Hold Fast

by
Tabaqui

7 Worry

Spike breathed, slow and deep, savoring the warm, musky scent that surrounded him.  

Smell so good, love...   He bowed his head a little and licked the taut arch of Xander's neck - let his teeth scrape lightly over the scar.  Xander shuddered, his head thrown back on Spike's shoulder and his fingers, at the moment, digging into Spike's hips.  His body was quivering with tension and pleasure and Spike wound his arms tighter around Xander's ribs and breathed again, burrowing into the sweat-damp hair that lay over Xander's shoulder.

Spike, love...   "Please..."  Xander was grinding his hips down, trying for more contact and Spike let him - pulled him down tight, loving the hot, clinging feel of Xander around his cock, loving the grasping flutter of muscle as he pushed deeper.  He slid one hand down Xander's chest and belly to his cock and stroked there for a moment, then reached lower, between the spread legs.  Spike was on his knees on the bed, and Xander was kneeling over him, back to chest.  Spike loved being able to hold him this way - loved the press of flesh all down him.  Xander's hands slid back, grasping his buttocks and trying to push him, to make him move.

"Sspike...please fuck me..."

"Am, love...feel this..."  Spike's fingers paused for a moment to caress the soft skin of Xander's tightly drawn-up balls, then moved on to the slick skin that was beneath them.  He circled the root of his own cock with his fingers - scratched lightly on the stretched muscle that surrounded it - then pushed one finger in, so slowly, filling Xander that much more.  Xander writhed, panting, and Spike moved his hips, lifting Xander just a little with his other arm and pulling him back down, rubbing over that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside.  Xander's fingers sank into Spike's buttocks, hard enough to bruise, and Spike moaned.  He twisted the finger that was inside and shivered when Xander did, his teeth biting down on the scar.  There was a fizzing through the link like champagne, little prickles of pleasure along the nerves and Xander bucked desperately.

Fuck, MOVE...Spike, just...move, move...

Shhh...almost, love...  Spike let his finger slip out, and he moved his hands over Xander's body - scratching over his  belly, pinching at nipples, just wanting to pull Xander as close to him as he could - to touch everything, to know every inch.  Xander's hands roved over hip and buttock - he lifted them over his head and hooked them around Spike's neck, pulling him closer, turning his own head so they could share a kiss.  Spike nipped at Xander's jaw - his chin - pulled Xander's lower lip into his mouth and sucked for a moment and then kissed him, tongue fucking into the warm, sweet flesh faster than his cock was.  Then he let go and pushed Xander forward onto his hands and knees - curled his fingers around Xander's hips and moved once, hard.

Ready then?  Love you...

"Yeah, god -"   Love you Xander gasped and Spike started to fuck in earnest, moving as hard and fast and as deep as Xander could take.  Loving the clench and shudder every time he hit the right spot, loving how Xander's hips moved in counterpoint, how his knees spread wider on the bed, welcoming him in, wanting more of him.  Spike dug his thumbs into the tensed muscle around his cock and pried Xander open a little wider, watching himself sliding in and pulling out, pushing with the tips of his thumbs until they were inside, pulling Xander open and Xander was crying out now, breathy sounds of encouragement.  Spike sunk in deeper, spread him open further; arching his back, his legs trembling, he thrust, his whole body driving forward into willing, squirming flesh.   The double feeling, of fucking and being fucked - the incredible burn of the hard stretch that Xander pushed back into, wanting more - the heat and tip-to-root clench of silken flesh was almost overwhelming.  Then Xander clenched down harder - pushed the link wide and arched his back and thrust back hard and Spike nearly screamed.  

Love, do it, please - c'mon, yours, love, take it, take me...  Xander was groaning, panting - arching his throat, and Spike rammed forward hard, sending him to his belly, getting one hand under and around Xander's cock in a hard grip and snaking the other up to clench into his hair.  Chest to back, glorious heat and friction and sweat-wood-sweet-savory, the complicated scent that was love and home and family and mine.   Spike sucked salt-tinged flesh into his mouth - let the demon come out, whining with need and bite, deep and hard.  They both froze for a split second and then Spike was thrusting and sucking, all rhythm lost in the surge and twist and fire of his orgasm and Xander's.   Sensation coiling through and through the link: Xander's come hot over his hand, slick as oil and rich with musk, and the fist/body around his own cock.   The blood that tasted of desire and magic and spice, and the delicious sting and pull of being bitten.   The low, gasping cries that Xander couldn't stop as he undulated under Spike, his skin roughening with gooseflesh and his body practically vibrating around Spike's cock, and the vampire's own growling moan from deep in his chest as he shuddered to completion.

Fuckin' lovely, you're so lovely...always, Xander, always mine, yours, always, always...   Drifting into incoherency as the climax left them limp and gasping.

God yes, love you, always always...no, don't, want you there, love you there, holding me... Spike stopped in his half-hearted attempt to roll off Xander's back and simply collapsed over him, easing his fangs out carefully and licking up the smear of blood.  Xander's body was still clenching and fluttering around him and he moved his hips ever so slightly, loving the soft moan it elicited.

"Never get tired of that," Xander murmured, turning his head just a little so Spike could kiss him.  Spike did, awkward as the position was, and he slowly unwound his fingers from Xander's hair and stroked the tangled strands.

"Love this.  Don't ever cut it, pet."

"You just want it long so you can pull it when you fuck me," Xander mumbled, his hand twitching over the sheet and pulling Spike's out from under him - twining his fingers with Spike's sticky ones.

"That too, love.  But it feels so good...so soft," Spike nuzzled into the nape of Xander's neck, rubbing his cheek over the hair bunched there and Xander sighed.

Feels good when you pull it, though.  I won't cut it but you have to beat up everybody that calls me a girl.

Anything for you, pet.   Spike felt the rumbling rasp of the purr starting in his chest - felt Xander's delight through the link and let it go - let it get loud.  Xander took a deep breath and tried to purr back.

"Silly," Spike mumbled, his voice choppy from the purr, and Xander giggled.  Talking and purring at the same time never failed to make Xander laugh.  Spike glanced up at the dresser - at the postcards that had been stuck back into the mirror frame the first day they'd moved into the new house.    See if you laugh at poetry, then he thought, knowing it was Xander's not-so-secret weakness.    He whispered in Xander's ear.

"Rise with the wind, my great big serpent...Silence the birds and darken the air...Charge me with terror, alive for a moment...Strike for the heart and have me there..."

"What's that?  That's...weird."

"That's Auden, and he was a weird bloke.  Try this, then."  Spike shifted, just a little - rumbled the purr higher and grinned at the pleasure in the link.

"He kissed me awake and no one was sorry...The sun shone on sails, eyes, pebbles, anything...And the high green hill sits always by the sea...So, to remember our changing garden...We are linked as children in a circle dancing...My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely...And the high green hill sits always by the sea."  

"Like that, love?"

"Mmmm...weird but pretty.  How do you remember all those?"

"My very warped upbringing," Spike rumbled, and Xander giggled again.   His free hand was on Spike's thigh where it sprawled down on the bed, rubbing lightly.  He squirmed a little under Spike and then settled again, sighing happily.  Love feeling you on me...in me...owning me...

Don't own you, pet.  You're your own.

You DO.  Own all of me.  I want it like that.  Love that you want me that much.

Always, love...  Spike kissed what he could reach of Xander's face and neck and shoulder - felt himself hardening again, as the love and want and yours mine always suffused him.  Oz and Derio were asleep down the hall, the faint night-time images the wolf sent - pack and den and completeness - only added to the vampire's own sense of utter safety, utter happiness.

"Say me another, Spike..."  Xander murmured, his own desire rising, as his blood did.

"Mmmmmm..."  Spike thought for a moment - lifted himself up a little and started a slow, shallow thrusting, just teasing that sensitive spot, lightly brushing over it.  Xander shivered and arched into him.

"My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand...His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven...His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set...His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers...his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh...His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl...his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires...His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold...his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars...His mouth is most sweet...yea, he is altogether lovely...This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem..."

"This week sucked," Dawn said, slumping down in her chair and Tara absently patted her shoulder.

"Why'd it suck, Bit?" Spike asked, sitting up on the loft stairs in the Magic Box, smoking and watching Xander.

"Because!   Janice has some new boyfriend and she's spending all her time with him and he's a big dork.  And I don't get the lab we're doing in biology and Buffy is no help...  And that's another thing - Buffy is acting like a total freak."

"C'mon Dawn - can't be that bad," Xander said.

"Says you," Dawn muttered, rolling her eyes.  Xander ginned at her and flipped a page over in the book he was reading.   Some weird demon had robbed a bank and now they were looking for it, since bank robbing was apparently not common demon behavior.

How does anybody know that?  Maybe all the great bank robbers of history were really DEMONS - special bank-robbing demons.

Robbed a bank or two in my day, Spike mused, grinding out his cigarette on his boot heel and pocketing the butt.  Was fun.  Dru wanted a house and there wasn't anybody to kill for it.   He stood up and jumped down off the stairs - sauntered over to the counter where Anya was doing paperwork.  The shop was closed for the night and research was the theme of the evening.  Except for Willow and Giles, who were in the training room having another discussion/argument about magic, and Buffy, who was patrolling.  She did that a lot, these days.

Buffy's been kinda - weird, lately.  You notice?

Slayer's always weird, Spike thought, and Xander shot him a look.  But, yeah...she's been kinda...off.   It hadn't helped that the day after her resurrection some demon - a hitchhiker, Anya had said, that had ridden into their dimension inside Buffy - had tried to kill her.  And had possessed Dawn and Anya and Xander in the bargain.  Another reason for Spike to be pissed at Willow, and Xander was starting to wonder if they'd ever go back to being anything like friendly.  Now almost every encounter devolved into a sniping match, and Ethan Rayne was no help.  His sly or mocking or sarcastic commentary did nothing to smooth ruffled feathers, and his own struggle to regain control of his magic made him short-tempered.  And the aura of chaotic energy that constantly hung around the man set their whole pack on edge.  The man himself was sitting in the fourth chair around the lighted table, deeply engrossed in something.  Xander had the feeling it wasn't demon research, but at least he wasn't stirring everybody up.  Xander reluctantly liked Ethan - admired his tenacity - but his ability to cause, well, chaos was too good by far.

Only been a month since she came back.  Can't expect everything to be all hearts and puppies, Spike thought, and idly peered into a plastic bag lying on the counter.  Anya slapped his hand, snatching the bag away.

"Oi!  What was that for?"

"This is private, Spike.  So hands off!"  Anya glared at him and Spike smirked, and Xander heard the mental note to look in the bag as soon as possible.  Anya shoved the bag away into a drawer and slammed it shut - went back to her accounting.  Xander wished fleetingly that Oz were there - his calm always seemed to affect everyone around him - but he was helping Derio and his bandmates at a show down in Oxnard and wouldn't be back until the next day.

"Christ, found anything yet, ducks?   I'm 'bout to go to sleep on my feet -" Spike leaned over Tara, peering at the book she was looking through, and Tara shook her head.

"Nothing.  This book is a bust."  She closed it and pushed it aside - looked over at Dawn.  "C'mon Dawnie, get out your biology book and I'll help you figure it out, okay?  All these demons are giving me a headache."  Dawn grinned and sat up, rooting through her backpack and Spike circled the table, eyes on Xander.

Don't, Spike.  Really.  Really!   Spike just smirked, shifting from 'walk' to 'panther stalk' effortlessly, letting go a flood of X-rated images to the link.  Xander closed his eyes and dropped his head onto the books in front of him.  No, no, NO!  Dawn is here.  And Tara.  And Anya will make remarks about threesomes.  And DAWN is here!  And...and...there's already people in the training room, Spike!

Training.  I like that word.  'Member what you were thinking about?  Cats and...collars... and...leashes...    Xander groaned a little, putting his fists over his ears in a vain attempt to block out the silken voice in his head.  Impossible, of course.  Spike slunk up behind him and leaned on the back of his chair.  A moment later his cool fingertips were lightly tracing over Xander's neck.  He took the elastic out of Xander's hair, fanning it out and smoothing the ends that came to the tops of his shoulder-blades.  His fingers stroked up under the hair - circled Xander's throat and held him lightly, thumbs caressing up and down his spine.

Just there, pet.  Something...a little wide.  You've the build for it.  Dark green maybe.  Or dark brown...

Spike, for fuck's sake...

Don't you wanna, pet?  Wear my collar, kneel at my feet...   Xander shuddered at the images in the link - fought back with a few of his own.

How about YOU?  You're the one that purrs...I think YOU should...

We can do both, love...   Spike leaned over further and nibbled on the curve of Xander's spine where it showed above the collar of his work shirt.  His nails scraped lightly over the claim scar and Xander shivered violently.

"Spiike - fuckin' hell -" Xander moaned.  He couldn't help it.

"Do you two need to go up on the roof?  Because I'm not really in the mood for sexual shenanigans right now," Anya said, and Spike hissed in dissatisfaction as Xander sat up and pulled his hands down off his neck - held them tightly in his own, crossed over his chest and trying to ignore the sniggering coming from Dawn.  He shot her a look of disapproval and she raised an eyebrow at him, fondness and laughter in the link.

Thank fucking god her link is one way.

"No.  Not going on the roof.  We're - uh - I think we need to go see how Buffy's doing on patrol."

"Buffy's right here, Xander," Tara said, tilting her head a little and it was true, Buffy had just come in the back door and was standing by the training room door, head cocked, listening.  "Maybe you do need to go up on the roof."  Tara's voice was mild but the glint in her eye was wicked and Xander closed his in utter frustration.  It didn't help that Ethan had apparently picked up on what was going on and was laughing quietly over his book.

Spike...Spike...I love you and I want you but for fuck's sake can we NOT have...shenanigans in front of everybody?

That's the fun of it, pet - see how far we can get-

You'd go all the way right here if I let you.

"Xander!  I'm shocked.  Not in front of the Bit!"

"Wha'?  No way I said that out loud -"   Xander looked up at Spike, who was grinning down at him.  He reached and whapped half-heartedly at Spike's bicep.

"Stop it, evil undead."  Spike just smirked at him, showing fangs.

"Do I even want to know...anything?" Buffy said tiredly, coming over and dropping down onto the stairs.  There were grass stains on her knee and thigh, and a scuff of grave-dirt on her chin.

"I very much doubt it," Ethan said, looking over at her with a small smile.  "But if you like I can summarize.  School, research, nerves, sex," he said, pointing at Dawn, Tara, Anya and Spike and Xander in turn.  Buffy wrinkled her nose a little.  She was gradually coming around to the idea of Ethan being a part of the group - of him being important to Giles.  She didn't like it, but she wasn't actively causing trouble over it, which had frankly surprised Xander.

Too tired, maybe.  She always looks tired.

It's tiring, being resurrected.   Spike fingers were wiggling in Xander's grasp but he held on resolutely.

"Well, I can't help with school, I'm too tired to research, I have no idea what Anya has to be worried about since she's rolling in the green stuff, and please don't tell me one single thing about the sex 'cause...  I'm actually just too tired."  Buffy was slumped on the stairs, her hands limp between her knees, and her voice flat.  She looked exhausted and depressed and Xander couldn't help but frown.

"I've got the school thing, if th-that's okay, Buffy," Tara said softly, and Buffy looked up at her and gave a wan sort of smile.

"Sure, Tara.  It'd be nice if one of us was actually learning something."  Buffy had had to miss Fall classes at UCS - the deadline for signing up had come and gone while she was in the ground - and she'd taken it hard.  Plus, the insurance money from Joyce's dying had suffered a severe dent from hospitals bills, and what was left was being nibbled away rather quickly by day-to-day stuff.  Mr. Summers' child-support was generous but Buffy insisted that half went into a college fund for Dawn - just like her mother - and there just wasn't much left over.  Tara was on student grants and loans and had even less to spare, and Willow was currently struggling with her parents long-distance to increase her living allowance.  They were paying all her expenses through school, but had assumed she'd be in the dorms and not in a four-person household.  They were being, as Willow said, real schmucks.

Another thing that's really bugging her...  Wish there was something...

No wishes, love.  She'll be all right.

Easy for you to say.   Xander still wasn't completely happy about Spike bringing home - whatever he found, really.  Two days after the Hellions had come through he'd retrieved his pillowcase full of stolen goods and later had shoved a wad of cash big enough to choke a horse into the 'petty cash' jar.  

'Course it is, love.  You take some of that and give it to the Slayer if it makes you feel better.  But you KNOW she won't like it.  Probably won't even take it.   Xander sighed, watching Buffy poke half-heartedly at the mud on the side of her boot with a stake.  Spike was right.  He just wished that he could do something for Buffy.

Oh.  I can, actually.  Spike?   Spike took a moment, examining the suggestion Xander had put in the link.  

Why not, love?  Can't hurt.   Xander lifted Spike's hands - kissed the knuckles and the long fingers.  

Love you...   He took a long breath and looked over at Buffy.   "Taisbean," whispered so softly.  Tara and Dawn didn't notice, Anya was intent on her paperwork and Buffy on her shoes.  But Ethan's head came up sharply and he stared at Xander, frowning.

"What are you up to, boy?" he murmured, and Xander felt Spike stiffen.

"Quiet, mage," Spike growled, and Ethan flicked a glance up at him but subsided, watching Xander.  Xander did his best to ignore the swirling mass of color and sparks and disturbance that was Ethan in the sight - he had no wish to see the Chaos mage's soul.  Instead he looked at Buffy.

At first glance, she seemed the same, with the endless shifting of past Slayers obscuring and then revealing her own features.  But the Slayers were different this time.  Instead of being alert - on guard, almost - they were passive.  Many had their eyes closed and they all seemed lost - sad.  Buffy's own soul was as white as always, but there was a strangeness about it.  There was a mark on the soul's forehead and it shone like a star.  And there was something else...a sort of ribbon, or line that came out of the center of Buffy's chest and twisted away into the air, thinning and vanishing a few feet away.  It seemed like...

Like a tether?  A...line?  Is that - Spike, look -  Xander put the image in the link and he felt Spike go very still - felt the vampire's fingers clamp down a little on his.  Buffy got up, saying something to Dawn, and the tether shifted with her, as if she were attached to some invisible thing.  It pulsed softly - pale and starry, and while Xander didn't feel anything particularly evil about it, it still didn't feel right.  

And Buffy - did not feel right.  The love was still there, for Dawn and for Giles - for all of them - but...  Buffy was tired - tired at heart, weary to her soul.  Sick of killing, sick of struggling, longing with everything in her to be...

Oh god.  Spike, does she -

Seems, pet.  Seems she does.  Red...really fucked up.   For once, Xander had to agree.  Buffy was wishing that she was dead.

"This is going to cost a fortune," Buffy said glumly, looking down into the watery depths of her flooded basement.

"Well, maybe not a fortune -" Xander started, and Buffy rolled her eyes at him.  "Hey, I know some people who know some people...well, demons.   I can get you a good deal."    A demon corpse floated by like an overturned toy boat, bumping sadly against the stairs.  Buffy stared down at it.  

"Plus, I have to get rid of that...thing."

"Oh, I'll haul it into the sewers, pet, be gone in a day or so, no worries," Spike said, clumping down to the waterline and looking speculatively at the corpse.  He reached out with his toe and poked it, and the body shifted and started to float away.

"Grab it, quick!  There's no way I'm gonna wade through that mess to get it!" Buffy said urgently, and Spike sighed and put his foot onto the next step down - hauled the demon in by one horn.  It lay across the steps and dripped, and they all stared gloomily at it.

"Nasty thing.  Smells like a dog's bed.  What the hell is it again?"

"I dunno.  Dawn kept saying something about 'Mmm, cookies', and I could never figure out the actual name."  Xander turned and went up the stairs and after a moment Buffy and Spike followed.  They all sat around the kitchen island and Buffy made a face and pushed a pile of papers aside.

"God, I need a job.  There's too many bills and now - the Cookie demon smashes half my pipes."  Xander and Spike glanced at each other and Spike nodded, so Xander plunged in.

"Buffy, listen - I think I can help on the job thing.   Manny said he'd be happy to take you on at the site.  It wouldn't be anything - well, it'd just be lift-and-carry kind of stuff, you know.  But it starts at twelve bucks an hour."  Buffy looked at him, frowning.

"Manny is the demon you work for, right?" she said, and there was a slight edge to her voice.

"Yeeah...  But he's the demon who kept your being - dead a secret and - he really helped me out with the house and everything.  Not all demons are bad, Buffy.  And if you worked with them you could kind of - show that the Slayer's not out to just - kill them all."  Buffy looked thoughtful at that - sighed and put her chin on her hand, staring at the counter-top.  "Besides," Xander added, looking at the pile of applications Buffy had shoved aside, "anything beats working at the Doublemeat."  Buffy made a face but nodded, then went back to staring at the counter.

"Things were so much easier when I -"   She stopped abruptly and shook her head.

Gonna say something, pet?   Xander looked over at Spike, who had one eyebrow up, looking at him thoughtfully.

I...  Think I should?

Can't hurt.

You always say that.

Been right so far, Spike smirked at him, and Xander smiled back.  He turned back to Buffy and reached out - touched Buffy's hand.

"Buffy - what's wrong?  Can you tell us, please?  You just - you seem so...sad."  Buffy looked at him, her eyes very wide and very distant.  She put her hand on his and squeezed gently, but didn't say anything.

"Haven't been to hell lately, Slayer, but I know a thing or two about it," Spike said softly, and Buffy blinked and looked over at him.

"Hell.  Oh...yeah.  You know, Willow keeps talking about that.  About how I - I must be so happy to be...out of hell and back...here.  Back home.  But..."

"But what?  Please, Buff..."  Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, and then she looked right at him, and he could see fear and longing, misery and resignation in her face.

"When I died...  I don't know much about the afterlife or...stuff like that.  But while I was dead, I was...happy.  I was warm, and comforted...everyone I loved was safe....  And I could just - rest.  I could just be.  I remember feeling - so peaceful.  Like when I was little and it would rain and I'd lie under the covers and know mom and dad were right down the hall..."  Her hand slipped away from Xander's and she lifted it to her face - touched her forehead, where Xander had seen the mark like a star.

"Someone kissed me.  I think - it was mom.  She kissed me and I knew everything was fine.  I could sleep, and dream...and it would all be okay, 'cause I was...done."  She looked at Xander again - looked over at Spike, and her eyes were wet and luminous with tears that didn't - wouldn't - fall.

"I think...  I wasn't in hell, and I wasn't being tortured.  I was happy.  I was - in heaven."

Heading home in Xander's truck, and Spike deliberately and thoroughly pushed visions of Willow wrapped in her own entrails out of his head.  The misery coming from Xander was too palpable - too much - and he wouldn't add to it for anything.  

But fucking hell.  She had better tread lightly 'round me.  She's just - gone too far.  Spike sat silently in the middle of the bench seat, shoulder and hip and knee pressed into Xander's, his hand on the human's thigh, feeling each shift of muscle as he drove.

Love you...   Family, Xander...we're family, we're safe and we're strong.  We'll - figure out something.  It'll be all right, love.  Spike had never thought he'd find himself thinking of ways to help the Slayer, but her misery was Xander's misery, unfortunately.

Heart like a great soft marshmallow.  Just wants to take and take and take, suck up all the bad.  You'll kill yourself, love - there's too much bad in the world.

Can't leave her like that.  Can’t ignore it, Spike.  She's hurting so bad...  I don't know - what to do.  Should we tell Giles, do you think?

Dunno, pet.  Maybe think on it.  Talk to the wolf.  He always has a good idea.

Yeah.  Fuck, I just...   Xander sighed, and Spike knew what he 'just'.  He just wanted to be with his family - with Spike. He just wanted to hold and be held and be told that everything would be fine.  A great fat lie, but that was all right.  Spike had 120 or more years of lying under his belt, and he could do it as easy as that.  And he could start right now.  He turned his head and kissed Xander's cheek - his temple and the faint cross-hatch of lines that fanned out from his eye - legacy of days spent in the sun.

It'll be fine, love, just fine.  Nothing we can't fix if we put our minds to it.  I promise, pet.

Promise?

Cross my heart, love,

And hope to die.

And hope to die.



_______________________



W.H. Auden - What's in Your Mind, my Dove, my Coney and Miranda's Song

Chapter five - Song of Solomon

8 Date

Spike looked down at his cards.  

Fuckin' full house!  This is definitely my night!   He knew his face had kept its bland, slightly bored expression perfectly.  He folded the cards up and laid them on the table - poured a drink and got a smoke and eyed the other players.  On his left was a vampire who'd won on and off half the night and was currently 'off' and sweating (metaphorical) blood.  Spike recognized the tell-tale signs of debt panic and had been milking it for hours.  A furry sort of demon that Spike had only encountered long enough to kill, in the past, and who was currently looking at Spike with beady, suspicious eyes sat across from him, huge and hulking and drinking Mai Tai's.   And Clem, of course, who just couldn't seem to stop playing even when he had the worst hand possible.   Spike took another drink and picked his cards up again - fanned them.

"Right then.  I suppose...I'll see you and raise..." he reached into the basket by his side and counted by feel.  "Raise you ten."  The furry demon clicked to itself and the vamp sucked in a nervous breath.  Clem just slumped a little, looking sad.

Jesus.  None of these wankers can keep a straight face. Spike took a long puff on his smoke and glanced over as the door to the main barroom opened and Willy scuttled through.  There was the sound of shouting and glass being broken, abruptly cut off by the slamming door.

"Hey, guys, hey, Spike," Willy said, and stood there for a moment, shuffling nervously from foot to foot.

"Willy," Clem said, and Spike nodded to the man.

"Well, mate, you gonna raise or call?" Spike asked the vamp.  The vamp looked at his cards and seemed to be doing some sort of mental calculation.

"Hey, Spike -" Willy said, and Spike sighed.

"You already said that, mate.  You need something?"  Spike looked at Willy, one eyebrow up, and Willy swallowed and brushed at his shirt - looked over his shoulder when a muffled crash came through the door.

"Yeah, uh, there's - there's this little problem up front with - with -"

"Spit it out, man, for fuck's sake," Spike growled, and Willy held his hands up in a 'don't hurt me' gesture.  

"There's a little problem up front with your - friend."  Spike gave Willy a blank look as the man waggled his eyebrows and did some sort of hand-gesture, a sort of up and down motion that meant he was either gonna jerk off right there or -

Oh Christ.  The SLAYER?  Does he mean -   "Are you talkin' about a...small, blonde problem?" Spike asked slowly, and Willy grinned in relief, wincing when something smashed into the door.

"Yeah!   That's the one!  That's the problem."  Willy looked pleadingly at Spike, and Spike sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling.

Damn Slayer.  She was no trouble when she was dead.   "All right.  Let me just finish here -" Spike lifted his cards just a little, indicating the table and Willy looked at them - blinked and pursed his lips in a low whistle.

"Wow!" he said, and Spike briefly closed his eyes.  

Bloody bastard just gave away my hand.   He deliberately let the demon come to the fore and opened his eyes.  Willy's own eyes went wide and he paled.  

"I mean - yeah, you - you finish that up then, Spike, and I'll just -"   Willy shuffled away from Spike's murderous glare and the rest of the table folded practically simultaneously.  Spike threw down his cards and grabbed his winnings, stuffing them into the basket he'd brought.  He shoved cigarettes and lighter into a pocket, grabbed his bottle and stomped out of the back room.

"What in bloody hell were you thinking, Slayer?" Spike snapped, leading Buffy away from Willy's by one arm.  Buffy yanked her arm free - reeled a little - and Spike grabbed her again.

"You just shut up, Spike!  I was - I was just - letting off some steam, and - having a drink!"

"You're drunk, Slayer!  You beat up half the bar!  You broke Willy's Elvis mirror!  Bloody git loved that mirror!  I'll be hearin' about it for weeks!"  Spike whacked the side of his basket with the bottle and the high-pitched meows that were coming from it subsided.  Buffy's eyes went wide, and she leaned towards Spike, staring at the basket.

"Are there kittens in there?  You have a basket full of kittens?"

"Was playin' poker, wasn't I?  It's the currency 'round here, for certain sets."  Spike irritably got out a cigarette and lit it - looked hard at the wobbling Slayer who was still staring at the basket.

"Listen, ducks, what were you really doin' down here?  It's not like you, the drinkin' and the fightin'...  Well, not the drinkin', anyway.  What's up?"  Buffy looked up at him and blinked, then abruptly pulled away and took a few steps down the street.

"I just - I feel like I'm...lost, Spike.  I went with Willow the other day, to audit some classes?  And I didn't understand anything!  And - something weird happened.  It was like - time was all messed up, and - and I was at the shop and it happened again only it was this crazy loop-de-loop thing that - and - at work -"  Buffy sniffed and wiped her eyes, and Spike came up beside her, putting the basked of kittens down between his feet.

"I know, Slayer - Xander told me.  Seems like you've got some enemies, yeah?  Somebody messin' with you."

"It's just too much!"  Buffy kicked at an empty beer bottle, sending it rolling wildly down the street.  It crashed into the wheel of a large, black van and Buffy suddenly went still.

"That van. I've seen that van.  It was at the site.  And - and outside the Magic Box.  That van - is stalking me."  Buffy moved, breaking into a trot and Spike cursed and darted after her, losing the bottle in the process.  It smashed wetly and he cursed again.   He could see someone - male - behind the wheel, frantically starting the engine and then trying to put the van in gear.  There was a grinding noise as he flubbed it and Buffy was at the door, yelling and pounding on the side panel.

"What are you doing!  Why are you stalking me!"  Buffy yelled, and Spike snarled and reached past her, grabbing the boy by his shirt-front and yanking him half out the window.

"Speak up, you bastard, what the hell -"   Recognition flooded the wide-eyed face of the driver and hit Spike at the same moment.  Warren, who'd made the Buffybot and who'd escaped Glory's penthouse, never to be seen again.

"You," Spike snarled, and the boy jerked frantically at his shirt, popping a button.

"Johnathan!" he yelled, and there was a scurrying tumble in the back.   Spike strained up on tiptoe and caught a glimpse of two more figures - blond hair and a pale face - and then there was a low sort of chanting and the whump of displaced air.  Buffy, who had been fairly successfully bending the door right out of the frame suddenly reeled back as a large, scaly demon slithered down from the top of the van right onto her.    She went down with a yelp and Spike let the boy go to grab a double handful of dry, horny hide and try to sling the demon away.  It whipped its head up, snarling, and lunged for his face and Spike stumbled back.  Buffy was struggling upright and she leapt onto its back, gouging with a stake.  The van's engine revved and then it peeled out, leaving smoking tire-marks on the asphalt.  A moment later Spike was snapping the demon's neck just as Buffy got her stake through its hide and the demon collapsed, dying twitches making it roll towards the gutter.  Spike kicked it, hard, and looked in fury after the van.

"That bastard.  That little fuck -"

"Who was that?  Did you know him?"  Buffy was looking in disgust at her jacket, which had demon slobber on it, and Spike grimaced and reached into his duster for his flask.  He took a long drink and offered it to the Slayer, who wrinkled her nose, refusing.

"Yeah, I knew him.  It was that little wanker that made the 'bot.  Warren.  Wondered where he got to.  Guess he's the one followin' you, Slayer.  And there were two others.  He said 'Johnathan', and there was some blonde kid."  Spike drained his flask and put it away - walked over to his kitten basket and picked it up.

"Well, at least I know who's been playing all those - stupid tricks on me."  Buffy finally put her stake back in her sleeve and stumbled over to the curb - sank down with her elbows on her knees and her head hanging down.   "Spike?  Are you guys gonna - are you gonna tell Giles?  What - I said about - being dead?"  Her voice was shaky and small and Spike sighed - sat down next to her.

"You're just - making' Xan and everybody nervous, Slayer.  You're not actin' -"

"Like somebody who's been 'rescued' from hell?  I can't help it, Spike."   Buffy looked up at him, and tears were making her makeup run, painting dark circles under her eyes and emphasizing the pallor and thinness that hadn't passed since her resurrection.   "Everything here is so - hard, and cold and...violent.  I was - glad to be done.  Done being the Slayer.  I was glad to be gone...  And trying to be - normal...trying to be...happy...  It's just so hard."  Buffy wiped her eyes - sniffed, tipping her head back to look up at the hazy sky.

"And it seems like, the harder I try, the harder it is, and just getting up - just...living...is exhausting.  I don't - don't think I can -"

"Now, Slayer," Spike interrupted, and she caught her breath in a sob and looked away, fighting for control.  "I know it's hard, pet.  I can't imagine - what you're feeling.  But the Bit needs you, Slayer.  Even if you give up on everything else, she needs you.  You should - tell 'em, Slayer.  Tell 'em what Red did, and what's wrong.  Maybe your Watcher can help.  Or Glinda.  They'd want to, you know."  Buffy pushed her hands back through her hair - just sat there for a minute, her fingers squeezing her skull and her eyes wide and staring.

"I don't think I can, Spike.  They'll look at me....they'll pity me, and...  I can't - let them all down."

"Not about them, Slayer," Spike said softly, and they sat in silence for a long moment.

"Just - don't tell Giles, okay?" Buffy said finally, looking over at Spike.  "Let me - let me do it.  I owe him that."

"Sure, pet.  If that's what you want."  Buffy smiled weakly at him and went back to contemplating her shoes - or maybe the gutter, Spike couldn't be sure.  He sighed and leaned back on his hands, looking at the thin curve of the new moon, idly finding Oz in the link, and Xander.  Oz was just a low hum, contentment and lust and Spike knew he was with Derio.  Xander was home, reading in bed and half asleep, tired from his week's work.

Be there in a bit, love, Spike thought softly, and Xander sent back the mental equivalent of a hug and kiss; warm, gentle caress all through Spike's soul and he grinned into the night, shivering with pleasure.

"How did you know, anyway?  You and Xander?"  Buffy said, and Spike blinked - looked over at her.

"Xan saw it.  Used that gift, you know - saw your soul.  He could feel what you were feeling.  Could feel that death-wish all twisting up around you."  Buffy shook her head slowly, and looked back down.

"It's not - I don't...  Damn it, maybe I do.  I don't know!  I'm just...so tired..."

"Plenty of people to help you, Slayer.  All you have to do is ask.  You know that, don't you?"  Spike had to smile at the small face she made then, looking over at him and almost laughing.

"You're supposed to hand me that totally illegal razor you keep in your pocket and tell me the best place to open up a vein, Spike.  You're not supposed to be all - 1-800-Life-Is-Great!"  Buffy grinned, sniffing, and Spike grinned back.

"I wouldn't let you do that, Slayer - there are much better ways to go," Spike said, and flashed his fangs at her, leering.  Buffy choked on a laugh, snorting, and for a moment they just laughed together.  Then Spike pulled out a smoke and lit it, and Buffy sighed and wiped her eyes again.

"Xan would hate it if you did that, Slayer.  They all would.  And I won't let anything hurt my boy if I can help it.  Or the Niblet, either.  So best buck up.  Go tell your Watcher and let him help, yeah?  I can't keep Xander from tellin' him for too much longer."  They'd had that argument, and Spike had finally convinced Xander to let Buffy have a little more time, but Xander was worried, and fretting, and Oz too, so Spike figured he could help them by pushing the Slayer a little in the direction they wanted her to go.

"You...really love him.  I mean - more than...  You just...love him."

"Everything to me, Slayer.  All," Spike murmured, looking straight at her.  Buffy nodded and then a funny look came over her face and Spike raised an eyebrow.

Jesus - is she gonna cry again?   "You all right, Slayer?"

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Buffy said, and Spike immediately scooted a couple feet away, tucking his duster protectively behind him.

"You go right ahead then, better out than in," Spike said, and Buffy did.

"Xander!  We need more mandrake root!" Anya yelled over the music and the crowd-noise, and executed a tight little spin around him on her roller skates.  He stared, fascinated, and she spun around and rolled away, graceful and...

Damn hot in those shorts.  Where'd she learn to skate like that?

Been practicing all week, Oz thought, sending a picture of Anya on her ass in the middle of the Magic Box, skates flailing.  Xander choked back a laugh and pushed his way through the crowd, heading for the basement and mandrake root.  They'd all agreed to help Anya with her big Halloween sale, and she had them all hopping like good little bunnies.  He was pretty sure the door-bell hadn't stopped jangling all evening.

Only no bunnies allowed.  Heh.  Should have dressed like a bunny,  Xander thought, sighing with relief as he opened the door to the basement steps.  He pulled his pirate eye patch off and went down.  The damn thing was giving him a headache.  It eliminated his depth perception and he'd tripped on the stairs in the shop proper a half-dozen times already.  He so did not want to take a header down the steep basement steps.

Told you, pet, faintly from Spike, and Xander stuck out a mental tongue.  Spike had opted out of helping - using his 'No self-respecting Child of the Night is out on this night' card.  Which Anya totally understood, which was unfair.  Xander had tried to argue that, as the husband - or whatever - of the evil undead he should be exempt as well, but Anya had just given him that look.  The one that said 'I wasn't the best Vengeance Demon for 1000 years for nothing, bucko', and Xander had caved.  He'd left Spike on the couch, curled up in his oldest jeans and t-shirt and one of Xander's flannels, a copy of 'Woe to Live On' propped on his knees, the big bowl of Halloween candy and his bottle of Jack beside him.  The couch was already littered with mini Hershey and Crunch wrappers and Xander had poked the vampire with his plastic pirate sword.

"Don't eat all the candy, Spike!  There's gonna be tons of kids out here."

"Sod 'em.  Little buggers can go begging elsewhere," Spike had grumbled, reaching out and snagging a Pixie Stix.

"No, no, no.  You can't NOT give them candy - they'll TP the house!" Spike tipped his head up, pouring pale pink sugar-dust down his throat.

"I'll just show 'em my real face, then they'll leave me be."  

"No, they'll say it's the worst mask they've ever seen and throw eggs at the DeSoto.  Hellmouth kids are tough!  Just - leave SOME for the kids, okay?"  Spike's eyes had gleamed gold at the mention of the DeSoto and he'd looked enraged and then disgruntled.

"Why don't you just stay, love?  Demon-girl doesn't need EVERYBODY -"

"Can't do it, Spike," Xander said, gleeful now at the prospect of Spike stuck opening the door to hordes of sugar-hyped seven-year-olds all night.  "She'll do something nasty to my manly parts if I don't show up.  You know how she is."  Spike snarled a little but he nodded, defeated, and Xander leaned down and kissed him, chocolate and tart dust, cream and whiskey.   A heady combination.

"You be good and don't scare anybody and I'll let you teach me a new trick tonight, hrmmm?" he murmured, and Spike yanked him close for a hard, sharp-toothed kiss and Xander had driven to the Magic Box with his lips tingling and his groin throbbing, willing the night to pass quickly.

"Arrrgh!  Mandrake root for the bonny buxom lassie!" Xander passed the root to Willow, who took it with a distracted, smiling 'thanks', Scotch tape fluttering from her fingers and her 'Dorothy' braids looking a little frazzled.  Xander grinned and went off to stop a small Harry Potter from climbing a bookshelf and laughed at Oz, who was being harried by another Harry Potter and a fairy princess, both of whom were trying to out-do each other in the wand-waving department.  Dawn was behind the counter as well, decidedly not in costume, doing her best to wrap purchases in the fancy way Anya insisted on.  Giles was earnestly trying to convince a trio of older granola-and-hairy-legs kind of woman that yes, datura was a sacred plant in certain circles but they really did not want to make datura-brownies for their monthly moon-sabbat.  The women seemed determined and Giles was looking a bit panicky.

"Hey, Giles, can I help you?" Xander asked, waving his sword, and for a moment it looked as if the older man might just ask Xander to make the women walk the plank.

"Yes, yes you can - please get Tara for me, would you?  Perhaps she can talk some - explain."  Giles glared at the women and stepped closer, catching Xander's arm.  "Do you think it would be terrible of me to just let them have their datura?  It's not certain they'll die a horrible death," he muttered and Xander stifled the hysterical laughter that threatened.

"You know - maybe I'll just take these ladies on over to Tara right now.  Why don't you take a break, Giles?" Xander couldn't help grinning and Giles smiled reluctantly back.  

"There are just so many of them!" he said, and Xander nodded and patted Giles' shoulder.

"Giles.  Stay British.  You'll be okay.  Now - ladies!  Let me take you over to our resident witch, she has all the answers."  Xander herded the ladies over to the cloth-draped table where Tara was doing the occasional Tarot reading and answering questions dressed in a 'traditional' gypsy headscarf and voluminous skirts.    The ladies squealed and descended on her, chattering.  Tara mock-glared at him and he darted away.  

"This is nuts," Buffy said, using Slayer strength to separate a Jason and a Freddy who seemed intent upon eviscerating each other.    She was wearing a Xena costume and Xander poked her in the armor.

"Yeah - but at least it's just plain human nuts and not, you know - Hellmouth nuts," Xander said.  Buffy rolled her eyes.

"I'm not sure it's any better.  I can't actually slay any of the customers.   Stop that!"  Buffy darted after a miniature witch in a fluffy tulle costume who was trailing dried frogs from a torn-open box.  The door-bell jangled again and Xander glanced up to see Dawn's friend come in.

"Hey, Janice!"

"Hey, Cap'n Hook."  Janice grinned and waved at Dawn who shoved a wad of glittery tissue paper into Anya's arms and scurried out from behind the counter.

"At last!  I thought I was gonna go crazy if I had to wrap one more idol.  Let's get out of here!"

"Where are you going?" Buffy demanded, popping up from gathering dried frogs and Dawn made a 'duh' face.

"To Janice's house?  I told you about this last week.  We're gonna hit the shops downtown for candy and then I'm spending the night.  Remember?"

"That's tonight?"

"No - that's the other Halloween, the one that happens in June.  C'mon, Buffy, you said yes already!"

"But I don't remember saying yes!  That can't count."  Dawn started to frown and Janice was looking a little desperate and Buffy finally sighed, shaking her head.  "Right, fine.  It's Halloween, nothing's going on - you guys go straight home, all right?  No - loitering around in cemeteries or anything."

"Ewww - as if," Janice said, making a face, and Dawn gave Buffy a quick hug, wincing a little when the costume's buckles dug into her ribs.

"Ow!  That costume is hazardous," Dawn said, and Buffy took up a stance, fists on hips and chin at a haughty angle.

"No more hazardous than my mighty cleavage!" she crowed, and Dawn broke down into snarfling laughter.  There was a running joke about 'the cleavage' that Xander wasn't privy to, but he'd caught muttered comments about duct tape and industrial strength glue, and decided he didn't want to know.  The costume did show off quite a bit of...Buffy.

SO not going there.  Oz, please, distract me,  Xander thought, watching Dawn and Janice hurry out the door.  

Spike in a Xena costume?   Oz was sitting on the top step of the stairs to the loft and Xander looked up at him, giggling.

Oh god.  Distracted now.   How's it going?

Pretty good.  He's staying nicely grounded.   After some discussion with Derio and then with Spike and Xander, Oz had volunteered to teach Ethan what he'd learned in Tibet.  He figured if it could control the wolf then it might help the mage get his magic back under control.  It seemed to be working, to an extent, but Ethan had suffered real damage at the hands of the Initiative and no matter what he learned from Oz his control wouldn't be complete until he was fully healed.  Neither Giles nor Ethan knew when that might be, but the reduction in random magics - and the lessening of the out-of-control energy that had poured off the man for the first few weeks -was a relief to everyone.  

Ethan seemed to have taken a liking to Oz, and at the moment he was sitting cross-legged up in the loft, meditating.  Oz had thought the distractions of the shop would be a good test and had stayed close to him most of the night.

That's great, Oz.  I don't think I could do that, in all this...chaos.

I think the chaos helps.  It's his - baseline, I guess.  He gets power from it.  Only now he's controlling the chaos, if that makes sense.

Sure - like...a band.  The crowd's all crazy and wild but if the band plays the right song they can calm everybody down - have 'em all swaying and holding their lighters in the air. Or have 'em riot.   Oz grinned at him, his green eyes sparkling out from under the afro wig he was wearing.  He'd come as Jimi Hendrix and Ethan and Giles had both made him sing 'All Along the Watchtower'.

Exactly, Oz thought.  Xander turned from the stairs and surveyed the shop.  Children milled and darted, fueled by the huge plastic pumpkin full of candy Anya had reluctantly provided.  Parents and other adults were busily stripping the shelves in a show of holiday greed.  Anya's fingers flew over the register keys and Xander noticed something sparkly on her left hand.

Wonder if that's the 'big announcement', he thought.  Anya had declared that they all had to stay until closing because she wanted to tell them something important - she'd even offered to order pizza and Xander knew there was a cooler full of soda in the training room.  

Nearly done here, he thought at Spike, and received a blast of relief and irritation from the vampire.

Little bastards won't stop coming!  THIS is why we hide out on Halloween - this is a bloody nightmare! Spike complained, and Xander did a little jig over towards the 'Sumerian Mythologies' section of books where an elderly woman and a college age man seemed to be having a tug-of-war.

Only on the Hellmouth, Xander thought.

"Oh. My. God."  Buffy shut the shop door and locked it - flipped the sign over to 'closed'.  "That was...just..."

"Incredible!  Absolutely incredible!"  Anya was still at her register, surrounded by piles of receipts, checks, charge slips and cash.  She was practically dancing, and after a moment she did dance.  "You guys are the best!  I mean - look at all this money I made!"  Giles coughed loudly and Anya paused in her hip-swivels.

"We made, of course.  Isn't it wonderful, Giles?"

"Delightful.  What are you doing?"  Giles was slumped at the bottom of the loft steps with Ethan a step up behind him, rubbing his shoulders.

"It's my dance of Capitalist Superiority!  C'mon, join in!"  Anya picked up some bills and fanned them - flourished them above her head."

"Ah - well, no, thank you.  I'm a bit -"

"Exhausted?" Buffy said, flopping down on the other steps and tugging at her Xena skirt.  Tara sat down next to her and Buffy pulled a length of gypsy skirt over her legs.  "Jeez, how did she do anything in this?" Buffy muttered.

"Well actually, you've worn...much more appropriate stuff on patrol.  Yeah, exhausted," Xander held up his hands to ward off the death-glare Buffy was directing at him and Tara giggled.

"I can't believe there are that many people in Sunnydale into the occult!  It's amazing we don't have more wacky stuff happening."   Willow looked up from examining her stuffed Toto.  Someone had stuck a half-sucked lollipop to its head and she frowned, tugging at it.

"Now if you guys'll just get cleaning -" Anya said, handing a broom to Willow and dustpan to Oz, "I'll order pizza."

"Hey, why don't I just do a little cleaning spell?  Like Mickey in Fantasia?"  Willow sat up excitedly and Giles made a face behind her.

"Yes, we all know how well that worked out.  How about we do it the old-fashioned way?"  Giles hoisted himself to his feet, groaning, and Ethan stood up as well.

"Come on, old man, sit back down. I haven't done a thing all night," Ethan said softly, and Giles smiled at him.

"It'll go quicker with all of us pitching in," he said, but dropped a quick kiss on Ethan's cheek.  They both moved over to the counter and started gathering up tissue paper and bags and Willow stood up, wielding her broom.

"I'd like to think I'm a little more competent than a cartoon mouse," she grumbled, and Tara patted her arm as she walked by.

"Sure you are, honey.  You've even got all your fingers, so no giant white gloves to over-compensate,"

"Which really, thank god, 'cause the big white hands give me the creeps."  Oz followed Willow and Xander pushed away from the bookshelf he'd been leaning on and started gathering stray books into a pile.

It took almost forty minutes to get the shop back into shape - for the Post-Holiday Clearance Sale! Anya announced happily.  She was met by a chorus of groans and Xander started babbling something about a post-Halloween blood ritual that he and Spike had to perform.  

"Or we both die!  A horrible, painful, messy death!" Anya just glared at him and Xander slumped in resignation.  She went over to the loft steps and climbed up a couple - turned, facing them where they sprawled on the floor or sat at the table amidst a litter of pizza boxes and soda cans.

"Everyone!  I have an announcement to make.  You all remember Drake, my boyfriend?"  They all nodded, and Anya looked thoughtful.  "Well, maybe you don't, Buffy, I mean you were dead for almost five months -"

"Drake.  Tall guy, brown hair, glasses.  I met him last week, Anya."  Buffy looked a little peeved, and Anya nodded.

"Okay, so.  Drake.  He asked me to marry him and I -"

"He did?  Wow!  Anya, that's great -!"

"Oh, c-congratulations, Anya!"

"Marry.  Really?  That's - that's -"   Willow, Tara and Giles all spoke at once while Buffy just stared in shock.  Oz and Xander exchanged eye-rolls and Ethan surreptitiously grabbed the last slice of anchovy-mushroom off Giles' plate.

"Well, I said I'd have to think about it, of course.  I mean, you don't just leap into something like that!  I had to talk to a couple of ex-girlfriends, and look over his retirement plan first.  Things like that are very important.  But yesterday morning, after we had our wake-up sex, I told him yes!"  Anya beamed, looking expectant, and after a moment to catch up, everyone started the congratulations over again.  Anya came down the stairs, holding her hand up and showing off her ring and Buffy, Willow and Tara bounced up to squeal over it, hugging the ex-demon.  

Jesus.  Do you think we'll have to be...IN the wedding?   Xander had a sudden, horrible vision of a cousins' wedding years ago when he'd been tapped to be an usher.  The drunkenness, bickering, last-minute hysteria and mind-melting orange bridesmaid's dresses had made a vivid impression.

Scarred me for life.

Maybe she'll just want us to play for free?  We can hide backstage most of the night.   Oz had no better memories of family weddings, except his usually involved distant aunts and half-remembered second cousins pinching his cheeks and asking his mom when he was going to get his growth spurt.

God, that's awful.  Maybe she'll elope.

Nothing wrong with weddings, Spike chimed in.  Free food, free drinks, hordes of desperate, unmarried girls panting to dance with you and go for a snog in the broom cupboard.  Me an' Dru had brilliant times at weddings.

But everyone is supposed to survive this one,  Xander thought, and he and Oz laughed quietly together, picturing Spike facing down a half-drunk Harris or a 'concerned' Osbourne.  

"Oh, we should party!"  Willow was saying, and waved her hand.   Suddenly bright paper lanterns and streamers appeared around the shop, a little glitter of magical energy dancing in the wake of Willow's fingers.  Ethan flinched, looking sidelong at her, and Giles frowned while Anya clapped her hands.

"Oh!  Very nice!  This is only the first of the parties, too!  There's my bachelorette party to plan, and my wedding shower - I'm told there are lots of opportunities for presents at all these traditional functions!"

"Don't you think -" Tara said, and then bit her lip, turning away from Willow to pick up her soda and take a tiny sip.

"What is it, honey?" Willow asked, stroking her arm, and Tara turned back around.

"Willow, there's a party store j-just two blocks away.  We could have gone down there and bought some decorations.  You didn't need to do - this," Tara gestured around her and Willow smiled.

"Well, we could have gone down there, but this was quicker!  And - these are extra-good 'cause in a couple of hours, 'poof'!  Nothing to put in a landfill!"

"Yeah, but - magic shouldn't be used for...just anything.  For just everyday stuff."  Tara was frowning a little, and Willow's own smile faded a bit.

"I just wanted to make Anya happy, Tara - it's not like I conjured up a - a Mariachi band or something!  Although, I think I -"
   
"No!  Willow, you just - magic isn't for this!  It's -"

"It's not a toy, little witch, and it's not a dare.  Best listen to Jiminy Cricket."  Ethan was still looking uneasy and Giles' hand was on his shoulder, rubbing just a little.    Willow bristled at his words and shot a glare at him.

"You're one to talk.  All I'm doing is - harmless stuff!  Party balloons!  You made people die with your magic.  I'm not killing anybody!"

"Not yet," Ethan snapped, and Willow opened her mouth again to say something but stopped when Tara touched her hand.

"Honey, don't.  Please?  Let's...  I'm s-sorry, okay?  I just wanted you to - to think about what you're doing, is all,"

"Tara, I do-"   Willow was interrupted by the phone ringing, and Anya waved her hand in the air.

"Don't answer, we're closed!  Let's just look at these Bride magazines I've got."  She moved towards the counter and Buffy followed her.

"Better answer, Anya - it might be Dawn."  Anya sighed, but flapped her hand at the phone.

"Fine, go ahead.  But if it's a customer we do not do after hours deliveries.  Unless they want to pay triple."  Anya looked almost eager at that and Buffy just shook her head - picked up the phone.

"Magic Box - oh, hey, Mrs. Penshaw...  No, we're not home, this is the shop number.  And Dawn's not here, she's staying over at your house...  But she said...  Well, no, but...  Look, I'll go find them right now, okay?    Yeah...  I'll call you."  Buffy hung up the phone and turned to them in the sudden silence that had fallen.  She was pale but her mouth was set in a hard line, and when she spoke it was obvious she was angry.

"Dawn and Janice aren't at the Penshaw's - Janice told her mom she'd be staying over at our house.  So my little sister and her friend are out running around on the Hellmouth."  It took five minutes to designate areas of the town and then they were gone, weddings, decorations, and magical misuse mostly forgotten.

"Don't know what you were thinkin', Bit, but don't you ever think it again."

"But I didn't know he was dead!  I only met him tonight!"

"So you were making out with a total stranger on your very first date?  Are you crazy, Dawn?"

"It's not like you never kissed a vampire, Buffy!"

"I knew he was a vampire!"  Buffy grabbed Dawn's arm and dragged her away at speed, lecturing at the top of her voice.  Xander, Oz and Spike watched them go - turned to watch Giles and Ethan climb into their car and wave a weary goodnight.  Willow, Tara and Anya had stayed at the store in case Dawn called or came by, the two witches still bristling and snapping at each other like wet cats.

"Well, that was a fine ending to the day.  I think we need to go home and finish off the candy and watch 'Fight Club'," Xander said, and Oz raised his hand in the air, grinning.

"I vote yes."

"Two for me!  Spike?  What do you think?"  Spike started guiltily and tossed something away - a purple-and-white striped Pixie Stix tube.

"I think we need to stop by the store," he muttered.  "Little bastards cleaned us out."

9 Song

Oz put his arms down and then sat down, scrubbing his hands back through his hair and ruffling the dark green strands up wildly.  "Ooookay.  That was just -"

Fuckin' weird, Xander thought, toppling backwards, panting a bit.

Too right, pet, Spike agreed, and he hopped down from the rungs of the fire-escape ladder he was clinging to, looking around with gold-glowing eyes.

Did anybody else think 'West Side Story?'    Spike and Oz looked over at Xander, who lifted his hands in a 'what?' kind of gesture.

"Hey!  I do watch other stuff besides Aliens and Star Trek."

"Who'd have thought 'other stuff' meant lame musicals?" Spike sniggered, and Xander, who was collapsed across a pile of empty crates, kicked half-heartedly at him.  

"You knew what I meant, so I guess you've seen it, too," Xander said, and Spike opened his mouth and then shut it.  He hopped up onto a loading dock and sat on the lip, legs dangling.

"Dru loved Sondheim - made me take her to a revival of his, didn't she?  Went for every bloody performance.  Can't tell you how many times I've seen bloody West Side Story and Sweeny Todd...  Rather liked that one," Spike added, digging around for his cigarettes and lighter and for a moment they all sat in silence, Oz drumming his fingers restlessly on the stack of pallets he was on and Spike swinging his heels against the graffitied concrete of the dock.

"You suppose this happened to anybody else or was it just...us?" Oz wondered, and Xander sat up, pushing his hair back out of his face.

"Well, I guess we'll go see what Giles has to say...or we could just call -" he added, when Spike gave him a look.  This was supposed to be their night off - pool and drinks at the Bronze, movies, junk food, 'snogging' on the couch and an early bed-time where no sleeping would occur.  Spike did not want to go to the Watcher's house and get embroiled in all-night research or any other 'Scooby' business.

Don't need to go see the old queens tonight, Spike thought, puffing like a dragon, and Xander giggled at the mental image Spike provided with that - Giles and Ethan in slacks and cardigans, sipping tea from fussy cups, surrounded by stacks of books.

"They have kind of gone off the research deep-end," Oz mused, and Spike and Xander both silently agreed.   Ethan was getting better, but so very slowly, and Giles was convinced his cure lay somewhere in the musty, leather-bound tomes he unearthed at second-hand shops in San Francisco, ordered over the Internet, or cajoled out of the few Council friends he had left.  

Oz lifted his head suddenly, turning to look at the alley mouth, and Derio came around the corner.

"Hey -" Derio looked a little bewildered and Oz went to meet him, slipping an arm around his waist and getting a quick kiss.  "I - couldn't find you inside, so I..."  Derio's voice trailed away to silence and Oz hugged him a little.

"What's up, amante?" Oz asked softly, and Derio grinned at him - shook his head.

"I don't - know.  I was running a little late - had to drop some stuff off at the printers and - this man was there shouting about an order that was all screwed up?  Really being a pendeja, mi Dios.  And - then - the manager found the right order and it was all fixed and - we - started singing about it."  Derio looked at Oz - looked at Xander and Spike, a small, puzzled smile on his face.   Xander sighed noisily and Spike cursed.

"What?"

"We just - did the same thing.  The singing, I mean."  Oz sighed as well and leaned his head on Derio's shoulder.  "I guess we go by Giles' house after all," he said, and Spike cursed again.  But he jumped down from the dock and grabbed Xander's hands - hauled him up and into a quick kiss.

"Come on, love, maybe it'll be quick and we can get straight to the shagging, right?"

"Do our best," Xander murmured, pulling Spike forward by the belt-loops for another kiss.  After a moment they turned and the four of them walked out of the alley, headed for Giles house.   With a glance at Spike, Oz started humming, and then Xander did and Derio joined them, looking puzzled still but smiling.  

Bloody Hell!  Stop that!   Oz laughed out loud and started to sing, and Spike roared, but he was laughing too, and he couldn't help joining in, snapping his fingers along with Xander.

"Here come the Jets...like a bat out of hell
Someone gets in our way...someone don't feel so well...
Here come the Jets...little world step aside...
Better go underground...better run, better hide..."

"Does it really matter if we find out what's behind this?  I mean - singing and dancing, it's not that bad."  Buffy spoke from a face-down position on the table at the Magic Box and Anya paused beside her to pat her head.

"Of course it matters, Buffy.  It might have started as just singing and dancing, but now people are going up in flames!  At this rate, I won't have any customers left, and paying for the wedding will be difficult.  Drake's offered to pay half, of course, but if I let him do that he'll want to arrange things."  Anya shook her head indulgently and moved on, and Xander, sitting across the table, shared a look with Buffy.  Drake was studying forensics with a sort of manic glee and only Anya labored under the delusion that bridesmaid's dresses, seating charts, and 'first dance' song choices could drag his attention away from five-day-old corpses and mysterious stains.

"At least he fits in," Dawn had remarked, and he did, to the extent that Anya had finally told him everything about Sunnydale - and herself.   It had taken him most of a day to process and then he'd showed up at a Scooby meeting at the shop, notebook in hand and an expression of utter determination on his face.  He'd come along on patrol, made notes, and gotten elbow-deep into a Nyrn demon Spike had killed.  Spike had taken him for a drink.  He was currently doing a side-project of his own, cataloguing the various demons Buffy or Spike killed, and he kept popping up at odd moments during patrols or at the Bronze to ask questions or beg a tissue sample.  Spike encouraged him, Anya lectured, and everyone else found it secretly disturbing.  But also endearing and they were happy Anya had somebody that knew her secrets and accepted them.

"What's up, Buffy?  You're not your normal spunky Slayer self," Willow asked, shifting a pile of books to one side.  Tara, across the table from Willow and looking intently through an old herbal, glanced up at Willow for a moment, the expression on her face unreadable but...

Wow, that was...   Xander shivered just a little.  Tara's look - had chilled him.  Something's going on, there.

Dawn said they had a bad fight about magic but - when she mentioned it this morning Tara acted like nothing had happened.  Oz, over on the loft stairs with Derio looked troubled and Xander glanced at Tara again, who was now smiling softly at Buffy.

"You do seem kind of t-tired," Tara said.

"Oh, I'm - I'm okay, I guess."  Buffy sat up and brushed her hair back - idly picked up a pencil and began tapping it on the table.  "I - I went to see Angel a couple of days ago."

She WHAT?

"You what?" Willow looked concerned, and Buffy smiled wanly at her.

"Well, I kind of had to, you know?  He - found out I was - back and...  It just seemed kinda mean to ignore him.  I mean -"   Buffy sighed and tapped the pencil a little harder, and Willow reached out and put her hand on Buffy's, stopping the nervous motion.

"So - how was it?  Was it awful or was it - okay?  Are you okay?"   Buffy let the pencil go and locked her hands together in her lap - looked over at Oz and Derio sharing a book, and at Xander who had stopped his own research.  He smiled when she looked at him, and she smiled back.

"I thought it would be - terrible.  I thought - it would be this huge...ordeal.  But it was...  You know, I think he might be falling in love with Cordelia."

"You do?"   Xander didn't know what to feel about that.  Cordelia had really been his first love - real love, as opposed to schoolboy crushes or schoolboy lust, and it felt - odd - to think that someone else could see the sweet side of Queen C.  Especially when that someone was deadboy.

"Yeah.  He talked about her a little bit.  After I told him about a hundred times it was okay and he could.  It was...really nice to just sit and talk, you know?"  Buffy smiled again, only this smile was directed inwards, and softened the angular planes of her face - took the tired droop out of her shoulders.  "It was like...we finally connected, you know?  Not Slayer and Vampire or Hero and Heroine or any of that, just...two friends.  It was good."

"Wow.  That's - not something I ever thought you'd say about dead - about Angel," Xander said, and Buffy laughed lightly, standing up and gathering a stack of books.

"Me neither.  It wasn't ever true before.  Even Spike knew that - way back when.  But I think it is now.  We've both kind of - grown up."

'Bout time, came Spike's mental grumble, and then he was coming through the door, shoving a bizarre figure before him.  An apparently normal man from the neck down with what appeared to be a huge dummy head from the neck up.  It wobbled and almost fell, and Spike kicked it.

"Look what was lurkin' 'round outside, then," he growled, and the thing cowered.

"Ooh, is that what's been causing this off-Broadway nightmare?" Anya asked, coming around the end of the counter.  She hefted a chunky idol off a shelf and looked at it consideringly.  "Are you the jerk that's putting my wedding in jeopardy?"   She raised the idol threateningly and the creature and Spike both took a step back.

"Nah, it's just a servant, like," Spike said.  "Oi!  Watcher!  Best get out here."  Xander went to stand next to Anya and a moment later Oz and Derio joined him.  As Giles and Ethan came out of the office, Buffy moved up closer to the creature as well, looking pissed off.

"So, what's the story?" she said, and Spike kicked it again.

"Sing, you little bastard," he growled, and the figure puffed itself up, arms outstretched - and spoke.

"My master has the Slayer's sister.  She called him and he came, and at midnight he's going to take her back with him to the underworld to be his Queen.  Until then, he's waiting at the Bronze."  A collective groan went up from the assembly and the creature looked as puzzled as it was possible to look with a giant dummy head.

How in hell did it get Dawn?  Gonna have somebody's head for cricket, Spike snarled, and Xander took a hard breath.  

Pack pack pack, from all of them, fear and anger kick-starting the wolf and hyena into super-protective mode, and feeding fuel to the never-dimming flame of malice and bloodlust that was the demon.

"I'm sooo tired of fighting evil at the Bronze.  Can't we just make that like - Sweden, or something?  And why am I not surprised Dawn is involved in this?" Buffy groused, and Anya reluctantly put down her idol.

"Well, at least you know where to go to make all this madness stop.  Hurry up and kill his master, I can be open late tonight."  The creature stumbled back at that and tried to make a dash for the door, and Spike caught it and snapped its neck with a growl - dropped it to the floor.

"Spike!  I can't have customers stumbling over a dead...puppet-headed thing!  Take it to the dumpster!"  Anya stomped irritably into the office and slammed the door, and Spike rolled his eyes.

"Christ, wish she'd just elope," he grumbled, but he hoisted the creature up and began dragging it towards the back entrance.

"So, Dawn called this - demon - and now it's gonna drag her off to be Queen.  You know - I'm tempted to let it.  See if some supernatural creature can take her.  Bet he sends her back in a week."  Buffy was scowling and Giles moved towards her, a faint smile on his face.

"Really, Buffy, as much of a - a teenager as she's being, we can't leave Dawn to the - horrors of an arranged marriage.  Besides, untold retribution may rain down upon us if she angers this - song demon."          

"Oh - probably not," Ethan drawled, and everyone looked at him.  He held his hands up in a gesture of innocence and Xander felt the anger boiling up from Spike, who dumped the body in the training room and stalked back into the shop proper.

Bastard had better not have known all this time.  If Dawn's hurt -

Calm down, Spike - let him talk.   Xander grabbed at Spike's arm and stopped the vampire from going any closer to Ethan.

"What're you goin' on about, mage?" Spike growled, and Ethan flashed a wolfish grin at him.

"Just that Sweet won't actually harm her.  Or take her.  Dawn didn't call him.  I did."

"What?"  The chorus was loud and, in Willow and Buffy's case, a little shrill and Ethan stepped back one step, hunching his shoulders just a bit.

"Oh, I know Sweet from...other places.  He mostly just likes to cause a little chaos.  He gets people to sing out their secrets.  Really, it can be rather amusing.  This - bursting into flames thing is rather new, though."

"Ethan," Giles said, and his tone was one of long-suffering and barely leashed anger.  Ethan looked over at him and smiled again, his voice going soft.

"Oh, Ripper.  I'm just getting so bored, pet.  Sweet won't take her, since I did, in fact, do the summoning.  Just go confront him, do a little song and dance, and he'll be gone.  He knows better."  Ethan's voice was cajoling - caressing, and Giles sighed, shaking his head.  He reached out and touched Ethan's hand where it lay on the counter.

"Really, Ethan, you cannot do these sorts of things -"

"No you bloody well can't," Spike snapped, shaking Xander off and pushing past Willow and Tara to go toe to toe with the mage.  "If the Bit has one scratch on her I'll come back here and show you my favorite way to get marrow out of thighbones.  Think you'd like that?"  Ethan's eyes darkened, a seething flash of something and Spike hissed, vamping out.  Giles hastily got between them, pushing Ethan backwards towards the office and Xander moved forward as well, shooting Ethan a dark look and tugging at Spike's sleeve.

Spike, calm down, okay?  Let's just go get Dawn -

Protect pack.   Oz was closer too, glaring at Ethan who lowered his head, mock-submission.  His grin still curled the edges of his mouth up though, irrepressible and unrepentant.

"He won't be doing anything else.   Ethan, you go and - help Anya in the office.  We are not through speaking about this.   Dawn must be rescued - again.  Back off, Spike," Giles added, a touch of the darkman in his voice and Spike shot him a look of pure menace and whirled around - stalked out.  There was a moment's silence and then Buffy grabbed a stake and a knife out of an open weapons bag and darted after Spike.

"Wait up, Spike!  I'm the one that's supposed to be riding to the rescue!"  The door-bell jangled as they left, and Giles heaved a sigh.

"I suppose I should go along, just in case...anyone else?"  

"Sure, Giles, we'll come," Xander said, and he and Oz and Derio walked across the shop and up the stairs, grabbing weapons of their own.  Giles took an axe and followed them, and a moment later they were out the door.  A few paces down the sidewalk and the bell jangled behind them.  Xander turned to see Tara coming out of the shop, looking angry, and Willow trailing behind her, a sullen look on her face.  

Got the whole gang coming, he thought, and there was a snort of amusement from the shadows up ahead.  Spike was lounging against a wall, smoking, and fell into step with Xander as they came even with him.

"Slayer wanted to go on ahead - I figured I'd wait for you.  Make a better entrance, the whole gang like this, all - determined."  Laughter in the link, but Spike's hand found Xander's and they walked briskly to the club in a comfortable silence.  When they got to the Bronze, Buffy had kicked the door in, and they went in.

You know, I think I hate musicals now, Xander thought, lying on his back in bed.  Spike was doing something over by the dresser with his jeans and after a moment he slipped in beside Xander - eased himself over on his elbows and got one thigh between Xander's, his mouth dipping down to kiss shoulder and collarbone, sternum and jaw.   Low voices from Oz's room - Derio's soft laugh - and then quiet.

Least everyone knows about the Heaven thing.

Oh, yeah, that was just...great.  Not only does Willow take Buffy out of Heaven, she uses some sort of...mind-control spell on Tara to make her forget that they had a fight.  And it all comes out at once.   Tara's white, betrayed face - her shaking voice - had made the three of them close ranks, surrounding Tara and blocking Willow out.

"How could she," Tara whispered, hugging herself,   "After what G-glory did...how cou-ld she just - erase part of my mind?  Erase my meh-memories?  Oh god - what if..."   Oz had told Tara to come home with them - spend the night, but she had sniffed and straightened - shaken back her hair.

"No.  Wu-we have to - deal with this.  We h-have to talk it out.   Th-thank you for asking, b-but I have to go home t-tonight."

Red had better come up with a damn good apology for that, Spike grumbled, but then the link went to nothing but sensation, and Xander happily dismissed the witches - the whole evening - from his mind until later.

Now is THIS...Spike...love...   Xander sighed in pleasure as Spike's mouth moved down his body, licking and gently biting, sucking and caressing.    He shivered when Spike took the head of his cock into his mouth and then grumbled in inarticulate disappointment when the slick suction moved away.  A moment later, though, he hissed and arched in pleasure as Spike slid himself slowly down Xander's length.  Spike rested one hand on Xander's chest, the other on his thigh and worked himself languidly up and down, his head falling back and the moon-pale arch of his throat gleaming in the dimness.   Sensation and emotion coiled between them, no distinction of Spike and Xander, just us, us, us.

Love, love...holding me... god... sparks, like... needles and hot and...OH, there, just...  yeah, like...icefire in me in you this is...love...my, mine...blood and... honeysweet, god....just... don't stop, don't...see you, love you... demon, my own, my...never enough... fuck, how you make me... yours, just yours mine yours always... yes...    The link was babble - the sudden spillover from Oz hot salt hot need, oh need....need tooth bite sweet ice cold flame yours ours yours MINE was deliberate and heady and Xander thrashed, groaning.    Reached up to yank Spike down to him and maul the vampire's mouth with his own - thread his hands through silken hair and find the cicatrix of the claim-scar and take it into his mouth - split it open with snapping teeth.  Spike mewled in pleasure, his body like a vise around Xander, his hips still pumping and his own fangs scraping and prickling and sinking deep.  The shivering jolt of magic-laced blood was like a shock - like a blow - and Xander's body went hard and tight, arching up, nails drawing blood.  Spike's muscles convulsed, drawing him deeper and the cool, slick flood over their bellies smelt of sea and clover and pepper - smelt of magic and otherness, and the link was like a wave that rolled over them and took them down; low, grumbling moan of the wolf and the contented purr of the demon.

The door to the shop basement clicked shut and Giles glanced up to see what had made the noise - did a double-take, fumbling the stack of papers he was looking through.  "Oh good Lord," he said, and let his head drop down onto his hand.  Buffy and Anya, standing next to him at the counter, looked puzzled and then a huge grin came over Buffy's face and she started to giggle.

"Don't push it, Slayer," Spike growled, but Buffy just kept laughing and a moment later Anya joined her.  Spike growled again, for real this time, and stomped down the Magic Box steps.  Well, mostly stomped.  The stupid shoes didn't stomp well, and the stupid jacket didn't flare and snap like his duster, and...

"Spike!" Dawn squealed, wide-eyed and she doubled over in laughter too, clutching the back of the chair she was sitting in in an effort to hold herself up.  "Oh my god, I can't believe - oh my god!" Dawn choked out, gasping.

"You dared me and I did it, Bit.  Now you have to take that class."  Spike smirked at her and sat haughtily on the loft steps, wincing at the rasp of cheap twill over his wrists.  The suit was moth-bally, ill-made, and looked...  The door-bell jangled.

Fucking hell.  You look -   Spike groaned and clutched his head in his hands.  

You're supposed to be workin' late!

Had a complete fuck-up at the site - NOT my fault - so, no.  I'm here.  Just in time, apparently.  What are you...doing?   Xander stumbled down the steps and came to a halt in front of Spike.  Taking in the tweed slacks and dress shoes, the collared, buttoned-up shirt and tie, the tweed jacket, the -

Vest.  You're wearing a VEST?

Waistcoat, you wanker.   Spike didn't lift his head, and a moment later he felt Xander's hands  gently pushing his away and combing through his hair.  He'd deliberately left it alone - not a bit of gel or anything else - and Xander's fingers teased the loose curls, tugging gently.

Love your hair like this, like you just woke up...like you just got fucked...   Spike looked up sharply, grinning, and Xander let his fingers trail slowly out and away.  He grinned back and then sat down beside Spike, leaning hard into him.

"So why the sudden - Gilesification, Spike?  What's up?"

Yeah, what?   Oz and Derio emerged from the training room, Oz shirtless, with dust all over his shoulders and hands and Derio carrying a toolbox.  They'd been installing a sound system so Buffy could have music when she worked out.  She'd accidentally 'slayed' two boom-boxes, one with a poorly-aimed stake, the other with a kick and Giles had declared a moratorium.  They'd all figured Buffy'd have to work pretty hard to slay something that was up in the rafters.

"Is every sodding person here today?" Spike grumbled.  Buffy sauntered over from the counter, still pink-faced from laughing.

"Well, Ethan's not here.  Not yet.  But he's bringing Giles' tea so -"   The tinkle of the door-bell interrupted her and she grinned, eyebrows going up.  "So I'll bet that's him!"

"And us!" Willow called.  "We thought we'd join - holy god.  Spike?"  Beside her Tara gaped for a moment and then put her hand over her mouth, stifling laughter, and Ethan blew him a kiss.  Spike had had enough.

"Right.  That's bloody well it!"  Spike stood up and paced over to Dawn, scowling.    "Niblet kept sayin' how she wanted to sing, wanted to do something but she wouldn't take the classes, would she?  Said she was too shy!  I ask you!"  Spike shot a fierce look at Dawn who tried to look solemn but failed.  Derio put the toolbox down and brushed a cobweb out of Oz's hair, staring at Spike with an expression of utter fascination.

"So, I told her - go ahead, dare me something.  Told her if I took the dare she'd have to take the classes, these - voice or singing or whatever they bloody well are.  And I won, Bit, so Monday -"

"I'll be signing up."  Dawn sighed, looking down for a moment, then she looked back up at Spike, grinning again.

"I said you had to dress exactly like you used to!"

"Well, close as I could get without goin' to some museum or other, Bit -" Spike started, but Dawn shook her head, holding up a hand.

"No, that's not what I mean.  I mean - where's your glasses, Spike?"

"Glasses?" Buffy choked, and Spike vamped, snarling at her.  Then he took a deep breath and pulled the demon back - reached into the inner pocket of the jacket and pulled out a pair of cheap spectacles.  They sold them at the chemist's, no prescription needed, and these had the least magnification he could find.

Sodding things give me a headache, he grumbled, but he opened them and slid them on.  "Yes, Slayer, glasses.  Ruined my eyes peerin' at this or that bugger's cramped-up scribblings, didn't I?   You try reading by candle-light for fifteen years, see what it gets you."  He looked up at the group, unconsciously lifting his chin.  Total silence greeted him.

"Good Lord," Giles said faintly, and beside him Ethan ran a glittering, speculative eye over the vampire.  The girls were staring with various expressions of amazement, and Derio and Oz looked...

Somehow, you make tweed sexy, Oz thought, and Spike could see the same thought in Derio's eyes - saw him slip an arm around Oz and grin into the wolf's dusty green hair.  And Xander...was lost.  Memories flooding him, memories that Xander was re-living - deliberately searching for.

Walking across Hyde Park, heading for a particularly secluded bench, anticipation and joy centered on the brand-new book that was tucked under his arm.  Browsing for hours in the bookstalls at Charing Cross.   Sitting in the parlor with Mother after supper, listening to the quiet click of knitting needles as he read aloud to her.  And oldest and most dear, huddling in the tiny space between bed and wall, the candle set carefully on an old box.  Mother's faded India shawl around his shoulders and his legs going numb, his feet freezing as he read, read, read, while the old clock downstairs chimed out eleven and midnight and one a.m. and thirteen-year-old William fell asleep sitting up, dreaming of King Arthur and Captain Nemo...

Love...   Xander was smiling at him and Spike smiled back, his real smile.  He hadn't thought of his books - his little den - for so many years, despite the growing library they were accumulating at home.

Some of my best times, those.  After Father died...   Xander gently took the jacket lapels in his hands and drew Spike close - kissed him softly.

I look a right nancy.

Beautiful no matter what, Xander contradicted, and pulled back - tucked a lock of hair behind Spike's ear.

"Wow -" Buffy said, and then a soft grey haze rolled in, and everything vanished.

Ow, ow!  Damn - slept funny - ooh, my neck -   He sat up slowly, rubbing at a cricked and throbbing neck and shoulder, and looked around in confusion.  The - room? was dim, lined with shelves of books and jars of things, candles and statues.  There were other people as well, sprawled over the floor.

What in Hell...?  What the fuck am I doing here?  I should be...I should...who...?  Oh god, who, who am I?  I don't -

Don't panic! A voice said, in his head.  Hard voice, clipped and calm.  Head injury or shock can cause temporary amnesia.  Let it go - it's not a priority!

"Yeah, right," he muttered.

"Huh?" a voice said, and he looked around wildly - spotted a blonde woman over by some steps, sitting up slowly.  She looked around, her expression utterly confused, and then stood up - crossed to a wall and flipped a switch.  Lights came on overhead and he looked around in shock and growing dismay at the -

Eight...NINE people!  All - passed out?  Fuck, please be passed out.  And - wow - damn big dog.  He moved, getting his legs under him so he could stand and his hand came down rather heavily on an arm and he recoiled.

Whoa.  He's pretty close.  Was I - protecting him?  Did something happen?  Gotta - check for injuries, gotta -   Something stirred, inside, some knowledge and he crouched over the suited figure beside him, reaching to take a pulse.  His fingers found cold flesh - no pulse at all -and he felt his mouth go dry.

"Oh fuck, I think this guy's - d-dead."

"What?"  The blonde woman stumbled over, eyes wide, and he reached out again, pressing his fingers into the pale, cool skin of the other man's throat.

"I can't feel a pulse.  Here - you - you stay with him and I'm gonna see if - if anybody else is hurt.  Do you know - what happened?"  The blonde shook her head, staring at the dead man, and he stood up and looked around - went to the nearest figure, a teenage girl with long dark hair.  He hesitated for one moment and then he put his fingers to her neck, taking in a huge breath of relief when he felt a strong, solid heartbeat.  As he pulled away her eyes popped open and she squealed, scuttling back away from him.

"Don't!  D-don't hurt me!"

"Hey!  No hurting!  I wasn't -"   He held his hands up, palms out, keeping his voice low.  Keep her calm, don't let anybody panic, just assess the situation and move on.   The voice in his head seemed to know what it was talking about - the advice seemed sound - so he just waited, watching the girl.  The blonde had jerked, startled, when she'd cried out and now she moved closer, holding her hand out.

"Hey - it's okay.  He was just making sure you weren't hurt.  He won't hurt you - I won't hurt you.  It's okay."

"What's going on?"  It was one of the two older men - glasses and short, graying hair - and he was sitting up, looking around muzzily.

"We - we don't know.  I'm checking for injuries.  This guy - Fuck me!"  The 'dead' guy was sitting up, irritably rubbing his head, and he shot to his feet and stumbled away.  The blonde woman let out a tiny shriek and scrambled away as well, pulling the teenage girl with her and holding tightly to her hand.

"What in bloody hell is going on?  Why are you people being so damn loud?"  The dead guy - well, no, live guy! coiled gracefully to his feet and looked around - took off the glasses that were perched on his nose and regarded them with puzzlement, then put them away in his jacket.

"I th-thought you were dead!  I felt for a pulse and I couldn't - you were cold!"

"I'm not dead."  The - living guy - stared at him and he stared back, something tickling at the back of his mind, something...urging him?

What the hell?  So, he's not dead and...god, he's fucking - amazing, his eyes...

Get back to the others! that little voice insisted, and he blinked and looked around.

"Look - I don't know - what's going on.  But we need to see if anybody is hurt and we need to - figure out what we're doing here.  I'm -"   Sudden and utter panic, because when he'd tried to introduce himself - nothing came.  

Nothing!  Oh my god - it's not coming back...

"Jesus, I - I can't remember my name," he said shakily, and the blond man's eyes went wide.

"What kind of a person doesn't know their own name?" the blond man asked, and he shook his head, trying to stay calm.

"I dunno. What's your name?"  The blond man opened his mouth - shut it and than opened it again and then slumped, defeated.

"I - dunno.  Bloody hell!  What about you two, d'you have names?" he asked the girls, and they both looked confused.

"I - I'm...  Oh!"  The blonde woman reached out to the teenager, lifting a little gold necklace in her fingers.  "This says 'Dawn' - I'll bet that's you!"  The brunette smiled, looking relieved.

"Or 'Umad'," she said, looking down, and giggled.  The blonde rolled her eyes.

"Steady on, then," the older man said, and another man - this one also older, but ill-looking; thin and pale, rose shakily to his feet, leaning on the counter and looking around him.

"What on earth -?" he asked, and the blond man made a sort of amused noise.

"Well, that's three of us for the Queen - any more, or are the rest of you all Yanks?"  They all looked around as the other people - a red-haired woman, another blonde woman and a woman with light brown hair, and a young man whose dark-brown hair was in dreadlocks all stirred, sitting up and then standing.  They all shared the same air of fearful confusion.  The dog was the last to rouse and it looked around at them - lifted its head and let loose a quavering howl, eerie and too loud in the confines of the shop.

Has to be a shop - there's a register - but...what kind of weird shop IS this?

"Ah!  Make it stop!" Dawn said, hands over her ears, and the dreadlocked man - who'd woken with the dog draped over his legs - reached out hesitantly and petted it, tugging the mane of dense, auburn hair around its neck and shushing it.  After a moment the dog quieted and leaned against the man, watching them with feral, jet-black eyes.

Right - okay...  How do we figure out who we are?  Gotta be some way to identify...I.D.!

"Hey!  Everybody - check and see if you have a wallet or a - purse or something.  Maybe we can figure out who we are that way."  They all began to check, patting pockets and looking gingerly through the various packs and bags that had been close to them when they'd woken.  In all, it was amazingly successful.

The two older men were Rupert Giles (with glasses) and Ethan Rayne, the dreadlocked man was Desiderio Padovani, the red-haired woman was Willow Rosenberg, and the taller blonde was Tara Maclay.  The shorter blonde woman didn't have any I.D on her at all, and neither did Dawn.  The brown-haired woman didn't seem to have I.D. either, but she poked around behind the counter and came up with a purse - lifted a driver's license out and checked it against her reflection in a small compact.

"I'm Anya Jenkins!" she said, grinning, and they all smiled back.

"And I'm - Alexander Harris."  A rush of relief came over him at that - as if merely knowing his name somehow made things better, and he heaved a small sigh of relief.

So...Alexander.  Alex, I guess.   "So - everybody has a name but you and you," Alex said, pointing in turn to the small blonde woman and the suited not-dead man, who rolled his eyes.

"Actually, I do have a name.  But good god -"   He held out his jacket, where a small placket of material was sewn, with some writing on it.  "'Made with care for Randy'.  What am I, bloody three years old?  You probably thought it was a right good joke," Randy said, glaring at Rupert, who recoiled slightly from the fierce blue gaze.

"What?  Me?  Why in the world are you accusing me of - of that?" Rupert waved his hand at the jacket and then turned with a startled noise to Ethan, who was reeling a bit.  "Good lord, man, are you all right?"

"Just - just a bit dizzy.  I really feel I must sit down," Ethan said faintly, and Rupert led him over to the chair that Tara hastily vacated.

"There now, all right?  I don't suppose there's any chance of some tea -" Rupert said helplessly, looking around, and Anya perked up.

"Oh!  Maybe there is.   I'll go look."  She turned with a determined air towards what looked like an office but Willow stopped her.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?  Snooping around?  I mean - this place is pretty weird with the - magic books and stuff..."  She held up a book that said 'Magic for Beginners' on the cover, and they all regarded it with varying degrees of interest.

"Magic!  A bunch of balderdash," Rupert scoffed, and Anya frowned at him.

"Better not say that in front of the customers!  Look - right here it says that you and I own this shop."  She indicated a messy stack of papers that she had been looking at a few moments earlier.  "And if we own this shop then it stands to reason that we believe in magic."  She nodded decisively and Rupert looked thoughtful.  "Also, there's probably a kettle and some teabags or something back here since I'll just bet you're not the kind of guy who gets a latte."  Anya turned and marched into the office and Alex shrugged.

"She's probably right.  Listen - Randy - what's the deal?  Why are you all - accusing Rupert of...your name?"  Randy snorted, his hands feeling over his pockets and coming up with a pack of cigarettes.  He looked at them in surprise and then shrugged, tapping one out.

"Well, we're both Brits, for one.  And that-" he added, pointing at Ethan with the cigarette, "has got Oscar bloody Wilde stamped all over it.  Plus - look how we're dressed!  Must be 'drag your son to work and bore him stiff' day."  Randy finally found a lighter - a sleek silver Zippo - and lit up, inhaling deeply.  Rupert glanced down at this own slacks and tweed jacket, bewildered, then made the connection.

"Son?" he squeaked, looking less than pleased.  "There is a certain feeling of...familiarity."  He frowned, then moved to stand by the counter, looking at the papers Anya had indicated.

Oscar Wilde?  He was...oh!  He was that English guy...that GAY English guy!  Is Ethan gay?  Well...   Alex shrugged mentally, not caring.  Gay, straight, he can't remember any more than the rest of us, so...  And besides, I don't know if Randy's gay but...he's fuckin' HOT.  And so is that Desiderio guy.  So - maybe I'm a little...Wilde...too.  

Get a fuckin' grip! the inner voice raged.  We've got more important things to worry about than who likes dick!  Like, why we can't REMEMBER anything and what the fuck is going on!  Snap out of it, soldier, and get with the program!

uh?  Jesus, shut up!   Alex wondered if the others had little voices yelling at them in their heads.  He decided that maybe it wouldn't be the best idea to mention it out loud, just in case.

"You know, I think I was in the Army or something.  I mean - when I woke up, I was thinking about if anybody was hurt and - I just knew what to do.  I mean, I could imagine how to take care of somebody who was in shock or something."

"Maybe you're a doctor," Willow said, and he grinned.

"Nah.  I've also got a card for a carpenters' union of some kind so - probably not.  But I just kinda feel like..."  He stopped talking, shaking his head.  He couldn't put it into words; it was just a feeling, but a strong one.

"You know, I - kinda feel the same.  I - remember?  Some stuff..."  Randy's voice trailed off, and Alex looked over at him.  Something - was there.  Some sort of - familiarity and he nodded slowly at the other man.

"Yeah.  I think so too.  Maybe we - met in the military?  Something...  You just -"

"Yeah," Randy echoed, looking back at him, and they both smiled at the same moment.

Wow - niiice smile.  I wonder...   But that line of thought was interrupted by the blonde woman.

"I want to be called Joan!" she said, and Dawn made a face.

"Joan?  Yuck!  That's so - so boring!"  

Joan made a face right back.  "Better than 'Umad'!"  

"Oh, shut up," Dawn snapped, just as Joan said:

"You're such a pain!"  They stared at each other.

"Hey, maybe we're -"

"Sisters?" Dawn finished, and they both smiled and hugged each other.

"Hey, Alex, maybe these are yours," Desiderio said, softly accented voice that placed him from south of the border somewhere.  He was indicating a toolbox and Alex went over to it - crouched down to look.  He froze as the huge dog pulled away from Desiderio's grip and stalked over to him - pushed his nose into his shoulder and then his neck, sniffing.

"Sheesh, that's cold and wet - ah - hey!  C'mon, dog, don't do that."  Alex turned slowly and equally slowly put his hand out, letting the dog sniff it before he curled his fingers into the thick, russet fur.  It was silky-soft and the dog felt good - felt solid and right, and Alex shivered just a little.

Maybe I know this dog?  Maybe me and this Desiderio guy...?

"That's not actually a dog.  That's a wolf, although I've never seen one so large," Rupert said quietly, and Randy glanced at him and then moved closer, his eyes on the dog.

"How d'you know what it is?" he said softly, and crouched down next to Alex, hand outstretched.  The - wolf - eyed him for a moment and then sniffed his outstretched fingers - nuzzled his face into Randy's palm.  Randy grinned, delighted, and stroked the thick fur of the wolf's chest and neck.

"I - don't know, exactly, how I know...  I just do.   Perhaps I'm a - a weekend naturalist?"  Rupert looked back at the papers and Alex smiled at Randy and the wolf.

"He's really beautiful, isn't he," he said softly, and Randy grinned at him.

"Yeah, he is," he replied, and Alex reached out to touch the wolf again.  When he did it was like - felt like -

Like a circuit completing.  Like...feels RIGHT.  What the hell?  NOT me and Desiderio.   The feeling was so strong he gasped, and beside him Randy did the same.

"What the hell was that?" he said under his breath, and Alex shook his head helplessly.

"I dunno, but I think - we'd better stay together.  And - and Desiderio, too."  Randy nodded - looked over at the other man who was watching them with sharp, black eyes.

"I think you're right," Desiderio said, just as quiet.  They all jumped as Anya suddenly popped out of the office.

"I was right!  There's an electric kettle back there and tea things, and this!"  She held up a folder of some kind, brown with an elastic fastening.  Across the front in bold letters was 'My Wedding Planner'.   "I'm getting married!  There are all kinds of charts and - and lists and - tons of stuff!"  Anya looked pleased and she turned to eye Rupert.

"So, do you think it's us that's getting married?  I mean - we're co-owners of the shop and everything.  Makes sense."

"Hmmmm..."  Rupert looked a little startled at the thought, but before he could say another word there was a sudden crash of breaking glass.  

"What the -" Alex jumped up, heading for the front of the shop and Randy fell in step with him.  Dawn and Joan hung back, wide-eyed.  There was a spray of glass across the floor, and a chunk of what looked like cinderblock.  It was just twilight outside - deep, blue-amber haze that made the edges of things fuzzy and indistinct.  Someone was standing on the other side of the door - several someones.

"We want Spike!" a muffled voice yelled, and Alex and Randy looked at each other, puzzled.

"They want spikes?"  Another piece of cinder-block crashed through the window and Alex jumped - glared at the door.

"This is really pissing me off."  He reached out and put his hand on the knob - caught Randy's eye.  "You ready?"

"Ready," Randy said, grinning, and Alex wrenched open the door.  Three figures whirled to face them and they stared for a long moment.  Alex slammed the door shut - turned the security bolt.  Randy lunged for the window and yanked down an anti-theft mesh, clicking it shut.  Then they both stared at one another.

"What the - the fuck was that?"

"Vampires!" Randy said, and Alex gave him an odd look.

"What d'you mean, vampires?"  Randy stared at him, utterly blank, and then a thoughtful look came over his face.

"I...  Did you see their faces?"

"Yeah.  They looked...weird."

"They looked like vampires.  They - bloody hell!  They just did!"  Randy looked frustrated and jumped when Joan came up behind them.

"So what's going on outside?"  She peered through the broken window, and suddenly a ridged, fanged face appeared in it, snarling.

"Send him out or we'll burn the place down!"   Joan gave a yelp, jumping back, and Alex moved on pure instinct, the voice in his head screaming instructions.  He punched straight and hard, dead center, and was rewarded with a sharp snap and a howl as his fist broke the vampire's nose.  The face disappeared backwards, streaming blood.

"Brilliant!" Randy crowed, slapping Alex on the shoulder and Alex winced, stumbling forward a step.

"Damn!  You're strong, Randy."  Alex rubbed his shoulder and Randy looked at his hand - smiled delightedly.

"Am I?  Bloody brilliant."

"Those are vampires, huh?" Joan asked, inching up to peer through the mesh again.  Alex tugged her away.

"Yeah, vampires.  And they want - somebody.  Spike?"

"Who the hell is Spike?  We've all got names.  Unless the sods want the wolf?"  All three turned to look at the wolf who lolled his tongue out at them, looking for all the world as if he thought they were utter idiots.

"Well, they can't have him.  What would vampires want with a wolf, anyway?" Desiderio said, kneeling down and hugging the wolf.  The animal leaned into him, letting out a low hmmph sound.

"No, they can't have him," Alex said slowly.  Because they couldn't.  The wolf - was important.

"Listen - this is a magic shop - maybe we can find some kind of spell or something to get rid of them?  And - what kills vampires?"  Willow sounded excited, looking through the books on the table in the center of the shop and Tara, Dawn and Ethan started to go through them as well.  Rupert put the papers down and opened a book that was beside him on the counter.

"Well, let's see...  According to traditional lore - if, of course, I remember correctly, vampires may be killed by...holy water, or - or crosses, or a wooden stake through the heart."

"Or beheading," Ethan said, nose in a book, and Rupert nodded distractedly.

"Yes, or beheading.  So - do we have any stakes, I wonder?"

"Let's see what's back there," Joan said, pointing, and Alex and Randy followed her across the shop and through the door in the back.

"Wow!  Look at this!"  Joan darted across the room to a wall of axes, swords, daggers and staffs.  Other, more mundane equipment - weights, a horse, a punching bag and a stack of mats - was scattered around.

"This is giving me a very...bad...feeling," Randy said, looking around.  He stripped off his jacket and rolled his shirt-sleeves up, and Alex couldn't help noticing his pale, muscled forearms and agile fingers.  He shivered, just a little.

What the fuck?  I wonder if we're...close?  He just...   Alex shook his head.

Focus, for god's sake! the voice screamed, and Alex sighed.

"Bad feeling why?" he asked.  Joan had doubled up her fists and was punching half-heartedly at a heavy-bag, and Randy watched her for a moment.

"It just seems - there's vampires out there.  And we're in a bloody magic shop...  What if this isn't our world?  Or - what if in this world, the vampires have taken over?  What if we're the only humans left?"  Joan stopped punching, staring at him, and Alex felt a quiver of fear go through him.

"No way.  We can't be the only humans.  Can we?"  Randy looked at him, his eyes wide and a little spooked.

"No, we can't 'cause - what would the vampires eat if all the humans were dead?  They need us to survive, so..."  Joan put her fists on the heavy bag, head to one side.  "So maybe it's a war.  And we just got - trapped, or something, but there'll be a rescue soon or - something."  She drew her fist back and punched, and the bag swung violently, the chain creaking.  Alex whistled.

"Wow - you're strong too.  What if -"   He was interrupted by a cracking sound and suddenly a back door splintered away from the jamb and swung inwards, crashing into the wall.  Two figures leaped through: vampires, fangs gleaming and golden-glowing eyes wild.

"Got 'em now!" one crowed.  He pounced towards Joan whose face went from utter shock to grim determination.  The other leaped for Alex, grinning, and he ducked and rolled, bringing his fist up as the vampire flew over him, sinking it deep into his gut.  The blow seemed to shock the creature, who rolled awkwardly to his knees.  Out of the corner of his eye, Alex could see Joan punching and kicking, and the vampire reeling under her blows.  

Fuck - what -stake, holy water - gotta be a stake back here!  Alex pushed himself to his feet and then Randy was there, raining blows down on the other vamp and Alex darted away to the wall of weapons.  He searched frantically and almost tripped over a duffle.  He yanked the zipper down and saw stakes, and grabbed a handful.

"Joan!  Catch!" he shouted, and lobbed one to her.  She snatched it out of mid-air and he turned to Randy, who had the vamp pinned and was methodically pulverizing its face.

"Randy!" Alex yelled, and tossed the second stake.  As Randy started to turn Joan lunged and stabbed her vamp with the stake.  It exploded into a cloud of dust and she reeled back, coughing.

"Did you see that?  That was awesome!  I think I'm some kind of superhero!"  Joan was grinning, panting, and Alex grinned back - turned back in time to see Randy bring his own stake down on the vamp beneath him.

"Hold your breath!" Joan cried, and the dust swirled up.  Randy let out a shout of triumph and bounced to his feet - turned to face them.

"I guess that won't be a problem," Alex muttered.  Randy just grinned at him - golden eyes, fangs, a ridged and alien face.  

"Oh my god!"  Joan looked around frantically, as if for another stake, and Randy took a step towards her, his grin fading.

"What's the matter?  Did you see how he just - disintegrated?  That was bloody amazing!"

"Randy - you...  Uh, you - your f-face."

"What about it, mate?"  Randy's hand went up to his cheek - to his forehead - and froze.  Wide-eyed, he felt carefully over his features, his fingertips just brushing the tips of his fangs.

"But - what -" Randy looked utterly shattered and Alex walked slowly over to him.  He wanted -

He's - a vampire.  But he's in here with us - he's our friend, he HAS to be...  God, just wanna...   Alex reached out and hesitantly put his hand on Randy's shoulder and the vampire slumped a little, looking at him.

"I can't be a vamp, Alex. I'm - I'm in here with you - you blokes!  I'm - a good guy, aren't I?"

"Y-yeah.  You have to be.  Maybe there are - are good vamps and - and bad vamps and - you help us!  I mean - Joan is like - WonderWoman over there or something and you must help us kill the bad vamps.  Maybe - maybe there's lots of good vamps!"  Alex couldn't stop staring and Randy looked away, shrugging his hand off.

"Don't have to stare.  It's - ugly."

"No it's not!" Alex snapped.  Where the fuck did THAT come from?  But...it's not.

"It's just - different" Joan said softly, walking over to them and studying Randy's face.  "It's like - a lion's face, kind of."

"Yeah?"  Randy looked pleased - glanced over at Alex, smiling, and suddenly the vampire face was gone.

"Oh!  It's - how'd you do that?"

"It's gone!" Alex stepped up close, his hand going to touch Randy's now-smooth forehead.

"Hey, guys?"  They all started, turning around, and Desiderio was in the doorway, the toolbox in his hand.  The wolf pushed past him and trotted over, rubbing up against Randy's leg, pushing him back a step.  Randy laughed and dropped his hand down onto the tall, broad back.

"I think we'd better get that door nailed shut or something," Desiderio said, and he came across the room as well.

"Oh - yeah.  Lucky they didn't all just run through!"  Alex went to help the other man, looking around for something they could brace the door up with.

"So, you can put your vampire face on and off," Joan said, and Randy grinned at her.

Two hours later and the vampires outside had tried to rush them three times.  They hadn't set fire to the building yet - they kept threatening it - and everyone was getting antsy.  A call to the police had proved fruitless, since the vamps had apparently cut the phone line, and no one had a cell phone.

"Can't believe we're living in the bloody Century of the Fruitbat and not one bloody person has a cell phone!" Randy groused, smoking his last cigarette and pacing back and forth in front of the counter.  He'd torn the sleeves off his shirt but left his vest on and the flex of his muscles under milk-white skin was fascinating.  At least - Alex and Desiderio couldn't stop watching, and Ethan seemed to be sneaking glances as well.  Anya had tried a spell-book, but she'd only managed to conjure a spotted black and white rabbit.  She'd screamed and passed out, and Rupert was currently trying to revive her with Essential Oil of Eucalyptus and scotch.

Ethan, Willow, Tara and Dawn were still poring over books, and Joan was in the back again, trying out different weapons.  The occasional thump and 'awesome!' drifted out to them.

"Century of the Fruitbat?  What the hell is that?" Alex asked, leaning over the wolf's back and rubbing it behind the ears.   The wolf made that little hmmph noise again and pressed against his hands.

"It's - it's...  I don't have a soddin' clue!  It just - popped into my head!  Listen, we can't just sit in here - we need to do something.  We need to -"

"What?  Attack?  We're not all superpowered like you and Joan, Randy!  We'd get killed!"  Dawn was the most afraid, of all of them, and Randy pinched his cigarette out and put the butt in his pocket - went over to her and crouched down next to her chair.

"Listen, Dawn, there's no way I'd make you fight these wankers.  I'd keep you safe."  Dawn looked down at him and a small smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

"You - you would?"

"Course I would - we all would!  You saw the pictures in all the wallets!  You're - all of you are family.  Something like.  Me an' Ethan, we're the odd men out."  Dawn looked thoughtful at that.  She'd even had pictures in a small backpack that had included Desiderio and a shorter, blue-haired man, an obvious couple.  Randy was right - it seemed that he and Ethan were the only ones not pictured anywhere.

Doesn't matter.  Randy BELONGS.  He's one of us.  Maybe - you can't take pictures of vampires.  They don't show up in mirrors, so - probably not.

"You don't feel - odd," Dawn said, and Randy ducked his head - smiled up at her and then stood up, patting her shoulder gently.

"Thanks, pet.  But don't be scared - it'll be okay."  Randy went back to his pacing, his brow furrowed in thought, and Alex found himself staring upwards at the loft that held more books and a couple of straight-backed chairs.

"You know..." he said slowly, listening with concentrat