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No such thing as coincidences	By : All4Spike Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Threesomes/Moresomes > Angel(us)/Buffy/Spike(William) > Angel(us)/Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 6097 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter six

Spike was dreaming. He knew it had to be a dream because it was too wonderful to be real. Filling his nose was the fresh fruity scent of shampoo, the delectable musk of his Slayer, and the heady perfume of recent sex. Silky hair brushed against his face, his left arm reached over a soft warm body that was pressed the whole length of his own, and his hand cupped a perfectly hand-sized breast under which he could both feel and hear a slow strong heartbeat. His right arm was cradling a heavy head, and his erection was being firmly held in a very warm snug grip.

He smiled. This was the best dream ever. He wondered what was going to happen next. He didn’t have long to wait for developments, the warm grip pulsed, then again, and again. Something was rhythmically squeezing him, and it felt very good indeed. He sighed in pleasure, the perfect dream. He hoped he never had to wake up from it.

“Good morning Spike.”

His eyes flew open in shock. Not a dream then. Better than any dream could possibly be. This was real! She had actually stayed, had slept with him! “Morni’…” he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Mornin’ Buffy, how’s things?”

“Well… my things are just great, thank you, how are your things?”

“Never been better, thanks to you love.” He purred, kissing the hollow of her neck which was right in front of his mouth. That delightful pressure squeezed him again. He raised his head slightly, the better to see what was going on. He was curled up against Buffy’s back, and she had somehow managed to ease him inside her while he slept. What a way to wake up! She didn’t appear to move, but the grip tightened once more, making him gasp. “Whatcha doin’ pet?”

“I’m doing my morning exercises. This is way more fun than boring old sit-ups, don’t you think? Way to go Slayer muscle control! What’s the verdict? You like? Or should I go back to the old way?” The muscles contracted again… and again, the frequency and strength of the pulses increasing.

“Er… no thanks love, you’re all right, I think I prefer this way. I know you said you had muscles I’ve never dreamed of, but… Oooh!…” He groaned and pressed himself even closer against Buffy’s back as another wave of contractions clamped around him. He transferred his left hand from Buffy’s breast to her belly to feel the rippling muscles massaging him from both sides at once. The sensation was indescribably erotic.

“Well, I was going to get up, but there was the slight problem of lack of clothing, so I thought I might as well do my exercises in bed.” She explained.

“Excellent idea my love, we’ll have to make a note of this and add it to your training schedule…” He gasped again, “On a regular basis…” He wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate. His hand moved slightly further downwards to investigate her hot moist centre, and the next time she squeezed him hard, he stroked her gently. They both moaned together. The stroking and squeezing increased in tempo, her breathing and heartbeat speeding up to match, and soon Spike was burying his face in her hair chanting “Oh God… Oh Buffy… What’re you doing to me woman?... Oh love!… Oh BUFFEEEE!!” While Buffy was gasping “Oh… oh!… OH!... OOOOOH SPIIIIIIKE!!...”

“Well… that was… interesting…” Panted Buffy after a few moments, stroking Spike’s arm.

“Interesting?” Spike was still having a bit of trouble accepting that he wasn’t dreaming. “That was bloody fantastic!” He rested for a few seconds, then allowed himself to slip out of her tight embrace and turned her towards him, drawing her close for a leisurely kiss and cuddle. Several heavenly minutes later he raised his head slightly and drank in every feature of his Slayer’s beautiful face. She was smiling in relaxed contentment. He tried to imprint the image on his memory in case he never got the chance to see it again. “I believe this is what they call the afterglow love, wonderful innit? You’re certainly glowing... all golden like the sun! Am I?”

“You’re more moonglowy, all pale and silvery.” She stroked his cheekbone, then his scarred eyebrow, and then lifted her face to his and kissed him lightly on the tip of his nose. She sighed, relaxing back into his arms, “I wonder what the time is… I’m starving.”

Turning to look at the window, Spike barely managed to suppress a crow of pure joy. A passionate kiss on the mouth… or any other part of the body for that matter… could be explained away as ‘just sex’. A little kiss on the nose like that could only be a sign of real affection. He wondered if Buffy realised that. He didn’t dare ask. He judged the quality of light being diffused through the curtains. “Looks like early afternoon pet, perhaps one o’clock? We’ve had a lovely long sleep, just what you needed.” As he turned back his eyes were drawn to a patch of colour on the dresser. “Well I never, we’ve had a visitor while we slept. Look Buffy, the clothes fairy’s been!”

He reluctantly disengaged his limbs from Buffy’s, flung back the covers and padded over to see what had been delivered. There were two distinct piles of clothes, one consisted of a brand new pair of black button fly Levi’s, a pack of three plain black T shirts, and his old faded black jeans and black and silver print shirt that he had arrived in LA wearing, freshly washed. On top of the heap, neatly coiled, was his leather belt, cleaned of demon egg. The other pile comprised a complete co-ordinated outfit for Buffy, minus shoes. “Grab your towel and these pet, go and have a shower and find yourself some breakfast, or should that be lunch? When we’ve eaten I have a few things to go over with you about our little battle last night, while it’s still fresh in your mind. How’s your ankle feeling?”

“Someone was in here while we were sleeping? Buffy asked, horrified, sitting up clutching the bedclothes to her chest.

“Don’t fret love, we were all covered up. Look at it like this, someone was being very thoughtful. Now we don’t have to wander around the hotel corridors in the altogether looking for clothes. They’ve even bought me some new things!” He gestured towards her foot, “Ankle?”

Buffy flexed and rotated her injured ankle, then stood up and tested her weight on it. “All better, just a little ache and that’ll be gone in an hour or so.”
Spike scooped the large towel up off the floor, wrapped it around her sneaking one more kiss, and then handed her her clothes. “Shower… food… then a little training session before we go back to research.” He patted her on the bottom, nudging her towards the door.

As she slipped out of the room Buffy turned to smile sweetly at him, “Thank you for my birthday present,” and was gone.

Spike stretched and grinned in smug satisfaction. He picked up his towel intending to go and find another bathroom for his own shower, but then he paused and smirked wickedly. “No… I think I’ll spend the rest of the day with my Slayer’s lovely scent all over me. I’ll have some fun and rub the big poof’s sensitive vampire nose in it… just this once…” He slipped into his softened old jeans and one of the new T shirts. “I’ll have to remember to get my boots and coat later and clean all the gunk off them, it should be easy enough to brush off once it’s dried.”

When he reached the lobby he found Xander and Gunn comparing their experience with, and opinions of, the various weapons in the cabinet, and Fred sitting at the computer behind the reception desk. The voices of Giles and Wesley drifted from the office. No sign of Angel. Never mind, he thought, the fun could wait.

“You did an impressive job on those demons last night Spike,” said Gunn, “Angel asked us to go out to check that everything was safe. You did make a bit of a mess didn’t you?”
“More like he sent you to check I’d told him the truth about what happened… he didn’t believe me did he?” Spike contradicted.

“Yes… Well… You really took all of those demons out… just the two of you?” Gunn sounded very sceptical.

“It was mostly the Slayer, I just helped out a bit, watched her back.” Spike shrugged, “You haven’t seen her in action, Charlie-boy so it’s understandable you’re finding it hard to accept what she can do. She’s very special.”

Xander glanced up from the unusual axe made out of a hubcap that he was handling, “I tried to tell him, but he didn’t believe me. Where is Buffy anyway? I haven’t seen her yet today.”

“She’s getting dressed. After a bad nightmare and then our nice little battle she was knackered, after we’d got all that disgusting demon egg off us she needed a good long sleep. Now she’s starving… any food going?”

“Sleep… right…” Xander commented sarcastically, “She’s rather a noisy sleeper isn’t she? What with the screaming and the roaring…”

Gunn chuckled, but Spike just looked back at Xander, scarred eyebrow raised, waiting for the expected stream of hostile comments to continue. The young man took a deep breath, made a very creditable effort, swallowed whatever he had been intending to say and continued. “A nightmare? I thought it was Dawn who had those, not Buffy.”

Impressed, Spike nodded in acknowledgement of Xander’s self-control, and responded as if there had never been a problem. “Different nightmare, Harris. Dawn’s is ‘I’m up on a scary tower and I’m hurt and bleeding and the world’s about to end and Buffy’s going to jump to her death and leave me all alone’. The Slayer’s is more a ‘I was happy in Heaven but now I’ve woken up buried in a sealed box and I’ve got to claw my own way out’ sort of thing.”

“Oh…” Xander whispered sadly, remembering. “We didn’t realise… we just didn’t think… so stupid…”

“Not a lot to be done about it now, lad, she just needs some time to work it through. Killing a few demons always makes her feel a bit better, that’s why we went out last night. She needed to let off some steam.” Spike wandered over to Fred, “Has anyone done anything about lunch? If you’ve all eaten I’ll need to find the Slayer something.”

“We’ve just ordered take-out, Spike.” Seeing his disgusted expression, she added “Sandwiches, there’s this deli down the road, they do fantastic huge sandwiches, salads, all sorts of wonderful stuff, honestly Mr Healthy Eating Guy!” She giggled. “We’ve even ordered some fruit this time!”

Mollified, Spike turned his smile up to full power and asked, “In that case sweetie, any chance of a mug of blood for the poor starving vampire?”

A few minutes later Spike was savouring his breakfast, complete with burba weed seasoning… (and where, he wondered, had that come from?) as he poked his head into the office. “How’s it going Watchers? Did Angel finish copying the third sketch last night?”
“Good afternoon Spike. Yes he has done his best, but look, it doesn’t really help, it could be anything. We were just trying to decide what to do next.” Giles passed him a sheet of paper. “The writing on the reverse of the parchment is just as useless, we can’t even make out what language it’s in.”

Spike took the drawing and turned it round and round, trying to decide which way up it should go. As Angel had said, apart from the empty circles which he assumed showed the location of its three inevitable emeralds, it was a very intricate pattern of swirls and coils, with no obvious outline to give it definition. “Let’s have another look at the original, gents. I’ve just thought of something.” Putting his emptied mug down, he exchanged the pencil sketch for the demon parchment, and peered closely at it, concentrating at the edges of the swirly pattern. “We’ve examined it under the lamp, but has anyone had a close look in sunlight, or any other kind of light? I was just wondering if there was a second type of blood involved, or possibly some sort of ink, one that’s so faded or degraded that we can’t see it under ordinary electric light.”

Wesley perked up, “I believe Fred has one of those ultra-violet lamps somewhere. I wonder…” He left the office with a slight spring in his step.

“Any reason to get close to Fred gives him a happy,” thought Spike, “Poor chap, he’s got it almost as bad as me!” Then aloud, “How’s Willow today Giles? Any after effects?”

“She’s very quiet, but I gather that’s been the case for a while now, Tara can’t sense any darkness in her, so hopefully there won’t be any long term consequences.”

Spike nodded, “That’s good, things are tricky enough at the moment without Red going all psycho on us. Let’s see the mystery writing again then.”

Giles passed over the copy Angel had made of the reverse of the demon parchment, but again Spike had to admit defeat. “No, sorry, not a clue. Have you tried sending a copy to old Quentin? Perhaps someone on the Council of Wankers might be able to help. Now the Slayer’s brought him back in line again you should make use of him as much as you can to reinforce his training.” Spike grinned wickedly. “I expect he’d like something useful to do for a change.”

Giles looked at him strangely, “Full of good ideas recently aren’t you Spike? How come they were never in evidence before?”

“Ah well Rupert, I seem to remember a little question of trust, or rather the lack of it, that would make you immediately jump in the opposite direction from anything I suggested. Then there was the time when you told me… not that long ago now I come to think of it… “If I want your opinion, Spike… I'll never want your opinion.” So I kept quiet. Things seem to be a bit different since I’ve got mixed up in one of your prophecies though. As you’ve actually started asking nicely, I figured I’d start trying to help more. Feels good. Besides, helping you with this helps the Slayer. That’s what I do.”
Giles muttered something under his breath. Spike caught “…irritating little twerp…” and decided he didn’t really want to know the rest.

Spike realised this was as good an opportunity as was he was going to get to raise the problem he’d been mulling over for a couple of days. “Rupert, I’ve been trying to figure out a way of getting the Slayer an income that doesn’t involve flipping revolting burgers for hours on end for rude ungrateful sods who all owe their lives to her but don’t even thank her for serving them. She’s slowly dying in that disgusting place. She gets so exhausted she’s off her Slaying game, and Dawnie’s feeling a bit neglected from her being so busy all the time. She’s been acting out so much they’ve had Social Services nosing around threatening to take her away. That’d kill the Slayer! On top of all that the money is so bad it doesn’t even pay all the bills. Now we’ve got this Portal business to contend with as well there’s no way she should have to work there, but she says she really needs the money. I promised her I’d try to find a legal way of getting some cash for her, but I’m coming up empty. Could do with another brain working on the problem. How have other Slayers earned their living?”

Before Giles had the opportunity to answer, a cheerful voice announced that the take-out had arrived. The delivery guy was paid, and all the humans started diving in and grabbing their favourites. Everyone else must have heard the commotion, because suddenly the place appeared to be full of young women. As she passed the office door Buffy glanced over to him and their eyes met. He twitched his eyebrow and smirked suggestively, tongue peeking out slightly to lick his lower lip. Buffy flushed slightly and tried rather unsuccessfully to suppress a grin, then turned to concentrate on getting Dawn and Willow settled on the red sofas with their food, while Tara sat cradling Connor. Ah… so that’s where they’d all been! Fred arrived to sit with them bringing a bottle, but the baby didn’t appear to be interested in feeding with so much attention diverting him.
Feeling virtuous, Spike went over and offered to take Connor to allow Tara to eat her lunch with the others. The room appeared to have split into two groups, the ladies in the red sofa seating area and the men over by the reception desk, so once he was loaded up with baby and bottle Spike joined Xander, Gunn, Wes and Giles.

“Where’s Angel then?” he asked as he got Connor comfy and happily feeding.
“Sleeping.” Replied Wesley. “Unlike some vampires he prefers to keep to his natural nocturnal hours as much as possible.”

Spike swore silently. He hoped that his Slayer’s scent would linger on him long enough to have the desired aggravating effect when Angel rose that evening.

“Lorne?” He asked next.

“He’s out on a secret mission. At least that’s what he said, I have no idea what it might be though. It isn’t for one of our clients.”

As he fed Connor, Spike kept catching quiet snatches of conversation from the ladies in the seating area. Vampire hearing could be so handy when people forgot about it! He realised that it was a mercy that vampires didn’t blush when he heard a cheeky giggle and “...doesn’t need to come up for air!...” He deliberately didn’t glance over there, he knew there would probably be eyes directed at him and if they caught him looking they’d realise he could hear them. Another slightly louder whisper was, “…four?... Wow!” Then after a lull, “… roars? That was him…? It woke me up!…” At which he had terrible trouble keeping a straight face.

As delighted as he was to learn that Buffy was at last confiding in her friends about something, he wished she’d begun with a different topic… like ‘how coming back from the dead increases one’s tendency towards dry flaky skin’ or something similarly innocuous. After a few minutes he heard Dawn’s excited whisper, “…hair and make-up too…” and winced in dismay as the girls all laughed. Now too many secrets were coming out! It hit him then that his Dawnie was right there, hearing all Buffy’s revelations… about him!… He’d never be able to look her in the face again! Proper young ladies simply shouldn’t discuss such things! He paused to reconsider his last thought and was stunned to realise there must be some of the prudish Victorian gentleman still in him. When he heard, “…than Angel?...” he decided not to listen any more.

He belatedly realised that Xander was looking at him expectantly. Oh dear, what had just been said? He’d been so focussed on the confidences being shared on the other side of the room, he’d been ignoring the conversation going on around him. “Er... sorry Harris. Er… miles away, what was that again?”

“I said… what was that poem you were reading yesterday that you thought might be all about vampires? You said it made you think of you and Drusilla. I can’t remember the title and I wanted to ask Giles about it.

“Oh the Keats, ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’. Yes… what with references to a Pale Knight and thrall I thought the poet might have had an encounter with some vampires. What do you think Rupert?”

“Pale Knight?” Wesley muttered, and thoughtfully picking up his remaining sandwiches and drink, he wandered off into the office, frowning.

“What is it with vampires and poetry?” demanded Gunn. “First Angel now you… is it a ‘vampire’ thing or a ‘having been around for hundreds of years’ thing?”

“It might just be a ‘having had a good education’ thing Charlie-boy, ever think of that?” Spike smirked, “I think it goes with the ‘enjoys good literature’ and ‘loves real music’ things.”
“Real music? The Sex Pistols and The Ramones? Please!” Protested Giles.

“I liked other music before punk came in Rupert, everyone’s tastes change with the ages. I once went to see Mr Rachmaninov perform his 2nd piano concerto, it was mind-blowing. That man’s hands were bloody enormous, he could do things with a piano keyboard that made other musicians green with envy!” Spike became very excited at the memory. “Then there was the time we were in Vienna when Mr Strauss junior was playing his waltzes, that was an experience never to be forgotten! Dru and I danced until we dropped. Apart from that there was the period when I’d have crossed continents to get tickets to a good production of Nabucco, Rigoletto or La Traviata… as far as I was concerned then, dear old Joe V. could do no wrong!” Spike continued heatedly, “As for ballet… some of those dancers are almost as athletic as the Slayer! Once in Paris I saw a production of Giselle that would have changed your life!”

“Oh Giselle, yes, I loved that too… it was fantastic… the dancers were so strong and graceful… until all the weird space-time continuum warping, swordfighting, romantic re-enactment magic started happening that is…” Gunn commented. “Getting stabbed wasn’t so much fun…”

As a result of this intriguing statement Gunn was talked into describing the Angel Investigations team’s recent trip to the ballet, which had not gone at all as expected.

He finished his story as everyone was finishing their lunch. Connor had been asleep on Spike’s shoulder for a while after finishing his bottle, and all of a sudden people were walking around and moving on to whatever they’d planned for the afternoon. As Willow and Tara passed the desk Willow came over to Spike, and laid a hand on the shoulder that wasn’t encumbered with baby.

“Thank you for yesterday Spike, Tara says you saved my life. I don’t remember much about it, but I woke up this morning feeling better than I have for ages.”

“You’re welcome Red, just be careful what trinkets you play with in future… OK?”

“Oh yes… no more enchanted jewellery for me… that way lies badness and black roots!”

Tara reclaimed Connor, then Buffy approached. “Spike? You said there was something you wanted to go over about last night?”

Spike gazed at her adoringly, thinking how wonderful it would be to go over everything about last night again… and again… and again… then he came to his senses and realised what she meant. “Oh! Yes love, I think there are a couple of lessons for you to learn while the fight is fresh in your mind.”

“First point: You threw me your knife when you saw I’d lost my sword. Thank you for the thought, pet, but that was a bloody stupid thing to do. I had a knife of my own and my fangs, I could have managed quite well. What would have happened if you’d been as careless as me and lost your axe?” Buffy gasped as she realised she would have been left almost defenceless. “Your life is more important than mine, never do that again.”

“Second point: Do you know why I lost my sword? It was because I was panicking. This bloody stupid woman whose back I was supposed to be watching decided to go dashing off into a the middle of a herd of demons without letting me know what she was doing. I had to take out four of the buggers before I could reach her, expecting all the time to get there too late and find a dead body. Slayer, I’ve had to watch you die once, I am not prepared to do it again! Next time, let me in on the sodding plan!”

“Sorry,” Buffy said guiltily. Spike was gratified to see Giles directing a disapproving frown at her.

“Third point: A little demonstration. Come over here pet.” Spike walked out into the centre of the foyer, pushed the blue sofa to one side, and then took two swords from the weapons cabinet. “Take this sword, swing it at a demon in front of you the way you were swinging with your axe last night.” Buffy swung the sword… “Stop! Now then, the demon was directly in front of you, right? So what’s your blade doing right round here to your left? If it hasn’t met significant resistance by the time it gets here,” Spike indicated a point slightly to the left of the space directly in front of her, “you’ve either missed altogether, or you’ve decapitated him or slit his guts open. Either way, swinging it around another couple of feet isn’t going to make any difference. Meantime your entire right flank is open.”

“You’re right handed, I’m left handed. That gives us a special problem when we’re in combat. When I’ve got your back, look what happens when you swing at the same time I do.” He stood in his customary place, directly behind Buffy, leaving a slight gap between them to allow for swinging weapons and dodging back and forth. He said “now!” and they both swung their swords, “Stop! Now see what’s happened? Your right flank and my left… both are vulnerable leaving an enemy a wide space to get in and injure one of us. Your wounds were all down your right side.” Spike stripped his T shirt off, threw it over onto the sofa and turned to show his almost healed scratches “As you can see my claw marks were all down my left side, here, here, and also down my leg. You need to control your swing and recover more quickly. Let’s have a little practice so I can show you what I mean.”
They faced each other, swords raised. “Please try to kill me… just don’t decapitate me.” He added pointedly, “That would be bad.” There was an amused murmur from the interested people watching, and Buffy grinned. “Any other sword wound I can recover from, particularly now the lovely Tara’s invented her Patent Vampire Instant Healing Magic Potion.”

Buffy leapt forward, swinging her sword. The two weapons clashed together noisily as Spike parried. For a minute or two they swept back and forth across the floor, blades crashing together faster and faster. Eventually one of Buffy’s swings went a bit too wide, and Spike sent his sword into the opening, twisting his wrist at the last moment so the flat of his blade hit her in the ribs. “Ooof!” Buffy’s face took on a very determined expression as she concentrated.

“You’re thinking again Slayer, instinct!” Spike yelled, barely dodging a stroke that came perilously close to his neck. At dizzying speed, Buffy changed her tactics, and instead of swinging, she thrust her blade straight forward, driving it right through Spike’s chest. He grunted, wincing with pain, and hesitated for a moment. Then he dodged away, forcing the startled Slayer to release her grip on her weapon. He then advanced towards her, with the sword hilt jutting out of his chest and the point showing a good six inches out of his back, driving home a mock attack from which she retreated with Slayer speed, squealing.

“Do you know what you did wrong then, Slayer? You forgot that not all demons can be killed by a sword through the body. You’ve left yourself unarmed, and the nasty old demon is still after you. If you haven’t hit anything fatal in the first six inches, you’re probably not going to. There is no benefit to running your sword right through him poking about for stray vital organs, all it’ll do is cause problems. Even if you do kill him, his body is likely to collapse and take your sword with it, which is what happened to me last night. The secret is thrust... and recover.” He demonstrated by jabbing his sword sharply forward, then withdrawing his sword quickly and stepping back to regain his balanced stance. “Never assume that you’ve made a killing blow and drop your guard. That could get you dead.”

Strolling calmly over to Buffy he said, “There, you’ve got some things to think about, Slayer. Take your sword back and clean it please.”

“You expect me to pull it out of you?”

“Well yeah. After all you’re the one who stuck it in me.”

“But if I pull it out won’t it hurt?”

“It already bloody hurts woman!”

“Don’t yell at me!”

“Why not? I think I’m entitled after getting a sodding sword through the chest!”

“But you asked me to kill you!”

Spike sighed in frustration. “Just pull the damned sword out Slayer.”

“But it’s all icky…” Buffy protested, making a moue of distaste as she gestured at the blood slowly running along the blade to drip off the hilt.

“Icky? You mean it’s got my blood all over it? Sorry about that Slayer, must be because you stuck it through my bleedin’ chest! When did you get so squeamish anyway? You’ve been spilling blood for years, we were both covered with it last night and you didn’t turn a hair.”

“But that was demon blood, it’s not the same.”

Spike cocked his head to one side and raised his scarred eyebrow, giving her the classic ‘duh!’ look, waiting for her to remember that he was also a demon. At the same time a little thrill passed through him as he realised she was once more treating him as different from other demons, more like a man.

“Oh.” Buffy said quietly as understanding dawned.

Spike patiently reminded her, “The sooner you pull it out pet, the sooner I’ll start to heal.”

Taking a deep breath Buffy grasped the hilt of the sword in both hands and gave a sharp tug. Unfortunately this wasn’t the correct manoeuvre, as all it did was jerk Spike forward off balance so that he crashed into her, and he only managed to prevent the pair of them from landing in a heap with him on top, sword hilt between them, by grabbing her around the shoulders and doing a little off balance dance, during which he trod heavily on one of her bare feet.

“Ow! Stupid woman!” he cried, at exactly the same moment as she yelled “Ow! Clumsy much?”

After sanity had been restored, Spike explained in a ‘desperately trying not to strangle her’ voice: “You can’t do it like that Slayer, it’s hitched up in a couple of ribs.” He turned and asked, “Would somebody please help brace me?” Xander and Giles moved to either side of him and prepared to resist Buffy’s efforts. He grasped their shoulders and, “Thanks fellas. Now pet, you’ll want to give it a slow steady pull, putting your Slayer strength into it.”

Buffy summoned up her frayed nerves and tried again. This time the sword slid slowly out of Spike’s body, making a truly unpleasant scraping and sucking sound in the process.

“Ew! That was really disturbing,” Dawn commented, “I think I might be scarred for life. That was even worse that seeing you get run through, Spike!”

At the same time as Xander muttered, “Really agree!” Spike replied, “Not much fun for me either, Niblet.” He rolled his shoulders to relax the muscles that had tensed up from the pain and physical effort of moving around with a lump of steel sticking through his body.
While Buffy accepted the cloth Gunn passed to her and daintily began to clean Spike’s blood off the sword, Fred approached with the first aid kit from the office. When she expertly dressed his wounds Spike realised she would probably be used to doing it for Angel.

When he was comfortable, or at least as comfortable as anyone can be with a hole through their body, Spike slipped his T shirt back on and went out to sit in the shady part of the garden to rest, enjoy the flowers, and smoke a cigarette in peace.

It wasn’t long before Buffy came and sat beside him. “You really taught Dawn how to apply her make-up, and create lots of fancy hairstyles?”

“Defensively, Spike muttered, “She wasn’t supposed to spread that around, she’ll ruin my image.” Seeing Buffy’s expression he realised he was not going to get away with not answering. “When you have to keep a very sad and very bored teenager occupied for months, the usual things tend to get very old very quickly. You have to improvise.”
“How do you know how?”

“I was with Drusilla for over a century. She wanted to look beautiful. It’s was bit tricky for her to get her hair and make-up the way she wanted without a reflection. I helped her. It was great when those little booths came in that you could sit in and take strips of instant photos of yourself, we spent a bloody fortune in Grand Central Station one weekend when she wanted a new look. I’d do her face and hair, we’d go and get the photos done so she could see how she looked, then she’d want to change something, and we’d have to do it all over again. I tried to find out who invented Polaroid cameras once, I wanted to go and kiss the bloody genius!”

Buffy giggled. “What else did you teach Dawn?”

“Well… she can waltz beautifully now, she’s all ready for her first High School Formal, and… er… you might not want to play poker with her for money. She’s a natural.”

“You taught my little sister to play poker?” Buffy exclaimed, horrified. “Did you teach her to smoke and get drunk too?”

“No!” Spike insisted, “I’d never do that!” He reflected for a moment and decided he’d better be honest “Er… well… I did give her a cigarette once, just to try like, and it made her cough and feel sick, so she won’t be doing that again in a hurry, which was sort of the point, and she really didn’t like the taste of the godawful cheap beer I gave her a sip of, so she probably won’t be going off getting drunk any time soon either.”

Buffy glared at him. He didn’t like it. It made his nose itch as if it was preparing for being punched.

“I was helping!” He protested, “They call it aversion therapy! You should feel sorry for me, I had to finish the bottle off in front of her and it was disgusting!”

“Spike? You’re a pig!”

“Yes dear.” He sighed in weary resignation. “Unfortunately I haven’t figured out a way of stopping her wanting to go out with boys yet… as we found out on Halloween. I thought perhaps showing the fangs to any oiks that start hanging around her might put them off… at least until she’s about twenty five…”

At this Buffy started giggling, Spike looked askance at her, afraid she’d gone completely nuts, and seeing this made her laugh even harder. “Oh you should have heard yourself!” She wiped her eyes and hiccupped, “‘Big Bad’ indeed… oh dear… more like ‘Big Mother Hen’…”

“Er… Buffy?” Spike decided he’d better tell it all now he’d started. “Just one more thing…”

“What?”

“Er… I taught her to drive.” He watched her face carefully for a reaction. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything. He hurriedly defended himself, “She’s a good driver! If I said she’s the only other person I’d ever let drive my car would that help?”

“Oh Spike…” Buffy breathed, shaking her head slowly. She gave another little giggle and relaxed back onto the seat.

They just sat there for a few minutes with only Buffy’s occasional eruption of giggly hiccups breaking the comfortable silence, and then Giles stuck his head out of the door and asked, “Spike? Could you come and have a look at the parchment again please? I think you may have been right about that ink.”

Spike got up and followed Giles back to the office, trailed by a curious Slayer. Wesley was sitting at the desk shining a dim blueish light onto the parchment from a small hand-held lamp. He was wearing a pair of weird plastic goggles, and looked rather silly. Looking up Wesley said, “Spike, I think I can see a faint outline under this light, but I’d like you to have a look please.”

He switched off the lamp, got up, and the two switched places. Wesley offered Spike the goggles, “Do I need those?” asked Spike.

“I have no idea” replied the ex-Watcher.

Spike shrugged, ignoring the goggles, and bent over the parchment as Wesley turned the lamp back on. He was just focussing on the clearly revealed shape of the design, when he felt himself being grabbed and thrown out of the chair, across the room. He started to sit up, angry and bewildered. “Hey! What the Bloody Hell was that for!” He yelled, but the second half of his question was muffled by a cloth being dropped over him. His head was patted vigorously, then the same treatment was given to his hands.

Gradually Spike became aware of the smell of burning hair and flesh. It wasn’t nice. It was very familiar however. Then the pain hit him. “Aaaaaargh! Bleedin’ Hell!” He brought his hands under the covering cloth, so he could see them. They were still slightly smoking.

Buffy’s highly irritated voice was clearly audible from under his covering. “Wesley, please don’t set fire to Spike.”

Spike grinned despite his discomfort. The cold sharp tone of her ‘Slayer Giving Orders’ voice was one that was usually directed at him. It was refreshing to hear someone else on the receiving end for a change. He dragged the cloth down off his head, and discovered that it was Buffy’s sweater. He clutched it to his face, inhaling her scent in an effort to clear the smell of singed Spike from his nostrils. “What happened?”

Giles looked rather sheepish. “It appears that Ultra Violet lamps are as effective on vampires as direct sunlight, Spike. Sorry, we didn’t realise. Luckily Buffy noticed almost immediately, I don’t think too much damage is done, is it?”

Spike took a few moments to assess his person. His hands were still painful, but had stopped smoking and the skin hadn’t raised into blisters the way it had that time he’d passed out in the garden of the old mansion on Crawford Street and woken up with the sun shining full on his hand. He gingerly felt his head, and found a patch of singed hair at the front. Oh great, he was going to look a right twit now!

He looked up at Buffy, standing rigid with displeasure, with hair all mussed and arms folded glaring at the two former watchers, completely forgetting that on her top half she was only wearing a brief lacy bra. Spike admired her poise for a moment, glorying in her defence of him, then he cleared his throat, and stroking her leg to attract her attention he reluctantly held the sweater up to her. “Thanks love, here, have your sweater back.” She abruptly became aware of her state of undress and blushed crimson. She grabbed the sweater and held it to her chest, hesitated a moment, and then fled.

Spike clambered to his feet, set his overturned chair back on its legs and sat down again. He laid his hands flat on the desk and examined them carefully. “No scorching, gents, just lightly smoked.” He took a deep unneeded breath to calm himself, and continued, “I saw a clear outline to the design on that sodding parchment before I was so violently interrupted. So… how are we going to work this?”

“Are you all right to continue Spike?” Wesley asked doubtfully.

“Wes, if a sword through the chest doesn’t stop me, this certainly won’t!” He pondered for a few seconds. “Gloves? Has anyone got some gloves and a peaked cap of some sort?”
He sat alone for a few minutes, thanking his lucky stars for the speed of Slayer reflexes, as Giles and Wesley went searching for gloves and cap. He arranged the parchment and Angel’s sketch conveniently for the task ahead, and tried to relax. She’d saved him yet again. Was it just because she needed his help, or something more? He simply didn’t know.

Wesley shortly returned with his motorcycle gauntlets and a baseball cap, and then Giles appeared with a cup of tea and some ginger nuts. Spike chuckled, the universal British panacea for crises of all kinds... a good old cuppa. “Thanks Giles, appreciate it.” The gloves made holding the pencil rather awkward, but not as awkward as bursting into flames would have been.

Wesley switched the lamp back on directing the blue light onto the parchment, and with quick deft strokes Spike completed the picture on which Angel had worked for so long. He sat back as Wesley turned the lamp off and turned the paper around, “It’s a sort of fancy necklace fellas, look.” He held it up to them. The intricate work that Angel had been tracing out was now clearly revealed as very fine filigree, forming a deep triangular bib suspended from a narrow band that would circle the throat. There was a smaller matching bib that would drape down the wearer’s back, and a fine chain connecting them on each side, that would pass around the wearer’s body under the arms.

The reason the sketch had been so hard to read was the fact that the thin collar to encircle the neck, the surrounding rims of the two bibs that defined their shapes and the spiral settings for the emeralds were drawn in the second type of ink. The inevitable three gems were spaced in a triangle, one that would fall over the hollow of the wearer’s neck at the collar bone on the narrowest part of the front, the other two spaced apart lower down and looking as if they might be positioned over the breasts of the wearer. It was an impressive piece of jewellery. “Slayer’ll look gorgeous in that, when we find it.” Spike announced. “Unusual design, I’ve seen some lovely stuff over the years, Dru loved pretty things, but I’ve never seen a necklace this shape before.”

Giles muttered his agreement, and stood for a few minutes deep in thought, then he exclaimed “Oh, of course! Spike, if you remember we decided that you would need to drink from Buffy to be able to close the portals?” Spike nodded. “Well, look at the shape of the necklace, all the substance of it is down the centre front and back, and the collar will fasten quite high around the throat. Look which parts will be completely clear.” He took a pencil, and drew faint lines to sketch in the neck and shoulders of the wearer. It became evident that the main blood vessels in the throat would be left conveniently bare.

“Ingenious!” Spike exclaimed, and then looked up to see Buffy returning in a clean shirt. “Look Slayer, this lovely necklace is your Portal Power artefact… when we find it.”

Buffy smirked at Spike’s ridiculous appearance, and he quickly removed the gloves and cap he’d forgotten he was wearing. “Nice” she remarked when she saw the finished sketch, “I wonder where it is?”

“Going by our luck so far one of us will either have it, or know where it is.” Giles suggested, “Wesley, Perhaps you could make a couple of copies of this and we can pass them around?”

Wesley went off to the computer, and Spike got up to leave the office. “I’ve got a coat and boots still covered with disgusting demon egg to clean, has anyone got a stiff brush I could use?” Wesley popped his head back into the office and pointed one out on a shelf.

“See you later.” Spike brushed past Buffy on his way to the door, surreptitiously pressing himself against her back and briefly cupping her behind in his hand to give it a gentle squeeze. He heard her catch her breath, and went upstairs wearing a self-satisfied smirk.

When he reached the bathroom Spike took his duster from the hook on the back of the door and held it over the tub. As he had thought, now that the mixture of egg and blood was dry it had lost most of its pungency and the brush made short work of it, and then he repeated the process on his boots. He put boots and coat on, feeling properly dressed at last, and started back downstairs. He was brought short by the sound of feminine giggles from behind Tara and Willow’s door. Listening carefully he heard Fred saying “Just be careful not to spoil the surprise.” He moved closer in an effort to hear more, but then the door began to open so he dodged back into the bathroom. After Fred had gone past he decided that as he was at a bit of a loose end he would go and disturb Angel. He could tell that his Slayer’s scent was beginning to fade on him, and didn’t want to miss the opportunity to taunt his grandsire with it.

Reaching Angel’s door he heard voices from within, and once more succumbed to the temptation to listen. Angel was saying “… what I said Buffy, but I can’t help thinking it’s a mistake, what would your mother have said?” Spike couldn’t help smiling when Buffy replied “Well actually Angel, Mom liked Spike, they got on really well together. He used to drop in to see her for a chat even when he knew I wasn’t going to be there. She never felt threatened with him the way she did with you, although of course even she freaked out a bit at the whole zapping me and chaining me up in his crypt thing.”

Spike winced at the last part, he was well aware that hadn’t been one of his finer moments. He decided that perhaps now was not a good time to disturb Angel after all, and turned to go back downstairs. He didn’t get far.

Angel burst out of his room and found Spike just at the top of the stairs. He grabbed him in both hands by the front of his leather duster and pinned him against the wall, his feet inches clear of the floor. “You chained Buffy up in your crypt?” He growled.

“Well… yeah?” Spike gasped, “It was last year when Drusilla was in town and everything got a bit confusing. I didn’t hurt her though, and I made sure Dru didn’t either.”

Buffy came up behind Angel and tried to prise his hands off Spike. “Stop it Angel! Let him go!”

Angel made no move to release Spike. “So it was just a bit of innocent bondage fun then?” Angel accused sarcastically. “What had she ever done to you?”

“She chained me up in her Watcher’s bathtub for one thing.” Spike protested, “And then she tormented me by baring her neck just inches away from me, knowing exactly how hungry I was, and she teased me unmercifully when I couldn’t reach it!”

Buffy had been protesting and struggling with Angel’s grip as the two vampires had been speaking, and finally Angel had to let go.

Spike turned to Buffy to continue, “And don’t forget you dropped that sodding great pipe organ on me and crushed my spine!” he retorted, “It was all your fault I was in that hateful wheelchair for weeks and Dru was shagging Angelus!”

“Well you did hire the Order of Taraka to kill me first.” Reminded Buffy. By now both their voices were becoming raised, and they were standing face to face.

“But then I called them off and helped you save Giles and stop Angelus sending us all to Hell with Acathla!”

“That was only so you could get Drusilla back from him!” Buffy countered.

“It wasn't only that, I told you, I like this world too much to see it go to Hell! Anyway, after that I came to you with information about the soldier boys and you held me captive and wouldn’t feed me, and you made a bloody great bear right next to me when I was tied to a chair and stuck full of arrows and couldn’t defend myself!”

“I didn’t mean to… and I killed it anyway!” Buffy yelled back, “And then you went and got mixed up with Adam and his plans for a crazy Frankenstein’s demon army to kill us all, even after I hid you from the Initiative!”

“But I changed my mind and came and helped you fight them!” Spike reminded her, “I didn’t have to do that, I could have led the demons to you instead, so they could kill you!”

“You were always going through my stuff and stealing from my house too!”

“Well yeah, but it’s just as well I was, or I wouldn’t have been there to help you fight the Killer Snot Monster From Outer Space!”

By this time Angel was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, watching them in amused amazement, his eyes going from one to the other as they got more and more heated. They had drawn an audience from the lobby below too, and Willow and Tara had emerged from their room to see what the fuss was about. Everyone was grinning at their furious exchange.

“I don’t know why I bothered to save you from Glory and her minions!” Buffy admitted, throwing her arms in the air in frustration.

“Because you knew you needed me!” Spike yelled, “I bought you time, then I stole the Winnebago for you and even saved you from getting a sodding great sword through your skull!” By this time they were nose to nose, nearly touching as they yelled louder and louder at each other.

“Well, I saved you from that loan shark guy too!” Buffy returned.

“Don’t forget I saved you from burning up and dancing to death when Harris invoked that song and dance demon!” Spike was shaking with fury now.

Buffy came up with what she thought would be the trump card, and screamed, “You had a disgusting robot copy of me made to have sex with!”

“Well I don’t need that any more do I? And you never gave me my silver skull ring back after we weren’t engaged any more, it was my favourite!”

Buffy suddenly realised she’d run out of barbs to fling and, as had become her custom, resorted to rearing back and punching Spike hard on the nose. “You’re a pig Spike!”

Unfortunately as he was standing just inches from the top of the stairs he went tumbling noisily to half way down, where he fetched up jammed against the banisters.

She ran lightly after him, still oblivious to their rapt audience, and as he struggled to his feet she planted another roundhouse on his bloody nose. As she let fly with a third punch Spike used his vampire speed to catch her fist before it connected, saying seriously, “I’m not going to let you beat me up again woman, this time I’ve done nothing to deserve it. If you try that once more I’m going to start fighting back.” He suddenly broke into a wide mischievous grin, adding, “and that probably wouldn’t be a good idea love, I don’t think Angel is ready for his hotel to be demolished just yet!”

Buffy’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, then her grin matched his and she began to laugh. She took a step back and nearly fell down the rest of the flight of stairs. Spike shot out an arm to catch her as she overbalanced, and suddenly she was crushed against him, arms around his neck as their mouths locked in a passionate kiss.

An unfamiliar noise gradually penetrated Spike’s consciousness to distract him from the feel of his Slayer’s tongue entwined with his and her hot body pressed against his own. He turned towards the sound and opened one eye… and saw the crowd below in the hotel lobby, grinning faces all turned upwards in his direction. He became aware that the noise was applause cheering and whistling… at them! He opened the other eye and saw a smiling Angel standing on the landing above. Angel? Smiling? At him kissing Buffy? He gently disengaged his mouth from his Slayer’s, leaving her gasping for breath and clutching his coat to keep upright. “Buffy love,” he chuckled, “we seem to have an audience again.”

Buffy gradually regained her wits and looked around her, and to Spike’s delight instead of blushing, panicking and running away as he had expected, she began to giggle. This started him off again, and a second later they were clinging to each other again, this time helpless with laughter.

Angel called down to the others, “Are they always like this?”

Dawn shrieked back through her laughter, “The yelling and fighting yes, we haven’t seen them get to the kissing and laughing part before though. Now I’ve seen it I’m not sure which bit they enjoy more!”

Slowly the noise abated and Spike and Buffy recovered their composure. Buffy looked up at Angel and shrugged apologetically, and received a smile and a little shrug in return. Spike gave Buffy’s shoulders a squeeze and stepped back, rearranging the drape of his coat to hide the evidence of how much he had enjoyed the events of the past few minutes, and began to go back up the stairs.

Wesley called up “Spike, Buffy, we need to talk to you about something, please come to the office.”

Angel looked down at his friend and asked “You’ve decided you were right then? It’s really him?”

“Yes Angel, I don’t think there’s any doubt left. Perhaps you’d care to join us?”
Exchanging puzzled glances Spike and Buffy joined Wesley, Giles and Angel in the office and took the seats indicated as Giles closed the door to give them some privacy. Angel took a position standing behind them, facing Giles and Wesley who sat at the desk.

“Buffy,” began Giles, taking off his glasses and giving them a thorough polish with a large white handkerchief, “about this er… relationship you have formed with Spike…”

“I know Giles,” Buffy interrupted, “It has to end, it’s all wrong. I’ve known since it began, I just don’t seem to be able…”

“No!” Giles denied firmly, “Well... that is… obviously that is your decision to make Buffy, but please don’t feel compelled to end it unless you really want to… that’s not why we wanted to speak to you.” He took his glasses off again and once more gave them a quick rub, before putting them back on his nose.

Buffy looked at both former watchers in confusion, and Spike drew a deep breath and relaxed muscles he hadn’t realised had tensed up.

Giles continued. “Something Spike said made me think Buffy. Well… actually quite a few things Spike has said recently have made us both think,” he exchanged a meaningful glance with Wesley, “but specifically the issue of you needing a… er… partner… who could match your physical strength made a lot of sense, and wasn’t something I had considered before. Once we made contact with Quentin Travers again and began asking for the Council’s assistance with the prophecy, I added a request for any information that exists about Slayers who may have formed er… attachments to vampires in the past.” Giles once more removed his glasses and made a motion to his pocket for his handkerchief, but realised what he was doing and hesitated before giving a nervous chuckle and putting them back on.
“We have begun to receive the information we requested, and it happens that the first email that arrived was a large file concerning past liaisons between Slayers and vampires. It is a file that is kept in the restricted area of the archive, and is not shown to Watchers unless it is specifically requested. It seems your er… situation… is not unique Buffy, not even unusual. Through the centuries there have been quite a few Slayers, particularly those who have reached more mature years, say eighteen or nineteen, who have formed relationships of one kind or another with vampires.”

Buffy sat open mouthed with astonishment, and Spike dared to begin to hope his new happiness was not about to be destroyed.

“It seems there is a natural affinity between Slayers and some of the older orders of vampires, those who have kept to the traditional ways of only siring people for a purpose or those whom they consider ‘worthy’ of their blood. Those who kept their new get close in a family situation, rather than going around siring people right and left and leaving the new vampires to fend for themselves.” Spike turned to Angel and they held eye contact as they both realised they each fit the description Giles had given.

Wesley took up the explanation. “Looking through the records we find that these liaisons have varied from times when a Slayer has trapped a vampire and kept him captive for a short period to enjoy his er… attentions... before slaying him; to much longer term relationships when the vampire in question has willingly become a recognised member of the Slayer’s household or has even joined her in her Slaying duties, much as you have Spike. In one case in the sixteenth century a Slayer even went through a form of marriage with her chosen vampire consort who became her accepted partner and champion. After her death he stayed as part of the household as bodyguard to her parents and then her siblings and their offspring for many years.”

Giles added directly to Buffy “You should realise that as far as we are aware none of these vampires had souls, all the information we were able to gather when Angel appeared upon the scene indicated that he is the only vampire ever to have existed who has had his soul restored. It seems therefore that the fact that Spike has no soul need not be a major factor in your decision. You should consider him as an individual, and base any decision about the relationship upon your own personal feelings for each other.” He looked Spike in the eye, and smiled before turning back to Buffy, “I think we all recognise Spike’s feelings for you are genuine, he has proved it time and again, however reluctant I was at first to accept the fact. Lorne’s reading only went to confirm it.”

Spike sat up and looked around at the people around him, “Lorne’s reading? What do you mean?”

Wesley nodded to Spike, “We’ll get to that Spike,” and then added, “is he coming in Angel?”

Angel confirmed, “Yes Wes, I finally managed to get hold of him, he’ll be here shortly. It would be better for him to explain his own reading.” He turned to Spike, “You remember you sang to Connor that first morning you were here?” Spike nodded, wordlessly, “Well Lorne was able to take a reading of your aura and saw your destiny, it took us a while to come to terms with it, but I think it’s time you knew what he saw, particularly in light of something else Wesley has found.”

All eyes were directed at Wesley, who took off his own glasses and gave them a brief wipe. “Spike, I’ve found a prophecy…”

“The Portals?” Spike interrupted, we know about that…”

“No Spike,” Wes said, “Another one. There’s a prophecy we’ve realised is specifically about you.”

Buffy turned and looked at Spike in awe.

He sighed, “Oh bugger.”
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No such thing as coincidences