The price is right ( 9), by dutchbuffy2305

Rating: R

Timeline: Season 7, AU after Showtime, some spoilers of eps after that

Summary: How to get everything back former goddess Artemis took in exchange for the girls?

Disclaimer: All Joss's

Feedback: Yes please, to dutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk

Author's note: My apologies for some mixing up of Greek goddesses, for those who know about that stuff. When I had the idea for this fic, I didn't bother to check up the myths I was using, and it appears now I've mixed things together. Oh well. Pretend it's all made up, will you?

"So, you're just gonna like, dig in?" Dawn asked, a big 'ew' written on her face. "Unsanitary much?"

Willow looked a little apologetic. "Well, basically, yeah. You can't have plastic on you hands with magic, you know. It would shield the natural energy, wouldn't work so well."

"So," Anya said, "if we had wrapped you in plastic wrap instead of a binding spell when you were Darth Willow all might have been avoided?"

A dark flush rose on Willow's face. Anya caught a few of the looks directed at her and rolled her eyes. "I was just making an interesting observation on magic in general. What's wrong with that?"

"We've all made our mistakes, Anya. It's just hard if people keep mentioning them."

Willow returned her attention to the pale blue Tupperware bowl full of brains. "Giles, you ready? Xander, you ready to hold Giles?"

The men nodded. Both looked mighty pale, Spike thought. Willow herself wasn't looking too fresh either, but she'd been working on spells all night. He felt a vague nagging feeling that he couldn't name about the fact that he and Buffy had been enjoying both the pleasures of love and a good night's sleep.

The young witch dug in with both hands. Spike looked on with fascination. He could vividly remember the feel of soft brains dissolving under his hands, from the days he'd still felt the need to prove to Dru that the was every inch as bad and mean as Angelus was. Willow threw her head back, the cords in her neck thick with tension, eyes turning black. She chanted words he couldn't understand, probably not Latin then, although her accent was at best atrocious. She lifted her gory dripping hands from the bowl and advanced on Giles. Giles blanched and quailed, and would probably have fled if Xander hadn't gripped him firmly and held him still, although he looked a little white himself. Must be all kinds of weird seeing your kindergarten friend turn into the Wicked Witch of the West. Again.

Willow plunged her hands straight into Giles' cranium, and Spike flashed back to Glory doing the same to him on different places in his body. Giles screamed. Xander turned even paler, and Spike started to walk toward them quickly, thinking Xander was going to lose it. Faith was closer than he was and gripped Xander firmly round the ribs. She, too, was white as a sheet. Spike heard the thundering of Dawn's boots on the basement stairs and was glad she was leaving, at last. This was not a sight for a seventeen year old.

Willow finished with a last vocal flourish, the sound of her voice reverberating unpleasantly inside Spike's own skull. His back teeth ached. She truly had a lot of power. Willow withdrew her hands from Giles' head and staggered back to her chair. She slumped down with a sigh, awkwardly holding her dirty hands in front of her. Spike saw the others turn to Giles, who was looking worse than he had before, and handed Willow some paper towels for her hands.

"Thanks, Spike," she said with a wan smile. She studied him for a moment with her big eyes all sunken and tired. "You seem even more soulful than you did when you had one, did you know that?"

Spike didn't know what to make of that and didn't answer. He was just trying to help Buffy, wasn't he? Didn't matter too much about the soul, for most day-to-day things anyway. Not as if handing someone a handful of paper towels was a big moral decision. He'd done as much for Dru, even for Darla, in the midst of their worst excesses.

He walked over to the little group clustered around Giles. His eyes met with a very sharp glance from Giles' eyes.

"Feeling better, Watcher?" he inquired.

"Hardly," Giles said acidly. "I know more about Luke Skywalker and Rogue than I've ever wanted to. Not to mention that the feeling of being inadequate seems all-pervasive."

That sounded encouragingly like the old Watcher. They might have expected Giles and Andrew's knowledge, and even personalities, to get a bit mixed, in hindsight. It just wasn't a possibility they had discussed. Willow might be the end-all-and-be-all in the magic stakes, but Giles was still the guy they needed to point out the nasty bits everyone had overlooked.

Giles heaved himself out of his chair, using his arms to lever himself up, and Spike could see Buffy was noticing this too. He wasn't young anymore, was Rupert, and by rights he should be out of the line of fire.

"I need a bit of fresh air," Giles said. "Alone."

They watched him totter up the stairs, holding on to the railing with white-knuckled hands.

"Willow? Do you think Giles will be okay?" Buffy asked worriedly.

Willow flapped a boneless hand. "I guess. It went okay, you know, everything that was in there," and she pointed vaguely at the Tupperware bowl, "is back in Giles' head. If it was enough, I can't say. And I feel like a dork for not thinking about Andrew's knowledge. Of course there was a risk of it getting mixed in." She looked up at Buffy tiredly. "We'll have to wait until Giles tells us himself, Buffy."

Buffy gestured to the bowl. "Um, is there anything left for Andrew himself, or are the brains just, um, used up?"

Willow raised her eyebrows. "Only one way to find out…" She flexed her hands, as if readying herself to plunge them back into the bowl.

"Will, you look kinda beat," Buffy said frankly. "Can we wait until later?"

"Not really, Buff. He's not getting any fresher." The girls looked at Spike, who grimaced at his role of team nose, but had to confirm Willow's assessment.

"It's okay, Buffy," Willow sounded terse. "I'll get it done."

"Whaddya need, Will? Extra oomph? I got it. Spike's got plenty, Faith – take what you need."

"Yeah…" Willow didn't seem convinced. "I can do it without extra strength. It isn't as complicated as straining the brains. Andrew was a whole being once, so I don't have to row upstream to put him together, so to speak. The natural desire of things to be whole will work with me here."

Matter-of-factly, she retrieved her bags with their bloody contents from the fridge and upended them without ceremony on the sheet still covering the basement floor. She mumbled a few words and the stuff started sliding together, seemingly of its own accord. The flesh attaching itself to the pitiful bones made fleshy, sucking sounds. Buffy reached behind her to grip Spike's hand and he saw the silent 'ew' form on her face.

They watched for a few minutes, but to Spike it soon became clear that there simply wasn't enough flesh to assemble a whole human being. He looked at Willow, but she seemed oblivious, her eyes deep black, staring at the slowly growing and pulsing object on the floor, murmuring unintelligible words.

He checked to see what Buffy thought of it and discovered she had averted her face.

Xander beat him to it. "Willow! Stop! This isn't going to work. This is never going to be a complete human being. We could never bring this thing to life again! Willow!"

Buffy stepped forward. "Willow, Xander is right. Stop, this is pointless."

Willow waved them away with one hand, never missing a beat in her concentration on her gruesome spell work.

"Buffy, we have to stop her. Is it dangerous to stop a witch in mid-operation?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "How would I know? Come on, Spike, Faith, on three!"

Spike put his hands over Willow's mouth, while Faith and Buffy grabbed her hands and pushed them down. Willow struggled wildly and tried to bite him, but it wasn't until he saw the green return in her eyes that he let go.

"What!" It was a furious screech. "I wasn't going evil! I was just putting Andrew back together!"

Xander grabbed Willow's hands. "Will, please, look at it! That's never going to be a real boy again. It would be cruel to finish it and force Artemis to animate it."

"But- but you told me I had to try. I knew it wasn't gonna work, but you made me try!" Willow was nearly crying, confused and angry.

"I know, Will. It's just – you were so busy doing the spell that you couldn't see what we could. That it was hopeless."

There was a silence.

At last Faith broke it. "We have to bury it – him. Want me to do it?"

Buffy turned to Faith gratefully. "Yes, please. I really…appreciate this, Faith."

"Five by five, B." Faith replied with a nod and got to work, folding the plastic sheeting in so she could carry it as one bundle.

She looked up. "Is anyone going to say a couple words? 'Cause I never knew the guy, I wouldn't know what to say."

Xander stepped forward silently and took up one side of the bundle. Buffy put out a tentative hand on Willow's shoulder and squeezed it. "You okay, Will?"

"Yeah. Sorry, I lost it for a moment, I guess. Not going evil, though."

"We know. Will, we have to start preparing the summoning of Artemis. I was hoping you and Giles could make a plan for the magical side of all this?"

"Sure. I'll go find him." Willow rose and slowly made her way out of the basement.

Buffy followed the slight figure with a frown on her forehead. "She's getting tired."

"Yeah," Spike answered. "To be expected, innit? What are your orders for me?"

She looked back at him with surprise. "Orders?"

"You're putting people to work left and right. Why not me?"

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Suggestions? Xander told me you played general when I was away…"

"That's right, I did, I suppose. Somehow, old Rupes was a little off his game the last few days."

"Really," she said. "That's weird. Now. How would you set this up?"

Spike smiled at her. "Let me get pen and paper," he said, ideas forming as he spoke. They left the basement in their turn to join the others at the war council.

"Alright," Giles started, his fingers kneading the bridge of his nose constantly, "why would we try to summon Artemis? In my opinion, the risk is too great. We lost massively the last time, and in spite of Willow and the Slayers, I can't see any other outcome this time. Resistance is futile."

"But Giles," Buffy protested, "We owe it to Andrew and the others to try. How else can we get Andrew back, or Spike's soul?"

"As you've said yourself, Buffy, there are several other options for souls. And as for Andrew – I'd like to remind you of your own resurrection from the dead – at God knows what cost. We can't allow Willow to try it, even though it was a magical death, and I can't see that we could persuade Artemis to do it for us. Indeed, I doubt even she could do it. Life and death are no small matters even for Gods."

There was not much to be said to that.

Giles held up a finger to get everyone's attention again. "On the other hand, I fear that our gathering up of Andrew's, um, remains, will attract her attention to us. Presumably, scattering Andrew's torn body over the earth was her traditional sacrifice of her lovers. Willow, I'm sure you noticed the resemblance to the death of Adonis."

"Absolutely," Willow said, lifting her chin staunchly.

"Sure," Spike growled. "So what?"

"Logic dictates she might not like her sacrifice to be disturbed. We must be careful and prepare against her return."

Giles continued rubbing his forehead and nose. Spike couldn't decide if he had a headache or was compulsively missing his glasses.

"So, "Buffy tried to sum up, "you think we basically shouldn't summon her because the risk is too high, but she will probably come on her own, so we might as well summon her after all?"

"Yes, that is essentially correct," Giles answered.

"Any idea when?"

"Um, no. Unfortunately not."

"Okay, Spike, we have to draw up a line of defense. Let's get to it."

"While you're off playing Leia and Han Solo, Willow and I will prepare our defensive magic," Giles said coldly and turned away.

"Giles, I have to say, you are creeping me out majorly. Could you tone down the geek-references a bit? It's downright unnatural."

"I like it," Xander said, coming in from the backyard. "We talk the same language now, G-man!"

Giles shuddered and briefly closed his eyes. "Indeed, we do. Xander it might be best if you dug up Andrew' body. We might need it in exchange for Artemis's demands."

"What? We just buried the guy! I said nice things about him, too, about redemption and stuff!" Xander looked imploringly at Buffy.

Buffy shrugged. "Do what Giles says, Xander. It's not as if it's really Andrew, you know."

"I know that! It's just not respectful to the dead…"

"Survival first, Xander."

"Just promise me, Buffy, that you'll give me a proper burial if my time comes," Xander said, shaking his head. "Not shove me down in that hole in your backyard, okay? I want a real grave and a stone, so you can bring me flowers."

Buffy hugged Xander. "Of course I will. It's a promise."

"Me too," Willow said.

"Seconded!" Giles mumbled from behind his books.

Buffy turned and raised her brows to Spike. He shrugged. "A nice urn by your bedside, love? Or maybe just sprinkle me over some roses. Whatever."

"Okay," Buffy said, "now that we're all serious and all, I don't mind so much about which grave, but promise me you won't resurrect me this time."

"Promise," Willow said in a small voice.

"Promise," Xander and Giles echoed.

Spike just nodded. "Course I wouldn't love. Knew you hated it."

****

"Spike?"

"Buffy?" Spike looked up from the sofa he was shoving aside.

"C'mere," Buffy said.

"Always…"

He smiled at her as he walked towards her and her heart did a double Axel. How could a smile make her feel so...? There had been no smiling Spike for a long time, she guessed. Not since she broke them up, probably. She liked his smile even better than, say, his abs or his hands. Thinking about these body parts made her want to touch them, right now.

Her voice was a little scratchy, suddenly. "Wanna come upstairs with me?"

He stood close now, and smiled down at her again. He didn't answer, just tucked away a stray hair behind her ears.

"How tight you make your face, Buffy," he said softly. His thumb drifted over her lips, smoothing them into their natural shape.

Buffy felt not just her lips, but also her whole face, her whole body, soften and relax in response to that touch. This was how a puppet must fell if the puppeteer let go of the strings, all slack floppy limbs going willy-nilly, released from the taut commands.

Spike held her without speaking, and Buffy felt her eyes fall shut and started to drift off in sleep, standing up. Spike lifted her up and carried her across the room. She kept her eyes closed. She felt Spike going upstairs. By the amount of steps he took and by the faint welcoming smell, she knew they were in her bedroom. Their bedroom. The door clicked softly shut. She was put down on her bed, deposited as carefully and gently as if she was a baby.

Still she didn't open her eyes. It was wonderful to pretend like this, to play will less and helpless. Her clothes were peeled off by hands so gentle, so skilful that she hardly felt their touch. The feather light touches changed her skin into a tingling receptive membrane. It encased her body like a living glove, and she felt the warming blood flow through it, and knew it was connected to every part of her.

The touches stopped. She felt a slight flow of air over her skin and knew she was naked. Her nipples hardened in the cool air and she arched her hips, silently inviting the touching to resume.

A slightly cooler body nestled against hers. It had many textures. Velvety smooth against her breast, a rougher feel against her legs, different kinds of sensations against her face, moist softness of lips, bump of nose, flutter of lashes.

Buffy sighed softly, and lips nibbled hers, a tongue licked insistently until her lips opened of their own accord. Her tongue met Spike's. Touching tongue with Spike wasn't ordinary yet, or not yet again, it reminded her of the first electric shock and naughtiness she'd felt when she kissed her little friend next door, Bennie, when they were five. She turned her whole body into the kiss, sliding her legs around his hips, feeling his erection press against her stomach.

She opened her eyes. The filtered afternoon light turned Spike's hair into fancy restaurant butter, and allowed her to see the texture of the skin on his face. Not quite smooth, not a young boy anymore, just lightly touched by the first ravages of maturity, a few laughter lines by the eyes, a frown line on the forehead. Buffy touched his scarred eyebrow, feeling the pink scar tissue and the light brown hair. His eyelashes were much darker than his eyebrows, and there were lilac shadows on his eyelids.

She was so caught up in the observation of these details, that the sensation of his cock sliding home into her pussy almost shocked her. She twitched and gasped, squeezing her eyes shut in a reflex, her fingers digging into Spike's shoulders. After a bit, she could see again, and now the face so close to hers didn't have its attention turned downward, and the blue eyes stared right into hers.

Buffy felt herself blink, and blink, and blink again and then suddenly, in a flood of sensation so pure it was almost pain, she had an orgasm. She knew her mouth was open and her eyes screwed tightly shut, her body scrunched up like a person in labor, and she thought she must be like a total spaz, going iton convulsions because her lover had slid in and out of her twice.

She started to come down and she could see her skin was bright red down her neck and breasts, and she felt her cheeks flame. She hid her face in Spike's neck, and although she meant to say something like, sorry to be such a spaz, what she actually said was, "I love you, Spike," and he smiled at her sweetly, and then not so sweetly. He pushed her body down and her legs up and started thrusting harder, at the perfect angle for her G-spot, so that she could only lie there twitching and gasping and moaning, being completely unable to lift a finger, only to just come and come and come again.

She couldn't open her eyes. They were gummed together or something. Spike turned her over on her knees, pushed a pillow under her head, and then slid inside her from behind. This was the position that gave her the very best, longest and strongest orgasms, and she could only mumble into the pillows and scrabble weakly at the bedcovers.

After a while, she couldn't say how much time had passed, or how many times she'd come, Spike grunted and leaned down heavily on her. Good. She rolled out from under him and pushed one of the pillows over her head, waiting for him to slide his body against hers and curl up for a well-deserved sleep.

"Buffy! Buffy, don't go to sleep. We need to get downstairs for the spell. Buffy!"

Buffy was perfunctorily wrapped in a robe and marched out to the bathroom. With a sigh she got in the shower and leaned against the tiles, ready for a nice hot shower to wake her up slowly. The cold water hit her with brutal intensity, and her scream echoed loudly in the small room.

With a bang, the lock was forced open and Xander tumbled into the bathroom, coming to the rescue. He halted uncertainly and averted his eyes after a moment, when he saw Buffy was naked in the shower.

"You have my permission to stake him," Buffy said with chattering teeth. "This water is cold!"

Xander hesitated. "Um. Yeah," he said, and took off, shaking his head.

TBC