Resolutions

Chapter 13

A/N
Apologies for Spike’s lack of PCness regarding ethnic epithets in this chapter.


Spike woke overwhelmed by a surge of nervous excitement. He burrowed into the pillows mumbling irritably, “What’s the daft bint up to this time?” as he tried to settle back to sleep.


A few minutes later when instead of easing off the feelings intensified, he gave up the idea of sleeping, pulled jeans and a t-shirt on and padded downstairs. Finding Tara busy at the dining room table surrounded by text books, notebooks and other study materials, he eased into a seat at the other end of the table.


“You’re up early.”


“Bond’s playing up. Buffy’s up to something. She’s all worked up.” He replied grumpily, his fingers absently beating a tattoo on the table as a result of Buffy’s nervousness.


“Well, I’m working on this really important paper or I’d… Oh! Here…” Tara nudged the laptop over to him. “Take your mind off it…”


“Good idea pet, thanks.” He expertly went through the now familiar process to access the Council database and began idly clicking on links as he followed a meandering route through any and all documents he could find that contained any of his key words: ‘Key’, ‘Sunnydale’, ‘Hellmouth’, ‘Summers’, ‘Prophecy’ and of course ‘Spike’ and ‘William the Bloody’.


As usual he was soon totally engrossed, squinting slightly at the computer screen as he tried to decipher ancient texts and overwritten documents that came in a multitude of languages and writing styles.


He was briefly distracted when he felt Buffy emit a flood of jubilation, but he immediately focussed again when he came across a reference that intrigued him.


“Ever heard anything about a group called ‘Guardians of the Slayer’, Tara pet?”


“I don’t think so, Spike. In what context?”


“Watcher says here in his journal that he and his Slayer had attached themselves to the Knights Hospitaller during the Fifth Crusade’s invasion of Egypt as they’d had portents that something momentous was happening near Tanta, when he felt obliged to investigate the emergence of a strong mystical force nearby. Says he came across a small group of women that called themselves ‘Guardians of the Slayer Line’. When he challenged them they claimed their purpose was to protect the Slayer and ‘Watch the Watchers’.” He sniggered as he explained, “He calls them a ‘presumptuous parcel of meddlesome busy-bodies’ and makes the suggestion that they should be avoided at all costs to prevent ‘contamination’ of the Council’s mission, but on the next page he says that when he went to warn them off they’d vanished into thin air as if they were never there.”


“Watch the Watchers…” Tara mused. “Why does that phrase sound so familiar?”


Spike looked up. “You know what he’s talking about?”


“Nooo… it’s just… when we were researching Glory I came across a reference to ‘Those who Watched the Watchers’ and I guess I assumed it was a flowery way of saying Watchers. It mentioned a special weapon they’d forged for the Slayer, but the Watcher who wrote the book didn’t know anything about it and posed the argument that ‘Those Who Watch’ and their mystical weapon were just a myth. I figured it wasn’t relevant ‘cos if someone forged a special weapon for the Slayer…” She shrugged, “Why doesn’t Buffy have it?”


“So you reckon ‘Those who watched’ might be these Guardians?”


“I guess it’s possible. I didn’t read all the passage as I was only skimming looking for references to Glory. I put that book aside when it became clear she wasn’t mentioned in it, but you could have another look. It should be back at the Magic Box with Giles’ other research books. Why not ask him…”


“No, don’t think so, pet. Not yet, anyway. Wanna have a poke about myself first before telling Buffy or the Watcher. Might be nothing, but if there’s a chance there’s a fancy weapon out there somewhere designed ‘specially for the Slayer…” He cocked his head to one side as he slyly suggested, “Gonna nick the book for me then, Pickle?”


“Oh no.” Tara grinned as she quickly shook her head. “If you want to make off with one of Giles’ precious books you’re going to have to go get it yourself.” She turned to a blank page in her notebook and started writing. “Here’s everything I can remember about it…” Then tearing out the page and passing it over she jokingly warned, “If you get caught, I don’t know anything about it… okay?”


Spike continued exploring in the database with the new search term, ‘Guardians’ but before he’d got very far Tara nudged his arm. “What’s wrong?”


“Huh?”


She gestured at his face. “You’re grinding your teeth and scowling something fierce. For a moment I thought you were going to go all fangy.”


Spike sighed and scrubbed at his face to massage his tense jaw muscles as he realised, “Slayer’s all irritated and frustrated now. Wonder what’s got her knickers in a twist this time?” Then he sighed and chuckled ruefully as he slumped in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck. “And now she’s come over all disappointed. Bloody woman’s just a mess of emotions this morning.”


****


Spike had given up trying to track his Mate’s rapidly fluctuating emotions and had become bored with his fruitless research in the Council’s archives, so after Tara had declared herself satisfied with her paper the pair of them had started preparing lunch so that Tara could eat before heading out to an early afternoon class.


When the noise of a motorbike approached along Revello Drive and stopped outside the house, soon followed by the familiar rumble of Giles’ SUV, Spike didn’t think anything of it until the front door burst open and Buffy danced along the passage holding her crash helmet in one hand and brandishing a little card in the other.


She placed her helmet on the kitchen island, flung her arms around the blonde wiccan, spun her around so fast her hair and skirt flew out wildly and exclaimed, “Congratulate me, Tara! I passed! I’m all Biker Buffy!”


She released Tara who giggled as she staggered dizzily against the wall and went to give Spike a similar embrace. “You were so right, Spike! A motorcycle is the perfect form of transport for me! My instructor said I was a natural and I passed first time!”


It took a moment for Spike to comprehend what Buffy was telling him. Just to be sure he had it right, he gripped her shoulders and pushed her away slightly so he could see her face clearly. With a slight frown on his face he asked, “You’ve been taking bike lessons?”


Buffy grinned widely as she nodded. “Yeah. Tuesday and Thursday afternoons instead of my run and Saturday mornings while Dawn was at self-defence.” Gradually becoming aware that Spike wasn’t as happy with her news as she was, she raised her eyebrows and splayed her raised hands out in a mock startled gesture and hesitantly said, “Surprise?”


“You’ve passed your test and got a licence?”


Increasingly uneasy, Buffy held up the little card she’d been flourishing. “It’s not a real one, not yet. It’s just an interim licence. They said I’ll get the proper one with the photo in the mail when it’s ready.”


Spike looked over her shoulder to where a proudly smiling Giles stood in the doorway and demanded, “You knew about this, Rupert?”


Puzzled by Spike’s attitude, Giles nodded, “Yes. Buffy wanted to keep her lessons secret so she could present her achievement as a happy surprise.”


“Right. Happy surprise.” The vampire nodded sharply and said flatly, “Well, you succeeded, I’m surprised.” Evading her reaching arms he headed for the basement door. Poised at the top step he grimly commented over his shoulder, “You’ve been taking bike lessons. Odd that, considering that each time I offered to take you out for another lesson you made it quite clear to me that you had totally lost interest in the whole bloody idea.”


As he deliberately closed the door behind him and slowly walked down the stairs and over to the punching bag, he heard Buffy plaintively announcing, “I bought a motorcycle… Don’t you wanna see? I thought…” Her voice trailed off unhappily as the familiar rhythmic thuds began to echo through the house.


Spike tuned out the voices from the kitchen as he pummelled the punching bag and grunted out his frustration and disappointment. He didn’t understand how Buffy could have so effectively hidden her activities from him, or for that matter why she would have wanted to. He had been really looking forward to teaching her how to ride a motorbike, it was one of the few skills he had that he could have taught her.


His initial shock and disappointment had been somewhat ameliorated by Buffy’s confusion and sadness when a while later the door at the top of the stairs opened and Giles hesitantly descended and sat on a box regarding him.


Keeping his back turned to the other Englishman Spike grumpily asked, “She send you down to do her dirty work then, Watcher?”


“Not at all, Spike. Buffy’s surprised and rather upset by your reaction to her news. She was expecting you to be both pleased and proud of her but on the contrary, to use her… uh… exact words, you’ve ‘gone all HuffyVamp’. To be honest I don’t understand either. I tried to get Buffy to come and talk to you, but you know how stubborn she is. Then I thought it might be easier for you to explain your behaviour to me, without Buffy’s hurt feelings getting in the way.”


Spike grabbed the punching bag so it stopped swinging and closing his eyes he rested his forehead against it. He sadly muttered, “’Course it has to be Buffy’s feelings that are hurt, doesn’t it?” He heaved a resigned sigh. “And of course it has to be my fault. Seems it always bloody is.” He turned around and caught up his t-shirt from where he’d flung it, pulled it back on and sat astride the weight bench.


“Let’s see if I can make it clear enough for you, Rupert.” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Imagine you’ve got this wonderful woman who you love with everything you are. You’ve turned your back on your own nature and changed your entire existence in order for her to accept you can be together. It’s sad but true that you don’t have many things in common…” He shrugged, “…basically just mind-blowing shagging, protecting the people you love and the need for a satisfying spot of violence before bedtime. Oh yeah, and as I’ve recently discovered, chocolate.” (There was no way he was going to mention the poetry).


“Then a wonderful day dawns when your lady expresses an enthusiastic interest in learning how to do something you’ve been doing for more years that she’s been alive, and you’re thrilled that for the first time you’re expert at something she isn’t, so you have the opportunity to teach her. But then… as soon as you start getting excited about actually having an interest you can share like any other couple, she seems to completely go off the whole idea. You keep suggesting it, but she makes it pretty clear she’s just not interested.”


His disappointment was rapidly turning into anger and his voice was rising in pitch and volume as he stood up, started pacing and gesticulating wildly and continued, “Then you’ve finally accepted that despite her earlier enthusiasm she’s changed her mind and doesn’t want to do this thing after all, when she comes prancing in and expects you to be happy that she’s gone off behind your back and secretly shared the whole experience with a Total. Bleeding. Stranger!”


Coming to a standstill and pointing accusingly upwards to where he could sense Buffy, he angrily concluded, “And now she says she’s gone and bought herself a bike. No: ‘Spike, you know all about motorcycles, please come with me and help me choose which one would be best for me’. No, of course not. She’s all about the girl power as always, so she has to go off and do that without me too.”


He finally ran down and slumped back onto the weight bench, crossed his arms over his chest and muttered sulkily, “Bloody Woman.”


It was a couple of hours after Giles had gone back upstairs before Buffy ventured into the basement. Hours in which Spike had indulged in a mammoth pout as he went through his regular workout regime, occasionally muttering resentfully to himself about modern women who were too bloody independent for their own good.


Buffy stood at the foot of the stairs with her arms wrapped around herself, the briny evidence of her tears scenting the cool air of the basement. Spike deliberately didn’t turn to look at her as he knew that one glimpse of her sad red-rimmed eyes would have him apologising and trying to comfort her, even though he felt she should be apologising to him.


After concentrating on her feet for a few moments Buffy mumbled petulantly, “Giles keeps insisting I should come talk to you.”


Deciding not to let her off easily, Spike continued with his stomach crunches and muttered disinterestedly, “Yeah?”


She abruptly blurted out, “I don’t understand why you’re being all SulkyVamp. Aren’t you happy for me that I passed my test? I thought…”


Coming to a rest with a sigh, Spike decided to aim right to the heart of the problem. He sat up and turned to look at her. “What do you need me for, Buffy?”


She gaped at him blankly. “Huh?”


“We shag and we patrol. You could do those things with anybody. What do you need me for?”


Evidently unsure of his exact meaning she hesitantly said, “You help me protect Dawn and… and you do the portal thing with us. And there’s the Hellmouth prophecy, I’m gonna need you for that…” She had a flash of inspiration. “Oh! Plus! You’re a really good cook? We actually eat healthily all the time now, even when Tara’s out. I’d have poisoned us all…”


He stood and faced her, cutting her off with a sharp gesture. “I know why the Slayer needs me.” He pointed between them and asked, “What does Buffy need from me in this relationship we’ve got ourselves into.” He sadly suggested, “Seems to me that all you really need me for is the shagging.” He shrugged apologetically. “Being your Spikebot sextoy i’n’t enough any more, Buffy, even with the added bonus of being your tame housevamp chef.”


“Spikebot?” Buffy gasped in horrified disbelief.


“’S’what I was innit? Before the Claim? You’d come to me for your jollies, then when you’d worked out your kinks you’d put me to one side and ignore me, trying hard to forget I existed. That is, until the next time you had an itch to scratch when you’d get me out and charge me up again... no emotional involvement desired.”


He disregarded her indignant protest as he chose his words carefully and tried to explain, “Buffy, I was really looking forward to spending time with you teaching you how to ride a bike. For once there was something I was good at that I could pass on to you. We could have had some fun together that didn’t involve shagging or fighting. More importantly it would have been one of those ‘normal couple things’ you seemed to be so set on us doing when we first came back from LA. Instead, you cut me out and went to a Total. Bloody. Stranger. In secret. Not exactly a shining example of the ‘equal partnership’ you claim to want. Is it?”


Buffy grimaced guiltily. “It’s just… I wanted to prove I could do it on my own…”


Spike snorted. “Didn’t need to prove that to me, Slayer. I’ve always known you can do any sodding thing you set your mind to.” He nodded sadly as he deduced, “Except perhaps let someone in to share your life. You’re so hot on this: ‘I’m the Slayer, I’ve got to be strong and never show any weakness’ thing, you forget there are people who actually want to spend time with you and are willing and eager to help you out. Nothing to do with you being the Slayer, just ‘cos you’re Buffy. And not ‘cos they think you need help of course…” He rolled his eyes in frustration. “…‘cos God forbid you ever let anyone think you need help, but simply ‘cos they would enjoy spending time with you sharing the experience.”


Buffy stared at him for a few seconds and then her face crumpled. “Oh God, I’m doing it again!”


“Doing what again, sweetheart?”


“This is what I did with Riley. I was totally self-involved Buffy and took him for granted.”


Suddenly unsure, Spike asked, “But you said you didn’t love the enormous git. You told me…”


Buffy lurched forward and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him reassuringly tightly. “I do love you, I do! It’s just…” She sighed and loosened her grip slightly so she could look up into his face. “I guess it’s a consequence of the whole ‘creature of the night’ thing.”


Ready to take offence, Spike went to speak but Buffy waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t mean that like… She frowned slightly as she tried to rationalise her thoughts. “I guess I thought I’d got used to being in a relationship with a vampire. The biting and the blood and the lack of body heat. The strength and the fighting…” She shrugged, “That’s just part of you and it feels totally natural now. The one thing it seems I haven’t come to terms with is your pesky daylight allergy. We can’t do the regular things that other couples do during the day and we seem to have forgotten to come up with alternative vamp friendly activities we can do together.”


“So what do we do?”


Nodding her head decisively, Buffy declared, “We come up with some things we can do together that we both enjoy that don’t involve fighting or…” She scrunched her nose up as she made a very poor attempt at Spike’s English accent, “…mind-blowing shagging.”


Spike snorted. “I’ll go along with that, Buffy, as long as you promise me you’ll never try to mimic my accent again.”


Gaining enthusiasm for her idea, Buffy brightly declared. “Lists. We need lists.”


That non sequitur had Spike’s eyebrows shooting up in utter bewilderment. “Lists?”


“Yeah. Lists of suggestions for stuff we can try out to see if we enjoy doing them together.” She prodded him in the chest. “You make a list and I make a list. Anything that appears on both lists we have to try, and then we have a go at any of the others we both like the sound of and then when we’ve tried them all we have to agree to stick with… say… three things that we both find not totally gross and can regularly fit into our weird schedule.”


Becoming amused and intrigued despite himself, Spike asked, “And how many things do we put on these lists of ours then?”


Huge eyes looked up at him as she chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Five? Yeah. We each think of at least five things we could do to have fun together as a couple - things that are totally separate from the Slayer thing - without you risking becoming a crispy critter.”


They stayed in the basement for a while enjoying what Buffy called ‘a make up cuddle’ until the phone rang upstairs. They both hesitated to break up their snuggle session to answer it and after a few rings it cut off. Buffy immediately started fidgeting anxiously.


“We should have got that. We never know…”


She was interrupted by Giles opening the basement door and calling down, “Althanea rang and said she wanted to speak to you both. I told her you were both in. She’s on her way over. I hope I did right…?”


Buffy called back, “Thanks Giles. We’ll be right up.”


Once they’d tidied themselves up and rejoined Giles in the living room the Watcher observed the renewed closeness between the two blondes and suddenly felt a bit surplus to requirements. He had just decided to go across to his own home and had made his excuses when there was a knock on the door.


As he was standing right by the door poised to leave, Giles opened it.


Althanea was standing in the porch looking out onto the drive. Without checking to see who had opened the door she asked, “Who does that lovely bike belong to?”


Buffy bustled past Giles to join Althanea on the porch as she excitedly exclaimed, “Oh! That’s my new baby! Do you like her?” She jumped down, trotted over onto the drive and stroked along the shiny crimson fuel tank and the smooth black seat. She turned and beamed up at the group gathered on the porch, which included a curious Spike who was forced to huddle behind Giles’ larger form and peep around his arm in an attempt to avoid the bright afternoon sun.


“She wasn’t my first choice…” As she spoke she unconsciously patted the seat reassuringly. “I fell in love at first sight with a vision in gleaming gold.” She sighed and gazed off into the middle distance, murmuring reverently, “A Triumph Trophy. She was simply gorgeous and I told the sales guy straight away that I had to have her, but he insisted that as I was so petite she was too big for me. I tried to tell him I was wicked strong and wouldn’t have any trouble handling her, but it turned out that wasn’t what he meant. He told me to sit astride and when I did...”


She threw a leg over the seat of the bike beside her and leant forward to grip the handlebars while easily keeping both feet on the ground. “… it wasn’t all comfy like this one. Even at full stretch both my feet were at least six inches off the ground! Every time I stopped, the bike would have fallen over before I would have had a chance to balance her!”


She sat up straight, rested her fists on her hips and ranted, “Did you know there’s rampant discrimination in the motorcycle manufacturing industry against people of less than average stature? I went from bike to bike in the showroom and it turned out there were only three I could ride! One Kawasaki, one Suzuki and this Triumph Bonneville America!” Once more she absently stroked the fuel tank in front of her.


“I have to say I was tempted by the Kawasaki, but the guy was really helpful and insisted I took a test ride around the lot on each of the three. As soon as I got going on my baby here, I just knew… she was the gal for me.” Another fond pat to the tank and then she twisted around and patted the raised pillion seat complete with backrest. “See, Dawnie will be just fine here if I need to give her a ride…” She flipped open one of the panniers. “…and look, I can keep some stakes and Holy Water and the like in here…” and then she bent down to sweep a hand across the expanse of gleaming chrome at the side of the machine, “… and I figured you could fit me brackets like yours, Spike for my favourite axe, or possibly the katana…”


She sat up again and spread her arms out expansively, grinning up at them excitedly. “So… what do you think of my Bonny?”


Despite his upset over Buffy’s original decision to exclude him, Spike couldn’t help but be infected by her enthusiasm. He admitted to himself that even though she hadn’t consulted him she had chosen a bike he would probably have recommended for her. He was delighted she hadn’t been taken in by one of those Jap models and had picked a good old Triumph, even if it was an American version.


He also realised that he’d found the first item for his ‘list’. They could take off on their bikes for long rides up the coast and picnic on the beach in the moonlight. He smirked to himself as he drifted off into an extremely pleasant daydream. There could be chocolate and strawberries and whipped cream… and maybe if he was lucky she’d agree to go skinnydipping…


It wasn’t until he felt the pain of overheating flesh on his arm that he came back to earth and realised that everyone else had gone back indoors. Hastily brushing the scorched and blackened hairs off his forearm he dodged back in and closed the door, to be met by an amused grin from Buffy. As she guided him into the dining room she murmured teasingly, “So do I sense you approve my choice?”


Leering and nodding his agreement he took a seat next to her and waited to find out the purpose of Althanea’s visit.


“William,” the Englishwoman began. “I need to ask you a serious question.”


Spike raised an intrigued eyebrow as he began to wonder what the problem was.


“A few months ago you expressed a wish to regain your human soul and I told you I’d look into a process by which it could be returned to you in the form of a blessing rather than a curse to make it permanent and to reduce the trauma you’d experience.”


When Spike nodded in agreement she continued, “I now have to ask you if you’re still determined to proceed.”


Taking a quick side glance at Buffy’s anxious expression he nodded. “Yeah. Gotta have it. I know Buffy loves me without, but I’m also fully aware I’m a monster and she deserves better.” When Buffy started to protest he took her hand and squeezed it to silence her.


“I can feel Buffy’s conscience tickling away at the edges of my senses and it helps, but I know it would have to be easier to know what’s right if I had my own. She deserves to have a partner who doesn’t need to use her as a second hand soul… and besides…” he smirked wickedly at his Mate, “…I can’t help feeling we’d both be reassured I’d be less likely to start doing something stupid if I did have it.”


He was abruptly utterly serious and turned to address Althanea directly. “Then there’s the most important thing. The prophecy that says I have to ‘give my life and soul’ to destroy the Hellmouth. Seems to me this is the only way to make absolutely sure Buffy’s safe and it’s only myself I risk.”


Althanea smiled and nodded. “I suspected that would be your attitude. I’m pleased to have been proved correct. I think I’ve completed formulating the rite, although of course as it’s the first time something like this has been attempted I can’t be absolutely certain it’ll work first time… you understand that, don’t you William?”


“Yeah, suppose I’m kind of a guinea pig, right? If it doesn’t work…?”


“Oh don’t worry. Even if it doesn’t work it can’t possibly hurt you. I expect I’d get a good idea of what went wrong and be able to amend it to try again, that is if you’re agreeable.” When Spike nodded in understanding she slipped a scrap of paper from her giant red handbag and glanced at it. “I’ve calculated that it would be best to try at the Full Moon. The next one is in nearly two weeks time at ten to five in the morning on Sunday May 26th. We still have a few necessary components to gather but we should have them all assembled by then.”


Buffy made a face. “Five in the morning?” She shuddered. “We don’t generally do early…”


While Spike and Giles chuckled at her disgruntlement, Althanea smiled at her. “We’re lucky it falls during the hours of darkness, Buffy. My Goddess has a pronounced preference for outdoor rites. If we had to wait until June the precise Full Moon would fall at quarter to three in the afternoon… which would be slightly impractical for William.”


“So an outdoor rite… where?”


“Ah, well that’s where your expert local knowledge will come in handy, Buffy. We need to select a location where there isn’t very much human or demon activity so we can be reasonably assured we won’t be interrupted. It’s also important that it has no negative connotations for anyone involved which might disrupt the atmosphere of calm reverence we’ll need to generate. The trouble is it’ll still need to be relatively easy for us to get to.”


“How about the Portal Field?” Was Buffy’s immediate suggestion.


“Oh no. Sorry, Buffy, but the traces of Portal energy that linger at that site would be extremely difficult to work with. We need somewhere that’s as ‘natural’ as possible.”


When no more suggestions were immediately forthcoming, Althanea requested, “Well, please think about it. We don’t need to finalise the site until two or three days beforehand.” She turned to address Spike directly, “Now then, William. As I said, my Goddess prefers everything, including her petitioners, to be in as natural a state as possible. This means there are some things you’re going to have to do to prepare yourself.”


Spike’s hand automatically went to his hair, wondering if he was going to have to recolour it. He idly wondered what his natural colour would be now, he hadn’t seen it for many years. He’d dyed it black through the second world war and into the fifties, let it grow out for a while in the sixties until the curls threatened to turn it into an unmanageable and unfashionable afro and then in the mid-seventies when he’d become fascinated by the raw new punk rock music that appealed to the rebel in him, he had been amused by the imaginative fashions sported by its fans and so he’d had it cut very short and bleached it to go with his new look. Dru had liked the ‘sharp’ air it gave him so much, he’d kept it long after the mainstream fans had moved on.


Althanea evidently caught on to his concern and chuckled. “I don’t think anything can be done about the bleach, you won’t be able to grow it out in the time, but you will need to forgo the product for the occasion.” She glanced sideways at Buffy. “As will all who attend the ceremony. No perfumes, creams, lotions or other toiletries, jewellery, make-up, piercings or any other unnatural adornments. Before the ceremony we’ll all be washing head to toe in spring-water with home-made herbal soap to purify ourselves. Tara already has the recipe…”


Buffy began to look downright apprehensive and Spike couldn’t help but be amused. His girl did love her beauty aids.


Giles was intrigued. “What about our clothing? I’m guessing only natural fibres?”


Althanea hesitantly explained, “I’m afraid that for such an audacious rite we’re going to need every advantage we can gain, Ripper, so it’s going to have to be a bit stricter even that that.”


Spike started to get alarmed. “Tell me I’m not gonna have to sacrifice the leather, Milady.”


The Englishwoman grimaced nervously. “I’m afraid so, William. Everyone present will need to wear plain garments sewn from hand-woven, unbleached linen. No buttons or zips, just drawstring waist trousers and slipover tunics or dresses with loose sashes. I’ve already asked my friends in the weaving circle back home to send me the fabric they have in stock.”


Buffy muttered dubiously, “I guess it won’t be so bad if we all have to do it…”


“And that’s another thing, William. I’m assuming that all of Buffy’s little family here will be attending, but is there anyone else you’d like to have present? What about your vampiric family? Would you like any of them to witness the proceedings?”


Spike snorted. “My vampiric family couldn’t give a piss about me, milady. Besides, as far as I know all there is left is Angelus and Dru and I certainly don’t want them around. Oh, and young Lawson, but I’ve no idea where he might be.” He shook his head decisively. “Nah, they’re all part of my past, yer Ladyship. This getting of me soul, it’s a fresh start to take me into the future. I got all the family I need here with me, Buffy and Dawn, Tara, Anya, Red and Harris.” He indicated Giles. “Not forgetting the gaffer, here.”


Buffy suggested, “What about Nathan?”


“No, love. He may have been turned by an Aurelian, but although he’s more than just a regular minion he’s not ‘family’ in the strictest sense.”


Amused by Giles’ spluttered objections to being called ‘the gaffer’, Althanea continued listing her conditions. “As I said, you will have to be in as natural a state as possible, William. I know that ingesting Buffy’s blood gives you certain additional supernatural benefits. This means you’ll need to stop feeding from her now to give your body time to revert to normal.”


Spike nodded but put in, “Of course my ‘natural’ diet would be fresh human blood….”


“I think it might be better to humour the Goddess you’re appealing to, don’t you, William? She doesn’t insist upon vegetarianism – or the vampire equivalent - but she does look favourably upon it, so animal blood only from now until after the Blessing please.”


Spike grimaced in disgust. “Better stock up on the chocolate then…”


“Ah… and no human food either…”


“Rapidly going off this whole sodding idea…” the vampire grumbled like a sulky child refused his usual sweets.


The English wiccan commented disapprovingly, “It’s only for a couple of weeks, William, surely you can make a few sacrifices for such a short time?”


When Spike grunted his grudging acquiescence Althanea came to the last item on her list.


“Talking about sacrifices… For a full forty-eight hours before the Blessing I’ll need you to sequester yourself away from all outside influences to fast and meditate, William. We’ll have to select a safe place around which the girls and I would be able to weave an isolation spell to keep all sights, sounds and scents from intruding.”


She turned to Buffy and apologised, “I’m afraid I’ll need to block your Bond for that period too, Buffy. I know your emotional link is very comforting for you, but it would be highly distracting for Spike to remain connected to your emotions while he’s trying to meditate and also while we do the Blessing ritual.”


Buffy immediately started to object, but broke off before she could really get going. She heaved a big sigh. “I guess if it’s absolutely necessary… I’m so not going to enjoy being cut off from Spike for two whole days and nights.” She slumped in her seat dejectedly as she faced Spike and clung to his hand adding, “But I guess it’s only fair. You had a far longer separation from me while you were off portalling. I… I guess I should get to see what it’s like.”


Giles gently reminded her, “Don’t forget, Buffy, you’ll also have to endure the absence of your Bond with Spike after the Hellmouth is destroyed until he returns to ‘fight beside Angel’. We have no way of knowing how long your wait might be and I feel a break of two days would be the ideal duration to give you an idea how difficult you might find an extended separation and to give us an opportunity to come up with some coping strategies for you.”


Spike was on his way into the kitchen to check if he had any animal blood in stock while Buffy showed Giles and Althanea out when the Slayer suddenly squealed and started hopping up and down on the spot excitedly exclaiming, “Oh! Oh! Oh! Just call me Ideas Buffy! I know the perfect place!”


Once the front door had been closed again and she had everyone’s attention Buffy explained, “The Buena Vista!” She turned to Spike. “Don’t you remember? Mr DuRose said we just had to let him know when we wanted to come for another visit! You could do your meditation thingy in the beach cottage where we did the Claim ‘cos it has nothing but positive vibes and it’s small enough that Althanea and Tara and Willow should easily be able to do their ‘shut everything out’ spell around it…” She spread her arms triumphantly, “…and then the Blessing could be out in the dunes!”


She turned to Althanea and asked, “That would be okay, wouldn’t it? There’s miles of dunes that nobody goes into except a few trail bikers and hikers… and at five in the morning?” She made a sweeping gesture. “Totally deserted!” Warming to her theme she added, “And just think, the sound of the surf and the fresh ocean breeze and no artificial lights or sounds of human activity for miles… you can’t get much more back to nature than that!”


******


Spike ambled through the familiar tunnels towards the Magic Box.


The past week or so had been unusually busy in the Summers household, what with constant ‘planning meetings’ for the Soul Blessing which as far as he could see accomplished very little other than to increase his own level of apprehension, and a constant stream of female visitors invading the dining room to use Joyce’s trusty old sewing machine to run up endless shapeless garments in a truly boring shade that he would have called ‘beige’ but which he had been repeatedly assured was in fact ‘ecru’.


He and Buffy had established a regular schedule for sparring at what had been dubbed ‘The Training Warehouse’. Although they always started out as extremely productive training sessions, to his immense satisfaction they invariably ended up as marathon shagging sessions. To their house-mates’ relief this development considerably reduced the need for earplugs at night as with the opportunity to let off steam where nobody could hear the screams and roars or complain about the shaking building, their lovemaking in their own bed was now almost entirely of the quieter gentler variety.


Then there was Buffy’s increasing preoccupation with her Self-defence class. A few days before she was due to take her first class she had suddenly panicked when she realised she was going to have to do some actual work to organise lesson plans so that her students wouldn’t be left standing about idle while she stood out in front of them like an idiot as she tried to figure out what she was supposed to be doing. This had led to protracted consultations both with Giles and with Matt, the self-defence instructor.


On top of that was her continuing enthusiasm for her ‘Bonny’ and her progressively more transparent excuses for taking her for a spin. She not only insisted upon taking Dawn to school on the bike daily and then fetching her – which Dawn didn’t object to in the slightest - but three times she’d taken him on ‘bike patrols’ through the more remote parts of town, which to be honest had been enormous fun. The enjoyable exercise had also had the unintentional side-effect of increasing by a considerable margin their accuracy when throwing stakes and shooting crossbows from a moving platform.


Now she’d even started zooming off to the convenience store at the drop of the hat to get odd items for which she’d discover an urgent yet strangely previously unrecognised need.


This afternoon Dawn was staying late at school taking part in some sort of class project. To pass the time until she could collect her, Buffy was at the Community Centre discussing her individual students with Matt.


Tara had taken the opportunity of having both Summers girls out of the house for a few hours to brew up the special herbal soap Althanea had decreed necessary to ‘purify’ them all before the soul rite.


Spike had forgotten how truly repulsive soap-making could smell. When he was human the family had always made it a point to be out of the house for the day when the kitchen maids boiled up the laundry soap they had made three or four times a year. Before Tara had been working for more than a few minutes he had been forcibly reminded of the stench and was desperate for any excuse to get away.


That was when he had recalled his intriguing discovery in the Council’s archives for the first time since the day Buffy had passed her bike test. He rummaged through the accumulation of miscellaneous bits and pieces that automatically got transferred from the pockets of dirty jeans consigned to the wash to the clean replacements and eventually located the scrap of paper upon which Tara had described the book she had seen.


He expertly dodged past the series of ingenious booby traps Xander had set up in the tunnel to dissuade random demons from approaching the subterranean entrance to the store, then ran his hand down the rock wall until he found the crack concealing the little protrusion that when depressed triggered the catch on the entrance. The pivoted section of wall swung inwards, he stepped through and carefully pushed the attached shelves back into place, ensuring he heard the tell-tale click of the hidden latch.


He could immediately hear voices from the store above and decided to wait until Anya had dealt with her customers before going up to look for the book. He passed the time by poking about the shelves to see if anything new and interesting had come in since his last visit.


After a few minutes the noisy bell above the door clanged and Spike set off up the steps into the shop, tucking a wad of burba weed into an inner pocket of his duster. Burba weed wasn’t human food, was it? He had to have something to make the animal swill he was being forced to feed on palatable.


He opened the door at the top of the stairs only to be brought up short by the sound of Xander Harris’ voice. He knew Anya wouldn’t object to him looking through the Watcher’s books and ‘borrowing’ one, but somehow he doubted if Xander would have the same permissive attitude. He would certainly demand answers and would also no doubt insist upon asking Giles if he was allowed to have the book and in the process force him to share his potential discovery before he was ready.


He sighed with frustration and sank down to sit on the top step, leaving the door slightly ajar so he wouldn’t miss hearing when the young man left. What had started out as a simple little project to pass the time and possibly help his Slayer was steadily becoming more and more bothersome.


At first he made a point of tuning out the exchange between the former lovers. He was aware that Xander was still trying to persuade Anya to return to him but that she was still resisting, and he wasn’t particularly interested in witnessing the vengeance demon turning him down yet again. While it had been entertaining at first to watch the young man humiliate himself, the situation was now becoming increasingly boring.


His attention was drawn to them however when Anya’s shrill voice declared, “I don’t understand why you keep coming into the store when you have no intention of buying anything or even looking at the research books. You keep talking about things that are of no interest to me and distracting me from my business and that’s not good. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be at work now? You’re neglecting your own gainful employment and causing me to neglect mine by your unnecessary presence!”


“I just wanted to see you, Ahn. I never get to see you any more.”


“Well of course not. That’s what happens when you break up with someone, you don’t get to see them so often any more.”


“I miss you…”


“You mean you miss the orgasms you had with me. You should go out and find someone else to give you orgasms. Someone who isn’t currently a demon. Because in case you’ve forgotten, I am one. A demon that is. Something that as far as you are concerned needs to be Slain.”


“You don’t have to be…” A plaintive whine was creeping into the young man’s voice.


“But I choose to be.” Spike couldn’t help feeling sorry for Anya as her voice started taking on a decidedly desperate, defensive tone. “I think I’ll probably stay a demon for a long time, possibly several centuries, the perks are really good now that I don’t have to answer to Hoffy and I never did feel very comfortable as a human. After all the ranting about demons you’ve done in the past you can’t suddenly start pretending you want to be with one now.”


There was a short period of silence that had Spike hoping Xander was about to leave, but he was disappointed.


“I’ve been wondering Ahn… why did you colour your hair brown again? I really liked the blonde…”


“I know you did, Xander. I may have difficulty understanding some things but I’m not a complete idiot. When we started having sex I know you hoped that Buffy would be jealous and realize you were the perfect man for her all along. When it became increasingly clear she wasn’t jealous and didn’t like you that way, you simply decided to make the best of it with me because you couldn’t find anyone else you liked better who would have sex with you. Then when in my confusion at becoming human again after so long I said and did things that embarrassed you, you started trying to change me so I’d be more like her as a substitute for what you couldn’t have… a bit like the way Spike had the Buffybot built the way he wanted when he thought Buffy would never love him.”


“No Ahn! It wasn’t like that! It wasn’t like that at all!”


“Are you saying that back when we first started dating you wouldn’t rather have been with Buffy?”


There ensued a very telling silence.


“I knew it.” She sounded resigned and sad as she continued, “Xander, however much I tried to change to please you, no matter how blonde I went to be like her - Oh, and by the way, in case you really didn’t know, Buffy isn’t a natural blonde any more than Willow’s a natural redhead. Hello, can you say henna, anyone? - no matter how much I changed the way I dress to be like her, changed the way I acted to be like her and changed the way I spoke to be like her, I’m not a Buffybot you can program appropriate reactions into. I’m still me, Anyanka, the thousand year old demon who speaks her mind, sometimes gets baffled by human behaviour and constantly embarrasses you. I’m never going to be her. I’m never going to be Buffy.”


She sounded as if she was on the verge of tears as she concluded, “I’m a demon, Xander. I’m a demon and I like being a demon. You don’t want to be with a demon, you want a human girl… a girl like Buffy. But you can never have Buffy because she’s going to be with Spike for the rest of her life, and even if she wasn’t, she still wouldn’t want you.”


There was another lull in the conversation that easily qualified for ‘the most awkward silence ever’ and Spike had just decided he would leave and come back another time to find the book when Xander spoke.


In a broken voice he finally admitted, “You’re really never going to come back to me, are you, Anya?”


“And if I did… would you tell Willow she had to leave?”


“What?”


“Because you know she and I could never live under the same roof.”


“But… but she’s Willow… I can’t just…”


She sniffled and said, “Yes, I thought so. As far as you’re concerned Willow’s needs will always come before mine. Just as I expected. Don’t worry, Xander. You don’t have to upset your precious Willow. I’m really not coming back to you.” She blew her nose noisily. “Now I’m all upset and my nose has gone red and my eyes are swollen and my mascara’s run and my face is all blotchy and I don’t want customers to see me this way so I’m going to close the store and go home, so please leave.”


“Uh… oh, okay. Should I… that is if you’re upset… I… Would you like me to give you a ride home to save you the walk?”


“No Xander. I’m upset because of you, so you’re the last person I want to spend more time with.” She gave an impatient little sigh. “Besides, I’m not going to walk home.”


“But you just said…”


“Xander, I don’t have to walk anywhere I don’t want to. I can teleport myself home before you even get to your car.”


“Oh! Oh, right.”


It only took moments for Anya to hustle a despondent Xander out of the door, lock it behind him and flip the sign. Then after she’d checked the other doors, switched the lights off and whimpered to herself that she’d come back to count the takings later when she was ready to be cheered up and wouldn’t make the money all soggy, there was the tell-tale whisper of an inrush of air that informed Spike that she’d teleported away.


The vampire stood and stretched and emerged into the shop, looking around to check he wasn’t being observed. Seeing a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye he glanced out of the window and saw Xander Harris sitting hunched on the kerb with his head cradled in his hands. Spike almost felt sorry for him. Almost.


When the young man heaved an enormous sigh, stood up and then deliberately straightened his shoulders before walking off, Spike shrugged and headed for the research books.


******

It was too early to be up. Far too early if you were a vampire whose instinctive inclination was to go into a deep sleep at sunrise.


Spike stumbled downstairs with his eyes only half open, his hair uncombed, his jeans beltless and only half buttoned and his t-shirt on back to front and only partly tucked in. Leaning against the kitchen wall as his eyes drooped closed again he mumbled groggily, “Explain to me again why I’m not asleep.”


Dawn and Buffy both looked up from their bowls of cereal and giggled at him.


Buffy explained apologetically, “Dawn’s going to be sleeping over at Janice’s tonight…”


Spike’s scarred eyebrow went up and he opened his mouth to speak but Buffy answered his question before he had a chance to ask it. “…And yes, I have checked with her mother. She’ll pick them up from school this afternoon and take them in in the morning, then she’ll go back with Janice again tomorrow to finish up and they’ll call when they’re ready for me to go collect her. They have a big project to finish and have promised faithfully to work on it and not sneak out and get into any Hellmouthy trouble.” She glared warningly at her sister.


Dawn teasingly grumbled, “I don’t know. You go on just one double date with a couple cute vampires and you never hear the last of it…”


Buffy rolled her eyes. “Riiiight… Anyway… I’m gonna be out longer than usual this morning ‘cos I’ll be taking Dawnie’s sleepover bag to Janice’s before I come home and Tara’s already gone to an early class and the furniture is supposed to be being delivered this morning so I needed you to be up and dressed and ready to let the delivery guys in in case it arrives before I get back.” She ran out of air and took a deep gasping breath. “Okay?”


“Got it. Wake up and open door when delivery guys arrive.” He turned to go into the living room but paused when he thought of something. “Hey! I can’t invite them in… how they gonna bring the stuff in? It’s not as if I can go out into the lovely sunny Californian morning to help.”


Buffy grimaced guiltily. “Oh darn. I never thought of that. We’ll just have to hope I’m back in time. If not you’ll have to get them to start unloading the truck and stall them until I get back.”


“Right. Wake up and open door when delivery guys arrive and stall them until you get here to invite them in with the goods.” He pried one eye open to see where he was going and shuffled into the living room, dragged the beanbags into a line, took a couple of steps back and took a flying leap onto them. He wriggled a bit to get comfortably nestled into the shifting surface, scratched his nose and sighed deeply, instantly asleep.


The next thing he knew was Buffy urgently shaking his shoulder and excitedly urging, “Wake up, sleepyhead! I need you to take the beanbags down to the basement. They’re here with the furniture and we’ve got to make room!”


Grumbling under his breath, Spike extricated himself from his comfy nest, grabbed the loose fabric at the edges of the beanbags and dragged them towards the basement door, narrowly avoiding a man in overalls walking backwards holding one end of a huge leather chesterfield.


Having arrived at the bottom of the basement steps more or less in one piece buried under a pile of giant beanbags, he was finally wide awake. He toppled the pile over, stood up and put his clothing to rights before going back up into the kitchen in search of his breakfast, just in time to catch one of the deliverymen approaching Buffy holding what looked like a miniature traffic cone.


“Uh… excuse me miss, I’m afraid Charlie tripped over your gnome in the front yard and broke it.”


“My huh?”


“Your gnome, miss. Little guy with a white beard and a red pointy hat? He was standing under your tree, but I’m afraid he’s smashed beyond repair.” He held up a black plastic object with trailing wires. “Part of your home security system? Ingenious…”

TBC