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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 Twenty-One

“Miss Rosenberg, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

Professor Walsh stared imperiously down her nose at the over-confident student on the other side of her desk and held her breath. Startling accuracies about her secret work had already tumbled from the redhead’s lips and she was trying hard to tamp down the impulse to panic.

“Yes, you do. I know all about the Initiative—where it is, and what you’re doing down there. I know that you’re collecting demons—though I admit I don’t know why. And I know that you can’t resist the opportunity to find out if the legend of the Vampire Slayer is real. It is, by the way. And I can hand her to you.”

Maggie sat back in her chair and thought fast. There was obviously little point continuing along the standard denial route. This student had always shown she had quite an aptitude for research work and now it was apparent she wasn’t above some kind of manipulation to find out whatever she needed to know. Still, there was one motivating reason to listen to what the girl had to say, because she was right. Maggie already found it impossible to dismiss the lure of an actual slayer. That such a girl was real…

“What do you want?” There was no point hoping the redhead didn’t want something, because so far the interview had had a definite switch of power to it. Maggie’s eagerness to hear more of the legend-that-was-apparently-a-reality won out over her natural desire for a winning cover-up.

“I want to be part of the Initiative,” Willow stated with calm and cold determination.

Maggie laughed, completely surprised but highly amused.

“What could you possibly offer this project?” she jeered and then gasped in shock as Willow’s eyes definitely flashed black.

“I am offering you the Slayer on a silver platter. Find a place for me in your operation—I’m good with science,” Willow suggested threateningly. She relished the shiver she inspired in the older woman. She knew that Maggie was very powerful in her own right, and now Willow was easily diminishing her control.

For Maggie, the urge to refuse was strong, and yet a carrot dangled provocatively in front of her face and she found it impossible in the end to resist.

“Alright,” she conceded through tight lips. “I’ll create a position for you, but I will expect you to contribute equally to this project. We’re on a tight schedule.”

Infused with success, Willow smiled confidently, not holding back the menacing evidence of her strength. It would do Maggie good to know she wouldn’t be made a fool of—or tricked. Professor Walsh had always impressed her as a teacher. As an evil genius she definitely lacked the stamina.

“Don’t bother trying to bury me in the mundane side of your operation. I want top clearance or there’s no deal.” Her expression was icy as she held the professor’s furious stare. Maggie dropped her eyes first, cleared her throat and then stood abruptly.

“How do you know about the Slayer?” As far as Maggie knew, the Slayer was supposed to work alone—her identity had been kept secret for hundreds if not thousands of years. How a girl like Willow Rosenberg could know the truth was startling. And with that knowledge, she refused to be taken for a fool because a deranged student thought she could hijack Maggie’s life’s work.

“I live on the Hellmouth, Professor. You’d be surprised at the things I’ve seen.”

The smug confidence of the redhead was screaming at Maggie to kick the girl out of her office and never look back, but there was also that niggling curiosity that there were secrets to this place she’d chosen for her research that a resident hadn’t hidden their eyes from.

“How do you expect to explain this to Riley, or does he know about this slayer as well?” Betrayal swum rapidly to her heart and Maggie felt the blood rush to her head. She’d considered Riley Finn to be like a son—one she’d never intended to have but was grateful to be blessed with. He was everything a woman like her could want in a child—subservient, unquestioning in upholding his duty, and lacking all the curiosity many of his fellow soldiers didn’t.

Before the redhead could reply, there was a sharp double knock on her door and then it burst open, admitting the focus of their conversation, irritation ticking at his jaw. Both women stared, surprised at his unaccustomed behaviour.

“Professor,” he addressed respectfully. “There’s something I need to tell you.” He sidestepped, aware of the student in consultation with his boss but not at first registering who it was. “Willow?” There was tempered affection in his voice but then a frown settled across his face. “Everything okay?”

That was so like Riley, Willow thought, smiling her own greeting. Showing concern even when there were obviously bigger issues at stake.

“Professor Walsh was just offering me a job—as a scientist in her lab downstairs. I accepted,” she giggled before throwing herself into his arms, squeezing tightly and smirking into the collar of his shirt. “She’s just been filling me in on how everything works,” she admitted next, taking sadistic pleasure in the uncomfortable flush of the professor’s cheeks and Riley’s jaw-dropping reaction.

“That’s um…whoa! Welcome aboard,” he greeted enthusiastically, enveloping Willow in a bear hug so sincere that a tiny flash of guilt rippled through her nervous system. “We’ll have to celebrate properly tonight,” he apologised, regret flavouring the air.

“That would be perfect,” she agreed, and found herself strangely looking forward to it and more time with Riley. “Anyway, you better tell us what’s happened. You know, time is money and all.”

The soldier looked uncertainly at his boss. As much as he loved Willow he knew better than to reveal top secret information in front of a civilian—even if they had been newly employed in the labs.

Willow swept her gaze over the professor and felt anger taint her blood. Her irises enlarged and turned inky, a clear warning to the academic that she’d better give Riley the go ahead toward revelation or there could be unexpected consequences.

The professor nodded imperceptibly to Riley and thought hard on the slayer information she’d be rewarded with. “Yes, Riley. What is it?”

He snapped back to attention, a soldier in civvies all the way as he gave his unfavourable report. “There’s been an escape, Ma’am. Hostile 17 tricked the guards and he’s made it out.”

Willow’s brow perked in curiosity. “Who is Hostile 17?” Before his lips parted in explanation she felt a sudden moment of premonition. It wasn’t totally surprising to hear of demon captures and she knew enough to expect that the ones that passed their initial examination and were implanted were awarded with an official number in order for tracking. She was kind of surprised at the low number, however, considering how long the Initiative had been in place. Seventeen implied that the success of the experiment so far wasn’t as high as she’d have liked.

“A vampire we tagged two nights ago. Bleached hair, leather coat—it’s amazing how these things cling to their past,” the commando joked with a shake of his head.

Riley had no idea, Willow thought vindictively. Relief was flushing away that prickle of guilt from earlier and she was able to finally feel confident that her plan to obliterate Buffy and her new support group was completely up and running.

“Well, we can’t have that.” With a frosty stare at her new boss and a warm smile for her boyfriend, Willow headed to the door, opened it and peered back over her shoulder, for all appearances the sudden leader of the group. “Let’s go get him back, shall we?”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Liz had walked for hours. She’d walked for so long her leg muscles were aching. And yet, she was still no closer to knowing how she should feel. No closer to reconciling Will as the man she’d been confiding in for the past year.

He knew all her secrets. Knew every detail of every single horror that had been her life since she’d been Called and every second she’d unloaded her heart to him she’d been grateful. For his presence and for his care, because that had shone through bright and clear. Her faceless, nameless friend had hurt for every one of her pains and he’d done his best to give her confidence and support through an invisible link.

She could understand now why he’d never wanted to share his name with her. Or why he’d not come to her earlier. Her initial reaction to his presence—despite the example of his reformed nature—had been far less than welcoming. Or accepting. Even after Buffy’s lecture she could feel her heart melting a little bit, but there was still quite a tall wall to climb before she could completely change her mindset from Spike evil/Spike bad to ‘maybe Will’s not so evil after all.’

Why did she always get handed the hard stuff to work through?

With a sigh, Liz turned back to Revello Drive. The only thing she knew for certain was that she missed him. When he was on the other side of her talisman he was the most important person in her life and losing the innocence of that was many shades more painful than the discovery of his real identity.

But the Powers had sanctified this relationship.

It was a fact that Liz was still trying to wrap her head around. What had they been trying to prove by giving a vampire permission to delve into the depths of her psyche? Since when was it a good thing for a slayer to bond with a notoriously evil and powerful master vampire? Did they not work for the side of good anymore?

Or had Will switched sides right under her nose?

The thought stopped her dead in her tracks. He’d come to her rescue the second she’d revealed how scared she was of Willow—he’d plotted with the witch so far as it worked in order to get her back, even if he had retrieved the wrong Buffy. He’d managed to knock Willow out and had tied the witch up before she could blink at how fast things were happening, and though she didn’t realise it at the time, Liz now recognised that he’d done it all for her. Did it all to protect her.

For all intents and purposes, he was still the Spike she’d known the previous year—in looks at least. She didn’t know if he was out killing, though there didn’t appear to be any escalation in vamp-attributed deaths recently. She didn’t know if he was cooking up some scheme or if he’d come to Sunnydale with some plan other than to fulfil a promise. If she put faith in her talisman friend rather than picturing Will in his place, she couldn’t deny that his presence was reassuring and infused her with a warmth she’d not felt in such a long time. She’d been frozen for too long, just waiting for the final curtain to fall and Willow’s last bid for power. When she put it in that perspective, there was only one thing left to feel. Gratitude.

Was her affection for her secret friend now displaced then?

Before Will had been unveiled as her confidante she’d considered him to be so much more than just a friend. The potential beginning to blossom between them had changed her view on everything and now Liz realised that she had to make a very important decision. Did knowing who she’d been falling for make a difference to her ability to fall fully? Or did the nature of who and what Will was make it impossible for her to resume their relationship on any level?

Liz reached her house and slowly climbed the porch steps. Her mind and heart were so torn on this issue that she wasn’t sure she could even reach an answer. Hand resting on the front door, her heart filled with dread, the only thing she knew for certain was that she had to find him.

She had to rescue him and maybe then, she’d know.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You know where they’re keeping Will?” Liz asked, apprehension and nerves making her voice shake. Apparently once she’d made up her mind to rescue Will, emotion had dug in its claws and she was desperate to see his face again—desperate to see him safe and unharmed. Desperate to find out what this Initiative was and bring it down.

Spike stepped forward, his eyes burning with approval. “You gotta plan, sweetness?”

Liz began to crumble as she looked at the souled vampire. Why was she always so late to connect dots and work out the bigger picture? She shrugged helplessly before absently snagging a stake from her back jeans pocket and began twirling it nervously. Did she have a plan? Other than to beat Willow to a bloodied, red-haired pulp, not so much. But Will had come to Sunnydale to help her, and if that meant she had to bear through a few misplaced kisses and totally bleach her brain of hers and Will’s twins having sex in a crypt then so be it. That kind of thing might be a long time coming—if it ever was going to—and if there was a possibility, she’d rather explore it without all the x-rated imagery she’d already been slapped with.

“Only plan I have is to get him out and destroy whatever is going on in there. Which should be easy, right? You’ve already done this once.” Liz didn’t like the shared look of regret between Buffy and Willow.

“Wasn’t easy for us at all,” sighed Buffy, filled with a sudden sorrow. “In fact, the only way we could take down Adam was for me to combine my life force with Xander and Giles—two people your world is sadly lacking.”

Just as tears of hopelessness threatened, a rapid series of knocks bounced off her front door and Liz snapped to attention. Everyone but Will was here: Oz had been playing friendly in the back with Willow, and Buffy and Spike were just playing. Funny how it seemed slightly less nauseating now that the fear of never seeing Will again had really hit her.

It occurred to all of them in the same instant that they were sitting ducks for the Initiative. They’d protected the house—and themselves while they remained in it—against any of crazy!Willow’s magical attacks, but the Initiative soldiers were human and could walk right in. The front door wouldn’t be much of a deterrent if the witch had managed to convince them they’d find demons in the house.

On guard and geared toward attack, they gathered protectively around Liz. As well as they could be with an instant’s premonition, they prepared for whatever was on the other side of the door as Liz slowly made her way toward it. There was no point checking through the window for who it was—their best chance was to attack without any warning to the enemy on the porch that they understood the deal; with a deep breath, she threw open the door and nearly collapsed in astonishment at the group that greeted her.

“Oh God, Spike!” Totally forgetting the designated names for the other Spike’s duration, Liz threw her arms around Will and carefully dragged him into the house. Everyone watched in shock as she gazed at his waxen pallor fearfully and positioned him on the couch. “You didn’t tell me he’d be like this,” she shrieked accusingly, seemingly not knowing what to do first—berate those with the knowledge they’d held back or hug Will back to undead health. Then she looked back toward the open door and felt her knees tremble. An enclosed bubble of memories she’d locked away so she could survive Willow’s vindictive company without all the hurt to distract her began to pulsate and then it burst, screams of futility and grief overtaking her as she saw them standing before her alive and then as the last time she’d seen them—slaughtered for the cause.

Memory and commonsense came second to the horrors of the past and for one frightened blink, this is what Liz believed Willow had sent to unsettle her. What Willow believed would finally defeat her. That the witch had known that just being able to touch Giles and Xander again would undo her in a way nothing else could. Before she could decide to cry out or collapse, Buffy and the other Willow had rushed forward, squealing, and she recognised herself as a fool.

Flushing hotly in embarrassment, blood slowly calming from an inferno of panic, Liz stepped forward and tried to not look too deeply into the newcomers’ faces. Except for one. The tall teen had something about her that was instantly recognisable to Liz but try as she might, she couldn’t place her. The girl was barely restraining her excitement and then with trembling shock, Liz realised she was caught in the teen’s arms with all her air being squeezed out of her. For several seconds her brain shut down—so unused to being touched as she now was—and she couldn’t decide if this child was sent as an assassin and Liz was about to fall down dead, or if the bands of steel squishing her toward the next life was just a youthful show of affection.

“I’m Dawn.”

The squeal nearly blew her eardrums, so close they were and Liz used her last resources to try and step up the process of identifying the girl. With a lurch, Liz stood away gasping, her arms outstretched from pushing herself out of the octopus-like grasp. Taking the time to reassert her equilibrium and make a closer study of the stranger, Liz finally shrugged, defeated. “Nope. I’ve no clue who you are.”

Dawn just giggled then went and stood beside her sister.

Liz blinked. How did she know that?

“Bit’s got slayer’s blood thundering through her veins,” Will choked from the couch, making Liz jump the proverbial foot in the air. She spun around, tossing a distracted ‘Nice to meet you,’ over her shoulder and proceeded to fuss over Will. She’d work out the mini slayer sister mystery when she was good and not-so-insane.

She couldn’t look him in the eye, not when her last words to him through the talisman were echoing loudly in her brain. She felt ashamed, and not all of it was for being a bitch. Healthy doses came from being so contrary too—she was plenty confused so Liz had no idea how Will was faring.

“He needs blood more than anything,” Spike observed, his face almost split in a grin.

Liz missed the smart ass expression on the souled vampire’s face but Buffy didn’t and she thwapped him half-heartedly on the shoulder.

“Slayer, if I’d got this kind of reception when I happened along your little Thanksgiving dinner, I might have been a tad more helpful.”

“Sure, honey,” Buffy nodded condescendingly. “I’m so sure you’d have been all with the good fighting when there was the possibility of bloodshed for you to enjoy!”

Spike smirked then ducked his head sheepishly. “Right. So I wasn’t on the track to be reformed just yet. Still, just saying…”

Buffy grinned and squeezed his hand. “That day was a priceless memory—bears and all. No way would I change it for anything.”

“Good to see you two made it with the mushily-ever-after. Can we go home now?” groused Xander good-naturedly while slapping Spike on the shoulder. The vampire stumbled forward in shock.

“That’s quite a bit of force you got behind there, floppy boy,” Spike goaded. “You been working out?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Xander returned the volley, ending with a wink. Dawn snickered heartily as Spike appeared to be blushing before he quickly eradicated the strangeness by stepping away from the burly lumberjack and standing on the other side of Buffy.

“Has the boy turned queer, Slayer?” he stage-whispered for all to hear. Xander and Giles shot him equally vitriolic expressions of disgust but Angel chuckled along at the joke.

“Aaaaaaarrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhhhh.”

The jollity of the room was cracked apart by the wounded cry that speared through the air. Liz had jumped back from Will, barely missing his tortured movements to grasp his head as obvious pain wracked his body. Her face was a picture of shock and uselessness, her hands flexing spasmodically with nothing in them to remain steady. Suddenly she remembered that experience was mere steps away from her and she spun on her heel, desperation clear to all with the way her body vibrated with the need for action.

“What’s wrong with him?” she demanded, torn between stomping to them and forcing an answer out of them or falling back to Will’s side to at least offer some kind of comfort.

Spike shrugged, gaze darting between Buffy and Rupert before bouncing back onto Will. “This didn’t happen to me. Not till after the First anyway.”

“The First of what?” Liz asked, her voice rising and becoming noticeably shaky.

Spike ignored her and faced Buffy. “Looks like when the chip acted up.”

Buffy’s eyes widened fearfully and she strode to Liz’s side. “We have to get the chip out.”

“An’ how do you propose doing that, Slayer?” Spike asked, exasperated. “We don’t have any guilt-motivated soldier boy’s to convince to cooperate. This chip just went in—I hardly think the Initiative’s medical team is gonna line up outside and agree to take it out.”

Buffy couldn’t miss Liz’s anguish and it struck every one of her nerves. If only she’d cared about Spike like this earlier—if only she’d cared about his pain from the beginning of the chip. If she’d had compassion and respect for a creature that had proven he’d deserved it—well, things might not have taken two deaths and several apocalypses to come full circle.

She looked wildly around the room, already knowing the bogus flower shop route was completely out. Willow. The witch had turned a whole world’s potentials into slayers over night. Surely she could zap a little chip out of the vampire’s head?

“I know you can do this, Wills.”

Willow blinked at the blonde, not immediately following her suggestion. Then her eyes widened in a flood of understanding. “Oh!” She stepped forward and began touching Will’s head, feeling for the already healing wound exposing where the chip had entered his brain. “Okay, might want to get out of the way for this,” she warned, then wasted no time to check before mumbling some Latin and holding her hand out to receive the metal. There was a zap of electricity and then it sat in her palm, circuits still joined to a little grey matter sizzling against her skin. Horror transformed her pretty features and Willow shuddered. “Ewwwwwww.”

“Perhaps you should take the tracker out of his back while you’re at it?” Giles suggested, earning an appreciative ‘Thanks, mate,’ from Spike for doing so.

Willow sucked up her revulsion and concentrated on the tracking device the Scoobies knew was placed in his back and seriously hoped her hair wasn’t going to frizz this time. Seconds later and she had another chunk of metal in her palm and without waiting for further instruction, she turned them into multi-million dollar, scientifically useless lint.

Liz stared at the witch as if she’d never seen magic performed before—or at least, none that had actually benefited anyone else—and then rushed the witch into a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, her throat clogged with emotion.

Willow nodded, glad to do something to wipe a little of the haunting sadness from this slayer’s face and then stood back as Liz helped a severely depleted Will to his feet.

“I’m gonna take him up to my room to rest. Can someone here organise some blood?”

There was action, and speech, and excitement exploding back into life as she quickly manoeuvred Will from the room. Together they slowly ascended the stairs, a cup of warmed blood waiting for them at Liz’s bedroom door with a friendly, smiling Dawn attached to it. Liz had barely even noticed when the girl had raced by them on the stairs. Dawn pushed open the door and placed the mug on the bedside table, smiling happily at the couple before she left the room in a similar whirlwind to the one she’d arrived in.

“Thank God I don’t have a sister,” Liz bemoaned gratefully. She could barely take care of herself let alone a bundle of energy like that. “I mean, I’m sure she’s lovely and everything—”

“Yeah,” Will agreed in his gravely, bone-weary rasp. “Bet the Bit’s a bloody peach. Still wouldn’t want to get caught in her way.”

Liz couldn’t hold back the grin and she actually allowed herself to share it with Will as she gently lowered him onto her sheets. It felt like a lifetime since she’d last graced them, yet she knew the second Will remembered and she flushed. Of course he’d remember—he’d taken pleasure in pointing out her nakedness.

Silence stretched out between them and the longer it continued, the more confused Liz became. Confused, and ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” she admitted, then waited for the sarcasm that was her due.

“What for?”

The crinkle between his brows appeared cute to Liz and she melted even more. Refusing to give in to that ‘he’s-a-vampire-and-I-slay-vampires’ mentality was working wonders at helping her see her bed-guest more clearly. Her heart thudded with realisation. This was Will: faceless, nameless shoulder that she’d cried on when the perils of living with Willow had become too much and she’d known her time was running out. Will, whose flirtatious innuendos had warmed her blood and made her body ache for contact. This was the guy she’d trusted not only with her secrets but to come to her aid at the first whimper of her need. She’d trusted him and he’d come.

How lucky was she to have a friend like that?

Back ramrod straight and courage in her heart, Liz admitted it to him as well as herself.

“I’m sorry for thinking of you as a vampire first and last.”

Will was obviously perplexed, his face crumpling up adorably into a frown.

“What else exactly were you supposed to do, pet? I’m the bloody wanker too gutless to tell you who I was. Can’t blame you for not taking the news well when you finally found out.”

Liz smiled down at the bedding that was covering Will’s legs and felt herself flushing. “Definitely might have been nice if you’d told me yourself,” she agreed, wondering at how warm she felt at his dry chuckle.

“That’s it, Slayer. Put the boot in when a vamp’s not feeling his best.” He’d already finished the blood Dawn had brought to the room and Liz looked up and saw a gentle resurgence of colour to his skin. He still looked grey and a little blue around the lips, his expression pinched, but there was a renewed light in his eyes that Liz realised she’d never noticed before—not when she’d only been looking for the cold confirmation of a brutal killer.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” It felt like a secret and as the words balanced on the air and then sank into Will’s psyche, nerves hammered through her body hard until Liz felt the pain of rejection before she could even receive it.

He looked awed that she could share such words with him and with a hand that shook, he cupped her cheek and wondered if he’d ever have the courage to try and kiss her again.

“That means a lot, Buffy.” For something so momentous he wasn’t going to muddy the waters with a name that was meaningless to both of them. On the surface she was Liz—but only until the house cleared out and their guests returned to their own dimension. Then she’d be Buffy again and he’d be free to press his advantage and hopefully end up with happiness all around.

And right now, Liz didn’t look like she’d mind so much.

“I’ll get you some more blood,” was all she said, but the hope that burned in her eyes as she caught his gaze one final time before leaving made him feel stronger than he suspected any blood ever could have done.

It was enough to bring a hardened evil vamp to tears.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“So, what’s the sitch?” Xander asked, rubbing his hands together like he hadn’t been near an apocalypse in the last three days. “Got any Big Bads for the Xander-Panda to rough up and take down the slippery slope of death?” His eager eye swept over his friends and then to the familiar ginger-haired guitarist staring strangely at him from where he stood behind Willow. “Hey! It’s Oz! How are you, buddy?”

“Good,” Oz replied, his voice free of inflection. “You? I see you’re not dead.”

“Me?” Xander grinned. “Only in one eye.” And he pointed out his festive pirate patch for those in the room who were blinder than him.

“Cool,” Oz responded, and Buffy rolled her eyes. Of course there’d be male bonding over the eye patch. It all made perfect sense.

Willow hesitantly raised her hand, waiting for Xander to turn back to her, and once he had, her shoulders slumped dejectedly. “You got any more rousing crayon speeches? I’m kind of all out,” she admitted with a voice saturated with failure.

Xander’s eye widened dramatically. “There’s an evil Willow on the loose?”

Buffy nodded. “And it gets worse. She’s apparently boinking Riley.”

The bulging one-eye trick really shouldn’t have been anything but gross, and it was, though it utterly fascinated everybody in the room.

“I’m seeing this as not being a good thing?” Xander guessed correctly and then grinned at Willow’s acute embarrassment.

“Believe me,” she muttered, her voice almost failing with fatigue and humiliation. “So not.”

“So what are we looking at here exactly?” Angel stepped forward, unused to being in the back of the pack and rather eager to do what needed to be done so he could get back to his own world. He still had a post-apocalypse girlfriend to find. He only hoped she hadn’t run off altogether.

“We’re looking at a megalomaniac witch who’d fry you soon as look at you,” Spike reported drolly. He uncurled himself from around Buffy, happy at the lack of reaction from Peaches so far but unwilling to push his luck. “The bint’s lost it; all her marbles rolled south for the winter. Saw her buddy and her mentor murdered and now thinks she has to control the world—she’s not off to a bad start, either. Got it in for Liz bad and my guess is she’s probably trying to get the resources of the Initiative behind her.”

Xander blinked his one good eye and Angel, Giles and Dawn looked around for an unfamiliar face. “Who is this Liz?” Giles asked on behalf of all of them. It was irritating to get the story late as it was without even knowing who all the characters were.

“That would be me,” Liz said with distaste as she finished descending the stairs and enlightenment broke out on three faces at least.

“Liz? What kind of crappy name is Liz? What was wrong with Anne? Or Elizabeth—I like Beth. That would have worked,” Dawn advised, completely missing Spike’s irritated expression.

“Your sister’s boyfriend came up with it,” Liz confided with a dirty look to the vampire. “Ask him why he figured he’d give me such a name. I am supposedly the love of his life.”

“Not quite, pet. You jus’ look like her. There’s a difference, see,” Spike justified, and then bestowed a loving look on his glowingly gorgeous girl.

“Whatever,” she replied, suddenly more chirpy than she’d been mere seconds ago. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder why she felt no connection at all with this Spike, or why Buffy hadn’t felt the need to rush to Will’s side with more than friendly affection. Now that it did, Liz found it suited her more than a little that the respective vampires seemed perfect for just one slayer—whether she had an identical face or not. Nothing threatened the closeness she’d shared with Will when she hadn’t known who he was but relied on him anyway.

“So, do we have a course of action yet?” Liz finally looked her fill of Xander and Giles—and felt nothing. Nothing past the longing ache in her chest at least. There was no devastation that made it hard to breathe—no uncontrollable urge to have back what she’d lost at any cost. Just like she’d been able to accept the sight of her own face walking around her house, so had she mentally placed these doppelgangers in a segment of her brain that didn’t release memories too hard to cope with. They were here and she was okay with it, seeing them and not the Xander and Giles she’d shared smiles with and spilled heartbroken tears for.

“Not as such, no. What exactly is the objective here?” Giles inquired as he removed his glasses and rubbed the back of his aching neck.

Spike glanced at Willow and hoped she would one day forgive him for his matter-of-fact views on the situation. “To take out the witch.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

He recognised this house.

It felt like a lifetime ago, but when he’d first come to Sunnydale he’d glimpsed a girl that he had no choice but to follow. She’d been small and golden—even in the moonlight—and so fast and strong that taking on a vampire twice her size and yet coming out on the undusty side had seemed like child’s play. His equipment had told him she was human and so he’d left her alone—having no reason to approach her without revealing who and what he was. She was poetic in the way she moved in the dark and even then he’d known she was a force of good. He was intrigued and smitten.

But she wasn’t for him.

It had saddened him at the time, but then he’d met Willow and he’d forced himself to get over it—and he had. He’d fallen in love with the redhead and if all went according to plan, they’d have an announcement within the next six months he could be proud of.

But that hadn’t wiped away his shock that she was turning this girl in for being a slayer. A slayer. One girl in all the world, chosen to fight vampires. It read like a fairytale and Riley Finn wondered how it could possibly be true. And even if it were, wasn’t she still human? Her blood was warm and she wasn’t possessed with anything but extra-strength and an uncanny ability to kill monsters that little girl’s like her were supposed to be afraid of. Was it right for Maggie to want her for observation? Was it right for Maggie to want to cage her and study her like an animal?

He wasn’t going to lie to himself. He knew deep down the kind of woman Maggie was, and on some nights it was hard for his conscience to accept his seemingly blind devotion to her. The woman was cold and cruel—she’d rewarded him and his men with her own form of affection but he suspected that was more for what kind of creatures they brought her than for care on her part for any of them.

That Willow wasn’t displaying any kind of remorse for what was going to happen to this Buffy terrified him. Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of her black-eyed determination and nearly pee his pants in fright. But every time he’d convinced himself it was nothing. And he had apparently been right, because she never said a harsh word to him—never belittled him or patronised him despite her obviously encyclopaedic knowledge of the shadowy realities of this town.

“I’m picking up three hostiles on the infra-red,” reported a voice on his radio and Riley clenched his jaw. He had to force his mind onto this mission—at the very least they needed to recapture Hostile 17 and according to Willow, he was more than likely in this house.

“Copy that,” he confirmed and breathed hard. This was it, the moment he hadn’t been waiting for. Willow was anticipating God only knew what in the car down the street with the professor, claiming to be able to neutralise this slayer as soon as she passed beyond her front yard. He couldn’t see how, but the professor trusted his girlfriend in ways he’d never seen her trust another before.

“All units advance on my signal. Isolate the insurgents and wait for my command. Do not destroy. This is a recovery mission. I repeat, do not destroy.” He waited a beat till all radios had crackled their understanding of orders, then with a sinking heart and adrenaline fuelling his body, he held his radio close to his lips and barked the final order.

“Move in.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The doors had been barricaded against them.

If Riley had stopped then to think about that, he might have halted the advance. Hindsight was a bitch, he thought, as he contemplated how he had led his team stupidly into the middle of an ambush.

More than the usual number of strikes with the portable battering ram had been needed against each entry point—it had been as if each door had been held in place with stronger glue than he’d ever used and a vampire against it for good measure.

He knew now how foolish that thought had been. There were factors operating within the house that Riley still didn’t understand, but that was little surprise when he had the bigger mystery of how Willow had managed to enter the house ahead of him without his even noticing. He’d left her with Maggie himself, already concerned about his girlfriend being in the middle of a possibly hostile situation. His worry was misplaced while it looked like she was playing both sides in a sick and twisted—yet incredibly confusing—way.

The doors had barely budged an inch with each hit with the ram. His team was persistent, however, and as soon as they’d gained entry, they’d stormed the interior. His head was still spinning at how unreal everything that had happened next was. When asked, Riley would have to admit it had felt like rolling through dough, trying to push each limb ahead of his body while desperately trying to retain hold of his weapon. Time had somehow slowed to the point where every word he said—every command he gave—had been stretched one syllable at a time into a bottomless pit of nothing. Not one word made sense to his own ears so he was willing to bet that all his men heard was gibberish. Not that it mattered anymore. Not with each and every one of them tied up and helpless.

They hadn’t seen them until it was too late—and even then it had been pathetic watching his men try to avoid capture. Avoid being taken by vampires. Moving too slow—like the six-million dollar man in reverse—Riley had barely registered the blonde blur that had circled him and then disarmed him, knocking out his knees till he fell to the floor. He’d been unable to think fast enough to struggle and yet they’d had time to strip him of weapons and tie is hands and feet together tighter than a drum.

And now the world seemed clear again—the air had settled back to normal speed and his eyes and mouth didn’t feel so dry. Though obviously he’d been hit in the head without feeling it because he was seeing double.

“I’m really sorry we had to do this, Riley,” the blonde said quietly.

He nodded in understanding, then reared up his head and stared deeply into her eyes. “What exactly did you do?”

Willow stepped forward, her composure jittery but confident. “Um, hi.” She emphasised the greeting with a wiggly-fingered wave and the soldier was struck with how girlish and innocent his girlfriend suddenly seemed. “I…uh…kinda slowed down time a bit—just so Buffy and Spike could contain you. Also, didn’t want you firing at anything, because, well….house pretty?” She chewed her lip self-consciously, almost shrinking at his disbelieving expression.

“You…slowed down time?” Maybe he’d suffered several knocks to his head.

“Uh huh,” she nodded quickly, sighing deeply in relief as the short red-headed boy he recognised from one of the local bands stepped up and held her hand.

“You can do that?” Riley persisted, glaring hard at this newcomer.

“She really can,” Oz confirmed and the smile Willow shone on him was beatific and grateful.

Riley’s gut sank. “What the hell is going on here? Willow?”

His girlfriend’s eyes went extremely wide and she was suddenly looking around for help. “Guys?”

“This isn’t your Willow, you prat. Can’t you bloody tell the difference?”

The vampire Riley knew only as Hostile 17 stepped from the stairs in the foyer and slowly entered the living room. Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey wasn’t quite the situation he’d been thinking of when setting off on this mission but Riley refused to give in to fear. The vampire sneered at him, hatred sparking dangerously in his cold gaze that Riley wondered if being defiant was the best course of action, but then the creature’s words registered and he did a double-take.

“Huh? How many Willows are there?”

“A-at least two, actually,” said another, older British man, though being older amongst vampires was all a matter of conjecture.

“And this one isn’t mine?” He watched as the redhead avidly shook her head and he could see how much she believed she actually was closer to being the shorter guy’s girl than his. A headache exploded behind his eyes and Riley slumped tiredly in his constraints.

“So, there are two Willows, this one isn’t my girlfriend, and she can stop time?”

The room seemed crowded all of a sudden, with replica slayers and vampires and a bunch of other miscellaneous people he’d never seen before. It was like stepping into the middle of a circus without ever having seen the tent.

“Look, I know this is confusing,” Buffy began, “but your Willow is kind of trying to kill us all. We’re just trying to stop her.”

And with that startling revelation bouncing around in his head, Riley found himself rather abruptly gagged with a suspect looking cloth and the group he’d been sent to capture escaping out the back door. Confused and now worried eyes communicated his distress to his similarly bound team and together they struggled against their constraints.

Willow and the professor were unguarded.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Her irises had been completely consumed with darkness by the time they arrived. Lightning stretched from her fingertips, holding Angel high against a tree as it scorched his flesh. His mouth was open wide, inhuman screams of pain being torn from his throat but falling onto an apparently deaf world. The sight was terrifying from every standpoint, and while the professor held back, staring in fascinated horror, the witch thrived on the hum of her invincible power.

“How stupid do you believe me to be?” she screamed as soon as they came into view, and while Will and Liz looked ready to tackle her, Buffy and Spike held them back, jaws clenched tight with fury and fear at the way Angel was being tortured.

“Let him go and I know my mind will change,” Buffy all but snarled, her helpless expression unable to turn from Angel’s painfully writhing form. It was like seeing Willow once again go for Warren, though she really didn’t fancy seeing how a vampire would get on without his skin.

“She doesn’t need to put him down,” their Willow said, anger radiating from her as she confidently took to the front of the group. With a seemingly careless flick of her wrist she released the vampire, shooting Angel halfway down the street to rest out of sight and back near the house. With a bit of mind-prodding, she sent a reluctant Dawn after him.

The darkness seemed to swallow the night whole as a blisteringly furious witch threw an invisible wall at them, knocking them to the ground and allowing her to stand tall over them.

Buffy groaned, winded. Liz was slow to her feet, actually taking the time to check on Will and Giles before she turned back to face her witch. Otherworld Xander was already there, his hand outstretched and his one good eye pleading for the witch to renege on her vicious intent and share a new day with them.

“Remember the yellow crayon, Will?” His eye seemed alight with the childhood memory and Liz groaned. This was all they had?

“What the hell are you talking about?” the black-eyed Willow scoffed. “Is that all you’ve got?” She advanced on the identical image of her dead friend until she stood right in his face, and then she slapped him hard and laughed. “Did you seriously think you could come here and retell some sad old story from your own world and I’d fall to my knees and sob?”

Xander’s slow, confused nod indicated that he actually had and the fear his friends felt for him escalated dramatically.

“Go home, Harris,” the witch screamed and she replicated the other Willow’s neat trick and flicked him back several yards, taking joy in his yell of pain as he struck the ground hard. “Anyone else want to try a stupid otherworld anecdote? Come on, I’m due for a really good laugh.”

With bones protesting her prior knowledge of how much this was going to hurt, Buffy attacked, her punches hitting air and her legs effortlessly knocked out from under her.

“You I just want to squash like a bug,’ the witch admitted carelessly, and then Buffy could feel something heavy pressing her into the ground and the air being forced from her lungs. Panic kicked her from the inside and she struggled, knowing her face was turning blue from a lack of oxygen while her body felt like it was snapping into several pieces. Spike was at her side in seconds and Buffy willed him away, willed him out of nut job Willow’s sight so that he’d stay safe.

Evil Willow sent spears of fire at him and one immediately penetrated his shoulder, eliciting the first scream from Buffy’s bruised airways she’d been able to since having the ability forcefully taken from her. The flesh disintegrated as Spike fell backwards and howled, his strong hands seizing the projectile and yanking it out of his body, even as they burned and blistered with the effort. “Bloody…fuck!” he exploded, his gravely voice wracked with agony.

“Leave them alone,” Good Willow begged, and Buffy had to roll her eyes though they ached in their sockets. The depressing pressure on her chest immediately lifted, however, and she wondered if maybe the good witch could actually get through to the bad.

“Awwwwwww, webe them awone,” the evil redhead taunted. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” She laughed and the unhinged sound echoed into the street. Her eyes narrowed into blackened slits so that nothing but evil shone through as she glared at her twin. “You are obviously unable to handle real power,” she accused, hatred and disgust for the identical witch evident to even the dumbest observer.

“W-well, as it happens, you’re wrong. I can handle power just fine—I just don’t like to when its source is evil.” Willow stood back pouting, clearly unknowing what to do in this situation. She had half a mind to duel herself to sense but something told her that wasn’t going to work. This Willow had been alone, drifting in the world for too long. She had not started her slide into the darker side of magic out of curiosity—she’d not been seduced by the power slowly. She’d been changed by it for a long time now—seeking vengeance for those she’d loved and lost. Maybe if someone had been left to guide her onto the right track a year ago, there might have been hope. Now Willow saw nothing in her counterpart’s expression but cold, oozing hatred for the fighters of the balance. She wasn’t motivated any longer by trying to do good in the world—whether the notion was misguided or not. She wasn’t reacting to the pain of humanity or the hopelessness that dwelled in every beating heart.

“You’re weak,” spat evil Willow contemptuously and good Willow shrunk back in offence. “You are weak and pathetic and it would really be better for you all if you just open up a portal and take your equally pathetic friends home.”

Alarm and hope spread through all of them at the implication. She was scared to kill those not from her world, still unsure what kind of impact it would have on her own.

Buffy dragged herself to Spike and touched him desperately, eager to make sure he was okay and only singed on the outside rather than burning up from the inside yet again. She hadn’t skipped through worlds to lose him now and as much as she didn’t want to kill Willow—any Willow—she wasn’t going to risk all of their lives for a lunatic witch high on her own abilities.

Energy crackled in the air and frightened, veteran eyes zeroed in on the powered-up witch. A storm was gathering around her, making her untouchable and dangerous. She floated menacingly on the angry currents of her own making and her hair fanned out in the violent wind that whipped up out of nowhere. Buffy could see her own red-headed friend shrink back in horror and knew that confronting what she’d done not long enough ago was too taxing for the reformed witch. Liz and Will stumbled ahead, trying to reach the black-eyed witch who was gunning for their lives and being thrown around like a couple of wet dishrags for their trouble. Both fighters were bruised and bleeding and yet a matching determination inspired them to continue. Buffy wondered why the witch hadn’t just struck them down permanently and been done with it.

In her gut, Buffy knew it was almost over. This world’s Willow’s unsteady façade, barely kept in place normally, was now slipping low and the Slayer recognised that the end was so very close. She gasped as once again Liz crawled her way to her feet, furious determination spurring her forward. Willow didn’t throw her back immediately, allowing her progress to be sure and deadly. The redhead’s blackened eyes glinted with dull light reflected from her sparking fingers, her lips twisted in a caricature of a smile that chilled Buffy’s blood.

She remembered this—diving for Willow, desperate to stop her before she tried to turn Dawn into formless energy, the Magic Box into rubble and Anya into steaming demon refuse. Buffy had failed—she wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, or just plain enough to stop Willow. Slayers weren’t meant to combat magic—and slayer’s friends weren’t supposed to lose it and defect to the other side.

With pain she wished she didn’t have to bear, Buffy watched as Liz crumbled to her knees, the witch magically strangling her throat and laughing at the screams and curses coming from the girl’s vampire. Tears tracked down Buffy’s cheeks, her gaze fixated on what had once been her in her own world—her best friend intent on leaving her dead.

“Noooooooooo!”

The objection came from everywhere, and then a tremendous bang ripped through the chaos and blood gurgled at Willow’s mouth, leaking slowly from the corners of her lips. Losing focus, Liz dropped and the witch peered down to stare in shock at the big hole in her chest. Her magic fumbled some more, the storm dissipating around them as she was abruptly dropped to the ground. Shock held everyone still, except for Will who had rushed forward and was now carrying Liz away from the fray. Yet relief won the day and the crowd surged forward to be sure. To see it for themselves.

“Oh God,” Willow muttered, her voice choked with horror. “Th-that’s what I look like dead?”

“Be thankful you’ve still got muscle tone,” Buffy hissed, finding the emotion bunching in her throat too much.

Maggie Walsh stepped forward, her hand shaking around the outstretched gun. “Nobody move,” she ordered, and nobody did. The professor looked down at the girl she’d liked—before she’d tried to force her way into the middle of things she didn’t understand. No, it was better like this. She just had to help Riley accept it.

Hard eyes flitted back to Buffy, a look of opportunity suddenly blooming on her face. “You’re the Slayer,” she confirmed for herself, but before she could process anything else, a black blur was in her face and the gun torn from her hands.

“Don’t go pointing bloody guns at her, you psychotic bitch.” Spike struck her temple with his fist and the teacher went down, her body apparently boneless as she hit the ground.

Now that the action had passed, the air was filled with stunned silence.

“Well,” started Giles, and then he stopped because he couldn’t think of one more thing to add.

“You know, home’s looking kind of good right now. I like our apocalypses so much better than the ones in this world.” And as Xander tried to turn away from the image of Willow dead on the ground, he accepted the shuddering body of the one that still lived. She gripped his hand tightly and Xander held her against his body, rocking her in a reassuring hug.

Willow gave into the warmth of Xander’s comfort and cried.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The wicked witch was dead.

The finality of her situation slammed into Liz with a thud. Willow was gone. Dead. She thought she should feel relief but the only emotion swirling in her gut was remorse. Failure so strong threatened to drive her to her knees and Liz fought hard the desire to run—to get away from all these people who hadn’t failed their Willow—when she’d been the biggest failure of all.

She was humiliated and alone. Despite all those who surrounded her, murmured condolences and self-righteous words of forgiveness, Liz was alone, and it hurt more than any gaping wound could have.

And she was lost. Wandering between the beige walls of her house did nothing to stay the ferocious beat of her heart. Her last remaining friend was dead and Liz had failed her stupendously—and what’s more, for months she hadn’t even cared. Apathy had robbed her of the will to fight the inevitable. There’d been opportunities, surely, where Willow had been touchable.

“There was nothing you could have done.”

The quiet voice that had snuck up behind her made Liz want to scream. It seemed doubly wrong that not only was Willow face up in a morgue, but that the good version of the woman sharing her face was alive and well, whispering condolences in the empty spaces of Liz’s house. Deep down she knew that seeing her double being shot in the heart hadn’t been a wonderful experience for the witch, but Liz found it hard to care right now. Everything that had been holding her back was gone, and instead of feeling euphoric and in the mood to celebrate, she couldn’t push away this twinge in her throat that was making her want to cry.

Her heart felt heavy with uselessness, but as she struggled to bite off a retort to the witch she couldn’t bear to look at, Liz felt the talisman burn in her pocket. Funny how she hadn’t had the heart to take it from her body now that she knew her secret friend was no longer secret—or far away. It gave her comfort to feel the tingle of his presence—she recognised it now. When he was close it burned soothingly into her skin and it was the only time in the last few hours when Liz had felt close to calm.

He hadn’t approached her yet. His distance was making her almost as crazy as this overwhelming guilt was. Liz sucked in a harsh breath and forced herself to look at the surviving Willow.

“You know, in my head I know that. I do. It’s just—” She couldn’t explain this ache that had settled deep inside her.

“You miss the girl who used to be your friend.” Willow smiled sadly and Liz felt a consuming urge to smite her where she stood. She hated that the redhead was right.

Nodding against the tide of emotion ignoring her command for control, Liz crumbled at last, tears drenching her cheeks and sobs tearing at her throat. “Why did she have to change?” Strong arms enveloped her and Liz didn’t need the talisman to know it was Will. She didn’t need anything to tell her how right it was that she still had him to fall on when things became too much.

Willow’s quiet steps moved away and Liz gave in to the support of Will’s body, glad she’d listened to Buffy and not pushed him away completely. There was so much ground still to cover—so much about him still to discover. What she’d seen established between the other slayer and vampire still chilled her, but Liz refused to see that kind of relationship as inevitable. Refused to consider it an impossibility either. She wanted to be open-minded but above all, she wanted to be true. To herself and to Will.

Eyes glistening with grief, she pulled slowly from Will’s chest and gave him a watery smile of gratitude. “Thanks. It’s been an…interesting day.”

“Not quite the word I’d use, pet. Still, it’s over now, yeah? No more looking over your shoulder for when your friend’s gonna bury a hatchet in your back.” Concise and to the point—Liz had to admire that.

“Is everyone ready to go?”

Will stood back and contemplated her with his head tilted to the side. “You think you might miss all the activity around here?”

Liz shook her head fast. “No way. I am so ready to have my house back.”

He looked disappointed and Liz knew she was going to have to address this soon. She’d already planned on having him stay—not just in Sunnydale but in her house as well. It had been lonely enough with Willow there, but to be on her own completely, it wasn’t a situation she thought she’d enjoy. There’d be time to ask him when everyone else had gone.

A little imp on her shoulder goaded her into moving forward and some tightness in her chest shifted as her lips felt the smooth plain of his cheek as she kissed it. “First things first,” she promised and then took his hand gently, tugging him toward Buffy and the crowd preparing to open another portal in her house.

Willow’s cheeks were wet as she gathered her magical paraphernalia and Liz looked to Buffy, her brow quirked in question.

“She just said goodbye to Oz,” the Slayer mouthed, not wanting to distract the witch now that she was focused on getting them home. “Look,” she started out loud, “there’s some things you should think about doing because you can totally trust Riley to take care of the Initiative issue now that Maggie’s been arrested for murder. Spike and I sorted him out and he knows all about Adam and what to say during the investigation into the project. Firstly, my mom died of an aneurism. You might want to get back in touch with yours—maybe she’ll even want to move back in. Secondly, you need a watcher. I wouldn’t recommend contacting the Council—maybe you should try and find Wes. Maybe he’s ready to help you now? Third—jobs in fast food are hell on your hair and your clothes—”

“You’ll never get the smell of bloody grease out,” Spike agreed, wrapping his uninjured arm around his slayer.

Buffy peered up at him with adoration glaringly obvious for all in the room to see and sighed. Then, as she opened her mouth to depart with more of her hard-won wisdom, Dawn stepped up to the plate and threw her arms around Liz.

“The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Someone very wise—though deeply deluded—told me that once.” With tears in her eyes and a proud look on her face as she turned back to her sister, she stepped away.

Everyone was either wiping away a tear or in trouble of blubbering on the spot when Willow’s spell worked and a portal miraculously opened in Liz’s living room. Angel hobbled toward it, throwing a quick wave over his shoulder as he hurried through, Giles and Xander next. Dawn kissed Liz and Will on their cheeks and then raced on through, leaving Buffy and Spike to watch the images of themselves as they were beginning their extraordinary path.

“Be happy,” Buffy ordered, and then she was gone, pulling Spike’s arm and snagging Willow on the way through.

The otherworldly light flickered out and Liz was alone in her house—alone with a vampire she’d once feared and now admired.

There was a whole world waiting at her fingertips.

Oh My God!! It's finally all done.

I need to take this opportunity to shout out some thank yous. First of all, massive hugs to skybound2 for contributing the most wonderful banner and story specs I could have had. I really hope that you've enjoyed reading it. Thank you also to spuffy_haven for hosting the competition.

I am of course indebted as always to my wonderful betas, each of them contributing something different and hopefully all teaching me better ways to express myself. hollydb, slackerace and schehrezade_1--you are all three infinitely fabulous and I'd be lost without you.

Lastly, thank you all who have read this and even more to those that left me feedback. I know I don't always get back to you but everything you say means so very much. Now, for the final curtain.



Epilogue

“Oh. My. God. Did you have to cut off its head like that?” Buffy stood completely covered in yellow slime, her hair plastered to her face, her body shuddering with revulsion.

“But, pet,” Spike gasped as laughter fought his words. “You look bloody priceless.”

Buffy glared before swooping down on one of the mutilated appendages of the thing she’d spent the better part of forty minutes fighting and proceeded to club Spike about the head with it. “You are far from funny, vampire!”

Spike snorted loudly, then tripped backwards over the corpse, laughing even as his head struck the ground. “Don’t…need to…be….luv. You’re bleeding hilarious enough without me.”

Eyes narrowed dangerously, Buffy stomped on Spike’s fingers and left, strutting up the path that led to the cemetery gates and beyond it to home.

“Damn irritating pig,” she muttered furiously.

“Oh come on, Buffy,” he whined, and the Slayer melted. She couldn’t help it. Every time he used his voice like that she was like putty in his hands, even when the tone betrayed frustration.

“Come on what? I wore my best pants tonight!” she pointed out, her voice adopting that annoying wobble it did when she was doing her best not to cry. “We were going out—somewhere special, you said. Now everything is ruined.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Spike hazarded a step toward her and cupped her chin, that mouth-watering soft look glazing his eyes. “We’ll get you all cleaned up and everything will be fine.”

Buffy was suddenly wondering what would be fine. Her brain was caught on the promise of getting ‘all cleaned up’ and hoping Spike was bringing the rubber ducky and a sponge to this impromptu play-date.

“Do we need to go out?” she wheedled, and the grin he treated her to was so hot she burned.

“Not at all,” he promised, putting on a burst of speed to get her home all the quicker.
He ploughed through the front door as if it was invisible and Buffy giggled as she was dragged up the stairs. He shoved her under the needle-like cold spray of the shower, using his hands to scrape as much of the goop off as he could. “Hot water makes stuff shrink, yeah?”

“I’m not worried. Cold water would so not be most men’s friend. You, though, are the exception to the rule,” she teased with a saucy wink. “Besides,” she added balefully, “I think the leather’s history no matter which way you look at it.” Still, hot water might have made the pants impossible to be shimmied out of.

“Good thing your mum’s off visiting your aunt for Thanksgiving. Your slime-covered self might have scared her witless,” the vampire kidded as his hands worked through her revolting, tangled hair with a spontaneous shampoo.

“And you molesting her daughter wouldn’t have shocked her at all,” Buffy returned in an identical tease.

He stripped her and it felt like magic had returned to her house. His hands swept over her skin and Buffy sighed.

“I love you, you know.”

It had taken a year for her to realise it, but once she had Buffy could have kicked herself for being so stubborn. She’d seen the love that could exist between them with her own eyes but she’d been too young—too scared or too stupid—to accept it for the gift it was.

“An’ I love you too, you deranged bint.”

Buffy giggled. Once upon a time she’d have been offended by Spike’s long list of British profanities, but now she found them almost endearing. Her eyes danced as she turned to face him, pouting distractedly at his unclothed form.

“Can we have the warm water now?” Buffy asked hopefully, her skin covered in goosepimples.

“We can have anything you want now, Princess,” he said, bending forward to kiss her gently. Buffy curled her fingers in his hair, loving the feel of his slicked-down curls as she unruffled them.

“Have I told you how glad I am the Powers made you my talisman buddy?” she whispered, overcome with emotion for this vampire in her arms.

“Only every time I make you come screaming.” He nibbled at her lips as his hands massaged her rump.

“You are so bad,” Buffy approved as she curled her naked body tighter against his. “Hey…do you think there’s some way we can get in touch with Otherworld Buffy and tell her we did like she ordered?”

Spike looked at her in wonder. “Not that one of that bunch won’t be back for a visit again soon—took us a bleeding month to force Harris back after his last visit—but what was it exactly she ordered us to do?”

Buffy looked deeply into her boyfriend’s eyes and knew that whatever happened, it was true. She was in the place she belonged and she never planned to leave.

“To be happy.”

He smiled indulgently. That was exactly what they were.




A/N It seems I can’t post this so far as is because it’s under the word limit, so I’m just going to add a little bit of waffle here at the end. Um…thank you all again, and be on the look out for a new two part fic from me shortly. I plan to now go and complete Will To Love before I start on a fic for seasonal_spuffy.

Okay, got the word limit now. Bye!

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