Now could I drink hot blood
And do such bitter business
As the day would quake to look on.
(Hamlet)
"What? WHAT did you say?" Buffy's voice was shaking with barely repressed rage.
"Sorry, kid," Whistler shrugged apologetically. "Them's the rules."
"Giles!" Buffy appealed to her Watcher.
"Er, I'm afraid he's right, Buffy."
"Noooo!" the Slayer screamed. "Why me?"
Six of the seven others assembled in Buffy's house regarded her with varying degrees of sympathy. The seventh just chuckled maliciously. He was a slender blond in a leather duster; and he lounged in Buffy's living room as though he owned it.
"What kind of stupid rules are those?" Xander demanded hotly.
"It's the three strikes law, Xander," Giles explained. "Tonight, when Spike came to Buffy's aid in the cemetery, it marked the third time he's fought side by side with the Slayer. So, he gets a chance to regain his soul, by working with the Slayer for one year."
"Wait just a minute," Buffy protested. "The second time he WASN'T helping me; I was saving HIS worthless ass."
"Buffy," Joyce said remonstratively.
"Doesn't matter," Whistler said, "you've now fought vampires together three times, so Spike gets the option."
Buffy groaned.
"Now, Buffy, don't upset yourself," Giles tried to soothe her. "Spike has absolutely no interest in regaining his soul."
"Are you sure, Spike?" Joyce asked anxiously. "You may not want your soul now, but perhaps one day..."
"No sodding way!" the vampire said emphatically. "Me...with a soul? Forget it!"
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness that's settled! If I had to keep Spike out of trouble for a whole year...."
"Here!" The vampire was outraged. "It seems to me that I bailed YOU out, Slayer....and more than once!"
"Actually, three times," Willow chimed in, "which is why we're here at all, and...I'll be quiet now." She huddled closer to Oz, eyeing Spike in fascination.
Whistler told Spike, "You have three days to decide; but that's it. No changing your mind later- no matter which way you choose."
"Three days, huh?" Spike's blue eyes flickered over Buffy. "Well now. Maybe I'd better...think it over. Don't want to burn all my boats, do I?"
"That's wise, Spike," Joyce approved.
But she was the only one.
"Cheer up, Buffster," Xander told the blonde Slayer. "He's just trying to get to you...he doesn't want a soul."
"I dunno, mate," Spike said deliberately, grinning at them. "It might have its uses."
Buffy moaned; and dropped her head into her hands.
Spike was still grinning when he left the Slayer's house. Funny...how being with her, even when she was yelling at him, never failed to lift his spirits.
He'd been sure nothing ever could again; yet, when he'd arrived back in dear old Sunnyhell, he'd come across the Slayer battling five vampires and joyously leapt into the fray. But when the last one had been vanquished, he'd looked up into Whistler's eyes.
And Whistler had dropped his bombshell.
Spike had no intention of reclaiming his soul, of course- that wasn't why he'd come back. Still, it wouldn't hurt to let the Slayer believe he was thinking it over. While she had that to worry about, she wasn't apt to stumble across the REAL reason.
Which she wouldn't like.
No, not at all.
Drusilla opened her eyes to find herself alone...her lover was gone.
"Never mind, Miss Edith," she picked up her favorite doll. "We'll just go find something to eat..."
She dressed swiftly in one of her flowing gowns, then cracked open the door, beckoning to the minion on guard.
He was a new vampire; and hesitated...his purpose was to protect her, not to keep her from leaving if she wished. But he was afraid...VERY afraid...of his Master; and sensed the Master might not react happily if he returned to find his lady gone. In his misery he wavered; and that was his undoing.
Drusilla smiled and smoothed her doll's hair, daintily stepping over the pile of dust in the hallway. She slid the wooden stake back up her sleeve. "Come along, Miss Edith- we'll find Huw," Drusilla simpered.
Hiya, Willy!"
The thin little man polishing the bar blanched at the greeting. "He...hello, Spike. I didn't hear you was back in town..."
"Liar, Willy." Spike's voice was calm, even pleasant- but Willy was suddenly very nervous. "Well, I mighta heard rumors..."
"Yeah, Willy. Let's talk about those rumors, shall we?" Spike lit a cigarette.
Willy looked uneasily at the few vampires still lingering in shadowy corners.
The blond vampire swung around and said loudly, "Sorry, mates, the bar's closed! Booked for a private party, don't you know?"
In less than three minutes, the entire place was empty.
"Geez, Spike," Willy said plaintively, "I don't know who's worse for business- you, or the Slayer."
Spike blew a smoke ring. "Always me, Willy. See you remember it. Now...fill me in. What's become of the rest of my boys?"
"After Trick got staked, most of them got killed during the Ascension; what's left work for the new vamps in town."
Spike nodded. Encouraged, Willy went on, "The Morgan brothers, Deron and Huw. Heard they plan to rule the hellmouth. Rule the hellmouth," Willy snorted. "That's a mug's game; but the Morgan brothers might pull it off. Deron's the planner...baby brother Huw is the enforcer."
"Where are they based?"
"I dunno."
Spike grabbed his shirt and hoisted him off the ground. "No, Spike!" Willy squealed, "It's on the level! All the vamps are scared of Huw! Honest!"
Spike loosed his hold. "You're not and you never will be. But...find out, Willy. You have twenty-four hours." He turned toward the door.
Willy caught his breath. "Spike...you seen the Slayer yet?"
Spike's face softened slightly. "Oh yeah," he said. "What IS it about that girl? She keeps on going like that sodding bunny with the drum."
Willy shrugged. "Some people are like that...you can batter them to their knees, but next thing, they're back up and coming at you!"
Spike chuckled. There were those who said that HE was like that.
"It's funny...ever notice how her face changes expression? It's like it isn't safe to stop looking at her- you might miss something."
Willy eyed him curiously. "Sure, Spike...I noticed."
"Which bed would you like, Buffy?" Willow asked expectantly.
Buffy grinned. "Hmm, let me think...the one on the right, or the one on the left?"
Willow had to laugh at that; their dorm room was the usual cubbyhole, with two identical beds, desks, and not much else.
"It may be a cubbyhole," Buffy pointed out, "but it's OUR cubbyhole!" She bouched on the right-hand bed.
Willow smiled, delighted to see her best friend happy again. Buffy really seemed to have recovered from Angel's departure to L.A.
A beautiful Asian girl peeked around the door. "Hi! I'm Rei Takeda...from across the hall. Anyone in the mood for our first campus party?"
"Did you say party?" Buffy scrambled up. "Hey Willow, hear that? My luck is definitely changing."
"You bet it is," Willow said protectively. "We're going to the party; and we will have fun!"
"Fun is definitely on the agenda," Buffy vowed.
The old hotel in Sunnydale had changed hands several times since Buffy had fought the vampire Kralick there. But no real repairs had been made, and most of the doors and windows remained boarded up.
"Hovel," said the handsome young man contemptuously.
"It has its uses," said his slightly older counterpart.
"A cage for your pretty bird?" suggested the younger one.
"And for yours, little brother. And for yours."
The party was held outside in a large open field. Oz's band was playing; and the sound carried clearly through the late summer night.
"Oz!" Willow caught her boyfriend's eye and headed towards the stage.
Buffy was about to follow when she found herself surrounded by three guys.
"Small but cherce," the good-looking leader mumbled, looking her up and down. "What's your name, honey?" nearly spilling his drink all over her.
Buffy dodged adroitly, not wanting to get beer on her black denim skirt and yellow tank top.
"Where you goin', sweets?" the guy lurched closer, pulling at her arm while his friends grinned derisively.
Buffy was becoming annoyed, and she gave him a slight shove- right into a tall guy standing with his back to them. He swung around ...and handsome dark eyes widened as they rested on Buffy.
"There you are, baby," he leaned forward, smiling, and took Buffy's hand. "I was getting worried."
The three frat types stopped in their tracks. "Uh...you're a couple?" One of them managed.
"A couple of what?" Buffy's rescuer smiled blandly.
The leader clenched his fists.
The dark-haired guy shook his head. "Forget it, Porter. I told you already...she belongs to me."
For an instant Buffy thought there might be trouble; then Porter scowled and strode away.
The one still holding her hand grinned. "What damsel did I just save from distress?"
Buffy thought he sounded a little cocky but answered, "I'm Buffy Summers."
"I'm Riley Finn. And now, do I get a reward?"
Buffy's smile faded. "Reward?"
"One dance? Please?"
Without waiting for a response, Riley Finn pulled her into his arms as Oz's band played a slow song. He didn't try to hold her too tight; and Buffy decided she did like him after all.
Willow smiled and blew a kiss in the direction of the stage. She felt incredibly pleased with life- her first college party was a success, and Buffy finally looked happy, dancing with one of the most gorgeous guys that Willow had ever seen.
"Hi Willow!" It was Rei Takeda. "Having fun? Where's Buff...OH!"
Willow looked at Rei in concern. "What's the matter?"
Rei turned her lovely eyes on Willow. "Does...does Buffy know Riley well?" she asked imploringly.
"I think they just met. Why? What's wrong with him?"
Rei managed a wavery smile. "Not a thing. That's the whole problem...there's NOTHING wrong with him!"
"Oh." Willow felt terrible. "Rei, I'm sorr..."
"Don't!" the other girl cut her off. "I have no claim on Riley...it's just...I sort of hoped..." She rushed away.
"Yeah," Willow sighed, "I know all about that kind of hope."
"I'm hoping you will dance with me," said a deep, resonant male voice.
Startled, Willow turned her head to see an extremely handsome dark-haired man gazing at her. He looked somewhat older than most of the kids dancing; and she wondered if he could be a grad student, or perhaps a youthful member of the faculty. Then he smiled, and she decided she didn't care. He put his hands on her waist, and they began dancing.
"I'm Willow," she offered.
"What a lovely name. It suits you," he approved, but didn't offer his.
Almost without her noticing, they'd drifted nearer the trees- off to the edge of the field. Her partner's hands slid from her waist to her shoulders, pulling her closer. His grip was growing painful; and Willow opened her mouth to protest.
"I see you!" A dark-haired figure in diaphanous white stood a few feet away, clutching a doll. "It's getting late, Deron...and I'm hungry."
With a muffled curse, her partner released Willow and reached for the other girl. But she eluded him, giggling madly.
"Can't catch me!" she sing-songed, flitting swiftly away among the trees.
Without sparing a glance for Willow, the man rushed after her.
"Will?" Buffy touched Willow's shoulder.
Her friend yelped, and spun around. "Buffy! You won't believe this, but I just saw...Drusilla!"
"Drusilla?" Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Spike said she was still in Brazil."
"She's not," Willow said positively.
Buffy grabbed Willow's arm. "C'mon, Will, let's tell Giles! And then...THEN I'm going to go find Spike!"
Had Buffy only known, Spike wasn't difficult to find. He'd gone to the one place in Sunnydale where he was sure of finding a sympathetic ear...the Slayer's house.
Oddly enough, Joyce hadn't been surprised to see him. "The mansion isn't the right place, Spike. I mean, there are just too many bad memories for you to feel comfortable there."
"Some good memories, too." Spike considered telling her about watching Angel's pathetic first attempts to open the vortex; and then thought better of it. "I can't just rent a flat or something. I like a bit of space."
"There's always empty houses in Sunnydale," Joyce suggested, reaching for the classifieds. "How does this sound, Spike? 'Charming Victorian, four bedrooms, three fireplaces'... it looks ideal."
Their two heads bent closely over the newspaper, so absorbed they never noticed the eyes watching them through the dining room window...
"Are you certain?" Huw Morgan demanded.
His minion nodded. "Yes, it was definitely Spike. I just saw him in a house on Revello Drive."
"Good." Huw allowed himself a rare smile. "Then, we need wait no longer to put our plans in motion."
"We'd better not," said a sarcastic voice. "Not if these worthless minions of yours can't keep their hands on the bait."
Huw scowled. "She's cunning; mad as a hatter, but..."
"But still able to give you the slip." His brother nodded.
Huws eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
Deron held up his hand. "I don't wish to quarrel with you, Huw. But with everything almost ready, it would be a shame to lose it all now."
"We won't." Huw sounded very certain. "All the players are in the game. Especially the queen!"
"Who's the queen? Dru- or the Slayer?"
Huw laughed. "One for me, one for you? I may share Dru with you on occasion, Deron, but don't get greedy. I plan to have Dru... and the Slayer! You can kill Spike!"
"Fair enough," his brother nodded. "No time like the present?"
Giles frowned at the somehwat obscure passage in the text. He recognized bitter business...Hamlet and the bitter business of revenge. But, what could it mean in light of the Celtic prophecy he was attempting to decipher? If only he had the resources of the Watchers' Council to call upon!
Yet, the loss of those resources were his sole regret. Otherwise, he was inclined to think that getting fired from his Watcher's position was the best thing to ever happen to him. He'd shucked off the burden of centuries-old tradition to make a new start; and the sense of freedom was almost overwhelming.
Now, he'd found an interesting position...and was able to love and guide Buffy according to his own instincts, rather than following the Council's dictates.
He glanced up as his assistant came in.
"Got the Celtic artifacts unpacked," the young man commented.
"Good," the new museum director sipped his tea. "I'm arranging a major exhibit soon...perhaps Buffy and Willow will help as well."
"Yeah, girls go for stuff like that...as long as it isn't mummies."
Giles ignored that. "Why don't you give them a call, Xander? We need to meet about this."
"The exhibit?"
"The prophecy."
"Isn't this a perfect day," Buffy said happily, stretching out on her towel. "I haven't been to the beach in ages."
"Not since the swim team went Pacific," Willow reminded her.
"Want some beer?" Riley asked.
Buffy shook her head. "Just a coke for me."
"That's not college; that's high school." Porter Jones strode towards them, clutching two styrofoam containers. "I brought this for you," he told Buffy insistently, holding one out.
She shook her head again, and his face darkened. "I'm just trying to be friendly; why're you being such a bitch?"
"That's enough!" Riley was on his feet, fists clenched. "Buffy's with me...go find a girl of your own!"
Porter scowled...he leaned down and carefully placed the drinks on the sand.
"I said...they were for you," he told the astonished girls. "Drink them or not...." he walked away down the shore.
"Well, somebody's in a mood," commented Rei Takeda, walking up with several more containers. She put them on the sand, then held out one to the blonde. "Coke in this one, Buffy."
"Thanks, Rei." Buffy took a sip; while Rei sat down and picked up a beer. "Don't you like beer? Sometimes that's all that's served."
Willow reached for one of the drinks. "It's not bad." She took a sip then held it out to Buffy, who tasted it and made a face.
"Nope...still don't like it," the Slayer decided.
"I do." Willow drank some more.
Riley reached for Buffy's hand and pulled her to her feet. "Want to take a walk?"
She smiled at him, enjoying the feel of his strong hand clasping hers. They walked into the path of the setting sun, sipping their drinks and talking.
Buffy felt totally relaxed and happy...almost too relaxed, as if she wanted to curl up and go to sleep. This is ridiculous, she told herself. I have to meet up with the others soon....soon!
Hastily, she pulled away from Riley. "Sorry...gotta go!"
She practically ran back to where she'd left Rei and Willow. There was no sign of the pretty Japanese girl; but Willow was sound asleep on the sand.
"Will? Willow!" Buffy shook her friend's shoulder.
Willow's eyes opened but she only smiled sleepily.
"C'mon Will...meeting at the museum, remember?"
Suddenly their destination seemed impossibly far. But Buffy managed to get Willow on her feet...together they struggled up the path, leaving behind their belongings.
They had to make it to the museum.
They had to make it...to safety.
Buffy stunbled as she steered Willow through the back door of the museum and into the small private elevator that led up to the conference room on the top story. "Don't know why I'm still foggy and you're sleepwalking."
The occupants of the room stared at them...and each reacted to the sight of the weaving girls in a characteristic way.
"Good God!" Giles leapt to his feet. "Where have you two been?"
"First guess, heaven. Second guess, the beach," Xander quipped.
Buffy blushed, suddenly realizing that she and Willow were both clad in minuscule bikinis- purple for her, jade for Willow.
"Are you ok?" demanded Oz, rushing to relieve Buffy of Willow. He tenderly placed his semi-conscious girlfriend on the couch.
Buffy watched this enviously. "Couch...nice couch...to lie down on. Now I lay me down to sleep..."
"We get it, pet."
Fuzzily, Buffy saw Spike appear before her. She made no resistance when he picked her up, strode with her to a large leather chair, and sat down. She merely sighed in satisfaction, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
Oz had Willow's head in his lap and was stroking her bright hair. "The two of you smell like a bewery," he grinned. "Looks like I missed a great beach party!"
"Buffy, really," Giles said disapprovingly. "I thought you'd learned your lesson at that fraternity party."
"Yeah, the one where you almost got eaten," Xander put in.
"Nooo," Buffy protested weakly. She started to get to her feet, realized that REALLY wasn't a good idea; and settled back on Spike's lap.
He put his arms around her to hold her firmly. "Don't get upset, luv," he told her. "You'll be fine tomorrow. Except for a sodding headache. And next time, leave the brew alone!"
"I did," Buffy moaned. "I only had the tiniest sip of Willow's beer...honest! So why's everything spinning?"
She leaned back against Spike and closed her eyes. She was in that curious state where she was out of it, yet at the same time could experience everything that happened. She felt profoundly happy that she and Willow had reached this safe haven...though it did seem odd that she felt so secure in Spike's arms.
"This is what happens when they start hanging around with those beer-swilling college guys," Xander grumbled. "As for you, dead guy...watch where you put your hands!"
Spike scowled. "Don't confuse me with Angel. I'd have no hesitation in killing you!"
"That's enough," Giles said impatiently. "I think we must consider whether the girls may, in fact, have been drugged."
He eyed Buffy anxiously, then said, "Buffy had very little of the drug...Xander, make coffee. I'll get my books."
The meeting room was dimly lit; Spike could barely make out the figure of the werewolf, still stroking Willow's hair and murmuring soothing words. He gazed down at the nearly unconscious Slayer on his lap.
Her weight felt warm and sweet against him...her signature scent of vanilla now mixed with salt spray. Her skin had a rosy glow from the sun she'd gotten that day...he could feel the warmth radiating off her, even as the incredibly tiny bikini she was wearing made her start to shiver.
Spike took a deep unneeded breath. In a way he didn't care to contemplate, he didn't at all like the idea of the Slayer spending the day dressed like this...where other men could see her...could think about having her.
She shivered again; and he drew his coat as far as possible over her bare legs.
Xander and Giles returned, bearing coffee and blankets.
Reluctantly, Spike surrendered Buffy to Giles, who wrapped her in one of the blankets and forced her to sit at the table; meanwhile, Oz ministered to Willow.
"Ewww!" Buffy turned a disgusted face from the strong dark coffee that Xander offered.
"Drink it, pet," Spike ordered, oblivious to the startled looks he was getting from everyone else in the room.
Looks that turned to shocked stares when Buffy meekly obeyed.
"Yes, well..." Giles recovered first. "Who drugged you, Buffy...and why?"
She sighed. "I don't know. The only people actually near us were Porter and Rei. And Riley, of course."
"Of course?" Spike raised one eyebrow.
Buffy blushed. "But it was Porter and Rei who brought the beer. Riley was going to get some, but then Rei showed up."
Huw frowned at his brother over the unconscious body of Rei Takeda. "That's NOT the one I wanted."
Deron shrugged. "Yeah well, that's the way the cards played out! The one you wanted got away."
Huw grunted. "Well, I suppose she'll do. That's two out of three."
"Right...we need one more," Deron grinned. "But I know which."
Giles looked grim. "The Celts practiced human sacrifice...to their three great gods. Teutates required a victim to be drowned; while Esus wanted one who was stabbed before being hung. And Taranis? Burning."
"Nice," Buffy made a face. " But what does it have to do with me?"
"The prophecy, Buffy," Giles explained, "reads thus: 'The bitter business of the three will call the darkness down; the unlocking of the key will turn creation round.'"
"Cryptic," Xander remarked. "Where's Angel when you need him?"
"And WHAT bloody key?" Spike demanded.
Giles frowned thoughtfully. "I'm quite certain that reference is to the Key of Math."
"Oh great," Buffy groused, "my worst subject."
"Not that math, " Giles clarified. "Math the Ancient...a Celtic king, descended from one of their gods. And- a powerful sorcerer."
"So, where is this key?" Oz inquired.
"Oh-oh," Xander sat up suddenly. "It's not in that crate of Celtic artifacts I just unpacked...is it?"
"Not any more," said Giles, holding up the heavy iron key.
"What's it for?" Buffy asked with interest.
"I'm not certain, admitted Giles," But Math was known for his power of transmogrification."
"Uh...huh! Well, it's nice to know." Xander was clearly clueless.
"Math was a shape-shifter, Xander," Giles said patiently, "able to assume the forms of other living things. If the Morgan brothers were to acquire this ability, they'd wield incredible power. They could transform themselves- or others- into anything they wished!"
Spike tried hard to focus on Giles's words; but instead found himself watching the Slayer. Willow was now snoring softly, closely guarded by a vigilant Oz; but Buffy was drinking yet another cup of the strong coffee, grimacing at the taste.
Her pretty face with its ever-changing expressions fascinated him and always had; but why had he been so reluctant to give her over to Giles? For that matter, what impulse had moved him to scoop her up in the first place? Or to sit calmly in the midst of her friends, cuddling the near-naked Slayer on his lap?
She glanced up suddenly and caught his eye, blushing scarlet. Strangely enough, this pleased him...he rather liked the idea of the Slayer's involuntary response to him. Made him feel better about his involuntary response to HER...a response he hoped no one else had detected.
"So, Buffy, you think it was Porter who drugged the beer?" Willow asked. She'd finally awakened.
"He seems the most likely suspect," Buffy decided. "But we can't rule out anyone....Rei and..and Riley also had the opportunity. Or someone else could have done it while one of them was distracted."
She stretched across the table to take the key from Willow.
Spike swallowed hard. Oz had dashed out to his van to get some Dingoes band t-shirts for the girls; but as Buffy leaned forward the shirt rode up, displaying her long legs and bikini-clad bottom.
He caught Xander's eye; and for once the pair of them exchanged a glance of universal male solidarity.
Willow noticed; and it focused her attention on the vampire. "Spike," she said questioningly, "last night I saw Drusilla."
Years of practice kept his face impassive, but he felt his body clench.
"That's right." Buffy faced him challengingly. "What ABOUT that, Spike? You said Drusilla was back in Brazil."
He sighed inwardly. Well, it was inevitable in a town this size; though he'd hoped for a longer grace period....
"I know I did, Slayer. At the time, I really didn't think Dru could be involved in this. But now..."
"Now you figure that she is. Especially since Willow saw her with a man who had to be one of the Morgans," Buffy said sarcastically. "I should have known! What happened? She dump you for him?"
"Shut up, Slayer!" Spike was suddenly furious. "You DON'T know anything about it! And- you care even less!" In one swift movement he shoved his chair back and stormed from the room.
In the long dark hallway the Slayer caught up to him, catching at his arm.
"I'm sorry, Spike."
He kept on walking.
"Wait," she pleaded.
He rounded on her, blue eyes blazing. "You're NOT sorry, Slayer."
She looked at him steadily. "I am. I...know what it's like to love someone, and get hurt."
"You don't know anything, Slayer. You're a baby."
"Oooh!" Now it was her eyes that were flashing green fire. "I'm sick of being treated like a child!"
He grabbed her shoulders. "Then stop acting like one!" He released her and strode off down the dark hall.
"Ohh...you make me so mad! I hate you! I...owww!"
Spike spun around at the Slayer's shriek...to see her hopping up and down clutching one foot.
"What..." Then he realized...Buffy had kicked off her floppy beach sandals in order to run after him. And the hall was crammed with boxes and crates that held artifacts Giles was using to renovate the museum. She'd smashed her foot against one of them and was whimpering in pain.
"Here, " he ordered, "let me see." He went down on one knee; and Buffy balanced herself with a hand on his shoulder. Gently he lifted her small bare foot to examine it.
"A bad bruise; you didn't break anything."
"But it hurts," she whispered tearfully.
Spike shook his head in exasperation. It was just like her to chase him down this dim corridor without watching for obstructions.
Buffy craned her neck, peering all around. "D'you see my shoes? They have to be here someplace."
After much searching he finally found one; but the other was hopelessly lost.
"C'mon, I'll take you home," he said, resigned.
She limped beside him for a few steps.
He stopped abruptly. "Oh hell! Come here..." He swung her up off her feet.
"Spike!" she squeaked, but he thought there was more surprise than dismay in her voice. He headed down the steps and out to the parking lot; her weight impeded him not at all. It was like his entire body remembered the feel of her from another time and place. But he never paused to ask himself how that could be.
"Buffy!" Joyce's voice sounded the alarm- her eyes went to Spike, seeking reassurance.
"I'm okay, mom," Buffy chirped. I lost my shoe; that's why Spike is playing Rhett Butler."
Spike glanced at her sharply; but understood as Joyce's worried face cleared.
"Hot chocolate?" she suggested happily.
Spike set the Slayer down on one of the kitchen stools. Already the discolored bruise on her foot looked less livid...he decided it would heal without further treatment.
He suddenly remembered the feel of her foot in his hand- so small and warm and soft- almost like a child's. He had the uneasy feeling that the memory wouldn't be easy to forget.
In the end, after conversation and chocolate and even a little television...he found himself driving through Sunnyhell. He'd intended to go back to his hotel; but somehow the mansion drew him.
Angel hadn't moved out...he'd simply left. Left his clothes in the closet, his books on the shelf, his memory imprinted on everything.
Spike roamed out into the garden, where Dru had once vowed to sleep naked in a hole in the ground. Where Angel and the Slayer had fought...where Spike had grabbed Dru and run, leaving the Slayer with a sword poised to take her head off.
Little blonde head.
He turned abruptly; and left the mansion. He never wanted to see it again.
Joyce picked up her book and started upstairs; but managed to catch the phone on the first ring.
"I'm sorry," she said firmly, "Buffy isn't available right now. Why don't you try calling her dorm in the morning?"
The young man tried to insist, but Joyce cut him off. He wasn't one of Buffy's close-knit circle...and he wasn't Spike.
Vampire though he was, it was sweet of Spike to carry Buffy; and to bring her safely home. Joyce smiled down at her sleeping daughter, and wished she could keep Buffy right where she was until she turned forty.
Whatever that young man wanted could wait.
"Want to stay?" Willow asked Oz. "Buffy's spending the night at home."
"You sure you're ok?" he asked anxiously.
"I'm fine. And, I'll be even better if you stay," Willow assured him. She unlocked her door, which was directly across from Rei Takeda's room.
"Shhh, I guess Rei must be asleep. " Willow cautioned Oz. "It is pretty late." She took Oz's hand, and led him inside....
Buffy slept late. She'd been unusually tired, and for once her dreams failed to trouble her. Instead they were vague images of herself, cradled in strong arms...arms that made her feel protected and caressed...
The result was that she was late for her first class and Joyce had to drive her. Afterwards she'd have gone back to the dorm; but Riley Finn was waiting for her.
"There's a Hitchcock film fest at Randolph Hall tonight," he informed her. "First up is To Catch A Thief. Want to go?"
Buffy hesitated. "I'm...not sure. I mean, I may be busy tonight."
Riley shrugged good-naturedly. "Then, let's get some lunch and eat it out on the lawn," he suggested. "That way I still get some time with you."
He really was nice, she decided. "Love to."
Porter Jones scowled when he saw them. There was Buffy Summers- the one girl in the school to capture his attention- sitting on the grass beside Riley Finn.
How he hated Finn! He had only to smile at a girl, and she was his.
"Not this time," Porter vowed. "For once in your life, golden boy, you're going to find out what being a loser feels like!"
"You were always a loser...now you're a pathetic loser."
That's what she'd said to him, last time.
Spike lay sleepless on the firm mattress of Sunnydale's finest hotel and tried to put the Slayer out of his mind.
But she lingered with maddening persistence; and so did her term for him...."loser." No, "pathetic loser."
He'd proved her right, haring down to Brazil after Drusilla- thinking he'd found some new insight on how to regain her love. He'd made a sodding fool of himself, he had....strutting round, thinking she cared about him.
She'd moved on from the chaos demon to another vampire- but she'd seemed pleased to see Spike. He actually thought they'd reconcile; they'd had their...separations...before.
But it wasn't working and he knew it wasn't working; and he began to wonder just how much he'd deceived himself in the past. How much of Dru was the real Dru, and how much the image he had created to worship?
He tried to stop these tormenting new thoughts...to throw himself into the bloodthrill of the hunt. To lose himself in Dru, the way he always had before. Instead he felt he'd go as mad as she was...roaming restlessly from place to place, unable to settle to anything or to calm the raging turmoil within him.
One dark night on the Avenida he made up his mind. He'd leave Brazil and go...maybe back to Europe, ... back to the States? A picture formed in his mind...clear skies and warmth instead of this tropical heat...NO! No, he wasn't thinking about California, he wasn't!
Besides, he couldn't go back there; this time, her patience at an end, the Slayer WOULD stake him!
Unless...she didn't.
He argued with himself until he was exhausted, unable to reach a decision.
But...that same night...Drusilla disappeared.
After lunch, Buffy had another class; so it was late in the afternoon before she finally returned to the dorm. Humming, she unlocked the door- and screamed.
Oz lay face down on the floor, an ugly gash across the back of his head...
He was not breathing.
"Giles...he looked like he'd been worked over by King Kong," Buffy said shakily.
"More likely a particularly powerful vampire," Giles suggested.
"Never mind who or how; the question is, what's happened to Willow?" Xander was wound his tightest.
"Calm down, Xander," Giles ordered. "Until Oz regains consciousness, we have no way of knowing that."
"Oh yes we do, mate." Spike strode in, long leather coat flapping. "Hello, cutie," he added belatedly, seeing Buffy crouched beside Giles.
"You know where Willow is?" Xander asked eagerly.
"No. But I do know that the Morgans have her." He tossed a note to Giles.
Giles looked up frowning. "They are offering to trade Drusilla for the Key of Math."
Spike nodded grimly. "Right you are, Watcher. They figure I get them the key; they hand over Dru."
Buffy spoke up at last. "So, Spike, why aren't you doing exactly that?"
He met her eyes levelly. "I'm not fool enough to believe the Morgans will keep their end of the bargain, Slayer. I need back-up on this!"
She hesitated, then acquiesced. "It's a deal. You get Dru, we get Willow...even if it means we have to give up the key."
Spike felt better knowing the Slayer was willing to help. "Fair enough, pet. But first we need to make the deal, so we can follow them back to wherever they're holed up."
"I'm extremely reluctant to surrender the key, but it seems we have no alternative," said an upset Giles. "Perhaps we could substitute a facsimile?"
"No, we couldn't," Spike refused. "The Morgans know all about that Celtic stuff, old son. They'll spot it at once if you try to put in a ringer."
"I suppose you're right," Giles conceded.
"Willow's worth a hundred keys!" Xander was becoming increasingly agitated. "We have to get her back!"
Buffy put her hand on the boy's arm. "It's ok, Xand. We'll get her back; and stake the Morgans, too!"
Xander calmed under her touch; but Spike glowered. In a way he didn't care to analyze, he didn't like seeing Buffy's hand on Xander's arm. The delicate pink ovals of her nails showed against the deep blue of his shirt...Spike felt his demon stirring.
Then...the door opened.
And Oz stumbled into the room.
"And, I have to find Willow," Oz insisted. "Resolve face."
His expression never changed; but Spike noticed that everyone promptly swallowed whatever objections they were about to make- and his respect for the werewolf grew stronger.
"I'm going to try to track Willow," Oz continued. "Who's coming with me?"
"Me." Xander said at once. Buffy gave Giles a questioning look. "You think it's the Morgans who have Willow?"
"It...seems likely," Giles said cautiously. He did not care to mention the three sacrifices in front of Oz; but the others promptly made the connection.
Xander's face darkened. "Where's that key, Giles?"
The Watcher went to his book-lined shelves and unerringly selected a copy of Yeats' CELTIC TWILIGHT. The center of the volume had been hollowed out; and yielded the Key of Math.
Three hours later they were back in the museum, tired and discouraged.
"Before, you were able to pick up Willow's trail through her degree of fear," Giles said thoughtfully. "It's possible she may be drugged."
No one dared say what they were all thinking- that it was possible Willow was already dead.
"There's only one more thing to try; Spike has to make the deal," Buffy declared. She passed the iron key to the blond vampire. "Once we find out where they are, we can do a raid and resue Willow and Drusilla."
Somewhat to Spike's surprise, nobody questioned the Slayer's decision; or pointed out that Dru wasn't exactly a kidnap victim.
Still, he reminded himself that she was undoubtedly in danger; and the only sensible alternative was another alliance with the Slayer. And, if the thought of that alliance made his heart beat again...
He forced that idea out of his mind. He had an obligation to Drusilla- a responsibility that went beyond any feelings of betrayal and abandonment. She'd used him badly...what of it? Now she needed him; and her need was a clarion call he couldn't ignore.
Buffy met his gaze; and smiled slightly. "I have a plan!"
Spike observed that Giles blenched, Xander swallowed, and Oz tensed.
Still...."That's more than I have, luv," Spike admitted.
When he heard the plan, he was no longer puzzled at their reactions.
Spike waited, seemingly relaxed and at ease, leaning casually against a tree. Buffy felt a certain admiration for the blond vampire; he must be worried sick about Drusilla, but no one observing him would suspect that he was at all nervous.
They seemed to materialize right out of the ground....eight vampires, forming a half-circle around the dark-bearded man Buffy had last seen dancing with Willow.
"Hello, Spike. We meet at last. Drusilla often speaks of you." He turned his head slightly. "Don't you, Dru?"
To Buffy's unspeakable shock, Drusilla stepped forward to stand beside the dark man.
"Spike!" she said uncertainly. "You came back...but I didn't see you. It's all dark where you are."
"It'll be all right, pet." Spike spoke slowly and patiently, the way he always did to Dru. He was very worried. Buffy's plan had been to hand over the key, then track the Morgans back to their lair, mounting a raid to free Willow and Dru. Alternatively, if the Morgans kept their side of the bargain (which no one thought likely) then Spike would whisk Dru to safety while the others captured the brothers.
Now, though, only only Morgan was present; and why were there so many minions? Even as he puzzled, two more apeared...and each vampire carried a bound, unconscious girl.
Buffy bit her lip, worried because Willow's entire body was limp. Then her eyes moved on to the other girl; and she gasped as she recognized Rei Takeda.
"You see, Spike," the dark man was smiling in amusement, "we require THREE sacrifices."
"Deron?" Drusilla's voice was tremulous in appeal. "Miss Edith wants me...can we go home now?"
Spike's mind raced. Deron? Then- where was Huw?
"Soon, Drusilla. When Spike has handed over the key." Deron held out his hand, careful to keep his body between Spike and Drusilla.
Meanwhile the graveyard was growing crowded; Spike counted at least twenty vampires assembled.
Buffy shifted uneasily. The fog was thickening, and she could no longer see Giles.
Spike shrugged, reached into his pocket and held out the key. But he made no move to put it in Deron's hand.
"Send Dru over here first."
Deron shook his head. "I already told you, Spike...we need three."
"Then, you're out of luck, peaches," Spike sneered...and flung the key as far as he could.
"That was a mistake," Deron said calmly; and twisted Dru's arm until the bones snapped. She screamed as Spike jumped for Deron...and the hulking minion behind him swung a club with all his might. Spike went down...and never stirred.
The minion raised the club again; and dusted as Buffy loosed a bolt from her crossbow. She dared not risk a shot at Deron- Drusilla was in the way.
Then, she heard Drusilla's piping voice. "Spike didn't truly throw the key away...he's still got it."
Buffy groaned. If ever Drusilla's psychic ramblings were unwelcome, it was now. She could barely see Spike...she dropped the crossbow and grabbed her stake. Buffy dusted two vampires, and had nearly fought her way to Spike when she felt another presence behind her.
She whirled, stake at the ready. "Wha... Porter?"
"Buffy." Porter grabbed her arm. "I've been meaning to talk to you...to warn you about Riley. He's not right for you...you belong with me!"
She stared at him, speechless with shock. Then... "Not now, Porter!"
"Yes, NOW!" he insisted, eyes glittering. "I'll make you listen!"
Then Buffy was only aware of flumes of color in a black background...that ended in total darkness.
Deron stood up slowly, the Key of Math in one hand and Drusilla in the other.
"Got it?" His brother's voice, nearby.
Deron held up the key. "I have my prize."
"And...I have mine." Huw was strangely smiling. "Let's go."
"What about..." Deron pointed to the battle.
"Leave them, they don't matter." He strode purposefully away, and Deron, still clutching Drusilla, followed swiftly. When Huw was in this mood, he never stood against him. He wouldn't have admitted it; but Deron was sometimes frightened of his younger brother.
Willow was supported by Oz, who had a nasty cut above his right ear. Xander had a black eye; while Giles had got away with a few cracked ribs.
His eyes went past them, searching.
"Drusilla went with them," Willow said softly.
"What about...the Slayer?" Spike asked.
"They captured Buffy." Xander'sface was grim.
"We have to find her," Giles said tensely. "Before they can do the spell. Willow, can you remember anything?"
She shook her head, stifling a sob.
Giles turned desperately to Oz, but the werewolf shook his head. "Her scent is on all of us...I can't pick up a trail."
Spike spoke up suddenly. "I smell blood. Lots of blood, coming from..." he was up, moving in the direction from which Buffy had last been seen. With fear in their eyes, the group of friends followed.
They found the body a few feet further on...he'd been eviscerated, his intestines spilling out like a writhing nest of snakes.
Willow made a strangled sound, and retched; Xander paled; and Oz looked away. Giles' mouth twitched, and even Spike felt his stomach clench.
"We need to find them, people!" he snapped.
"We're all ears, bloodsucker!" Xander flared back. "What do you suggest?"
"Wait..." Oz spoke up. "I think maybe I can track..." he nodded at the corpse, "...whoever did THAT to him. He'd have the fresh blood all over him, see? I want to try."
Willow, still sweating and smelling of vomit, watched Oz's efforts to take the scent, and shuddered.
"I knew him," she said mournfully. "His name was Porter Jones, and I THINK maybe he was in love with Buffy."
Spike snorted, but before he could say anything Oz exclaimed, "Got it! This way."
They all ran after the werewolf as he sped from the graveyard.
"But we MUST have three, Huw," Deron said placatingly.
"We DID...until you let the redhead slip away!" snarled his brother. "And now...NOW you expect me to surrender my future queen? Why in hell should I?"
"We need three, Huw," Devon was implacable, knowing he had an unanswerable argument. "There isn't time to look for another victim. Listen, once we acquire this power, there's nothing we can't do! You can have any woman in the world; but we need to cast the spell exactly at midnight."
Huw still scowled; and Deron waited tensely.
Finally, he nodded slowly.
When she forced open her eyes, she found herself in a nightmare even worse than Kralick...she was tied to a small platform suspended right about a huge vat of water.
Beside her, bound to one of the steel beams, stood Drusilla, on a similar platform surrounded by kindling.
On the far end, Rei Takeda perched on a makeshift gallows whimpering dully.
"Good, you're awake."
Buffy found herself staring into the familiar face of Riley Finn. With a tremendous effort she concealed her shock.
"Hmmm, I'm guessing you're one of the Morgan brothers."
Riley smirked. "I'm Huw."
Buffy frowned. "But...the beach..."
"Another Celtic spell..." Huw explained. "Temorary...lasts about three hours maximum; but very useful when it comes to allaying suspicion. Soon, though, I won't need it. Because- I'm about to become the most powerful vampire in the world."
His voice took on a note of genuine regret. "I was planning to turn you, Buffy." Huw ignored her shudder of disgust. "But you're needed for the sacrifice...a drowning for Teutates, a burning for Taranis, and a hanging for Esus."
"Drowning again," muttered Buffy.
"Sorry," Huw shrugged, "but when I have the power of transmogrification, nothing will withstand me!"
Buffy said no more; she had the sickening feeling that he was right.
Deron stepped up behind his brother. "It's time."
Huw nodded. "Lower the platform."
Buffy struggled wildly but couldn't loosen her bonds. From somewhere above she heard Drusilla's scream and the crackle of flames...
The cold water closed over her.
"There's an old fire escape," Oz pointed out. "Someone could try to get in from the roof."
"I'm going straight in through the front." Xander hoisted his favorite crossbow. "They won't be expecting it, Giles. And they can't have that many guards left; we took out quite a few at the cemetery."
Spike looked at him. "So will I...think you could cover me?"
Xander nodded.
"Then Willow and I will take the back," Giles shifted the flame-thrower in his hands, while Willow grabbed a bag crammed with holy water.
"Let's go," Giles ordered. "Oh...there's also a laundy chute under the stairs....leads down to the basement. Buffy used it once."
Th back door was chained and padlocked. "We'll have to burn through it," Giles decided.
Willow sniffed the air. "Giles...I smell smoke!"
Spike caught the scent too, growling low in his throat. Xander spared him a glance; and then brought up the crossbow. "Ready?"
They went in fast...and the four guards on duty were overwhelmed. Xander took out one with a lucky shot; but his second bolt went wide. Spike staked two, but the third would have had him if he hadn't remembered the Slayer's actions with a chair. He grabbed a ricketty old one and snapped a rung, plunging it into the guard's back just as he was about to bite Xander. The old hotel reeked of blood and smoke.
Then they heard the scream.
"Down there!" Xander fought his way to the stairs.
Spike was about to follow when he remembered the laundry chute...he plunged down feet first, somehow, miraculously, landing upright.
The basement resembled a scene from Dante. The Japanese girl, a dagger protruding from her breast, dangled helplessly from a noose...one glance at her livid face and the angle of her neck told Spike she was already dead.
But the others...the Slayer was completely submerged in the water, her blonde hair floating around her like Ophelia.
And Dru...Dru was shrieking with terror as flames licked at her feet.
Deron spun around to face Spike; Huw merely hefted the Key of Math and continued to chant the ritual. Spike's blow sent Deron reeling back...he careened into Huw, who dropped the Key and began scrabbling for it frantically.
But Spike had gained a precious second; and he didn't hesitate. In one swift movement he heaved the Slayer's small body above the surface.
But her bonds still held; and Drusilla, seeing him so near, began screaming his name.
"Spike! Spike...help me!"
Desperately he wrenched at the ropes; and finally, after what seemed eons but could have been no more than a few seconds, he felt them give. He hauled Buffy up, over the side....
"Spike!" Drusilla screamed again, "Save me...."
There was a faint whoosh as the gauzy white dress went up in flames; and now her hair was alight....and still the ghastly shrieks were echoing throughout the chamber. "Spiikkkkkeee!"
He tried to get to her...it was Oz and the Watcher who held him back, dragging on him full-stength. Steam rose from his wet clothes as he reached for Drusilla...but even as he flung the others off, she turned to ash with a final, heartrending scream.
At that point his mind shut down....images that he could see became intangible as shadows, and failed to register. Xander giving CPR to the Slayer, until she retched up the water she'd swallowed with a "I HATE when they drown me!" Xander shushing her with a sidelong glance at Dru's ashes....
Willow grabbing the Key from Huw Morgan, while Oz downed Devon with a well-placed shot from his crossbow.
Huw Morgan, shouting in agony as he was engulfed in a firestream aimed by Giles....
"Good," Spike thought distantly. "Let him feel the burn."
And then it was over; flames crackling eagerly as the fire found ready purchase in the old hotel. He felt them grabbing him, dragging him...but when he'd made it out they left him alone.
He waited until their entire attention was focused on the Slayer; and then crawled away into the darkness.
When she got home Buffy found him there, huddling behind the kitchen door.
"C'mon, Spike." Gently, Buffy urged him to his feet and led him up the stairs. "Mom's away tonight; good thing I won't have to explain this."
There was no response; the vampire at her side was a zombie. He was almost as wet as she was, but whereas she was shivering convulsively, he was like a sculpture carved from ice.
She took him into the bathroom and turned on the shower. "Mom would kill me if she knew, but the important thing is to get warm."
Swiftly, not daring to think about what she was doing, she stripped off their sodden clothes and pulled him into the shower, under a spray as warm as she could tolerate. They stayed until her shivering stopped; but he showed no reaction. She towelled him dry; and he was as impassive and obedient as a child.
She found a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt that had belonged to her father.
"Here Spike, put these on."
Buffy was shivering again; she put on her favorite blck and white pajamas, first pulling the shades and closing the curtains against the dawn.
"Okay, Spike, how're you doing?"
He was still standing where she'd left him, gripping the clothes.
Buffy took charge. "Lift your arms," she instructed, slipping the shirt over his head. "Now," she held out the boxers,"just put your feet..." she pulled them up, feeling the strangeness of dressing a vampire.
"Now, I don't know about you, but if you're as cold as I am, you're a regular icicle. That's what you feel like, anyway."
Buffy led Spike over to the bed and helped him slide beneath the covers. He still looked like a statue, and the chill of his skin disturbed her.
She bit her lip, then shrugged. "I owe you my life, Spike; why balk at sharing a bed?" Quickly, before she could change her mind, she slipped into bed beside him. He lay rigid...staring up at the ceiling.
Buffy didn't know what to do; slowly she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, seeming to realize for the first time that she was there. He cocked his head, studying her curiously as if wondering how she'd ended up beside him...then rolled onto his side so that he was facing her.
Then suddenly Spike wrapped both arms around her, held her to him in a hard, punishing grip, and began to cry.
His entire body shook, from cold and from grief; and Buffy held his head against her breast and tried to comfort him with her touch.
"It's ok, Spike...everything's going to be ok," she whispered, over and over.
After awhile, his shaking stopped, along with his tears.
Yet still they held each other, the vampire and the Slayer, all through the night.
They slept far into the next evening; and Spike woke first.
"What..." he was aware of a warm presence against him, blonde hair tickling his nose...his eyes cracked open and he smiled his satisfaction. In that one instant, before the return of memory, he knew only a deep and abiding contentment that was unlike anything he'd experienced in his long, turbulent life.
But then the memory crashed in on him, bringing with it such a jolt of agony that he had to muffle his outcries in the pillow.
Slowly, reluctantly, Spike disentangled himself from the Slayer.
He dressed rapidly; at the window he hesitated and allowed himself one glance ...he was fighting his impulse to return to her bed, and seek comfort there.
He shook his head abruptly. There was no comfort, not for him.
The rough bark of the tree scraped against his hands, but he hardly felt it. The dark street beckoned. He was almost running by the time he reached his car.
But Whistler was waiting, leaning casually aginst the hood. "Taking a trip, Spike?"
"Get the bloody hell out of my way, Wanker." Spike was spoiling for a fight.
Whistler wasn't perturbed. "Where to?"
"I'm leaving." Spike opened the front door. "And if you're still there in two minutes, I'm going to drive right over your body."
"Where to?" Whistler repeated.
"Anywhere. Away from this hole! Now sod off!"
"I'd think again," Whistler advised. "If you go, you'll only have to come right back."
This arrested Spike's attention. "What do you mean?"
"Remember, I told you....you had three days to decide if you wanted to earn your soul back?"
Spike laughed harshly. "You can keep the bloody thing!"
"The decision was made when, once AGAIN," Whistler emphasized, "you joined forces with the Slayer."
Spike's jaw dropped. "No! I didn't...intend...you can't force me to do this! I have to leave!"
"Why?" Whistler asked blandly.
Spike smashed his hands against the steering wheel. "I let Dru die! I loved her for decades; and I let her die screaming my name! Poor Dru, she always counted on me to protect her...she shouldn't have, should she?"
"You could only save one of them," Whistler pointed out, not unsympathetically.
"I didn't save my princess," Spike said dully. "I saved my...the Slayer."
"Don't you wonder why?" Whistler asked again.
Spike stared at him bleakly. "You're saying, I MEANT to do that? I chose...good over evil, or something? What utter rot!"
"Nahhh. " Whistler held his palms up. "No need to complicate things. In a crisis, people save what's important to them- what matters most."
Spike froze. "That isn't true!"
"No?" The demon looked astonished. "What a surprise! In that case, you'd better get going." He stepped away from the car.
Automatically, the blond vampire turned on the ignition. Slowly, hands shaking, he drove away from Sunnydale.
"It appears you made an error," Giles said quietly, stepping out of the shadows.
"Nahhh, he'll be back. He's got no place else to go," shrugged Whistler. "Besides, he'll want..."
"His soul?" Giles suggested, when Whistler paused.
"Call it that, if you want," Whistler replied enigmatically. "Spike wouldn't, though."
"Oh?" Giles was nonplussed. "What would Spike call it?"
Whistler smiled his little half-smile.
"Love."
The End to be concluded