Digging up the Bones

Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks go, as always, to Sass. She puts the Spike in… well, Spike.

*****

She woke to the sound of a moan, recognizable even through the veil of sleep as belonging to Giles. Rolling off the armchair, she knelt at the side of the couch before she'd even opened her eyes. "Hey. You're awake. I was waiting for you."

"That was made clearly evident by the sounds of snoring emanating from that side of the room." He curled his legs up against his chest, an awkward position for a man of his size but one that appeared to bring him comfort. "Is it nighttime? I… I can't seem to tell. It's… disorientating, to say the least."

            "Oh. I… I guess it would be." Untangling her blanket from around her legs, she spread it over his legs though she knew he wasn't cold. I need to help him, somehow. If I can't make up for his eyes- and I can't, god, I can't fix it- at least I can help make it bearable. "You should be able to figure it out though."

            "Yes, I'll just pull back the curtain and have a look, shall I?"

"No, do what you taught me, with the blindfold. Use your other senses. Listen to the sounds outside. What do you hear?"

            He cocked his head to the side. "Dogs barking. Birds, and a… a truck of some kind- oh, yes. The bin men collecting the garbage. Ah. It's morning, evidently."

            "Yay you," she said softly, keeping her tone upbeat even as a sour pang settled heavily in her stomach. "Good thing your ears still work."

            "You're quite right. I suppose it's fortunate that my title is not more… comprehensive."

            Because if Set was going for the  symbolism… and he was, damn him. "Yeah. Good thing." She bit down on her lower lip. "Does… do they… your eyes, I mean, do they… hurt?"

            "Everything hurts." Buffy flinched and Giles shrugged. "But no, the… sockets feel normal."

            "Good. That is good, right?"

He inclined his head with a sigh. "Where is Horus?"

            "In the kitchen, I guess. At least, he was there when I went to sleep. He was looking through your books for this spell… but you don't need to worry about that now. He's ancient, he's gotta know more about this stuff than you do." She tapped his eyelids with light prods, assessing the damage. "You look… not great, but okay. Much better than yesterday. It's like… like you're closing your eyes, taking a rest."

            "Some rest." He scowled and ducked away from her touch. "If only that were the case."

            "Sorry," she said, dropping her hand. "I'm just… sorry."

            "It's not your fault."

            "But if we hadn't had that fight… if I'd backed off a little, left you alone, you wouldn't have left and Set wouldn't have hurt you."

            "No, you mustn't blame yourself." Shifting onto his side, he lay quietly, so still that Buffy wondered if he'd fallen back asleep. She fingered the hem of his blanket, picking at the ridges of thread with her fingernails. He must have felt her anxiety; he cleared his throat and found her hand. "It's alright, Buffy. Don't fret so. I'm not dead, after all."

            He doesn't get it yet, how much things are gonna change for him. He doesn't get it, but I do. "You're not dead. And that's a major good. But Giles…"

            "No, listen to me, for once in your life. It's not right for you to feel at fault. We had an quarrel but it was a necessary one, I think. We both said things which we…" He snapped his mouth shut.

He can't say he didn't mean all the things he told me. And… neither can I. Stuff like that doesn't go away just because you wish it would. "It's okay," she said, touching the smooth onyx  of his ring. "I get it. I do."

At that, he smiled. "Well then, perhaps you can explain it to me. I'm feeling rather… lost, at the moment."

Making a face, she said, "I didn't mean that I understood everything. Not exactly philosophy-girl here. But I get that bad stuff has happened. Really bad, and you and I… we've got things between us to work out, big things. But it doesn't matter right now."

"Because of Set."

"Because there are other big things too." Raising her head, she caught a glimpse of Spike in the hallway. She nodded to him, beckoning him into the room. "Good big things that balance out the bad big things. I…" God, I so suck at this. Why can't I tell him? "I… you can't leave me, Giles." I can't do this alone.

Giles flinched, startling her. "I'm here, aren't I? For all the good it will do you."

"What? No, I didn't mean… I only wanted you to know…"

"I understand you perfectly well. As you said, my ears still work." He turned away from her, his body stiff. "Perhaps you should be training."

"But Giles…" And now, he gets it. Life's totally different. Her mouth felt like old paper, dry and dusty. Could be from my foot being stuck inside. "But I didn't…"

            "Go. I… I don't want you here."

            "But Giles, you don't understand. That wasn't what I meant." Hands landed on her shoulders, lifting her to her feet. Spike, grim-faced, urged her towards the door.

            "I understand," Giles repeated. He touched his eyelids roughly with a sound between a groan and a growl. "Oh, do I ever understand."

            "Giles…"

            "Buffy, leave him to it." Spike's hands held her steady. "C'mon, pet."

She let him lead her out, her twisting emotions confusing her so much that she didn't question him as he drew her up the staircase and into her bedroom.

Once he'd shut the door, she snapped out of her daze and glared at him. "You don't have to treat me like that."

            Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned back against the wall. "And how would that be?"

            "Like… like… I need help. 'Cause I don't. I'm just…" A swift shadow of anger passed over her face. "He wouldn't listen! I didn't mean it like that. Like he's useless now, it's not like that. But he wouldn't even let me explain!"

            "It's not like he's in his right mind. Imagine how you'd be if some hellgod came by and took away your power. You think you'd wake up the next morning all peppy?"

            "True. Okay, yeah. But…" Sighing, she sank onto the edge of her bed. "I should have explained it to him better. This always happens with Giles and me. We're not great at the talking part of things. And I tried, and I kept messing it up."

            "And you wondered why I got you out of there?"

            "You could have just said… well, okay. Thanks." Flashing him a half-smile, she patted the mattress beside her. "Sit with me?"

            To her great surprise, he did. The mattress folded a little under their combined weights, turning what had been a distance of several inches between them into his thigh flush against hers. Surprise changed to shock when he smirked at her rather than pull away. "Nice bed," he said, bouncing a little. "Nice pig, too."

            "He's an old friend." Buffy fell back, sprawling sideways across the mattress. She tucked Mr. Gordo against her chest for a brief hug then tossed him away. "He used to be comforting."

            "Guess you've outgrown him," Spike said, lying on his side. He propped his head up on his hand. "Happens to the best of us."

            She tipped her head all the way back, studying the window upside-down. Sunlight beat at the white curtain; it glowed as if bursting with liquid, like white fruit, like colorless lava steam. Spike didn't seem to notice but Buffy saw how it illuminated the planes of his face and grew nervous, a tickling anxiety in her stomach that she couldn't ignore.

"I've outgrown a lot of things," she told him, and tugged him over her body to the other, darker side of the bed. "More things than are left to grow into, I think."

            "Not me." He propped himself over her on his elbows, his eyes pounding into hers with their intensity. "It's a big world, Slayer, full of more things than you can imagine. Me, I've got loads of growing to do yet. Don't know why anyone would want to stop."

            "Good thing you're immortal. You sound like you want to eat up the whole world."

            "Not the whole world." His gaze fell to her collar, to the line of skin pale against the red neckline of her shirt. The tip of his tongue touched his upper lip, a delicate lick placed on the spot Buffy had always loved to suck, before. Not the whole world.

             "Why did you bring me up here?" Her fingers moved to his hair as if by their own volition. It wasn't that she didn't want to touch him but the need for him she carried triggered within her a recklessness- a trait she'd learned to fear. Go slowly. Don't freak him out. Tangling his curls through her fingers, she urged him closer, and closer still, until she could see herself reflected in the sheen of his eyes. "Why?" she asked again.

            "You needed a change of scenery." He dipped his head down to brush his lips over the crown of her forehead, inhaling in scent of her hair. "A diversion. Won't do to have you go up against Set all tense and distracted."

            Stroking over his head, she laced her fingers behind his neck. "So, this is, what? A public service?"

"Hardly," he said, snorting.

She laughed at the distinctive sound, then shivered as his hand stroked over her hair and down further to her shoulder. Her collarbone seemed to fascinate him; with ardent fingers he explored but wasn't satisfied. Bending low, he tasted her at the juncture of her neck. "Mmmh," he rumbled. "Buffy taste."

Maybe I should stop him. Maybe this is a bad time to be fooling around with my… whatever he is, with blind Giles downstairs alone near a weirdo god. Maybe I should be training or… or researching, or…but oh god, this feels amazing.  She tucked her arms around him, binding him against her with all her strength, needing to feel fully the weight of his body against hers. He's here. He's real. He's not locked away in the crypt and he's not all crazy and he doesn't hate me, he's just… here. Real. Mine.

"What do you want, Slayer?" He licked her chin delicately with the tip of his tongue, a quick, cat-like lap. "Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want?" Everything. Memories flashed through her mind, snapshots of scenes they'd acted out again and again. Violent, hard hands and harsh words… she could hear herself, hear the words she'd told him so many times before. Evil, soulless thing. Not a man. Nothing. She burned inside at the memory of his eyes, the kicked-puppy look he'd given her each time she'd raised his hopes only to slam him down again. And her own hurts, her own mistrusts, all of it flooded back, a kaleidoscope of images and remarks, all nasty and titillating and shaming. I always wondered what it would be like to fuck a Slayer. That's what he was going to say to me before I shut him up. But this… this is different. A new start. A new life.

"I want to be kind to you." She grasped his face between her palms and kissed him with all the tenderness in her heart. "I want us to be kind to each other."

He raised an eyebrow. "That simple, is it."

            "That simple. We'll make it be that simple." She kissed him again then pulled back a little, noticing that he'd stiffened. "Okay?"

            "Slayer…" He sighed. "How can I tell you no? How can I?"

            "That's not a question, is it." Resting against the mattress, she watched emotion after emotion roll over his face. "Spike… don't think so much."

            "Funny, you telling me that." He kept his face black but couldn't conceal his turmoil, not from Buffy, who had seen him wear a hundred different expressions, a thousand different feelings. To Buffy, he was laid bare, naked and exposed, and as she took in his apprehension and confusion, she knew, knew, that this was it for them. The end of all the mistrust. Simplicity. That was what he had wanted. She'd found it, the thing that would make him forgive her. So different from who he was but then, so am I.

"It's all changed," he said, reading her easily as ever. "All different, this time around."

            "That's not a bad thing, you know. Before… lots of bad."

            "No. It's not. But…. but."

            "Don't give me but face." Reaching up a hand, she smoothed the line that formed between his eyes. "Don't. Just don't. Just be with me."

            Softening, he caressed her cheek. "That simple?"

            "Like I said. We'll make it be." 

            *****

            He was tender with her. What surprised her about that was her utter lack of surprise. This is the way it always could have been if I'd let it be. This is love. She skimmed her hands up his chest, drawing his shirt off, licking the skin as she bared it. Even his taste was changed, or maybe it was only that she'd never truly allowed herself to take him in before. Let's hear it for changes, she thought, and licked his chest again.

            When her mouth found his nipple, Spike shivered and drew upwards, catching her lips in a kiss that seemed endless. Her shirt melted off her shoulders as he unbuttoned it; she pressed her thigh against the bulge that pulsed inside his jeans and wondered at his patience.

            His hands lingered on her hips, thumbs hooked inside her slacks. "You're beautiful, you know," he told her, his open mouth moist on hers. "You're all I ever thought of, the whole year in that crypt."

            "Shh." She closed her eyes. "Don't talk. I don't want to think about that. I don't want…" I don't want to think. Just let me be here without words or worries, without hurt, even for only an hour, for only a minute. "Just love me," she whispered, shucking her pants and slipping closer.  The bone of her hip touched his and she met his gaze, searching him for herself. Love me.

            "Easiest thing ever," he said, and brought his mouth to cover hers once more.

            *****

            There was no pressure of  time, nothing compelling them to rush. She thought of nothing, only savored. Reality became his skin against hers, slick and shimmering in the half-light, and his gasps, panting in rhythm with her own. She recognized his weight as it pushed into her and moved her to bliss with the purity of his focus. The knowledge that he knew nothing beyond her in that moment kindled an aching in her chest. Holding him closer still, she poured into her kisses and the tender touches of her hands all the passion he sparked within her.

            And when he filled her with a hoarse groan, she whispered his name and cried as she came.

            *****

            "Buffy? You think we should check on Rupert and his godliness down there?"

            She felt the question rumble through his chest beneath her cheek and tipped her chin against his breastbone. "Probably," she said, making no move to rise. Snuggling deeper into his chest, she pulled the sheet up and tucked it around their bodies. "Yep, definitely probably."

            "Don't sound so anxious, pet." He wound a lock of her hair around his fingers and held it up, studying the contrast of gold on white. "How're you holding up?"

            "Better now. This was… I needed this. Something good." Stroking the ridge of his collarbone, she sighed. "But now… it's gonna be hard. All of it. I… wait, do you smell that?" She picked her head up, sniffing, then leapt to her feet, knocking the blankets aside. "Something's burning."

            "Burning? Yeah, there's something… smoke." He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "You think your Watcher decided to cook himself up a spot of breakfast?"

            "I don't know," Buffy said, jamming her arms into her sweater and reaching for her pants. "Stupid, so stupid, we just left him down there with that… that god, all alone, all… god, all blind."

            "Don't get all freaked out  just yet. You don't know what it is- Horus could've been making… I dunno, toast or what-not."

            "Right. 'Cause gods do that all the time." Flinging open the door, she rushed to the stairs, not waiting for Spike but he was at her heels in a second, the bed sheet wrapped around his waist. "You feel that?" she asked him, touching the wall at the top of the steps. "It's hot."

He placed his palm flat beside hers. "Yeah? So?"

            "Guess you never had fire safety day at your grade school. That means badness, generally.  But I don't hear anything." She peered down the steps then shrugged and went down. Something is very weird here. "Giles?"

            "I'm in here, Buffy," he called, and she leaped over the last few steps to find him in the living room. "Is something the matter?"

            "Giles…" Buffy breathed, gripping the doorway with two hands. "Oh god."

            He sat up straight on the couch, a large book in his lap, Buffy noticed, but didn't register it as she took in with horror the fire that covered him like a burning aura. "Giles, you… are you…"

            "Reading? I thought I might try to feel the letters. The print in this tome was engraved with fire, leaving deep impressions." He held up the volume. "There could be something in here to lend clues to our…"

            "Giles!" Breaking out of her shock, she went to him. This is magick. It has to be. "You don't… doesn't that… hurt?"

            His forehead knit in confusion. "Hurt? No, I told you before, my eyes…"

              "The fire that is all over you? Ring any bells?" Grabbing the blanket from beside him, she tossed it over his head, patting down the flames despite his muffled protests. "Set's played a little prank."

            "Yes, it would seem he has," Horus said from the back of the room.

Buffy jumped back. "You might've said something to him. Or, you know, called me downstairs."

"I was on fire?" Giles said, touching his hair tentatively. "There was no sensation, no smell."

Spike crouched beside him. "There was upstairs, mate. Smelled like Buffy's cooking."

"Another component of the spell," Horus explained. "Set attempts to unnerve you all."

"I must say, he's succeeded," Giles said and stood. "I feel… dirty."

"Yeah? Well I feel fighty. Um, violent. Um…" She met Spike's amused glance and rolled her eyes. "I'm ready to go get this guy."

"It is not the proper time tonight…"

"You know what? I'm done waiting. We need to do this. . . so, what? We've gotta get a spell to suppress Set for… how long?" How long will it take for Willow to die?

Clearing his throat, Giles said, "Not long. A minute, maybe two. She's been… incarcerated within his magicks for far too long."

Buffy tossed her hair back with both hands, taking a deep breath. "So then, where do we go to get this spell? You've got, like, a zillion books upstairs, Giles. Any of them helpful?"

            "Perhaps." He felt for the arm of the couch and levered himself to his feet. "If Spike would assist me, I could…"

            "Right, we'll get to that then." Spike said, taking a step nearer the Watcher. For a moment, Buffy thought Spike meant for Giles to take hold of his arm and she nearly intervened until Spike sent her a nod. He knows not to treat Giles like… like he's less. "

            "First… a shower." Giles pinched the front of his shirt between his fingers. "As I am, Set could be defeated by scent alone."

            "Watcher-sweat. Weapon of choice of Slayers everywhere," Buffy said, then winced. "Sorry. That was bad."

            "Yes it was," Horus said, "As is this impetuousness of yours. Foolish child. I'd expected better from a hero of your lineage."

            "She does better than you could ever know," Giles said, his voice low.

            Horus shrugged his enormous shoulders. "Well for a mortal, perhaps, but for a hero?"

            "She's not an archetype, you bloody…" Tensing his jaw, Giles took a second, making Buffy recall his earlier words. Don't piss off the god. "She's not an archetype. She's a girl. And she's magnificent."

            Tears stung the backs of Buffy's eyes. He doesn't hate me. "Let's get to work," she said in a hoarse voice. Brushing Giles' fingers with her own, she said, "Go have your shower. Spike and I will be here. Afterwards, he'll give you whatever help you need."

            Giles hesitated. "Do be mindful to be… careful. With…" He tilted his head towards Horus.

            "I getcha," she said, taking in the god's hulking presence as he studied her mother's picture where it hung on the far wall. "I won't turn my back on him."

*****

            "Horus has another spell he wants me to help him out with," Buffy said, settling onto the step beside Spike after a glare towards Horus, who was camped out on the living room floor, 'resting his eyes', or so he said. "Sounds kinda weird. Something about a transfer of energies… to make me stronger, more effective against Set."

            "You're doing it?"

            "Yeah." She shrugged. "I know, not magic-girl here, but I better take all the strength I can get. This other spell… will it be hard to find?"

            "Not too," Spike said, moving his legs to the side to make room for hers. "Sounds straightforward enough."

            "Good." She leaned slightly into him, resting her arms against the stair above. "I'm glad something is." With a nudge, she added, "Something besides you."

            "Me?"

            "Well, now, anyways. Now that you're over your post-soul angsties."

            He scowled. "Right. Because all this, it's that trivial."

            "No, not trivial. You've got a good reason to be freaking. Just… glad you're over it. That's all." Scooting closer, she said, "I like happy Spike better."  

He slunk down a step, moving away from her touch. "Think you've got it all worked out, eh? Think you know the way I feel, you having played Angel's confidant for a handful of years. Well, pet, you couldn't be more wrong. This tape that's running through my head on a 'repeat-till-catatonic' reel? Not a single picture there you've seen before."

            "Oh, god, Spike. Listen to yourself." Foolish as it felt to argue the point, she glared at him. "I've been around. I've seen stuff. And Angel did tell me about his vamp life."

"I'll bet Angel didn't tell you 'bout the children."

            Slamming shut her eyes, she inhaled sharply. "Don't."

            "Wussing out? I thought you wanted to know what drove me into that Sanctuary instead of back to your oh-so-welcoming arms."

            "Fine," she said, but she did not open her eyes.

            "You think they would have screamed, those kids. And well, they did. At first. Screamed for their mummies and daddies, screamed for their teachers, their friends… even their pets, for all the good that would do them. As if Fluffy the Power Kitten would run in and save the day. They screamed a lot- at first. But only at first. After a day or two with Dru and I, they quieted. And I mean, quiet. Not a whimper, not a moan. Not a tear. Grown men will cry for days, weeks even, you keep them alive that long. Women are harder eggs to crack but when they crack, they crumble away to dust. That's what made kids so special, made them such treats. Special occasion food only, of course- nothing like a few missing babies to bring a town out in force for an old-fashioned demon hunt- but then, Dru declared every other day a holiday."

            "That's enough," she whispered. Her fingernails bit into the skin of her palm.

            "That's what they said, too. The adults. 'No more!' 'Stop!' But not the children. Silent as ghosts, they were, and still. Living dolls. Didn't even blink, after enough days at Drusilla's breast. Didn't even---"

Buffy lurched forward, grabbing him by the forearms. "I said, enough!" 

            He cocked his head, his eyes gleaming but unreadable. "Was I right, pet?"

            "What? Right?"

            "About Angel. He didn't tell you all this."

            "No." Letting him go, she sank back. "He wouldn't have. Never."

            "Well, then. There you have it. Spike's Evil Deeds, 101." His lips tightened as he watched her wince. "Feel closer now, pet? That enough bonding for you? Feel like you know me?"

            "That wasn't you." She leaned forward and took his hands. "It wasn't you, Spike. I know that. I believe that. And the sooner you do too, the sooner you'll feel like…"

            "Like myself again?" Smiling bitterly, he shook his head. "I don't think so. Whoever 'myself' is not, it's someone new. Not William. Not Spike the Vampire. Whoever I am now, I…" He dropped his eyes from her intense gaze. "I don't know."

            She squeezed his fingers, not knowing what to say. In the quiet of the moment, they could hear only the household sounds: the thrum of the shower running upstairs, the buzz of the refrigerator, the relentless bark of the neighbor's dog. In the living room, Horus snored, his beak clicking on every exhale.

Together they studied their entangled hands. Whatever else is true, at least we know this, Buffy thought, stroking a thumb over his knuckle. We're tangled together because we want to be. Because we need to be. And the rest… the rest is silence. Except…

Bending low, she touched her cheek to the back of his hand. It felt cool against her flushed skin and when he didn't move away, she kissed his fingers before straightening. "I need to tell you something. And I need for you to listen because it's not the kind of thing I can repeat."

Without waiting for his response, she pressed on. "I don't know who I was when I said that stuff to you. All the stuff, last year. And how I treated you… I don't know who I was. Not the person I want to be; not the person I was before I died or the person I am now, that's for sure. Because you didn't deserve it. I mean, you did, sort of, but not… not like that.

            You were a person, a long, long time ago, and then something bad happened. It wasn't your fault. You were turned into a victim, just like all those people I try to save every night on patrol. A vamp killed you, murdered you. And that's sad, really sad. People must have grieved for you. You must've had a funeral, with flowers, and crying family and friends and the whole works, because you were a human being and that's what you deserved.

            But then you got a demon inside you, you became a demon, and you did terrible things. That was what I saw, even with all the kindnesses you gave me… the demon was who I needed to see because… because how could I believe you? How could I let myself? And I'm not saying I was totally in the wrong, either. You weren't good. But there was something in you, something larger that made you fight back against the demon inside long enough to kill it. Long enough to get your soul back." She took in a sharp, gasping breath. "And that is… that's amazing."

            Clearing his throat with a rumble that told her he was far from unaffected by her words, he said, "You know what it was, pet. What it was, so large inside me."

            "Love." She bobbed her head, feeling more that a little stupid. But I have to finish this. He has to know. "I get it. Kinda hard not to, now. But back then, I didn't want to believe you. I didn't want the… the responsibility. Because if I believed you loved me, really loved me, then I couldn't see you as a thing. I would have had to… to behave better, to not do what I did to you, and god, Spike, I needed to do it. I needed to beat bloody something evil because I couldn't do it to myself. I needed a way out."

Swallowing hard, she continued. "You felt love, and you used it to make a miracle happen. I… I  felt it, I did, and I used it to keep myself going. Selfish, huh? I knew you'd never leave. I knew you'd always forgive me. So I used you. I even used the way you made me feel- love, maybe, or something close to it… I used that to punish myself because, you know, if I felt for a soulless demon, didn't that just prove me right, that I was wrong and bad and dirty?"

            "No. It didn't prove anything so bad as that about you. Slayer. You're not the one at fault."

            "Shut up and let me get through this, okay?" Letting him go, she pushed her hair back, then took his hands again, avoiding his eyes. She turned them over and traced the lines of his palms. "Like I was saying, it was wrong. Doing that to you… it leaves off the whole part where you used to be a man with people who loved you, that you were victimized, murdered. It wasn't fair, what happened to you, and I made it worse.

            Flipping his hands over, he seized her wrists, his face intense. "You made it bearable."

            "Anya… she used to change her hair all the time, remember? One week it'd be straight, the next, curly, and the color…. I used to laugh at her about it. Not to her face. But still. I'd laugh because it was yet another weird thing from freaky-weird Anya, like bunny phobia and her money fetish. I never understood her, and I never knew why. Then it hit me, after her lack-of-wedding… she couldn't see herself. And that's all she wanted to do. She used everything in her life like a big mirror - Xander, the shop, even the vengeance stuff- and it was like, she thought if she could just look hard enough, she'd see herself there, find herself."

Shifting, she finally met his gaze. "That's what I was doing with you last year, Spike. I didn't love you, not then. Not really. But something… something in you let me see little flashes of the Buffy-Who-Was. That's the love you gave me. That's what your love did. You gave me a mirror to myself and I followed it." Giving him a tiny smile, she said, "I followed it home. And here I am."

             "Buffy…" He broke off and she watched as his face moved through a dozen different expressions. He's like a human kaleidoscope. Finally settling on a puzzled frown, he said, "I don't know what to say to that. Don't know if there's anything I can say."

            "Wow. Rendering the Big Bad silent. Must be one of the lesser-known Slayer powers."

            He stared at her with glassy eyes. "You made me love you. That's a power."

            "That's a gift," she corrected, turning her face up towards his. "My gift. I've got the whole First Slayer mojo-talk to prove it."

            "Good on you." Using both hands, he tucked her hair behind her ears and lingered there, stroking the softness with the backs of his fingers. "Don't know what my gift is and I don't have a First to go to ask for it. Reckon you'll have to do."

            "I can tell you." She covered his hands with hers and drew them down. Pressing them against her heart, she smiled. "Feel."

            "Your heartbeat?"

            "My life. That's your gift. You gave it back to me, twice. The first time, I didn't thank you very well. And the second… that's right now." Licking her lips, she squeezed his hands. "I'll do better this time."

            "So will I," he said, and bent his head to hers. Her breath was moist on his mouth. Savoring the scent of her, the feel of the air warm from her body, he lingered there, a whisper from a kiss.

            Above their heads, they heard Giles turn off the shower. "Time to go," Spike said against her mouth. You ready for this?"

            "Never." Never ready to bury my friends. "But, yeah. More than I was before. More than I'd be without you. And at least it's better this time. For Willow, I mean. Better than where she was. But…"

            "But?"

            "But hard, too. Because…"

            "Hard not knowing how much of what happened last year to lay on Willow's head and how much to blame on Set."

            When you say it like that… "Hard not to know. And also, hard knowing we'll never know."

            "Good part of that equation, Buffy, is that it leaves you free to believe whatever you like. No point in fretting over Willow's maybe-misdeeds if it makes you ache. Might as well blame the god you've already taken vengeance on."

            "It's easy to say that."

            "Yeah, true. Very pat, for a bloke who's got the corner on rumination and self-torment." He touched her hair and whispered, "That said, someday, I reckon it might be true for us both. We've got our share of insanity to deal with but someday…"

            "Someday, we'll be okay." Wrinkling her nose, she stood and tugged him up with her. "That's all you've got? I mean, not to be mean or anything, but you'd think a guy who's been around a few centuries might come up with something a bit more profound."

            He scowled at her. "Profound?"

Smiling, she ran her hands up his arms and locked them behind his neck. "Yeah, profound. With lots of big words and commas. And maybe, maybe it would rhyme."  

            With a groan, he lowered his forehead to rest against hers. "Now I know you're having me on."

            "Or you could, I dunno, sing it. A capella, maybe." She brushed her nose against his and widened her eyes innocently. "Or, ooh! We could bring Angel in and you guys could do rounds!"

            "Buffy," he growled, digging his fingers through her hair. He held her head in both hands, her lips nearly touching his. "You're asking for punishment here, you know that."

            Her eyes sparkled. Opening her mouth, she tasted his lips with the tip of her tongue, grinning when she felt him quiver. "So if I mentioned something about, say, starting a barbershop quartet… punishment might be all cometh then, huh?"

            Eagerness overcame sense and he lunged for her mouth, claiming it with such force, they fell backward onto the steps but did not break apart. Her hands found the edge of his tee-shirt and moved under it, exploring upwards over his chest as if for the first time. And it is, kind of. He's a new person. Not William, not Spike, just…

            From the top of the stairs, Buffy heard Giles cough loudly. And back comes reality. Drawing away from Spike, she said, "We've gotta go. Work time."

            "I know," he replied, but pulled her back anyway and found her mouth with his and kissed her hard. "But you're not alone, Slayer. Hold onto that."

            She stood and smiled down at him. "No," she said, and held out her hands. "I'll just hold onto you instead."

*****

            The dining room chair hurt his back. The rungs bit between the nodges of his spine and try as he might, Giles could not get comfortable. He sat, regardless.

            "Cool!" He heard Buffy say, her voice excited in a way it hadn't been for far too long. "This spell stuff's not too bad."

            I could have told you that. Taught you that. Stiffening, he berated himself for his pettiness. Yes, let's do find the worst time for a fit of self-pity. Stellar job, Rupert. He reacted for his glass by reflex before remembering he had nothing to drink. And that is for the best, old man. As Buffy's shrill laugh poured from the entryway, he winced. Or perhaps not.

            The chair besides his was pulled out, its legs screeching across the floor. "Rupert," Spike greeted him, and Giles felt something smooth and cool press into his hand. "Thirsty, mate?"

            "Spike," Giles said, as if the single word could convey both reluctance and gratitude. He tossed the whisky down in a single gulp and as Buffy laughed again, tipped the rim back, anxious for every drop.

            Spike took the glass. After a long, silent span, he asked, "You listening to them?"

            "Hard to help it." Grudgingly, he added, "Buffy's come so far. I never thought to see the day she'd be grounded enough to cast spells."

            Spike paused. Giles could almost hear him thinking. Then the vampire snorted with disdain. "No thanks to His Birdliness in there."

            "What do you mean? I can hear them. He's teaching her well."

            "Right. But she's miserable."

            "Yes, I could hear that in the peels of laughter. Misery's gone soft over the years, apparently."

             Rocking the chair legs, Spike said, "He's teaching her to kill her best friend but to him, Willow's a means to an ends, that's all. The bugger's got no feelings for you puny human types."

            Giles clenches his fists. "She deserves a little care. If this must be done, it must be done with dignity, respect for who Willow was, and for the sacrifice Buffy is about to perform. She's no bloody means, neither of them are. If I could…" His shoulders slumped.

            "If you could use that big head of yours to remember some of the incantations, Buffy wouldn't need Horus. Too bad there's no one else can speak ancient Sumerian."

            "You know quite well that I can speak Sumerian. And I do remember the incants, and the ritual involved." He rose slowly, waving his hands for balance. "I should offer my experience. If Buffy chooses not to take it… if she doesn't think I'm well enough, or capable any longer of being of use to her…"

            "She'll tell you. Our bird's not one to hold her tongue. And Horus just stepped out for a breather, so she's alone." Spike offered his arms and with a slight glower, Giles accepted. "When this is over, you and I need to have a talk."

            They stumble forward, adjusting to walking in sync. "When this is over, I suspect we'll have many."

            "Giles!" Buffy jumped up from her seat on the floor. He didn't believe she'd been tense until he heard the change in her voice as she went to him, spilling… something, many small things from her lap to clatter on the floor. Runic stones, I'd wager.  "You're up! I thought you were resting again. Are you… I mean, does it hurt?"

            "You've no idea," he told her, managing a wry smile. "I'm told there's Sumerian to be chanted. Would you like a hand?"

            She did not reply. The silence was… fidgety, Giles thought. She thinks I'm useless now. If ever she needed me, that time is over. "I've still got the use of my mouth, you know, as well as my brain."

            "And if something needs reading, I'm mostly just twiddling my thumbs here," Spike added.

            What is she doing? Giles wished he could see her face. Not long ago, he could read her every expression but now it was so easy for her to hide from him, simply by staying quiet. "Buffy?"

            Soft hands covered his, drawing him forward and down to his knees. "See, here?" Buffy placed his fingers in the edge of the circle. "Does the chalk feel crushed enough? 'Cause I mushed and mashed it like Horus said but I wasn't sure I did it right and he couldn't tell me."

            A weight lifted from his chest, easing him. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch up. "It's a little on the grainy side but it should do. Well done, Buffy."

            She squeezed his fingers. "Buffy can mash. Yay Buffy."

            "It might seem a small thing but these magicks call for careful balancing of all the elements."

            "Yeah, you know, Horus was telling me about that."

            "He must be very… helpful. Very knowledgeable."

"Big time. He spent forever telling me how the smallest mistake could throw the whole thing off and how if we weren't really, really careful, all the badness could get even worse. We have to be so, so careful, Giles."

            "I could…" Get out of your way. That's what your telling me, isn't it?

            Continuing as if he hadn't spoken, Buffy said, "That's why I'm so glad you're up. I never thought I'd miss your lectures but gotta say, Horus? Not big on the small words. Not that you ever were but at least you spoke British, not whatever freaky version of English he speaks." Running her hands up to his wrists, she held him firmly. "Plus, I trust you. You're my… you're Giles." She shook him once. "You're Giles."

            "I… I am, yes." Fumbling only a little, he touched her shoulder. I am a foolish man. That you are still capable of surprising me with your better nature, after all this time… "Spike tells me there's Sumerian to be translated."

            "Spike's very… helpful, that way."

There was something in her voice that made him smile. She's still capable of teasing him, so she can't be too bad off.  

            Firm hands landed on his shoulders and tugged him upwards. "Books are this way, Rupert," Spike said, the glare he must have worn obvious in his voice.

            "Have fun, Spikey!" Buffy said brightly.

            "Good god," Giles said, letting Spike led him to the table. "Don't ever call him that within my hearing again."

            "But if you could see the way it makes his ears twitch…" He heard a slapping sound, skin on skin. She's slapping her forehead, kicking herself for her gaffe. "Oh, Giles, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean…"

            He laughed, turning towards her. "I'm sure it's quite a sight," he said, giving her an understanding smile. "Now, back to work, all."