Chapter 19

Spike had too many voices in his head telling him too many different things at the same time. More times than he could count, he'd been at a crossroads with the petite blonde in front of him that he really wasn't sure which way the scene would play out.

Her words had caught him by surprise. . . again. He'd challenged her to express her feelings for him, but in his heart of hearts, he hadn't actually expected her to be honest.

"Spike?"

He realized that he had been alternately staring at the top of her head and at her eyebrow or her earlobe. . . anything to prevent having to view her vulnerability. If he saw that, he would have to truly admit she meant what she'd just said, and he'd be lost. . . completely lost in her. So far, he'd been very good at rationalizing away why he shouldn't get more involved with Buffy, but now. . .

Her eyes flitted over his features, trying to catch a glimpse of his feelings.

He closed his eyes to escape, and even in the darkness of his own space, he could almost feel the waves of disappointment and hurt rolling off of her.

His face was stoic, but she was right; his heart was going fast as a rabbit's. Who was he kidding? He never had been good at hiding his emotions.

A growl sprang out of the back of his throat, and he made a decision.

His right hand was pinned under hers, but his left was free, and he found her waist, pushing her backward into the dry cavern wall. The wall held firm but was dry and rough against the skin on his fingers as his hand slid to the small of her back.

He pulled her against him. . . hip against hip and let himself truly look at her.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, eyes on her eyes, lips hovering over her lips.

She groaned then as if she had been holding her breath and brought her free hand to the concave of his cheek. "And you're so warm."

He laughed then, a broad smile cracking open the door to his heart that he'd so carefully closed three years ago when she'd left him in Los Angeles.

Smiling at his joy, she teased, "I know I keep saying that, but you are."

Purposefully blowing warm air over her lips, he said, "How's that?"

She shivered in his arms. "Good."

"Got goose bumps from the heat?"

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you still talking?"

His eyes glinted at her challenge, and he bent to one side, jamming the end of the torch into the soft ground. Turning his attention back to the woman in his arms, he searched her face and then, closing his eyes, brought his lips to hers. . . mouth over mouth. . . as if to tell her how much he was done with words.

Buffy's mouth was as warm and soft and pliable as before in the kranooks' cabin, but this moment was different somehow. There was urgency behind their kiss because they were in real danger, but there was something less. . . desperate about Buffy. Maybe she was surer of herself and her feelings toward him. To be quite honest, Spike felt more certain of his own. . . maybe his demon twin's speech had given him some confidence to set things in motion with her. He'd known the feelings had been there all along, but he just needed a bit of a push to act on them.

She drew back just a bit. "Hey," she said with a gentleness he had rarely experienced from her.

"What'd you stop for?"

"It feels wonderful. . . you feel wonderful." One of her legs was between his, she rubbed her thigh against his obvious arousal so that he groaned in desire. "But your mind is somewhere else. . . what's up?"

He smoothed back a strand of her hair from her forehead, allowing his fingers to linger over her chin. "Um, well, pet, could it be the whole imminent apocalypse?"

"No. It's something else."

He swallowed and was somewhat surprised by the words that passed his lips, "I'm human. Can we make this work if I'm just. . . a man?"

Laying her head against his chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his ribcage, she didn't hesitate, "And I'm merely a Slayer among Slayers. . . no matter what Roxy said." She propped her chin on his sternum. "And hey, I'm human, too. Last time I checked." She lifted an arm, looked at the limb with a cocked head, and wiggled it around as if it defined her "human-ness."

He couldn't help but laugh again.

"Contrary to what you might believe, I learned something from dating humans in the past and that is, the strength and speed don't matter. It's the connection shared. . . here. . . and here." She swept fingers over his forehead and over his heart. "Besides most of my friends are human, and they manage the good fight just fine."

"But you don't date your friends."

"I do. I have. I want to. You're my friend." She bit her lip. "And the other thing on your mind?"

"Angel."

"You're kissing me and thinking about Angel?"

"Well, yeah," he said almost sheepishly.

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted or laugh," she teased. Her eyes took in his expression. "Seriously, what about him?"

"Well, for one thing, there's this little girl named Celeste that the two of you had together."

She blinked. "What! Celeste isn't even my child!"

"But she has no mum and her father is. . . well, not exactly fit to raise her. Won't that put a bit of a hitch in. . . us?" The confusion on her face pressed him to continue, "I mean, won't you want to raise her with Angel?"

Buffy's jaw dropped. Then, she narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't have any right to raise Celeste. Yeah, I think that she doesn't need to be raised by human Angel and crew but. . . you know, the person that should probably have the say about where she lives is probably the other. . . you know. . . you." Reaching up, she tapped his forehead with her index finger. "There's something more buzzing around in that head of yours. Spill."

Despite the levity in her tone, the seriousness shining from her green eyes made him hesitate. Should he tell her the truth? He took a deep breath. Her stubbornness was making its presence known, too.

"I'm. . . I. . ." He stared at the cavern wall, trying to decide how to say what he needed to say.

"Hey, mister," she murmured, stroking his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere. . . no matter what's on your mind. I know you have every right not to believe that, but I promise you that I'm not."

"What are your feelings for Angel. . . our Angel?" Spike asked in a rush.

A smile spread over her face. "Jealous much?"

He squirmed a little in her arms but didn't stop touching her. "You're liking this way too much, pet."

"Let me ask you this. Why do you have to know what my feelings are for Angel? How will that knowledge help you?"

"You get that from your shrink?" he asked, his sense of humor poking out its head. Perhaps she was right. He didn't need to know those kinds of details.

She innocently rolled her eyes to the left and grinned. "Maybe. You do realize that I'm with you, right? And not anyone else."

"Say it again," he said, his voice low with desire, forehead touching hers.

"What? That I'm with you?"

"No, the other thing. . . what you said to me earlier."

"I said lotsa things earlier. . . about practically every past boyfriend I've ever had."

He gave her a look. "I just want to hear you say it out loud again."

"Fine," she whispered, kissing him softly on the lips and pulling him against her again. "I love you."

"I love you, too, pet."

She smiled up at him to show him how pleased she was at his words.

"Just had to have to opportunity to say it out loud," he whispered.

"And I want you," she added, moving from his mouth to his earlobe to his neck, alternating between kisses and nips.

Spike groaned. "Likewise, pet," he managed, "We really have to stop almost. . . you know. . ."

She laughed with her face against his chest, and Spike thought it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "We do have bad timing, huh?"

"Listen to me, love."

Her eyes were wide and clear. "I'm listening."

"I promise you. I promise that we'll do this right proper as soon as. . ."

"With dates and everything?"

"Dates and everything. I was an English gentleman, after all. Think I could handle a courtship."

"A courtship? Oooo. . . sounds too. . ."

"Boring? Stuffy?"

"Normal." She wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sure we'll find a way to make it," he paused to nuzzle her neck and hear her soft groan, "exciting."

"You better." She twisted out of his arms and picked up the backpack. "We should get going."

Spike cocked his head and set his jaw. "Right."

xxxxx

With each syllable that Spike read off the wrinkled bit of paper that he stretched taut against his palms, the wind swirled faster and multi-colored lights flashed and sparked around them. Her eyes squinting in the swirling dust, Buffy knelt beside the shaking device, holding the metal legs firm against the grass-covered ground.

"Hurry, Spike!" she shouted against the shrieking air stream. "I can't hold this much longer!"

Legs spread wide, Spike complied by reading the chant-like spell faster, his voice rising above the din. Willow's name flew off his lips to end the spell, and suddenly, everything went as quiet and still as the eye of a hurricane.

The hair that had escaped from her ponytail settling around her face, Buffy's eyes scanned around the small courtyard that was shrouded with shadows from the clusters of trees and bushes.

Nothing was different.

Spike frowned. "Well, that was a big disappoi. . ."

A high-pitched squeal resounded followed by a tiny pop as if the air pressure changed.

"Willow!" Buffy cried, scrambling to her feet.

Eyes closed, the redhead stood with her back to her friend. Her forehead wrinkled as she opened her eyes. "Buffy?"

"Will!" Buffy rushed to hug her friend. "You don't know how glad. . ."

And she went right through her friend's body.

Spike caught her in his arms, and she immediately twisted around to catch the horrified expression on Willow's face.

"Oh my god, did I hurt you?" Buffy asked, reaching a helpless hand out to her friend.

Spike let his hand linger on Buffy's bicep. "I don't think Red's hurting, pet."

"Oh." Buffy studied Willow's disconcerted expression. "What's wrong?"

Willow grasped the hem of her shirt. "You called my astral body across

dimensions so that I could help you guys, right?"

"Yeah." Buffy couldn't help the worry that crept into her voice.

The redhead gave them a frustrated look. "And you had to do it when I was wearing my pj's?"

"Sorry, Will, but we didn't have time to worry about what you might be doing over there." Buffy took a step back into Spike's body; for a moment, she almost couldn't believe what had occurred between them not an hour ago. She wondered briefly if Willow would notice anything different.

She shrugged. "S'okay. Just next time, be careful! I could have been doing goddess knows what!"

"Consider us properly chastised."

Willow grinned at her friends. "Good. Now what do you need?"

"Restoration of Angel's soul," Spike interjected.

"Again?" Willow shook her head and clucked her tongue. "He's always losing his soul and needing me to put it back in him. You'd think that he'd have learned his lesson by now." She gave Buffy a pointed glance.

"What? Don't look at me! I didn't do it to him. . ." Buffy felt Spike almost imperceptibly stiffen behind her. "Not in like the last two or three times!"

Willow lifted an eyebrow at Buffy and Spike's body language. "Kinda figured." She fixed her eyes on Buffy's. "Details after we finish this?"

Buffy grinned, feeling nostalgic for high school when she and Willow had gossiped about boys at the Bronze. "Of course."

"Good." The witch began to pace back and forth. "Now I'm not sure if I can do magics here." For the first time, she noticed her surroundings. "Wherever here is. And I'll need some ingredients and. . . where can I find an orb of Thessulah?"

Viewing the oddly lit, paradoxically brilliant green garden with new eyes, Buffy responded to the one thing she knew, "We're in one of Stephanie's courtyards in Vampire Villa. . . apparently, it's one of the clearest places to conduct cross-dimensional magic."

"Who's Stephanie?"

"The vampire responsible for restoring me to my proper, well. . . me." The familiar voice sent icy shivers shooting up Buffy's spine.

His voice dark and low, Spike identified the obvious, "Angelus."

Angelus ambled slowly forth from the shadows, a confident smirk on his face, his fingers steepled together. "You got it."

Willow threw out a few mumbled words and flung out her arm. An almost imperceptible force ripped through the air, slamming into Angelus's body and sending him crashing against the stone wall of Stephanie's fortress. He hit the stone without a sound, and his body slid to the ground.

"Magic. Check." She crossed her arms, satisfied with her work. "And pretty much in line with my real self."

Buffy carefully stepped around her friend to examine Angelus's prone form; she hadn't liked going through Willow. It was too disconcerting. "Is he out?"

"Buffy." Spike's voice carried a warning as she nudged the unmoving vampire with the toe of her boot.

The warning came too late, though, as strong fingers circled her ankle and tugged hard. Angelus pulled Buffy down, using her motion to pull himself to his feet. He dragged her back up before she had a chance to lash out and pressed his fingers into her throat, cutting off her oxygen. Fear flooding her chest and her heart pounding against her ribs, Buffy moaned and clawed at his hand, but his fingers were a vice grip.

Angelus nipped her neck with one tooth and licked upward, his face a mask of pleasure at the taste of a Slayer's blood filling his mouth.

"One word. One move. And she's dead."

TBC. . .