~*[+]*~
EPISODE SIX
The long and the short of it.

When he would look back on it later, Wesley couldn't say that the timing of Buffy and Spike's arrival was at all coincidental.

The twin suns of Pylea were poised to slip below the horizon, one slightly above the other. By some twist of fate, at precisely that moment the linked couple crossed the top of the ridge and their solar counterparts aligned so as to cast golden halos around their matching blonde heads.

The rebels gasped in unison and knelt in reverence, whispering "Gemel" over and over, the word rippled wave-like through the twilight air.

Spike took a step back in surprise but quickly recovered. "Hey!" he chortled, surveying the genuflecting group. "A crop of Spike worshippers. 'Bout time we came across someone with a lick o' sense."

The Slayer rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to reply, only to shut it again. She blinked. "Are they saying what I think they're saying?"

Spike nodded. "Uh huh."

"See, I told ya," Fred piped up. "You're the Gemel. No doubt about it."

"Yeah," the blonde vampire drawled. "Well, that would be just brilliant ... If we knew what the bleeding hell you're all prattling on about!"

The last part came out in a frustrated explosion, causing the rebels to gawk at him in shock.

Their leader hesitantly got to his feet, and gave a deferential bow. "Has the journey from the heavens tired you, oh Luminous One?"

Journey from the heavens?

Spike glared at him. "Look mate, you've got your sodding wires crossed. If there were any place I'm not from that'd be the one. The Slayer maybe, but not me."

Wesley had been observing them with growing amusement. The way this vampire reacted to certain situations was downright fascinating. "They're referring to the prophecy," he announced, attempting to draw the pair's attention.

Buffy jumped and her partner, sensing her fright, tensed noticeably, ready to spring into action. He would defend her with his life if he had to - and probably even if he didn't.

"Jeez, Wesley," she exclaimed in a rush. "How'd you get here?"

"Long story." The former Watcher smiled and gestured to an empty place at the fireside. "Take a seat and I'll explain."

"Oh goody," Spike droned unenthusiastically. "Story time. And me without my marshmallows." He ambled toward the fire, deftly sidestepping a couple of prostrate rebels as he went. Buffy trailed after him, pulling a timid Fred behind her.

Wesley took in the newcomer and was surprised to find that her face was familiar to him. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

The girl froze, giving the impression of a startled deer. "I don't know no one," she mumbled, plopping down at the fireside and finding a sudden fascination with her feet. She stared at them with a fixed expression, her hair falling down to curtain her face.

Wesley raised his brows at Buffy.

"That's Fred," she said. "Angel found her."

"Aha," Wesley nodded. "Say no more. Case closed. Where is Angel?"

The question was followed by an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the fervent mumbling of the rebels, who had recovered from their initial shock and now huddled en masse outside the campfire's circle, and the crackle of the fire itself.

Buffy and Spike exchanged a pained look.

Wesley was filled with a sudden sense of dread. "He's not dead is he?"

"Well, if you wanna get technical..." Spike began.

"He was captured," Buffy said quickly, cutting him off.

"Captured?" Wesley sighed. "So the rescue number is now up to a total of three. Angel, The Host and Cordelia."

Buffy frowned. "Okay, confused now. Why does Cordelia need rescuing? She's the princess isn't she? I bet she's living it up."

"Actually, she was only made princess in order to lure the Belial."

Spike's shoulders slumped at the news. He knew the origins of that word. He'd even had it aimed his way a couple of times. Buffy shot him a glance.

"Oh," she whispered, reading him. "Really?"

The vampire nodded, then abruptly stood and started pacing, his duster billowing cape-like behind him.

Wesley followed the agitated motion, that sense of dread becoming a hard knot in his throat. "Would you care to enlighten me?"

"Angel is the Belial," Fred noted calmly. She glanced up, realized that she had everyone's attention, and swiveled back to focus on her feet again.

"Yeah. He, ah, turned into a big beast thingy and they took him back to the castle," Buffy confirmed. She pinned Wesley with her eyes. "He won't hurt her."

"Of course not." Wesley's reply was instinctive. "It's Angel."

Spike stopped pacing and threw him an exasperated look.

"Bloody hell, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

Wesley blinked at him, but remained silent.

Spike huffed in annoyance. "Look, the whole time we've been in this daft dimension he's been flauntin' all his humany traits, right? Walkin' in the sun. Probably even reflects now too. Know I do."

Wesley nodded. Where was he was going with this?

"So, when he tried on the fangy what he did was release the demon in its purest form. Fully-fledged vamp - wasn't anything human about him. Sodding place split him in two."

"But you said he was still Angel." Buffy was teary-eyed, clearly distressed by the state of affairs. "You said there was no doubt."

"There isn't, pet. Because deep down that's what we really are - the both of us." Spike dropped to sit next to the Slayer, keeping his back toward the fire this time. He bowed his head. "Wanted me to join him, he did," he continued softly. "I could feel him calling me. But you're part of me as much as the demon." He dipped in and placed a kiss on Buffy's forehead. "And we're stronger than it is."

She smiled, reaching up to trace one finger along the familiar curve of his cheekbone. "I know."

"But is Angel?" Wesley asked. "Is he strong enough to control it?"

"Time will tell." Spike didn't take his eyes off his Slayer. "And maybe love."

"Love?"

"It's the greatest power in the known universe, Watcher boy," Spike eyed him over his shoulder with blatant disdain. "Love is everything good and right. That's what'll pull him out of it."

Wesley fell silent, confused. Wasn't Angel in love with Buffy?

Spike snorted, almost as though he'd read Wesley's thoughts. Perhaps he had, he still knew how after all. "Not Buffy, you stupid pillock. Vision girl."

Wesley's mouth dropped open.

"Hey, now he does look like Giles Junior!" Buffy giggled. "You sure you guys aren't related?"

"Reckon all those Watchers are interbred," Spike drawled. Buffy whacked him in absent admonition but the backhanded blow hardly registered.

"Angel and ... and Cordelia?" Wesley finally managed to sputter. "Are you certain?"

"Christ mate, you work with 'em every day. Don't tell me you haven't noticed anythin'."

"Well I..." Wesley trailed off, remembering back over the past few weeks. Angel had been more attentive to his seer of late. There had been a number times when he'd been caught staring at her when he thought no one else was looking. And then there was his urgency in coming after her to Pylea. "Oh my, it's true isn't it? I knew he cared about her, of course, but I never once imagined..."

"I'll bet," Spike scoffed, pulling out his cigarettes and lighting up. "So, what's all this prophecy nonsense then?"

Wesley shook his head, struggling to find his focus. That last revelation was a little hard to come to terms with. "The Host only mentioned it in passing, but it seems that Cordelia's arrival was the first of a series of events prophesized in times past. The Cursed One lures the Belial and both in turn bring the coming of the Gemel."

"And that's supposed to be us?" Buffy's brow furrowed in confusion.

Spike's expression matched his partner's. "How d'you figure?"

"'Gemel' means joined or linked. Either one of a set of twins..."

"The Gemel are the embodiment of the twin suns," Fred chimed in, reciting the legend by rote. She'd heard it so many times. "Two beings of such power that they end the world as we know it and bring about the Golden Age when all cows will be free."

They all turned to stare at her.

"Cows?" Buffy grimaced. "Ew."

"Bloody marvelous," Spike agreed. "Ground beef and dairy products all 'round then is it?"

"The humans here are known as cows," Wesley said. "They are the lowest class of slaves. Beasts of burden." He continued to stare at Fred. "I hadn't heard that last part before though. Silas must have deliberately left it out."

"Silas?" Buffy didn't like not knowing all the players.

"Head Priest of the Covenant of the Trombli," Wesley explained. "They've apparently ruled the dimension for the past few millennia."

"They won't be well pleased having it brought to an end then," Spike eased one leg across to straddle the log that he sat on and tossed his spent cigarette into the fire. "Freein' slaves tends to do that."

"Ah, yes. 'An end to the world as we know it'," Wesley breathed, pieces were slotting into place. "They're not referring to an apocalyptic event at all."

"Well, that brings a big 'yay' from the Slayer camp," Buffy declared. "Cause I so don't need one of those right now."

Spike grinned, edging forward to rest his chin on her shoulder. She shot him a wary glance from the corner of her eye and he batted his lashes at her. Buffy gave a soft snort of laughter and pushed him away.

Wesley watched the exchange with an almost overwhelming sense of curiosity. He'd love to know just how this link of theirs came about, but unfortunately this was not the time. There were more pressing matters at hand. He gestured to the assembled group of rebels. "This is the rebellion against the Covenant."

Spike gave them a scathing once over. "What? All of it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. This is merely a select group of the most capable..."

"Oh, that makes all the difference then. Now I am impressed."

Buffy jabbed a finger into the vampire's ribs and he gave her a hard look, narrowed eyes glinting in the firelight.

They held a silent debate for a moment before Spike sighed and shook his head. "Don't know why I bother," he said ruefully. "You always get me in the end."

"Damn straight." Buffy leant over and planted a kiss on his pouty lower lip.

"I'm really starting to doubt this whole Gemel thing," the small redheaded rebel suddenly declared, moving into view. He pointed at the golden couple. "I mean, Falchion and Annulet here don't look all that powerful to me."

"What'd you call us?" Spike shifted his weight, about to launch himself forward and strangle the impudent git. It would be well worth the headache.

Wesley flapped his hands in a soothing motion. "No. It's okay. It wasn't an insult." He sighed and dug a thumb into his brow, trying to organize his thoughts into something coherent.

"Right," he said, finally. "The references are all askew, jumping around in several different centuries and the Latin's a bit off ... but essentially definitions of the word 'Gemel' also include mechanics. Two separate units working together, like a hinge, are also called 'Gemel'. In most cases that is a hook and loop. Here in Pylea, that apparently translates to 'Falchion' and 'Annulet'."

He indicated a modest span with his hands. "A falchion is a short, curved sword - it's name derived from the Latin word 'falx' for sickle or hook. Annulet literally means 'a little ring' or loop."

Buffy nudged Spike's knee with her own. "Short sword," she whispered gleefully.

The vampire looked offended. "I'm not short."

"Oh honey, of course you're not," Buffy's tone was indulgent. "You're a huge monster of a man. Really."

Wesley's lips twisted. He wanted to laugh outright, but the warning glare he got from Spike subdued the urge. There was murder implicit in those pale blue eyes. "Ahem, yes. Well, I'm guessing that those are the formal astrological names for the suns here, also." He sent a questioning look to the rebel leader and received an affirmative nod.

Buffy frowned. "I don't like it."

"Don't like what?" Spike asked. "What's to like? We got our very own solar system. Neat innit?"

"Not so much." The Slayer stared down at her hands for a moment. "These Covenant guys ... they'll want to kill us won't they?"

Wesley nodded. "I'm assuming as much. The Gemel myth gives hope to the humans. Eliminating you would both crush that hope and reinforce their power base."

"Thought so." Buffy huddled into herself, folding her arms. She looked very small and fragile. "And since the whole lack of Slayery-ness pretty much makes me useless..." Her head suddenly snapped back like she'd been struck. She glared accusingly at Spike.

He glared right back, his expression formidably irate. Wesley could see the master vampire asserting dominance now and the effect was frightening.

The rebels, most notably the skeptical redhead that Wes had secretly dubbed 'Doubting Thomas', moved back out of the way, awed by the authority Spike was radiating. Even the fire seemed to flare up.

Undaunted, Buffy shot to her feet. Spike did the same.

She made to stalk away and he clamped a restraining hand around her wrist. Each move was anticipated before it occurred and effectively blocked. Their eyes remained locked in battle the entire time.

"Stop it," Spike's voice was low and abrasive, a growl bordering on inhuman. "You're not useless. Not to me."

Buffy sniffed, fighting tears, then whimpered and collapsed against Spike's chest. The vampire held her as she wept, stoically supportive, oblivious to all around him. When she eventually stilled, he simply cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, tenderly brushing the dampness from her cheeks with his thumbs.

Wesley felt like he was intruding on something incredibly private. He looked away and found himself face to face with Fred.

She blinked rapidly and then gave him a giddy smile. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" She gestured to the linked couple. "All lovey 'n romantic. Like a fairytale."

"Hmm," Wes mumbled noncommittally, not following the gesture, but continuing to study her. He was intrigued by this young woman and wondered how she had managed to survive so long in such a harsh environment. She had to be much stronger than she seemed.

Buffy and Spike were talking again and he was pulled away from his musings as their conversation escalated, manifesting in bizarre semi-vocal spurts.

"You could..." This from Spike.

"Wouldn't work." Buffy - digging her heels in.

"Bloody would too! What about the -?"

"That's different. It's only..."

Wesley cleared his throat. "What are you arguing about now?"

"Power sharing." Spike only glanced over for a second before returning his gaze to his partner's. "I'm tellin' you Summers..."

Buffy scowled. "Don't call me 'Summers'! You know I hate when you do that!"

"Temper, temper." Spike's lip curled cruelly. He moved in close, menace all but oozing from his skin. He gripped her shoulders and whispered harshly in her ear. "Bloody use it!"

Buffy lashed out, pushing him back and landing a viciously accurate punch on his nose. There was a loud crack and Spike fell backward onto the ground, clutching his face. Blood gushed out between his fingers.

There was a second's silence and then a hesitant round of applause from the rebels.

Buffy looked horrified. "Oh God. Are you okay?"

Spike propped himself up on his elbows and gave her a quizzical look. "What're you feelin' all sorry for?" he asked. "It's not like you haven't busted my nose before."

"Yeah, but that was..." She trailed off, freezing as she realized something. "We did it, didn't we?"

The vampire grinned widely, teeth flashing. "You bet your sweet buns, sunshine!"

She was at his side in an instant, launching herself into his arms. They tumbled backward in the dirt. "I love you, bleach-for-brains!"

Spike returned the embrace, making no attempt to wipe away the trickle of blood running down his face. In fact, they both ignored it, lips fusing together in an enthusiastic kiss.

Fred grimaced. "Okay, that's not so beautiful. That's 'blech'. A gag reflex sort of 'blech'. You know, like what happens sometimes when y'all get somethin' real stink-icky on your shoes."

"I agree," Wesley replied absently. He was more interested in finding out what had just happened. He swore Buffy's eyes had glinted yellow for a second there. Unfortunately, the twosome didn't appear like they would be coming up for air anytime soon. "Uh, Buffy? Spike? Spike!"

"What?" The vampire finally heard him and pulled away from his beloved Slayer. He blinked as though he'd only just noticed their audience. "Oh."

He sat upright, bringing Buffy with him. She smiled, afloat in blissfully euphoric haze, and nuzzled his neck.

Wesley squinted at her. "Is she alright?"

"Bit o' blood rush is all," Spike said. He wiped at his nose, making a sticky red smear across his cheek, and peered distractedly at the residue on his fingers. "Happens with new vamps on occasion. Appears to be a side effect."

"From what? What did you do?"

"Told you already," Spike said. "Power sharing."

Wesley just looked at him.

Was everyone trained by the Council of Wankers this bloody incompetent, or did he just get stuck with the rejects? The vampire shook his head and snuggled the now lethargic Buffy tighter against his chest.

"Slayer's been all frantic about havin' no powers since we've been here, right?" He suddenly realized that the Slayer in question had fallen asleep and the scornful expression on his face dissolved into a soppy grin. He tucked a stray lock of platinum-streaked hair behind her ear before continuing his explanation.

"We've been workin' on this thing where we tap into each other's strengths. Just small-time stuff. Me using her spider sense when I'm patrolling, or her borrowing my vamp-vision." He shrugged. "Figured we could expand on that. Try 'n make more of it."

Wesley's eyes bugged behind his glasses. "You're saying that Buffy used the link to draw physical strength from your demon?"

"Seems to take some pretty strong emotions to do it too. Gettin' her all pissed at me. Kinda like usin' the dark side of the Force, I reckon."

Wesley stared. "Do you realize how dangerous that is? Especially in light of what happened to Angel."

"Worked didn't it? No worries, Junior. We know what we're about." Spike brightened then, making yet another mercurial mood-swing. "Thing is, it'll most likely go both ways when we get back to Sunnyhell." He let out a remarkably childlike giggle. "Spikey the Vampire Slayer," he burbled. "Who'd've thought that?"

Who indeed? Wesley could feel a headache coming on. He wearily massaged his temples.

Spike's merriment eased off as he stifled a yawn. When one of them nodded off like this, the other usually wasn't that far behind. Something to do with brainwaves or breathing patterns or some such rot. Who knew? He didn't much care about the ins-and-outs of all their linky quirks. Simply put: Buffy asleep, Spike really tired.

"Hang on," he regarded Wes with heavy-lidded suspicion as his drowsy brain snagged on a stray thought. "How'd you get out here in the backwoods? Figured you'd be under lock 'n key with the rest of the Peaches Brigade."

"I'm not exactly certain of how it came about myself," Wesley disclosed. "I gave some assistance in a scuffle with a group of palace guards, mostly in defense of my own safety I might add, and suddenly I'm an active member of their rebellion." He gave the vampire a weak, watery smile. "They even promoted me to strategist. Sort of a Master-of-Arms, if you will."

The announcement sent Spike off into another bout of childish giggling, the lighthearted sound so infectious that Wesley found himself joining in.

"I know, I know. I simply don't understand why people keep putting me in charge of things."

"Death wish?" Spike suggested, wiping a tear away from his eye.

"I hope not." Wesley was serious once more. "Because I'm planning on getting us all home in one piece."

~*[+]*~

Buffy woke to the unfamiliar sound of horses and the unpalatable smells of something gross roasting on the fire.

"Guessin' that breakfast'll only make me barf," she muttered, sitting up. She glanced at Spike. He was snoring softly, his head lolling back against the log they'd been resting on. There were some strange dark streaks on his face and it took her a moment to equate them with the breaking-his-nose incident of the night before. She winced at the memory, but then shrugged. He looked all healed now.

She peered around the camp.

Fred was curled in a foetal ball to her left and Wesley sat across from her, wide-awake and watchful, eyeing them through the pungent haze of smoke. She smiled at him. "Morning."

"It is." He held up a misshapen clay mug. "You should try the kallaberry tea. It's surprisingly good."

"Gotta be better than," she squinted at the unrecognizable blob on the spit, "Whatever the hell that is."

"Drasbit," the former Watcher supplied.

"Gesundheit," Spike offered dryly before snapping into a sitting position. When he was awake, he was awake - no snuggling under the covers for this vamp.

Unfortunately, the abrupt movement made him feel strangely light-headed. He blinked dizzily.

Buffy frowned at him. His wooziness was making her all queasy - though that could also have been because of the Drasbit stinkage. "When did you last feed?"

Spike thought back. "Before we left home."

"Home home? Or the dimension home?"

He just looked at her.

Buffy tutted disapprovingly. "There's a supply in the bag," she said. "We could heat it up on the fire."

Spike sighed. "No supply in the bag, love. Noticed when I was on my little smoke-search yesterday."

"Oh," Buffy grimaced. "How did that happen?"

The blonde smirked, leaning back and tucking his hands behind his head. He looked very pleased with himself. "Figure someone got a bit sidetracked during the packing," he said, tongue curling behind his teeth.

The Slayer blushed. "But what are we gonna -?" Her eyes locked with his, widening significantly. "You could..."

"No!" Spike recoiled, all signs of smugness evaporating.

"You don't want to?" Buffy was clearly dismayed by his reaction.

Wesley suddenly realized that they were discussing whether or not the vampire should feed from her. "Here now, I must object!"

They ignored the feeble protest.

"Not a matter of wanting, pet. Biting you would involve making faces of the 'Grr' variety. We can't risk that here."

"Oh for God's sake!" Buffy reached into her boot and pulled out a dagger. Before anyone could protest she ran it across her inner forearm and thrust the wound at her partner. "Suck on that."

Spike stared at her, startled, his blue eyes impossibly pale in the morning light. He took her hand and pressed a soft kiss into her palm before latching onto her arm.

Wesley shuddered. "I can't look."

~*[+]*~

Cordelia became aware of her surroundings slowly, registering the dry itchiness of the straw first. Then she realized that she was curled up on the floor with someone - a male someone who was spooned at her back with one arm tossed possessively over her body, hand resting on the bared skin of her stomach.

She glanced down at the proprietary arm. The brown shirt it wore had been rolled up to the elbow and she noted the dusting of fine dark hair on the powerful forearm, the unblemished skin, prominent veins and the longest fingers she'd ever seen - long, artistic, manly fingers.

Angel.

Cordy shifted, slightly disconcerted by the fact that he was holding her this closely, this intimately. It occurred to her that he was warmer than she'd thought he'd be. Maybe he'd absorbed her body temperature - like a lizard sunning itself on a rock.

Then he did the sleep-mumble thing and pulled her back against him - hard. Jeez! And she thought he was being intimate before!

Angel's touch was affecting her in ways that she'd never expected. There was the physical attraction thing, sure, but that was always there. She'd learned to deal with that. What was disturbing her was the contentment thing. She felt like she belonged right where she was - like the haven of Angel's arms was the only safe place in the world.

Wig alert! Hadn't she already been through the reasons why this wouldn't work?

Cordy edged onto her back, trying to distance herself. Bad move. Now she could see him, and it looked like her movement had jolted him awake.

Angel's eyelids fluttered open, his gaze instantly colliding with hers. He blinked in surprise, then glanced down along her body, taking in the strip of exposed flesh where the borrowed jacket fell open. He paused for a moment, realizing that his hand was curved around her hip. The hand tightened for a beat, but then he pulled it away.

"Sorry," he said. His voice was nothing more than a soft rasp.

"Why?" She was playing with fire now, she knew, but what a way to go...

Angel stared at her then, his eyes impossibly dark. He leant in until his face was a whisper away from hers. His hand returned to rest against her naked midsection, fingers splayed out along her ribs.

"I can feel your heart," he breathed, the huskiness of his voice tugging at her, like callused hands on silk. "It's beating pretty fast. Are you scared of me, Cordy?"

She licked her suddenly dry lips. "No."

Angel gave her a sly smile and lowered his head to gently nuzzle her cheek, taking in the scent of her hair, her skin. Then he pressed a light, chaste kiss against her brow and withdrew to simply look at her, delighting in her flushed cheeks and fever-bright eyes. He felt insanely proud of himself. She was finally reacting to him as a man, not just as a friend.

Cordelia was completely under his spell. Good God, if this was how he'd been with Buffy, then no wonder she'd been ruined for anyone else.

Angel sighed and shook his head, reality returning like a splash of cold water. He was taking advantage of the situation, and she would definitely be pissed at him when she came back to herself.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't have..." He moved away, abandoning her to sit with his back against the stone wall of their cell. He held his head in his hands, fingers fisting in the hair at his temples. "I can't do this."

Cordelia lay still for a moment, trying to regain her equilibrium. "It's okay," she said, though it really wasn't. "I understand. You don't want me. You want Buffy."

Angel gaped. She couldn't be serious. "Don't want -? You think I don't want you?" He let out a humorless bark of laughter. "Cordy, I want you so bad I can taste it."

She sat upright at the revelation, stunned. "You can? You do?"

He ducked his head. "Always."

"But, but... Buffy -?"

"Buffy is with Spike. I told you that already."

"And you're okay with that?" Cordelia's eyebrows arched.

"What Buffy and I had was over a long time ago. Besides, it doesn't even come close to what she has with Spike. They were made for each other. Literally made for each other."

Cordy snorted. "You do realize what is coming out of your mouth?"

"Believe it," Angel said. "You'll understand what I mean when you see them together."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're jealous."

"Not the way you're thinking," he told her. "I don't hate Spike for being with Buffy." He conceded to her skeptical stare. "Okay, I did at first. But I got over it. This is more... What they have is so special, Cordy. It's amazing." He paused, mulling that over. "Up to a point ... then it just gets nauseating."

"So, this is relationship envy?"

"No. Well, sort of, I guess."

Cordelia studied him for a moment, then came over to crouch in front of him. "So what was that all about?" She waved a hand behind her at the pile of straw.

Angel avoided her eyes. "I don't..."

"Don't you even think about giving me the stuttering avoidy-guy speech 'cause that is so old." She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "Tell me, Angel, straight up. What the hell was that?"

"Cordy..." Angel pleaded softly, begging her not to keep at him like this. Their eyes met and held - locked together in a mutual, magnetic attraction and he groaned, giving in.

She wanted honest? He could do honest.

He reached up to grasp her forearms, pulling her toward him. She lost her balance and sprawled against his chest, her face millimeters from his.

"Are you gonna-?"

Her question was cut off as Angel took her mouth in an openly passionate kiss.