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by Megan 

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [Epilogue]

Chapter Twelve

The Bronze was exactly how the Slayer remembered it. Pumping with music, jollity and fun while the darkness of the underworld crept through the shadows, greedily observing its prey.

After Liz had left them in an uncomfortable circle in the living room, the situation had loomed more and more dangerously over their heads. Willow had been shaking with fear and that had just astounded Buffy, but she could see why the witch was in crisis. The redhead was being confronted with the worst side of herself after she’d healed and paid penance, and this had to mess with her head. Buffy saw that it was high time that they forged ahead as a group and worked out how to help the warriors of this world.

And so with the impromptu Bronzing.

The three dimensional travellers sat in contemplative silence and watched the buzz of life around them. This scene had been dead to all of them for over a year now and it was more surreal to them than stepping through a dimensional rip had been. Strangely, exiting their world for another hadn’t seemed half as bizarre as standing in a club that had sunk to the bottom of the Hellmouth during their defeat of The First.

“Can you believe this?” asked Willow wistfully, her attention flitting from one Bronze staple to the next. The tall cups of soda, the mix of college and high school kids, the live band and the almost imperceptible demons that stalked the weaker of the room.

“I’m finding it kind of difficult to believe this whole day,” Buffy agreed, her eyes inevitably drawn to the vampire at her side. Her expression was soft as he grinned at her. They so needed to talk. All this gazing and lusty undertones was making her happy, but they weren’t resolving anything and one day soon that might not be such a good thing. “Kind of thought with the defeat of Angel’s apocalypse that we’d get the chance to unwind, you know? Where was our post-apocalypse party?” Buffy pouted. She’d been missing too many of those lately. It sucked being the grown-up Slayer sometimes.

Music wonderfully familiar hit their ears and Buffy froze. Everything inside her warned her that things were about to become even more unsteady, but at least the rush of excitement indicated a good kind of unsteady rather than one of the gasping, wheezing, sucking variety.

“Oh boy.” Willow’s voice revealed all kinds of emotion, but the total eradication of the witch’s previous guilt complex gave Buffy the courage to look to the stage. The sight she saw lifted her heart in ways she couldn’t define. To see a familiar face—even if it was just a replica of the one she’d known in her world—gave her monumental joy.

Willow bounced in her seat like days of old and Buffy couldn’t help but giggle.

“It’s Oz!” they shouted in giddy unison and both began to clap along to the music, leaving Spike scratching his head in confusion.

“What are you birds on about? This music is bloody atrocious,” he grumbled, but then he caught sight of the once familiar guitarist and understanding blossomed. “I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore,” he quipped, earning himself an indulgent smile from his girl and a huffy pout from the witch.

It was so difficult to mentally wander back to the days before the Initiative. Before Adam and Dawn—and Joyce’s death. The ones where Buffy had been trying to make a relationship work with Riley and Willow and Oz were happy, when Spike was free as a bird without any behaviour modification what-so-ever and The Magic Box was undergoing new, more aware ownership. Their past was staring them in the face and for the first time Buffy felt the fierce impact of it. Somewhere in this world her mother lived—and may not be dying any time soon. The impulse to locate her and go there was so strong that it brought a knot of tears to her throat.

But it was a desire that Buffy could never give in to. As much as she needed to see the living and breathing reality of her mother, the woman that existed in this world wasn’t her. Just as Willow should let all the pain of her past go—refusing to allow it to intermingle with the exploits of this world’s Willow—Buffy needed to leave the realities of this world to the rightful characters in this play. Maybe when all was dealt with, a few wise words into the receptive ear of Liz might encourage the girl to seize every chance she had with her mother and cherish it for the limits it would have.

Too soon the music from the Dingoes had mellowed the three out and the girls at least were tapping their feet and nodding their heads in time to the beat. The urgency of the situation that had brought them to the club in the first place had slipped minds momentarily, Buffy and Willow happy to succumb to their memories for an hour.

When the band’s final set was complete, Buffy noticed Oz’s covert glance in their direction and the telltale furrow of his brow that was the single indicator that he was nonplussed at their appearance.

“Oz!” Willow called out over the rising din of the crowd preparing for the next act. It was rare to have two bands playing the one night, but Buffy could see that Willow didn’t mind the Dingoes shorter set. She hadn’t seen Oz since the whole Initiative near-disaster and the eventual decision to explore the relationship possibilities with Tara instead of renewing things with her returned werewolf. And guilt aside, it was obviously a moment that was helping the witch to settle into this world.

Buffy saw the straightening of his spine and the way he looked off after his band mates and knew that he wasn’t as enthusiastic to return Willow’s greetings as the redhead was to give them, but he came to some kind of internal decision and casually walked to their table. Noticing Spike seated with them didn’t result in much more than a quirk of the guitarist’s brow and Buffy smirked. It was so good how certain things never changed. No matter which dimension they happened to be in.

Oz nodded at Buffy, his eyes seeming to say more to her than his lips ever had and Buffy smiled brightly, hoping that it was enough to allay all his concerns. She had the feeling Oz was going to find the news that they’d been zapped over from another dimension a lot easier to swallow than the possibility that his Willow was calling him over in an act of non-hostile celebrations.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice casual yet reserved as he stood before them, hands stuffed in his jean pockets.

“Hey,” Willow all but gushed. Buffy found the interchange interesting; she’d always thought her friend would be reasonably cool should they cross paths with Oz again. While Willow hadn’t had a partner in her life since Kennedy had hightailed it to Scandinavia—with very few parting tears from anyone—Buffy would never have guessed that having Oz back on the scene might inflame her interest in the man again.

“Um, why don’t you take a seat?” Buffy charged in, the silence stretching between them all beginning to feel uncomfortable.

Oz reacted to the invitation with a quick glance over his shoulder. “I don’t know if—”

“I’m so sorry about the whole Veruca thing,” Willow rushed in, rolling her eyes at herself before she stood and leaned nervously toward Oz. “I know it wasn’t your fault and yay Buffy for the whole turning up on time thing, because that could have ended really badly. You know, with the me and having my throat ripped out or becoming her chew toy or something. And I know that you coming back just as I was getting to know Tara really had to suck with the timing, and being caught by the Initiative—and I’m so sorry that that happened because, well, bye bye wolf-control—” Desperation to have him stay had activated her tongue, and on topics that this Oz knew nothing about and with a bolt of horror, she feared she couldn’t stop.

“Sure. I can stay.” Oz took up a seat and another long minute stretched by with the four of them checking each other out. Then, before Spike could jump in and tell them all to relax before their eyes popped, Oz nodded decisively. “You’re not my Willow and Buffy, are you?”

“Better bloody not be. This blonde bint is taken,” Spike interrupted petulantly. He didn’t know this boy well—or at all if the truth be told—but already he liked the intuitiveness behind the apathetic exterior.

Buffy grinned. This felt like old times—except for the absence of Xander and the not so subtle inclusion of Spike. Still, it brought a nostalgia so strong for her Hellmouth that tears stung her eyes. “How are you, Oz?”

“Oh, you know,” he said as he shrugged. “Same old.”

“So I guess you’re wondering who we are…or…or at least why we’re here?” Willow asked hopefully. This might not be her Oz, but the attraction and happiness he still wrought was obvious to everyone at the table. Buffy decided then and there that as soon as they got back, she’d send out a search party for the wolf—preferably weeks before the full moon.

“I just figured you were Willow and Buffy—and Spike,” he added with a nod at the vampire. “Who has a soul,” he observed quietly, approval evident in the subtle upward shift of the corners of his mouth.

“You can tell that?” Willow asked awed. “Of course you can tell that. You’re super-sensitive guitarist wolf guy. I bet you can tell lots of things,” she babbled nervously.

A fully-fledged smile broke out on Oz’s face. “It’s good to see you again, Will.”

The redhead blushed, but Buffy caught the edge of sadness in her expression before she ducked her head and realised how hard this must be for her friend as well as for herself. At least her mother wasn’t in Sunnydale, making the decision to not interfere all the more clearer. But Oz was right here—at their table—and the differences between their Oz and this one were indistinguishable.

“So if you’re here, things mustn’t be good.”

The slump of Willow’s shoulders immediately told a story of misery, and Buffy felt even worse for her friend. The witch had been brimming in confidence the past year—in a healthy, good way—and this entry into a world so similar and yet completely unlike theirs was doing more damage to Willow’s self-esteem than anything else could have accomplished.

Before they could tell the story of their appearance in this world, or the latest news about the out-of-control Willow and Liz’s apathetic acceptance of her fate, Spike leaned over and kissed Buffy’s cheek, informing them of his choice to go patrolling and hopefully scoping the place out for current evil plots. Buffy smiled indulgently as he left the table, her eyes drawn to the swish of his coat and the power he always exuded when he cut through a crowd. Love shone in her eyes and was obvious to all who cared to look and her focus on the problem at hand was lost for the length of time it took him to disappear from the Bronze.

Buffy flushed under the pointed grins of her friends.

“Have you and Spike had a chance to talk yet?” Willow generously gave up her Oz-inspection time to indulge in best friend duty. Buffy shook her head, her shoulders drooping sadly but hope suddenly sparking to life in her eyes.

“Maybe I should go find him and talk?” she suggested eagerly. As soon as Willow opened her mouth to reply, Buffy was blowing her kisses in the air and grabbing her coat. “Meet you back at the house,” she called and then the Slayer was gone.

“That’s the Buffy I remember from years ago,” Oz reminisced, and then he peered into Willow’s eyes, suddenly overwhelmed to have a Willow he also recognised from more carefree days sitting right in front of him. “So tell me your story.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was damned inconvenient.

Will paced back and forth in the living room, reeling in the impulse he had to kick the coffee table to splinters every time he passed it or burying his fist in the sheetrock.

They’d all buggered off and left him. While he was used to being alone these days, he’d never thought he’d feel so useless and ignored when in a house meant to be sheltering four others. He’d never thought Bu…Liz would let him out of her sight without a proper explanation on what he was doing here.

Her lack of interest in him was pissing him off. He was fighting depression at her apathy and the best way for him to do it was to get angry. They had a rogue witch on the run who could blast them to ash in a twitch of her evil finger and all his partners in this fight were off shimmying at the Bronze or sleeping off their death wish.

Well, he was tired of it. It was about time someone else took on a little of the concern he’d been ripped apart with for the past few days. He was mentally exhausted and would it bloody kill the ungrateful bint to give him a good look at her?

He was steadfastly ignoring the guilt that rushed through him and screamed ‘Boo’ every time he imagined the revulsion on her face when he revealed who he truly was. Yeah, he was a gutless wanker, but what was a vamp to do in a situation like this? Wasn’t like the Powers That Are Off Their Fucking Nutter handed him a ‘How To’ book about revealing himself to the Slayer.

Well, wasn’t the first time he’d taken his life into his hands. With a stance fuelled by irritation and impatience, Will stomped up the stairs and only momentarily stalled outside Liz’s bedroom door. With a good shove the door cracked against the wall and the Slayer sprung up, clasping her coverings to her breasts.

“Up and at ‘em, Slayer. No time for sleeping when there’s an out of control witch on the loose.” He stepped closer, ignoring the flushed red fury on her face as he realised her shoulders were bare. “Are you naked under there?” he asked hopefully, tilting his head to the side in hopes of angling a better look.

The ‘pissed off’ look suited her, Will decided with a chuckle. No wonder he’d fallen for the brat as soon as he’d laid his demon eyes on her. The girl almost vibrated with energy—even when abruptly torn from sleep—and he just loved what it did for her. The heaving chest, the flashing eyes, that unique slayer musk that made his mouth water. She was a cruel wench, that was for bleeding certain.

“You are seriously risking all your parts by coming in here,” she spat and Will had never seen her look more glorious.

Desire so strong hit him in the gut and almost winded him. This was a dream come true—and he should know, he’d strained through many of them while he’d been getting to know her better through the talisman. All he needed was for the sheet to lower just a little and he’d be a drooling lump of goo and the Slayer wouldn’t have any trouble at all dusting his incoherent ass.

And dusting him would likely get her killed. Now was not the time for this. While he wanted her with everything Satan had ever promised, he had to get his mind out of the gutter and back on the disaster at hand.

“Look, we need to do something, right? I’m going barmy waiting down there for someone to invent a grand plan. We’re sitting ducks unless someone gets some bloody initiative. The other witch is too upset about being the double of our little blessing of insanity to do any good right now. We need to find the witch and we need to obliterate her before she does us. Think you could drag your stunning ass out of that bed and be useful?”

Liz blinked sleepily, sluggishly replaying everything the vampire had just bombarded her with. “Did you just say I have a stunning ass?”

Will snorted. “Like you didn’t bloody well know it. Now I’ll just stand here and wait while you get up.” He leered as she looked about to stand and drop the sheet, but sense clicked in at the most inappropriate times and she threw the nearest thing at his head. Her clock hit the wall behind him and left a dent in the plaster. “Fine, I’ll go. Selfish bint,” he groused, but shut the door behind him and leapt down the staircase, a smile forming on his lips.

At least now he had a buddy to pace with.

Chapter Thirteen

Willow was so hungry she was nauseous. Having awakened in the depths of night by something as unscary as an owl in the Harris’s backyard, her stomach all but roared at her. Feeling shaky with fatigue, she pushed herself up and tried to see through the surrounding darkness. Knowing Xander, he’d have stuffed some kind of snack food into the corners of his new home; she just had to be sniffer-witch and find it. And the prospect of eating seriously stale chips did nothing to dull her stomach’s need for something to fill it.

Her legs shook as she levered herself from the bed. There was a lamp somewhere, and she found it as soon as she bumped against the bedside table and it went shattering to the cement floor.

“Crap!”

Not that she needed it. What use was man-made electricity when she could light up the stars with just a word passed through her lips?

Her brain felt fuzzy, but still something niggled through and she sighed in relief as a small thumb-sized ball of light appeared before her eyes. So, maybe not the stars tonight. She still was too weak to do much more than sleep. Too weak to indulge her thirst for carnage.

A memory of a long ago Saturday afternoon rolled into her mind and Willow cringed as she replayed a Twinkie battle to the death upstairs in Xander’s old bedroom. His parents had been gone for the weekend and she’d pinned all her hopes on some self-realisation by her friend and her much-anticipated first kiss. She’d been handed soda and snacks and they’d had a fun time watching all of their favourite movies, but smoochies had never been on the cards. It made her angry now. If he’d had less rocks in his head and given her a chance, he wouldn’t have been at the mercy of Faith. God, he could have picked her and yet he’d always turned to the dangerous women.

Allowing just that one small memory to possess her made Willow feel more tired than before. She quickly found a bag of chips and dragged it back to the bed, barely getting there before her body collapsed on the old mattress. She’d have to go out later and get something a little more fulfilling and nutritious—and not to mention fresh, she thought with a cringe of distaste. But at least her tummy had stopped objecting.

Before she’d consumed half the bag exhaustion reclaimed her, eyes drifting closed once again on the world.

Her last thought was of her ex-friend’s betrayal. It would serve to fuel her dreams through the rest of the night until morning blessed her with a return to consciousness.

The bag fell to the side and a handful of chips fell over the bedspread. They’d be crumbled by morning.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Buffy finally caught up to Spike at their cemetery—or his, which was closer to the truth of it.

“Hey! You must have run all the way here,” she puffed as she drew in alongside him.

“Yeah. Thought I could do with some fresh air,” he admitted.

“But you don’t breathe,” Buffy teased, her arms spontaneously circling his waist as her head found the natural indent between his chest and shoulder.

“True,” he admitted and Buffy could recognise the smirk in his voice without even needing to look at his face.

“So you were just taking a run down memory lane?” she asked, tipping her head back so she could look into his eyes and remind herself of how beautiful the shade was.

“Yeah. Been a while since I’ve seen the crypt. Kind of missed it, you know?”

The sadness was crushing in on her again. She felt like an aluminium can, memories and regrets slamming into her on every side. “Yeah, I do. I missed it too.” And then, before her courage disappeared and they stayed locked in this emotional limbo forever, “I missed you more.”

Spike stopped walking and Buffy held her breath. This was the moment she’d been terrified of, ever since it occurred to her there’d be more moments after the initial reunion—if they’d both made it out of the fight alive.

“I’m sorry, Buffy.”

That was all he said, and she was left puzzled about what in particular he was apologising for. Was he showing his regret at not believing her declaration during their last seconds together? Or was he apologising for dying on her? Or was it merely that he’d not returned or not even called to let her know he was back? Did he know how hard she’d grieved? Had he finally realised he’d torn her heart out as well as disintegrating the Hellmouth?

“Sorrys aren’t enough, Spike,” she whispered, half-terrified she’d say the wrong thing and everything she wished for would suddenly blow up in her face, leaving her cold and alone once again.

“I know that,” he admitted, his blue eyes burning as he searched her soul. “But it’s a start, yeah? I did the wrong thing, but don’t I always? Not that I’m trying to make excuses for not calling you. There is no excuse—only fear. And as surprising as it is, I had a boat load of that. And guilt. Heard about Anya from the boy.” He ducked his head and Buffy saw the glistening tear that had formed in his eye, and while the jealousy in her rose up and howled, she couldn’t deny that the loss had been devastating—even if it had surprised the heck out of them all.

“It’s been a difficult year for everybody. Well, except maybe Dawn. She’s been having a blast running rings around Giles, being all secretive girl behind his back. He thinks he’s the Head of the Council, but I think Dawn knows more about that place than he does.” Buffy took a step forward and almost collapsed in relief that Spike followed. For some reason keeping movement going while she was trying to untangle her thoughts was much more of the helpful. “I can’t forgive you for not calling me when you got back,” Buffy decided. “Not yet anyway. It hurt to lose you, and to find out you were here almost the whole time and chose to stay with Angel over getting in touch with me? I don’t understand it. I don’t think there’s anything you could even say that could clear that up for me, and I’m half convinced you shouldn’t even try.”

Spike stilled again but they’d finally reached his crypt and Buffy didn’t want a confrontation out in the open. She wanted to see the place that had been a haven more often than her own home had been. She wanted to see what she’d destroyed when she’d bombed the vampire’s very own basement. She wanted to reclaim all the cobwebs and shadows and she wanted to lament the loss of this place that had been so unlikely in its delivery of comfort.

“Shouldn’t try to make you understand why I was such a cowardly bastard? Not that I think you’d have trouble with that concept exactly. Or do you think I shouldn’t try to…to get you back?” His voice boomed in this strangely empty room and Buffy winced. There was panic there, she recognised, but also a strangely familiar sense of acceptance. All those little intimacies—the kisses and the looks—hadn’t penetrated his thick skull after all. He still thought they had to fight to get to the place they’d almost reached before he’d gone up in a blaze of sunlight.

Buffy snorted. The idiot still didn’t realise they’d already surpassed that. As far as she was concerned, they were a done deal and God help anyone who tried to make the situation otherwise.

Oh well, actions always did speak louder than words to Spike.

In a move too casual to be misconstrued, Buffy tossed her battered black leather crop jacket onto the sarcophagus, doing a silent cheer as she watched Spike’s gaze trail its progress. He missed the quick unbuttoning of her shirt, but his eyes bugged as he saw it drift down to land perfectly on top of the jacket.

“Buffy?” He turned in time to catch her breasts fall from the lace cups of her bra, and that scrap of fabric quickly joined its companions on the cement block.

“Yes, Spike?”

The floor was dusty, but Buffy was resolved—not to mention desperate to feel his flesh against hers once again—and screwed up her nose delicately as she toed off her boots and kicked them to land with a thud in the general direction of her clothes.

“What are you doing, pet?” His voice was rough and raw and it sent every breed of tingle down Buffy’s spine. God, these memories were beyond good and she sighed in anticipated pleasure as her pants fell open at the clasp and she pushed them down her legs.

“Seizing the moment, Spike. You know, it’s kind of cold in here.” It was one detail that was too bizarre for her to have forgotten, but the chill of the crypt had definitely slipped her mind. She’d never had the chance to feel it when she’d been here, despite so often being naked.

“Hard to heat a room made out of stone.” He seemed stunned. His eyes zeroed in on tight, rosebud nipples and felt his palms itch to cup them.

“See anything you like?” Buffy asked sweetly, slowly inching her panties down her hips and allowing them to pool at her bare feet. Her heart was thudding madly in her chest and despite the cold, a volcano of heat was rushing through her veins and sparking every nerve to life.

“Buffy, I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” he admitted, and like the big jerk he was, he tried not to look and actually took a step backwards. “This isn’t what you wanted back in SunnyD. Remember that last night? All you wanted back then was to be held. You should get dressed, luv, and we’ll talk about this, yeah?”

Buffy pouted. “No.” She couldn’t believe she was going to have to pound some sense into him while she stood shivering and naked in a hopefully uninhabited crypt. She probably should have thought earlier to check for signs of this being someone’s home. Oh well. “I did want this, you big…poop head. I can’t believe you’re being all chivalrous and…and idiotic. You idiot. I’ve done nothing but regret not telling you I love you earlier than I did. I want to feel you naked against me again. I want you, you big dope. Now stop being stupid and strip.”

God, was she being too forceful? She was. Crap. He was gaping at her and Buffy felt like slapping herself for sucking so badly with expressing herself. A whole year talking to a grief therapist had done nothing to help her make herself speak sensibly and chronologically.

And then his duster went flying and Buffy was laughing, running to him as he tore his clothes off and tossed away his boots. Her mouth found his in a crash so sublime she almost wept. Tears bathed her cheeks as he finally kissed her in the way of old—hard, passionate, a kiss meant to imprint ownership in a way that no other ever could. It was a kiss from a man and Buffy realised with a start that no one had ever touched her lips like this—and no one ever would.

“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth, her eyes glistening as she caught hold of his, demanding he see the truth of it for real and daring him to refute it again to her face.

“Buffy,” he breathed and she relished in the return of that awed look he always gave her when something so monumental occurred. She felt like she deserved it now—felt like she knew what to do with devotion that limitless. The days of uncertainty had been burnt away with the fire of a Hellmouth sinking to its final home and Buffy hugged him closer, finding her lips against his throat and giving in to the desire to nibble his flesh. Tasting him on her tongue made it all so real. Made him hers and she was never letting him walk away from her again.

“Make love to me?” Her hands skimmed his flanks, hoping that she could waylay any talk of waiting by renewing his association with her flesh—with her touch. Not that he’d had much knowledge of it. All their time together had been centred on what his fingers, teeth and tongue had been able to do for her. Showing a mutual desire to explore him would have been dangerous and Buffy had always controlled the urge with the steely determination of a slayer punishing herself for being weak. Letting him touch her had been the worst thing she’d thought she’d ever done. In reality, the cruelty had been in not touching him back. Just as cruel to her as it had been to him. If she’d touched him, maybe she could have known the truth between them before she’d thrust him out of her life.

Though she’d already asked, his expression begged her for permission and once given, Spike reared against her, his mouth going in for the kill as he tried to consume all of her at once. “I will cherish you for as long as we have, Buffy,” he breathed against her breast, defying her to lose concentration as he gently sucked a tight nipple between his teeth and worried it to the point of aching.

“We have forever, Spike.”

And then there was nothing left for words. Words were a cheap alternative when his body spoke so eloquently and hers received his touch more happily than ears.

Her skin was hot to the touch and her heart hammered within her chest. Spike swept his tongue across the burning nipple and hesitated about moving onto the next. Buffy curled her fingers into his hair and lifted his head up to receive her lips instead, and as she felt his tongue thrust its way into her mouth, his hands curved around behind her knees and he hoisted her up, her legs scissoring around his waist in the way they both loved. Her hot centre rested against his abs and Buffy sighed into his mouth as the rest of her body melted against him. The tip of his cock nudged against the cleft of her ass and Buffy moaned and writhed in need.

Pulling her crotch away from his belly, Spike tipped himself up and speared into the wet, burning part of her flesh that would suck him in like a favoured lollypop. He didn’t even have to move, Buffy bearing down on him until he slid all the way in, stretching her wide and igniting every nerve ending on her flesh.

“God, Buffy, my imagination never came close to knowing how good you feel.”

As far as she was concerned, neither of them would need to rely on imagination again. There was nothing better than feeling the man you loved inside your body, prodding every hidden place that no one had ever bothered to find. Nibbling on his lips, Buffy finally initiated a rhythm, her hooked legs enabling her to push up until he was bulging at her entrance, and then slowly encase him again, revelling in the way her body never rejected him—always welcomed him in deeper than the last. He brought her body to life, and made her question every mistake she’d made since knowing him.

“I love you,” she told him again, and as she felt the first powerful clench of her muscles and his answering pulse inside her, Buffy hoped this perfect moment would never end.

“Sweetheart, you know I love you. I always will.” And together they explored a galaxy of stars that were glitteringly familiar—no matter which world they created them in.

Chapter Fourteen

Looking dishevelled and as if dusting a vampire in her living room was her greatest wish, Liz glared at Will and tapped her foot. “This had so better be good, because I’m not in the mood for any more crap tonight.”

Arching a perfectly scarred brow, Will wondered what she’d do if he pounced on her and kissed her hard enough to make her forget her name—both old and newly attributed. “And what crap would that be? You were out for most of the show.”

Liz turned away and walked into the kitchen. If there was one thing she was not going to share with all the new players in Sunnydale, it was her special connection with one apparently hiding, secret friend. Especially when she didn’t know his name or whereabouts. People would think she was crazy, but if Will knew, well, he’d make fun of her and wear her down with the evil lashings of his tongue. No! No evil tongues, lashing or otherwise. That way lay images with which she’d much prefer to never sully her brain.

“Things have been intense and I needed some space, not that I need to explain myself to you.” Having him around her was playing havoc with her commonsense. She kept turning her back on a notorious vampire—one with an enviable reputation for killing slayers—and not only had she allowed him to retain access to her home, she’d somehow adopted him with the impromptu sleepover.

“Yeah, been right intense around here too. ‘Spike,’” he emphasised with dramatic air-quotes and a cringe of distaste on his lips, “is a bloody wanker. Who does he think he is, taking dibs on my name?”

Liz giggled. The thought of Will cursing himself tickled her silly.

“Oh don’t tell me you just love the little fluffy-Buffy. She’s nauseating.” He made as if to stick his fingers down his throat and Liz slapped at his arm. She felt infuriated all of a sudden, and not all of it was due to Will’s lack of taste in belittling what was essentially her.

“She’s nauseatingly in love, you mean. And with you.” There was no controlling the shudder of revulsion that hurtled through her body.

“Oi! Watch what you’re knocking.” Will jutted out his jaw and glared at her, his hands furiously sweeping aside his duster so he could clasp each hip bone with agitated fingers.

“I don’t see the problem in knocking something I’d rather stab my eyeballs out than sample,” Buffy retorted hotly. If there was one thing of which she was convinced, it was that any sickly sweet overtures between her and this vampire were never going to happen. Her stomach was turning just at having him this close to her.

“You infuriatingly ungrateful bitch,” Will spat, his eyes glittering golden as hurt and indignation battled each other for dominance. He’d never wanted to rip her throat out more than at this precise moment. Being rejected had that affect on a bloke, and Will was beyond pissed at how pig-headed the love of his life was turning out to be. Take his face and name away and she was a right cuddly kitten, wanting to crawl into him sight unseen. But actually standing with him, face-to-face, and she wanted to stake him faster than…

“Ungrateful?” she screeched, stepping closer. “I’m supposed to be grateful you saved me from that other dimension?”

Will blinked. “Well, yeah.”

“News flash, Romeo. You grabbed the wrong Buffy, and not only did you not save me, you’ve created a whole world of other issues that need fixing. My Willow might not have been bent on killing me the second I arrived home if it wasn’t for your cowboy act of lassoing her up like a prize calf. I might have actually had time to think of something, but nooooo, unsouled SPIKE had to ride on in to the rescue.” She stopped to take a breath, and then blinked stupidly for a few seconds. “And what’s with that? You do remember you’re a vampire, right?” And then memory slid in and she gasped in shock. “Oh God, how could I have forgotten?” Eyes turned steely and murderous. “Where is she?”

Will’s turn to appear stupid. This conversation had torn around so many racetracks he felt bleeding well dizzy. “What?”

“Your ho. Where is she?” Liz was shaking, reaction from everything that had happened since the afternoon making her internal resources clash with themselves and she wondered if she was heading toward a break down.

“I don’t have a bloody clue where Dru is and haven’t for the past year. Your guess is as good as mine.” His expression was rife with unhidden hurt and Liz stood confused, then jumped as he turned abruptly and stomped away from her.

“Where are you going?” she asked in a small voice.

Barely stopping, he tossed over his shoulder, “As riveting as this conversation is, there’s a witch that needs finding. You can stay there feeling sorry for yourself, but I’m off. If I don’t make it back, you know she set me on fire, or performed some other equally deadly to vampires trick.”

The thought made her pause.

“Maybe…I should go with you?” Liz asked in a small, confused voice.

“Your funeral,” was the reply and the continual talk of death just made her insides shrivel up more. Still, he had tried to help her, and she was being ungrateful to not even be a little lenient toward him.

“Thanks,” she muttered and almost slammed into a hard, leather-clad back as Will stopped in shock.

“What was that?” He couldn’t stop the smile blooming on his lips if he’d tried, and with his back still to her, he didn’t even attempt it.

“For trying to save me. That was…thanks.”

No point in drawing out the obviously painful, he thought with a grin. “Don’t mention it.”

Liz rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at his back. That will be so much easier than you think, Bleach Boy.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Are you sure you can’t think of anywhere else she might be holed up?” Will asked with a huff. They’d been all over Sunnydale, and other than bumping into the other Willow walking to Oz’s van with the plan of returning back to Revello Drive much more mellowed out than when she’d left earlier, they’d come up with nothing.

“We’ve been to the magic high school library. She has no friends that I know of. We really don’t confide in each other anymore,” Liz admitted, both annoyed that she had to be hunting down a girl that was once closer to her than any friend ever had been, and irritation that Will just wouldn’t get lost. She wouldn’t lament his disappearance in the slightest.

“Well, what about the bone yards? Think she might have gone to visit some graves and then maybe bunk down in an empty crypt?”

Liz eyed him sceptically. “I guess it’s a possibility, but I somehow doubt it. Willow likes her creature comforts.”

Will leered. “Or maybe she just likes her creatures?”

“Ewwwwww!” Liz exclaimed in disgust. “Could you be any more of a pig?” She stomped off, determined to not see him again if she couldn’t get rid of him. He complied with her silent wish and stayed behind her, and it was all she could do to admit she hoped he wasn’t checking out her supposedly stunning ass.

Twenty minutes later and they’d reached Restfield Cemetery. It didn’t take too long to search the available crypts, taking out a vampire or two while she was at it. On one occasion she’d even accidentally turned and found Will tussling with one of his own kind before he buried a wooden stake in its chest and was consequently covered in the exploding dust. He brushed himself off and looked up to find Liz staring at him with her mouth gaping open.

“What was that?”

Will sighed. “What did it bloody look like? Knitting scarves?”

“You killed a vampire.” And then another reality occurred to her. “And you’re actively not killing me. What gives?”

The continual low expectations of him was really beginning to grate on his nerves. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, little girl.” He swept past her and took the lead, stopping suddenly at the next crypt and uncharacteristically waiting for her to precede him closer toward it. The unmistakable sounds of sex emanated from the partially open door and Will grinned cockily.

Liz got to the door and had her foot ready to smash it open when she caught the sound of her own voice moaning. A hand drifted up to cover her mouth so she wouldn’t scream and she quickly turned and slammed her back against the wall beside the door. “Oh God,” she whispered frantically. Her eyes clashed with Will’s and she shuddered violently, sickness rising up in her belly until she was sure she was turning green.

Two strong hands suddenly slammed against the stone wall on either side of her head and Liz jumped a foot in the air in shock. She couldn’t move. She wanted to slam her knee into his groin and run hard and fast from this surreal episode of a monster drama, but her limbs were frozen stiff.

“Oh Spike,” she heard, and flushed hotly at the raw passion she barely recognised in the voice. “Harder. Please…want you…deeper. So good, baby.”

Oh God, they’re having sex. I’m having sex with Spike. This is so wrong.

Molten blue eyes penetrated her soul as he imprisoned her against the wall. Will had a look in his eye she couldn’t comprehend, but her skin felt tight and hot as the sounds of enthusiastic sex from inside surrounded her. Liz felt claustrophobic as Will moved closer, the leather of his sleeves brushing against her shoulders as his chest just barely made contact with her breasts.

She felt sick, and yet her nipples had frozen into hard little pebbles, straining for an unfamiliar touch.

“Buffy, you’re so warm around me. Ugh. Squeeze me like that again, gorgeous.”

Liz knew the second Buffy did it, her own vaginal muscles synchronised as Will thrust his hips at her. A scream formed in her throat and her mouth opened to release it into the night air when his lips slammed down on hers, shocking her into silence.

His lips were softer than she’d expected. She didn’t know why she thought they’d be less life-like than Angel’s had been, but she had. He tasted bitter, but not in a revolting way, and his technique was a whole lot more gentle than his approach so far had been. For a snapshot of time, Liz could see the appeal the other Buffy had felt for her Spike, but this couldn’t happen for her. As the realisation cleared her head, she moaned softly. Clinging to the first kiss she’d had in years, Liz savoured the sensual massage of his tongue before thrusting him away hard. Panting, she caressed her mouth with a shaking hand, her eyes wide and wary before she took off at a run.

Will watched her from where he’d tripped backwards on a rock in the grass and fell. Regret seared through his chest and he closed his eyes and let his head fall back to the ground. Inside he could hear all the huffing and puffing and he felt envious. In another world he and Buffy were shagging like bunnies and it was just his luck they’d brought it here to brag right in front of his face—and like the stupid, predictable wanker he was, he’d come on too fast with Liz and she’d bolted like a terrified bunny.

But Christ her lips were sweet.

With a giddy grin, Will relaxed in the grass and listened to his double shagging his girl. One day he’d have the balls to tell Liz the truth of who he was, and in his cosy little dream world, she’d lose that prejudice that blighted her view of the world and fling herself into his arms.

He was a bloody poof for believing in happily ever afters.

Chapter Fifteen

Revello Drive

“It’s still not working.” Willow looked down at the map of Sunnydale and felt like crying. Here she was, this supposed super-witch and she couldn’t even locate herself. “I’m so sorry, guys.”

“Hey!” Buffy threw an arm around her friend’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “This isn’t your fault. The other Willow obviously knows how to block a locator spell. No biggie. She’ll mess up eventually.” Then, put off at Willow’s affronted look, she added, “Well, maybe not. But we’ll find her. We have to so we can go home.”

“Right. You got any ideas about that? Because Liz and I scoured Sunnydale and I didn’t get so much as a whiff of ‘er.” Will stood propped against the wall, his arms crossed and his hip jutting out, anger and impatience emanating around him.

The three interlopers shared a concerned look but nobody answered.

“Great. So essentially what you’re telling me is, you’ve got nothing?”

Buffy nodded. “Pretty much.”

In a subdued example of Spike’s well-known temper tantrums, Will humphed and left the room, presumably off to get rid of the bags under his eyes with some sleep.

Buffy turned and looked indulgently at her vampire. He had similar bags from lack of sleep, but instead he was grinning like the cat that licked the canary to a sensual death and who obviously wanted to do it again. She sighed tiredly before moving over to snuggle against his body on the couch. Willow sat forlornly in an armchair, worrying her hands over her ability to achieve nothing.

“So I guess what we need is a plan,” Buffy suggested, though her voice indicated how much of one she didn’t have to share.

“Yup. One of those would be of the good right about now,” interjected Liz as she entered the room, a bowl of cereal in her hands. She looked up and saw Buffy and Spike all cuddly together and went to sit at the desk chair on the opposite side of the room.

“Okay,” started Willow, finally straightening her spine and taking control. “What would Giles do?”

Buffy looked pole-axed. “Oh my God, Giles. And Dawnie. They won’t know where we are.”

Spike waved his hand carelessly in the air, his response nonchalant and totally lacking any concern. “I’m sure Peaches’ll let him know what’s happened. Once they get through flogging the git, they might even mount up a search party. Can you imagine that? The whole Scooby gang vacationing in downtown Sunnyhell.” The thought obviously tickled him pink as he momentarily disappeared into his own imagination.

“You shouldn’t verbalise thoughts like that on the Hellmouth,” Liz warned through a mouthful of cereal. If there was one thing she was well versed on it was that the oddest things sprung into being because of the Hellmouth’s strange twist on reality. Fact was way stranger than fiction in her backyard and Liz was totally over it.

“You’re right,” Spike conceded without argument. “Back to business then,” he stated crisply, and then preceded everyone into a block of thoughtful yet exasperating silence. Several times Buffy leaned forward, her lips parting as if to impart a sudden thought, but then whatever she’d grasped left her and she slumped back into Spike’s comforting arms. After ten minutes both blondes sighed.

“I’ve got nothing,” admitted Buffy, her cheeks pink. It was humiliating to be the senior slayer in this scenario—having been successful through numerous battles—and she couldn’t think of squat to get them through this.

“I guess this is just one of those ‘on-the-run’ plans then?” Willow asked, a fever of excitement returning some slight colour to her face. If there was one thing that animated the witch it was a challenge, and tracking down her evil double was proving to be a real doozy.

“And don’t we just excel with those?” Buffy wasn’t kidding. The big moments were all with the plans, sure, but the lead up to it was totally by the seat of their pants. The adrenaline rush that got them through immensely dangerous situations that probably should have seen them all ending up in a plot in the ground. Except she’d done that and it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

“Well, I guess it’s pretty pointless to try and formulate a plan to find Willow when she’s currently unlocatable.” Liz sat back, her apathy shifting only enough that an intently staring Spike caught it. It made him smile, and sigh in relief for the Spike of this dimension. Will had an uphill battle as it was—whether he informed her of his talisman connection with her or not—and it would be torture to see the poor bloke suffer through what Spike himself was only now putting behind him. And to tell the truth, if Spike had to witness all the angst of what was him and Buffy all over again he’d be hard pushed not to dust either himself or his double.

“So we wait?” Buffy confirmed, then with a swift nod of her head, “We hope that we catch sight of her before she decides to turn us into toads.”

Willow shuddered. As a plan it was obviously lacking—the whole lack of her doppelganger being magically gagged for one—but with her own magic being spectacularly unsuccessful in this instance, there was absolutely nothing that she could do. Or think of to do. Willow had never felt so vulnerable in her life. Whether she continued to live and breathe was totally in the hands of the one person she should have been able to trust with it. However, putting faith in this world’s Willow to do the right thing was as smart as leaving Andrew in charge of the Watcher’s Council with all the world’s slayers and his limited edition Princess Leia costumes at his disposal. Yeah, ‘smart’ didn’t actually figure into that equation in the slightest.

“At least I can put up a protection field around the house. I doubt she’s strong enough to penetrate that. As long as we all stay here for now, we’ll be fine.” She hoped. Gulping hard, Willow avoided all eyes and withdrew into herself. Being the victim of a witch on the edge might have done wonders in helping her cool her jets when she’d gone through it.

Feeling weak and useless wasn’t much of the fun at all.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

They were all bloody useless.

Will lay on the floor of Liz’s room and felt his face deform in rage. How the fuck were they going to get out of this if both slayers were content to wait for the psycho bitch-witch to come to them?

Emotions extreme and from every directions were tying him in knots. On the one hand he wanted to shake Liz till her teeth rattled and her sense made a shocking comeback, but on the other he was terrified out of his mind that Red was going to fly in on her broomstick and banish them all to the pits of Hell. Why the fuck had he waited so long in coming here? Was his fear stronger than his commonsense these days?

Will growled angrily and rolled over, mashing the pillow beneath his cheek with a tense fist. He’d been listening to them all gasbagging downstairs like a seniors group for too many hours to count and he was sick of it. The inaction, the talking in circles—it was driving him out of his skull. The witch had had plenty of time to find a base of operations and to recoup any power she’d expended during her escape and Will just knew they were all waiting for the penny to drop. They should be back out there, right in it, looking for her till the last second before sun was up again. Instead, they cowered behind another witch’s brazen attempts to counter herself. He’d be bloody buggered if he was going to be here when this dimension’s Willow arranged for the sky to fall on the house and flatten them all.

Be fucked if he was going to let Liz offer herself as an apathetic sacrifice to Red’s demented cause.

A chilling realisation had his eyes widening and his gut clenching in horror. They’d all been operating under the assumption that the witch was friendless—that she’d attempted all her plots to kill Liz completely on her own. Where did she get her information? How did she know about each and every ugly that came traipsing across the Sunnydale line, sending Buf…Liz into the line of fire almost on a nightly basis?

Fuck they were stupid. She obviously had to get her knowledge from somewhere. There was someone in this pissant town that still knew Red, and thus someone she’d probably chance contacting before turning them into fish food became her priority. A bitch like her would need to feel secure before she launched an all out offensive against her enemies, not to mention she loved this world she was attempting to tyrannise. She was going to work out how to kill Buffy, Spike and her doppelganger without sucking her own world into the realm of extinct dimensions.

Will winced. Christ they were screwed.

Sleep was out of the question now. He had a lead and he couldn’t let his body rest when his brain was on overdrive. Tossing the thin blanket Liz had unwillingly allowed him onto the bed, Will bounced to his feet and reached for his coat. The security of the soft leather was sorely needed—now more than ever—and it was with relief that he tugged on his boots and shrugged on his coat, allowing the Big Bad to fill his senses and give him the strength he needed to get them all out of this.

His body felt too heavy, weighed down by responsibility and fault. He should have arrived in Sunnyhell months ago and forced Liz away from the place. Risked a broken nose and a possible dusting by telling her who he really was but gotten her out of there. In an existence that had seen far more than anything had the right to, Will could admit one thing to himself, and as lonely and small as it made him feel, it also burned him up with warmth. Liz was the only thing that mattered anymore. Everything else he’d had over the years was gone—taken or withdrawn like he’d been a very bad boy. He’d grown to live with it. Accepted it as his due. Until he’d been given hope in the form of a jewel that he kept zealously in his pocket. His motivation may have been twisted in the beginning, but he’d quickly learned to value the chance he’d been given. Being evil had never been enough when it mattered and on the edge of everything was the accusation that he’d always been trying; it had never been natural. He’d killed slayers because Angelus was frightened of them. He’d slaughtered pregnant women because it was Darla’s favoured delicacy. He’d been as wicked as his Princess had required for him to stay favoured at her side. The very second he’d made an error of judgement—and only Drusilla would see saving her life as being a mistake—he was out on his ear, with the burns and lacerations to prove it. So yeah, maybe it was time to stop existing for others and try to do something different with his life.

Maybe it was time to be good.

With his stomach curling around that revelation, Will opened the bedroom window and glanced up at the stars. He was willing to bet that Dru was looking at them this very second, wailing over the distinct loss of her childe. The silly bint had always told him he was made for something special—now it was time for him to discover what.

A final glance over his shoulder at the closed door was all he needed to push him out of the house. They were still bellyachin’ downstairs and the witch was loose in the town. If he didn’t take pains to snuff her out, who the hell would?

He leapt to the ground silently and slipped into the shadows.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“You know we’ve been going about this all wrong,” Spike announced matter-of-factly while he slipped his hands behind his head, his eyelids sore as they stubbornly stayed open.

Silence greeted the statement and he sighed.

“We’ve been completely focused on the witch. Well, she’s been Queen of this town for how long? I doubt she works totally alone. There has to be someone here that she would have run to. Asked for help. Someone in this bloody town knows of Willow Rosenberg and her bid for total bloody control of the minions.” His tone betrayed his exasperation inspired by the hours of talking over their non-plan and helping to reassure the Willow-in-residence that she wasn’t being blamed for anything that this dimension’s Willow had going.

Enlightenment threatened and Spike gloried in having some direction finally. Until Liz opened her mouth and betrayed how completely unaware she’d been of the woman she’d allowed to take over her home.

“There’s phone calls sometimes, but I don’t recognise the voice. Some guy, sort of stilted and commanderish but respectful as well.” She shrugged, already apologising for being useless at sorting out the mystery and Spike rolled his eyes. This girl was like his resurrected Buffy, though she’d not had the benefit of a stint in heaven to make her so lifeless.

“Only one git I know who talks like he’s got a stake up his arse,” Spike prodded, then grinned as recognition made his girl’s and Willow’s eyes gleam in excitement.

The relief was tangible as they shouted the name together.

“Riley!”

Chapter Sixteen

It had probably taken a lot longer for Willow to think of calling Riley Finn than it should have.

Not that it surprised her. Nowadays she saw people as little more than pawns to do her bidding. And having a relationship with Riley was not only a convenience that fed her body, but also a necessity for her to keep up with the goings on in her town. He had the scoop on a surprisingly large amount of the demon activity around them that the rest of the world was amazingly, yet predictably hush hush about, but a tiny little spell would have him babbling all sorts of things. It didn’t hurt that she ensured his preoccupation and descent into the baser emotions by consuming his dick at the same time.

She felt unaccustomed fear walking into The Bronze and it made the energy around her spark dangerously. They’d pay for reducing her to this: scared of her own shadow and reliant on a military man to exact her revenge. Of course the fear would wane eventually, but as much magic as she had at her fingertips it somehow didn’t register as enough against a doubling up of super-powers in her home. And herself. She had no real inkling of how powerful her double was in her own world and Willow had done too much underestimating in this scenario to do it again. At least, not right on the heels of her lucky escape.

Riley was alone, exactly like she’d ordered. He stood at a shadowed table in the corner and Willow released the breath she’d been holding while she’d searched for him. Her back straight, she walked to him, her eyes drawn to the bulky figure leaning hard on the surface of his table as he sucked from a straw. It seemed a completely feminine thing for a soldier hunting demons to do, but the gentleness of the Iowa boy was what had drawn Willow to him in the first place. It just screamed of gullibility and weakness of the mind and as much as she took pleasure in the firm lines of his body, it more than suited her expectations to subsume him to her will whenever the need arose.

“Hey, Willow. Didn’t expect to see you again quite so soon.”

The voice of her old boyfriend had her standing frozen to the spot, her shocked expression falling on his friendly smile. A stab of sharpened pain almost splintered her heart and Willow’s eyes turned black to ward it off. This wasn’t what she wanted—or what she needed. Oz was well in her past—through his own actions rather than her own. He couldn’t do this now, walk up and act like nothing ugly had ever passed between them.

His words shook her but similarly broke the ice encasing her brain. Finally she was making sense out of the situation and it made her ill to realise that a Willow from another world had been enough for him to approach her again. Enough for him to smile at her again.

Her lips twisted sourly and she glared at him, fury whipping up inside her and making her feel like her own hair was sizzling at the roots.

“Fuck you,” she spat furiously and then swept away to Riley, kissing the soldier hard on the lips while curling her responsive body suggestively into his. Riley reacted as expected, his clumsy palm trying to score the reward of her flesh. Caught briefly in the moment of engineered passion, Willow glanced up and found Oz gone. Her disappointment wasn’t so deep that she pushed Riley’s seeking hand away. She knew the deal. She had to put out to get something back, and this time, she was going to be reimbursed big.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Liz blinked at the vision at her front door, and then blinked again. A long time had passed since she’d had Oz on her doorstep and while it renewed a little of the happy flutters having actual friends had given her, it also warned her to be on her guard. Everything she’d known over the past twelve months had been flung none-too-gently out the window.

“Um, hi,” she stumbled. Then she smiled brightly and patted herself on the back for her quick adaptation to even the strangest happenings. “Whatcha doin’?

Oz stared then shook his head, his chest almost bursting with a dry chuckle. “Man, this is weird.” He looked past her shoulder to the appearance of Willow standing in the foyer and he smiled indulgently. “I’ve seen Willow.”

There was an explosion of ‘Oh!’s’ and he was dragged inside.

“Where is she…me…her?” Willow fumbled in confusion, already dragging out her magical paraphernalia to exploit this unexpected lead.

“She was schmaltzing with that TA in Psych. Riley Finn? Looks like they’ve been pretty friendly with each other for a while.”

Buffy and Spike turned to Willow, accusation tinged with a hint of amusement aimed straight at her and the witch’s face crumpled guiltily. She stared hard at the ground, then feeling brave, “Well…in the beginning…there was sparkage,” she defended. Then she utilised the pout and blushed at the combined laughter the admission earned.

“Could have told me that years ago, Wills. Might have saved a whole lot of heartache,” Buffy chided, grinning, then snickered as the witch ‘eeped’ and ran up the stairs.

“He made your heart ache? I thought you didn’t really love the git.” Spike stood detached, arms crossed and jealousy radiating from his tightly wound body.

Buffy rolled her eyes. If there was one thing she could depend on it was an ensouled vampire to always take things the wrong way.

“Of course he did, you dummy. Finding your boyfriend paying vamp whores to suck him dry—no matter how you feel about him—kinda hits a girl where it hurts.”

Spike grumbled about soldier gits never being good enough for his girl and then slumped tiredly into the nearest chair.

“Okay, so now we have something we can work with, right? Now we can formulate a plan?” Despite the words, Buffy could see that Liz was struggling to give a damn.

“Yeah, a whole lot we can work with,” the senior slayer replied dryly. “I completely forgot about Adam and the Initiative.” Then her eyes widened and she clashed with Spike’s horrified gaze. “We should warn Will not to let his guard down.” Spike treated to her a look of adulation for her concern about a soulless vampire and reached out to grab hold of her hand.

Willow stepped from the staircase back into the foyer, her expression worried. “Kinda too late for that. He’s gone.”

“I knew it,” exploded Liz, suddenly the most animated and annoyed she’d been all day.

“Knew what exactly?” inquired Spike, an easily recognisable edge to his voice. Buffy cringed, knowing what was coming and yet helpless to kick the other girl sharing her face before she opened her mouth and betrayed how narrow-minded and clueless she was.

“That he was a no good, stab-in-the-back son-of-a-bitch that I should have staked as soon as I had the chance, not let him go to ‘sleep’ in my room.” She was glaring at Spike, her palm curling around a stake that appeared as if by magic.

“Put it away, little girl,” Spike commanded softly, giving Buffy goosebumps with the masculine power of it.

Liz wavered and resentment burned in her eyes. Finally, she dropped the stake onto the desk. “Fine. But if he comes back and kills us all in our sleep, just listen to me say ‘I told you so.’”

“Sure, luv. If it makes you feel better about being wrong.” He turned to his Buffy, uncertainty suddenly draining him of his confidence. “I’m sure he got sick of us being so namby-pamby about looking for the witch and he’s gone off looking for her alone.”

Buffy nodded and smiled. “With your track record and waiting patiently, I so don’t doubt it.” She squeezed his hand and then allowed the General Buffy façade to slip decisively in place. “I think we can be certain that if Will is out there, he’s going to get caught by the Initiative. Experience kind of implies it,” she said quickly, warding off Spike’s humph of indignation.

“So what?” Liz flopped back down into the desk chair and stared at the ceiling. “Whatever the hell this Initiative thing is you keep mentioning, let them rid the world of another blood-sucker. Saves me the trouble.”

Spike seethed and was one second from exploding out of his comfy chair and biting the clueless bint when Buffy grasped his arm tightly and held him down. “Now, now, Spikey. We can’t all be Enlightened Buffy.”

He shot her a filthy look and sunk back further in his chair.

“Besides, I was never this clueless.” Buffy jumped at Spike’s snort.

“You positive on that, pet? Seem to remember many a clueless Buffy moment.”

“Hey!” she objected, though it was kind of weak even to her own ears.

“Look, you two can have your old married couple spat later. Some of us aren’t going to survive should Willow get whatever she’s looking for before she takes revenge on being blind-sided.”

“Oh ho! So now she cares!” Spike exclaimed sarcastically.

“I care,” objected Liz. “I so do care. But I’m not going to sit here while you two have some argument about things I have no interest in, and frankly, so not clueless.”

Buffy and Spike shared an amused look. “Oh yeah, totally clueless.”

“Fine. Bu—Liz is freaking clueless. She doesn’t trust Will, the bloodthirsty and murderous vampire that has so nicely gained an all season’s pass to her home. Can we move on now?” Her voice was trembling with anger.

“One would have thought you wouldn’t be in such a rush to throw your only mate in this world to the wolves.” A quick look to the side took in an enigmatic Oz. “No offence intended, mate.”

“None taken,” Oz confirmed with a nod.

“Mate? What mate? I so do not have a mate and I don’t want one.” Liz’s eyes were huge.

“You read too many vampire romance novels, luv,” Spike accused with his tongue pushed suggestively to the back of his teeth.

Liz’s eyes swung back and forth between the older girl with her own face and the irritatingly accurate vampire.

“He meant friend. It’s one of those weird British words that don’t make sense. He wasn’t implying sex, though I’d highly recommend it if I were you, which, I am. So bonus! Will is your friend.”

Bulging eyes was enough to advise the room that Liz was screeching toward breakdown point. “Are you people on drugs?” she screamed. “Not only do I have no friends, but a vampire would never be one of them.”

Sick of wasting time but still enthusiastically nurturing the spark of joy that making this slayer eat her words had produced, Spike sprung to his feet and had the younger slayer hauled to her feet with his hand shoved deep into her jean’s pocket. She was so shocked she didn’t move, but she did squeak when his fingers brushed too close to her crotch. Too soon he’d wrapped them around his prize and yanked out her precious talisman.

He opened his hand triumphantly, watching as Liz’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“How dare you!” She snatched the jewel back and hid it deep inside her pocket. The most overwhelming cloud of rage was descending upon her at his audacity. He knew nothing of her, her life or her friends—or complete lack thereof.

Before anyone knew what was happening, her fist shot out and connected brutally with Spike’s nose, a familiar cracking noise filling the stunned silence. As he slammed backward into Buffy, Liz turned on her heel and ran out the door.

Gone.

Chapter Seventeen

There were real moments when the little things touched her. Actually rubbed up against her and melted into her heart. Walking beside the boy she was sleeping with, her hand curled lovingly inside his, Willow wondered when it was that she’d accepted letting go of the majority of these moments. Riley was far from the grand love of her life, and the one that she’d pictured as her happily-ever-after had dumped her the second revenge had gripped her by its savage claws, but he was hers and he loved her. He wasn’t honest with her—but Willow knew he loved her. Riley was simple like that. He loved his folks, he adored his boss, and he slept with girls with whom he planned on spending his life. It made her feel minutely guilty, but in typical Willow-style, she managed to not just shrug it aside but to stick steadfastly to her agenda.

It worked out nicely that her agenda rubbed shoulders so beautifully with Riley’s mission.

She didn’t think Riley even suspected that she knew what he did when he wasn’t dressed super casual and enticing her into bed. When they weren’t having picnics on campus or dancing at the Bronze. She’d been so careful when using magic around him so that he didn’t suspect she was anything but a harmless co-ed happily dating the TA of her favourite Professor. Up until now that had suited her fine—more than fine, it had been perfect. But now she needed the kind of power the Initiative could offer and she wasn’t exactly sure about how to reveal herself to her lover without him freaking out on her. Not that Riley was the freaking out sort.

It was all kinds of romantic that he led her to a recognisable tree just out of sight of the university grounds and turned swiftly to trap her against the trunk. His eyes gleamed with passion and while Willow’s heart picked up an extra beat in anticipation, she wasn’t enjoying his obvious infatuation quite as much as she did when being caught by Buffy wasn’t so fresh on her mind. Still, she submitted to his kiss, knowing more than anything that allowing him to feel cherished would get her the reaction she sought a whole lot better than if she pushed him away.

It wasn’t so hard to do. Riley was a good kisser. He felt nice against her lips and his mouth was warm. Every second he shared with her meant so much to him and that couldn’t fail to touch Willow just a little bit. Couldn’t help but make her wonder if: if Xander hadn’t been torn from her life; if Giles hadn’t been a calculated slaughter that had backfired on the other team badly; if Willow hadn’t sunk within the lure of magic and turned her back on humanity completely. There were so many ‘if’s’ that might have altered her relationship with Riley, and yet even then Willow knew it wasn’t going to last. Riley Finn was a soldier to the last and he would be happier with a girl who understood how that side of him ticked—how any side of him ticked. Willow was too preoccupied in the scenes behind the man to really care.

“Willow?” His lips clung to hers even though it was obvious he wanted to initiate conversation and the redhead was more than happy to delay whatever it was he wanted to ask her. His self-discipline was strong though, and he pulled away from her with a moan, lust still glistening in his eyes.

She felt dazed and a little cheated. His sensual demands were working well to shift the worry from her shoulders and Willow felt a little resentful that he was bringing reality into their interlude so soon.

“Uhuh?” Non-committal was her. Not that it ever worked. The first night she’d slept with him had been motivated by nothing more than a need to feel something—anything to dull the pain that welled up inside her sometimes. Moments like those were rare, but the decision to have Buffy removed from Sunnydale forever—no matter what it would take—hadn’t settled on her conscience half as well as she’d hoped. Still, it was a decision she refused to waver from and seeking solace with a man—any man—had become an urgency and she was ever grateful for the appearance of Riley in her life. Consuming him had given her a renewed focus—had awarded her new power through knowledge he was unaware he’d given her. But it had also caught her heart and the eventual end of what they had, while not love on her part, would still smart when it happened.

“I was hoping you’d come home with me for Spring break? Maybe get to know my family a little bit?” He looked so hopeful and yet all Willow could do was gape.

“Um, to…Iowa?” She said it like it was a place she’d never heard of, never mind wanted to visit. There was no holding back the nervous smile though, because no matter how much she refused to give her heart to Riley, it thrilled her that he wanted her to meet his parents. It was one of those ‘next steps’ in a relationship and it bowled her over that they’d even reached that.

And then it horrified her that she’d be expected to be meek and nice to people as simple as Riley. Oh no, she couldn’t go there. Besides, she had more than a few issues she had to clear up before she could think herself safe to do anything.

“Oh Riley…I…can’t believe you want me to meet your family. That’s so sweet,” she avoided and then jumped into his arms and sucked his tongue insistently between her teeth. He reacted in the way she’d intended—in the way she’d known he would. What man ever knocked back deep kisses with a hot and needy woman unzipping his pants?

He drew back sharply, his eyes wild and chest heaving for breath. “Willow, as much as I love you, I don’t think we should do this here. I’m a TA. I can’t afford to get that kind of a reputation.” He stopped and then singed her with the brightest of his smiles. “I have a free bed though.” He was dragging her away before she had the chance to feel disappointed. As a distraction technique it had done its job and for that Willow was relieved. Hopefully once they reached his room she could tie him up in so many knots he forgot all about his parents and impending trips to states best left to farmers than witches. If she couldn’t then she was obviously doing something monumentally wrong. No guy should be thinking of his mother while a girl was naked and writhing in his lap.

Not that Riley was your typical guy.

Willow grinned as she allowed herself to be tugged back to campus. How could she be sorry? Her body was fired up and ready for action and Riley was going to find a little session of truth was just what the professor ordered.

Two birds, one stone.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Will had traipsed all over Sunnydale and come up with little more than a bad taste in his mouth, and that had come from an unconscious drug addict collapsed outside one of the seedier bars in town. One slurp had been enough to warn him why the unfortunate had been spared his life—exposed on the Hellmouth at night as he was. The git reeked with death, despite his veins still pumping blood sluggishly through his wiry thin body. He was a bit on the nose too and if there was one thing that had the majority of vamps running, it was a lack of hygiene in their human prey. This one was really beginning to pong and Will wondered what he was bloody thinking, not noticing it earlier. He was too preoccupied—too worried about Liz’s inattention and disinterest regarding her own life.

He hadn’t been interested enough to imprint the witch’s scent to memory so now he had a snowball’s chance in Hell of tracking her. Only after two hours of useless wandering was he convinced that he might actually have been better off to go and consult with Liz and her new chums—sniff their witch a little so that he had something to work with. Knowing his bum luck, though, she’d have taken offence and magicked his balls off.

A low growl erupted from his throat, frustration evident in the tightly controlled muscles of his body. He was ready to spring, rip something’s head right off its shoulders and he was getting bloody impatient with waiting. Used to be you could visit the Hellmouth and meet up with all manner of uglies. Now the place felt deserted—almost a ghost town, if you didn’t count the humans. Liz had told him she’d been a busy little slayer lately but he hadn’t thought she’d had this kind of impact.

Eventually Will found himself close to campus, perched on a ledge and guarded heavily by trees, wondering just what it was about humans and the way they made themselves fodder for the enemy by sneaking out on their own for romantic trysts and the like. The next second he was thanking them for the baser impulses making them stupid as a head of thick, auburn hair caught his eye.

“Bingo.” He smirked, crouching low and leering at the vision below him. Little Miss Not-So-Happy was attempting to persuade her boy toy toward the carnal side of things and it looked like she’d been swayed to be a little less bad. It suited her, Spike thought. This bad girl image she’d assumed through adversity. Not that the Too-Scared-Of-Her-Own-Shadow Willow wasn’t a bundle of laughs as well. But this one made it easy to want to kill her whereas the other one made a bloke feel a tad guilty.

“That’s right, little girl. Taunt the Big Bad all you like, because he’s found you now and he’s going to wipe you right off the face of the…Arrrgggghhhh!”

Pain jagged through every nerve in his body and Spike felt his eyeballs bulge out of their sockets. It was the most revolting sensation he’d ever experienced and he didn’t have command over even the smallest muscle to get himself free of whatever had him trapped. But he’d twist himself loose eventually—as soon as the electro shocks that speared through him dulled enough for him to once again feel his fingers and toes.

When he heard the sizzling of the hair on his arms, Will felt panic set in. Pure, unadulterated panic and for a second he wished he’d already told Liz who her talisman buddy was—risked the fallout of telling her he was in love with her—because if that water had already flowed under the bridge then he may have stood a chance of rescue. As it was, she hated him in a manner that didn’t bode well for his survival.

The pain stepped up a notch and Will felt awareness slipping into darkness. His last thought before he hit the ground hard was that at least he hadn’t been bested by the witch. That way lay instant incineration. At least this way he had the time to close his eyes.

And close them he did.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It isn’t true.

The darkness echoed around her in agreement with her denial, and yet it was dishonest with its sincerity. Liz felt the changes vibrate around her and wondered how she’d been so blind—and how stupid.

For two hours she’d been sitting frozen on her hill, shivering in reaction to Spike’s coldly delivered bombshell, begging for a non-communicative non-Spike person to answer her call. She’d begged him to tell her he wasn’t a vampire—that he wasn’t someone who’d once vowed to kill her as a playful pastime of his eternity. The lack of replies had not only been quiet, they’d been deafeningly so in a way she couldn’t ignore. Someone was refusing to answer her—or they couldn’t, and as she’d found Willow hadn’t decimated him on his arrival the last time they’d chatted through the talisman, Liz rather accepted this non-response to be from temper more than destruction.

Dammit! Why won’t you just tell me? If you’re Spike, say so. If you aren’t, put me out of my misery. Please?

The tears that flowed in careless ribbons down her cheeks made her angry. Made her furious for trusting in an unsighted friend. God, why had she been so stupid? Why had she taken a jewel from the Powers and put all her heartache into the relationship it gifted her? And more so—she’d flirted. She’d felt a depth of connection that should have been enough to refute the possibility of it being with Will.

But everything made too much sense now with his face filling in the year long blank.

It doesn’t matter, she denied hotly—bravely. It doesn’t matter to me who you are.

She paused, emotions swirling at a terrific pace in her heart.

Because no matter what you are or who you are, you’ll always be a vampire. And vampires? I slay.

Chapter Eighteen

He was pulled groggily from the darkness by her voice, pleading, begging him to be someone other than who he was, and then he was slammed back into hopelessness with her last vitriolic declaration. The past year’s confidences were flung away as if nothing had happened and he could see the playing field now through her expectations. A slayer and a vampire—nothing important except for the predictable fight ending with one of their deaths.

It brought a tear to one dried eye and while his body screamed at him for its recent abuse, he let it slide back into his hair without a move to wipe it away.

His head hurt.

No, that wasn’t anywhere near close to the pounding, drilling pain he experienced ripping through his skull. It didn’t hurt—it bloody agonised over the decision to explode. And through it all was the pain that once again he was unloved, discarded as a thing of little value and the injustice of it all nearly ripped his chest apart.

The futility of his existence slammed him hard between the eyes and Will could have wept. Beneath all his assertions that it didn’t matter if Liz never loved him so long as he could be there for her and help her through the loneliness of being who she was, that her heart continuing its steady beat would be more than enough for him, it was little more than a devastating lie he had conned himself with. He could never be happy without her love—as a creature of the world’s making, he couldn’t exist without it. Maybe if he’d been Angelus he could exist alongside others with nothing but the sadistic pleasures of ruined flesh—but he wasn’t Angelus.

He wasn’t Angelus and he’d never really even come close.

Will had thought that, at the very least, Liz would come to value the friendship they’d struck up over the past year. He hadn’t expected her to welcome him with open arms. Then again, he hadn’t expected her to find out his identity from anyone else but him. He thought he’d prepared himself well for the heartbreak of her hate, but the daydreams had tricked him into truly believing in requited love.

The truth had ruined all his strength, torn him into useless shreds of the man he’d been behind the face of a demon. He was weaker than he had ever been and Will felt next to pathetic. He had no will to get up and save himself—where would he go if he managed to escape? What had been done to him and how easily could they track him if he actually broke free of this place?

He had no one to blame but himself for this less-than-favourable turn of events. Buffy and Spike had tried their best to warn him and he’d fobbed them off, thinking he knew better than two beings who obviously had a few more years experience of his changing nature under their proverbial belt. He’d been a git, sure enough. And now he was jailed in a cell of bloody Perspex with no way in or out, a monkey on display without even a peanut thrown his way.

A blood bag fell innocuously from the ceiling and his stomach rumbled at the vision of red. Mouth dry as chalk, he felt like he could feed for a week, if he found the right donor for his meal. Will nearly crawled to the packet and ripped it open with his teeth, poised to sink in his fangs and gulp down the sustenance when a warning had trembled from the lips of one of the unseen inmates on the other side of his wall.

His prison was complete—drugged blood on tap.

Not only had they taken his freedom, rolled him into some observation cage like he was nothing more than a rodent that could do a few tricks, but they’d even taken away the certainty of being fed. Will roared his fury; hurt and fear clashed violently within him and he had a bit of trouble trying to focus. He had to get out of there. He had no clue what these people were about, but with the spectacular view of demons upon demons opposite him as far as the eye could see, he wasn’t betting it was for the good of puppies and Christmas.

It certainly wasn’t for the good of him.

He needed a plan—one he could navigate through by the end of the day so it didn’t bugger up. Rudiments of one assembled in his mind and Will set to waiting for his opportunity. It’d come. It was the only thing of which he was certain; hoping to speed it along, he laid out on the floor as if unconscious.



~ * ~ * ~ * ~


Buffy rolled her eyes at the sobbing, broken vision of herself. Liz was sprawled defeated on a hill and clutching the sparkly pendant when she should be combining forces with them to save Will. The vampire had been missing all day and it really hadn’t taken much for Buffy and Spike to realise he’d been captured by the Initiative. Owing to Spike’s vivid experiences under the experimentation of Professor Walsh, they didn’t hold much hope that Will wasn’t already chipped. In fact, by current calculations, he should be waking up in a cold white cell, about to suck up some drugged blood from a sterile packet before the weak voice of a terrified inmate warned him off it.

“God, I am so predictable,” Buffy relished, eyeing the stirring form of her younger self as Liz sat up finally, a torn look of defiance on her face. “I knew I’d find you here.”

“Did you follow me?” Liz accused angrily, swabbing her tears from her cheeks with an agitated hand.

“As if I needed to,” Buffy refuted sweetly. “I’m you, remember? Didn’t need to do anything but wonder where I’d go if I had a mystical link to a super hottie with bleached hair and fangs. Alone time is definitely underrated,” Buffy quipped, smiling pleasantly as Liz’s expression clouded further.

“If I’d known this talisman bound me to a vampire there’s no way I would have ever used it,” Liz denied hotly, the blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Buffy agreed before walking up the incline and taking a spot next to Liz, looking out at the not-so-scenic view of trees and Hellmouth. “If it makes you feel any better, I’d have staked him as soon as I found out. No questions asked.”

The grin of justification burst onto Liz’s face and her body relaxed.

“But I’d be wrong.”

The frown heralded the sudden cool in the air and Buffy sighed, flopping back in the grass and staring up at the canopy of stars high above her. “There’s no way in Hell that I would have given Spike the time of day back in the early days. The only thing I wanted from him then was a jar of his ashes that I could display as a trophy in my room.” Sadness crept into her smile and Liz looked on in horror as the obvious love the senior slayer held for the vampire leached into the air around them and made her shiver. Her gaze abruptly fell from the sky and turned to the shining talisman Liz still gripped in her hand. “Not that this ever happened between us. I think things went kinda differently in my world, but one thing looks like it’s shaping up the same.”

Liz’s eyes almost glowed in the light from the dimmed moon as she waited nervously for Buffy to continue. Without being told she knew that the thing that was developing the same in her world was this connection between the vampire and the blonde slayer and the thought made her stomach roil in objection. It was wrong to have a link with the vampire; for the life of her she couldn’t work out what the Powers were thinking by instigating it in the first place. She was furious at the position they’d put her in and the mess they’d created for her—and blindsided by the untarnished truth of who she’d been fantasising about for the past six months at least.

“Spike loved me for a long time before I finally got the memo.” Buffy’s shining eyes bore down hard on Liz and she waited for the girl who was a younger, more stubborn version of herself to lose a little of the defiance before she continued. “I never gave him the chance with me he needed—and then he was dead. After three years of him professing to love me, of supporting me when no one else really did, of fighting on my side whether it made sense to him or not, I finally realised that what I felt for him was a lot deeper than respect. I’d ignored the way he made me feel for so long that it became a habit. Feeling tight all over and all mushy inside became my natural state and not once did my little Buffy brain realise that what I felt was a whole lot more than reluctant friendship. When I finally admitted it to myself, he was standing in the Hellmouth and looking so beautiful as he burned up from the inside and saved the world.”

Liz was alarmed at the sheen of tears that turned into perfect little drops as they slid gracefully from beneath Buffy’s lids.

“For almost a year I grieved for him, hating myself for being so stupid. And then I found out he was back and living in LA with Angel, all without one single word to me about it.” There was no condemnation in her voice; if there was one thing Buffy had learned during her romantic solitude, it was that there were many reasons behind everything and that she just didn’t have the heart to blame Spike for even one more tiny thing—even if concealing his return from her constituted a thing loads bigger than tiny.

“My point is, Will’s been your friend and look, he came here to save you. He’s a vampire, sure, but he’s going against his nature because he has feelings for you. Don’t be stupid like I was. Actually give him a chance to show you who he can be. You might be surprised at what you see.” Buffy winked and then jumped to her feet, swiping the ground from her ass with her hands as she quickly looked around. Liz watched her with her mouth hanging open and the talisman burning a hole in her palm. “Besides, he’s pretty much chipped now and couldn’t hurt you even if you bug the crap out of him. Which you do, but he loves you for it anyway. Or, I assume he does. Maybe he doesn’t love you, but I think that’s probably a long shot—otherwise he would have already bragged about hearing all your troubles for a year, really rubbed it in your face. Oh, and he might have been more on your Willow’s side when it came to it, instead of trying to protect you as soon as he got you home.”

Liz blushed. She didn’t like to think of what he’d done for her, but maybe she should. If he’d been anyone else—any thing else, she’d have showered them in her gratitude. It had taken a Herculean effort just to summon up the words to thank him.

“I…I can’t…”

“Fall for a soulless creature of the night?” Buffy guessed with perfect insight.

“It’s wrong,” Liz hissed impatiently. This entire conversation was pointless. She killed vampires, she didn’t make-out with them. A healing memory of Angel flashed into her mind and Liz gulped. Well, she had no leg to stand on if she denied there was an attraction—or had once been. Will was okay-looking at least.

“Oh come on, okay-looking? I may have hated Spike with everything I was back then but I was never blind. Spike’s gorgeous and I wouldn’t believe you if you disagreed—I’ve totally been Denial Girl. I’m you, remember. I know what you’re attracted to, and as much as you tell yourself it isn’t Spike, just try listening to your heartbeat when he’s around. Trust your heart and for once go for what you want. You can have it, no matter what the Council says.”

Liz watched Buffy walk off, her hips swaying with confidence as she descended the hill and quickly blended in with the trees at the bottom. Much had been said and she had a lot to think about, and as tiny alterations already began to sew together new and more objective thoughts, she surmised it possible she was seeing things a little bit differently. More clearly. Positively.

With a relaxed smile, Liz settled back into the soft grass and remembered some of the conversations she’d held with her faceless friend, recalling some of the amusing anecdotes he’d doctored for her slayer ears, and then the innuendo that had convinced her they could be more than distant talisman-buddies. Those nights of sorrow he’d been her figurative shoulder to weep on, when she was about to break from the hopelessness of it all and he renewed her will to live just by being there. Just by being her friend.

Liz swallowed hard. She’d been a fool, reacting first when she should have clung to the relief she knew she’d felt when he confirmed that Willow hadn’t destroyed him. He’d worried with her and laughed, cried and planned, all through a link that had grown in meaning without the need to really know an identity. Spike couldn’t have been pretending all this time. The vampire was renowned for his impatience, so if he’d planned to kill her by being her confidante for a year, she couldn’t believe it. The fact that he’d dragged his heels for so long to come to her—to finally reveal his face to her—indicated he was afraid of her finding out who he was.

Fear was something she had trouble associating with Spike.

Her response to him had obviously been too hasty. Liz bit her lip and grasped a handful of grass, staring at one particular star that was not exactly extraordinary but was shining brightly enough to catch her eye. And while she watched it seemed to fall from the sky, streaking fast to an atmosphere hostile toward it. Liz jumped to her feet and hurriedly made a wish.

She only hoped she wasn’t too late.

Chapter Nineteen

“But…you said Buffy was happily reuniting with Spike in a miraculously safe LA,” Dawn accused, her blue eyes scanning the guilty faces of the two men she’d trusted more than any other in the world. And then her gaze fell on the heroic Angel and she came very close to a snarl at his hang-dog expression. “Where the hell is my sister?” she demanded, no longer patient with this reluctant meeting.

Giles coughed and Xander rubbed his eye patch, looking nervously to his co-conspirators in the ruse before carefully stepping forward, his hand outstretched toward Dawn in an effort to calm her reaction.

“From what Angel said—”

“Angel said?” interrupted Dawn almost malevolently. “So Angel knows where they are? I take it Spike’s with Buffy? And maybe Willow, too, being that she hasn’t answered any of my calls for the last two days?”

Giles coughed again and then attempted to impart the only real knowledge they had managed to glean so far. “Angel has recounted what he saw and we’ve contacted the coven in order to try and trace them,” he reassured, though it was obvious from his voice that worry had been living at his side for those same two days.

Keen eyes glared at Angel and Dawn strode toward him, determination to know exactly what was going on in every step. “What, exactly, did you see?”

Angel blinked and then shot a hurried look to Giles and Xander before crumbling at their lack of support. “Right. Well, I’d just killed the dragon—”

“Oh spare me the “I-am-a-hero” speech. I am so not in the mood.”

“Fine,” he huffed, completely put out. “There appeared to be two Buffys, though I didn’t notice that until I heard all the buildings around me rattle. We all thought more demons were about to arrive from another dimension. Instead, someone who looked exactly like Spike came running through this tear in front of us, grabbed Buffy and then ran back through. The Spike we know kind of freaked out a little bit,” Angel marvelled, tilting his head to the side in amazed contemplation, “then took off after her. That’s when I saw the other Buffy, and Willow grabbing hold of her before they both disappeared through the tear and then it sealed up and everything was silent.”

Dawn stared at him, stunned. “You’re telling me that a rogue Spike kidnapped Buffy, and then the real Spike flipped, chasing after my sister, and another Buffy then chased after him with Willow hanging on for dear life?” At Angel’s nod she cracked, a snort of amusement preceding the giggles. “Did anyone check Angel for hallucinogens?”

“He’s not imagining it, Dawn. We have corroborating stories from a number of Buffy’s team. Not to mention the mystical evidence at the scene.” Giles thought it prudent to intervene now before Dawn got carried away as usual. They’d dillydallied enough and it was urgent that they made more headway with recovering their head slayer. And Willow…

Giles took out his handkerchief and clutched it tightly in his hand. Buffy was like a daughter to him, of course, but what he felt for the witch defied description. His experiences with Willow over the last few years had allowed her to burrow deep into his heart and if anything had happened to her, he didn’t think he could live with himself.

“So you’re actually telling me my sister and best friend have been kidnapped, presumably into another dimension, two whole days ago and you’re only just telling me about it now? Gee, I thought things would change once I…” She shook her head. Who had she been kidding? No matter how old she got she’d always be Buffy’s kid sister. Just because the Slayer herself was showing good faith and sharing the important things with Dawn now it didn’t mean that anyone else was suddenly going to. There wasn’t even any point getting angry at them over it. All that would do now would be to delay the rescue effort. Her brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed on the Head of the Council. “There is going to be a rescue, right? You aren’t just going to leave them there?”

“Of course we’re going to go rescue them,” Xander nearly shouted, clearing his throat and regaining his control. “We wouldn’t leave them there, Dawnie.”

“Good. Because I’m going.” Dawn crossed her arms across her blossoming body and defied anyone to argue with her.

Not one of them even tried, though at least two sets of chocolate coloured eyes seemed to be distracted by the outline of her breasts. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, she released her arms and allowed them to drop to her sides, her face flaming when Xander and Angel just focused more intently on her slightly visible cleavage.

“Quite right,” agreed Giles, completely missing the not-so-subtle ogling by the other two, but the whip crack of his voice was like a bucket of cold water and both brunettes suddenly came back to themselves, shuddering and squirming in reaction.

Dawn hid a smile and stored the information away for another day. She hadn’t seen Angel since the day they’d stopped in LA after the Hellmouth had collapsed, and then he hadn’t paid much attention to her, being so blinded by the sight of Buffy and her not-so-mortal wound beneath her shirt. And Xander had disappeared so soon after they’d reached London that she hadn’t even had the chance to wish him luck on his travels, let alone say goodbye. She felt resentment toward both of them, and if she could use her boobs to get one back, well, she was a woman now. Where would be the wrong?

“So when do we go?” she asked, eager to go find Buffy and kick Spike for being an idiot all year.

There was a loud ‘pop’ in the room and a wild-haired blonde witch stood straight as an arrow in the centre of the room, her eyes shrewd as she looked at each and every one of them. Finally her scan was at an end and she turned to Giles, her finger pointing behind him at Dawn. “That one was never in this other world and the other two are deceased. As are you. I think it would be of great advantage to take them all.”

“Hey!” spluttered Angel and Xander together. Neither of them were going to stay behind when Buffy was in who-knew-what kind of danger. Still, hearing they wouldn’t be facing their own doubles put a bit of a dampener on the experience.

“Thank you for coming so urgently, Julia,” Giles greeted dryly.

“This mission is foolhardy,” the witch informed him harshly, her green eyes piercing. “Willow will know how to get them all home if it is at all a possibility.”

“And yet we must still go after them,” Giles said in his most official, though resigned voice. “I am afraid that after all we have been through together, if one is to be lost then so should the rest.”

“Way to be with all the gloom, G-man,” chided Xander.

“I am merely being realistic,” Giles defended irritably. “I have no doubt that Willow would know the way home, and yet it has been two days. We cannot leave them alone only God knows where.”

The others nodded solemnly and the witch merely pursed her lips and nodded abruptly.

“Very well,” she said. “Might I suggest we do this in a larger room?”

Giles consented distractedly and then shepherded the others out his office, leading them all down the hall and into a large and conveniently empty conference room. “This should do I think?”

The witch ignored his query and began to set up for the spell. “I was able to trace the exact exit point of the dimension where your people are trapped. I can send you somewhere close to this point.”

“Why not the exact point?” asked Angel curiously.

“Not only would arriving in the same spot be quite dangerous, only the witch who cast the original spell would be able to do it. I am obviously not that witch,” she admitted with smugly.

“Yes, yes,” Giles interrupted, annoyance making his voice clipped. “No one would ever accuse you of opening a portal for your own gain.” He had the satisfaction of seeing Julia’s lips tighten and her eyes flash angrily at him. There was no need for him to feel fear she might use her power to turn him into a frog—she’d tried it on many an occasion during their infancy through to adolescence and he had it on authority that she still tried to perfect the spell at least once a month. If she hadn’t managed it in the last forty-five years, Giles was more than quietly confident she never would.

“You know, it’s possible that this wasn’t a mercenary kidnapping at all,” Dawn interjected. “Maybe it was a mercy mission. You know, a deranged Spike trying to get his Buffy back but taking the wrong one by accident.”

“That’s quite an imagination you’ve got there, kiddo,” teased Xander, though he winked and Dawn knew that he’d already considered the possibility.

“As reassuring as that thought might be, Dawn,” cautioned Giles, “we cannot allow it to make us rest easy until we know for certain.

“Of course, Giles,” she agreed, though deep in her heart, Dawn knew she was right. Buffy and Spike were more right together than anyone would admit and she found it hard to believe that the couple would be as stupid in another world as they’d been in this one.

“Is everyone ready then?” the witch interrupted again, a frown of disapproval on her face.

“As we’ll ever be,” murmured Angel and Giles together, making Dawn and Xander roll their eyes.

Within seconds there was a howling breeze around them, a tear ripping apart the fabric of the world they knew and leaving them with a slim gateway into another—one that hopefully would unveil the mystery of the missing slayer and her vampire and friend.

“Tally ho then, good witch,” Xander called, running toward the blinding light and snagging Dawn’s arm on the way. She screeched as he pulled her through and immediately they were gone, leaving a determined Giles and a curious vampire to follow blindly.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Will groaned.

His head mocked him painfully as he struggled to sit himself up and he gave thanks that at least there were no bright lights to make it worse. All his strength had been sapped in the effort to escape, all his adrenaline tapped leaving him flat and weak now that he was out. He’d found a crypt, in the cemetery closest to the university campus as the thrill of getting free hadn’t lasted much past the exit point. He was barely able to stagger into the crypt and then hide himself inside a stone sarcophagus and beneath an ancient corpse.

“Bloody hell,” he moaned and regretted it the very next instant. He needed blood to rejuvenate his healing abilities and to give his body warmth. Will fancied he’d never felt so bone-numbingly cold in all his years as a vampire and it was a sensation he’d rather not extend if it were at all possible.

Yet he feared going outside.

He had no understanding of what had happened to him, only that his skull throbbed and the thought of feeding his hunger was making it worse. He knew that soldiers were involved—there was no hiding that military stench and he’d been around enough wars in his time to recognise it instantly. Not that the precision of his cage amid a row of identical cages hadn’t given him a little clue.

Feeling defeated, Will sank back amongst the detritus in his tomb and waited.

In his pocket burned the talisman and accepting his already weakened state, he allowed his hand to sink within the fabric and grasp it tight. The silence around him was telling. She’d meant it—every devastating word. She wasn’t coming for him—not without a stake attached to her hand. If he waited here he’d be a dead vamp, just biding time. But where was he going to go, and what purpose could running possibly serve? There was something wrong with him anyway, so maybe it was time to let it all go. He’d lost his heart to a woman who’d never love him and it was a mistake he kept on repeating; a vamp that never learned his lesson was better off dust, he thought.

He’d been an idiot to think another Spike and Buffy—obvious in their feelings for one another—would be all he needed to show Liz the possibilities. You couldn’t force a blind person to see. Seeing wasn’t the important bit anyway, and Liz didn’t feel anything. Not for him, not for the world. He’d lost her and he couldn’t work out where. She’d slipped away during one of those moments when they weren’t linked and Will felt just as defeated himself.

He was pathetic and he knew it.

Stomach growling viciously, head clanging violently, Will closed his eyes and willed himself toward unconsciousness.

Darkness was the only haven he had.

Chapter Twenty

“Holy crap!”

Xander was still clutching hold of Dawn’s arm, staring around him in total amazement.

“You know, I’m so used to not being in Kansas anymore that when I am in Kansas, it completely throws me.” He threw her a familiar goofy grin before grabbing her hands, spinning her around in a circle, then whooping loudly while jumping with her in jubilation. The gangly and euphoric celebration in being back on the Mouth of Hell nearly wiped out Angel as he stumbled out of the dimensional rip and Dawn giggled, loving the wind rushing through her hair as Xander resumed spinning her around and around.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Angel spluttered, but Giles arrived behind him and he had a smile on his lips and a tear in his eye.

“I never thought I’d see this place again,” the watcher admitted affectionately, looking around him at the familiar cemetery. “Restfield,” he sighed, and then spied the crypt that had been Spike’s home for the better part of their final years in Sunnydale.

“What was to miss?” Angel asked in confusion. Dawn rolled her eyes and started looking around. Being in a cemetery—a place of rest—reminded her of all the people she’d been unable to visit since her home had been rendered a massive hole in the ground.

“You think my mom could be here?” she asked Giles, a catch in her voice. His look of sympathy did little to control the emotional wobble of her bottom lip.

“Joyce might be completely well in this dimension, Dawn. It’s unlikely that everything has occurred here identically to our world.” He patted her shoulder comfortingly and at once the three were in contemplation of what this world could mean. It hadn’t escaped their attention when the witch had revealed that none of them existed here. It was a daunting prospect to possibly learn what each of their fates might have been if circumstances had been different.

Angel had lost interest almost immediately in their conversation and instead was glancing this way and that, trying to pinpoint the direction he could sense Spike’s presence. His gaze settled on a crypt in the viewable distance and, as though lured by an invisible force, he began to walk toward it.

Xander shrugged but followed. They had no leads at all and their best option was to go to Buffy’s house, but that would leave them out in the open with no super-strength protection if Angel planned to go off wandering.

They bunched up behind the vampire, confused at his blind obsession to head directly to Spike’s crypt, and then dawning realisation hit them and Xander and Dawn shared a look of excitement.

“Do you think it’s possible?” he asked, slightly awed.

“And then some,” she confirmed, and with another ecstatic whoop, they were off, sprinting negligently toward Spike’s old home and calling his name loudly the second they burst through the worn wooden door.

They were greeted with silence, a multitude of dust and the smell of neglect. Shoulders slumped in disappointment they were ready to leave, and would have if Angel’s bulky frame hadn’t blocked the exit.

“He’s here,” he said, his keen eyes looking around for the smallest scrap of evidence that the crypt wasn’t as vacant as it at first appeared. There was a partial footprint in the layer of dust near the bier and he smiled in satisfaction. Striding over to the stone coffin, Angel lifted the heavy lid like it was nothing but a thin plank of wood and propped it against the side. Peering inside, he snickered at the sight presented to him beneath the ancient bones. “What the hell happened to you?”

The words hadn’t been quite the incentive for the others to crowd around and observe the discovery, but the weak cough that exploded from the sarcophagus’s depths had all three of them running.

“Oh my God, Spike!” Dawn squealed, her hand diving in to start pulling him out.

He made no efforts to co-operate; his energy seemed to be sapped with just focusing on their presence. Xander gasped in recognition once the weakened vampire stood slumped against the slab, his eyes wary and exhausted. His lips were white and cracked, his face pasty and clammy and his body shuddered with the effort to stand. His eyes swept over all of them but finally fell upon the young brunette who had hauled him out of his self-imposed prison with a concern he’d never met with in a human before. She didn’t look a thing like Buffy, but he’d bet his dye job that the chit was the Slayer’s sister.

Only he knew she didn’t have one.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she squealed at a pitch high enough to stun his eardrums and then she’d launched herself into his lax embrace and he stared, surprised, at the men she’d obviously been travelling with.

One was the Watcher he’d seen in ghostly form before he’d dived through the tear in dimensions and retrieved the wrong Buffy. The git definitely looked better when he was less transparent. The next was someone he vaguely remembered catching a glimpse of the year previously when he’d first come to town. The boy that followed his girl around like a lost puppy until he’d trusted the wrong slayer to show him how to be a man. Only this one was older, filled out and apparently fancied himself a pirate.

And then the third.

“Angelus,” Will croaked, his eyes burning resentment as he glared at his grandsire. It was obvious this entourage was from the other Buffy and Spike’s world and Will figured he should be grateful it was this pillock rather than his batty ex that had wandered along to his apparent rescue. He wasn’t going to rush and fill him in on what Will had done to Angelus in this world, though. He hadn’t completely lost his head—yet.

There was a short reprieve in silence as the girl still pressed her face into his chest, her arms squeezing him tighter than he would have allowed had he had any strength to object. And then the boy—Harris—hesitantly stepped forward and rested a reassuring hand on the lass’s shoulder.

“Dawn, this isn’t our Spike.”

And wasn’t that just the rub of it, thought Will bitterly. This lot would come to rescue their Spike; everybody apparently bloody loved their Spike to the point of nauseousness. His lip curled in resentment and Will slumped back even more on his not-so-successful hiding place as he contemplated his predicament.

“No, ‘m not. That git dubbed me Will for the duration. Take them back so I can be myself again, would you?” His request was dripping with derision and impatience and he felt justified in his private celebration for holding it all together. Liz would have been proud—if she gave a fuck about him.

“Oh,” Dawn sniffled in delayed understanding. “That’s okay. You don’t need to be our Spike to get a hug.” And she smiled at him.

Will looked at her in wonder, his hands shaking as they came up to clasp weakly at her arms. He couldn’t hold back the grateful grin and she received it with a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The Watcher stepped forward then, clearing his throat loudly to cover his overt examination of the vampire in front of him.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’ve just escaped from the Initiative. Am I right?” He waited calmly, not a speck of condemnation or intolerance on show and again Will was left floundering at this unexpected display of acceptance.

“If they’re the wankers that go about shooting a bloke in the back with electrical shocks and then do weird scientific experiments designed to do a vamp’s head in then yeah, that’s what I’ve escaped from.”

Giles nodded, obviously grasping enough from Will’s brief description to confirm his suspicions. He peered intently at the vampire, absorbing the decimated state he was in and comparing it to a memory. “You must be quite hungry,” he concluded after a quiet minute and Will nodded his head in agreement.

“Every time I think of it, though, my head feels like it’s gonna implode,” Will admitted shrewdly, eyes narrowed and watchful. He was careful not to word it in a way that reminded them he sucked the blood from humans to keep his body moving. He didn’t kill anymore—couldn’t. Not with the Powers breathing down his neck and then a slayer to impress. The second he realised he loved her he knew she’d never allow him near her if he was whittling away the population.

“Yes, you’ve been chipped,” the Watcher told him and Will’s attention perked up tenfold.

“I’ve been what now?” he demanded.

“You’ve had a behaviour modification chip placed in your brain so that whenever you think of killing humans you’ll get zapped. The pain will act as a deterrent and renders you—”

“You say impotent and I’ll bleeding well bite you, no matter the pain,” he warned sharply. Not that there was any pleasure at all in threatening to off the Council lackey, but Will was done being made the butt of some cosmic joke.

Giles grinned nostalgically and Will found himself softening.

“You lot would be here to help then?” he prompted hopefully.

And they did. Together they rallied around him and headed off to Revello Drive, deeming it safe after Will’s hurried explanation of evil Willow and her bid for ultimate power.

Dawn rolled her eyes as they strolled along. “Not this again,” she grumbled.

Will glanced appreciatively at the girl that shared Buffy’s blood. He could smell it on her—could sense the power that rushed through her veins. The lure of it was amazing and yet he felt no desire to taste. Had no desire to kill. He smiled inwardly, as if he’d passed some kind of secret test that he’d set for himself.

It wasn’t until the newly familiar door of Liz’s home came into sight that his apprehension returned. “Not sure you should take me in there,” he felt compelled to point out, though he was too weak to do anything but be pushed up onto the front porch.

“Don’t worry, Big Bad. I’ll protect you,” Dawn declared, ducking low so that his arm fell unresisting across her shoulders. He could get used to these people—being accepted gave him a high more addictive than anything he could get on or off the black market. And even though he could tell she had no super-strength, that there was no magical talent running through her veins, there was not one doubt she could deliver on her promise.

“I’ll hold you to it, Bit.”

Her giggle was like a symphony of love.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Willow woke slowly, relishing the pleasant ache of her body as she stretched sensually against her bed mate. Eyes still closed, she grinned sleepily as her reactive nipples brushed against an unyielding chest. Her belly hollowed and she bent further back, moaning at the hardness that suddenly brushed between her legs and probed her slick and eager entrance.

“Morning,” she heard, muffled at a distance as a wet tongue circled the now engorged bud before it was sucked completely into Riley’s mouth. The pain was a sweet one, darting forth to connect to her pussy and infusing it with sensation. Her lower lips clenched tight and against the misleading objection, Riley diligently pushed and they both sighed as he sank into the warm depths of her.

Willow wasted no time in pushing him onto his back and taking a seat. She loved the deep stab of his cock as she wriggled around on top of him, sliding up and down while he stroked her body and then pinched her perky nipples hard. She loved being in this position—being in control. She could ride him like this forever, she’d decided one day in the middle of a sweaty session. There was nothing she didn’t love about how Riley’s body suited her own and this was the primary reason why she’d decided to not share her predicament with him at all.

It was time to go to the boss.

Riley had fucked her raw, leaving her a laughing, satiated mess before they’d finally fallen asleep. Through the night she’d awoken to find him curled into her, his lips brushing her shoulder with absent kisses as he slept. It was sweet and Willow realised she couldn’t lose this—not yet. Her only recourse now was to go to her professor and confess all she knew, offer up Buffy as the perfect lab rat and then insinuate herself so deeply into the project that Maggie Walsh would have to take her into her confidence.

And then she’d strike.

He must have sensed her distraction, thought Willow as she felt his fingers sift through her hair, grasping a handful and nudging her head closer to his. His lips bestowed a soft and sweet kiss on hers and Willow felt her heart expand. She shouldn’t be allowing this kind of affection—she had few defences against it.

A shudder of pleasure raced through her body and Willow moaned. She shouldn’t be allowing it, not at all, but it appeared she was powerless to stop it. He made her powerless in moments like these and it was the only time the witch could accept that maybe the answers weren’t all about who had control. Maybe the question was why she needed it.

Mouths fused hotly together and bodies indulging in a slow, sensual rhythm, Willow Rosenberg suffered a momentary episode of weakness.

“I love you,” Riley rasped against her lips and Willow sniffled, welcoming in the next second his pulsing release deep inside her body. Receiving his fluids against her internal flesh seemed so much more personal than being naked with him and it was something Willow was proud she could give him. She didn’t love him, but she did care.

“I know,” she replied softly, sincerely, because she had absolutely no doubts that he did.

She just had no love left to return.

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