New beginnings

Chapter 12


A/N: In this chapter I’ve borrowed one line from the episode ‘Chosen’. There’s a chocolate covered Spike (in your dreams) for the first person who correctly identifies it.

Spike strolled among the racks and shelves of clothing, picking a garment out here and there and passing them to the flustered assistant who was shadowing him ready to leap into action when he demanded a different colour or another size. The prospect of a handsome commission lent her the courage to be very attentive to the intimidating young man who appeared to be so intent upon spending a small fortune on his girlfriend and her sister.


The previous evening he had been in the shower when he had crashed from his Slayer blood high and the exhaustion induced by the withdrawal of the emerald sword’s power had hit him afresh. He had just managed to dry himself, stumble into the bedroom and crawl into bed. He hadn’t even woken when Buffy had joined him, only stirring when the buzzer on her alarm had sounded and she had got up to get Dawn off to school.


When both Dawn and Tara had headed off to pick up their interrupted educations she had come back to bed smelling of toothpaste, bacon, pancakes and oranges, and had handed him the fat envelope Giles had left for him the night before when he had recovered from the bump on his head sufficiently to remember he had it in his pocket. Spike had been stunned to find a thick bundle of banknotes and several cheques, the proceeds of the sale of some of his trinkets and books.


They had spent the morning in bed dozing and talking. They had shared secrets and kisses and made plans, occasionally breaking off to make slow leisurely love, revelling in the rare opportunity to relax and just be together.


Buffy’s stomach had eventually drawn her from their comfy nest with its demands to be filled. They had showered and dressed and raided the kitchen, then Buffy had dragged him down to the basement to help her pick one of his Persian rugs to cover the scorched patch on the living room floor.


They had selected a large cream rug with an intricate design in deep chocolate brown, warm golden yellows and rich reds and lugged it up the basement steps and spread it out. He had watched Buffy with fond amusement as she contemplated the stained walls and ceiling and charred and smelly soft furnishings and made lists of jobs to be done and replacement furniture and accessories to be purchased. She was in her element, excited at the prospect of a mammoth shopping spree, although that didn’t prevent her from grumbling about Willow’s actions that had caused the unexpected expense and wondering what she would have done if the Council hadn’t relented and awarded her an allowance.


Then she had lifted the manhole cover on the corner and held it for him as he held his ratty old blanket over his head to do his customary race against the sun to get to the sewers. They had met up at the mall and she had stood beside him as he had opened his new bank account using the papers Angel had provided to establish his identity and the cheques from Giles as an opening deposit. He had kept the bundle of cash in his pocket for immediate use while he waited for his new cheque book and credit card to be issued. He had some plans that Buffy knew nothing about.


They had wandered around the mall for a while, commenting upon the various displays until Spike became antsy at such a cosy domestic pastime, despite being quietly thrilled that she was inviting his opinion at all. Eventually they had agreed that Dawn should be consulted before any decisions were made.


When at last Buffy had gone to collect her sister from school, intending to take her straight back to the mall with her, Spike had headed off on his own which was how he found himself deep in discussion with the assistant in the small out of the way establishment called ‘Leather & Lace’. As he made his selections his head was still reeling from the discovery of just how much money he now had at his disposal.


Almost as an afterthought he picked out a few items for himself and made his way to the checkout where he was handed the overwhelmed assistant’s card, ‘just in case your girlfriend needs to exchange anything’. As he pocketed it he absently noticed she had pencilled her home phone number on the back and smirked in purely masculine satisfaction.


He made three more stops then laden with more bags than he could easily carry he trudged down to the mall’s basement and through the convenient access hatch to the sewers wishing he’d taken the DeSoto instead of walking. He had to make three hazardous trips from the manhole in Revello to get all his purchases to the house then he put away his own new things and placed all the bags of clothing he’d chosen for Buffy on their bed for her to find when she got in. After a moment’s consideration he carefully laid out the outfit he’d selected for her to wear to the Scooby meeting. She didn’t know it yet, but he intended tonight to be her first lesson on his motorbike.


He then went and put the things he’d got for Dawn on her bed and heated and quickly drank a mug of blood. Bemoaning the state of the TV which meant he had to find another way of passing the time he settled down in the one remaining comfy chair with one of his new books and a mug of hot chocolate to wait for his girls to get home.

******

Spike sat astride his motorbike outside the Summers residence waiting for Buffy to emerge. He held a brand new helmet in each hand, plain black for himself and bright metallic gold for his Slayer. He would have preferred to go without as usual, but the intercoms only worked when you wore the helmets and Buffy would need to be able to hear his voice over the noise of the engine as he coached her through her first few lessons.


He had laid an attractive metallic lilac one on Dawn’s bed together with sturdy leather jeans, co-ordinating jacket and thick leather gloves in preparation for when she would ride with either Buffy or himself. That old football helmet was too small for her really, and not altogether effective.


The one clear revelation the events of the past few days had given him was that his only purpose for the remainder of his unlife was to look after his two girls, and he intended to do his utmost to make sure that nothing, absolutely nothing, whether supernatural or mundane, could harm either of them.


He frowned slightly as he felt Buffy’s irritation, and wondered what had upset her. Had he bought something the wrong size? The wrong colour? An unflattering style? Or was she just annoyed that he’d bought her clothes at all?


She hadn’t had a chance to go upstairs to discover her new things before he had announced it was time to leave and had gone out to prepare the bike. It had been sunset by the time she had arrived home in a heavily laden cab. He had been recruited to help carry all her purchases in, including four large very brightly coloured beanbags she’d picked to make do until the chesterfields that she had ordered could be delivered in a couple of weeks, along with the new coffee table.


There had been paint colour charts and fabric swatches, cushions, throws and lamps too. Buffy had explained they had eaten at the mall and then she’d dropped Dawn off at the Magic Box where she was still undergoing penance to Anya for her light-fingered antics, and also so that Fred could help her with some homework since she had so much catching up to do.


He heard the front door open at last and looked up to see Buffy coming out. He frowned in displeasure. She was wearing a long narrow blue denim skirt and that revolting mustard yellow coat which still carried with it the ghost of Doublemeat grease. He wondered how she could bear to wear it now her sense of smell had been enhanced and impulsively decided to try to think of a way to lose it. Soon.


She came striding down the path pulling on a pair of knitted gloves as she berated him, “I love all the leather and pretties, Spike, but I can’t believe you think you have the right to decide what I’m going to wear, and I don’t understand why we have to leave so early. The meeting’s not ‘til...” She suddenly took in his appearance and came to a halt, breaking off in confusion. He held up the two helmets, cocked his head to one side and shrugged. Buffy gaped for a second in comprehension and then she gabbled excitedly, “Oh! I… I didn’t realise… Um… I’m just gonna run inside and change…” She turned and dashed back to the house, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll just be a minute!”


Spike shook his head and sighed resignedly, set the helmets on the ground, took his half-read paperback from his coat pocket and settled in for a lengthy wait. He very much doubted whether Buffy was familiar with the phenomenon known as a ‘quick change’.

******

“Just to recap, then. Left foot?”

“Gear thingy.”

“And what order do the gears come in?”

“Down from neutral for first, up two clunks for second, then up and up and up. Don’t forget to set it back in neutral when we stop.”

“Good. Left hand?”

“Clutch lever? Um… press clutch, flip gear, release clutch.”

“Right. Right hand?”

“Twist handlebar thingy down towards me to go faster, lever is the clu… No, that one’s the front brake.”

“Yeah! Now then, right foot?”

“Oh… um… oh yeah. That little thingy by my toe is the back brake… right?”


****

“Um… now what?”

“Turn the lights on. This little switch here.”

“But I can see just fine!”

“I know you can, Slayer, so can I. The lights aren’t so much so you can see where you’re going, they’re so all the other bloody idiots on the road can see you!”

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess.”


****


“We’ll try a few slow starts and stops to begin with. Keep your feet just a few inches off the ground except for when you have to change gear. Now…. Kick the stand up with your heel… get a feel for the weight of the bike and get balanced… clutch… into first… release the clutch… slooooowly… and twist the throttle…. Aargh! GENTLY Slayer!”


****


“Ew… ick! Spike, I think I just swallowed a fly! Yuk! Ew ikky yuk gross!”

“Better keep yer luscious gob shut unless you need to say something then, Slayer!”


****


“Car! Car! Aaaaaargh! Don’t look down at your feet, Slayer! You need to get used to changing gear by feel! Keep your pretty eyes on the road, yeah?”

“But there’s so much to remember! I can’t help it if I forgot to steer!”


****


“Try to think of the bike as a weapon, Slayer. Let your senses guide you, try to treat it as if it’s an extension of your body.”


“May the force be with me… Oh God! It must be an apocalypse! I’m channelling Xander!”


****


“We gotta turn here, right? Let yourself slow down naturally by releasing the throttle first... Change down… Slow down! No Buffy! Don’t brake as you go around the corner or your rear wheel will…… Shiiiiiit!”


****


“Right… we’re nearly there. Now we’ve got a long straight road until we need to turn off Main Street to get to the Magic Box. Change up… and watch out for other traffic and pedestrians, here’s where it might start getting busy.”


****


“Bloody Hell, Slayer! Gonna get yourself arrested before you even get your licence! For pity’s sake slow down, woman!”


******

Spike walked into the Magic Box in a numb daze. His hands were actually shaking. Buffy was practically dancing in front of him. She had taken her helmet off and was shaking her hair out as she stuffed her gloves into it. Her eyes sparkled and her face was flushed with excitement as she babbled, “Oh I just gotta get myself one of those! It was great! All throbbing power and speed and why did nobody tell me how wonderful motorbikes were before? I could have been whizzing around town ages ago instead of walking or running everywhere! I’ll need one of those pannier thingies to keep some weapons in, but just think how fast I can catch up with the baddies with my own wheels!”


Spike gulped. He looked around at all the smiling faces turned to Buffy and took in all the enthusiastic welcomes. He shook his head in resignation. They simply couldn’t have taken in the ramifications yet. He mooched over to the ladder to the balcony and took his usual place.


Giles noticed his unusual subdued silence and edged over to him. “What’s up with you, man? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”


Spike sighed deeply and mournfully declared, “I’ve created a monster.”


The Watcher looked puzzled. “Huh?”


Spike turned plaintive eyes up at him and whined, “It was fine for the first few minutes… she was gradually getting the hang of the bike… then something clicked and she got the taste for speed. Didn’t you hear us? She insisted on driving up and down Main Street three soddin’ times before we got here… she got up to a ton the third time! Nothing and nobody’s gonna be safe from her!” He glanced over to where Buffy was showing off her new leathers and shiny helmet to Dawn, Fred and Anya and babbling about getting cool sunglasses and the exciting prospect of buying a motorcycle of her own. He whimpered, “I need a drink.”


To his astonishment Giles furtively produced a bottle and a couple of glasses from behind a big fat book and poured each of them a shot of a rather decent single malt. When he’d thrown his drink back the Watcher nudged Spike’s shoulder with his elbow and murmured, “Look at her, you pillock. Really look. Her enthusiasm for life has been rekindled at last, she’s practically bouncing. Considering what she’s been through the past few years, particularly the difficulties she’s had adjusting since her resurrection, that’s a real achievement. Much as I hate to admit it, you did that, Spike. Having her turn into a leather-clad demon biker chick as a result is a small price to pay.”


Spike regarded Buffy with fresh eyes. She was smiling. No, not just smiling, she was grinning. A relaxed unaffected natural grin, not one of those brittle too wide ‘putting on a happy mask’ grins she’d been wearing so much for the past few months. She was radiant with life. She was… effulgent. He smiled at the realisation. He looked pointedly down into his empty glass then raised wide innocent eyes to Giles and suggested, “I’ll drink to that!”


Giles chuckled and poured him another drink, then turning serious as he tucked the bottle away again he pointed out, “Buffy will need to take the exam to get her instruction permit so she can apply for a licence and take her test, Spike. And she’ll have to have some lessons during the day to get some experience in traffic. I can help her arrange all that.”

******

“Can’t we start now, Giles? It’s gone eight!” Buffy’s voice was a millimetre away from being a childish whine.


“Willow hasn’t arrived yet, Buffy. You specifically asked for her to be here and Althanea assured me she would allow her to attend. Angel and Charles haven’t arrived yet either. It’s not that late, I think we can afford to wait a few more minutes.”


Spike was curious to meet the woman Giles spoke of so respectfully and wondered whether she would truly be able to help the impetuous young redhead learn respect for her magic. He wouldn’t mind seeing Gunn again, but he didn’t care if Angel never turned up.


Anya, Tara, Dawn and Fred sat chattering animatedly at the round research table which had at its centre the obligatory box of assorted doughnuts. Tara and Dawn had given up trying to find the demons they’d encountered in the reference books so Tara was busy drawing the two species of demon that lived in the caves while Dawn tried to produce a likeness of the dragon. Xander had perched himself on the steps to the front part of the shop and Giles was pottering about behind the counter waiting impatiently to learn what had gone wrong with his supposed ‘safe test’, his journal and pen laid out ready. Buffy was perched between Spike’s legs on a lower rung of the ladder absently fiddling with his bootlaces, as he played with her hair.


At last the bell jangled and Willow entered. There wasn’t a hint of her usual perky enthusiasm in the subdued young woman’s demeanour. Her eyes were downcast and it was as if she was trying to hide in the shadows and remain unnoticed until a woman followed her in and closed the door behind her. “Come, Willow.” She said in a firm but gentle contralto voice. “Say hello to your friends and take a seat.”


Althanea stood tall and straight in a pair of faded blue jeans, a black t-shirt with the words ‘I’ve danced with the devil in the pale moonlight’ scrawled in scarlet across her full breasts and a hip-length black jacket knitted in intricate open lacework with a shawl collar and asymmetrical hem. On her feet she wore rather gaudy fringed tan suede cowboy boots which lent another three inches to her already imposing figure. She carried a huge red leather handbag with the ends of bright yellow knitting needles poking out of the corner, and a heavy gold charm bracelet jangled on her left wrist as she moved.


Despite her quirky mode of dress she exuded a sense of easy authority. Her hair was pinned away from her face but it flowed in shimmering waves down her broad back to her wide motherly hips in a silky waterfall of rich auburn streaked generously with snowy white. She could have been any age between forty and seventy, it was impossible to tell.


This was a woman who could never go unremarked. Her natural air of gravitas demanded respect and courtesy, while her full rosy cheeks, her open friendly smile, the twinkle of mischief in her warm brown eyes and the freckles and laughter lines surrounding them encouraged trust and affection.


Willow scuttled into the shop to sit on the step beside Xander, wiggle her fingers in a tentative wave to her friends and gaze adoringly at Tara, who after an initial hesitant smile refused to meet her eyes. Willow transferred her regard to Buffy who scowled at her, causing her to drop her eyes guiltily and minutely examine her shoes.


Althanea smiled warmly at Giles, “I hope you don’t mind me accompanying Willow, Ripper? Since you meet in a venue so steeped in magics I didn’t feel it wise for her to be here unsupervised.”


While Giles murmured a welcome and quietly urged her not to call him ‘Ripper’ he tried to usher her towards the research table and the seat that a wide eyed Tara had hastily vacated for her. Althanea effortlessly evaded him however, and made directly for Buffy and Spike. Buffy automatically stood in respect, and Spike hopped down from the ladder to stand at Buffy’s back, splaying a protective hand on her belly as she absently leant back against him.


“This must be your Slayer, Ripper. Such a tiny vessel to hold so much power and such a boundless wealth of love.” She tenderly cupped Buffy’s cheek in a large well manicured hand and crooned, “Oh you poor child, such pain you’ve known. Such admirable strength...”


She transferred her piercing gaze to Spike, who found himself unaccountably intimidated. Apart from anything else he wasn’t accustomed to having to look nearly six inches up into a woman’s face. “And you must be William.”


She ignored his protest, “It’s Spike!”


“Ripper has told me about you. Remarkable. Quite remarkable.” Spike felt a warm pressure and looked down to find he was shaking hands with her. His eyebrows went up in astonishment, how had that happened?


Leaving two speechless blonds gaping after her she turned back to the table and settled in, exclaiming in girlish glee, “Ooh doughnuts! I really shouldn’t…” and immediately pounced on a caramel kreme crunch, sinking her impressively white teeth into it with a moan of pleasure prompting everyone to smile and dive in to find their own favourite.


With the ice broken with such masterful ease, Giles indicated that Buffy should begin her story. “I don’t think we need to wait any longer for Angel and Charles, they’ll just have to pick up the narrative when they arrive.”

******

“So you’re saying it was the breaking of the Mating Bond that prompted you to follow Spike into the portal, Buffy?”


“Yes, Giles. I was all PanickyBuffy. I’m so sorry. You have no idea what it’s like having a constant loving presence in the back of your mind. Even when you’re not consciously thinking about it it’s just… there. It’s so comforting. When it snapped off I felt so alone. I was only half of me.” She shuddered and clutched anxiously at her vampire’s hand that was resting on her shoulder. “I thought something terrible had happened to Spike and instinctively tried to find him. It won’t happen again, I promise. Now I know what to expect I’ll be prepared and I’ll be able to endure the isolation until he pops back. We still don’t really know how that’s supposed to happen, do we? Perhaps we need another test? One that I won’t screw up?”


Giles gave his glasses their traditional polish as he considered. “Yes, I think perhaps we do, Buffy. This is exactly the kind of problem that the test run was designed to reveal. Although, to look on the bright side, while your Bond disrupted this experiment it has shown us a way of being aware when Spike has come back home after Dawn’s created portals in the future. You’ll be able to feel him return to you. I don’t think we should rush into anything though. For one thing you can’t be expected to suffer the required blood loss too frequently, and for another I think we need to rethink the dimension we use as a test target.” He examined the drawings Tara and Dawn had produced. “I’m not familiar with any of these species of demon.” He passed the sheets of paper to Anya. “How about you, Anya my dear, do you recognise them?”


Before Anya was able to answer the shop door crashed open and a very flustered Angel appeared clutching in his good hand a child’s car seat containing a wailing baby. He cradled his other hand, which was swathed in bandages, to his chest. He gasped desperately, “I’m sorry we’re late, Giles. Connor just won’t settle…”


Gunn followed him in and quietly closed the door behind them. He wearily added, “It’s been non-stop crying for the past hour. Nothing, but nothing works…”


Althanea looked up from her intricate knitting project. “Oh the poor lamb… here… give him to me.” She dumped her work on the table perilously close to the sticky doughnut box, and held out her arms.


Gunn extricated Angel’s red faced son from his seat and passed him over. Within seconds the wailing had stopped and was replaced by a contented cooing, then after a few hiccups and a resounding burp Connor heaved a shuddering sigh and went to sleep.


Althanea beamed around at all the amused faces. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s just a knack I have. I love babies and they love me. I suppose it comes from having had six of my own. Now… who’s going to take this darling little man so I can get on with my knitting?” She looked up to the silent figure standing behind her. “Tara my dear, I think you should hold him. He likes you, I can tell. He senses that core of inner strength you try to conceal with your self-effacing behaviour. Your serenity makes him feel safe.”


Dawn jumped up to let a flushed Tara take her chair and Connor was passed over. He didn’t as much as twitch at the transfer. While Tara got comfortable, Althanea picked up her knitting, sorted out her fine black yarn which had got a bit tangled with her bracelet and resumed her project, glancing briefly at the pattern beside her on the table to check her place in the complex lacy garment. When Xander chuckled at her she didn’t even look up, she just said, “Don’t think I’m ignoring you, young man. I know exactly what you’re all doing and I’m taking in every word. I’m just like Miss Marple, my knitting helps me concentrate.”


Dawn went and hopped up to sit on the counter while Gunn sat on the steps with Xander and Willow, and Angel went to lean against the counter beside Dawn, who scowled at him and edged as far away from him as she could, coming to rest next to the cash register. Angel glared irritably at Spike when he registered his presence and his proximity to Buffy.


Anya looked around impatiently, waiting for everyone to settle down so she could answer Giles’ question, but she was forestalled by Angel’s sulky query as he pointed to Spike, “What’s he doing here?”


Buffy shook her head in exasperation. “He’s here because he’s part of this, Angel. You do remember his part in the Portal prophecy don’t you?” She shrugged and squeezed Spike’s hand fondly, “Besides, even if his presence wasn’t vital as Dawn’s Protector, Spike would be part of the group now he’s with me.”


Angel shook his head despairingly and muttered, “I still can’t believe you’d enter into a genuine relationship with him, Buffy… an Eternal Claim... it’s just not right…”


Giles huffed impatiently, “Oh for heavens sake, man. It was your idea Spike should claim Buffy in the first place. We’ve all accepted it, and you can see Buffy is happy with the situation. Pull yourself together and get over it. We need to get on with the meeting. We still have a lot to cover!”


Angel just couldn’t let it rest. He whined petulantly, “I can’t believe I’m getting the brush-off for Captain Peroxide.”


Buffy sighed irritably, “I’m not ‘brushing you off’, Angel. We’ve been through this. You left me! We couldn’t risk having sex again and you didn’t love me enough to stay and try to find a way to fix your soul so we could. You gave up on me. I moved on. If you can’t accept that... well, that’s your problem.


“But… You moved on to Spike! We’re soulmates, Buffy! I always hoped that one day…”


Willow held up a shaky finger to attract everyone’s attention “Um… Sorry, but not so much.”


Giles asked, “What do you mean, Willow?”


The redhead looked apprehensively up at her mentor. Without taking her eyes from her needles, Althanea quietly urged her, “Yes, go on my dear.”


“Well… you see… as part of my ‘do all the required research for the spell you’re about to do and consider all the consequences first and only do it at all if you’re absolutely certain it’s essential and can’t possibly harm anyone and never do it unless you’ve consulted everyone involved’ therapy, for the past week I’ve been researching a way to give back Spike his soul as he asked, without any trick clauses and without sending him loopy.” She looked nervously up at the dark vampire. “The gypsy curse I used when you went… that is when Buffy… um… to give you back your soul, Angel, was the only comparable spell we have to go on, so I’ve made a start by analysing that. You see… It turns out the spell Miss Calendar translated was the original vengeance curse that Anya’s friend Edielle got from D’Hoffryn…”


Angel broke in, asking, “D’Hoffryn?”


Willow sighed, “Oh... long story…”


Anya explained in a businesslike voice, “My old boss. He provided my friend Edielle with the vengeance curse for the gypsies to use.”


Xander smiled and nudged Willow, “Apparently not that long…”


Anya continued, “He allowed me to check his records as a favour. I hope you’re suitably grateful because now I owe him a favour, and that’s not a very comfortable position for me to be in.”


“Anyway… when I did the curse I used that spell, the original one, and gave Angel back his own… that is Liam’s… soul.” Willow looked up at Angel again. “The thing is… that wasn’t the first soul you had. The gypsies tweaked the curse Edielle supplied to give you the soul of the gypsy girl… your victim… instead.” She turned to Buffy and grimaced in sympathy. “So I’m afraid the soul you felt the mystical connection with when you first fell in love with Angel, Buffy…”


Anya smugly finished for her. “…Was the soul of a fourteen year old Romanian Potential Slayer… it was her Slayerness you connected with,” She sneered as she pointed at Angel, “Nothing to do with him at all.”


Willow became sadly apologetic as she addressed an ashen Buffy, who was hanging onto Spike’s hand as if for dear life. “Angel didn’t have time to get used to Liam’s soul before… um... So after spending all that time in Hell, by the time he got zapped back all crazy and ggrrr I doubt he noticed the difference...”


Spike squeezed Buffy’s shoulder gently and sucked his teeth as he regarded his grandsire thoughtfully. He mused, “That might explain a lot, you know. Those soddin’ lawyers… sacking all your minions… shagging that diseased bitch Darla. I doubt the old self-righteous Angel would have done any of that. Now that drunken wastrel Liam, on the other hand…”


Angel’s eyes darted about uneasily. He took a deep breath, made a visible effort to appear unmoved and very deliberately changed the subject. “Um… you were saying, Giles? Oh yes, let’s get on with the meeting. Uh… have we discovered what Spike did to make the Portal trial run go wrong?”


Everyone glared at him. Giles sighed resignedly and pointedly explained. “You’d have heard, had you been here on time, Angel, that Buffy acted rather impetuously and jumped into the portal after Spike, which is what disrupted the process. Spike did nothing wrong. Please let your ridiculous obsession go.” He turned to Anya, “Anya my dear girl, the demons? Any joy?”


Proud to be able to make her contribution at last, Anya indicated the drawing of the ‘hunter’ demons. “I know these Ospunaat demons. When I spent the day in their dimension about forty years ago having a picnic in the forest with my friend Rashon they were the only demons there. They were primitive hunter gatherers. They shouldn’t have been dangerous.” She pointed to the robed demon. “I vaguely recognise this one, but I can’t remember its name. I seem to remember them being scholars and collectors, but they shouldn’t be in that dimension! Neither should these!” She picked up the second piece of paper with Dawn’s dragon sketch. “This one looks familiar too. Haven’t we seen one of these? Isn’t it like that thing that came through Glory’s portal?”


Giles frowned. “So other demons have been travelling between dimensions? That can’t be good.” He moved to peer over Anya’s shoulder at the drawing of the dragon. “Now you come to mention it that does look rather like the draconic creature that came through the portal before Buffy jumped to close it. I think that over the following summer we dealt with all the other unusual demons that suddenly appeared, but we never saw that one again, did we? It just flew off into the distance.”


Spike perked up at the thought of being able to become a dragon slayer after all and acquiring more gold. “Could go lookin’ for it, Watcher. If it’s the same kind… could be fun… a dragon hunt… more pretty talons…”


Giles chuckled but made no comment.


Fred hesitantly asked, “Mr Giles, didn’t you tell me that when Glorificus opened the portal she created gates between all the dimensions?” Giles nodded and gestured for her to continue, “Well... if strange demons crossed into this dimension from others, surely it would be logical to suppose that demons could have traversed all the gates between all the dimensions? We can’t be the only place that was invaded…”


Giles murmured, “Oh dear Lord… You’re quite correct Fred, what a horrific thought…”


Various quiet shocked comments rippled around the room which only ceased when Althanea spoke. “Ripper, my dear. Have I understood correctly that it is young Dawn’s blood that opens the portals, but it is Buffy’s that is needed to close them? How does that work?”


Buffy answered for her Watcher. “The monks who guarded the key made it human, made it into Dawn and sent her to me as my sister so I would keep her safe. They made her out of me. Our blood is the same.”


“Oh I see…” Althanea looked closely at the teenager perched on the counter and calmly asked, “That makes you very precious, doesn’t it, child? So then… Buffy is your mother… Who is your father? Do you know?”


You could have heard a pin drop.


Spike spluttered into the shocked silence, “Bloody Hell… please tell me it isn’t G.I Gormless… he was the git you were with at the time, wasn’t he? Slayer…?”


Dawn ignored him and exclaimed desperately, “Sister! She’s my sister not my mother!” She added plaintively, “I had a mother… she loved me… I was her li’l punkinbelly…”


Fred regarded her kindly and gently explained. “I’m sorry, Dawn, but if they made you from Buffy’s DNA that makes her your biological mother, not your sister. And there really has to be a male donor out there somewhere who would be your biological father. If they’d only used Buffy’s cells you would have turned out an exact duplicate of her, a clone.”


Dawn looked at Willow, her customary reference for all things scientific, and saw her nodding to herself in agreement. She gaped wildly around the room, took in all the stunned faces turned to her and burst into tears. She jumped off the counter, fled into the training room and slammed the door.


Sensing his Mate’s whirling emotions Spike bent and whispered into her ear, “Go to her, Buffy. Whether you’re her sister or her mother you’re all she’s got.” He nudged her forward slightly.


Buffy turned and looked up at him, her moist eyes filled with confused shock. She shook her head and reminded him, “Not all… she’s got you too.”


Spike nodded, “Always… but it’s you she needs now, sweetheart.”


Buffy sighed and stood up, shrugged at the room in general and muttered, “I’m sorry… she’s… um… we’ll be right back…” then followed her sister, closing the door quietly behind her.


For a few seconds everyone stared at the closed door, then as if orchestrated they all turned to glare at Althanea. She shrugged innocently, “What? I only asked… surely you’ve addressed this question before? The poor child needs to know who she is!”

******

Spike sat on the ladder immersed in the very confused mixture of emotions coming from his Mate as he tried not to listen to the tearful conversation going on in the training room. As he wished desperately for a cigarette he tried to distract himself by observing Giles, Anya and Fred discussing various demons and the dimensions they inhabited, Xander and Gunn exchanging their demon fighting experiences on the Hellmouth, Angel glowering at an extremely nervous Willow as she clarified her findings about his soul for him, and Althanea having a quiet but very intense discussion with Tara.


At last he felt Buffy beginning to calm down and come to a decision. He turned to look at the door as he heard the sisters blowing their noses and making themselves presentable. A few moments later they reappeared hand in hand, looking rather embarrassed with puffy red rimmed eyes and smudged make-up. The room fell silent and everyone returned to their seats in expectation.


Buffy smiled shyly. “We’ve decided… we’re gonna get DNA tests done. We need to know…” She turned to her Watcher, “Can you help us set that up, Giles? If it turns out Althanea’s right we’ll need to try to find out who Dawnie’s biological father is too, ‘cos if it’s not dad… and may I say if it is… eewww… she has the right to know.”


Fred put in, “I doubt very much if they’d have mixed your father’s DNA with yours, Buffy. It would have been genetically inappropriate.”


Giles put his well-polished spectacles back on and fondly assured his Slayer, “I’d be honoured to help, Buffy. I’m just ashamed I never considered the question before. My only excuse is that at the time we discovered Dawn’s unique… origins, we were rather distracted by your mother’s illness and an insane Hellgod.”


Buffy nudged Spike’s leg and gestured for him to move further up the ladder. When he complied she climbed to sit between his legs as before and Dawn perched below her. The teenager turned up to her sister and declared, “Even if you are my biological mother, Buffy, I’m not gonna start calling you mom… ‘cos that would be weird after mom…”


Buffy shuddered, “God no! It would be all kinds of wrong!” She suddenly looked wickedly thoughtful. “Although if I am your mother you won’t be able to flout my authority any more with…” She did a very creditable impression of Dawn’s high pitched whine, “‘You’re not my mother, you can’t tell me what to do…’ any more.”


The room erupted into good natured laughter and Dawn pouted even as she smiled.


Giles shuffled his pile of notes and murmured, “Now, where were we?”


“Any luck trying to find out who’s pulling our strings, Watcher?” Spike prompted.


The glasses came off. “Ah… well. I’m beginning to have my suspicions, it’s true. I have an old friend doing some surreptitious research for me in the Council records which might tell us more. I didn’t want to entrust such a delicate matter to the dubious motives of Quentin Travers.” He took a deep breath and admitted, “I have a theory. I’m leaning towards blaming the entire conspiracy… all our coincidences… on the Monks of Dagon.”


Puzzled, Buffy asked, “I thought they were all dead? That my little Holy Man who told me about Dawn was the last one?”


“Yes, well of course, Buffy, that’s what makes the research process so very simple!” Giles retorted sarcastically. “Not only did they give the mystical Key that they had protected for centuries human form, as Dawn, and send her to you to keep safe, but I am coming to believe they also created your three emerald artifacts and arranged for us to find them.” He waved his arms around in frustration. “I wouldn’t put it past the blighters to have written and planted the bloody prophecy for me to find in the first place!” He turned to Spike and pointed his glasses at him accusingly. “And you... you idiot. How did you manage to get yourself captured and chipped? You’re a Master Vampire for heavens sake! How could you not have noticed a group of bloody great soldiers creeping up behind you in their oh so dainty army boots? I’m willing to bet those blasted monks had a hand in muzzling you so you would stick around and be on hand ready to take your place as the Key’s Protector!”


Spike set his jaw resentfully and thought back to the night he had been taken by surprise. He mused, “I was distracted watching the Slayer fight. Magnificent she was. I’d just come from trying to get my ring back from the poof. I just couldn’t leave it like that… I was going to…”


Giles smirked, “Make her your third? Yes… we’ve all heard that so many times. Strange that in all the times you fought neither of you ever managed to kill the other. How is that, by the way?”


Spike chuckled, “She was too much fun to fight… I wasn’t ready for the dance to be over…”


Buffy grinned and said, “Um… kinda same here. I always liked fighting Spike. He was the only one who really drew out my full abilities, you know? He was my equal. It was kinda like having a really intense sparring partner. Fun with a side order of mortal terror. Very exhilarating.”


Giles shook his head as he smugly reminded Spike, “I tried to tell you, didn’t I? When we discovered you could still fight demons I said I thought your... incapacity might have a higher purpose. You wouldn’t have it…”


Spike glowered at him. “Interfering soddin’ monks. Jerking a bloke around on their poxy little strings. They had no right…”


Dawn frowned in consideration and hesitantly asked, “But if they were setting things up that early… I wasn’t there then... was I?”


Buffy gently explained, “I don’t think so Dawnie. I clearly remember you helping me move into the dorms… but when I ran into my little monk he made it sound as if they’d only just sent you to me. I don’t think you arrived until the end of the following summer.”


Fred nodded. “They’ll have needed time both to collect your tissue sample, Buffy, and the sample from the male donor, and then set the process of cell growth going. Of course they’ll have needed magic to accelerate her development as well as the most difficult thing, creating and implanting Dawn’s own memories and implanting knowledge of her in your memories and all of the memories of the people who would be likely to come into contact with you. It wouldn’t have been a quick process.” She glanced at the anxious teenager, “They must have been busy at least a year, I’d have thought, before they were ready for the last big spell to set you in place with all your possessions, Dawn.”


Dawn looked questioningly over at Willow and received a nod of confirmation. “So if they were setting everything up that early perhaps they didn’t use Riley?” She asked hopefully. “You didn’t know him very well then did you, Buffy?” She shuddered. “I really don’t want him to be my father. He never wanted to have anything to do with me…”


Xander started laughing hysterically and when everyone stared at him he managed to gasp out, “Oh I know… I bet they used the Peroxide Peril as the daddy donor! If he was being set up to be Dawnie’s Protector… They could have stolen samples from the Initiative when they took lumps out of him… Wouldn’t that just be hilarious? Oh poor Dawnie… Dawnie Demonspawn…”


His hilarity continued for several seconds and then cut off abruptly when he realised he was the only person who was laughing. Everyone else was looking appraisingly between Dawn and Spike. He blustered, “I was kidding! Nobody thinks they’d use vamp seed to make you, Dawnie! Really people... I was kidding!”


Buffy looked thoughtfully at Dawn, then examined Spike’s face minutely. She quietly asked, “Spike darling, when Dawn and I send our DNA samples to be analysed… would you…?”


Giles huffed sarcastically. “Oh dear Lord… That’s perfect. Just perfect.”


Althanea nodded wisely and murmured, “Ah yes. Very fitting.”


Xander spluttered, “I was kidding… You don’t really think... Giles? Please tell me…”


The Watcher shook his head sadly at him. “I’m sorry Xander, but I’m afraid I’m coming to understand it’s just the sort of thing they might have done. It makes a sick sort of sense. With Spike already in line to be Dawn’s Protector what better way of ensuring his loyalty than to make it a genetic imperative?”


Dawn appeared thrilled by the possibility. She turned and beamed up at her undead best friend, and he found himself grinning goofily back at her at the thought. Could it be true? He’d given up any hope of having children the night he’d been sired.


Dawn giggled and teasingly threatened, “I’m not calling you dad!”


He scowled back at her, “God, please don’t! I’m the Big Bad! Talk about ruining my reputation…”


Buffy patted his leg and absently consoled him, “Yeah, honey. We know. You’re the Baddest.”


Spike slumped down sulkily on his rung of the ladder. She was humouring him. She had no idea how important his reputation for being evil was to him.


Giles sighed and suggested, “There’s little point pursuing this issue until we know something definite, so perhaps we should move on?”


Xander suggested, “Are we gonna talk about Buffy’s fangs now…?”


Giles sighed and gazed in wonder at the tiny blonde on the ladder. “Ah yes…”


Angel burst out with, “Fangs? Buffy has fangs now? What did Spike…?”


Giles glared at him and interrupted, “Oh do be quiet, you blithering idiot. Please drop your SpikeIsEvil obsession, it’s becoming increasingly irritating.” He addressed the room in general. “It seems that in the dimension Anya suggested we use for the test everyone’s supernatural abilities manifested in a different manner from normal.” He took his glasses off and used them to point to each person in turn. “Spike’s demonic fangs and ridges were more pronounced and his demon took over his persona far more easily, quickly causing his behaviour to descend to a basic instinctive level when he went into game face. Tara’s magical powers were much stronger than she’s accustomed to and Buffy developed small fangs and some very intricate face and body markings when she engaged in battle.” He tactfully omitted to mention the sexual activities that had also caused the Slayer’s changes to appear.


Buffy interjected, “The fighting was much easier than it has ever been too, Giles, except for when we did that spell to fight Adam. I went all SuperSlayerBuffy.”


Giles nodded in acknowledgement and made another note then turned to Dawn. “Did you notice any difference in yourself, Dawn? You do after all contain mystical power.”


Dawn shrugged and shook her head. “I didn’t feel any different, Giles. Should I have?”


Giles sighed and shrugged in resignation. “I’m sorry, my dear. I simply have no idea.” He took a deep breath and continued, “This discovery of Buffy’s metamorphosis lends credence to some information I’ve received from a local demon who claims to be an expert in all things Slayer.” He turned to look at Buffy and Spike. “I’ve read the material Old Perpalla sent and requested an interview with her to clarify a few points, but it seems she is reluctant. She appears to be apprehensive about coming face to face with a Slayer and her Watcher. She passed me a message through her employer, Mr DuRose, that she would only agree if both you, Spike, and…” He consulted his papers, “A demon she claims is an acquaintance of yours, one Clement, her great-nephew, were to accompany us to personally guarantee her safety.”


Buffy perked up. “Clement? Do you mean Clem? Oh that’s no problem, we know him. He’s so sweet. You’ve met him, Giles. You remember... at Spike’s crypt with the kitten? And Old Perpalla is his aunt? I like her already!”


Giles nodded and made a note, “That’s good. We’ll leave that discussion until we’ve been able to arrange a meeting then, Buffy. It’s not something that involves the entire group.” He shuffled his papers again. “Moving on… Oh yes. You said you all arrived in the other dimension at widely spaced locations, but that once you’d managed to find each other you were able to control your return so you all arrived back here together?”


Dawn raised a hand to draw his attention. “That was me, Giles. I remembered something Wesley said in LA when he was talking about their trip to Pylea. He said that they had to be connected by metal to stay together, that’s why they went through their portal in Angel’s car. I had an idea that my chain could do the same thing and we all grabbed onto it to jump through the return portal.”


Giles smiled warmly at her. “Oh well done, Dawn. How very resourceful of you.” He made another note and commented, “And of course we’re going to have to try to work out the ways time varies in the different dimensions we create Portals to. That’s another potential problem this test has brought to our attention. It would never do for Spike to be languishing for centuries waiting to be brought back, or for him to experience minutes while years pass here. It could be disastrous.” He looked around at the individuals who had been through the portal and asked, “Wasn’t there something else? Oh yes, we need cellphones.” He turned to Willow. “I’ll leave that task to you, Willow. You have the best grasp of the technology involved. One for each of us, please, you may put them on my credit card as legitimate expenses. Dawn, you were quite correct, your return journey would have been far smoother if you had been able to contact me directly.”


Buffy sighed deeply and looked across at Willow. “And then we got home and found the house was trashed. What did you think you were doing, Will?”


“I thought I was helping!” Willow declared, defensively. “You’d been gone for days and nobody seemed to have a clue what to do about it. I knew a spell to locate you and bring you back…”


Althanea didn’t raise her head but her mellow voice fairly dripped disappointment. “The truth, Willow.”


The young redhead shrank in on herself and sighed. “I know. I screwed up, okay? I didn’t think it through. I didn’t realise you wouldn’t all be together and just did a trace on Tara. I managed to create a portal to the right dimension…”


Althanea cleared her throat meaningfully.


Willow whimpered. “I thought I created a portal to the right dimension, but something went wrong. I tried to hold it as long as I could waiting for Tara to appear… but the thing that started to materialise…” She shuddered but went on excitedly, “It was big and red and greasy and uberscary... those yellow eyes... they burned through me and I lost my place in the spell and everything started going wonky…” She shrugged, “And then I woke up in the hospital with a headache and a nosebleed and no left eyebrow...”


Buffy spoke very patiently, “I don’t understand, Will. Why did you think you had to try to get us back with magic?”


Willow glared at Giles. “Well nobody else was doing anything but talk and read books, and when I suggested using magic to find you Giles pooh poohed the idea. He was all with the ‘but we don’t know the full facts of the situation’ and ‘we need more research’… but something had to be done!”


“He was right, though wasn’t he, Will. You didn’t know the full facts and you did need more research.” Buffy went from the sympathetic friend to the steely Slayer in a single breath. “And of course it had to be you to do it… didn’t it Will? You had to be the one to pull off the miracle, so you could say, ‘Look what I did for you’… just like you did when you tore me out of Heaven! You didn’t know the full facts or do enough research then either, did you? When I came back you were so smug, so proud of yourself always hovering around me waiting for me to be grateful and say ‘Well done, Will. Thank you so much, you’re so clever, you’re so wonderful. You saved me.’ Well I wasn’t grateful, you weren’t clever and you didn’t save me. I didn’t need to be saved. How could you believe I’d be sent to Hell for giving my life to save the World, Will? Did you really think I was such a bad person?”


Willow sat gazing at her friend in horror, her hand pressed over her mouth, as she shook her head helplessly.


Buffy took a deep shuddering breath and continued, “We didn’t need to be saved this time either, Willow. You really have no faith in any of us, do you? I’m the Slayer, Dawn’s the Key with her unique powers, Tara’s a very skilful witch, Spike is a Master Vampire with access to the power of his mystical sword, and Xander… he’s so brave. But you still didn’t believe that between us we’d be able to get ourselves home.” She shook her head sadly, “Guilt cookies aren’t going to make up for it this time, Will. Mom’s couch, the window, the whole room! You could have blown up the whole house… and you with it! What would we have done if I was still broke and slinging burgers at the Doublemeat? Would you have been able to afford to fix and replace everything? Of course not.” She quietly and calmly delivered the killing blow. “I don’t think I can let you live with us any more, Will. Not until you’ve got yourself sorted out. I just can’t take the risk of you hurting Dawn with more wonky spellage because you decide ‘something has to be done’ and you take it upon yourself to be the one to do it.”


Buffy’s words had reduced Willow to a sodden sobbing heap on the step. “I know… I know… I’m a bad witch. I know I can’t go on this way… I realise now that I can’t just stop doing magic. The temptation’s always there and even if I do manage to suppress it, when it does burst out it’s bad… so bad. I know I’ve got to learn to use better judgement. Althanea’s helping me. I’m so sorry, Buffy. So sorry…” She gazed pleadingly up at her lover, “Tara, baby, I’m so sorry… it’s just that you were gone and I needed you so bad… Please say you’ll forgive me?”


Tara was sitting with silent tears flowing down her cheeks and dripping onto Connor’s blanket. “I don’t know, Willow. I just don’t know. Perhaps in time... but I can’t be around you just now. I can still feel the magic you used and it’s so dark… so bitter… it makes me feel ill… And you tried to take control again. You didn’t take anybody else’s wishes or opinions into account. I told you before, sweetie, you have to try to accept it’s not our abilities that define us, it’s the way we choose to use those abilities that counts. I’m afraid you don’t use your abilities wisely. You still haven’t accepted that just because you can do something it doesn't mean you should do it. I just don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to trust you again.”


Willow crumpled back into heartrending sobs, Xander’s strong supporting arm the only thing keeping her from a total collapse.


Althanea sighed deeply and packed her knitting away in her capacious red handbag. “Well now… If there’s nothing else on the agenda that concerns Willow I think it’s time we got back to the hotel. I need to guide Willow through her evening meditation and I think tonight she’ll need an extended session if she’s going to be fit for her classes tomorrow. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help, Ripper.” When Giles nodded and waved an acknowledgement she smiled kindly at Tara and laid a firm hand on her shoulder. “Give me a few days to get Willow back on an even keel and we’ll talk, my dear. I think we may be able to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”


She stood to gather her things together and looked over at Buffy and Spike. “Don’t feel guilty at expressing your anger, Buffy. You needed to let it out, and Willow needed to hear it. Perhaps if you’d been straightforward about your earlier experience from the beginning…? But no, I doubt if it would have made a difference in the long run. The tendency was always there in Willow’s personality… the drive to excel, the defiant ‘I’ll show them’ attitude.” She glanced up at Spike. “William. Quite remarkable. I would appreciate it if you would allow me some time to get to know you, young man. I have a feeling I might be able to help you with your quest for the return of your human soul.”


Everyone took a few minutes to recover from Buffy and Willow’s emotional outbursts. Spike could feel the residue of Buffy’s bitter anger, but Althanea had been correct. Letting it all out had burst its festering core and done her the world of good, allowing her to reach a new inner peace. She still felt a trace of guilt for upsetting her friend, but it was fading since she had received absolution from the charismatic Englishwoman. For a few moments she watched Xander warily for his customary defence of his best friend, but the young man sat deep in thought and didn’t appear to be ready to add to the powerful emotions floating around the room.


Spike himself was uncharacteristically thoughtful. Althanea’s parting words echoed in his mind. His soul. Was it really within reach? How would he react when it was restored to him? Would he change very much? Just as long as he didn’t turn back into that pathetic ninny, William. He couldn’t bear it if his Slayer ended up laughing at him. And Oh God… the poetry. Please let him not start spouting his bloody awful poetry at her…

TBC
(Just one more chapter to go)