A/N; Mwhahahaaa! (That was my attempt at an evil laugh, for you that didn't get it.) I updated! A few days too late, granted, but I updated! You can thank my severe case of insomnia for this chapter (It's 03.49 where I am,) and even though my brain probably will run out of my ears soon, I finished the chapter, and I am now posting it!

Again, thanks LiZzin, you're a gem! Your reviews makes this soo worth it! Any other that wants to leave a review? Please do so! Comments, questions, threats? Lay it on me! Please?

(I have now checked the spelling, and fixed the misstakes. Please tell me if you find something I missed?)

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Finally he was able to lit up the goddamn cigarette! He thanked the weather gods for the timely rain-clouds that protected him from the deadly sunbeams. He stood just outside the front door, casually leaning against the wall, the out-jutting roof protecting him from the downpour. After the first drag of the cancer stick, his head fell back against the wall, his eyes closed and he sighed in bliss as the nicotine-filled smoke worked its way down his long dead lungs. His mind closed down completely.

He was totally unprepared for the light touch he suddenly felt on his upper left arm, and he jumped, startled, and managed to burn his hand on the flying embers of his cigarette. Explosive curses began to leave his mouth, but he managed to stop them abruptly when he saw who had disturbed him.

Buffy tried hard to suppress the totally inappropriate giggle that threatened to spill out of her mouth, but she couldn't hide the smile that bloomed on her lips at his reaction. Suddenly she felt like she had been transported back in time, and she was standing in restfield cemetery again, opposite a chipped, pre-soul, pre-love confessions Spike.

Oh God, she had really missed seeing him like this!

She had missed him, period.

Spike couldn't help but to feel a bit embarrassed, letting her sneak up on him like that, but he could really only blame himself after that total space-out. He tossed the cigarette on the ground and put it out with his boot before he turned towards her.

"You didn't have to do that. I mean... as long as you don't blow smoke in my face or something, I don't mind you smoking." Her eyes were focused on the ground as she said that, her arms crossed against her chest. How pathetic was it really that she suddenly felt like a schoolgirl again, talking to the guy she had a crush on?

He shrugged. "Know you don't like it, pet. 's no big deal." He frowned at her when he noticed how she was dressed. She was wearing a light blue rain coat with the hood down and her feet were actually donned in a pair of honest-to-god wellingtons! He'd thought she'd rather die than wear anything other than the most fashionable in footwear, and even though these rubber boots matched her raincoat perfectly with the same light blue colour and unreasonably cute white flowers decorating them, they were still... wellingtons.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, looking at her questioningly.

"I've been stuck indoors the entire day. I'm going stir crazy. Thought I'd just go for a walk. I'd call it patrolling, but according to Giles there hasn't been any demons around these parts for ages. There isn't anything to slay here."

"So you're going out alone?" He looked behind her, expecting Dawn to have followed her, when it occurred to him that she must have left the baby upstairs in her room. "What about the little one?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

"She's with Dawn and Rona. She was going to take a nap, and Dawn suggested I'd go out for a bit. She said I had that about-to-start-climbing-the-walls-look on my face." In reality, Dawn had nearly shoved her out the door as soon as Giles had left them to go downstairs. When Buffy had seemed reluctant to leave Heather, Dawn had promised her to go get Rona as extra slayer protection. After that Buffy hadn't argued any more. She really needed to get out of that room. It was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

Plus, as soon as Spike had left before, she'd had to call on every once of self control left in her not to run after him right away.

There was still a lot they needed to talk about.

Spike relaxed visibly when he heard that Heather was in good hands. Rona was a god slayer, if anything were to happen she would do anything to protect the little girl. And after he'd seen Dawn draw a knife from her ankle he had no doubts about her ability to defend herself.

"So the junior slayer is here too. That's good." he began rubbing his neck with one hand, suddenly a bit unsure of what he was going to do. What id she want him to do?

Thankfully she spoke up before he had the chance to ask her that.

"Do you wanna go with me? I just... there are still things we nee to talk about." her eyes were glued to her feet again, and she looked fidgety and uncomfortable. Spike tensed up. Yeah, they still had a lot of things to talk about, the most important things had not been mentioned at all in all the hours they'd sent together in her room earlier. They needed to talk.

And he was terrified of what she was going to say.

***

Barnaby eyed the man in front of him. He took notice of the well tailored tweed suit, the wire-rimmed glasses and the greying hair at the man's temples. Everything about him clearly said 'educated gentleman', but there was something else, just under the surface, that he had trouble identifying.

The DCI couldn't help but compare this older man to young William. There simply couldn't be two people more different from each other, and if this really were young Anne Sinclair's uncle, (and he wasn't too sure about that part; there were definitely something they weren't telling him,) he could understand why he would have opposed the relationship between her and William. The few seconds the two men had been in the same room had made it extremely clear that there was a firmly rooted animosity between them. And yet...

The thing that was simmering under the surface of the older man was getting harder and harder to figure out. There was something there, something in the way he carried himself, in the steely look in his eyes...

It was the same look he'd seen in the younger man's eyes. And then it hit him. These two men had at least one thing in common other than their devotion to Anne Sinclair.

Both William Sinclair and Rupert Giles were very dangerous men.

It took more than that realisation to intimidate him however. He had a job to do, and he was determined to do it. His gut was telling him that the key to unlocking at least part of this mystery lay with Anne Sinclair and these two men. William's words from before echoed in his mind, and he wanted at least some answers before this day was over.

"What can you tell me about the watchers council?"

Giles sighed. The thought in front of his mind at that moment was; 'I should have dusted Spike years ago.'

***

The rain hadn't stopped, but it had eased up a bit, transforming the fat raindrops to a much lighter drizzle. Buffy had pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head to protect her hair the best she could.

It had taken ten minutes of walking in silence for Spikes patience to snap completely. Suddenly he stopped, and it took Buffy a few steps to realize that he wasn't walking beside her anymore. She had to stop and turn around to face him.

"You said we needed to talk. So talk. This bloody silent treatment is driving me insane here!" his face was set in grim lines, and he talked through clenched teeth. He held his eyes locked with hers, his gaze never wavering.

When she still didn't say anything, he took a couple of steps forward, invading her private space. He didn't touch her, but he leaned his face forward until their noses were only inches apart. The hard look in his eyes softened when he saw fear in her eyes. Fuck! The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him.

"Please talk to me kitten. I can't read your mind, though I really wish I could most of the time. Talk to me. Please." He hated the pleading note to his tone, but he needed her to say something!

He nearly took a step backwards when she closed her eyes and something that looked an awful lot like a single tear ran down her cheek. It could have been the rain, but...

"I... I don't know what to say." When she said that, her eyes snapped open again and her hazel locked with his blue. Her voice sounded stronger the next time she spoke; "Why don't you tell me what you want me to talk about. There is so much, I don't know where to start."

He just looked at her for a couple of minutes, then he straightened up and took a step back. He was preparing himself to ask the question that was always in the forefront of his mind, but at the same time was the question he most dreaded the answer to. "I want you to be completely honest with me. We... I can't do this if you're not. Can you promise me that?"

There was no hesitation whatsoever in her answer."I swear, Spike. Whatever you ask."

He closed his eyes and steeled himself before he asked the question. He looked up and looked straight in her eyes again, then he spoke, so low it was almost a whisper;

"Did you mean it?"

There was no point in pretending she didn't know what he was talking about. She knew all to well, because that night had replayed itself over and over again in her mind for the last 17 months.

When she came back after her second death, he had told her that he saw her jumping off that tower every night, and that he'd imagined himself doing something faster, more clever, to save her so she didn't have to die. Every night he saved her. And now she knew exactly what he'd meant.

Every night she saved him too.

And every night he believed her.

She stepped closer to him, until she was as close as he'd been to her before. She rested her hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes. With a clear, strong voice that clearly showed she meat every word, she calmly stated;

"I love you, William. I love you, Spike. Just you. All of you. I did then, and I do now. I love you."

He blinked slowly. Then he blinked again. The next thing she knew, his arms had bounded like steel bands around her, crushing her to him, and he was kissing her breathless.

His brain had closed down when he'd heard her, refusing to process the enormity of what she'd told him. She loved him! Then and now, she loved him! Rendered speechless for once in his existence, he acted instead. He kissed her, hard and demanding at first, then he slowed down to a slow, sensual caress of her lips.

He had her now. She was his, really his, just as he'd been hers for such a long time. They were his, her and his little girl, and he would never let them be taken from him again.

***

Her eyes snapped open. A surge of power rippled through her, and she felt it. Had she been inclined towards self-doubt she would almost had have a hard time believing it was finally happening, but if there was something she didn't lack it was confidence in her abilities.

It came as no surprise then, only with a sense of pure elation she realised her wait was finally over! She had thought it would take months before all the strength she required for her endeavour had returned to her, but instead it had happened in just a couple of days.

Their power was weakening, and she was getting stronger.

It was time.

***

Paul Horner appeared in a swirl of black mist on the road outside the Bed and Breakfast. The broadsword, still coverer in bloodstains was tightly clenched in his right hand. He moved with sure steps, a man on a mission, towards the front doors of the building. When he saw the doors open and a man run out, a paper held over his head as protection from the rain, he halted, and waited.

When Barnaby had disappeared from his sight, he moved forward again, still clutching the sword. If anyone had seen him, they would have noticed that his eyes were rolled back into his skull, showing only the whites. But no one saw him.

He was coming for the child, and there was nothing, no one, that could stop him now.