Hold Fast

by
Tabaqui

13 Fallout

"What could possibly be taking them so long?"  Anya paced back and forth in front of the Magic Box counter, looking anxiously towards the training room door.  Giles, who was leafing through a large supplies catalogue, glanced up at her.

"It hasn't been that long, has it?  Oh! Eye of Lepus!  You told me they didn't sell this!"

"It's rabbits' eyes, Giles!  Do you really think I'm going to have those in the shop?  Have them - looking at me, every day?  Not on your Nellie, buster."   Giles shot Anya an annoyed look and folded the corner of the catalogue down.  Beside him, Ethan distractedly lifted a cup of tea and sipped at it, grimacing at the heat.  He was reading a particularly old-looking book and little flakes of the binding came off on the counter-top every time he touched it.

Xander grinned, leaning back against Spike.  They were waiting for the girls to come out and model the bridesmaid's dresses.    They'd been back and forth with alterations and now, two days before the wedding, they were ready.

"Oh, for hell's sake!" Anya muttered.  Oz was re-arranging some stock and he patted her arm as he walked by.

"Just relax, Anya.  They haven't ever been bridesmaids before - they're excited."  Xander could hear Spike making a groaning sort of noise down in his chest and Oz shot him a look.

You don't know what she's like when she's nervous.  Anything to calm her down.

Let's call Drake and tell him she needs an emergency shag, then,   Spike thought, and Xander giggled.

He'd do it, too!  At least Anya got somebody as - enthusiastic - about sex as she is.

You're enthusiastic, pet.   Spike combed his fingers gently through Xander's hair and Xander sighed happily.

Sure.  But at least I don't talk about it - to everyone - all the time.

You could if you wanted.

No!  Some stuff is just for me, Xander thought, and he squeezed Spike's calf.  Spike hmmm'd to himself, pleased.

"Finally!" Anya exclaimed as the training-room door creaked open and the girls filed out, rustling and...

Glowing?  Are they glowing?   Xander stared, feeling his mouth drop open.

My eyes!   Oz ducked behind a bookshelf and Xander and Spike could both hear him snorting quietly.  Spike was shaking with silent, suppressed laughter.  Silent because the look on Dawn's face threatened instant death.

"Oh!"  Anya stood in an attitude of utter shock, her hands over her mouth.  Giles glanced up at the sound - glanced at the girls - and then stared.

"Oh dear Lord," he muttered.  Ethan's cup clattered loudly into its saucer and he abruptly scooped it up and did a fast march into the office.  Suspicious strangling noises began to drift out.

"Look at you!"  Anya advanced on the girls, her face slack with disbelief.  "You.  Look.  Beautiful!  Absolutely beautiful!  Don't they look incredible?"  She turned to Xander and Spike, and Xander sat up straight, closing his mouth.

"Yeah, don't we look beautiful," Dawn said, glaring, and Xander grinned at her.

"Oh, yeah, you guys look - totally - amazing.  I mean - wow!  I would never have - would never have -"

"Never have imagined how much chartreuse does for your complexion, Slayer," Spike said, his voice completely serious and now it was Buffy's turn to glare.  Giles made a noise like a suppressed sneeze and dropped his catalogue.

"I think I'd better check on Ethan," he muttered, and bolted for the office as well.

"Spike!  They're not chartreuse, they're -"   Anya seems to be groping for the right word and Oz finally stumbled out from behind the bookshelf, his eyes suspiciously wet.

"They're a kind of peacock color," he said, and Anya shook her head.

"No, no - the dressmaker said - emerald?  Jade?  Anyway, not chartreuse.  And they're just perfect!  Totally perfect!"  She went up to the girls and pulled them into a sort of five-way hug.  The layers of taffeta ruffles rustled alarmingly.  Dawn made a gruesome face over Anya's shoulder and Spike snorted out loud.

What was demon-girl thinking?

I kinda doubt she WAS thinking.  She's been -

A raging lunatic, Oz thought, coming over and sitting down next to Xander.  Xander scooted over a little and they both leaned back on Spike's legs.

She's been asking me about seating charts and a set list for days - she keeps changing her mind!  And Drake just nods and says 'whatever you want, honey'.   Oz closed his eyes and sighed as Spike's fingers rubbed his neck and petted through his hair.

Poor wolf.  Better you than me.

Jerk.    Xander and Spike watched as Anya made the girls twirl around and around - as she quizzed them about their hair and makeup and reminded them that Halfrek - her demon friend - would be her maid of honor.

"So - Xander - you have a suit, right?" Anya asked, turning around suddenly and pinning Xander with a steely look.  The girls fled back to the training room to change and Xander shook his head.

"Suit?  Uh - no?  I don't need a suit; I'm not in the wedding, Anya."

"Well, no, but you're going to be there and you can't wear your usual."  She gave his work-uniform - dirty jeans, t-shirt, ragged flannel - a scornful once-over.

"I won't wear work-clothes to your wedding, Anya, I promise," Xander smiled at her and she just shook her head, stomping off into the training room, muttering.

"Told me I couldn't wear my coat," Spike said, sounding amused, and Xander tipped his head back to look at him.

"Really?"

"She told me I had to dye my hair in a complementary color," Oz said.  Spike was still rubbing his neck and he was limp and relaxed.  His hair was currently a strange sort of purplish-red.

"Complementary to what?  Those dresses?  Nothin' complements those tragedies," Spike leaned down and kissed the end of Oz's nose and the werewolf blinked up at him, smiling.  He groaned and hauled himself upright.

"Two more hours, then I'm home," he said, and went back to work.  

"Is it safe?"  Giles poked his head around the door and he and Ethan eased back over to the counter.  "My god.  I thought my cousin Taffy's wedding was awful, but at least she only dressed her entourage in sky-blue sailor suits!"

"Taffy?" Xander asked, standing up and pulling Spike up with him.

"Oh, family nick-name, you know -"   Giles waved his hand vaguely and Xander just shook his head.

"Well, we're gonna go patrol, see what there is to kill.  With so many of Anya's - family - here, things are a little..."

"Twitchy," Spike finished.  Giles opened his mouth to say something but the front bell jangled wildly as someone all but fell through the door.  A young man, his clothes dirty and torn, his face bruised and bloodied, staggered inside and nearly fell down the steps.

"Help me!  Please, can you help me?  They're gonna kill me -"

"Johnathan?"  Xander darted forward just in time to catch him as he passed out.

"Nezzla demons?  You must be mad," Giles muttered, and Johnathan just looked at him.

"So - tonight's the night, he's gonna go all - Superman and rob this bank?"  Buffy was pacing, still in her bridesmaid dress.  The others were perched here and there around the room, listening to Johnathan's story.  His lip was split, and one eye was swollen shut.  The way he was moving, Xander was pretty sure he had some cracked ribs, too.  His 'friend' Warren had worked him over.

"Yeah.  And those orbs - he's really, really strong now.  He - he's just gone crazy - crazier.  He decided I was a spy for you, you know?  'Cause you had me in your house for those two days..."  Johnathan's voice trailed into silence and he sniffed - shifted uncomfortably on his chair.  "I thought he was my friend...I thought they both were.  But they're - they want to kill you, Buffy."  Johnathan cringed a little when he said that, and Dawn glared at him.

"They won't get the chance," Buffy snapped.  She looked down at herself.  "I'm gonna go change.  Dawn, you need to go -"

"To our house," Xander said, and Buffy looked at him, hesitating.  Then she nodded and spun around, walking rapidly to the back.

"Let me and the Slayer take him on, love," Spike said, sliding his hand over Xander's belly and pulling him into a close hug.  Johnathan stared for a second and then blushed, looking away.

"You think?" Xander asked, and Spike kissed the side of his neck.

"Yeah.  You and the wolf keep an eye on the rest of the family, keep 'em safe.  No telling what this bastard might do."

"Yeah."   Xander sighed - turned his head a little and kissed Spike on the cheek.  "Yeah, okay.  Willow, you want me to take you home?"

"Uh - no, I promised Anya I'd help her tonight - last minute wedding -things.  Rehearsal dinner and all that."   Willow didn't look too happy, but Anya smiled at her and hugged her around the shoulders.

"That's right.  We have to double-check the seating chart and - oh! - one of Drake's aunts and her kids are going to be at the airport in an hour, we have to go meet them.  Come on, Willow - lots to do!"  Anya bounced over to the counter for her purse and Willow made a sad face - smiled shyly over at Tara.

"It was good to see you, Tara.  I guess I'll - I'll see you at the rehearsal tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, Willow.  It'll b-be fun."  Tara smiled softly and Willow beamed - waved at everyone else as Anya grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the shop, chattering about the wedding.  Drake's family had been arriving from all over the world for three days.  His family, it turned out, was huge, with four brothers, two sisters and innumerable cousins, as well as aunts, uncles, great aunts and uncles, second and third cousins, and two sets of grandparents.  It boggled the mind and they'd had to rent out a bigger space for the rehearsal dinner since everyone was going to be there.   Anya was past nervous and now moved in a perpetual state of hair-trigger hysteria.

Man, I'll be SO glad when this wedding is over, Oz thought.  He'd borne the brunt of Anya's nerves, being at the shop with her, and it had taxed even his remarkable calm.

Me too, really.  Everything seems so...unsettled.  Xander leaned back comfortably in Spike's embrace, watching Johnathan sneak glances at them - watching him shrink down on himself a little more.

Why don't I take him home?  Keep an eye on him?

Sure.  Can't do YOU any harm and I wanna know he's under lock and key.  Can just shove him down the cellar, Spike thought, and Xander grinned up at him.

"That's not nice, love."

"Not nice, am I?  And you love it."  Spike vamped - kissed him carefully, just nipping his lip a tiny bit.  Xander felt the shudder that went through Spike at the taste of his blood and he closed his eyes.

Go get those bastards and come home, love.  Need you.

Need you too.  Watch yourself, pet.  Don't let Pinky over there do anything stupid.

Nah - he's too freaked.  Think he's got some cracked ribs - if he does anything too stupid I'll just poke him.

Buffy came out of the training room pulling on her coat and stopped for a moment to talk to Dawn, who had been sitting with Tara.

"Okay - I'm ready to kick some ass.  Let's go, Spike."

"See you soon, love," Spike said, giving Xander a fast, final kiss and he and Buffy were gone.  Giles was locking up the office and tidying the counter and Ethan wandered over, shrugging on a sweater.

"Would you like us to come over for a while, Xander?  Make sure of the wards?"

"Oh, I think they're all right, Ethan.  Thanks though.  Did Wesley have anything new for you?"  Since the whole incident with Connor and their trip to L.A., Wesley had been in contact with Giles and Ethan almost every day with suggestions and tips.  So far they'd only made minimal headway.

"No, I'm afraid not.  Seems junior hasn't anymore leads than we do.  I imagine it's back to the Mother land for us, and soon."  Ethan looked - strained - and Xander frowned at him a little.

"Is something - wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, no - no..."  Ethan looked over at Tara and Dawn for a moment - flicked a glance at Oz, who was going up to the loft with a book.  "I'm just...it's the Hellmouth.  It constantly - weakens me.  It has its own...influence - its own aura.  I’m sure your little kitchen-witch knows all about it."  He smiled at Tara, and Xander didn't even take offense for her at the title.   Ethan had a very healthy respect for Tara's power and had made it quite clear that she was out of bounds as far as he was concerned.

"Anyway, it makes it - difficult.  I think a break from it, and the efforts of this coven - might just make me...more my old self."  Ethan grinned then - an expression every bit as wicked and gleeful as anything Spike could produce and Xander felt a tiny shudder go through him.  

"Just keep clear of Spike if you get back to your old self too much.  He doesn't have much patience and your...aura kinda bugs him."

"Oh I know that, dear boy," Ethan said, chuckling.  "Quite frankly, his devotion to you makes you the bigger threat.  You must have some powerful enchantment working for you, to have William the Bloody at your beck and call."

"Nothing as mysterious as all that," Xander said slowly, not liking that for some reason.

"Tell me what it was you did - that day here at the shop?  You said...taisbean.  It was...I felt something...very old.  Very strong.  And not - right."

"What do you mean, not right?" Xander asked.  He didn't mind telling the story about Jack, but Ethan was - being a little creepy.

"Oh - just..."  Ethan shuddered, his expressive face showing confusion, a little fear, and intense curiosity.   "It wasn't your power, per se - it was borrowed, I could tell...  But it was you, as well.  Oh, I can't explain this!"  Ethan raked his hand back through his hair and watched Oz come back down the stairs and go into the training room.  Giles followed him, asking about something and Dawn was showing Tara a schoolbook.  Johnathan was watching him and Ethan and Xander frowned at him a little.  He looked hastily away, feigning interest in Dawn's homework.

"Do you know about - the Sidhe, Ethan?"

"Do I -?  Yes, I do."

"Ask Giles, tonight.  He'll tell you."

"I will indeed," Ethan said, and suddenly he smiled, and his dark eyes twinkled.  "It's all right, dear boy.  I'm not trying to discover your secrets.  I just - want to know.  Curiosity killed the cat, they say, and I suppose I've lost three or so lives to it already."

"That's what Willow says, too - she just wants to know.  But I don't think she has nine lives," Xander said slowly, eyeing Ethan with suspicion.

"Your little Willow...she needs to be nipped in the bud, and soon.  I know what she wants - she wants to know and she wants to do.  Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to want to wait.  Not that I did."  Ethan sighed, his smile a little rueful, now.  "I did some unholy damage to myself when I was younger - to my soul.  As did we all.  I may never recover from it.  She's still untouched, mostly - she's got a chance.  I'm no - Pollyanna.  But she trifles with things even I never dared touch and - I like living in this world."  At Xander's stricken look, Ethan's expression softened, and he reached out hesitantly and patted Xander's shoulder.

"Don't worry.  Ripper can fix it, you know - him and his coven.  He won't let her fall from grace.  He knows how hard it is to climb back up, just as I do."  The glitter in Ethan's eyes wasn't tears - it was mirth.  He had admitted to incredible, dangerous, stupid things.  But he had never regretted living, and he was happy to go through his life like a super-ball, bouncing from here to there at a whim.  His time on the Hellmouth - with the Initiative, too - had made him a bit more cautious, but no less alive.  Xander admired that in the man even if his love of chaos made Xander wary.

"Yeah - I think she'll be okay..."  Xander hesitated, and then he smiled.  Ethan, in his own way, was being comforting.  "Thanks, Ethan.  I guess we'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight then," Ethan said, and he looked up as Giles came over.

"Ready to go?  Oz is going to close for me.  And I'm in the mood for a dinner I don't have to cook - sound good, Ethan?"

"Sounds lovely, Ripper." Ethan grinned that Cheshire-cat grin and Giles grinned back and they went out.  Xander wandered over to the girls.

"So - ladies.  I do believe there's a pizza calling our names!  Care to go home and keep it company?"

"Yes!"  Dawn bounced a little and started gathering books, stuffing them in her backpack while Tara did the same at a slightly less manic pace.

"Actually there's some soup Derio and I made in the 'fridge and some bread from the co-op - I think that would taste better than pizza."  Dawn and Xander exchanged looks but they knew it was hopeless - Tara had an iron will and she thought that 'the boys' fed Dawn too much junk food.

"I bow to your superiority, oh magical Witch of the Kitchen," Xander said, laughing and giving Tara a bow and she smiled at him and linked her arm through Dawn's.

"As it should be," she murmured and Dawn whooped laughter.

"See you later, Oz!" Dawn yelled, and Oz popped his head up from behind the counter.

"See you guys."  Be careful.  Call if -

I will.  Love you.    "Come on, Johnathan, we're going!" They went out into the twilight, heading home.

"So he just - flew away?  With a jetpack?"  Xander couldn't help smiling in disbelief and Buffy shook her head, smiling back.

"Yeah.  A jetpack.  And he left Andrew behind, crying his head off.  The cops took him.  Warren was pretty freaked out when I - smashed his orbs."  Spike laughed and Buffy blushed, flicking some of her punch at him.  "Stop that!  There's just no good way to say it."

"Got that right," Spike smirked.  "But it finished his little power trip."  He leaned back in his chair, idly toying with a cigarette, watching with wary eyes the crowd that milled all around.  The wedding rehearsal had gone off without a hitch, and so had the dinner after.  But Drake's family was not only huge, they knew - everything.  All night various cousins had been coming up, begging Spike to show them his 'real' face and he'd finally snapped and done it, to a round of disconcerting applause.  Now he was sulking and letting Xander tell the cousins - who ranged in age from 2 to 19 - to go away.  Dawn was in the center of a knot of more cousins, basking in the attention as they asked her question after question about life on the Hellmouth.  She was the expert, for once, and loving it.  Especially since tall, dark-haired, and attractive seemed to be the norm for Drake's family.

Giles and Ethan were in the center of an equally excited but more subdued group of older aunts, uncles, the grandparents and the parents as they talked about the Watchers' Council and its role in preserving the 'cultural heritage' of non-humans.  Giles was hotly defending the killing of demons and Drake's father, grandfather, great-aunt Mabel and assorted older cousins were arguing that it was the same approach used by 'European invaders' the world over to decimate native life.  Drake's family, by and large, were archeologists - the Indiana Jones family! Willow called them - and had documented historical atrocities for years. That demons didn't qualify as 'native', at least by Council standards, seemed to be a moot point to them and there was already talk about some of the younger cousins training to be Watchers and bringing the Council 'into the 21st Century'.  

Anya and Drake were oblivious to the whole debate; swaying dreamily on the small dance-floor to something slow and forties, gazes and hands locked together.

Huh.  Who'd have thought - a Vengeance Demon finds love.   Oz watched the two with a small smile, leaning back against Derio and idly stroking his fingers over Derio's encircling arms.

Yeah.  It's nice.  I hope Drake really GETS what that means.

I think I made it pretty clear.   Spike could smirk mentally, which was unfair as far as Xander was concerned.

Oh, probably.  He was actually looking a little green, which I didn't think was possible.   Xander watched the two moving slowly around and around and sighed, just a little.

Care to dance, love?    Spike looked at Xander with a small, sweet smile and Xander felt his heart pound just a little faster.

"Love to," he murmured, and they both got up and moved out onto the floor.  The lights were dimmer here and there were green and gold balloons drifting lazily in a slight breeze from the air ducts.  Spike pulled him close and settled his head on Xander's shoulder, arms around his ribs and his hands slowly stroking up and down.  Xander did the same, wrapping himself around Spike and getting lost in the music and the sensation - in the warm wave of love you love you mine yours from Spike.

Love you, vampire-mine.  Always love you.

Love you...  Pet - do you want this?  What demon-girl is doing, I mean.   Xander pulled back minutely, looking with surprise at Spike, who looked back steadily.  After a moment he leaned his head back down on Spike's, the soft hair smelling of ginger and smoke and citrus.

I...no.  I never really thought about it but...  What we are - what we have - is MORE than marriage.  I don't need any...ceremony.  Did you -?

Nah.  But you seemed...felt like you were sad, love.   Felt...

I guess I am, a little.  Manny called this morning, said - anytime we want to go, Seattle's ready.  We can just - go.   Spike froze in his arms and than hugged him tight, and Xander could feel the joy and the excitement rising in him.

That's good news, love!  Don't be sad.

I just...don't think Tara will come.  And I'm going to miss her - miss Buffy and Giles...and fuck, miss Dawn so much...and there's never been a time when Willow wasn't just...down the street from me, you know?

I know, love.  Spike kissed slowly up Xander's throat and then lay soft kisses all over his face, ending at his mouth and taking his time.  Xander just held on and let him do it - let himself sink into the love and the want and the need.  He hated the thought of leaving part of the family behind.  Hated that he felt as if he were abandoning Buffy and Dawn.  But they had to go, before things got worse.  Had to get out and figure out how to make Spike better, because the Hellmouth - seemed determined to suck them in, and Xander couldn't let that happen, no matter what.

God, love you, LOVE you...  You know it'll be fine.  We'll go and we'll do what we have to do and...Seattle's not too far away and it'll be summer soon, Dawn can come stay and...Tara would probably visit too...  God...is this right?  Are we just - running away?   Spike's kiss faltered for a moment and then he pulled away and gazed at Xander, his hands lightly on Xander's shoulders, fingertips stroking the ends of his hair.

"No love.  Not running away.  The Slayer doesn't need us, not really.  We just take the edge off, but - half the demons here are just trying to live, they don't bother her.  And this business with the Threesome - it's made 'em all a little more willing to stand up and fight."  Spike kissed him again, gentle as before, and Xander realized they were barely moving - that they must look a little odd to everyone.  But he really didn't care.

"I just want this to be...over, Spike.  I want whatever happened you to be fixed.  I hate seeing you hurt...  And I'd go - anywhere - if that's what it took.  Go to the fucking moon."  Spike laughed softly, hugging him close.

Maybe we will, love.  Go to the moon.  They did it once, didn't they?  In a hundred years...who knows?

You think?   Xander was distracted for a moment by the thought - the idea that Star Trek could become a reality and that he could see it.  See it with Spike.  "There's no sun in space.  You'd be safe."  Spike laughed again and spun him around.

You're such a geek.  Love you, geek-boy.  Take you to the moon - wherever you wanna go.  It'll be all right, love.

Yeah.  Yeah, I know.  Love you, vampire-mine.

The wedding was set for sunset and Spike and Xander slept in - the whole house did - since the rehearsal dinner had run very late, with the older crowd getting a little drunk and the younger ones running wild.  When Spike woke up it was to Xander humming something slightly off-key and an aroma of cherries and chocolate in the air.  Spike stretched and turned over and stared.  Xander was lying on his back, and there were little chocolates in a heart-shape on his chest.  He was nibbling on one contemplatively and a drop of red syrup lay like blood in the corner of his mouth.  His cock was hard and damp, tight against his belly.  Spike breathed in deeply, scenting sweet and spice and arousal, and felt his own cock rising and filling.

"Xan, love?  What are you doing?"

"These are kind of like - like biting into a person, huh?  Yummy on the outside, red and squishy inside?"  Xander grinned at him and Spike grinned back, confused but delighted.

"If you say so, love, though I'd rather bite you than chocolate any day."  Spike moved carefully until he was lying between Xander's thighs, the hot flesh of his erection pressed to Spike's belly.  Spike's own cock brushed teasingly at Xander's balls and the curve of his ass, and he wriggled a little.

"It's Valentine's Day, Spike.  Gotta have chocolate and hearts.  So - here you go."  Xander lifted his arms and crossed his hands behind his head and Spike laughed softly - bent his head to slowly lick and nibble at the chocolate that made the point of the heart.  Licking and nibbling at the skin beneath it, as well.  Xander was right, chocolate-covered cherries were a little like people, but Spike was right, too - he preferred Xander.  It was satisfyingly sweet and messy sex and they both laughed until their stomachs hurt when Buffy stormed upstairs to make them get up and stared for one long moment at the smeary bed and the sticky lovers.  Then she wheeled and darted back down the hall, threatening them both with something awful - she'd ask Dawn for ideas! - if they didn't get going now.

"That dress looks no better in the day," Spike said, and hauled Xander along to the bath.

The wedding had been over for two days and they were still eating left-over wedding food and cake.  Spike wrinkled his nose at the cake and sighed.  He'd agreed to help the Slayer go over her house with a fine-toothed comb.  Johnathan had told them that Warren had planted cameras outside the house and inside, and to Buffy's horror Johnathan had admitted that he'd seen everyone in the house in their underwear.  Xander had about strangled the boy and for once Spike found himself on the calmer end of things, telling Xander he had to wait, that they still needed Johnathan - still needed information.  It had been a close thing.

They'd been all over the second floor and found two tiny cameras which Buffy had torn out in disgust.  Now they were taking a break.  Tara and Dawn were upstairs going through some of Tara's things that she hadn't moved yet, and Willow was downstairs with him and the Slayer, chattering about classes and generally getting on Spike's nerves.  She pointedly did things without magic and mentioned more than once how hard giving it up had been and Spike was about to snap.

Calm, love, please?  I'll be there in a few.

Thank gods.  I'm not going to forgive and forget and it's obvious that's what she wants.  

Just - don't say anything.  She really is doing better, so just...have a smoke?   Spike chuckled to himself and then frowned when Willow gave him an odd look.

"Talkin' to Xan," he said shortly, and then it was her turn to frown.

"I don't know why Xander wants to have -" Willow started, and Spike shot to his feet, his patience at an end.

"Leave it, Red!  Don't start with me today."  Willow's mouth opened and closed for a minute and then she scowled, and Buffy heaved a heavy sigh.

"Can you two stop that?  It's like Divorce Court in here.   Let's just finish up and find the rest of the cameras.  I can't believe that freak saw us..."  Buffy shuddered and Spike growled.  He agreed with the Slayer on that, at least.  When he found Warren, the little bastard was gonna lose his eyes for looking at the Niblet like that.  And that Andrew - he was going to suffer as well.

"Freak is right.  Let's go," Spike said, pushing away from the kitchen counter and stalking into the living room.  He looked around, wondering what piece of bric-a-brac or family photo had been tainted with a little spying eye.  He heard the rumble of Xander's truck and a minute later the door opened and Xander walked in, smiling as soon as he saw Spike.  It was like a ray of pure heat.

Love you.   Spike moved immediately to hug him, breathing deeply the mingled smells of clean wood and varnish, sweat and coffee and sweet.  Smell so good...just want to eat you...   Xander hugged him back and laughed softly - claimed his mouth in a hard, hungry kiss.

I like that.  Nibble, nibble, nibble...   He nipped at Spike's mouth and then pulled back, still grinning.  "Hey, there was some guy outside - was there a delivery?  He was just going around the side of the house.

"No guy," Buffy said, coming into the living room, a small china figure in her hands.  Willow bent to peer out the window and then Spike snarled because Warren was standing there in the kitchen doorway.

"You think you can just - ruin my life and get away with it?!" he shouted, and he pointed - no, he lifted a gun and Spike roared, diving for him.  The gun exploded and something hit Spike hard, spinning him around, making him stumble.  Willow shrieked and he could smell blood - too much blood.   The gun fired again and Xander was shouting something and Spike dragged himself up in time to hear running footsteps - see Dawn and Tara pelt down the stairs.  The booming roar of the gun seemed to echo and roll, not stopping, deafening him.  Then Tara was falling, red blooming across her chest and Dawn was screaming and he turned to find Warren, to kill him and he was gone.  A haze of smoke and the stink of cordite filled the air and Spike staggered upright and ran, through the kitchen to the door, stopping in fury and agony when sunlight seared across his face and chest.

"Spike!  Don't -"   Xander snatched him back, reeling, and Spike stared for one moment at the blood on his boy's arm - on his chest.

"Xander - fuck - are you -"   No, no - love, no -

"I'm okay, I'm - fuck - where's the phone, Buffy and Tara - f-fuck -"  Xander's legs went out from under him and Spike saw the phone on the kitchen island - snatched it up and dialed.  He dropped to the floor next to Xander, pulling him half onto his lap, holding him tight.

Coming coming coming!  Who's hurt!   Oz, getting louder, frantic, and Spike didn't know what to tell him, could barely think what to do when the operator's voice came on the line.

"Shot.  Three people have been shot," he said, and I don't know, don't know, Xan's shot, Tara, the Slayer, oh fuck, maybe Dawn, maybe Willow I don't KNOW -     The operator was saying something - 'ambulances on the way' and Spike let the phone drop from nerveless fingers.  He looked down and realized he had been shot - that his rib was broken and that the blood down his belly and thighs was his own.

"Spike?  Spike!"  Dawn was screaming - running into the kitchen and Spike heaved himself and Xander upright.

"Bit - it's all right, I called - they're coming -"

Spike!  Xander!   The front door slammed open, cracking into the wall and Pack pack pack.  

"Oz is here, Bit, let's -"

"Fuck, I can w-walk, I'm - I can walk, Spike -"    All right, I'm all right, just my arm...  Xander staggered and Spike held him, wincing in pain.  The three of them went as quickly as they could out into the living room.  Oz was crouched over Tara, his fingers on her throat, and Dawn flung herself down beside Buffy, wailing.  Blood was bubbling up out of the Slayer's mouth and she was pale, so pale.  

"Jesus - where's - where's Willow?  Is she - ?"

"She was outside - she was running - she looked like...she had blood on her..."  Oz stroked the hair back from Tara's face and her eyes fluttered open - tracked dazedly.

"Hurts," she mumbled, and Oz shushed her, stroking her arm.

"It's okay - help is coming.  Is Buffy -?"

Spike was on his knees beside the Slayer.  The bullet had gone in high, missing her heart but shattering her collar-bone and Dawn was sobbing hoarsely into Buffy's hair, a death-grip on her hand.  He could hear the faint whistle of escaping air and knew her lung was nicked - was leaking air and maybe sucking up blood and where was the fucking ambulance!

"Buffy, don't die, don't die!  I can't take it, I can't take any more -"

"Shhhh, Dawn - it's okay, it's - gonna be okay."  Xander sprawled awkwardly, trying to hold Dawn.  His left arm was bleeding and Spike could see the black edges where gunpowder had burned his shirt.  

"Wolf, how's the witchling?  What happened?"

"I don't know - it's low down - her ribs - I can't tell!"  Oz's eyes were full of pain - of fear, and his blood-slick hands were pressed to Tara's side, high under her breast.

Be all right, be all right, fuck...fuck...it was that Warren, it was -

"Where the fuck did Red go?" Spike growled, yanking a throw off of the couch and covering Buffy.  She was going into shock and he could do nothing at all.  He strode to the hall closet and found a blanket for Tara, covering her carefully and cupping her cheek in his hand.  She was blinking, tears coursing silently down her face, and he tried to wipe them away but stopped when he saw he was smearing blood on her.   Spike looked helplessly - furiously - around the room.

"Sh-she said she was gonna kill him.  She said she was gonna get - enough p-power to send him to h-hell," Dawn stuttered, shivering in Xander's arms, and Spike looked at her - nodded, finally, and sagged in relief to hear the approaching sirens.

Fuck, Red - hope you do.  Hope you do.

14 Rage

Spike ran, darting through Sunnydale Below like a fish through black water.   He could feel the blood on his shirt, cold and sticky - he could hear Xander in his head.

Hurts, hurts, fuck - are they all right?   Is Tara all right?  Won't tell me...   Taking too long - FUCK, needle - Spike...    Spike snarled, running faster.  He had to get to the hospital before the ambulances - had to get some damn blood.  Xander had panicked at the thought of the EMT's seeing him and trying to help him - trying to get his vitals - and he'd picked up a piece of broken glass off the floor and cut his arm, holding it out.

"Drink it, Spike, damnit!  They're gonna give me blood anyway and you can't be bleeding when they get here!   Just do it, fucking do it -"   tears in his eyes and his other arm tight around Dawn and Spike had drunk, shaking, taking in fear and despair and pain with every mouthful.  He'd pulled away as soon as he could and then Oz was calling him, urging him to hurry.  Pulling his shirt down away from his neck and telling him to drink, NOW, Xander was right, just DO it and he had.  Knowing puncture marks from his fangs would be too much to try and explain away but hating that Xander was hurt more, now, blood pulsing sluggishly over his hand and dripping onto the living room carpet.

But it wasn't enough, for the kind of damage that gun had caused.  He'd stopped bleeding - he'd been able to pass the mess off as Buffy's blood, Tara's, Xander's, and they'd let it go.  He'd called the Watcher and told him to get to the hospital - called Derio, who'd been on his way anyway, his knowing telling him something was wrong, just like before.    The EMT's had been quick, efficient, and practiced and Buffy had been whisked away first, a tube down her throat and IV's already in place.  Her lips tinged blue and the broken ends of her collarbone a dull ivory gleam against the scarlet of her blood.  

"Collapsed lung," the EMT muttered, and Dawn had fought to get in the ambulance, going white and furious and the man had taken pity on her and let her in.  Tara in the next one, oxygen mask on her face, IV for her as well, her side spattered with blood to the hip and her breath hitching in pain, erratic.  Broken ribs, furrowed flesh, and Xander had climbed in with her, a wad of gauze held to his arm, his pale face alarming them all.  

In the flurry of departures Derio had arrived in his little Honda, cursing in Spanish under his breath and pulling a gore-flecked Oz to him for a hard kiss.  Spike had slipped out and into the nearest sewer entrance - half a block away and thank fuck the sun was going down, the street was shady.   And now he dodged and ducked his way through the murk, nearly there, listening to Xander worry, to Oz trying to be calm.  The smell of death and blood and chemicals increased and Spike was under the hospital and finding an opening - climbing up and out into the dank sub-cellars that housed the boilers and generators and decades of abandoned, obsolete equipment.  He headed straight for the incinerator - where Xander had taken him so long ago, to buy him human blood and tell him, obliquely, that he cared.   As usual there was blood there, stacked in Styrofoam coolers, waiting for disposal.  Spike tore into them, drinking rapidly, ignoring the staleness, simply gorging himself so that his rib would heal and he could safely sit amongst the nurses and doctors without drawing unwanted attention.

Here, we're here, thank god.  Spike?  Oz and Derio are right behind us, there's Buffy - ow!  Damn, Dawn is -

I'm here, love, be right up, hold on -  Spike drained a last bag and flung it into the incinerator and then he was going up and up, finding his way easily through the labyrinth of corridors.  He could smell his family - could smell their blood - and he fought the demon back and down.  Let his soul soothe it and shush it and make it stop because the demon was close to losing it right there.  He finally found the right door and pushed through - felt his knees go weak with relief as he saw Oz and Derio and Dawn, huddled into plastic chairs in the chaotic ER.  He strode across to them, ignoring the shocked looks his appearance was getting.

Wolf, I'm here, I'm here.  Where's Xan, where -

Stitches, he's okay I guess, family only back there...  Spike, fuck pack pack pack.   The wolf was desperate to be free and Oz was fighting it for all he was worth.  Spike took a last few steps and then collapsed to his knees, pulling Oz into a hard embrace.   A moment later he could feel Dawn's hand on his shoulder and he freed an arm to include her, fear sorrow no no no in the link from her.   Dawn shuddered against him, crying softly, and Spike pushed his face into Oz's neck for a moment, just breathing, and then he looked up - reached out and snagged Derio in as well, family family pack need you, the demon doing its best to include him.

A hesitant cough made Spike look up, snarling, and the Watcher held his hand up, standing there looking pale and lost.

"Giles, Buffy was -"   Dawn buried her face in Spike's shoulder again and Giles' mouth compressed to a thin, hard line.

"Yes, yes I know, do you know - anything?"  Spike stood up slowly, transferring Dawn to Oz, letting his fingers linger for a moment on Oz's shoulder, Derio's hand.  He jerked his chin up, indicating over there, and he and Giles walked to the other side of the waiting room where Ethan stood, looking ill and uncomfortable and distinctly nervous.

"Slayer's bad.  Lung collapsed, broken bone -"   Spike indicated his collarbone and Giles' mouth opened and then snapped shut again.  "Tara, she was shot in the ribs - don't know how bad, she was awake...  Xander..."  Spike blinked - took a hard breath, calming himself, calming the demon.  "Got hit in the arm.  Not too bad.  They're all - back there somewhere."  He indicated the trauma rooms that lined one hallway.    "Won't let us back."  He dug out his cigarettes and lighter - lit up and inhaled hard.  His hand was shaking - was smeared with blood - and Giles stared at the dried-black streaks for a moment, silent.  Ethan reached out and put his hand gently on Giles' shoulder and Giles blinked - looked around at him and smiled faintly.

"Yes, well - I...  I am listed as next-of-kin on Buffy's paperwork so I'll - I'll go and see what's happening and - see if they'll tell me about - about the others."

"You do that, Watcher.  Oz said - Red ran out of the house.  Talking about power - talking about sending that Warren bastard to hell.  She's not here, Rupert."  Giles' eyes went wide and Ethan scowled.  He stepped up a little closer, and his pallor had taken on a tinge of green.

"Ripper-love, this place - is making me ill.  Why don't I go to the shop, see if - if I can find out what she's up to?"  He tried to sound off-hand but his voice was shaking and when a doctor in a white coat walked by, brushing his arm accidentally, he flinched hard away and shut his eyes.  Spike could hear his heart - could see the sweat sheening his skin.  Ethan's magic - his self - that was under fragile control at best had gotten loose and the seething wrongness of it made the demon snarl - made it want to bite and tear.  That in itself told Spike how close to the edge Ethan was, here, because just lately he'd gotten very good at controlling the residual magics that crackled around him.

Calm, calm, calm, from Oz, and It's okay, it's okay, ouch, fuck - from Xander.

Man's gonna lose it.  Send him off, Ripper, we don't need his chaos here, anyway.

"I think - that would be best, Ethan, thank you," Giles said softly.  He leaned over and kissed the mage - cupped his cheek for a moment and then Ethan was turning and striding rapidly out, his face grim, his hands in fists.  Giles watched him go for a moment and then turned back to Spike, who was intent on inhaling the last inch of his cigarette.

"I'll go see what I can find out.  I'll be back soon."

"Right," Spike muttered, and Giles walked over to the admitting desk, dredging up a faint smile for the harried-looking woman working there.  Spike finished his cigarette and pinched it out - shoved the butt into his pocket.  He went back over to the others and settled down in a chair, hands deep in his pockets.  Waiting, and he hated that.

Xander, love - you all right?

I'm okay, I’m just...   They're working on Buffy...fuck...   A brief flash of the Slayer, naked on white sheets with a towel over her hips, blood like a shawl over her shoulder and chest, dripping on the floor.  Machines, noise, a swarm of scrub-suited men and woman buzzing around her with gloved hands and masks.  There was a flinch in the link - Oz - and Spike felt blindly for his hand and squeezed it.

Slayer constitution, love, she'll be all right.  Can you see Glinda?

A little - she's not - not as hurt as Buffy, but -  A similar scene, a little more subdued, Tara wincing and talking to a doctor, hands and drapes and machinery around her like bizarre apostles.   Xander was in the middle room, and no-one had thought to shut the blinds over the big windows that flanked him.

God, I hate this.  Wish I could leave...  Xander was keeping calm by the thinnest of margins and Spike shut his eyes and concentrated, sending as much calm - as much love and reassurance - as he could muster.  He wished they could just go home, too, but he knew they couldn't - knew they'd be here for hours, or days, and Xander had to calm down.  The human was faint from blood loss - from the after-effects of the adrenalin surge - and feeling nauseated.  The smells and sounds weren't helping and Oz was suddenly there, singing something into the link. Low, wordless hum, part of the chant he used to keep the wolf at bay and Spike let it wash over him and calm him - opened wide to it and just waited, eyes shut.  It was all they could do.

A half-hour later Spike surreptitiously pulled his t-shirt off his ribs and grimaced as the dried blood unstuck from the raw, new skin of the gun-shot wound.   Beside him Oz twitched and glanced over - put out a hand and let it rest on Spike's knee.  Spike took it and squeezed, grateful.  Dawn was sitting huddled into his other side and he stroked her shoulder over and over, unconsciously humming Oz's wolf-chant under his breath.  

Derio pushed in through the doors at the end of the hall, soda cans and cookies in his arms and he sat on the magazine-strewn table in front of them, putting the packages down.

"Hey, Dawn - why don't you try and have some of this?  Make you feel a little more steady, huh gatito?"  Dawn's hands, curled over the hard plastic of the chair arm, were shaking, shaking, shaking, and Spike nudged her a little, making her sit up fractionally.

"Have a bite, poppet.  We'll be here a while yet - don’t want to fall out before you get to see big sis, do you?"  Dawn's eyes - dark and wet and bloodshot - gazed up at him blankly and then she blinked and shifted - put one foot tentatively on the floor and leaned forward.  Derio opened a soda for her and held it out - opened a miniature pack of cookies and she took one, nibbling slowly, sipping in miniscule mouthfuls.    Sugar and carbohydrates, natural tranquilizers so maybe she could relax a little - maybe wake up.  The link from her was numb - whisper-faint and full of utter despair.   He could feel Xander, who was finally getting stitches - who was tranked up on Demerol or something so that his thoughts were skittery and strange.  

Loud, that was loud, makes my head - Spike?  You there?  It's not...is this what it's like when - Spike?  Where's Oz?  Why can't you...  Spike?  I can't see you, I - need to...

Love, love, I'm right here, I'm just waiting for you.  Get you all fixed up right and then I'll be there, love, just -

Spike?  Fuckin' cold, I...   Spike stood with a snarl, taking three fast steps towards the hallway and the trauma rooms before Oz's hands were on his arm - around his waist.  Oz got in front of him and stopped him - held him tight and flooded his senses with Pack pack stay here pack love you stay here stay here safe, he's safe, pack pack pack.   Scent of earth and pine, scent of blood, fucking blood.  Xander's and Tara's and Buffy's blood all mingled and Spike stared down at the werewolf, shuddering.

"Don't, Spike.  Come sit back down, okay?"  Soft voice, pleading eyes, and Spike slumped a little and pulled Oz close - hugged him, his face pressed into the prickly-soft hair, his body pressed against the small bones and warm flesh.  Oz's hands rubbed up and down his back, slow caress and Spike finally sighed and backed off a little - let Oz turn him and tug him back to the chairs where Dawn was eating like a little zombie mouse and Derio was tight-lipped and furious - as scared and as angry and as helpless as they were.  Derio watched Dawn for a moment and then turned to Spike, a small frown on his face.

"Where's that Johnathan?" he asked softly, and Spike had to think about that.

"No idea, mate."

"He's at the shop today," Oz said, elbows on knees, looking utterly worn.  He lifted his head and looked at them, his eyes dark-circled.  "He was going to do some inventory.   I think he's trying to get us to....keep him.  Make himself useful."

"Never happen," Spike muttered, tipping his head back to stare blindly at the ceiling.

Giles had disappeared into the warren of rooms somewhere beyond the waiting area and no one would talk to them.  Spike was ready to get up and start shouting - or smashing - something, when he felt Oz stiffen beside him and looked around for whatever new threat had arrived.

Ah, bloody hell, the filth.  Just what we need.  Two Sunnydale police officers stood at the admitting desk, flashing badges and asking questions, and the duty-nurse pointed over at their group.  Spike felt the growl rumbling up out of his chest and beside him Oz took a long, slow breath.

CALM!  Calm down.  I'll talk, I'll tell them what they need to know.  Don't do anything, Spike, Oz thought, his hand tight in Spike's, his wolf-scent getting stronger as his own control slipped for a split-second.

Do my best.  Keep it simple, wolf.   The officers walked over and stood there for a moment, just staring.  Spike knew what they saw - three blood-soaked people, pale, shaken, and about done-in, and Derio who was bristling like a pissed-off cat the longer the stare went on.

"Hello.  I'm Detective Eric Watson," the first one said, a tall, thin man with salt-and-pepper hair and glasses.    "This is my partner, Ron Moore."  Detective Moore was also tall, but built like a bull with a fringe of gingery hair around his head and a nose askew from being broken.  They both wore crumpled, dark-colored suits and stank, to Spike, of stale sweat and cigarette smoke, grease and blood and chemicals.    "You were involved in a shooting today?  Care to tell us what happened?"  Watson pushed his glasses up, blinking at them.

"Victims of a shooting," Derio muttered, and Watson glanced at him.  

"Your name, sir?"  Moore pulled out a little notebook and flipped it open - got a pen and sat heavily on the low table across from them.  Dawn stared blankly and lifted a cookie to her mouth, eating it slowly.        

"Desiderio Padovani.  I wasn't there when it happened," he said shortly, and Oz reached over and grabbed his hand, pulling it into his lap and lacing their fingers together.  The detective's eyes flickered at that but he said nothing.  Spike pulled out his cigarettes again and lit one, desperate for something to distract him.

"You can't smoke in here," Moore said, pointing over his shoulder at a red 'No Smoking Allowed' sign and Spike took a long drag and blew the smoke in his face, feeling that utter stillness that came over him when he was on the verge of mayhem.

"Piss. Off," Spike growled, and Watson reached for his cigarette, scowling.  Spike felt the demon rising, and Oz did, because he intercepted Watson's hand, stopping him cold and obviously surprising the man with his strength.

"He'll put it out.  It's been a rough day, okay?"  Watson withdrew his hand slowly and Oz looked over at Spike, tipping his head a little.

Put it out, okay?  We'll do this and they'll go.  

"Yeah, all right," Spike grumbled, taking a last hard hit and then grinding the smoke out on his heel.  He shoved the butt into his pocket and glared at the officers, who stared back.

"Now," Watson said, settling his tie and taking a deep breath, "why don't you tell me -?"

"Xander."   Spike was up and out of his chair, knocking into Watson and ignoring his yelp of surprise.  Xander stood unsteadily in the hall, his arm bandaged and up in a sling, his face shockingly pale despite a transfusion.  There were still smudges of blood down his cheek and on both hands, and his jeans were stained with dark spots and streaks.  His shirt was gone and he had a scrub-shirt on, the sleeve split so his bandaged upper arm would fit through. Spike just grabbed him and held on, face buried in his neck and arms tight around him, hugging him from the side a little so he wouldn't crush Xander's hurt arm.

Bloody hell, about time, you all right, love?  You look knackered, gotta get you home and in bed, love, god, love you love you love you...   Spike knew he was babbling - didn't care.  Just wanted his boy, just wanted Xander; smell of wood and spice and sunshine, smell of home.  Xander's right arm was tight around him, and his lips were against Spike's neck, moving as he murmured softly.  

"Love you, it's all right, hush, love, I'm all right, love you, love you...."   Love you love you pack pack pack.

"Christ."  Spike pulled back finally - pushed his hand back through Xander's hair, feeling the stiff strands where blood and sweat had dried, matting it.  Xander wobbled a little and Spike held him, frowning.

"You guys okay?  Did Giles find out anything?" Xander asked, and Spike shook his head.

"We're fine.  Nothing yet, he's still back there.  Ethan went to try and track Willow - she's out hunting Warren."  Xander's eyes went wide and then he looked over Spike's shoulder.

"Fuck.  The cops.  Never around when you need them..."  He sighed deeply, and Spike ghosted light little kisses over his cheeks and lips.

"Yeah.  Gotta tell 'em what's what and then they'll go.  You up to it, love?"

"Yeah.  You stay right with me," Xander murmured, and Spike kissed him again, slow kiss on the mouth, and they finally turned and went slowly back over to the chairs.

"Xander?" Dawn said, staring at him, and Xander sank down in a crouch in front of her, ignoring the detectives.

"I'm right here, Dawnie.  You okay?"

"Where's Buffy?  Is she okay?  Nobody'll tell me -"   Dawn blinked, and tears streamed down her face unnoticed.  Spike crouched down as well, wiping the tears off her face with his thumb.

"She's fine, Dawn, just fine.  She's hurt so they have to help her, and it takes a while is all.  She'll be just fine, okay?  Promise."   Pain in the link, and fear - flashes of Buffy being wheeled away, and Spike wanted to put his fist through the wall - through something, because there was too much pain, too much despair, and Oz and Xander and Dawn were drowning in it.

Hold it together, damnit, just -

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but we really do need to ask some questions," Watson said, sounding anything but sorry, and Spike was standing fast, feeling his lips going back, feeling his hands spread and stiffen in anticipation of - something.  Of tearing the man's heart out and shoving it down his partner's throat.

"Spike!"  Xander shoved bodily into him - Oz did from the other side, just crowding him, distracting him, sending so hard through the link he cringed, just a little.  The detectives were looking irritated and ready to blow - Dawn was sending nothing but fear through the link and Spike shut his eyes and just let them do it - let them soothe the demon, smooth his rough edges down - let the soul take control so thoroughly that for a moment Spike felt dizzy.  Then he opened his eyes again and looked at Xander.  Exhaustion, fear, grief, and a desperate pleading in his boy's eyes.

"I’m sorry, love.  So sorry.  Be all right now, yeah?  I'll just -"   Spike sank down slowly into the chair that was behind him and Xander came around and sat next to him, hand tight in his.  Dawn on the other side, and then Oz was sitting as well, and Derio, all of them shaking with reaction - desperate to get this over with.  The detectives exchanged looks - cleared throats.  Started with the questions.

"I really don't know," Xander said, for about the third time, and he could feel the hyena pushing, pushing.  He was so tired and his arm felt as if it were on fire, pulsing flame with every heartbeat.  His head was pounding, he was hungry and nauseated at the same time, and Dawn looked ready to collapse.  Spike was shredding his way through his fourth magazine, his teeth gritted so hard Xander could feel the ache in the link and Oz was starting to get snappish.  Even Derio seemed to be hanging by a thread, and he kept turning and looking over his shoulder as if expecting someone to walk up and touch him - or hit him.

"Does this Warren have any friends in town?  A place he could stay?" Watson asked, and Xander should his head.

"The only friend I know about is Andrew, and he's in jail right here in Sunnydale.  Why don't you go ask him -"   Watson's phone beeped suddenly and he held up hand and flipped it open - stood up and moved a few paces away.  Xander felt Spike stiffen beside him and he knew Spike could hear what was being said.  Xander could hear the other voice, as well, but he couldn't make out individual words over all the other noise - over his own heartbeat.

"Gotta go," Watson said shortly, and Moore stood up, shutting his little notebook and stuffing it away in a pocket.  "If you hear anything, give me a call, all right?  We'll be in touch."  Watson held out a business card and after a moment Xander took it, nodding.  The two men hurried away and Xander slumped back in the chair, his back screaming in protest.

"Fuck," he muttered, and Spike's hand slid over his lower back, rubbing gently.  "What was that about?"

"Seems someone is at the jail.  Seems someone is busting the place up."  Spike looked grimly pleased and it took Xander a moment to figure out what he meant.

"Oh, fuck.  Willow?  Is it - do you think it's Willow?"

"Something is going on," Derio hissed, leaning over Oz and looking a little spooked.  "It all feels - it feels wrong.  If Willow is looking for power, she's found it, and she's using it."  Derio's knowing was something like a spider-web:  it stretched far, but Derio only got the distant vibration of actions and reactions - enough to tell him things were happening, not enough to tell him exactly what, or where.  Although it had gotten fairly accurate if the 'something' involved any member of his adopted family.

"Jesus.  What in hell are we gonna do?"

"Nothing," Spike said, and his eyes were gleaming gold, looking surreal in the flat fluorescent light.  "Let her have her power, and let her have her revenge.  He needs seeing to, anyway."

"But - if she's at the jail she's - she must be going after Andrew.  And he didn't shoot anybody..."  Xander felt fear - a cold, skittering sensation - washing over him.  Willow had pushed limits before.  And now - fueled by anger - who knew what she would do?  

What if she can't stop?  What if she hurts innocent people?  We have to -

Don't have to do anything, love.   Spike looked grimly satisfied at the idea of Willow extracting revenge, but Xander could feel the demon, and it wanted to join in - it wanted to urge Willow to a rampage and cut a swath through the milling cattle of Sunnydale.   Whatever Willow was doing - it was broadcasting far and wide, and Xander could feel it through the demon - through Oz, and it was slowly but surely putting them all on edge.

Don't, Spike!  You can't - do that.  WE can't.  We have to make sure Tara and Dawn are all right - we have to make sure BUFFY is -

"Protect them," Spike muttered, and the demon meant 'take out all enemies, no mercy'.  

"Fuck," Xander didn't know what to do - felt relief as Giles came down the hallway finally, looking rumpled and tired, frowning.

"Giles - thank god - what's going on?"  They all stood up, even Dawn, clustering around the older man and Giles rubbed wearily at his forehead.

"It's all good news - it's good news, Dawn.  Buffy had to have surgery.  The - the bullet hit her lung and she was having trouble breathing...  They had to repair the damage and - and fix her collarbone, it was badly shattered...  She's in recovery right now, she's still asleep.  We can - see her in a little while."  Dawn gave a sort of breathless 'ooh!' and darted forward to cling to Giles, hugging him hard.  Giles slowly put his arms around her and held her, and then looked wearily up at them again.

"Tara is fine, she's....  The bullet cracked two ribs and then traveled...she was standing just right and - it went around her ribcage, along the - bone.  Very painful and - a lot of muscle and tissue damage but she's - she's fine.  She was in surgery, as well, but...   She's asleep, now - they've got her on a rather high dose of pain medication."  Giles rubbed his forehead again and sighed.

"The police said that no one could go back into the - house for a few days, so..."

"Dawn can stay with us, Giles, no problem.  She's even got clothes there.  How long...will Buffy be here?"  Xander reached out and patted Giles' shoulder and the Watcher smiled briefly at him.  Spike shifted restlessly and Xander leaned into him, making the vampire concentrate on him - trying to keep him there - keep him calm.  He could sense it was a losing battle.

"I think - Buffy will be here for a week, at least.  Maybe longer.  Her Slayer constitution will make any stay shorter, but...she'll need time to recover.  She's going to be just fine."  Giles said the last to Dawn, who nodded into his arm, still hugging him.

"Thanks, Giles," Oz said softly, and Giles nodded.  

"I think it would be best if we all went home and - got clean.  Changed."  Giles was looking rather pointedly at Spike and Xander, and Xander nodded.  He could smell the blood, even dry, and it was contributing in no small part to his continuing nausea.  "And then we can come back here and - and be here when Buffy and Tara wake up."  Giles ran a slow hand down Dawn's back - gently got her to let go of him.

"Will you be all right, Dawn, going home with Xander and - and Spike?  You need to change out of those clothes before you can see Buffy."

"Yeah, I'm fine - I'll be fine."  Dawn wiped her eyes and forced a smile and Xander hugged his arm around her shoulders.

"We'll take care of her, Giles.  Okay."  He looked around at his family and could see they were all as ready to leave as he was.   "Let's just go."  Giles nodded, sighing a little.  

"I'm going to go by the shop, see if Ethan knows anything, or if Willow has turned up.  I'll...I'll see you all later."  Xander smiled faintly, hugging Dawn close, and they all turned and walked out of the ER.  Oz's van was off to one side and he plucked the parking ticket off the windshield with a bit of a snarl, shoving it into his pocket.  Xander helped Dawn up into the back of the van and climbed in after her, Spike steadying him as he stumbled a little, off-balance.  
The drive home seemed to take forever and Xander leaned back against Spike and closed his eyes - wished that he could just sleep for a day or so.  Just let it all go.  But Dawn was trying her best to carry on a conversation with Oz and Derio, and he could still feel the tension that was zinging through Spike and making the vampire shiver all over, like he had a fever.  Xander sighed and sat up a little.

"We can get something delivered when we get home - try to eat."

"Yeah, I - I'm kinda hungry," Dawn said, eyes downcast as if she shouldn't be, and Spike finally broke out of his reverie, slipping an arm around Xander's waist.

"Course you are, Bit.   Nothing wrong with that."  Dawn's face, intermittently lit by streetlights looked relieved and she smiled, just a little   When did it get dark?  God, how long were we there?   .

They ordered Chinese while Dawn took a shower, and Spike paced around the house.  Something was pinging through the link - something was happening, in Sunnydale, and Xander was sure it was Willow.  Was afraid it was Willow.  Derio was restless and nervous and when Dawn came downstairs in fresh jeans and a sweater Oz snagged his boyfriend's arm and hustled him upstairs.

Sorry, gotta get him calm, we'll go fast, in the link, Oz getting Derio under the hot water and letting him scrub at dried blood.

It's okay.  Don't worry about it.   Xander picked at some soup - ate a few noodles - watched Spike smoke one cigarette after another.  Watched him drink longer and longer swallows from a bottle and felt the unease - the prickling of rage hate want want want that the demon seemed to be channeling from somewhere get stronger and stronger.  When the phone rang they all jumped, and Xander went to answer it as Derio and Oz thumped down the stairs.

"Hello?"

"Xander, it's Giles.  Willow - well, she was here.  She apparently got Andrew out of the jail and then she -"   Giles paused, and Xander felt a lurch of fear.

"What, Giles?"    Oz and Spike watched him, tense, listening.   Oz muttered something to Derio, who nodded slowly.

"She stole power - she's drained several books of - of everything.  She - tried to take energy from Ethan but his power...  Well, it doesn't work that way.  She's hurt him."  

"Damnit!  Fuck, Giles, I -"   Xander shut his eyes for a moment - gasped in surprise at the touch of fingers on his neck and then sighed as Spike wound his arms around him.  "Do you need help?  Do you -"

"No, I... "   There was a murmur - probably Ethan - and then Giles was back on the line.  "Yes.  Could you ask Oz - to please meet us here at the shop?  We need his help to find Willow.  And - and Spike as well.  The coven - sent me...something.  But it's going to take - a little time to work.   We need to - to find her.  We need to try and stop her.  Or at least, distract her."  Oz's eyes were black, and pack protect not pack not pack was in the link, the wolf ready to fight Willow - to do whatever it had to.  The demon was incoherent - was rage hate end it end it and Xander wanted to cry.

"I'll - yeah, we...  They're on their way, Giles."  Xander hung up abruptly and turned, grabbing Spike's arms in a hard grip, his wound screaming in pain that made Spike and Oz both flinch.  "Giles needs your help, Spike, and so does Willow and I know - I know you don't - care.  I know you're fine with her - killing Warren.  But if she does, Spike - if she does she'll never - get over it.  She'll never - recover."  He stared at Spike - stared at him and opened the link wide, letting everything he felt for Willow flood the link.  All his love and pride, all his awe and fear, all his anger and all his forgiveness.  The demon fought it - surged wildly and Spike snarled, game-faced and furious.  He wrenched away and a bolt of pain sizzled through Xander's arm.  He gasped, cradling his arm to his side and the demon gave a mournful wail.

Sorry sorry protect not pack not not not.  

"Spike!  I know.  I know.  But please, please - for me, please, don't - try not to let her...do this.  Please."   Don't want to lose her.  She's done so much but she's still...Willow.  Still...part of me.   Dawn was frozen at the table, terrified, and Oz was shifting over, becoming more the wolf.  He leaned up and kissed Derio - stalked slowly to Xander and Spike and forced his way between them, growling at them both.

Go, let's go, safe safe, keep her safe, protect, let's GO!   Spike blinked and seemed to come back to himself, and he kissed Xander hard.

"Do my best, love.  Do my best, promise.  Love you.  Stay here, stay safe -"

"Yeah, I will.  Fuck, Spike - Oz, please help her."  Oz nodded - rubbed his cheek along Xander's and then he turned and darted out of the kitchen - out of the house - Spike on his heels.  They ran, and Xander slumped down next to Dawn, trying to smile.  Dawn took a sip of her juice and then put her hand out.  Xander took it - watched as she did the same to Derio and pulled the other man close.

"We have to stay here and be strong for Buffy and for Tara.  Willow's going to be all right and - and we'll go to the hospital in a while and see Buffy, okay?  And we'll be fine."  Dawn looked anxiously at Xander - at Derio, and they both nodded, dredging up smiles.  But the air seemed to burn, and Xander followed Spike and Oz through the link - felt the shifting lines and wells of power that made up the Hellmouth grow agitated and erratic.  Willow was stirring a seething pot, and it was very, very close to boiling over.  Xander hoped Giles could somehow put out the fire.  He glanced at the kitchen clock and winced.  Not even nine.  God, could this day be any longer?  Spike - Oz...love you...

Running through the night with Oz - with the Hellmouth lit up and pulsing like a neon heart - and Spike roared out fury and glee to the night sky, the link to Xander closed to the merest thread.  Oz grimly fought the full change, but he could feel the magic as well - could feel the warping of energies all around them and control was becoming less and less of a priority.  It was a threat, this surge of energy - a threat and a challenge and the demon wanted it.  Months of frustration were coming to a head and Spike wondered if he'd even bother trying, with Willow. Or if he'd just fling himself in head-long, and take out her and Warren at the same time.  Beside him Oz growled, snapping at him, pushing hard into his shoulder as they ran, knocking him off balance a little.

Protect her, protect!  For the pack, pack, pack...

She's the threat.  SHE'S the danger.  NOT pack, kill it kill It KILL IT.   Oz snarled and his teeth snapped inches from Spike's face, and Spike just laughed.  

"Don't tell me you don't want to end this, wolf - don't tell me you don't want them all safe!"

Break his heart, Oz thought, furious and panting, shivering all over.  He'll hate us, Spike.

Can't hate us.  Won't.  We can fix it.

"No!"  Oz leapt forward and got directly in Spike's path - slammed into him, full-body hit, taking him to the ground.  Half wolf or more, his eyes black, black claws sunk deep into Spike's arms, pinning him there.  "No fix.  No kill.  Hear me?"  Oz forced the words through the wolf's jaws and Spike hissed at him, the demon all but taking over.  He pushed - rolled - flung Oz off of him and then crouched there, his fingers sunk to the second knuckle in the dirt.

"If she hurts him she's dead, wolf."  

"Yeah."  Oz rolled to his feet - padded over and held his hand out, and after a moment Spike took it - let Oz pull him up.  

"Hold fas'," Oz said, around wolf-fangs and wolf-muzzle.  Around wolf desires.  Fighting the curdling wrongness of the night.  Something - twisted - something seemed to break and build at the same moment - bubbles rising up and up from an underground trap, breaking and forming endlessly as they went.  Power, surging into the Hellmouth.

Oh fuck, that's her, she's got something, she's -

Love you love him, pack FAMILY hold fast, Spike, keep it together, can't let this happen, hear me?  Can't let this happen.  She could kill us so be CAREFUL.   Spike stared at him - closed his eyes for a moment when Oz's clawed hand touched lightly at the demon's features - caressing.   Lover's touch, brother's touch.

Careful, Spike thought finally, shivering, and Oz nodded.  Then they both turned and ran for the shop.

The Magic Box was all but destroyed; the loft crumpled down onto the main floor, the display cabinets and shelves crushed and broken.  Giles was sitting in the midst of it all, unnaturally pale, blood on his face and hair - on his clothes.  Ethan lay on the floor beside him, stretched out like an effigy on top of a tomb, dusted white with plaster and red with blood.    Spike could feel nothing at all from him and he crouched down beside the mage, listening.  Faint heart-beat, like a wren's wings, fluttering, fluttering; his breathing a faint susurrus.  Giles looked -.

Is he even in there?  Christ, what did that cunt do?

"Watcher!  Where is she?  Where'd she go?"  Giles looked up at him, blinking - lifted a shaking hand and wiped at the blood that was trickling down his cheek.

"She - the - the coven.  In Devon.  They extended their powers to me.  And...she took it."

"She's got more power?   Whose bloody stupid idea was that?"  There was a small crash and Oz appeared from around the corner of a bookcase, snarling.

She's got most of the magic that was here.  She's like a fucking reactor.  The Hellmouth was vibrating like a beaten drum and Spike knew that no matter what Willow did, every demon for miles was feeling it - and was gonna try - something.  She was a candle to a hundred-thousand moths and whatever damage she did, they would double.

"She's got Andrew, and Johnathan.  And - Warren.  She had something...she was pulling him in.  She's going to - burn out, Spike.  She's going to burn herself with the power she has.  Too much, and the wrong kind, besides."

"What do you mean, the wrong kind?"  Giles looked dazedly around him and then he looked at Ethan - put his hand out and stoked the man's cheek.  Ethan's eyelids flickered and his heartbeat sped a little.

"Earth magic.  Root magic.  The oldest magic there is.  What she's used to - what she took from here..."  Giles made a sort of wave with his hand around the shop.    "This is borrowed stuff.  Made stuff.  Calling up spirits and demons, using talismans and rituals imbued with the power of gods...  That's all a pale copy of the magic that holds the earth to the sun.  Holds the air to the earth.  She's never tapped that magic, and she can't control it."  Giles took a deep breath - coughed, holding his side.  "She doesn't know how to use it, and it doesn't like being...manhandled.  She thought she just got my power, but it was a - puzzle-box, with the coven's power inside.  And - you felt it.  She's opened it."

Fuckin' Pandora's Box.  Where's Hope, I wonder?    "Gonna kill her, then?" Spike asked.  Oz came to stand behind him, legs against his back, and Spike reached out and touched Giles' shoulder - shook him a little.  "Is it going to kill her, Watcher?"  Giles looked at him, his eyes mild and dazed behind his dust-flecked glasses.

"It may very well, Spike.  I don't know.  But if it doesn't burn her out soon, she's going to kill all of us."

Spike looked at him - looked up at Oz, and they both moved at the same moment.  Heading out, into the night again, following the path that Willow had left.  Poison smoke from a psychic burning and it was choking them both.

Where in fuck is she going? Spike thought, and Oz leaped a downed tree, panting.  Willow's back trail was as easy to follow as the path of a tornado; furrowed dirt, shattered trees, rocks pulverized to dust.  A few houses and streets had also suffered, and cars had been tossed like tin toys.  The skirl of chaotic magic was a bee-hive buzz, maddening and inescapable.   Spike wanted to find the source and make it stop, preferably with blood and cracked bones.

Kingman's Bluff is the only thing up here... Oz thought, bewildered, and they ran on.  Spike could feel Xander in the link, trying to get his attention; an insistent, warm push that nearly overrode the mind-numbing static that was Willow.

Talk to him, Oz thought, sending him a look and Spike finally let Xander back in.

Spike, you fuck.  I called Giles - he said there's an old temple up there - some old cult...they were gonna destroy the world but an earthquake got 'em and now...Willow's going to finish it.   There was panic in his mental voice - panic and bewilderment and an constant undercurrent of grief that his friend, his Willow - could be so utterly out of control.

You told him where she was, Spike accused Oz, and the werewolf yipped in exasperation.

Yeah.  Deserves to know.  Protect pack, Spike!  We're not killing anybody tonight.   Spike snarled at that - jerked in surprise at a sudden flash from Xander.  His truck, skidding around a corner, Dawn sliding into him and hurting his bandaged arm, Derio cursing and wrestling with the stick-shift.

What in bloody hell do you think you're doing!   Spike stopped dead, turning furiously in a circle, trying to pinpoint the direction Xander was coming from.

I'm coming to help, damnit!  You don't care about Willow, and Oz...has too much baggage.  I'm still her FRIEND, Spike, still her friend and I have to help her if I can...   Another flash - a parking lot, concrete steps, and Spike roared, furious.

Getting ahead of us, getting there alone -  He didn't remember starting to run, but he was - running flat out, the air whistling past and Oz full wolf now, a streak of blackness in the moonless night.

Xander, you bastard, you can't be up there alone!  If she hurts you -

Spike...love you.  It'll be all right.  The top of the bluff was in sight and Spike re-doubled his efforts until he was practically flying, skimming over the ground, his newly healed rib protesting in dull stabs.  They reached the top of the bluff, skidding and scrabbling in rocky brush and Willow was there, the black heart of a nimbus of sickly green energy floating several feet off the ground.   Some sort of spire - church-spire - stuck drunkenly up out of the ground, the churned and broken earth around it stinking of old death.  Bits of bone gleamed there, and rusted metal, and a woman's figure graced the spire.  Some dark goddess, some witch, forever frozen in a lurid dance.  Above it was a red mass - a squirming lump of flesh and blood, skinless and dripping.  Its mouth was sewn shut - its eyes bulged in agony and Spike knew it was Warren.  Willow was sending a stream of twisted light into the statue, and Spike was sure the figure was moving - was coming to life.

Uncaring, he leapt straight as an arrow at Willow.  They connected with a hissing of magic - a boom of energies and Spike stared into her face, his hands like claws on her arms.  She was bloodlessly white, veined in black.  Black hair, black lips, and her eyes the whiteless, lifeless black of a shark.

"Come to drink my blood, Spike?" she crooned, her voice layered and echoing and too loud, and Spike fought the urge to do so - to simply sink his fangs in and suck her power down his throat.

"Think I wouldn't witch?   That'd be the fuckin' meal of a lifetime.  More kick than any Slayer."  She grinned at him, a death's head parody of her former self.

"Riley sure liked being bitten.  Maybe I'll like it, too.  Wanna try?   If it's real nice, I won't kill you.  I'll keep you - make you my pet."  She lifted her chin, baring her throat.  Spike felt as if he were suffocating - felt the same mindless, claustrophobic fear he'd felt waking in his coffin.  Willow's magic was winding around him, tighter and tighter, making him groan.  Making him shatter and he felt himself unwinding - felt the damage Glory had done multiplying in him - breeding faster than any virus.  

God, what is she DOING!  Spike!  Oh, fuck that's Warren, Jesus, how could she -   Xander's voice, and Spike struggled, terrified Willow would do something to Xander while he hung, helpless.

"Willow!"  The witch's eyes widened in shock and she snarled - flung Spike aside and he crashed to the ground, gagging.  Oz was there, pushing at him - morphing enough to have hands and yanking him up and away. That feeling of coming to pieces stopped abruptly and Spike crouched in the scrubby grass, panting.  Xander was standing beside the spire - was staring at Willow, hand on knee, panting.    His sling was askew and Spike could feel the pain of his wound - could feel despair and terror and stubborn determination.

Love - careful - god, WHY!?

She's my friend.  She's my oldest family.  I owe her.   Willow floated down towards Xander - stopped when her feet lightly touched the cracked earth and rocks that surrounded the spire.

"You!  Betrayer.  Do you think you can stop me?  Think I care about you?  Think I'll just - fold up, give in - 'cause you tell me to?  Be the good little girl and follow orders?"  She lifted her hand and shot a bold of pure energy at Xander and he reeled backwards, striking the spire and grimacing in pain.

"Willow - no matter what's happened - you're still my friend.  My oldest family!"

"But you've got your new family now, Xander," she hissed, and the magic crackled around her, lifting her hair, painting her with a deathbed pallor.

"That doesn't change anything.  I still love you, Willow!"

"Oh, you love me.  And that's going to make it all better?  I can feel it, Xander!  Whatever - Giles had, what I took - I can feel the whole world and do you know what I feel?   Pain!"  She flung another bolt at him, sending him stumbling back a pace, but the maelstrom of light and energy around her was flickering now, unsteady.

What is it?  What's - happening? Spike asked Oz, and the werewolf shook his head.

Giles said she would burn out - maybe she is.  But Xander's...

Stopping her.  Fuck...   He wanted desperately to rush in again but sensed that he shouldn't - that her rage was dying as surely as her power was, and that it was because of Xander.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and he realized Johnathan was there, crawling weakly towards a sprawled figure - towards Andrew.  They were both bloody, but alive.

"Everybody feels pain, Willow!  Everybody.  But that doesn't mean you just - give up!  There's still love, Willow.  I love you - no matter what."

"Oh, am I supposed to just - get all weepy?  Fall at your feet?"  Willow flung both hands out, but the magic was thin, now - fuzzy and almost colorless, and Xander didn't even stumble.  Willow looked shocked - a little frightened - and her eyes darted around, as if she were coming awake - seeing where she was.

"No.  You're supposed to remember that you're not alone.  Tara's alive, Willow!  She's waiting for you - she's hurt, and she needs you.  And Buffy - Dawn...  Do you really want to just - end it for them?  They love you - they need you.  I need you, Willow.  I need a witchy woman in my life."  Xander walked forward slowly and Willow was gasping now - shaking.  She was slowly fading back to herself as the power drained away, and the oppressive hum of magic was fading fast.  Age was overtaking the spire and the statue and it was cracking - falling.  The lump of meat that was Warren was barely twitching, and Spike could hear his heart stuttering and failing.  

"Willow, please - I love you, and I'd do anything to make this better.  I'd do anything..."  Xander stopped right in front of her and Willow looked up at him, her chest heaving, tears streaking down her cheeks.  She looked around her again - looked up at the sky, taking a hard, gasping breath.

"I'm so scared, Xander!  Nothing's the same, nothing's right anymore!  I don't know - who I am anymore.  I just wanted everyone to be - to be happy, I just wanted things to be like they were!"  She crumpled to her knees, sobbing for real, now and Xander went down beside her and gathered her in close, whispering to her.

"Willow, it's okay.  We can fix it, we can.  I love you, it's okay, Wills, shhh..."  The magic was utterly gone now, as if it had never been, and the temple spire abruptly went to dust, shattering into nothing.  Warren's body flopped obscenely to the ground and his heart faltered and stopped altogether.  Spike felt his legs wobbling under him and they gave out finally, and he sat down hard.  Oz was behind him, pressed tight, arms around his chest and Spike held on, watching Xander comfort his oldest friend - watching him tell her lies and promises and weave a pretty story for her.  Because he could feel the link, and he could feel the bond those two had shared was severed for all time now.  

All she wanted was revenge.  Didn't think of Tara, or Buffy...didn't think of anyone but herself...  God, how could she do this...   Rage and grief and Spike couldn't think of a thing to say.  He watched, uncaring, as Johnathan hauled Andrew to his feet and they both stumbled away - probably gone for good.  He watched Derio and Dawn come up over the edge of the bluff and stare for a moment, then they both sprinted to where Spike and Oz sat.  Spike wearily shrugged out of his duster and gave it to Oz, who pulled it on gratefully and then hugged Derio to him.  Dawn sat down next to Spike and just stared at him.

"This is just too crazy," she said softly, and Spike nodded.

"You all right, Bit?"

"I'm fine.  I want to see Buffy.  You okay?"  Dawn was calm - was different - and Spike suspected that this day - these things - had forced her to grow up just a bit more.  Had forced some realities on her that she would never be able to forget.

"I'm fine, Dawn.  Shouldn't have come up here, you know."  Dawn shrugged, looking over at Willow and Xander.

"Well, Derio didn't know how to drive a stick and so I came along as back-up."  Spike stared at her and she grinned suddenly, and he had to laugh.  Just hug her and laugh until his sides hurt, because that made as much sense as anything else had that night, and he had never been so tired in his life.



_____________________

gatito = kitten

15 Breathe

It was raining and Spike lay in bed, curled close to Xander, just watching him and thinking.  Remembering.    He'd been doing that a lot - doing it like an exercise, like Oz sitting and saying his Tibetan mantra that made the wolf a part of him and not a savage interloper.    Remembering that evening in early March, when the whole gang of them had driven down to L.A. to the airport.  Seeing Giles and Ethan and Willow off.   To Devon, the coven, and whatever help they could offer.

Ethan is still frail from his encounter with Willow - still a magical negative, as far as Spike can tell, which is a relief and disconcerting all at the same time.  He doesn't look at her, and Spike doesn't blame him.  Willow is - the same. Hair cut a little shorter, eyes still holding that wounded, waif-like 'I'm so sorry' look.  The look that won't go away and that means less than nothing, now, because she can say 'I'm sorry' until her heart stops beating and it won't change what she did.  

Giles and Buffy talk quietly, Buffy with unshed tears shimmering in her eyes, Giles with the stiff-shouldered, head-down posture he adopts when emotions are too near the surface.   When the flight is called and they gather their things - prepare to go - Ethan looks dumbfounded to find Dawn hugging him - and then Oz, and Xander.  He just stands there, looking at them, and his clever fox's face is for once devoid of all malice and mischief and instead looks rather like Scrooge when he wakes to find it's still Christmas Day.  Giles is also pulled into hard, trembling hugs and Buffy finally breaks down, sobbing into his handkerchief, her make-up running and her eyes impossibly wide.  She looks all of 13 and Giles can't say a word - kisses her forehead softly and walks briskly away, Ethan's hand tight in his.  Willow lingers, accepting their stiff hugs - accepting the little planner that Anya gives her that has her schedule of payments.  Willow's in serious debt to demon-girl over the shop and Anya has the look of a pit bull when she explains the payments and the interest owed.  Willow just looks bewildered - scoops up her bag and waves forlornly and stumbles away down the concourse.  

It's a relief to see her go; for the family most of all but even for Buffy and Dawn, who spent the last three weeks consoling her and helping her pack.   Buffy had just the day before removed the sling she'd been wearing for three weeks, pronouncing herself healed and ready for patrol.  Tara still moves gingerly, her cracked ribs sore, the muscles all along that side stiff and achy.  She's taken to doing yoga with Dawn every day in an effort to get limber again and she and Giles cooked up a salve that works wonders.  Xander has used it, too, and has healed as quickly as Buffy.  But he still rubs his arm from time to time, as if the pain lingers.  Rubbed it at the airport, watching his oldest friend walk away, and Spike and Oz and Derio crowd close, soothing the last of the hurt away, making sure he knows how much he is loved.  Tara...takes a deep breath and whispers 'Goodbye, Willow,' and Spike hears the finality in that, and hugs Glinda-witch close.

Spike reached out and traced the scar on Xander's bicep.  A palely pinkish spot on his honey-brown arm, the tissue twisted and a little raised.   Mostly circular in the front, but larger and star-shaped in the back, where the bullet had torn out.  It hadn't had much time or room to fragment or the exit wound would have been bigger - the injury worse.    It hurt, to see that.  It felt like failure to touch that scar and Spike touched it one more time to remind himself - to remember.  
So sorry, my love...  So very, very sorry.   Xander stirred, sighing, and Spike pulled his hand back - watched Xander's head turn on the pillow, watched his hand reach out, searching.  It found Spike's hip and gripped there, and then Xander was still, and Spike blinked, fighting tears.

Still trusts us.  See how he trusts us?  Touches us and that makes him calm...  Never break that trust.

Family always MINE.   The demon had never quite recovered from that day - had never quite relaxed again, and the trouble Spike had with forgetting didn't help.  But things were getting better, if slowly.   Spike reached out again - junkie to drug - and ran his fingers through Xander's hair.  Scent of sandalwood and cedar, the ocean and the sap-heavy pines that grew in the near-by park.  A long night of patrol, working out tensions and nerves.  Tomorrow - today, really, since Spike could feel the sun clearing a rain-shrouded horizon - they were heading out to the forest and...something new. Spike squirmed a little closer, resting his cheek on Xander's chest, inching his leg up and over.  Remembering something else, now - reaching for each detail.

Since the shooting Buffy has worked inside at Alves and Son - has started doing inventory and billing and customer service.  Learning to use the computer Manny has, graduating up a couple more dollars in pay and being excited over going to work in heels and kicky skirts instead of worn dungarees and a hard-hat.  

But even the pay raise and one less person in the house has not been enough and Buffy has them all gathered in the halfway repaired Magic Box to listen as she tearfully tells them it's time.  Time to sell the house on Revello and find something cheaper - smaller- maybe newer, so she won't ever have to face the nightmare of 'full copper re-pipe' again. Probably just a rental, since she's sure her credit is nil.  

Dawn is sulking, not talking, her eyes red, and Tara hugs Buffy gently and tries to make a move sound exciting: a new place for old, loved things and a chance for a killer yard-sale!  It's Anya who really saves the moment - Anya who whips out a newspaper and a pen and starts showing Buffy all kinds of real estate listings.   Tells her in mind-numbing detail about points and balloon payments and closing costs and then mentions in a off-hand way that she has, in her spare time, gotten a realtors license and could she be Buffy's agent?   And how buying is better than renting and Buffy can get First Time Home Owners assistance from the government.  She promises she won't screw her on the commission.  Buffy just stares at her, and then starts laughing, which sets Xander off and then Tara, and in the end it becomes almost a party atmosphere, with Dawn chiming in about what she wants in a new place (her own bathroom) and what she doesn't want (a creepy basement).  

After a long talk with Manny, the old demon shows the girls three houses his company owns - older but refurbished, and all the pipes guaranteed.  The prices - suspiciously low.  The sale goes smoothly and Anya throws a little 'closing day' party at the flat she and Drake live in.    They spend three days moving Buffy and Dawn - and Tara - into the new house.  

"A girl's house and a boy's house.  What are we, Catholic?" Dawn mumbles, but Tara wants to come back - to help Buffy and be with Dawn and the pack lets her go.  The new house IS smaller, and Dawn doesn't get her own bathroom, but like all Manny's houses it has graceful details along window and door frames, a mind-boggling number of doors and - special treat - a fireplace.  And a view of the sea, which Tara appreciates and Dawn envisions as a place to host parties.  They make almost two thousand dollars at their yard sale, and with it they buy cell-phones for everyone.  

"We need to be able to keep in touch," Buffy says, handing them out.   Spike snorts and tucks his away, dismissing it, but a week later he's making a deal with Dawn to show him how to decipher the damn thing and retrieve the twenty-seven text messages Dawn has sent him.  Anything to make the damn thing stop making NOISE.    His next poker night he deliberately wins and loses until he's seen every kitten every demon has, and brings home a graceful seal-point Siamese for Dawn.

"Miss Kitty needs a friend when we're all out of the house," Dawn says, arms crossed and lip pouting out, daring Buffy to say no.  To Spike's horror and Xander's endless amusement, she names the creature Sinclair.  

"Because he looks like you, Spike," Dawn says, holding the wriggling scrap of cream and sable up for Spike's inspection.  "Look at his blue eyes!  And the fangs!"  The kitten bats at Spike's face and he hisses at it - gets a hiss in return and Dawn points triumphantly at the needle-sharp teeth.  Miss Kitty takes her time warming up.

               
Spike smiled to himself, thinking of his namesake stalking Tara's swishing skirt-hems and rabbit-kicking Mr. Gordo, and Xander moved again, his hand coming up to rest on Spike's back and pet there for a moment before going limp once more.   Spike contemplated the fine hairs that grew down the center of Xander's chest and thought about the past spring.  So much change - so many things.  

The Watcher and company off to Blighty the first week of March, the old house on Revello sold and the new house occupied in the last week of April.  And then, one week into May they had their own announcement.  A place opening up, a chance to go, and Xander looked at Buffy with hope and sorrow and pleading as he told them they were leaving - going to Seattle.  

That had been days and days of 'talks' and shouting and fights - a night's worth of patrol wherein Buffy detailed every single thing Spike had ever done to screw them over and everything Xander had done to help her and told him, her voice cracking, that if Xander wasn't happy - if he wasn't deliriously overjoyed, she was going to come up there and move him back herself.  And kick Spike's ass.  

Spike had listened in silence and promised utter contentment and had seen blame in the Slayer's eyes - had seen accusation and 'You're the reason he's leaving everything, leaving home, leaving US!'   He silently accepted it, but felt no guilt, and no remorse.  The Hellmouth was a sink - was a lodestone for more than demons, and Spike couldn't tolerate the thought of his family living there - dying there - if they didn't have to.  He schemed to have Dawn come for the summer - tried to cajole Tara into coming along.  But Tara had finally and tearfully said no - said she had to stay and keep Dawn safe and Buffy sane.

Dawn at least had come, to spend a month with them in their house right off the Duwamish Waterway.  Rough neighborhood, but that only made the patrols they'd never given up on more exciting, since sometimes they fought a demon and sometimes they stopped the sort of mindless violence that made newspaper headlines.   Dawn had kept up her training and came out with them a couple of times, actually staking her first vampire with only a little help.  She spent her days with Derio and Oz at Pike Place Market or the Junction, wandering around the shops and watching the Sound ebb and flow - listening to Derio play his fiddle.  Oz was working at a club doing sound stuff again, and Derio still did his computer thing, something Spike had never quite figured out but did bring in fairly regular paychecks.  

Dawn had stayed at home with Spike a lot, as well; watching movies and teaching him about the computer Xander had bought so they could email every day or chat late at night.  Nearly complete, the family - nearly perfect and Spike had ached for Tara and spoilt Dawn horribly.    Seeing her off at the airport had been hard - the demon had screamed for him to just take her and keep her and make the family whole, but Spike had let her go - watched her hug them all and sniffle a little and march onto the plane with her chin up and shoulders straight, wishing there was some other way.  And now it was almost the end of September and things had settled into a routine - into life again, without the endless interruptions of Hellmouth origin, and Spike desperately wanted this to be good - wanted it to be right.

Spike sighed and closed his eyes - listened to the rain falling, steady and soft; listened to the distant sounds of barges and transport ships nosing into port with the occasional blast of an air-horn or a more prosaic bell.  Guilt twisted in him - guilt and unease and the sense of having failed again, somehow - somewhere.  News from Sunnydale said nothing had happened - was happening - but still...  

Driving north finally, most of their things in a rented truck with Xander's truck on a trailer behind.  A Clem-cousin is driving the DeSoto up and they follow Oz's van, silent.  Xander suddenly shivers - looks over his shoulder and then looks at Spike, eyes wide.

"God!  It's been so long since I left, I forgot...  You really - feel it, when you're away from it.  You feel -"

"Lighter," Spike says, and Xander nods, frowning.  

"Yeah...lighter and...  Like I can really hear - can really see.  God, it's WEIRD."  Xander reaches for Spike's hand and holds it tightly but he's smiling, and the link is full of happiness.  Oz sends the same back and Derio says the Knowing...just stretched itself a bit further.  So it's good.  

But now Spike wondered if he really had got it right, and he sighed again, pressing in close to Xander's warmth, listening to the heartbeat that was steady and strong and solid - unstoppable, if he had anything to say about it.  

"What's wrong, love?" Xander asked softly, and Spike smiled, not moving.

"You're getting good at that, pet.  I didn't even know."

"It's a good trick," Xander said, and he slid his hands around Spike, pulling him closer and petting in earnest now - long, heavy strokes of his hands that pushed muscles around and made his skin tingle and Spike sighed in pleasure this time.

"Now tell me what's wrong?  I can feel you...fretting."  Spike laughed, hearing his word from Xander's mouth.

"I'm not...well, I am.  Just...wondering..."  Spike couldn't say it, couldn't really think it, but Xander knew, anyway.

"Wondering if this is right.  I know.  It's - weird, not being in Sunnydale.  But it's better.  You're better.  That's all I care about..."

"Don't tell me lies, love," Spike said softly, and Xander's hands stopped for one moment and then resumed their movements, the friction making Spike warm.

"I'm not lying.  I wanted you better, and you are.  You're more important than the Hellmouth, Spike...fuck, you're more important than the world, as far as I'm concerned.  If something big comes up, Buffy can call Giles - or Angel - she doesn't need us like I need you."   That internal pet, then - Xander pushing love and want and need and family pack us mine always through the link like sunshine and Spike had to smile again, half-drunk from it all.  And still...guilty.

"But we're not all here, love.  And I know you miss them..."

"So do you, Spike.  But we do what we have to do.  We'll go visit sometime...we'll have Dawn back, and we'll make Tara come...  Fuck, we'll make Buffy come - show these northern vamps what the Slayer's all about."  Spike laughed, and Xander hugged him - sighed a little himself and squirmed, getting Spike exactly where he wanted him.

Love you forever, vampire-mine.  Things change, it's just...life...

I'm afraid that...

"That what, Spike?" Xander asked, threading his fingers slowly through Spike's hair, and Spike opened his eyes - looked at the window where the curtain belled and swung in the breeze, letting in scarves of rain-scented air.

"That you...resent..."  Xander's finger on his lips stopped him, and he waited, almost trembling.

"Love - you didn't force me.  You asked me.  And I made up my mind, and Oz and Derio did...  We came along because we wanted to."  Xander's hand slipped under his chin - lifted his face so he could see the dark, concerned eyes.  "Want this, want you...  Trust me to make up my own mind, okay?"  Xander leaned a little and kissed him - sweet and mint and warm - and Spike kissed back - curled up and around and got both arms around him and just pulled Xander close, kissing and kissing until his mouth felt bruised.

Trust you love, always trust you...my own, family, always always, always...  

"So, we ready?"  Xander stood nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet, watching as Spike dragged on his duster and loaded the pockets with sundries.  Oz walked by carrying a sleeping bag and he reached out and rubbed Xander's back for a moment, grinning.

You okay?

Fuck, yeah, I just -   "Just feel like...don't wanna screw anything up," Xander mumbled, and Oz dropped the sleeping bag and pulled him into a hard hug.

"You can't screw it up, Xander.  It's okay, man - just be...you, you know?  Just be calm."

"Be me, yeah.  Jesus, that's usually the problem -"

"Xander."  Derio stomped over to him and Oz, frowning.  "Stop that, hermano.   You know it's not true."  Xander laughed, a little shakily, and pulled Derio in for a hug as well.

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, and then Spike was there, displacing Oz just a little, running lips and the tip of his tongue over the claim-scar and making Xander shiver and smile.

"Just be calm, love.   It'll be fine."  Love you.  Can't mess this up.  Gonna be brilliant, love...

"Yeah, okay...fuck, guys, I'm sorry, I just -"  Xander kissed whatever bits of the three of them he could reach and they all pulled back a little, disengaging but still touching, letting pack family us always surge through him and through the link.  "I just want this to work.  And I don't want anything to happen and I can't make my brain stop thinking about it."

"I could make your brain stop," Spike murmured, shuttered gaze and half smile and What's your pleasure, love; collar, rope, sit on my lap...

"Oh fuck.  You do that and this really won't work!"  Xander had to grin and Spike did, and the mood lightened - lifted.  Xander gave Derio an extra little squeeze and turned away, gathering the last item he needed.  Spike did the same, and Derio shouldered a duffle.  They'd be gone for four days - camping, which was something Xander equated with a tent made from a quilt in Jesse's back yard, flashlights and Oreo cookies and Willow sneaking over to sit, round-eyed, as Xander and Jesse both tried to tell the scariest story.  

And it sucks that that still hurts to think about.   Because it did hurt to think about Jesse - still hurt, always hurt - and it hurt to think about Willow.  They had gotten an email from her, telling them she was settling in, learning things.  But that was all.  Xander had sent a desultory reply but...his heart hadn't been in it.  He felt like...he was in mourning, and trying to talk to what was left of his best friend just made him tired, and angry.  And it HURTS.  Fuck.

Don't think about it, love, don't.  Please?   Xander nodded distractedly - looked up and caught Spike's eye where he was waiting by the door and smiled, just a little.  Spike was more than happy to never contemplate Willow again - had dismissed her from his life and his future without a second thought.  And Xander knew Spike wanted him to do the same but...

Just hard, Spike.  It's okay.  Love you.

Love you too, pet.   Spike sighed, holding open the door, and Xander hoisted his toolbox where he kept his wood-carving stuff and went out to the van.  He thought maybe he'd have a chance to work on some little things while they were out in the middle of nowhere.

City boy, Oz thought, internal laugh, and Xander grinned to himself.   There wasn't actually that much in the van - there was more wood than supplies, which made Xander a little nervous again.  He'd never done this kind of thing for real, like Oz had - driving and camping across the country and then halfway across the world, living on stuff he could cook over a fire and bartering his possessions away one by one for essentials like gas and water.

Just for four days, love.  I'll keep you warm...keep you fed...  

And again with the x-rated.  I'm starting to think camping is gonna be like a long weekend in Vegas.   Spike laughed from somewhere in the front of the van, messing with a portfolio full of CD's.  It was just past nine in the morning and the sky was darkly blue-grey, overcast enough for Spike to safely be out without cover.   Xander slung his tool-box up into the van and wedged it securely between a cooler and a milk-crate that held a couple of lanterns and jugs of oil for them, a few coils of muddy rope, a short-handled shovel and several pots nested together.   Derio came out of the house with two jugs of water and Oz came out right after him, locking the door.  

"And we're off," he said, pack love you happening happening stay close.  

Close as you like, Spike thought, coming around to the back and brushing his fingers lightly through Oz's hair.  They all settled into the van: Oz driving, Derio doing DJ duty, and Spike and Xander in the back, manning the map.  They were heading for Mt. Rainier and the over 200,000 acres of forest and solitude that surrounded it.  National park, full of rabbits and bears and trees, full of glacier-melt streams and snow and silence.  Privacy, for Derio to change for the first time.

It was only about two hours, to get to the park gates.  Whatever fees or notices were required Oz had already dealt with, and they drove through and then upwards, slowly.  Xander knelt between the two front seats just staring.  The forest on either side was thick and green - dark, in the greenish murk of the storm-light - shining-wet with rain.  There were patches of snow in the deepest shadows and birds everywhere.  Oz rolled his window down and the sharp, cold air came in like wine, thick with the scents of wet earth and wood, wet vegetation mouldering into compost and autumn-turned leaves smelling like baked bread and cinnamon and old books.  Xander just shut his eyes and let the hyena out, closer to the surface than it had been in long time - since Toth's stick had sheared him from it and set it free.   The scents and sounds coming in the window were intoxicating and he just hovered there, breathing in deep, slow breaths.  He started in surprise when Spike crawled up behind him and got an arm around his waist, holding him close.

It's beautiful...god...  This place is...

Perfect, Oz thought, and Xander agreed.  Their campsite was half an hour up the mountain and they only saw three other cars as they drove the twisting road up and up.  A strong breeze was blowing and occasionally rain would fall, gusting through the open window and spattering them all only to taper off and stop again.  The campsite was deserted.  

Setting up camp was easy, since they planned to sleep in the van.  Oz had a tarp and two tall poles and he and Derio set up a sort of awning over the back of the van so they could cook and sit and stay mostly dry.  The wood was off-loaded - Spike did it in three overloaded trips - and the Sterno cooker and cooler were placed to one side.  There was a brick-lined pit with a grate over it and Oz set about making a fire.  

Xander watched him for a few moments and then wandered away, towards the water he could hear on the other side of a thin belt of trees.  He pushed through springy, rain-drenched pines and stopped, grinning.  A small creek rushed past at his feet, crystalline water pouring over pebbles and larger rocks and one blackened length of tree-trunk, half sunk in the water and covered on one side with pale green fungus.  From here the view was clear and he could see the hoary, eroded cone of the mountain, white with ice and half-sunk in clouds and mist.   He breathed, and felt the champagne air to the very bottom of his lungs.

All right, pet?   Spike slid out of the trees, smiling at him, and Xander nodded.

It's amazing.  I've never - been anywhere.  Never seen a mountain like this or...

Want to take you everywhere, love - want to take you over the whole world.  Spike wrapped his arms around Xander and leaned against him, hand sliding up under the denim jacket and flannel shirt - finding the edge of his thermal and then his t-shirt and burrowing under.

Too many layers, Spike thought, with a mental laugh, and Xander shivered as the vampire's cold hands stroked up and down his back.

Just enough, and it'll be colder tonight.  Aren't you freezing?

Not with you to snog.   Spike pulled him closer and found Xander's mouth and they stood pressed together for a very long time, kissing slowly.     After awhile they separated, and Xander leaned his forehead onto Spike's, one hand idly tracing patterns over the black thermal shirt Oz had talked him into wearing.

When do you think it'll start working??

Dunno.  It HAS been, a little bit...  Have you felt it?

Maybe...  It'll be weird, having somebody else to talk to like this. But good.   Do you think it'll freak him out?

Dunno.  Don't think so.  He almost does it already, with the wolf...  Spike lifted his head and Xander looked at him - looked into his eyes, that were calm and so vividly blue - at the small, real smile that made Xander's heart skip a beat and made his breath catch.

That for me?

Always for you, my one, my own, my only...  They kissed until they heard Oz saying something about food, and then they went back to the camp, and Oz started showing Xander how to cook over an open fire.

Around five they had everything in place and it was dark already, the setting sun only a streak of deep scarlet for a moment along the high ridges of the mountain before the clouds swallowed it for good.  The fire was burning steadily, several big logs laying half in and half out of the pit, ready to be pushed in further as they burned away.  The inside of the van was lined with sleeping bags, blankets, quilts and pillows - a den for later.   Spike had crawled in to nap for a couple of hours and now he was crawling back out, hair tousled up and his eyes half-shut and almost violet in the dimness.   Oz had made coffee and they sat on camp stools drinking it in silence while Derio played something on his fiddle - sang softly, and Xander closed his eyes and just listened.

"I was born in a forked-tongue story...raised up by merchants and drug store liars...
Now I walk on the paths of glory...one foot in ice, one in fire...
I see the mountain...the mountain comes to me...I see the mountain...and that is all I see...
Some poor prophet comes, some find solace...some lay him down in a junkyard bay...
Some will chase us and some will call us...gone, gone, gone in a day...
Gone to the mountain...the mountain comes to me...I see the mountain...and that is all I see...
Miller take me and miller grind me...scatter my bones on the wild green tide...
Maybe some roving bird will find me...over the water we'll ride..."

Xander was doing his own remembering - fretting, as Spike would say, but he wanted this to work, so he went back over things obsessively - particularly what they'd done a week ago, in preparation for this.  Sitting in the living room, the old fold-out couch open so they could all sprawl on it in a comfortable tangle, watching movies and talking.  Then the last movie was over and everyone was just comfortably relaxed in the warm, quiet house.  Waiting.

Your boy ready, wolfling?  Does he know?  Does he consent?  The vaguely formal words from Spike makes Xander sit up a little and Oz lifts his head and runs his hands back through his hair.  He has, for some reason known only to himself and possibly Derio, re-dyed it just the day before in a half-dozen shades of fire.  Now in the saffron glow from a dozen candles his hair is static flame, tufted upright in locks of scarlet and dull gold, wheat and rust, amber and bronze and snow.  Oz looks at Derio, a small tilt of his head, and then at Spike.

He knows.  He consents.

Has to say it, love, Spike thinks, settling cross-legged, wearing Xander's ratty Sunnydale Swim Team sweats and nothing else.

"Derio, mi amor...it's time," Oz says softly, and Derio stares at him for one long moment and then he's sitting up too - scooting nearer to Oz and they're in a sort of circle now, facing each other.

"Do you want it?  Do you want - us?" Xander says, low and a little hesitant, and Derio nods - swallows and takes Oz's hand tightly in his.

"I - I want it.  I want - all of it.  Familia..."   Oz smiles at him and Spike does and Xander just feels a wave of relief.

"Oz told me - how it was?  But I wanted to ask..."  Derio stopped and looked down - looked back up, nervously twisting the tip of a dreadlock in his fingers.  "I wanted to ask - no acero.  No i-iron."  His nerves are making his accent more pronounced and Xander thinks for just a moment how much he loves to listen to Derio speak - how his native tongue creeps in and makes simple English sound so pretty.

Pretty words, pretty boy... Spike thinks, and he looks at Xander and smiles - looks back at Derio.

"What do you mean?"

"I just - don’t want any knives, yes?  Just - would you - usar sus dientes, no mas..."

"Teeth, pet?  Want me to bite you?"  Derio shivers all over, his eyes closing for a moment and his hand is clutched so tightly around Oz's that his knuckles are white.  

"Si, si, por favor mi hermano, por favor..."

"Hush, pet, it's all right..."  Spike's eyes are gold, now - the link is thrumming with want and lust and happiness - with love and wonder.  "That's all right - I can do that."  Derio nods - opens his eyes again and looks at Spike, smiling.  Then he turns to Oz and kisses him, sweet and slow and love, love him, want him, pack pack pack from the wolf.

Love you, love him... Xander thinks, and Spike - reassuring the wolf that Derio is welcome - that he's WANTED.  They end the kiss reluctantly and Derio ducks his head and pulls up the edge of his t-shirt - lifts it off and tosses it aside.  He's slim and brown and sleek as a mink and on his left shoulder, close to his throat is a mark - a bite.  Oz's bite, two days old, healing fast.  The bite that will bring him over, the next full moon, into the world of the wolf.   He has a string of beads around his neck, looping down to his belly, red and black.  He lifts the beads, slipping them through his fingers and Xander is reminded of the old woman that lived next door when he was a kid, who would sit on her porch and pray over her rosary, glossy-dark beads looping  endlessly through her fingers.

"Legba Ati-Bon, open the way.  Dios travesia, protect us, guide us..." he whispers, and then he looks shyly up at them, smiling.

"Can I - give you a gift?  Before we -"

"Of course, love," Spike murmurs, and Xander nods.

"Sure, Derio.  But - I don't have -"   Derio laughs, stopping him.

"I just wanted to - bring something to this -" Derio says, and Xander shakes his head.

"You only need you, Derio," he says, and Derio's smile is wide and happy - a little shaky at the edges.

"I...oh, I..."  He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and then leans over a little, reaching out to the small table by the arm of the couch.  It's been made into a small shrine and he's had set up there for a day, with candles and incense and a pack of Spike's smokes and a shot-glass off whiskey on it -  a small statue of a wolf that Xander carved and a sheet of music that Oz wrote.  Derio's fiddle is there as well, and he touches it fleetingly as he picks up something - three strands of beads in rich, shining colors.  He holds them for a moment in his hand.

"These are just - because I want you to be protected my way, too," he says, and Oz rubs his knee, squeezing a little.  Derio separates out a strand of beads and goes up on his knees - crawls the few feet to Spike and loops it over his head.  The beads are very small, strung in a repeating pattern of three black and three green.

"Ogoun is your protector - he who metes out life and death - he who clears the way when Papa Legba has found it.  Ogoun, protect him."  Derio kisses Spike lightly on the mouth and then sinks back - moves so that he's in front of Xander and Xander watches him, feeling as if something is building around them - feeling a low and subtle tingle that he associates with magic - a sort of pressure.  Derio untangles a strand of white beads and lowers them over Xander's head and Xander shivers, his skin rising in gooseflesh.  The pressure - the tingling - is stronger.

"Obatala is your protector - he who creates, he who metes out justice with compa