Per Aspera Ad Astra

***

"It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace -- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what path others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!"
--Patrick Henry's call to arms against the British on March 23, 1775, spreading the American Revolution throughout Virginia.

:) I was feeling particularly patriotic, especially since I'm a Virginian myself (well, not really ... I'm actually from San Diego, but I've lived in Virginia for ten years now. So technically I'm a Californian, but you know what I mean.)

***

Chapter Septem

***

Trailing idly through the halls, Dawn took her sweet time to complete the assigned task. She walked a zig zag path, skipping every few steps. The curtains to the open-air windows were heavy and beautifully embroidered with rubies and emeralds, not to mention pulled tightly closed. The walls were covered in rich frescoes of the gods as well as other well-known myths. The torches burned brightly and cast long shadows. Artfully crafted oak furniture filled every corner.

Portia wandered silently next to Dawn, swinging thin, bronzed arms. She played distractedly with a raven lock before biting at her short nails. Casting sporadic looks over at the other teen, she kept her pace calmer, taking small even steps.

"What do you do here for fun?" Dawn asked, taking a small hop.

Portia glanced over before settling her eyes back on the tile-patterned floor. "Slayer stuff, horseback riding, reading. Livia is teaching me how to weave." She wrinkled her nose in distaste, accentuating the sprinkle of light brown freckles across her cheeks contrasting sharply with the deep sapphire of her eyes. Swinging her arms behind her, she clasped her hands together.

Dawn furrowed her brow. "Anything else? That's it?" Her chestnut eyes widened slightly.

"Well, women aren't permitted into the Flavian Amphitheater except for the Vestal Virgins. We are allowed to watch the comedic performances and then there are the festivals. I like Saturnalia best." She grinned at the thought. "I mean, Slayer stuff keeps us occupied most of the time."

Dawn nodded, a little disappointed at the lack of activities. "Do you have school?"

"Girls don't have schooling past the age of fourteen." Portia flipped a long lock behind her shoulder.

"I'd kill for that," Dawn muttered under her breath. They both finally reached their destination. "You think we should knock?"

Portia fiddled with the sash to her tunica before whispering mischievously, "What if they're -doing- things?" She squinted her eyes at the innuendo.

"Things ... Oh! Things!" She pursed her lips in thought. "What about ... we just listen, then?"

The two pressed their ears as close to the heavy curtain as possible without falling in themselves. When none of the obvious sounds were heard, they pulled back carefully. Casting looks at each other curiously, Dawn peeked in slightly. Well, she definitely wasn't expecting that.

Buffy and Spike both were laying side by side, entwined tightly, kissing deeply. Portia's head popped through the curtain beneath hers. They exchanged glances. Looking back up, Buffy and Spike never even noticed them.

Drawing the curtain back, Portia arched a dark eyebrow. "Are you sure they're not in love?"

"Oh, I know Spike loves her. We're just not exactly sure about Buffy, but she's basically the queen of denial," Dawn shrugged it off.

"You want to be the one to interrupt them?" Portia leaned her back against the wall, drawing her tunica to the front of her legs.

"How about we just don't?" Dawn turned and retraced her steps through the fire-lit corridor.

Shrugging, Portia hurried after her. "What was that about?" she asked, long legs enabling her to catch up to Dawn quickly.

"I'm not going to interrupt them. They're not even fighting. So, let them make out for a while. Then we can come back and get them."

***

Buffy played lightly with Spike's hair. Without the gel he normally used, it was beginning to curl softly. "Spike?"

"Hmm?" Spike's fingers trailed across the small of her back, pushing the linen of the blanket aside for better access.

"Tell me about the ring?" she smiled curiously.

Sighing under his breath, Spike shifted into a sitting position, pulling Buffy onto his lap. "Story time, is it?"

"Wait," Buffy interrupted. She turned in his lap to place one leg on either side of his waist. "Before we say anything else, let's start with the basics, okay?"

Spike grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist. Buffy was trying to get to know him. "What do you want to know, love?"

"Whole name. You know mine, I should know yours." She arched an eybrow at him.

"William James Sumner." He cocked his head to the side, never breaking eye contact.

"Age?" Buffy bit the corner of her bottom lip. "I mean, the age you were when you were turned." She waved a hand in emphasis.

"You're not surprised at my last name, pet?"

Buffy grinned. "Weird shit happens. Now, age?"

"Twenty-six," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"Any siblings?"

"One. Diana was fourteen. I loved that little girl more than anything. She was my only fan." Spike's ice blue eyes swirled with wild emotion at the memory of his 'first love.'

"Fan?" Buffy asked teasingly.

If Spike could have blushed, he'd be as red as Willow's hair for letting that slip. "Yeah," he answered hesitatingly. "Um, it's where I got my nickname."

"Billy?" Buffy supplied laughingly, wrapping her arms lightly around his neck, hooking her legs loosely around his waist.

Spike snorted. "Nobody called me Billy. Ever. Di called me Liam. My mum called me Will." He rubbed her back gently. "The name William the Bloody."

Buffy tilted her head, confused. "I thought you got that name after you were turned."

"No. It's, um, short for William the Bloody Awful Poet." He ducked his head, embarrassed at what he was revealing.

"You were a poet?!" Buffy asked, grinning like a madman.

"Yeah, but I wasn't any good, always making things rhyme." Spike shrugged, avoiding her eyes.

"Recite one for me?" Buffy bit her bottom lip, trying to hold in a smile.

Spike's head shot up. "It's been a while since I've written any ..."

"Then you'll read me one when we get back," she insisted, green eyes flashing resolutely.

"Sure, love."

"What were your parents' names?" Buffy resumed questioning.

"Matthew and Mary Anne."

"Now, back to my original question," Buffy said mock seriously, clutching at well-muscled shoulders. "Tell me about the ring."

"This?" Spike asked, holding her left hand before placing a quick kiss on her knuckles. Buffy smiled, displaying dimples, and nodded. "When I was eighteen, my mother gave it to me. I was spending the summer with my grandparents in Devon. She told me that it was a family heirloom, told me to use it as an engagement ring of sorts." He let his eyes wander before correcting himself. "Well, not really an engagement ring. She said to give it to the lady that would steal my heart. She was always a romantic, never lost hope that I would marry." He left it at that.

Buffy smiled once more. He didn't exactly say it, but she knew. "Why didn't you give it to Dru?"

"I wanted to give it to her after I'd claimed her," he answered quietly.

"But didn't you ..."

"She wouldn't accept."

"Oh."

Spike shrugged. "Mum would have wanted you to have it anyway."

Buffy searched his face, gliding slowly over his eyes, impossibly high cheekbones, and finally settled on his full lower lip.

"What?" Spike asked, pulling his face back slightly.

"Nothing. I'm just going to kiss you." Without waiting for a response, she claimed his lips with hers, sliding forward until her upper body was pressed flush against his.

***

"Where are they?" Xander asked, frowning. He slumped into the stool he was currently occupying.

"Having sex," Anya singsonged.

"They're asleep," Dawn answered flippantly from the doorway. "I didn't want to wake them up. They had a late patrol."

Xander quietly seethed, turning to the others, hoping that one of them would back him up.

"I think it's cute," Tara said bashfully.

"They were all snuggly," Willow added in.

"Well then," Tiberius interjected, pushing a pair of wire spectacles higher up on the bridge of his nose, "perhaps we better continue without them." Brushing the graying black hair out of his eyes, "Livia, Lucius, shall we?"

***

Buffy settled back onto the feather-down mattress, pulling the linen blanket up. Fingering it lightly, she made out the spectrum colors of the thread, settling on the gold.

Spike had molded himself to her back, and Buffy reached back to cup his cheek, stroking gently.

He leaned forward to kiss her shoulder before pulling her back towards himself.

The two fell into an undisturbed sleep.

***

Dawn cautiously pulled the curtain to the room back, leaving enough room for her to throw it shut just in case.

She smiled, relaxing her stance. They were sleeping.

Padding quietly over to the bed, she scanned the space quickly for the easiest entrance. Quickly, she made her move, flopping down on the mattress right next to the them. The two instantly sat up, both immediately reaching for a weapon.

"Hey! It's me," Dawn informed them swiftly, grabbing at Buffy's arm.

They stopped, arms outreached, and looked blankly at her. Suddenly, Spike arched an eyebrow, and Buffy flopped back down onto her back.

"Hey Dawnie," Buffy offered sleepily.

"Nibblet," Spike greeted right before Buffy got a hold of the back of his shirt and pulled him down next to her.

"You guys are so cute." Dawn grinned at the motion and settled herself down on Buffy's other side. "What have you two been up to?" she asked conspiratorially.

Buffy swatted her shoulder before making herself comfortable in the sheets. "Sleeping."

Dawn raised her eyebrows. "Any ... good dreams ...?" She smirked mischievously.

"You certainly are nosy," Spike accused, settling himself against Buffy's side.

"I'm a kid, that's my job," she responded without missing a beat. "Anyway, you guys have to get up."

"Why is that?" Buffy asked. She turned on her side so she would be facing Dawn.

"Well, Xander is about the freak, and Tiberius really wants to watch you guys fight. He really is a carbon copy of Giles." Dawn rolled her eyes. "When are you going to teach me how to fight?"

"Hmm ..." Buffy thought, pursing her lips, "How about never?"

"Aww," Dawn groaned, looking to Spike for support. When she found none, "This majorly sucks." She sat back up, pulling the covers down. "Anyway, we really do have to go."

"Fine, fine," Buffy relented, pushing herself out of bed. Standing, she smoothed her shirt down.

"You slept with your shoes on?" Dawn asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

"So did Spike," Buffy said defensively, indicated his combat boots.

"You slept with your shoes on together?" she asked again with the same amount of disgust. "I'm surprised you didn't kick the heck out of each other."

"Well, there really wasn't much moving," Spike said, sitting up himself. Both girls turned towards him before breaking into giggles. "What?" he asked defensively.

"You have bedhead," Dawn said, reaching her hands up to smooth the wayward hair back into place.

"Bloody hell," he muttered mostly to himself. "This is the problem with not having a reflection."

"It looks cute," Dawn reassured him.

"I'm not cute," Spike protested, glaring. He stood up, hands desperately trying to keep the hair down.

Buffy smiled, removing his hands from his head. She pushed a couple strands off his forehead. "There. You look fine." Standing back to have a better look at her handiwork, she opened the trunk to pull out his duster. "Here."

"I really need to smoke a fag," he muttered to himself before Buffy smacked his arm.

"No smoking. This room is officially a no smoking area." She put her hands on her hips and mock glared. "Just because those things can't kill you doesn't mean they can't kill me."

"Fine," he relented, grimacing.

"Whipped," Dawn grinned next to him.

"Yeah, yeah," Spike wrote it off before shoving his arms into the familiar sleeves of his duster. "Are we up?" he asked.

"Yep," Dawn agreed. "You guys slept completely through Livia and Lucius' fight."

"How was it?" Buffy asked, falling into step with Spike and Dawn, making certain to shut the curtain behind her.

"She totally kicked his ass," Dawn gushed.

"Language!" Buffy reprimanded.

"Welcome to the Nineties," Dawn rolled her eyes. "Or ... um, what year is it again?"

"I'm thinking a couple decades before the birth of Christ." Spike smirked before throwing an arm around Dawn's shoulder. "Now, this is a girl after my own heart," he finished as he ruffled her hair.

Buffy frowned and muttered something that sounded like, 'a bad influence.' Neither responded.

Buffy trailed her eyes along the walls, taking in the rich maroons, blues, and golds of the frescoes. Shifting them to the floor, she saw tiles of mosaics, smiling when she saw some tiles formed into the shape of a duck. Small bronzen oil lamps sat on tables made of nicely carved wood. Biting her lip, she managed to dig an elastic hair tie out of her pocket, pulling her hair back.

***

I'm very sorry you guys! I have one flaw--I'm never satisfied with my work. I honestly wanted to add more to this chapter, but I figure you would become more impatient. It's still a little shorter than my normal chapters-only five pages. I have been falling behind on my homework because of those chapters I wrote earlier this month. I've been neglecting my responsibilities. Hopefully you guys will understand.

Please review. They make me write more quickly. And sorry again about the delay!!

Evangeline