TITLE: " Garden of Eden "

AUTHOR: LilHairyEyeball

EMAIL: lilhairyeyeball@allwrongheaded.com

FEEDBACK: Gimme gimme. Just be gentle.

SUMMARY: Alternate Season Four fic, stemming from Something Blue onwards.

SPOILERS: Up through Season 4

RATING: Giving it an R rating, in case I get frisky. Which I tend to do.

DISCLAIMER: Nobody buys me good presents, so I steal other peoples

---

Tonight's patrol seemed to have a little more edge. Now that the Slayer and Spike know what they're looking for, thanks to Giles' handy-dandy imagery. Spike know he can fight alongside the Slayer; they're in pretty high spirits, even as they follow the creepy little bastards into the clock tower.

It's fist and fangs time now, and the Gentlemen and their..dogs are pulling out all the stops. By the time Buffy and Riley face off, Spike is too knackered to care about the implications. So he's a soldier boy. He knew there was something iffy about him all along. Just assumed he was inbred.

---

So, Joe Ordinary is actually soldier come demon hunter? Buffy don't really have time to process this. They've got to get upstairs, like now. Spike is on the same page, clearing a path for her to escape though, and she nod before sprinting up, leaving both of them to fend off the uglies behind her. Of course, an extra pair of hands would be nice when she notices the full creepy Gentleman types up here. Before she knows what's happening, Spike has arrived on scene and has launched himself at two of the Gentlemen, with Riley in hot pursuit. She spots the music box from her dream on a table, and makes her way over, leaving the guys to handle the situation again.

---

The Slayers got some sort of box in her hand now; Spike can see that through the violence. Damn but these beggars are strong. She's staring though, with a look of horror on her face, and Spike looks in the direction she's staring.

Finn. The poor bastard. Somehow he lost his defence and got a scalpel in the neck for his trouble. There's nothing they can do for him now, as he slides to the floor, with a frozen look of panic in his dying eyes.

The Slayer is too preoccupied, and hasn't seen the Gentleman gliding towards her, and Spike can't get her attention. This is starting to become a bad bloody habit, that's for sure. Once again he charges at the danger, sending Buffy flying across the room, and the box smashing to the floor.

That's when they see it. The essence is escaping from the remains of the box. It's the key. The voices. Buffy looks at Spike, with determination and murder in her eye, before he's sent flying backwards into a pile of wood and rubble, a large piece of wall studding going straight through his chest. The Slayer lets out an ungodly shriek, terrified that she's lost both men, and realizes she's screaming. The Gentlemen start to convulse and freak, before their heads explode.

With the immediate danger out of the way, Buffy scurries over to where an un-dusty Spike still lies. The wood has missed his heart by at least three inches, and she lets out a breath she doesn't realize she's been holding. She looks into his eyes, and he grabs her hand, and he nods. Buffy wraps both of her hands firmly around the wood, and pulls. Spike cries out, and relaxes when he feels the foreign object leave his chest with a suck. He lies there for a moment, gathering himself, before sitting upright and checking on his Slayer. She's staring towards the crumpled body of Riley Finn, and he knows she's feeling the guilt. Unsure of how to handle the situation, he cautiously pats her shoulder, in a sign of reassurance, only to find himself with an armful of weeping Slayer within seconds.

He holds her tightly while she cries, taking the opportunity to kiss the top of her head. Being chosen is one hell of a rough gig.

---

He manages to get her back to the dorm room, but there's no sign of Red anywhere. Probably still hitting the books with the Watcher, or worrying with the whelp. They'll soon realize that everything's back to normal; that their friend has once again saved the day.

Who's going to save Buffy though? She had feelings for Finn, that much he'd guessed, but he hadn't realized they were that strong. It's kind of pissing him off, although he really wishes his brain would stop with that crap.

He lays her down on her bed, and slowly takes her shoes off. He hopes she's not wigged herself into a coma or something. Christ almighty, did he just say wigged? He's been hanging around with the goodies for too damn long. And he's so damn tired. He looks down at where the Slayer lies in troubled sleep, and then over to the nice, comfy unoccupied bed next to him. Red's probably gone for the night now, and the Slayer really shouldn't be alone is her..damn it..grief, should she? With that battle of conscience sorted, he shucks off his duster, and stretches out on the single. Cramped, but still more comfy than the chair at Xander's. He really didn't realize how tired he was.

---

When he finally comes to, he's feeling great. No kinks in his body, the hole in his chest feels like it's healing, and someone is stroking his hair.

Eh? That's a new one. He braves opening one eye, to find the Slayer sitting next to him, staring at his face.

"Morning love. Are you feeling better? I want you to know, I did call 911, so Finn wasn't just abandoned or anything. Knew you wouldn't want that." He really is proud of himself for thinking of it. He's getting bloody morals now.

"Hmm, that's nice," she says, almost as if she wasn't paying attention. "You almost died last night." She's expressionless as she states that, and he's not sure where she's going with it.

"But I didn't, did I, pet? I'm fine, and almost healed up. Nothing to fret over."

She frowns at this, as if he's told her he's lost a leg, but plans on becoming a professional football player.

"But you could have. Died, that is. A squidge to the left, and that thing would have gone right through your heart." Her frown deepens now, "and then what? Nothing. Mr. Big Pile of Dust! And I would never have seen you again, and that pisses me off!"

Spike is shocked now, wondering for a moment if she really has gone right round the sodding bend.

"Luv," he speaks, slowly now, as if talking to a child. "I didn't die. I didn't go poof. I don't plan on being staked for a damn long while. It was a near miss, it happens. S'part of life, innit?"

Wait, now she's pouting? What the hell is going on in that head of hers?

"I know its part of life, ass face. It doesn't mean I have to like it. And I was worried. What if something had happened, and then you wouldn't have been around anymore, and I'd have to break the news to my mom, and who would I talk to about how much my friends are pissing me off and.." She breaks down crying, her shaking head resting on his chest. He's amazed. She's completely off her bird. She's raving, and it's about him. Like she'd be sad to see him gone?

"You'd be sad to see me gone?" He's really trying to understand this. Women.

"Of course I would," comes the muffled reply, and she looks up, wide tear- filled eyes staring right into his soul. If he had one, that is. But God, if she didn't make him think anything was possible, when she looked at him like that.

He hesitantly strokes her cheek, wiping a tear from her face, before leaning forward until they're almost touching. "I've got to say, I'd be pretty sad if anything happened to you, either," he whispers on her face. Buffy's breathe hitches, and suddenly her mouth is so dry. But before she can even process the command to lick her lips or swallow, his mouth is on hers.

Spike lips! Lips of Spike are her last coherent thoughts.