by Rob Sorenson

Drusilla's face smoothed back into its human disguise, staring at Buffy with a serene smile.

"Slayer.  How lovely it is to see you again."

Buffy dropped her crossbows, facing Dru with her hands loosely at her sides.  The vampire's eyes danced with mirth as she spoke.

"You've nothing to say to me?"

"Said all I've had to say.  We going to do this or not?"

Dru's eyes flicked to one side.  "In a bit of a hurry?  Concerned about our Spike?"

Spike had handled the first five vampires on his own with the aid of surprise.  He had no such advantage here, and the numerical odds were making things difficult.  Through 45 seconds - an infinitely long time in vampire combat - no one had been dusted.

Buffy's eyes remained locked on Drusilla.  "I'm concerned about MY Spike.  Not into the sharing concept."

"A part of him will always be mine.  I was with him longer than you will ever be."

For the first time, Buffy smirked.  "True enough.  On the other hand, I've made him happier in one year than you did in a hundred.  Score one for quality over quantity."

Drusilla's smile disappeared.  "I'm going to slice off your scalp. Use your perfect hair to decorate my dollies."

Buffy contemplated this for a moment, then began ticking items off with her fingers.

"Ok, but you have to understand how much effort goes into this. First of all, only Aveda or Paul Mitchell will do.  The moment you get cheap and try VO5, Suave, White Rain or anything like that, there's no going back. That way lies madness and split ends.  I haven't even started talking

about body and shine.  Three words:  condition, condition, condition.  Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I feel I should point out there are TOTALLY unsubstantiated reports that I'm not a natural blonde.  Not sure if dead hair can fade, but in the highly unlikely event that these reports have some merit you might want to consider-"

Drusilla raised her hand, stopping the Slayer abruptly.  "Relax, Buffy.  Let your mind be free……lose yourself within mine.  I can see your heart.  You need to rest, Slayer.  I can provide that for you.  Be in my eyes.  Be...in me."

Buffy's face went slack; she stared dully into Drusilla's widened eyes.  The vampire smiled ever so slightly and motioned toward herself. "Come to me, Slayer.  Mommy will make all the pain go away."  Buffy walked toward her with robotic movements, her eyes now lost in a faraway gaze. Drusilla extended her claws, preparing to sweep across her jugular vein...

The Slayer shot out a fist, catching Dru with a solid right jab to the nose. She staggered back, hitting a tombstone with the back of her knees.  After doing a rather clumsy looking somersault, she landed hard face-first, groaning with pain.  Buffy shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry.  Got kinda boring in there."

"'Scuse me, pet.  Got a moment?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow at Spike, who was bent over with exhaustion, hands resting on his knees.

"While I find the banter between you ladies satisfying in a macho sort of way, I was wonderin' if you could see your way clear to helpin' me out a lit-  OOF!"

One of the scantily clad vampires tackled him hard to the ground. Buffy looked on with an unconcerned expression.

"What was the nuzzling of Drusilla's neck about?"

Spike responded in a strained voice.  "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to see you two making out."

He knocked his attacker aside with a vicious head butt.  "Wasn't makin' out with anyone."

She merely raised an eyebrow.  He shrugged awkwardly.

"Well, all right then.  Maybe it was...but it wasn't real. Undercover work and all."

"Yeah?  Guess you won't mind not working under my covers for a while, then."

He resumed his standing position.  "Oh...come on!  Wasn't plannin' on doing anything with her.  Just tryin' to get a handle on...AHH!!  Bloody

Hell!!"

Another of his opponents had hit him with a kidney punch.  The impact caused his skull to collide with a mausoleum.  Buffy shook her head as he elbowed the latest attacker in the mouth, knocking her for a loop.

"Spike, these vamps are children.  What's the deal?"

"Hey, I took five of 'em out all by m’ lonesome a minute ago.  These new ones got a bead on my style.  Studied my moves, they did.  Had to change my approach a little and...you're not buying this, are you?"

"Nope."

"Right.  Truth is I seem to have lost the blasted stake--AUGH!!"

Now two vampires sucker punched him simultaneously, sending him aloft. Buffy yelled as he cut through the air.

"You LOST your stake!?  You're seriously losing your edge.  Time for you to start training with us again."

He landed hard, speaking in a groan as his back arched from the impact.  "Unh..is now the best time to have this conversation?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Hang on a sec."  Spotting Drusilla beginning to stir, Buffy quickly straddled her.   "Looks like you need to stay here for a moment."  She fired a right cross, snapping the vamp's head to one side.  "I have to go save my man."  The Slayer rose to walk

away...then turned back toward a whimpering Dru.

"Let me emphasize MY-" she lifted the vampire up, slamming her head through a tombstone - "man.  Be right back."

Drusilla was motionless as Buffy yanked one of the four ex-prostitutes that surrounded Spike by a leather dog collar she sported around her neck, presumably for the bondage freaks of the world. Not that I would know anything about THAT, Buffy thought as she smoothly ran Mr. Pointy between the vamp’s shoulder blades.

"Spike, you only brought one stake?  Seriously?"

"Well, you had to have a pair o' queens, now didn't you?  I only have one bleedin' stake left to my name."

"Guess you shouldn't have lost it, then."

Spike sent one of the remaining three flying with a dropkick. "Can't imagine where it could have gone.  Kept 'er in my inside pocket."

One of the two vampires grinned, holding it up.  "Best lifter in the business.  Never even felt a thing, huh?"

Buffy fought off a grin.  "You let a hooker pick your pocket."

Spike's eyes were cold as he focused on the thief.  "Quite the Artful Dodger, that it?"

Before she could respond he grabbed her wrist, bringing her elbow crashing against his knee in an unnatural direction.  She screamed, weapon slipping through her fingers.  The blonde vampire caught it before it hit the ground and jammed it into her chest.  He spoke to her dust as it floated to the earth.

"Couldn't dodge that, could you?"

Buffy sidestepped a bullrush from one of the other vamps, spinning around to stake her smoothly in the back as she passed by.  Spike, in the meantime, went after the last one with his recovered stake firmly in hand. She surprised him with a spin kick, which caught him solidly in the side of the head.  Dropping to the ground, he used the momentum of his fall, swinging his feet in an arc.  Black boots caught her calves, sweeping her neatly to the ground.  Before she could attempt to regain her balance, he straddled her and plunged the stake home.  He pressed his fingers to his head and looked at them, checking for blood as he spoke.

"Since when does a whore have time to take a sodding tae kwon do class?"

"Shit!!"

Spike flinched, scrambling back to his feet and hurrying over to Buffy.  She stood staring in quiet fury at the place where Drusilla had only moments before been unconscious and bleeding.

She was gone.

Spike sighed, looking to the woods in the distance.  "Couldn't have gone far.  I shouldn't have any problem trackin' her."  He raised his nose into the air slightly and frowned.  "Not pickin' her up.  Odd, that.  She'd have to be a coupla kilometers away at least."  The vampire winced.  "Don't tell me she's got a vehicle.  Dru's dangerous enough as she is.  Never was much of a driver.  Used to take her hands off the wheel and tell one of her dollies to take over.  Damn near plowed into a tree in Bucharest once. Well, nothing else for it.  Gotta try, don't you think?"

No response.

"Buffy?"

Spike frowned when he realized he'd been talking to himself. Turning around, he caught a glimpse of Buffy’s confident stride as she made her way out of the front gate of Restfield.  Spike jogged after.

"Buffy?  Buffy!!"

**************************************************

(Hello?)

"Hi."

(Dawn.  I was going to call you, but it grew late.  I didn't want to disturb you).

"Ummm...news flash, Wes.  We're all pretty much night people."

(Yes, of course.)

"Of course, a phone call from you to me at night might get Buffy and Spike suspicious.  Don't want that."  There was amusement in Dawn's tone, but Wesley responded seriously.

(I'm not concerned with that any more.)

Dawn hesitated, looking at the phone.  "Really?"

(I've treated you abominably over this.  I'll do it no longer. We’ll tell everyone together this weekend.  If that's what you want, of course.)

Yes!!  Yes, Dammit!!  Wait...wait.  Be cool, Dawnie.  Mature and cool.  Smooooth. 

"Ok," she croaked, voice cracking audibly.  She frowned as he chuckled.  "What's funny?"

(You've been terribly understanding.  I'll not think less of you if the infamous Peanuts dance is performed once we hang up.)

"It's called the Snoopy Dance, honey, and I think I can manage to control myself."

There was a hesitation.  (Would you say that again, please?)

"Snoopy Dance?"

(No.  Honey.)

Dawn's smile would have lit up her bedroom if the lamp weren't already on.

"Ok, honey.  Wanna try some more?"

(All right.)

"Baby."

(Very nice.)

"Darling."

(Lovely.)

"Sweetie."

(Actually I've never cared for that one.)

Dawn's voice pouted.  "But what if I like it?"

(Fine.  I'm putty in your hands.)

"Good boy.  Snookums."

(Definitely drawing the line there.)

Dawn smiled to herself.  What the Hell.  She lowered her voice.

"How about stud?"

There was a moment's hesitation.

(Is Willow available to teleport me immediately?)

Dawn laughed, flopping down on her bed.  "I've got you whipped

already."

(So no one is home besides you?  Patrol night?)

"Patrolling?  In Sunny D?  What's that?"

(Right.  Old habits.)

"I went to the Bronze with some old high school friends for a couple of hours after work.  When I got here everybody was gone...so I figured this would be a safe time to call you."

(I've been missing the sound of your voice.)

She closed her eyes.  "Me too."

(You've missed the sound of your own voice?)

Her eyes opened.  "Are you trying to be funny again?"

(Sorry.  I learn most of the lessons in life rather slowly.)

"You're ruining the mood with your silliness."

(We're setting a mood?)

"Well...I was.  I was getting comfortable."

(I see.  Made your popcorn, rented some DVD's...)

"Actually it's been a pretty long day, and we have a busy weekend coming up.  I was just getting into bed."

There was another hesitation, this one slightly longer.

(Right, then.  I apologize for keeping you.)

"You're not keeping me, silly.  I called you, remember?"

(Of course.  Still, if you're tired it might be best to let you go.)

The words came flying out of Dawn's mouth before she had a chance to stop them.

"So you don't want to know what I'm wearing?"

************************************************************

Xander sat in the passenger seat of the Harris family Silverado, feeling miserable.  Faith had come back into the gym's office after locking up, picked up the keys to his truck and walked out.  Not wishing to spend the night in Buffy’s office chair, he hustled behind, just catching her in the parking lot.  She hopped into the front seat and started the vehicle just as he pulled at the passenger seat handle.  For the first time she slid her eyes in his direction.  With a sigh she unlocked it, barely waiting long enough for him to sit before hitting the gas.

She'd been annoyed with him before, of course.  They'd been married for a year, for Christ's sake...but generally she'd holler at him - well, in fairness he might yell a little bit too - until they came to some sort of understanding.  In fact, one of them would usually say something to make them laugh hard enough to forget why they were arguing in the first place. 

This was different, however.  She had just plain cut him off...and he had no clue how to fix it.  That's what Xander did best...he fixed

things.  Faith The Vampire Slayer, however, didn't come with a blueprint…and the word "predictable" would never be featured in her official bio. Xander had nothing to go by except feel, and at the moment all Xander felt was sick and lost. Her eyes were straight ahead, not even glancing in his direction. One hand rested on top of the wheel, while the other sat on the gearshift, a habit she’d never lost though the truck was an automatic. Her rhythmically tapping fingers were the only sign of anxiety.   Finally Xander just couldn’t deal with the freeze-out any more.

"Baby, I'm so sorry."

Silence.

"I realize now I should never have kept this from you, but..."  He trailed off, swallowing nervously at her expression when she turned her head to face him for the first time.  "Ok, no buts.  I never should have kept this from you."

"There anything else?"

Oh thank God. Conversation.  "Anything else as in…?"

"Symptoms. Stuff you shouldn’t be doing.  And don't you dare lie to me."

He hesitated a moment.  "It's not a big thing.  Every once in a while I have a little shaky thing happen."

Her eyes cut between him and the road.  "What kind of shaky thing?"

"Just my hands sometimes and...I don't know, I shiver like I'm cold or something."

Faith's voice was hollow.  "Just call them what they are, Xand.  You've been having convulsions."

"No, no...it's nothing like that.  I don't thrash around or anything.  Just…little spasms."

"Painful?"

Again he hesitated.  "Not usually."

She swallowed.  "But sometimes?"

"A little like a cramp.  It's not that bad, though.  I've felt a lot worse."

She pulled off to the side of the road and stopped.  "Yeah.  And it's our fault."

"Faith, no.  It's not anybody’s...I don’t understand."

Her voice shook slightly.

"I can't do this any more."

Xander frowned.  "I don't get-"

She held up a hand to stop him.  "Look...I didn't wanna cry, 'cause that isn't gonna do you any good, but…it hurts, ok?"

He unbuckled his seat belt, reaching for her hand on the shift as he spoke.

"I was an idiot not to tell you everything."

"Not what I meant.  I mean, yeah...it hurts that you didn't tell me, but like I said before, I get that.  You didn't want to have the conversation we're about to have."

Xander's eyes narrowed.  "Ok, you keep losing me here."

She nodded.  "Almost, yeah."

His eyes cleared with understanding. "I’m not going anywhere. You’re making more out of this than you need to."

"No, I’m making exactly enough out of it. What hurts me most is seeing you go through so much when you don’t have to."

"It's really not that-"

His hand felt a nearly painful squeeze.

"Stop it.  Just...stop trying to bullshit me.  I wake up with you, ok?  I see how hard it is for you to get yourself loosened up some days ‘cause of the injuries that have happened to you.  Saw you rotating your wrist because it told you when cold weather is coming.  Had to get Buffy to clue me in on that one.  Troll broke it, right?"

He shifted uncomfortably.  "Faith-"

"Lemme finish.  I haven't fought with you near as much as everyone else, but I don't even want to try to count how many times you've been knocked out. Not to mention all those bones that got broken in New York last year.  Every night I see scars all over you from all kinds of demons or whatever...the deep ones on your chest from Willow, for example."

His eyes widened slightly.  "That wasn't Willow."

She sighed.  "Ok, but you see where I'm going with this, right?"

Xander shrugged.  Faith took her hand from his, reaching up to stroke his cheek with her fingertips.

"Baby, the rest of us have the same laundry list of injuries over the years...some worse than others. Still, if you did an X-ray of us, you wouldn't find much.  A few scars here and there, but broken bones and stab wounds pretty much heal in a couple of days.  Bruises and cuts, usually overnight.  Willow has a normal human body, but she can heal herself with magic."

She leaned in.  "Most of us are built to do this.  You're not. Xander, it's way past time for you to stop."

He pulled away from her.  She turned off the engine, slid off her seat and knelt next to him.

"No shutting down this time.  We're gonna talk about this.  Right now."

Xander spoke softly, his voice laced with bitterness.

"Sorry if I appear bored, but I've heard this song before.  Buffy and Willow have hummed it a bunch of times."

"Didja just hear it or listen to it?  Big difference."

"I heard them.  Heard them really well before the big battle with the

First."

"They handled that badly, and both of them knew it...came from love, though.  They didn't want to see you hurt."

"I don't want to see them hurt either.  In case you’ve forgotten, if I hadn't been there..."

"Xander, come on. Of course I remember."

"See, here's the thing with me:  nobody expects a lot, so I always find a way to surprise people. Even you."

"You don't surprise us any more."

"Shocks the Hell out of the bad guys, though.  Slow learners."

She smiled.  "Yup.  Sure does." The smile faded. "Problem is it isn't free."

He swallowed at that.  "Isn't for anyone."

"Yeah, but like I said, we pretty much heal on the outside.  The inside stuff we deal with.  Thing is, you gotta deal with both, and..."

Faith's voice broke slightly for a second time.  "It's killing you."

"Honey, come on.  You're being a little melodramatic here."

"Am I?  Look me in the eye and tell me how you feel most of the time physically."

He shrugged.  "I'm fi-"

"NO!  No bullshit.  Look me in the eye, I said."

He met her moist eyes, now boring into him.  When Xander spoke, his gaze dropped.

"Depends on the day.  Usually it's about fifty-fifty whether or not I'm pretty sore."

"That's not counting this new thing, is it?  The nerves thing?"

Xander merely shook his head.  Faith put her forefinger under his chin and lifted it so that their eyes met.  "Are you ashamed of that?"

He blinked several times.  "Why are we talking about this?"

"Answer the question."

Xander snorted.  "I don't even know how to answer that."

Faith said nothing, maintaining her steady gaze. 

"Look, let's just go home and forget it."

Silence.  Xander jerked his head in frustration, removing his wife's fingertip from his chin.  He looked down toward his lap before he spoke.

"Fine.  If it makes you feel better to hear it, yes.  There were times when I hated the fact that the rest of you could go into bloody

battles in the night and wake up for a five mile run the next morning.  For me it was usually a major achievement just to make the medicine cabinet without falling down.  Yeah, I have my moments when I feel like a lesser being.  Hell, I AM a lesser being!  I'm only human, right?"

Faith's eyes softened, but he continued before she could respond.

"I know damn well it isn't rational, and I guess it’s probably some kind of macho manly thing.  All I know is this: whenever you or Buffy or Willow got hurt or cried or whatever, everything in me wanted to wrap all of you up in this great big soft ball of cotton, you know?  That way you don't have to feel the bad stuff while I go get rid of whatever hurt you.  At least, that's what I always wanted to do. Of course, I realize how stupid that was, but hey…no one ever accused me of being very bright."

"Xand-"

"So if that makes me a sexist pig, I plead guilty.  On the other hand, I’m certainly a failed pig since I had to get pulled out of the slop

by Buffy most of the time..."  He trailed off, shaking his head.  "Anyway, I finally carved a place where I felt reasonably ok with myself.  Then the connection thing with Buffy happened, and it was…I could actually help.  I mean REALLY help.  Of course, I had to practically stick my finger in a light socket to do it, but..."

Faith almost interrupted again, but stopped herself, deciding he needed to get this out.

"Then that went away.  I figured someone in charge decided I wasn't the right guy for the job.  Considering how fucked up I am now, looks like they knew what they were talking about.  Am I ashamed?  Maybe.  Maybe I'm ashamed that I can't seem to ever feel good about my part in things...'cause something in me always manages to make it harder than it needs to be.  Now you want me to stay away from fighting because I don't belong with the rest of you. The mature part of me understands that, but…I don’t know. It’s not that simple."

At last he seemed like he was finished. She chose her words as carefully as she could.

"You’ve been backing Buffy up for nine years. I want you to honestly think about how you feel most of the time…then imagine how you’re gonna be after nine more."

Xander turned away. Faith tilted her head as she continued.

"You and I both know what this is really about. You feel like less of a man because everyone around you is a better fighter, and that’s how the Scooby Gang has always kept score when the chips are down. Who can fight and who can’t. Everyone else just stay out of the way. Right?"

He continued to stare into the darkness as he answered.

"Isn’t that pretty much what you’re asking from me? To stay out of the way?"

"There’s a part of you that always feels like it isn’t fair. You have so much heart, Xander…probably more courage than all of us when it comes down to it. But the physical part of it is too much for you in the long run. If you keep throwing yourself into these major battles, then YOU are the one who isn’t being fair to yourself…not to mention us."

When he turned back toward her, Faith cupped his face in her hands as she finished.

"I need to know that when the fight is over, I have you to come back to. We all need that – I don’t think you even get how much people lean on you – but with me, it’s even more so. I’m your wife, Xander…and I can’t do this without you. A real man isn’t a big tough dude who kicks a bunch of ass. That’s TV shit. A real man is someone who’s always there for people he loves. You taught me that."

Xander chuckled in embarrassment, unsure of what to say.. "Um…"

Faith’s eyes burned into him. "No more rushing into big battles. When things get seriously ugly, you get as far back as you can and stay out of harm’s way from now on. I’m talkin’ hauling ass in the opposite direction. Ok?"

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "Ok."

"Xander, look at me." He obeyed, and she took one of his hands in both of hers. He looked down, seemingly hypnotized by her slender fingertip as it stroked along the band of gold on his ring finger.

"Swear to me on this."

He didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity, simply staring at the ring. If he swore on that…Faith could almost feel his internal struggle. Finally he met her eyes, unblinking.

"I swear."

She nodded with a smile. "Ok." Faith wrapped her arms around him. "I love you, big guy."

"I love you too."

"Wanna go home?"

"Yeah. I’m sorta tired."

She gave him a quick peck on the lips and resumed her position in the driver’s seat. She quirked an eyebrow toward him as she restarted the truck.

"I’ll make you a deal. You can wrap me up in a big ole’ wool blanket tonight and make believe you’re protecting me. Sound good?"

"I can never get away with a bad analogy with you, can I?"

"Just tryin’ to help."

A car came whizzing by as she put the truck in gear. "Damn, someone’s in a hurry to get out of Sunnydale tonight."

Xander peered at the rapidly receding taillights. "Used to be a wise move."

Faith floored the accelerator, spitting gravel from the shoulder of the road into the woods as the truck screeched on to the road. Her husband raised an eyebrow.

"Was that fun for you?"

"Aw, gimme a break. Hadn’t done it in a while. All this emotional conversation made me restless."

They shared a chuckle as the truck headed for home. Xander’s smile subsided as his thoughts strayed to other matters.

"I need your opinion on something. It’s the sort of thing a Slayer has some experience with."

She could tell by his tone that this was going to be interesting.

"Ok. Shoot."

"I had this dream tonight…"

**************************************************

Spike trotted out of the gates, catching up quickly.  "Buffy, where are you going?"

"Home."

"Home?  Ought to try and track her, don't you think?"

Buffy said nothing, continuing to stride along.  Spike moved into her path.

"Hello?  Am I not gettin' through here?"

The Slayer's eyes were dark as she answered.  "We didn't pick up on her.  That means she was in a vehicle of some kind.  We walked here."  She moved around him.  "Fill in the blanks."

Again he moved quickly to catch up, speaking from behind her. "Tried to get some details out of 'er.  Got one bit of information."

Buffy stopped, speaking with her back to him.  "The 'land of Angels' comment?"

Spike frowned.  "Yeah.  Her unique way of sayin' Los Angeles, I'd wager.  Out of idle curiosity, just how long were you listenin' in?"

The Slayer resumed walking.  "Long enough to watch you bury your face in her neck."

"That meant nothing.  Just tryin' to get an idea of what she's up to.  Told you that already."

"You always interrogate people by making out with them?"

Spike stopped in his tracks.  Bugger this.  "Buffy," he said softly.  She kept moving as if he hadn't spoken.  "Buffy!"

His tone finally made her stop.  She turned slowly to face Spike as he tilted his head with a confused expression.

"Didn't exactly have a lot of time to come up with a plan.  Thought she might respond to me if...look, you know damned well it meant nothing to me."

Buffy folded her arms, looking down at her shoe as she scuffed it along the pavement.  "Of course I know that," she sighed.  "That didn't make it a barrel of laughs to watch."

He frowned.  "You know, looking back on it I'm struck with the notion that you could've helped me a bit sooner."

She continued to speak with her head down.  "Yeah.  Guess I might have been a little annoyed at the time."

Spike grinned at her.  "Wanted to see me get pummeled a bit, did you?" 

Buffy winced apologetically.  "I did sorta come in too late, huh?"

He took her hand and resumed walking.  "Came through soon enough, pet.  Can't imagine that bein' much fun."

They walked quietly for a minute, their soft footsteps accompanied by chirping crickets.  Buffy broke the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

He quirked a curious eyebrow in her direction.  The Slayer looked away.  "You don't have to answer this if you don't want to.  I'll

understand."

Spike kept his eyes on her, but they'd hardened somewhat.  He said nothing for a moment...then sighed.  "You want to know what she meant about my mother, I assume."

Buffy looked back to him.  "Like I said, you don't-"

"S'all right.  Never said anything about it before 'cause there didn't seem to be a point.  Remember when you asked me about her in New

York?"  Buffy nodded in assent.  "Everything I said then was true...never knew a finer woman.  Not a stretch to call my Mum the best friend I ever had, though no man would ever admit it too easily."

"Why?"

He blinked at the interruption.  "Say again?"

"What's wrong with that?  My mom was a great friend."

He motioned with his free hand, seemingly looking for the words.  "I don't know.  There's a whole nancy boy rep that comes with that sort of thing, I s'pose."

"That's stupid."

Spike frowned with annoyance.  "D'you want to hear this or not?"

"Sorry.  Sometimes I just don't understand men at all."

His eyes took on a faraway look.  "During the time when I was sired, mother wasn't at all well..."

Buffy said nothing as he told the rest of the story in a quiet, emotionless voice as they walked.  His eyes, though - as always - spoke

volumes.  When he reached the point of his mother's final words to him, she couldn't stop tears from pooling in her eyes.  Spike turned to face her, gently brushing a tear from her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Long time ago, Buffy.  No need to be upset."

"This is the part where I tell you it wasn't really her."

He smiled faintly.  "Right.  Then I say you're right.  Just a demon. They never speak the truth, do they?"

"You have to believe your mother loved you."

Spike hesitated a moment, seemingly thinking it over.

"I do.  Whether or not she liked or respected me, though...guess a resourceful demon always finds a way to torment, right?"  He resumed walking, though at a slightly higher speed, as if he were trying to get away from something.  Buffy squeezed his hand.

"Spike..."

"Brought it on myself, I did.  Thought siring her would..."

"Save her," Buffy finished gently.  Spike snorted.

"Yeah.  What better way to save someone you love than to make 'em into a killer."

"You were trying to help her the only way you knew how."

"By ending her life?  Yeah.  I s'pose.  Ended up shortening it though, didn't I?  Wound up stakin' her myself."

Buffy didn't know what to say to that.  Finally she simply took him

in her arms.

"I love you."

He closed his eyes, letting her touch soothe him.  Her fingertips made gentle circles on the back of his neck, causing his entire body to

relax.  Had there ever been anything finer than this?  After a few minutes, he spoke.

"What made you follow me tonight?"

"A dream."

He pulled back from her.  "Really?  One of…the message kind?"

"I think so.  Can we talk about it later, maybe?"

"All right."

He resumed holding her, just needing to feel her at the moment.  She began to rock back and forth slowly, as if a lazy beat was playing just for them. Spike became lost in thought...then frowned as he spoke.

"She said there were more."

"What?"

"Dru mentioned there were more where that group came from."

"Oh.  Right."  They separated, resuming their walk home.

"Not her style, that.  She generally doesn't run in packs.  Usually picks a companion and sticks with 'em."

His lip curled slightly as a vision of slime and antlers danced into his head.  Buffy shook him from his momentary reverie.

"So she has a plan beyond ruining our lives?"

"Not sayin' that.  Dru isn't stupid, but plannin' isn't her thing."

"So...what ARE you saying?"

They turned on to Revello Drive as he spoke.

"Dru's never run a gang in her life.  In that brief period here in Sunnydale, I pretty much ran things.  Well, at least until Angelus came

along."

Buffy sighed.  "Could we possibly avoid that section of Memory Lane?"

"Sorry.  Just makin' a point here.  If she's bein' this active when it comes to siring people, someone relatively lucid has to be pullin' the

strings.  Seems likely that's happening in Los Angeles."

Buffy considered that for a moment.  "Looks like the holiday barbecue just became a summit meeting.  Great.  Why can't we ever just

have fun together?"

"Well, I don't know.  I had a bit of fun tonight."

His eyes widened slightly as he received The Look.

"Whoa there, Slayer.  Meant the fightin' bits.  Haven't had a good mix-up in a while, is all."

"That better be all you meant.  In fairness, I admit there are times when I miss it a little too."

"Naturally.  It's part of you."

"Don't you mean naturalamente, Senor Spike?"

He grinned.  "Didn't know I spoke the language, did you?"

"Yeah, yeah.  I took three years of Spanish, you know."

"Really?  You speak it, then?"

"Well...not at all, actually."

"Never took a class, myself.  Just picked it up along the way."

"Good for you, brainiac."

"No need to be bitter, pet.  Why does everything have to be a competition with you?"

"It's not."  She waited a beat.  "Much."

He chuckled, causing Buffy to give him a playful shove.  "Don't laugh at my quirks.  You have them too, Mr. Perfect."

"That's Senor Perfecto to you."

She took a step back, placing her hands on her hips in theatrical fashion.

"Ok, Senor.  If you’re so perfecto I guess you won’t be needing me tonight. How do you like them apples?  Huh?"

Spike smiled slowly, darting his tongue over his lips.  "Really, now?  And here I thought you'd be all ready for me since you haven't had a good tussle in a while.  All that tension...those juices flowin' so hot inside you...thinkin' you're gonna explode.  Desperately needin' to wrap yourself around old Spike so he can hit that spot over and over till you can't breathe no more.  You remember how that feels, don't-"

She was kissing him hard before he could finish, clutching short blonde hair with her fingers.  Spike growled from deep in his throat, eliciting a moan from his Slayer as she began to grind shamelessly against him.  The vampire lifted her up, carrying her over to a nearby oak tree without breaking contact with her mouth.  She whimpered into his throat when her back made contact with the trunk, causing them to press together even closer.  With an effort she broke off the kiss, hooking one calf around his to trip him. They both went tumbling to the ground, but Buffy was on top.  She shimmied up so that her knees straddled his chest, hands still clinging to his hair like a magnet.  The Slayer leaned down close to him.  Spike tried to move his head up to meet her, but she held him tightly in place.  The smoky voice that came from within her at that moment would haunt Spike's dreams for the rest of his life.

"Nobody touches you but me.  EVER.  You're mine.  Do you understand?"

He tried to nod, but her grip was too tight. 

"Say it," Buffy growled through gritted teeth.

"Buffy..."

"Say it!  NOW!"

His voice quavered with emotion.  "I belong to you, Buffy.  Always."

"What else?"

"No one...unhhh..." He broke off as she laved her tongue up and down his jugular vein, deliberately copying what he'd done to Dru earlier. "...no one touches me but you."

"That's right.  Good boy.  You deserve a chance to earn a reward."

Spike's eyes snapped open as Buffy abruptly rolled to her feet and hopped away before he could catch her.  Her eyes danced as she spoke.

"Looks like someone else is about ready to explode...but you have to catch me first."

His eyes widened incredulously.  "Oh...come on!!"

"That's the second time you've said that tonight."  Buffy began to run toward their house.

He struggled to his feet, forced to adjust himself as she laughed.

"Slayer, you're going to pay for this!"

Buffy slowed down and turned, licking her lips as she walked backwards.

"Promise?"

*******************************************************

(Um...could you repeat that?)

Dawn's face was beet red. Oh my God, I’m an idiot.

"I'm sorry. I have no idea where that came from. Just forget I said it, ok?"

She thought she was going to die when quiet laughter came through the phone. Just kill me now.

(I have a rather good idea where it came from, actually.)

"Like I said, let's just-"

(I'm sorry.)

"Why? You have nothing to be sorry for."

(I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I've never...done this sort of thing.)

Dawn stared at the phone. He's nervous too. Whoa. Ok, play it cool. For real this time.

"Oh, I wasn't asking...for THAT, necessarily. I was just playing." Liar. Shut up, inner voice! Being cool here!

(I see. That's a bit of a relief. I'm not exactly dressed for the

occasion.)

"You have to be dressed for that? I mean," Dawn added hastily, "dressed up?"

(I suppose not. Perhaps it would suffice to be a good liar.)

"Well...it technically wouldn't be lying. Fantasy stuff isn't lying, it's...um... well, fantasy. Those people who run those freaky 900 numbers aren’t necessarily liars. I suppose you could call it consensual lying…you know, I'm not sure where I'm going with this."

(Nor was I. I rather enjoyed listening to you make the effort, however.)

"If we're going to be...you know, publicly together and stuff, you have to tell me when I'm doing the pointless babbling."

(Never. I've learned many things from your pointless babbling.)

She smiled. "Really?"

(Most definitely. You're one of the smartest people I know.)

"Thank you. That is so sweet."

(You’re quite welcome. It also happens to be true.)

There was a silence for a moment.

"Sooo...in a totally non-sexual way, what are YOU wearing?"

Again she heard him chuckle. (That's the problem, you see. If I tell you the truth, it won't necessarily achieve the desired effect.)

Dawn closed her eyes. "The sound of your voice achieves that."

(Ah. Well then, I'll just say it straight: I'm wearing sweat pants with a Chelsea T-shirt.)

Her eyes opened. "Ok, no one's voice is that sexy. You couldn't have embellished a little?"

(Sorry. You did say non-sexual.)

"Well, you pulled that off. Why would you have a shirt with the president's daughter on it anyway?"

There was a long silence.

(No, Dawn. Not Chelsea Clinton. Chelsea is a football club.)

"Oh. Sorry. I thought you'd be a Raiders or Chargers fan or something."

(Not American football either. What you'd call soccer.)

"Oh. Sorry again."

(It's all right. You teach me about modern music and I'll teach you the wonders of football. Fair enough?)

"I'd like anything you teach me."

There was another hesitation.

(Right, then. We'll learn all sorts of interesting things

together.)

Dawn laughed. "Ok, I've got a subject to advise you on.. From this day forward, when I ask what you're wearing, try to be a little more accomodating. Use leather or something."

(I rarely wear leather.)

"Ok, first of all, we're going to fix that. Second of all, are you dense? Make something up. For example, if you asked me, I'd say I'm

wearing a pink teddy from Frederick's."

(My goodness. You are?)

"NO! I mean...are you making fun of me?"

(Would I do such a thing?)

"Jerk. Just for that I'll tell you what I'm really wearing. A big old baggy Strawberry Shortcake night shirt that I've had since I was 12."

Wes didn't respond for a moment. (You've grown quite a bit since then, haven't you?)

"Taller, yes. Wider, no. Are you saying I've gained weight?"

(Actually right now I'm thinking the T-shirt description works just as well as the teddy.)

She blushed. "That's nice of you. Everything else was dirty so I just threw this on. It's comfortable to sleep in."

(It's...all you have on?)

"Yup."

(Again I find myself thinking about teleportation.)

Dawn laughed again. He never failed to make her laugh. "Sorry. Imagination only."

(I've missed you terribly.)

"Me too."

(We’ve…a lot to talk about.)

"Is everything ok?"

(I’d rather we speak in person.)

"Well, me too…but you can’t leave me hanging now. What’s up?"

(Nothing to worry about at the moment.)

Dawn’s voice lowered threateningly. "Wes…"

(I’m in love with you.)

Time stopped. All the air left Dawn Summers’s body…finally she managed to speak, hating the squeaky tone of her voice.

"Me too."

She heard an audible sigh. (Right, then. Very good.)

He’s as scared as I am ebout all this, she realized. Suddenly everything felt easier.

"So…now what?"

(Now I lose sleep for two days until I see you again.)

"Do that thing you taught me. Listening to soft music."

(I’ll try.)

"Good. What the hell?"

(What is it? Is everything all right?)

"Umm..it sounds like my sister is home. She’s laughing like an idiot. Maybe Spike took her to that Three Stooges film festival. She loves those guys."

(A bit of information I shall cherish for a lifetime.)

"Now she’s running up the stairs. Oh, there’s Spike. He sounds annoyed."

(I’m on the edge of my seat.)

Dawn chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry."

(Quite all right. Dawn, I must ask you something.)

She quirked an amused eyebrow at the receiver. "Ok. Shoot."

(You ARE aware that Bill Clinton is no longer president?)

"No way!"

There was a long silence. Dawn grinned, waiting for him to speak.

(Were you mocking me?)

"Would I do that? Just because I’ve actually worn that Chelsea T-shirt when I spilled chocolate pudding all over my blouse at your place?"

(Someone fancies herself as a comedienne.)

"Sorry, sweetie. Can’t help it."

(I believe I’ve told you about that particular endearment.)

"I believe you’re right. Hey, Buffy and Spike aren’t making any noise any more."

(Thank you for keeping me up to date.)

"Umm..correction. Making noises again." She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Lots and lots of noises. Great."

(What sort of…oh.)

"I think this might be a really good time to say good night."

(Did I mention I can’t wait to see you?)

"Yeah. You can say it again though."

(Did I mention that I love you?)

She swallowed. "Yup."

(Well then. Mission accomplished. I’ll see you on Memorial Day.)

"I love you too."

(Good night.)

They hung up. Dawn lay her head back and sighed. Every once in a while, life really was good.

********Brisbane, Queensland, Australia**************

"Report."

"Demon colony is cleared, sir. The Gold Coast beaches can be opened to the public again."

"Excellent work, Major. You have the province’s thanks."

"Thanks aren’t necessary. Part of the job."

"No need to be modest. A colony of Pythian demons in such a concentrated area could have been catastrophic."

"I have good people working with me."

"Of course. Have a seat, Major."

"Yes sir."

A manila folder was passed over. "This is a copy of a report from one of our associates. Needless to say, this is Top Secret."

The Major knew the unspoken code: an "associate" was a deep cover intelligence agent. He wasted no time, breaking the seal on the file and skimming it quickly. His eyes widened slightly.

"We’re certain of this?"

"As much as we can be. The veracity of the communications have been confirmed by three independent sources. You can be certain this is genuine."

The Major took another look at the most important paragraphs before speaking. "What do you want from my unit?"

"Your unit is to stand down. You, Major, will officially be going on administrative leave."

The soldier sighed. "Off the books, then? Forgive me, sir…but I have bad experience with that sort of thing."

"I’m aware of your record, Major. These particular circumstances are why I chose you."

"Ok, I’ve heard of Wolfram and Hart by reputation. Lawyers, right?"

"They’re much more than that, I’m afraid. Wolfram and Hart is the most powerful organization on Earth when it comes to interdimensional dealings. If evil is afoot here, we generally consider them to be the likliest suspects. Through hard work – and regrettably the loss of more than a few good men - we’ve become privy to communications emanating from their Melbourne branch for some time."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Of course."

"This isn’t a hell of a lot to go on."

"I agree. However, we believe it bears investigating."

"Ok, I can see that…but why just send one soldier off the books? A covert ops unit could handle this much more efficiently."

"Normally, Major, I’d agree with you. Unfortunately we cannot guarantee that our own communications haven’t been compromised. Wolfram and Hart have a long reach in government circles. The only officials that are aware of this are the heads of state of all our member nations. No one else."

The soldier frowned. "Seems like a lot of fuss for a couple of messages. There’s not even anything specific."

"Which is why we wish to keep this as quiet as possible. You’re the Security Council’s best man, Major. That is widely known."

"Sir, I appreciate that…but I know enough about Wolfram and Hart to consider this a virtual suicide mission. No one could have a prayer of penetrating their operation alone."

The United Nations Secretary General smiled. "I never said you’d be working alone."

The major raised an eyebrow. "I thought you just said…"

"No UN troops will be officially involved, that is correct."

He handed the officer a plane ticket. "Commercial transport to Los Angeles. Earth’s home office for Wolfram and Hart. Whatever is going on, that is where you must look. As to who you’ll be working with…as I said, Major, I’ve read your file. You are uniquely qualified for our purposes. I cannot directly order you to involve civilians…but I believe you understand me, yes?"

The soldier sighed. "Yes, sir. I’m beginning to get the picture."

"Your flight leaves in four hours. There will be a car waiting for you at LAX. After you arrive, all contact with us will be terminated until such time that we consider it prudent to do so…though I’d expect Sunnydale to be your first stop. Outside of that, I have no specific orders other than to retrieve all the information you can and report back to us. In short, once you are on the ground you’re in command and on your own."

The major couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

"Is something funny, Major?"

Riley Finn shrugged slightly. "If you knew these people like I do, Mister Secretary, you’d know that I won’t be in command of anyone."

- End Chapter Nine -