"The magician Merlin had a strange laugh, and it was heard when nobody else was laughing...He laughed because he knew what was coming next."
Robertson Davies.
When they told him she was dead, he felt like his insides had been ripped out.
Almost he lost control; but long years of discipline kept him functional. Nothing could prevent the game face though...it rippled on for an instant. But Electra and Vladimir didn't notice. More importantly, neither did Dru...
"She's dead, Spike! The Slayer is dead!" She began dancing, the long white dress flowing about her. "She put my Angel in hell, but she can't do anything now." Her delighted laughter rang out.
No one noticed how still he'd grown...how cold. Or if they did, they put it down to jealousy, perhaps because he wasn't the one credited for the Slayer's death
"Do you want to see her, Spike?" Electra's long red hair trailed across her blood-red mouth. "She's almost completely drained."
"Yes, Spike!" Dru's voice was excited. "I had some...I had some of her blood!"
"Of course you did, dear," Electra smiled at her. "And- we saved some for Spike too." She handed him a cup; and he forced himself to take it with a nod of thanks. But when he tried raising it to his lips, he felt a wave of nausea.
"Come and look at her, Spike." Dru was urging him forward while Vladimir smiled indulgently...in the back room the light from dozens of candles flickered.
Until that instant, he'd thought it was a mistake. But there she was- the Slayer. Small and blonde and deceptively fragile-looking.... lying there with a broken neck. He couldn't force himself to enter that room. Instead, he turned and pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered to celebrate the triumph of Electra and Vladimir...the vampire crowd now rejoicing in the death of the Slayer. Somehow he found himself outside still clutching the cup of her blood. Numbly he walked through the streets of Sunnyhell...
She was his enemy...always had been...and then, somehow, they'd found themselves allies in a scheme to stop Angelus from destroying the world. He'd honored his deal with her...just. He'd saved Giles, he'd taken Dru away, he'd done what he had promised. No more- no less. So...why did he feel this way? Like something inside him was sick, and shriveled up with pain? Surely it wasn't...couldn't be... grief? But...that wasn't possible. His greatest enemy was dead; why wasn't he celebrating with the others?
"What's the matter with me?" In a paroxysm of anguish he hurled the cup at the nearest tree, hearing it smash, smelling her blood. He dropped his head into his hands. Slowly, awareness of his surroundings seeped into his brain. This tree...this house. He'd been here before, sitting on the living-room couch making nervous conversation with her mother. This was where the Slayer lived...had lived. Her bedroom window was dark...
A sudden impulse seized him; and he scaled the tree, easing open the window...she must have forgotten. Forgotten how she'd once invited him into her home...Spike switched on the bedside lamp and looked around.
The room was full of her.... her hairbrush on the dresser, her cross in its velvet case, her schoolbooks on the desk. He picked up a framed snapshot and studied it- the Slayer smiled back at him, looking much as she had that night at the school...when they'd locked eyes and tossed their weapons away.
"Buffy..." he whispered...it was the first time he had ever said her name out loud. In a swift, furtive gesture, he slipped the photograph into the pocket of his leather coat. Then...a small blue leather book caught his eye; and he picked it up and opened it. His eyes widened...it was...a journal of some sort...it was her diary! He began to read...so absorbed that he knew nothing other than the words on the page that set her voice echoing through his head.
Then...there was one blinding flash of light; and he knew nothing at all.
"I saw your body!" Spike's voice sounded odd in his own ears.
The Slayer glared down at him. "Well, duh! If I broke into *your* house, just when *you* were about to go to bed, then I'd see your body too!"
Defensively, she crossed her arms in front in a vain attempt to hide the fact she was wearing only her underwear. She grabbed her Sunnydale T-shirt and pulled it over her head. He made no attempt to get up from the floor, staring at Buffy in stupefaction. And then- helplessly, he began to laugh.
Her initial anger gave way to puzzlement at the sight of her mortal enemy lying on the floor of her bedroom, rocking with laughter. Every time he tried to stop...to speak...the outbursts came again.
"You're hysterical, Spike," Buffy muttered ruefully. Then, as she watched him, her eyes widened in discovery. "Hey...you really are!"
She grabbed a glass of water from her nightstand and dashed it into his face. That did the trick. Sputtering, dripping wet, he roared.
"What the bloody hell did you do *that* for?"
"You were acting weird," she said calmly, handing him a towel.
He was careful not to look at her. "They told me you were dead."
"Dead? No. Been there, done that. And who told you?" she asked.
"Vladimir and Electra." He spat out the names.
"Huh...where do you vamps get these names?" Buffy shook her head in disbelief.
"Where'd you get Buffy?" He demanded, side tracked. He'd always been curious about her name.
"Never mind that!" the Slayer snapped. She sat down on her bed, frowning thoughtfully. "So...this Vladimir and Electron..."
"Electra," He corrected.
"Whatever...they're in charge of the Hellmouth these days?"
"Hardly," Spike shook his head. "Top man these days is a character called Janus the Corinthian. But- " his gaze sharpened," how is it you don't know about the Corinthian taking over? Where have you been?"
Buffy blushed. It had been difficult enough explaining her absence to her friends; but to her mortal enemy?
"I...uh, I ran away. " her voice was very quiet. "I can't explain...or justify it...I didn't see any other options." She gave him a look of appeal. "But it didn't change anything...I couldn't run from myself. So yesterday I came back."
"Me too, " he admitted.
She relaxed at that, stretching out on her bed. "So you think they found a ringer?"
"What?" He asked absently. He'd been thinking...for such a small girl, she really had long legs.
"Somebody who looks like me," she explained, leaning back against the headboard.
He wrenched his eyes away. "Must have."
"But why? Some kind of vamp power play?"
"It's possible, " he agreed. Vladimir and Electra have been gathering supporters...they need help to take down Janus."
"Where do you fit in, Spike?" Buffy challenged.
He hesitated. "I owe Electra a debt. She was the one who helped me get Drusilla out of Prague. Now, it's payback. She can demand a service of me- which I am free to refuse, once. The second service I must perform, or forfeit my life."
"Wow," Buffy commented, awed. "So, you think what she'll ask is that you help her against this Janus guy, right?"
He shrugged. "It seems reasonable, pet."
"Hmmm, know what? I think I'll call Giles...this looks like something we'll get into anyway." Buffy rolled over on her bed, reaching for the phone. Spike stared, fascinated. It was hard enough to keep his mind on business when she was still, but ... He got up hastily.
"You do that, Slayer. Under the circumstances I think we might be best off if we pool our information. " He swung out of her window, glancing back at her. He noticed that the T-shirt was riding up slightly. Spike leaned over to get a better look...and lost his balance. Cursing, he fell out of the tree crashing to the ground with enough force to jar every bone in his body.
This time he moved through the crowd easily, undisturbed by the revelry. His *nerve storm* of earlier- so he thought of it- was over; and now he couldn't understand why he'd gone off half-cocked that way. What did he care whether the Slayer lived or died? Yet...deep down inside.... some small, secret part of him was...laughing.
Of course the dead girl was not the Slayer, he was amazed he'd thought so for an instant. There was a superficial resemblance, but this girl wasn't nearly as pretty. The Slayer was a taking little thing...sometimes Spike actually could see why Angel had fancied her. But right now he was more interested in what Electra and Vladimir had planned.
"So, Vladimir," he began, "tell me all about it...I want to know just how you killed the Slayer."
Vladimir stroked his long dark beard. He still wore the robe of the Franciscan monk he had once been; and this, along with the beard, gave him an unsettling resemblance to Rasputin.
"It was Electra's kill, Spike," Vladimir said proudly.
"Then, I'll have to ask Electra."
Spike could see her through the inner doorway, seated beside Drusilla. As he watched, she leaned forward and placed one hand affectionately on Dru's shoulder.
"Spike!" Dru caught sight of him and greeted him happily; but Electra frowned. She had no use for men, Spike knew- except for Vladimir, of course.
"Ducks, have you and Electra been catching up on old times?"
"Prague." Drusilla's eyes clouded.
Spike cursed himself; it was so easy for Dru's butterfly mind to veer in a new direction. "That's all over, pet," he said hastily, "thanks to Electra here." He met Electra's eyes, acknowledging the debt between them, promising the payment. Electra smiled in satisfaction.
"How did you take down the Slayer, Electra?" Spike inquired, opting for the direct approach.
"It was easy," Electra smirked. "I saw her in the cemetery, just after sundown, kneeling beside a grave. She had several stakes with her, but never got to use one."
Probably some kid planting geraniums, Spike thought cynically. But at least he had the answer to his question of whether Electra and Vladimir knew their kill was a phony. And they weren't likely to be found out until Buffy resurfaced after all, how many vampires had seen the Slayer up close, and lived to tell about it?
Drusilla was squealing in delight. "I killed a Slayer once, Electra! And Spike has killed two!" Electra didn't like being reminded of that. "But not this one, right Spike? In fact, I heard rumors she nearly crippled you! Proved too much for you, huh?" She laughed- an artificial titter he disliked.
"Yes, Electra," he agreed amiably. "She certainly did."
"I can't discover anything about this Janus," Giles said irritably. "If there's a power play among the vampires, we'd better learn all that we can about the participants."
"Spike is going to try to find out more," Buffy put in.
"Hmmm, I don't know that I like the idea of putting our trust in Spike," Giles demurred. "It's true he kept his word before when it suited his interests- but now he is just as likely to inform Vladimir and Electra that they killed the wrong girl."
"I don't think so," Buffy protested. "He owes Electra a debt; and he doesn't like that...I can tell."
"Buffy, vampire debts are nearly always paid by a forfeit system," Giles explained. "The vampire performs a service of some sort. This...might qualify, as far as Spike is concerned."
"I don't believe he'll do that," Buffy said slowly, not feeling nearly as certain as she wanted to sound.
"I sincerely hope you're right," Giles said grimly.
"But Spike," Drusilla pouted, "why can't we both stay here?"
Vladimir barely concealed his smile. He'd been quick to offer Spike and Drusilla a room in the large mansion he and Electra had claimed for their own; but Spike knew that, if they accepted, he was totally committed to supporting those two in the upcoming struggle against Janus.
He made a decision. "I've already taken a room at the Beaumont Inn," he named a small hostelry on the other side of town, "but I'm sure you'd be more comfortable here, ducks."
It was done; he'd achieved mobility for himself by giving Electra and Vladimir a hostage...Dru.
Drusilla's dark eyes glittered like jet. "I will stay," she said obediently, "and I will dream...and my dreams will show me the way to find my Angel again."
Spike clenched his fists in frustration; Electra smiled. "It's settled then. It will be wonderful, to have Drusilla with us."
Spike took his leave, glad to get away from Electra. And it wasn't until he'd reached his room at the old inn that he realized the truth, for once, he was also glad to get away from Drusilla.
"That's ridiculous," Buffy told Spike, "they're going to know I'm not a vampire."
"Of course," he said in exasperation. "But it won't matter. By taking you there, I am making a claim...I'm telling everyone that I am your intended sire. No one else will try anything, because they know you're mine! Uh...in the vampire sense of the word," he added hastily, noting the expression in her eyes.
Buffy sighed. She'd been startled to arrive home from Giles' apartment to find Spike sprawled out on her bed; but once she'd heard his plan, her surprise had turned to shock. Vladimir and Electra, along with their supporters, were holding a gathering at the Bronze this evening...a gathering that was meant as a direct challenge to Janus the Corinthian. And Spike intended that the two of them should go.
"I'll do it," Buffy decided.
"Good," he said casually, "better get changed."
She shrugged and turned toward her closet and a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Because she could tell that her things weren't in quite the same order as before.... someone had done some rummaging.
"You won't find it," she tossed nonchalantly over her shoulder.
"Find what?" he asked warily.
"My diary," she replied sweetly. "Isn't that what you were searching for?"
"Whatever makes you think I'd be interested in your girlish outpourings?" he sneered. "For your information, I was trying to discover if you had anything reasonably sophisticated to wear tonight.... which you haven't. You'd better make do with that little short black thing."
"Why not?" she agreed calmly. "With my life the way it is, it's only natural a vampire should pick out an outfit for me. Oh...it's in the bottom drawer of my desk."
"But I already loo...I mean, I don't care where it is!" Glaring at her, Spike turned his back. Grinning, she reached for the dress he'd selected...
The Bronze was crowded- mostly with vampires, but there were quite a few humans as well.
"Are they all the property of some vampire?" Buffy whispered to Spike.
He looked amused. "No, most of them are just wannabes, looking for any vampire willing to sire them." At the expression on her face, his grin faded. "Slayer, immortality does have its charms."
"If you say so," Buffy retorted. "Which one is Electra?"
"Can't you tell?" Spike could; Electra stood at the bottom of the stairs, all glittering white dress and flowing red hair, surrounded by her minions.
"Is that her?" Buffy sounded surprised. "She's gorgeous. So, what's the deal with Vladimir?" She'd already seen the burly monk and been singularly unimpressed.
Spike chuckled. "Now, that I couldn't tell you, pet...except that Electra hates all men- except Vladimir. Make whatever you like of that." He took her arm, leading her down into the heart of the gathering; and she observed the way the crowd parted for them. Yes, Spike definitely had quite a rep, she concluded. For his part, Spike was well aware of the notice- and the speculation- they were attracting. Some part of him was alarmed; but another, larger part was enjoying the attention. The Slayer always drew eyes to her...possessively; he slid one arm around her waist, locking her body against his.
Arrogantly he scanned the crowd, sending out an unspoken message that said, more clearly than words, See what I have? She's mine; and I'll kill anyone who comes between us!
"Spike!" Electra's voice was a curiously breathless purr. "Who is your little friend?" He wasn't prepared for that. "Uh.... it's Bu..."
"Bethany," she said quickly, elbowing him in the ribs.
"Bethany," repeated Electra, her eyes roving over the Slayer's body.
Spike was alarmed; this was an added complication they didn't need. His arm tightened around Buffy. "Come pet, let's get you something to drink," he said, steering her to the bar.
"Cafe melange," Buffy ordered, then whispered in Spike's ear, "is the redhead still there?" He risked a quick peek. Electra still stood where they had left her, her burning gaze fixed on Buffy. Now she was talking to Vladimir; and the two of them were cutting through the crowd purposefully.
"Spike." Vladimir put an insistent hand on his shoulder. "A word with you?"
It was not a request; and Spike grimly allowed himself to be led off into a corner. "Well, Vladimir?" he said impatiently, positioning himself to keep Buffy and Electra in sight.
"Ah...Spike. As you know, it has been a long time since Prague."
Spike tensed. Here it comes, he thought, the payback...
Vladimir was studying Electra and Buffy. "Where did you find her?"
"Who, the dolly?" Spike kept his own voice light. "I've known her for quite some time. But it's only recently that I was able to make her mine. Another vampire had a prior claim."
"Electra wants her," Vladimir said bluntly.
Spike kept his face impassive; but inside he was cringing. Fool that he was- not to have anticipated this! The deal was clear- Spike would hand over Buffy; and Electra would mark his bill paid in full. Except, of course, that Spike couldn't do that.
"I don't think so, mate," he said, outwardly calm. "I'm having a bit too much fun with her, right now. Besides, I really don't think she's Electra's type."
Vladimir's thick tufted brows met in a scowl. "Electra will be very much disappointed. *Very* disappointed." It was Electra's voice hissing in his ear. "Are you sure, Spike?"
"I'm sure." Spike allowed his eyes to narrow dangerously.
Vladimir saw it. "I *could* challenge you for her."
Spike felt a chill. A vampire was allowed to challenge another over a human; but any such fight was invariably to the death. Most vampires preferred not to risk it. He kept his voice neutral. "You *could* do that, Vladimir; but you'd better be sure you can take me."
He felt reasonably confident if it came to that; Vladimir was a giant of a man, and his strength was said to be prodigious but he was also slow, and Electra had always been the brains of their team. Buffy watched Electra and Vladimir arguing with Spike at least, they seemed to be arguing. The crowd was so thick that she'd actually lost sight of them for a second. She took another sip of her cafe melange; for some reason, it didn't seem as good as usual... A wave of dizziness hit her, and she clutched the edge of the bar.
Spike felt a surge of panic, where was Buffy? With Vladimir and Electra pressing him so close, he'd lost sight of her in that mob. He began to force his way toward the bar...
"Oohh! " Buffy took another staggering step forward; and felt someone grab her. "Let go!" Somehow, she'd gotten outside the Bronze... "Spike," she moaned. She felt someone lift her...and then the darkness closed in.
Spike was running desperately...how could he have lost the Slayer? He caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye; far down the street, a dark figure was turning the corner. The vampire carrying Buffy never saw what hit him. Spike snapped his neck with one hand; and seized the Slayer with the other. He strode off with her in his arms, heading for the Beaumont Inn; it would be easier than trying to climb that tree while holding her. Not that her weight impeded him at all...she was a wisp of a girl. He felt like he could carry her for hours and never tire.
By now he'd realized she been drugged, not merely knocked out and that knowledge made his face go taut as he placed her carefully on his bed. It was an indication of how far Electra and Vladimir were prepared to go; and how unassailable they thought themselves. The Slayer stirred, whimpering a little. He brushed her tumbled hair away from her face; and her eyelashes fluttered.
"Drugged," she whispered, "like...the frat party..."
"Party, ducks?" Was her mind wandering?
"Went...with Cordelia. But...they drugged...my drink. He...was going to rape me."
Spike's stomach clenched. A cold, killing wind began to blow through him. "You went to a party, and someone drugged and raped you?"
Weakly she shook her head. "Tried...but...the other one stopped him. Chained me...but I pulled the chains out of the wall."
I'll bet she did, Spike thought with grim amusement. "What happened to the one who wanted to rape you?" he demanded, suddenly.
Her eyes fluttered again, and then closed. "Prison..."
Spike grunted, dissatisfied. If I'd been there, pet, the wanker would never have survived to go to prison. I'd have ripped his heart out, and then dumped his carcass at your feet. And now he'd have to do the same to Vladimir and Electra.
It was almost dawn; gingerly, he stretched out on the bed beside Buffy. She seemed in no wise disturbed by his nearness; instead, she sighed and cuddled against him. He was startled; but her warmth felt pleasant against his cool skin. Tentatively, he slipped one arm around her; and drifted into sleep.
It was the tiniest sound that alerted him to the intruder. Someone was there directly outside the room. He tensed, prepared to move fast; and then heard footsteps scurrying away. Puzzled, he sat up; and the Slayer stirred and opened her eyes. Spike crossed to the door- and flung it wide. There was nothing there except a narrow box, beautifully wrapped.
"Do you think...a bomb?" Buffy asked, rolling off the bed?
"I don't think Vladimir and Electra go in for bombs," Spike said absently.
Buffy looked relieved. "Then, I'm going to open it!" She attacked the bow.
Spike had to laugh. "You're not afraid of anything except a bomb? What if it's a rattlesnake?"
She paused for an instant, then went back to ripping the paper off. "Why would they send a rattlesnake to a vampire?"
She lifted the lid. Inside the box was a porcelain doll, Miss Edith. It was lying atop a bed of ashes.
Giles paused outside the door of his bedroom. "Buffy?" he called softly.
"It's okay," her voice was very quiet.
Giles glanced in; they hadn't changed position. Spike still huddled on the bed, while Buffy sat watchfully beside him. Giles sighed, and turned away. Buffy heard the sigh; and for an instant she wondered if she'd been right to come here with her unwelcome companion. But she'd desperately needed to consult with Giles, and she couldn't risk remaining at the inn.
Spike lay still...his rage had spent itself, and now he was locked inside himself. It had taken all of Buffy's strength to prevent him from going after Vladimir and Electra immediately, but she'd finally succeeded. She was still wearing her black dress, and considered if she could risk changing into the extra clothes she kept at Giles' apartment.
But Spike stirred as she shifted position and opened his eyes. "Where are you going?"
"Just...I thought I'd...change." She waited, but he said no more; she moved to the door...
"Buffy." His voice started to shake. "Don't leave me. Please!"
She heard the edge of despair in his voice and went to him. "Spike..."
He looked at her. "Hold me?" It was part question, part demand.
Without hesitation, she climbed up onto the bed, slipping her arms around his shoulders. He cried then, the hard, painful sobs of a man who hadn't wept in so long he hardly remembered how...and she pulled his head against her shoulder and held him with all her might. It made the bad moment just bearable.
Finally the tears stopped; but he couldn't lift his head to look at her. He felt shamed by his weakness; but beyond that he felt a strange surreptitious pleasure at being in her arms. The initial shock of Drusilla's death was ebbing; he still felt fury at those who'd discarded her as casually as they had her doll, but he knew, with that unfailing honesty he permitted himself, that he wasn't devastated by grief. He had cared for Dru, he meant to avenge her; but already he was aware that he would not miss her. His love for her was the concern of a caring adult for a sick child; and behind that, perhaps there was even a bit of relief that he would no longer be burdened with her presence.
With a surge of self-loathing, he realized what he wanted to lie in the Slayer's arms, to let her *comfort* him... comfort him! Overwhelmed by sudden guilt, he jerked away from her. "Leave me alone!"
"Spike." Buffy said his name softly. "Please...let me just hold you."
"Why?" he said bitterly. "Mortal enemies, remember? You hate me."
Gently, she touched his face. "But...you're all I've got."
He stared at her; and his face vamped out. She didn't move or look away. Instead she held his gaze; and it was he who faltered.
"Help me," he whispered. "Help me kill them."
"I will," she nodded, "we'll kill them together."
When they got to the mansion they found it dark, with no sign of any guards.... or any life.
"Something's wrong," Buffy murmured.
"Yes." Spike's eyes glittered like chips of blue ice. "Slayer...I smell blood."
Their eyes met; and with one accord they entered the main door.
"Gaahh," Buffy spotted the dead girl's body. "She does look like me."
"No she doesn't!" Spike said impatiently. "There's hardly any resemblance at all!"
Buffy glanced at him dubiously but said no more. Together they climbed the stairs, stepping over the numerous scattered piles of ashes. At the top, they could hear Electra's voice, talking to Vladimir.
Buffy's hand tightened on the stake; she mouthed at Spike "I'll take Electra."
He nodded. Together, moving as one in their dance of death, Slayer and vampire advanced upon Electra and Vladimir. Electra was seated in the middle of the floor- her gorgeous white dress dappled with blood, her red hair wild.
"Vladimir," she was babbling, "please wake up! I need you! I need you now!"
Buffy's eyes scanned the room, searching for the massive form of the monk; but she couldn't see him anywhere. What could have happened here?
Electra began shouting, "Vladimir! I know you can hear me! Wake up!"
Buffy stared; and felt a wave of nausea. She could see now what it was that Electra held in her lap. It was Vladimir's head.
"It's quite obvious what happened," Giles said reflectively. He, Spike, and Buffy were all seated in his living room, going over the events of the evening. "When Vladimir and Electra sent out that challenge to Janus, it was answered sooner than they thought."
"Right..." Buffy nodded. "I bet they left the Bronze; and walked right into an ambush."
"An ambush that left their supporters dead. Then, Janus beheaded Vladimir and that sent Electra howling mad," Spike contributed.
Giles hesitated. "Perhaps...it might have been best if you'd brought yourselves to eliminate Electra?"
Buffy shuddered. "We couldn't, Giles. You should have seen her, talking to Vladimir's head..."
"She'd been driven insane, you see," Spike said impassively.
"Er...yes," Giles had the grace to look away. "Buffy," he changed the subject, "I think you should eat something."
She brightened. "Did you get any croissants?"
"No, but I have some scones."
"Giles!" Buffy protested. "Those things are like rocks!"
"Nonsense! They're good for you..." he saw her face and sighed. "I have teacake, if you prefer."
"I prefer," Buffy said emphatically. "I definitely prefer...and Giles...is there any blood for Spike?" Spike glanced up, surprised, as Giles removed a packet of blood from the refrigerator.
"We used to keep some, for Angel," Buffy explained quietly.
He said nothing for a long moment, then picked up the packet. "Thank you."
Giles handed Buffy a mug of milk along with some teacake. "And...if you think the scones I make are hard, you should taste the ones we used to eat at Oxford."
"I remember Oxford," Spike said unexpectedly. "It's...beautiful."
Giles gave Spike the first friendly look ever. "Yes," he agreed. "The spires of Oxford...no sight like it in the world."
Buffy drank some milk. "Is that where this mug came from- Oxford? There's a sort of design on it."
"A crest," Giles nodded. "From a club I belonged to, while I was there. My college was divided into four different groups- mostly for purposes of debate. I was a Florentine." He shook his head, reminiscently. "How that does take one back."
"To the days when one was a Florentine," Buffy put in.
Spike's mouth curled up in the ghost of a grin.
Giles gave her a reproachful look. "Some eminent people were Florentines," he said stiffly. "Well, that was true of the other groups as well, but...particularly the Florentines."
"What were the other groups?" Buffy asked idly, still thinking about the unexpected charm she found in Spike's smile.
"Oh, let's see...Alexandrians, they were a strange bunch...and Athenians. Then there were the Corinthians."
"What?!" Buffy leaped to her feet as the mug, unbroken, fell to the carpet, soaking it with milk.
"Buffy...what's the matter?" Giles gaped at her.
"Come on!" Buffy grabbed Spike's hand...they found themselves out in the street, both running hard. Spike asked no questions, willing to follow where the Slayer led. If he'd had time to think, he might have found that strange- or perhaps not. Unerringly, she headed for a darkened building and forced the door. Spike's vampire sense told him the Slayer's instincts had not failed her...someone was here. She ran toward the back room, Spike close at her heels.
"Hello, Buffy," the cultivated voice said mockingly. "You've finally tumbled to it, have you?" Buffy was staring at the shadowy figure in mounting fury and dismay.
Spike felt confused. "Sl... Buffy?" Best not to use her title here.
She turned to him, suddenly grateful for his presence. "Spike...there's somebody I want you to meet."
A man stepped from the shadows, smiling an enigmatic smile.
"This is Janus the Corinthian," Buffy said grimly. "But his real name is...Ethan Rayne!"
"Perfect, isn't it?" Ethan Rayne purred. "Janus- the two-faced god of the Romans, with one face looking back into the past, and one facing forward...into the future. And Corinthian- from my college. Could anything be more appropriate?"
"But, why?" Buffy still felt a sense of shock. "I mean, you aren't a vampire."
"Hardly...too limiting," Ethan said dismissively. "But I knew I could use them quite easily, for my own ends."
"Which are?" Spike raised one eyebrow. "Why don't you fill us in, mate?"
"It's quite simple, really." Ethan's feline smile never wavered. "I wanted my life back- the life I'd had in the old days. In the good days when the Circle was still unbroken, and Ripper was there." He was suddenly serious. "You see, Buffy, when I first came here, I made a tremendous mistake. I thought the thing to do was to destroy the bond between Watcher and Slayer. I'm so glad now that I failed. This will be much, much better."
"What? What'll be better?" Buffy demanded. "Do you think I've forgotten how you wanted to kill me?"
"Kill you?" Ethan looked honestly surprised. "Of course I never wanted that! It's true I did hand you over to that demon; but sheer necessity forced my hand! As I told you at the time, my actions didn't mean that I don't like you!"
"In fact," he said reflectively, "I've often thought that, if I were capable of affection for anyone, *you* are probably the person I'd choose."
"I'm touched," Buffy said sarcastically.
"You should be," Ethan said, unperturbed. "I've thought about it a thousand times since. We could go back to London- Ripper and I. And take you with us. Even include your friends, if you like. We'll rebuild the Golden Circle again...you have no concept of the kind of life you'd have."
"Oh, I think I do," said Buffy darkly.
"No, you don't," Ethan snapped, his amiable facade slipping. Then his smile returned. "Think about it, dearest.... would you, would anyone, deliberately choose the life of a Slayer? A thankless, hard, lonely life. Oh, and did I mention...short?"
Buffy found herself unable to speak.
"But with you, her life would be wonderful?" Spike inquired.
"Indeed it would." Ethan seemed not to notice the sarcasm in Spike's tone. "Believe me, Buffy, you'd find me a far better mentor than Ripper! It would be the three of us...beginning the Golden Circle. Ripper could still do his ridiculous Henry Higgins act; you could continue to slay vampires, if you wished...but you'd taste all the power I can give you! The three of us...why, we'd be unstoppable!"
"Sounds great." Buffy found her voice. "And... I'm sure Giles will agree?"
Ethan said silkily, "He will, you know. Because, my dear little Slayer, if you want to manipulate a man, find the thing he loves. As far as Ripper is concerned, that's you."
Buffy's eyes widened. "But..."
Ethan laughed. "Oh yes. Nothing in his life, including his life, means as much to him as you do. As for you, my sweet, think what I could do for you! Even get your vampire lover out of hell, if you'd like. Nothing is impossible."
Spike kept his face impassive, even though his stomach clenched at the mention of Angel's name. He glanced at Buffy, trying to gauge her reaction; and was relieved to see her regarding Ethan with all the enthusiasm of a mongoose for a cobra.
"That's enough, Ethan!" Giles stepped into the room. "Do you think for one minute I'd agree to this?"
"Hello, Ripper," Ethan said easily. "And you had better agree... considering the alternative. If you don't join forces with me, it means sending your darling out to die...not just once, but over and over, until one day the luck runs out. Have you thought about that- about how you'll feel on that inevitable day?"
"What would you know about feelings?" The voice was a harsh rasping whisper.
Spike's head jerked around to see Electra in the doorway. Electra, long hair matted with blood, white dress shredded into rags. Electra, holding a container of kerosene. And, as they all watched in horror, she deliberately struck a match. The glorious red hair went up in one flash of sizzling flame...the long dress was alight, and Electra launched herself full force at Ethan.
"You killed Vladimir!" she screamed, vampire body blazing. There was a roaring sound as the ramshackle wooden building that had once housed Ethan's Costume Shop was engulfed in a fireball; then the entire structure collapsed on top of them. Spike automatically grabbed for the Slayer- and missed. The floor came up to meet him...and he felt himself falling...down, down...into the abyss.
Spike forced his eyes open, and found himself in the basement of the shop, with vague memories of falling when the floor gave way. In the far-off distance he could hear the faint sound of approaching sirens.
The Slayer was lying under him, pale and still. He felt a jolt of terror; but her pulse was strong. He touched her gently, fearfully, probing for damage. He found nothing; but his hands had acquired a will of their own, and lingered over her body despite frantic counter orders from his brain.
She stirred and opened her eyes; and he felt her touch, feather-light against his cheek...unnerving him so that he sank feebly against her.
Awareness seeped slowly into her eyes..."Giles?"
He hesitated, she saw his face, and began to cry. Her tears roused him to action; shakily, he got to his feet. Above was a smoking ruin- but in the far corner he could see the faint outline of a door. He scooped up the Slayer...she was coughing weakly as he stumbled up the stairs with her...
"Spike," she gasped. "I think I can walk."
"Shut up," he said furiously. But when they reached the street the first police cars were arriving; and he paused there was no way past them.
"Put me down...now!" Buffy hissed.
Startled, he set her on her feet; and she grasped his shoulders and pulled him against her. She lifted her face to his, and he felt himself responding... eagerly seeking her luscious mouth while his hands strained her to him.
In that instant he forgot their surroundings forgot everything but the sensation of her lips on his, the touch of her body inflaming his with a thousand sensations he had never known. He wanted it to last forever; instead an unwelcome voice said loudly,
"Hey! You two...move along there! You're in the way!"
Buffy broke the kiss and pulled him hastily along the street- away from the smoldering ruins.
"Why...why did you do that?" Spike managed at last.
"I saw it in the movies," she answered, avoiding his eyes. "Nobody ever suspects a couple who are kissing."
A car pulled up beside them. "Buffy!" Giles exclaimed. "Thank God you're safe!"
"Giles!" Buffy hurried over to him. "You got out!"
The Watcher's face was bruised and battered; but he seemed otherwise unhurt. Spike and Buffy climbed into the car.
"What happened to Ethan?" Buffy asked.
"No sign of him," Giles replied grimly. "But I won't believe he's dead until I actually see the body."
"He's like Jason and Freddy," Buffy agreed. "I know he'll be back. Anyway, it's almost dawn, and he knows where you live! We'd better go to my house. Good thing Mom is still in Seattle."
"Ugh!" Buffy caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. "I really need a shower! Unless...either of you..."
"No, no." Giles collapsed wearily on the couch. "You go ahead."
Before she did, she pinned some thick towels over her window. "There, nice and... cave-like. Now I'd better get that shower...we all reek of smoke! Sure you don't want to...?" Wild surmise filled Spike's mind. Was she...could she possibly be inviting him to join her? He took a step toward her, only to hear her add, "because I don't mind waiting."
"No." he pulled himself together to say jerkily, "you first."
When it was his turn at last, the hot water felt wonderful washing away much of the ugliness and distress of the last few days. He emerged reluctant to put on the smoky tattered clothes that had- barely- survived the fire. Then he realized he couldn't put them on; they had disappeared. Spike wrapped a towel around his waist and padded down the hall to find the Slayer. She was wearing shorts and a silky tank top, brushing her damp hair. Automatically his eyes went to her bed.
She smiled at him. "I've fixed the window so you can sleep in here. I can use my mother's room tonight."
He swallowed with difficulty. "What about your Watcher, pet?"
"He's passed out on the couch," she said fondly. "I didn't have the heart to wake him."
She seemed to notice his towel for the first time. "Your clothes are in the washer..."
He nodded. "Uh...Buffy..."
"What?" she paused in front of him, big eyes questioning.
Spike took a deep breath. "I don't like to sleep alone."
To his amazement, her eyes filled with sympathetic tears. "I know, Spike...I'm so sorry. I know how much she meant to you."
"What? What are you talking about?" Spike demanded.
"Why, Drusilla, of course!"
"Oh." It would never do, Spike told himself, to say "Oh, that." And yet...it was true that he'd cared about Drusilla, had even loved her after a fashion; but...he felt the need to be honest, even if she thought less of him for it. "It's strange...it's like she's someone I knew a long time ago. 'But that was in another country; and besides, the wench is dead,'" he quoted.
Buffy's eyes blazed. "That's a ..a *sick* thing to say! Just when I started to think you had emotions..."
She tried to push past him, and he grabbed her arm then grabbed at his towel as he felt it start to slip.
"I did love her," he said quietly. "I tried to take care of her the best I could; but, she wasn't really capable of loving me back. It was...a child's love, in a way. Do you understand?"
Her anger died; she nodded, and lightly touched his shoulder. "We'd better get some sleep."
"Right. Whatever you say, love." His shoulder was tingling where she'd touched him. He gritted his teeth- knowing that otherwise he'd make a fool of himself by begging her to stay. "Good night, Slayer," he forced the words out, careful to keep his back turned so he couldn't look at her.
"Night, Spike," she murmured, from the doorway. Then her hand shot out, grabbed the edge of his towel, and tugged. It came away in her hand. "Whoa...I'm impressed," she giggled.
He chased her down the hall- only to find himself on the wrong side of a locked door. Deciding he'd really better not wrench it off its hinges, he retreated grumpily to her room. Still fuming, he climbed into bed. The little brat will pay for that, he promised himself, a reluctant grin twisting his mouth. He stretched out comfortably. Too bad he hadn't been able to find her diary again...he'd just got to the good part. The part where they'd first met.
She'd said he was ...cute. Cute? Spike tried out that word in his mind. William the Bloody, the Slayer's Scourge, cute? Did that mean...could it mean...she fancied him? If only he'd had another minute to read! Oh well, he'd have another go when he awoke. In a room this size, how many places could she hide a diary, anyway?
Epilogue: 3 months later
Buffy stood upstairs in the Bronze, gazing down on the crowd below. Cordelia and Xander were dancing; while Willow and Oz huddled at their favorite table. The two dark and the two red heads were very close together.
Buffy sighed, filled with a sudden sense of yearning. Strong male hands slid around her waist, pulling her back against a lean, hard body. She smiled, and closed her eyes in dreamy bliss.
"I could be your mortal enemy," he growled in her ear.
"Oohhh...promise?" She whispered eagerly.
He laughed softly. "Oh yes, love. You can count on it. Want to dance... or go?"
She considered. "The others haven't seen us yet...we could always say something came up."
Spike nuzzled her neck. "It would even be true."
"Your place or mine?" she giggled.
"Yours..." he decided.
Buffy grinned. "You're just saying that because you want to hunt for my diary again."
He looked guilty. "Now, Slayer, I haven't looked for that thing in days."
Well, it had been days, he told himself. They'd been spending most of their time in his new apartment lately, furnishing it to suit them. It was the first time he'd taken an interest in where he lived. It was full of all the things he'd always wanted; and he was proud of it. Of course, he hadn't known he'd always wanted some of those things until she had chosen them. Then they became essential to him...much in the way that she had. Secretly he hoped that after graduation she'd be moving in for good...maybe he'd mention it tonight?
Buffy took Spike's hand and pulled him toward the exit. "We have to have some secrets, honey."
"No, love," Spike said mildly. "We don't."
"Maybe you're right," she gave in, stretching up to kiss his nose.
He kicked the door shut behind them, swung her up into his arms, and started down the street.
"Oh, I know I'm right, love. So...let's compromise...when we get to your place, you tell me just what it is about me that you find...cute?!"
"I will," she promised. "In detail!"
Spike looked at the girl laughing in his arms, and grinned in anticipation. He began to walk faster.