Chapter 9 of How Many Days by Xionin

Title: La Belle Dame Sans Regrets - Chapter 9 of How Many Days
Disclaimer: Joss doesn't play with his toys anymore. Someone has to, dammit!
Rating: R
Pairing: Buffy/Spike, Dawn/Other, Willow/Giles, Willow/Other
Summary: Post-Season 7. This is a sequel to 'Don't Stop the Dance'
Distribution: Anywhere you like, just let me know.
Feedback: is welcome. ~Xionin (xionin@beautiful-freak.com)
Thank you: Maribel: the most amazing beta in any universe.

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Tu ments, ma soeur
Tu brises mon coeur
Je pense, tu sais
Erreurs, jamais
J'ecoute, tu parles
Je ne comprends pas bien
La belle dame sans regrets -Sting
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Willow's voice calls Buffy back to consciousness. She wakes to a room softly illuminated by candles, firelight and the occasional stray beam of daylight peeking through her closed curtains.

Willow, Giles, Colin and Dawn stand in one corner of the room, cloaked by a bit of Willow's magic. To anyone else, Buffy appears to be alone.

She shifts in the bed and looks over at the familiar gold dancing in the silver. The carvings writhe and smile under her gaze.

He is near.

He doesn't stir the window this time; instead he steps out of the flame of her fireplace. Buffy sits up, her eyes wide with joy and confusion.

"Spike." She whispers.

"My love."

"I thought you'd never return." Soft tears drip down her cheeks as she holds her arms out to him. "Afterwhat happened before-"

"She doesn't matter to me, my sweet. Only you." He smiles a slow, promising smile crossing the short distance to her. He sits on the side of the bed and strokes her cheek with the back of his hand. "We will be together forever, my darling." He rests his hand on hers.

"Yesoh yes, please William."

He frowns.

"Spike."

She frowns.

"Yes, Spike."

"You called me William. Who is he?" There is a twinge of jealously in his voice. Buffy blinks, a slow awareness creeping over her.

This is not Spike?

"N-no one."

"Is there someone else enjoying your affections, sweetness?" He smiles, but it does not reach his eyes. His hand squeezes hers a little more forcefully than is pleasant. Buffy laughs it off, her mind racing through her conversation with Willow.

"Of course not, silly. I only love" This is not Spike. "Spike." She smiles sweetly. His jaw tenses for a moment but then he relaxes, leaning in to kiss her. She moves her head away.

"What is it, my love?" The danger edges back into his voice.

"Nothing." You are not Spike! "It's justwe haven't really talked i-in a long time. I want to know, where have you been?"

"I cannot tell you, love, you know that. Please do not ask again."

"Yeah, but why can't you tell me?"

"Why do you want to know?" His nostrils flare as he fights to disguise his rising anger. "Isn't it enough that I'm here? Why must you question it? Oram I not enough for you?"

"Spike is more than enough for me." She answers carefully, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and casually breaking contact with him. "You, on the other hand, are not Spike."

Willow and the others fight the urge to gasp and say 'Go Buffy!'

"Don't be silly." 'Spike' rises from the bed and approaches her, smiling graciously. "No one else can love you like I do." He embraces her and she doesn't pull away, though inside she recoils. His voice drops intimately. "And no one else can make you feellike this."

His hand drops to her breast, a thumb grazing her nipple, and she has to close her eyes. The feeling of his touch sends shockwaves through her. He nuzzles her neck as his other hand slides around to squeeze her bottom. He supports most of her weight as the hand on her breast falls to her sex, cupping it. She moans, all previous thoughts flying from her head.

Giles taps Willow on the shoulder but she signals for him to be patient.

'Spike' whispers words of love into Buffy's skin as he licks her neck and nibbles on her ear. She is melting into him, overcome with a wave of lust and need. He slips his hand inside her pants, finding her wet with want, and fingers her clit. She jumps and shakes, climaxing immediately. She is so far gone in the pleasure that she doesn't notice how the silver candelabra begins to glow a bright blue and the flames leap on the tips of the candles.
'Spike' moans as a mist floats from the candelabra to him, enveloping them both.

"Visidalis." Willow whispers and the veil that was shielding them falls. They rush the couple silently, Willow in the lead.

"Arretare!" She throws her hand up towards the demon and he is held suspended. Buffy collapses into Giles' arms. He and Colin move her to safety while invisible breezes whip through the air. They brush past Dawn whose eyes have taken on their familiar golden hue. Her hair whips in the air as she comes up in front of the demon. Willow stands behind. They clasp hands on either side of it. Willow begins to chant.

"I call upon the great powers of the north. Your son of fire seeks rest. Let him not bring harm to those whom have sought your protection."

A bluish white circle appears above their heads. Dawn glances up, tempted to shield her eyes, but Willow hold her grasp.

"Power of Light. Power of Love. The fire burns, but water heals." Willow's voice bellows through the din of the whirlwind. "Now! Dawn, now!"
Dawn and Willow release each other and step back as the creature regains movement.

"Buffy!" The demon shrieks.

His eyes are wild with anger and he spins about, looking for her. Instead, his gaze falls upon Willow and then Dawn. He freezes, looking back and forth between then, as if deciding which one to attack. Catching his attention, Willow swipes at the candelabra. He smacks her arm and it burns where he touched her. Dawn attacks from the other side and he goes after her, but stays under the circle which he has yet to notice.

"Willow!" Giles cries out as the circle begins to collapse.

Wait. Her voice echoes in his head and he backs up. Willow and Dawn take turns batting after the candelabra until the demon finally grabs it protectively. As he does, Willow and Dawn hold out their arms to reform the arc of the circle, but do not touch each other. The light above crackles and widens, stretching until it begins to drip to the floor around the demon. He hisses.

The circle continues its descent, forming a blue cylinder that encases the liderc. Willow and Dawn chant together.

"Aquarum. Aquarum. Aquarum."

The liderc screams in agony as the circle turns into a pillar of water. The others watch in horror as his form begins to morph. The face, body and hair color all changing rapidly, no doubt impressions of the men he had been throughout the centuries. Finally the form melts into nothing but a pure, golden light; trapped inside the blue of the water. The silver candelabra pools into the liquid, absorbed by it. Terrible howls fill the air as the creature disintegrates. Finally there is nothing left but the sound of the wind.

"Cessant." Willow whispers and it all fades away as quickly as it appeared. The air goes quite still. The four of them are breathing heavily as the room falls quiet.

"Willow." Giles' eyes beam with pride and admiration. "You- you did it!" Willow smiles as she and Dawn approach the men who still hold the form of the unconscious Slayer. All of them check her for any signs of injury.

"Let's get her into the bed." Dawn guides them and covers her sister with the duvet after Colin lays her down. She sits beside her and smoothes back her hair, kissing her forehead.

"She's going to be fine, now." Willow places a reassuring hand on Dawn's shoulder.

"I know, Willow." Dawn sighs. "I just wish..."

"You wish she would have told us what she was really feeling...all these months." Giles says softly.

"Yes. We could have..."

"She's always been one to keep her problems to herself, Dawnie." Willow speaks softly as she waves her hands above the sleeping Slayer. She searches her soul and finds it broken with despair. Tears form in her eye as she thinks of how hard it will be for her friend to recover from this.

"I know, but I thought we'd gotten closer. I thought she wasn't keeping things from me anymore. Not after everything we've been through."

"You are, Dawn. You guys are closer than I've ever seen you." Willow takes Dawn's face in her hands. Giles and Colin stand back a little to give them room. "She loves you, Dawn. And we all know you love her. Don't think that, just because she chose to hide her grief from you, that she loves you any less. Sometimes...sometimes grief is too personal."

"But she could have died, Willow." Dawn sniffles. She searches Willow's face for some understanding and she finds it.

"I know, sweetie. I know, but she didn't. And she is going to need you...and all of us...to be there for her." Willow looks back to her friend; her face the picture of sadness. "This...oh goddess...losing him a second time...I-I don't know..."

"Yeah." Dawn says softly. They all stare at Buffy's sleeping form, the torment of the events already etched in her countenance.
"We should let her rest. And I still wanna figure out where that thing came from." She turns to Willow. "Are you sure it's gone?"

"Oh, it's gone. But if it will make you feel better, I'll leave a shield over her while she sleeps. Just something to ward off any lingering evil."

"Thanks Will." Dawn allows Willow to lead her away from the bed. Quietly, they all file out of the room, closing the door behind them. The morning sun shines brightly in the hall windows. They have been up all night.

"Well...it's morning, isn't it?" Giles yawns. "I-if you're hungry, I could have something prepared." Despite fighting his fatigue, Giles understands Dawn's need to get to the bottom of this; even if the threat is gone.

"Some tea, Mr. Giles, would be nice." Colin leads Dawn down the steps behind Willow and the older Watcher.

"Is that the British answer to everything?" Dawn jokes half-heartedly as they reach the landing. Everyone chuckles lightly. Colin is about to respond when Dawn suddenly goes into convulsions. She crumples towards the ground; the only thing breaking her fall is Colin's quick thinking as he catches her.

"Dawn?" The chorus of three converges upon her.

"Oh god, get her into the room there!" Giles rushes ahead and clears the pillows off the largest sofa. Colin quickly lays her down and Willow comes to her side.

Dawn's eyes are rolling in her head, golden flashes bright as the sun blinding them all. Giles and Colin have to shield their eyes.

"God! What is happening to her?" Colin falls to his knees, throwing his weight on her legs in an attempt to keep them down as she is thrashing.

"Willow, what is it?" Giles asks frantically. Willow closes her eyes and scans the young woman, her white hair damp and clinging to her forehead. All at once her mouth flies open and a piercing scream emerges.

"NO!" Giles grabs her.

"Willow!"

"NO! SPIKE...DAWN...NOOOOO!!" Her body goes rigid in Giles' hands and then she collapses in his arms. At the same time Dawn's convulsions stop.

Both women are unconscious as the men eye each other nervously, having no idea in hell what to do.

"Colin, get on the phone and call Richard. I'll call the coven. We need help now!"

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'There couldn't possibly be someone buzzing me at this ungodly hour.' Wesley thinks to himself. Reluctantly shifting from a very comfortable position, he rolls over in his bed to glance at the clock. He winces when the red numbers confirm that it is, indeed, 3:17AM.

"Oh...good lord." He grumbles. "Yes?" He hauls himself upright and runs groggy hands through his hair before feeling around the nightstand for his glasses. "What is it? I'm coming!" He doesn't bother throwing on a shirt as he shuffles to the front door of his new apartment. Whoever it is doesn't deserve the courtesy of a fully clad ex-Watcher. Stopping one more moment to shake himself awake, he looks through the peephole at the slightly familiar face on the other side and unlocks on the door.

"This had better bloody well be of the utmost importance." He addresses his unannounced guest as he swings it open.

"Terribly sorry to disturb you, Mr. Wyndham-Price sir." The fair-haired young man in the smart suit certainly knows the way to a gentlemen's good side. Flattery will get you...well...it won't get the door slammed in your face. Wesley recognizes him from the Wolfram and Hart archives office, but can't recall a name to go with it.

"What is it...er...?"

"Brendan, sir. Brendan Fitzwater." The young man bows slightly in introduction. Wesley's sleep-fuzzed brain recognizes the mark of good breeding with amusement.

"Yes alright, Brendan, what is it that you have to drag me out of bed at such an obscene hour?" He doesn't bother to stifle the ragged yawn as it creeps over him.

"Yes, sir, about that...I'm terribly sorry, but this is very...important." Brendan stammers.

"What is?"

"This...sir." Brendan hands the man a small package. Wesley takes it, his curiosity winning out over his fatigue. He adjusts his glasses and looks up at the messenger.

"Wellwhat is it?" He eyes the small, rectangular package, noting the lack of markings. "And where did it come from?" Brendan looks back and forth between his superior and the parcel. A note of apprehension hangs in the air about him. Wesley frowns, tilting his head. His senses are awakening to the fact that this man is very uncomfortable at the moment. The younger man shifts from foot to foot, under the increasingly intense scrutiny. Wesley, taking pity on the youngster, waves him inside.

"Where are my mannersplease, do come in."

Closing the door behind him, his attention falls back to the package in his hand. He gestures for Brendan to sit in the oversized armchair and then takes the couch for himself, gently placing the package on the coffee table.

"So" Wesley feels the seamless brown paper wrapped around the thing. He doesn't know if it is his imagination, but it feels almost warm. He glances up at his guest. "Are you going to tell me what my gift is? Or should I guess?"

"I-I'm afraid I'm just the courier, sir." Brendan adjusts his tie in an obvious sign of discomfort. Taking in his demeanor, Wesley eyes the man suspiciously.

"Who sent this?" He points at the parcel. "Sent you?" Brendan's eyes meet his for a moment before he quickly looks away. Wesley frowns.

"I'm not at liberty to say, sir." He firmly fixes his eyes on the floor.

"I beg your pardon?" Wesley lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Youyou were sent here with-with this and at this hour and you're not at liberty to say?" Brendan, seemingly drawing on some reserve of nerves deep inside, turns to Wesley and looks him straight in the eye.

"No." A beat passes. "Sir." Wesley's mouth drops open to say something, but he shuts it quickly, suddenly tired of the exchange. Brendan, no matter how sharply dressed, could possibly be a lackey. The matter at hand is the package and now he feels awake enough to handle whatever is inside.

"Were you instructed to sit there while I open it?" Brendan's demeanor shifts into something that Wesley, under different circumstances, would call cool composure. At this moment, is seems more like his training is kicking in. The sudden shift makes Wesley wary of the contents of the nondescript parcel. The younger man meets his eyes nonplussed.

"I was instructed, sir, to assist youin anyway you should require it." There is a hint of a smile on the man's lips. Curious, Wesley re-assesses his original measure of him.

"Assistance."

"Yes sir."

"With?"

"Whatever you require, sir." Brendan does smile now, and Wesley returns it. It isn't often that one comes across someone so adept at such melodramatic secrecy. He finds it somewhat amusing.

"Very well then, let's see what you've brought me." Wesley leans over the package and, using the ball of a pen, slices into the wrapping paper.

The first thing he notices is the heat emanating from it. The initial blast, when he peels back the first protective layer, causes him to jump away startled. He glances up at his visitor with renewed interest.

"What...department do you work in, Brendan? Archives?" He narrows his eyes at the young man who returns his gaze steadily.

"Yes sir." He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Archival recovery, to be exact." Wesley's eyebrows reach for the ceiling.

Archival Recovery, or as it came to be known back in his Council days the "Lost and Found," was the grim job of recovering lost artifacts and valuable texts. It almost always entailed unseemly situations and inherent danger. Archivists were the bread and butter of the Council, and Wesley suspects the same to be true of Wolfram and Hart. If their archives were as...guarded...as the Council's, then their recoverists were probably just as dangerous; not to mention unpredictable.

Wesley leans back away from the object and rests on the back cushions of the couch; once again reassessing his guest.

"Is this a recovery?" He holds Brendan's gaze and is only slightly surprised at the smile curling the other man's lips. He is willing to bet that it is and that Brendan had been the man to retrieve it. The only questions were what is it and why bring it to him in the pre-dawn hours; and at home.

"Yes sir. My own." Brendan's expression can only be described as 'proud'. He confirms all of Wesley's predilections with one, arrogant smirk.

"Ah." Wesley studies him for a few more heartbeats and then he returns to the task at hand. "Well...let's see why you've dragged me out of bed, shall we?"

With the paper finally gone, Wesley fingers the seams of the box, trying to find the leverage to pry it open. His nails dig into the juncture and the lid pops up; falling back onto the table.

Neither Wesley nor Brendan sees it touch the smooth tabletop. They've both covered their eyes from the blinding light.
They can't hear each other yelling due to the wails that emanate from the light itself.

Backing away form the object in unison, the men are able to get their bearings. Wesley shakes off the initial shock of light and the noise. He checks on the younger man, who appears to be enraptured by the vision before him.

When Wesley looks up at the pool of light in the center of his living room, he distinguishes the form of a man inside. Agonizing screams are coming from that figure and it is a gut-wrenching sound.

He suddenly wishes he were still in bed sound asleep.

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A/N: I wanted to have this chapter up on Friday, but like an idiot I'd erased the beta'd version and Maribel had to rescue me.
Have I told you how much I adore her? Well, I do.

On to your feedback:
Spikealicious: Of course Spike is coming back, and it won't be too much longer. I enjoy yur work as well, so it seems we have a mutual admiration society on our hands. ;]
Pattyanne: Pins and needles, eh? I think it'll be well worth it.
Mary Rose: Sorry for the delay. My goal is to get 1 - 2 chapters up per week. Hope that makes you smile!
Jerusha: I love it that no one can figure this one out. I love to keep you guessing. ;]
Mar ala: Not much longer, sweetie, I promise. Just enjoy the ride.
Ranaslayer: You're right, I am being hard on Buffy. She will be rewarded, though. Honest, I won't pull a 'Joss'. LOL

Til next time!

~Xio

TBC Chapter 10: Another Day