawn hadn’t been standing there looking at them. As it was, she was the one who had pulled away first, embarrassed.

She shouldn’t have pulled away. She realized it almost immediately. He shut down, suddenly cold and distant. Oh, he was polite and all. He thanked Tara and Dawn for helping to bring him back, said he didn’t remember anything. Then as soon as she had her back turned, he left.

Since then he had, for all intents and purposes, disappeared. Oh, Anya said he had been down at the Magic Box going through the reference books, and Dawn said she had seen him briefly at his crypt. He hadn’t wanted to talk to her either. Buffy couldn’t figure it out; it was like their roles had switched, and now she was stalking him.

***

The figure, carved from teak wood, had darkened to black with age. Unlike the other sculptures in the church, it alone remained unpainted. White linen hung in swaths between extended arms. At first glance you could mistake the article held in one of her hands for the artist’s representation of a candle, but Spike knew it was a stake. He been staring at the statue for almost forty-five minutes as he waited for Buffy to arrive. The emotions it touched off were complex; he couldn’t quite put a name to it, but the combination of hate and awe came close.

For the last three days he had been trying to figure out just what type of change the goddess and his sister had spoken of. He’d done the research bit. He’d pumped Anya for information. He’d even called Giles in London. Nothing. He’d tested himself against all the typical things: sun, holy water, crosses. They all still burned, and he had the blisters to prove it. He looked ruefully down at his reddened palm.

In fact, that was how he ended up in this church to begin with. He had come with the mission of testing himself against one of the crucifixes. Just entering the church was bad enough; he hated walking on consecrated ground. It gave him an angry itchy feeling, as if the stones in the foundation itself were crying out for his annihilation. When the old priest had gone to hear confessions, he had grasped one of the wooden crosses placed along the wall at intervals. Luckily, most of the observers were elderly, and had probably dismissed the whiff of smoke coming off his palm as dirty specs. He had been on the verge of leaving when the statue caught his eye and drew him into the small side chapel.

He felt the change the minute he stepped over the threshold between the rooms. It was as if he had entered the eye of a storm. It was quiet, too quiet. He knew instantly that the statue was far older then the church in which it stood, older even than the religion that currently worshiped it. He also recognized that the power that held sway over this territory did not scorn him, as did the other only inches away. At that point he realized he needed to talk to Buffy. It had taken some effort to force himself back out into the main hall and then even more effort to return once he had made his call.

Buffy looked for Spike as she entered the church. Evening mass had ended, but there were still a few people milling around. She slowly strode through the great stone archways with their windows of stained glass, glancing at the people who remained seated on the dark oak benches. She hadn’t been back to church since her Mom’s funeral and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be here now.

She’d been baffled when Dawn gave her the message. She didn’t know which question she wanted answered first. Where have you been for the last three days, topped the list, but why are we meeting in a church, came in a close second. But when she saw him, what actually came out of her mouth was, “Are you praying?”

“Hell, no”, came the startled response. The eyes of the remaining congregants turned toward them. He pulled Buffy into the pew next to him.

Eyes on her face, he gave a sideways nod at the statue. “She said you changed me. Been trying to figure out what she meant.”

“Who, Spike? What are you talking about?”

“Bloody hell, you can’t feel it can you?”

“Would you lower your voice”. Buffy could see the priest watching them out of the corner of her eye.

“It makes sense really”, said Spike talking to himself. “Didn’t feel it until now. Bloody power is the same type.”

“Spike if you don’t start talking sense, the alter guild will be cleaning up more dust then after Ash Wednesday services.”

“Your goddess, pet. The one who called the command performance after I fed on you. Bloody nightmare she was. She said that you changed me.”

Buffy looked at him blankly.

“You must know. I remember her there when you woke me. She called you her daughter.”

“The first Slayer?”

“Names don’t matter to the likes of her. Call her the first Slayer if you want, but she’s still a goddess.”

Buffy examined the sickle shaped scar on the palm of her left hand. Dawn had one just like it. The cuts had been completely healed when they had returned to the basement. Lost in her own thoughts she missed Spike’s next words.

“……You woke her up with the spell you used to defeat Adam.”

Buffy looked at him, eyes narrowed, trying to remember something. Her voice when it came was hesitant and slow. “You were there, in the spell with us. I remember. I needed to become the focus, but I couldn’t follow the power without unbalancing the elements. I needed somebody to take over my role of warrior. I brought you in. Her voice faster, excited, “That’s what woke her. When I pulled you in. I felt it.”

Spike nodded his head.

“If you remembered, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Weren’t exactly on speaking terms then, now were we? No way in hell, I’d have admitted to helping you then, less there was something in it for me. Besides, I may have awakened her, but feeding on you is what got me that little face to face chat. When they brought you back you changed, became less human. When I fed from you I changed, too.

“I’m not evil. Dawn and I figured it…..”

“I didn’t say you were. You’re so far beyond those terms; I don’t know what you are. Except, she called you daughter. Just whose power do you think Red borrowed to bring you back? Powerful witch though she is, she’ s still mortal. It took something more than a mere mortal to bring you across that barrier.

He continued, “Buffy, there are always consequences when blood is exchanged, Blood is power, and power is magic.”

“Wait, what about all those people who have transfusions everyday?” She protested.

“Regular people, little magic, little consequences. Now a Slayer’s blood, that’s big magic.”

“What about Angel and Dracula, They both fed on me. I didn’t change them.” It dawned on her as she said it; that three vampires had actually fed on her, three. She hadn’t died from it. She couldn’t remember any other Slayer who had ever been bitten and survived, not even one. Her mind kept going over her track record. No other Slayers had been brought back from the dead either, and here she was on her third life. “What am I”, she thought?

“You don’t know that. I’ve fed off of two other Slayers before you and I can tell you ….”

“Spike, I’ve had enough of this. I’m going.” She started to leave the pew.

Spike grabbed her wrists and pulled her toward him. “Your bloody well going to stay put and listen to what I have to say.”

The priest sat down on the bench behind them. “Can I offer some counsel, my children?”

“No thank you, Father. I was just leaving.” Buffy disengaged her wrists from Spike’s grasp and stepped into the aisle.

The priest followed her out, placing himself between the two. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but maybe he could diffuse the situation. He wanted to give the young woman time to get away.

Spike pushed pass him knocking the priest into a stone pillar. “Sorry about that, Padre”, he growled.

He caught up with her outside. “Slayer, you need to listen. That little rip and tear she took through my brain wasn’t all one-way. I know for a bloody fact that she has plans for you.”

The words stopped Buffy in her tracks. She turned toward him. “If she wants a fight I can give her one. I’ve taken down gods before.” She was sure it would have been more believable if she hadn’t been shaking so hard.

He took her by the shoulders, and gently tilted her face up to his. “She wants you to. She wants you to fight so she can lose. She wants you to take her place.” He shook his head. “The only way you are going to win this battle is to stay alive. Give yourself time to figure out who you are now. Make it your choice not hers.”

She rested her head on his chest. They stayed that way for a few moments in silence, and then with a sigh she asked, “How did I change you?”

“Don’t know, luv, but it can only be for the better, right?” As he kissed her gently, he ran his hands underneath her shirt stroking the small of her back.

Buffy leaned into the kiss. It’s nice that we can be gentle with each other, too, she thought. She upped the heat a notch, molding her body to his. “Come on let’s go home.”

Home, his mind echoed, wherever she is, is home. He knew Buffy was in reaction mode again. Always got impulsive when she got hit with anything new. He wanted to make certain she wouldn’t regret this decision. “What about Dawn?”

“Maybe it’s time she got used to us being together?”

“Yeah, maybe it is. Say, did I ever tell you about my little sister Paige?” He took her arm, and began to walk back toward the Summers’ house. Going home.

The End