Spike watched the watcher's home from across the courtyard. The annoying boy had left but Giles remained out of his reach. He couldn't get close enough to knock on the door thanks to the bloody flowers. He had heard half of the stilted conversation between the stupid git and Buffy.
"She calls you to talk about a dream with portents of doom and you don't even invite her over to research it in more detail." Spike tossed a rock at the apartment door. "Stupid wanker, our girl needs you."
He closed his eyes and leaned back against the stucco wall. His unlife was officially a cautionary tale now. William the Bloody, slayer of slayers, was now the slayer's pet. He growled. It wasn't some vow holding him here anymore. It was her.
She was vicious and cruel, a brilliant fighter. She was glorious in battle, but the real power of this slayer wasn't what made her supernatural. She was amazing because she was so very human, kind and gentle.
His crypt was as posh as she could make it. She had found him a record player and extra needles at some flea market. He had smiled at the relic and thanked her. every day since she had brought him a vintage punk album. Some days she even listened to a song or two, wrinkling her nose in distaste. He shook his head. How had Angelus gone so mad as to try and kill her?
She deserved better than this. Rupert Giles should have chased her down with a ring and begged. There should be a small house or at least a two bedroom apartment filled with weapons, books, and giant stuffed animals. She needed a home, a real one.
Spike shifted again and opened his eyes. He looked at the warm glow of the windows and snarled. Things had to change soon. He'd seen it in her eyes for just a second, but it had been there. He remembered other eyes looking at him like that, two pairs of lovely brown eyes, longing.
The babies would hold her for a while, but he had to find a way to save her. He needed to consider his course. He glared at the watcher's door and headed toward his crypt.
Buffy looked at the boxes filling her room. The gallery was doing well. Her mom needed the space, but she had wanted, just for a minute, to pretend she was a little girl again. She bit her lip and leaned against the door jamb.
"I should have gone to Ethan's or Spike's." Buffy grimaced at the sound of her voice in the empty house. She moved into the room and grabbed her old jewelry box. She tucked it under her arm and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Buffy headed to the living room. She stared at the trunk. Tucked in the corner after the zombie attack, her mother had tried to cover it with some lacy thing. Buffy shook her head and pulled it off, wrapping her jewelry box in it. These were the things that mattered. She knelt and opened it, checking each blade. Her spare weapons were all in fine condition. She considered calling Giles for a ride because getting in Xander's car just wasn't an option, but keeping her watcher clear of Ethan was more important than sparing her back. She put the small box on top the gleaming weaponry, closed the lid, and slid the bolt.
She left her mother's house, knowing she had all the things she needed. The walk to Ethan's was uneventful. He merely nodded when she came up the stairs, deposited her burden next to the door, and curled up on his couch.
Ethan moved awkwardly around the room. He wasn't used to company, at least the kind that wouldn't go to bed with him. She smiled, watching him examine her things with distaste as he passed them on his way to bed. It really was the little things that made it all worth while. She pulled the blanket up over her belly, and tried not to think of the warm bed that wasn't hers.
Olivia smiled at the cab driver as she pulled her bag along behind her. She had gotten finished in New York early and managed to hop a flight. Ripper was going to be over the moon. She smiled as she knocked on his door. It was going to be a wonderful few days.
Ripper answered the door. He looked so restrained in his sweater. She reached out and touched his arm, eager for contact. He flinched away and stepped to the side to allow her entry.
"I caught an earlier flight. I thought you'd be quite happy about it." Olivia looked at the slump of his shoulders, the turn of his body from hers.
"Yes, well, I am researching at the moment." He gestured to the array of books on his desk.
"You could always get back to it with fresh eyes in an hour or two." Olivia stroked his side enticingly. Ripper just stepped away from her again.
"What the hell, Ripper?" She glared at him with her hands planted firmly on her hips. "I haven't seen you in weeks and you won't even buss me on the cheek like you would an elderly aunt that smells of cats."
"I'm sorry, Olivia. This thing between us," he said with a grimace. "It has to be over. I can't continue this. I don't love you and I won't, not the way you deserve."
She stood staring at him. His words seemed foreign, beyond comprehension. She wanted him, and what she wanted she got. It was her rule. Love didn't matter, but her happy future was on the line. They hadn't even argued. She looked at him again. He was hurting. He was in love, just not with her.
"Love isn't everything. No matter what the bloody Beatles said." She stepped up to him and placed her hand on his chest. "We are good together. We could have a life, children, the perfect package. It would be comfortable."
"I have a life here. I am comfortable enough here." Ripper gently pushed her hand away.
"So, it is that silly blonde that comes round. You told me she was a student, just a friend. You think she'll ever look at you, ever see you?" Olivia shoved his chest, trying to reach the anger inside him. If she pushed him hard enough, Ripper would punish her. She shivered in anticipation and shoved him harder. "That bit of fluff will only ever see you for your brain. She's probably using you to bolster her grades."
"Stop it, Liv. This won't make a difference. We've been friends for a long time. I would hate to lose that, but I can't do this any longer." He touched her cheek lightly. "I am sorry."
"You're sorry?" Olivia jerked back from him. "You were something once. I remember what you were like when you were young. Then, you just up and chucked it all for the museum. I never thought I'd see the day when a bit of skirt turned your head."
"You can stay on the couch. It's late." Giles gathered his books and started toward the stairs. He wouldn't fight.
"You won't even be a gentleman and offer me the bed?"
"No, it isn't mine to offer anymore." He never looked at her as he walked up the stairs. Olivia sat on the couch and let her tears come.
The box felt comfortable in his hand. It was an honor to hold it, an honor to use it. He looked to his brothers sensing their satisfaction. The moment was nearly at hand. Their pets scampered about happily, ready to assist them. He stroked his long fingers along the lid. The horrible cacophony would soon be gone and they could begin their true work. He held up the box, displaying it in the moonlight, building the anticipation within them all.