EPISODE THREE
"Golden Silence"

Willow Rosenberg loved being useful. It gave her life purpose and meaning. That Giles had entrusted her to research these Aftertime Creations cranks made her giddy with pride. Plus, computer time was always of the good and ... and holy heck would you look at that!

"Whoo-hoo!" she whooped, bouncing in her seat at the study table. When no one reacted to her outburst she waved a hand in the air and tried again. "Hello, big with the 'whoo-hooing' over here."

"I thought that was just a general enthusiastic sort of 'whoo-hoo'," Anya said. "Because of your research joy. I shouldn't have to differentiate between all your excited noises. That's Tara's job."

Willow ignored the ex-demon and tapped the monitor eagerly. "I just thought you might wanna have a look-see at the Aftertime web page. There's like a Sunnydale thing only..." She trailed off as she began to grasp the enormity of what she was seeing. "...Sorta not."

Giles strolled over, his glasses already in hand waiting to be polished. "Could you be more specific?"

"Umm," Willow vacillated, engrossed by the site's contents. "Well, it's all about the Hellmouth and vampires and stuff, but they're not calling it Sunnydale. It's a 'mythic' world called Eldritch."

Giles hovered at her shoulder, all thought of polishing his glasses forgotten. He put them back in place so that he could read the luminous green writing. "I'm familiar with the word. Derived from the Old English 'aelf-rice' for elf-realm."

"Elf realm?" Tara asked. "Like a land of teeny-weeny magic people?"

"Precisely. Obviously this is where the fairies fit in to the equation."

"I can't understand why I haven't heard about it before," Willow fretted. "'Cause I found like thousands of matches. It's really, really popular. Lord of the Rings popular - in the whole novel-reading nerdy cult following sense, not you know, the totally huge break-all-box-office-records sense." She squinted at the screen. "There's a whole back story and everything. It looks like it's based around the adventures of two Guardians named Falchion and-"

"Annulet," Giles finished for her. He huffed in an 'I should have known' way. "Spike and Buffy."

The redhead stared up at him wide-eyed. "Huh? How'd you get that?"

"During their escapade in Pylea they were players in an ancient prophecy. They were referred to as the Guardians of the Bridge, the Gemel, two halves of a whole unit. A hook and loop, or alternatively, Falchion and Annulet." The Watcher grimaced and straightened. "I was hoping that it was just a one-off," he mumbled. "But it appears that their exploits are legend in a number of different dimensions."

"Like the fairytales here," Anya noted. "You all think they're fake and made up, but every one of those things happened."

"You mean like Snow White and the dwarves and stuff?" Tara was amazed. "They're all real? They actually existed?"

"Oh, absolutely," Anya nodded vigorously. "Of course, a lot of the stories have been cleaned up for the children's market. They're all PG now, without the gratuitous sex and violence." She sighed. "Worse luck."

Willow was still reading. "We're all in here," she said, scrolling through a character archive. "Us Scoobies, I mean. In an otherworldly fairy-type way. You've just got to interpret the names."

"Interpret?" Tara frowned. "They're in a different language?"

"No, they're just weirded up like Spike and Buffy's are. See?" She pivoted the screen around to face her girlfriend. "They've called you Amity."

"As in 'Amityville Horror'?" Anya was genuinely intrigued.

Giles cast an exasperated glance toward the ceiling. "As in peace and good will."

Tara glowed, embarrassed but pleased. "That's really nice."

"It is!" Willow enthused, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "It's perfect for you." A delighted grin lit her face. "I'm Charm."

"You sure are, sweetie. Who else is there?"

"Candor would have to be Anya, wouldn't it? 'Cause, you know, appropriate."

"I believe that's called stating the obvious," Giles drawled. He cocked his head to one side, taking in the list of names. "Leal, I'd wager would be Xander. It's a form of the word loyal. The others are a little more difficult to..."

The Watcher was interrupted as the front door was flung open with considerable force, almost knocking the bell off its hook. It made a pitiful clunking noise and then fell silent.

Spike barged in, his omnipresent duster billowing, the midday sun painting a golden silhouette around his lithe form. He pulled up short and stared at them, one hand still poised on the doorknob, trying hard to appear indifferent to the circle of astonished faces. It didn't work.

"What?" he snapped, cool facade cracking under the pressure. "Still can't fathom Spike in the ultra-violet minus the trusty old security blanket?" He snorted then bowed his head, eyes skittering away to the side, fingers drumming an uneasy rhythm against his thigh. He appeared to be waiting for something.

A second later Buffy trundled in, one arm curved around under her belly. "Holy crap," she groaned, slightly breathless. "Could you stop with the super fantastic vamp speed for two seconds?"

Spike eyed her over his shoulder. "Thought you said you could still keep up."

"I can." She pouted, her voice sounding small and petulant.

"Right." Spike nodded, knowing that he'd proved his point, and swung the door closed behind her.

She'd have to slow down sooner or later, and he'd rather it be sooner. Last night's patrol had proven just how far off her game she was getting. Poddy and Stretch had almost got a look in. If she'd been on her own...

He shivered. It didn't bear thinking about.

Buffy was suddenly in his arms, neither of them having any recollection of having moved. "It's okay," she murmured, stroking his back under the heavy fall of his duster. "I won't scare you like that again. Tandem or group patrols only from now on. I won't make a move without you."

He was amazed that she'd managed to pick up that much from him considering the state of their link, but decided to go with it. He could play Joe Normal with the best of them.

"Yeah, you say that now, but I know what goes on in that head o' yours, Slayer." He peered down his nose at her. "You hate the Little Girl Lost routine as much as I do."

"Uh huh, but this isn't so much Little Girl Lost as Big Fat Mama Who Can't Keep Up."

Spike chuckled. "Big Fat Mama? If I'd let that one slip you'd have my head on a platter."

"Bet your skinny white butt, Poetry Boy. With fava beans and a nice Chianti."

He sighed happily and rested his chin on her hair. "Gotta tell you, sunshine, you sure know how to sweet talk a bloke." He cocked his scarred brow over her head at their audience. "You lot got this fairy business sorted yet?"

"Found a major trail of breadcrumbs," Willow told him. She gestured toward the computer. "Check it out, Falchion."

"Fal...?" Spike blinked at her, lost for words. "Where the bloody hell did ya hear that?" He glared at Giles. "Thought we told you to keep all that Pylean rubbish under your hat. To protect Seth."

"I did," Giles glared right back, unconcerned by the vampire's threats. "It seems these Aftertime people are under no such constraints."

"You finally named Nipper?" Willow squeaked, ignoring the remainder of their conversation. This was big news.

"Yeah we did. He shall no longer remain nameless." Buffy gingerly edged along the bench-like stool to sit next to her friend.

Spike perched on the ladder behind her and began tapping his feet against the riser. She could hear him contemplating whether or not he needed new laces for his boots and rolled her eyes in irritation. Sometimes she wished she could just hit an off-switch. Or a mute switch maybe. Yeah, one of those would be perfect...

"Seth's a great name," Willow was babbling. "Kinda religious... Isn't there an actor called Seth? I'm pretty sure he was in the Austin Powers movies. Xander would know, being all Groovy Secret-Agent-Man-ified." She paused, then brightened. "Ooh, Nicolas Cage in 'City of Angels'!"

Spike's head snapped up just in time to catch the Slayer making shushing motions. "Eh? Whassat Red?"

"Nothing," Buffy said benignly. "Go back to your shoe-gazing, honey."

"Don't spout that nonsense at me. I heard what she said, all conveniently hush-hush." He hitched his feet up a rung and leant forward. "You know I hate that movie," he whispered reproachfully.

"It makes him cry," she confided in aside to Willow, who then gaped at him.

"Really?"

"No." He fidgeted uncomfortably under the witch's shrewd gaze. She could probably tell he was lying. "We'll have to change it now, any rate."

"Why?" Buffy pivoted to face him. "There's no way we're gonna come up with anything that fits better."

"Angel-related names were off limits, remember? Didn't want any nasty associations." He scowled at Buffy's somewhat amused countenance. "Look, the talentless prat plays an angel, dun' he? Not only that, but he's all po-faced 'n mopey and-" He thrust a self-righteous finger at her as something else came to him. "And he wears a poofy coat."

Buffy arched her brows at him, staring pointedly, and he tugged sheepishly at the lapels of his duster.

"'S not poofy. 'S leather. Bloody sexy if you ask me. Part of my charm."

"It also used to belong to a girl."

He blinked. "But it's not poofy," he repeated as if that were the most important point.

"Okay, you're right," Buffy conceded reluctantly. "It's cool. It epitomizes coolness."

"Nice to know someone appreciates my fashion sense."

"Not the whole sense. Just the coat." She pursed her lips, eyeing him critically. "And maybe the hair."

Willow suddenly shot back in her seat, whacking Buffy's arm repeatedly in her excitement. "Hey! Hey!"

Spike rubbed irritably at his own arm. "Watch where you're tizzying there, Will. Got some clout for a wee slip of a thing."

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to... I mean, hey!" She pointed at the monitor, practically vibrating in her enthusiasm. "Look what I found in the Links section."

Buffy scanned the microscopic lettering, past such varied names as 'Postcards From Eldritch', 'Myth-Arc Online' and 'The We-Hate-Gladius Network', then leant in for a better view at the bottom of the computer screen. "Does that say 'AI'?"

Giles scowled. "That's Angel's company, is it not?"

Spike lounged backward, resting his elbows on the step behind him. "Well that's just typical of Peaches, innit?"

Buffy didn't even look at him. "Don't say it."

"Wha-?" Spike spread his hands, confounded.

"Angel is not a fairy."

"We're all fairies..." Spike began defensively then stopped, horrified by what he'd just said, and hurried to clarify. "...I'd wager. According to those wankers."

"Why do you have to insult every single... They're not wankers."

"Yeah, right." The vampire snorted. "And I'm the sodding Pope."

He could feel the disapproval coming off the Slayer in waves, but studiously ignored it. As far as he was concerned, he was entitled to a fit of the sulks about the morning's stunning developments; he was most certainly not brooding. And if she wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that was just fine with him.

Tara spoke up then, trying as always to be the voice of reason. "Angel wouldn't have anything to do with this. Would he? I mean, I only met him that one time but isn't he a good guy?"

"She's right," Willow admitted. "It's not really his style. Or anyone else's we know." She cast an analytical eye back over the screen. "They sure seem to know us though."

"The connection should be investigated nonetheless." Giles' face was almost an expression-free zone. It often got that way when he was thinking particularly hard. "Someone ought to..."

"Run the LA gauntlet?" Buffy wiggled around on her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position; something that was getting increasingly difficult the more she... increased. "I veto on the grounds that it will only lead to much painful cramping and frequent pee stops."

"Happens on patrol bloody often enough," Spike grumbled, sotto voce. "Let alone an hours-long road trip."

Buffy shot him a look of pure venom that he returned with equal animosity, cool blue eyes lit now with shards of yellow. There was a sharp edge to their bickering, an underlying tension that hadn't previously been there.

Anya was openly staring at the couple. "I don't see it," she said after a moment.

"See what?" Buffy wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to get into whatever Anya had on her mind. Spike was being the über-grouch all of a sudden and she couldn't work out what was wrong with him. It was as distracting as hell, and really starting to piss her off.

"The whole Falchion and Annulet thing," the ex-demon explained. "Now, if they'd called you Sunshine and Honey I might have understood. You call each other that all the time."

The scowl on Giles' face deepened and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Golden," he muttered.

"How's that?" Spike narrowed his eyes, having picked up the Watcher's undertone.

"Sunshine and honey," Giles huffed. "Both can be defined as golden. It's the Aurelius link popping up again."

"Aurelius link?" It was Willow's turn in the Scooby frown-a-thon. "I thought their link was from something called a Serpiente."

"Oh, wait," Tara breathed. "I know what Mr. Giles means. 'Aurelius' is Latin for 'golden one'. A-and look." She read the screen of Willow's computer. "The Guardians are the embodiment of the twin suns and will bring about the golden age."

"Bloody hell, you're not wittering on about that again, are you?" Spike groaned.

"It's important!" Giles defended piously.

The vampire rolled his eyes, the reaction earning a censuring backslap from Buffy. Luckily he was far enough out of her target range that it hit him harmlessly below the knee.

"Knock it off," she ordered, then shook her head at her Watcher. "You fall for his line of crap every time. He's chain-yanking you, Giles. He's just as interested in all this as you are."

Spike pouted. "Am not. No one should be that interested in the lives of people who aren't them. It's bloody unnatural is what it is."

"I'll tell you what's unnatural, you contemptuous little prat..."

Giles' outburst was abruptly silenced as the door opened once more. The bell didn't make a sound, not having recovered from Spike's entrance, and Xander paused underneath it, looking up with arched brows.

"You want I should fix that?" he asked. "Unless you like the Zen vibe." He grinned at them. "If a customer walks into a shop and the bell doesn't ring, is the customer really in the shop?"

"Would somebody please knock him out?" Spike implored. "Come on! One good tap. I'll pay cash."

Xander was about to make what he thought was a pretty good comeback when the vampire suddenly recoiled in pain, collapsing away from the ladder with a hand covering the side of his face. His teeth were clenched so tightly that every vein in his neck stood out in gruesome detail, but most frightening of all was the fact that he didn't make a single sound. Usually there was yelling. Loud yelling - lots of it.

Xander stared, never having seen the chip give Spike this much of a jolt. Had something gone wrong?

Spike staggered to a halt against the counter, doubled over and breathing heavily. He lifted his head and glowered at Buffy with the one eye that wasn't half-closed and bloodshot.

"You burst a vessel, you sodding hellcat. I can't see!"

"Cry baby," she said haughtily, folded arms resting on the swell of her stomach. She wasn't the least bit sympathetic.

Spike gawked at her, floundering for an appropriate reaction. A crimson-stained tear escaped from corner of his damaged right eye, spilling out over the arch of his cheekbone and into the hollow beneath. Some bruising was becoming visible too, ugly purple stains shading the socket.

"I'm in serious pain here," he informed her. "You're damned lucky I'm not inclined to return the favor."

"Like you could."

"Oh, I could." Spike's tone was icy cold now. He wiped at the bloodied tearstain with the back of his hand, peering at the resultant smudge with disgust, then rolled his shoulders, visibly pulling himself together. "I won't. But it's times like this that remind me why I wanted to kill you so much back in the day."

The statement was followed by complete and utter silence.

Buffy blanched. "God, I can't believe you just said that."

"I didn't mean that I wanted to..."

"Get out." The Slayer's tone was flat.

"Buff..."

"I said 'get out'," her face was stony with determination. "Leave. I don't wanna see you right now."

Spike cast a beseeching look at the Scoobies, but none of them made any attempt to take his side. His chin came up defensively. "Oh, so it's like that is it? Right then, you can sod off, the whole bloody lot of you."

He turned abruptly on his heel and stalked out, not sparing any of them a second glance.

Xander watched the vampire storm by, making sure to stay well out of fang range - chip or no, Spike could be damned scary - and then turned back to the others.

"What the hell just happened?"

A/N: A new episode as promised - go me! It's a little shorter than I would have liked, but it just seemed such a great cliff-hangery place to leave it. I'm upping the angst factor, folks. Hang onto your fangs, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!
- Dee.