Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The door to Professor Walsh’s office opened, and she poked her head out. “Agent Franklin?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The young soldier stood up straight, hands behind his back as he waited for orders. 

“At ease, Agent. You can come in.”

He followed her inside, sitting at the chair she gestured to. The room was small, and the office white and drab, with almost all the walls hidden by filing cabinets.

Her desk, a deep mahogany, was the only spot of color in the room, and it was completely bare except for a file and a written report that he recognized as his own. It was evident she didn’t spend much time in this room.

“You came with the new batch of recruits,” Walsh said, flipping open his file as she settled in her own chair. “Your first name is Jesse?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And you’re from Houston.”

He chuckled. “The drawl give it away?”

“That and I can read everything about you in this file, down to the day you lost your first tooth,” the Professor said, smiling at him kindly, if tightly and practiced. “I hear you’ve been doing very well in the field. Your first report, however, is rather sparse, and vague on the details.” 

The disappointed look must have shown on his face, because she gave another kind smile. “Don’t worry. I like things done a certain way, as you’ll come to understand, so I probably would have called you in to discuss it, anyway.” She placed two fingers on his report, spinning it around to face him. “So, we’ll go over it again. You’ll tell me orally what you’ve been up to the past couple nights.”

Jesse swallowed as he stared at his report. Four HSTs in three days. He’d been out with a team all three nights, of course, but he’d been the one to sneak up and take them down, like they were squirrels just waiting to have rocks flung at them, knocking them out of their trees.

But he’d never been the sort to brag about himself. 

That wasn’t what the Professor was looking for, though. She liked facts, details, and he could give those. He cleared his throat, looking at his report of the first night.

“November 7th,” he began. “North sector of campus, at around 2300 hours. I… I took down a male HST. Humanoid, no pulse. Late 20s, medium build, bleached blonde hair.”

The Professor nodded. “A vampire.”

Jesse squinted. “Pardon, Ma’am, but is that really what y’all call them here? That’s what they call themselves, and it seems to just… be giving credence to the fairy tale.”

“A blood-drinker, then,” she replied. “We classify them as best we can here, until further research reveals itself. In time, Washington will consider what best to name these classifications of creatures that we have here, but for now, we use the terms most widely understood.”

That made sense, he supposed. He continued, “November 8th, south sector of campus. At 1700 hundred hours I took down two HSTs, a male and a female. Their prints match records of students on campus. A Veruca Moss and a Daniel Osborne. I think you actually sounded the alert for that one, Ma’am. You saw them first.”

“Yes,” Walsh sighed. “He was one of my students. It’s a shame. And a reminder of the kinds of threats that walk among us, posing as ordinary humans, when in reality they are something quite unnatural.”

“I uh…” Jesse cleared his throat. “I did put ‘werewolf’ for these two, in quotation marks. I wasn’t sure how else to describe them. When I found them they were hairy beasts, but looked human again in the morning.”

“Not following the lunar pattern of turning, as the myths suggest, since you captured them the night before the full moon,” Walsh said, with a wry smile. “It’s nice to have those small scientific victories, at least.”

“I checked in on them again last night. Beasts at night, humans in the day.”

“Indeed,” Walsh said. “You will have noticed, then, that we’ve kept them in the same cell, to observe their mating rituals.” She waved a hand. “But I’m getting off-topic. Continue, please?”

“November 9th,” Jesse said. “The common area of Kresge Hall, at… around 0600 hours. I stumbled across a female HST alone, holding out her hands, with flowers floating in the air above them.” He cleared his throat again. “My team leader Riley Finn wasn’t sure we should take her in, suggested she wasn’t doing anything harmful. As I understand it, she’s part of the Wicca group that’s just finished their orientation here… though they seem to be just a women’s empowerment club. But I know somethin’ unnatural when I see it, Ma’am, and I’m telling y’all that what that girl was doing was satanic worship, or something else that only an HST is capable of.”

“You did very well,” the Professor said. “Thank you for telling me about Finn. He should have made the call to bring her in himself, and not leave you to do it.”

“She’s a student too, Professor. Tara Maclay. She hasn’t done anything odd or supernatural since we locked her up, but in my opinion, that makes her more dangerous. Trying to trick us into thinking we made a mistake, that we didn’t see what’s inside her.”

“Careful, Agent,” she said. “You may be right, but we ask permission to speak freely in my base, do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I apologize.”

“But aside from that,” she said, leaning forward on the desk, clasping her hands together. “You have shown remarkable insight, keen reflexes, and a strong sense of, well, initiative since joining our team. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Agent Franklin. I think you’re going to be wonderful for our operation."

Jesse felt like he was glowing as she reached over to shake his hand. “Thank you, Professor. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. I know you’re gonna make me proud.”

Chapter Text

The Slayer’s chum had his jaws in the neck of the other werewolf.

And while Spike couldn’t say he was surprised, he was a mite bit irritated, too. Wasn’t much in the way of entertainment, with walls so white they could drive you batty, and a cell so clean and sterilized that there weren’t even any interesting smells going on.

He could hear growls, snarls, and whimpering in the cells around him. But directly in front of him, the row of cells on the other end only allowed him the view of three prisoners. 

Well, two, now. Now that the she-wolf was dead.

And the blonde girl sitting hunched in the corner of one cell, pressing her face to her knees, only stirring to eat the drugged meals they gave her, was no fun at all.

Plus, it always twinged at Spike’s heart a bit, seeing gentle girls like that mistreated. If a girl was a bit of a bitch, he figured she could handle herself more.

This one was too pure for whatever mess they’d all been caught up in.

The other cell, for the past two days, had the werewolves. Veruca and Oz, not that he cared to remember their names. Wasn’t his fault that he’d heard them enough times to stick. In their naked, human forms, Veruca had been draping herself all over the boy, kissing and nibbling and trying to get him to play, to sleep with her, to pay her any kind of attention.

And he kept pushing her away. Spike was as monogamous as they came, and he understood if the kid was trying to be loyal to that little red-headed chit back home.

But even so, he had stronger balls than Spike, to constantly fend off a willing, naked, wild woman like that when there wasn’t much else to do except sit there and be bored and terrified and confused.

Still, it had been amusing for Spike to watch, and to hear them argue and snap at each other. Veruca started screaming at times, when she realized how trapped she was, and launching herself at the glass that zapped her back to the ground would have been funny, if it weren’t so sodding depressing.

Because he knew how the girl felt. Being locked in a cage, when you were meant to be out being violent and wicked and free… it was like cutting off a limb. 

When the wolves changed, so did Oz’s opinion of his cell mate, apparently, because they had the wildest animal sex Spike had ever seen in two beasts of that strength. All night long, pausing on occasion for brief naps, but then going right back at it until they were human again.

It made sense, then, that on the third night of their transformation, Oz would have snapped. They fought, biting and scratching and snarling, drawing so much blood on both sides that Spike honestly couldn’t tell who would be the victor.

But now Oz was chewing away at Veruca’s hairy neck, and Spike felt the dismay of his lost entertainment slowly stolen away by the jealousy of the blood that was currently dribbling down Oz’s jaws. 

Here Spike was, starving and restless and only drinking his packaged blood in little sips at a time to avoid being knocked out, and the wolf who was human most of the time anyway was getting a full-course meal, and couldn’t even enjoy it properly.

Even the poor blonde in the other cell deserved it more than Oz did. Not that she would have appreciated it, either.

God, Spike hated being a prisoner. 

The noise in the hall grew still, as Oz finished his meal and laid down to sleep, and Spike realized that the blonde had lifted her head, listening intently. There was still a constant rumble of the other demons in their cells, but she moved to the edge of hers, pressed up as close as possible, as if she could see what was happening next door if she craned her neck far enough.

“One of ‘em’s dead,” Spike supplied helpfully. “The boy tore out her throat.”

The girl looked at him, with wide, puffy eyes stuck in a pale face. “Oh,” she said quietly, voice shaking like she’d been crying. “Oh… he… he’s going to feel terrible when he realizes it.”

Spike snorted. “She was bloody asking for it, in my opinion. Not that I blame her. Just that I don’t blame him either, I guess.”

She shook her head. “I n-never met a demon before,” she said softly. “And I haven’t e-even met the ones next to me, but I thought… I mean… they sounded so human.”

“Look who’s talking, pet. So, what kind of creature are you then, anyway?”

Her face looked sad, and she ducked her head, hiding behind a mask of blonde hair. “I d-don’t know.”

“You don’t?” Spike tried to consider how it was possible that someone didn’t know what they were. “Well… what are your abilities? Your family have any special marks about ‘em?”

“The women in my family have demon in them,” she said quietly, her face flushing a deep red, like it was embarrassing to admit. “It… doesn’t develop fully until we’re twenty, and I only just turned nineteen. B-but I don’t know what kind it is.”

Well, that was even more curious. He’d never heard of a demon that only came out in the women. Even less so the kind that only appeared once you reached a certain age. Either you were a demon, or you weren’t, or you were turned into one later on in life. Didn’t exactly come along naturally.

“Got a name?” he asked.

“Tara.”

“Spike. You any good at 20 Questions?”

She raised her head, giving him a confused frown. “Are you… trying to befriend me?”

“Absolutely not,” he scoffed. “Why, is it working?”

She still looked terrified. But she managed to give him a feeble, lopsided grin. 

Chapter Text

They cleaned up his cell. Dragged the body away, and clapped him in handcuffs as they mopped up every drop of blood, every fleck of viscera, every strand of fur, from the floor and walls and his own body.

Oz hadn’t realized that a werewolf would stay in that form after sunrise if they died that way.

He’d arrived naked, his clothes long since gone since the night of his first transformation, and subsequent capture. They hadn’t given him and Veruca anything to cover themselves with while they’d been together. 

So he really shouldn’t have expected anything else now that he was alone. 

All he had were these silver bracelets on his wrists, burning his demon-infested skin more than they should have, and standing bare and exposed in a hallway full of soldiers and other imprisoned monsters.

At least he could get a look at his next-door neighbor. She was politely averting her eyes, but she met his gaze once and offered a shy, sympathetic smile.

Whatever she was, his heart felt marginally calmed by that look. Possibly that was her power. Getting people to feel relaxed in a situation that left no room for relaxation otherwise.

But he’d gladly take the reprieve.

He was shoved back in the cell when they’d finished, removing the handcuffs to reveal red bands and welts around his wrists.

“Werewolves and silver, huh?” one of them asked, and laughed. “Guess that’s where that part of the myth comes from.”

A plate of plain hamburger patties and a bowl of water was shoved into his room, and he was mildly surprised to see that it was the same amount he’d been receiving when Veruca was with him.

Clearly they were meant to be fighting over their portions and drinking from the same bowl. 

Like dogs did.

Oz shuddered, poking himself in the chest, hating the wolf with all his heart, wishing there was a way to stake it and make it go poof .

“You okay?” the girl next to him asked softly.

His whole body was trembling, and had been, he realized, since he’d woken up as a murderer.

“I didn’t mean to kill her,” he mumbled. “I didn’t… the wolf takes over, and it’s… total blackout. I didn’t… it wasn’t me , it was it… ”

“Oh, don’t start playing around with those technicalities,” Spike scoffed. “Demon becomes you. You don’t become it. Was him takin’ the reins, but only ‘cause you wanted it. If it had been your little girlfriend, she would have been safe as houses.”

“Spike,” the girl chided softly.

“What? Sooner the man stops acting like he’s got an unwanted houseguest and realizes it’s just another aspect of his personality, the better.”

“I know you didn’t m-mean to kill her,” the girl said. “It sounds like she was goading you, and the wolf just had his buttons pressed too many times.” She raised her voice a little louder, and said, “So, maybe we all should be careful about pressing the buttons of any demons around us.”

Spike snorted. 

There were a lot of things Oz was confused about that had apparently happened the night before, but Spike and the girl having some kind of friendly banter now was high among them. The last he’d seen of Spike was in L.A., trying to get the Gem of Amara away from him and back to Angel.

He wondered when Spike had come back to Sunnydale, and how long he’d been locked up.

“I’m Tara,” the girl said quietly. “And, um, I heard you and Veruca calling each other by their names, so. Oz, right?”

He didn’t answer. He pulled his knees up, burying his face in them. She was trying to be kind, and he was reassured by her voice, but he felt… 

Ashamed. That was the word. Ashamed of his actions, ashamed of his wolf, ashamed of his nudity. Even the red welts on his wrists were so freakishly shameful.

“Spike says he knows you,” Tara continued. “S-sort of.”

“Know he’s a bloody do-gooder, running around with the Slayer ‘n all,” Spike spat. 

Tara sighed. “Spike, I already told you, I’m a do-gooder, too. Or, I’m t-trying to be. I’m a witch, remember? Working with light magic, not… not dark.”

“Sounds like a sugar-free way of doin’ things, if you ask me. Magic is magic, who bloody cares what color it is as long as it’s getting the job done?”

“Believe it or not,” Tara said, now back to Oz. “He and I were playing word games for a little bit, before you woke up. U-um, if you… if you don’t feel like talking, um, that’s okay. But we’re here if… if you want to play, or talk, or anything.”

She’d meant it kindly, but the offer to play, even innocently, reminded Oz too much of Veruca’s attempts at seducing him. He’d craved her, and hated himself for it. She’d been all over him, touching and teasing, and he could smell and feel the results of their copulation as wolves.

And then he’d killed her. He shuddered again, drawing even tighter into himself.

“Look, mate,” Spike said, and his voice was softer, even if sounded angry, like he couldn’t believe he was saying the words. “Know it’s a rough gig. Hard to feel the blood on your hands at first. But you don’t need to despair like the rest of us poor sods. Have an in with the bloody champion herself, don’t you? Betcha the Slayer will be busting down these doors any second to rescue you.”

Hope gleamed in Oz’s chest at the truth of the words, even if he felt sick at the thought of what he was putting Willow through, and that his actions already might have cost him his relationship with her.

But he raised his head, rubbing idly at one of the welts on his burn-cuffs. 

“Tara,” he said, voice trembling and scratchy. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said back, voice warm and encouraging.

And it was something.

Chapter Text

Tara had always been a shy, terrified child. Her father didn’t have any patience with it, and expected her to speak strongly and without a stutter in front of him, or anyone else outside of the family.

But her mother… her mother had always said she carried a lot of strength in her, and that it just needed a chance to prove itself.

So Tara was trying. She was trying to be strong, in the face of this unspeakable terror. She was trying to keep her energies focused, keep her breathing and her aura at peace, so that if and when she escaped from here, she wouldn’t be broken by it.

But every day, it seemed, something new and horrible happened to try and shatter her peace and what meager scraps of bravery she could summon. More demons were dragged in, either one that looked like something from the deepest pits of hell, or worse, ones that were crying and bleeding and looking as scared as she was.

Oz killed his cellmate. Spike was taken away for mouthing off to one of the soldiers, and he came back half-conscious, with bruises all over his face.

And now Tara herself was sitting in a dentist chair, a bright light shining in her eyes and making them water. She squeezed them shut, praying to Gaia for courage and strength.

“Now, Jesse,” a woman was saying. “Tell me again what you saw when you bagged this one?”

“Flowers, levitating above her hands, Professor. Like you see in them exorcist movies.”

“So, then, Miss Maclay,” the Professor said, her face a dark shape as she leaned into Tara’s vision. “Why don’t you show us what you can do? We’re all very eager to see.”

Tears leaked out of Tara’s eyes, but even if she wanted to, even if she didn’t think they were going to slice her open and forcibly remove her magic, she was too terrified to try.

Magic needed a force of will, and right now she felt like she was flying to pieces. 

The Professor sighed, and wheeled on her stool over to a drawer. “This didn’t have to be difficult. But I’m afraid we can’t just let a dangerous… whatever-you-are back into the world, not without knowing what you’re capable of. So—”

Something jabbed into Tara’s arm, and it couldn’t have been anything worse than a needle, but all at once her blood turned to ice, and she felt like her limbs were seizing and bending in the wrong direction.

She screamed, and writhed in her seat, and heard a crash as something flew into… something else.

Her hands were raised, and shaking, and her vision was swirling with black spots, but she could see the two dark human-shaped blurs bending close to each other, like they were consulting about something.

“Fascinating,” was all the Professor said when she returned to Tara’s side.

Another needle pierced her arm, but this time it only brought darkness.

***

There was a bandage around her wrist when she woke up, back in her cell. She tore it off to reveal a fresh slit in her wrist, tied up with thick, angry stitches.

Her daily sack of rations fell through the roof, and when she opened it, found a tiny capsule with two pills inside.

“Pain killers,” Spike muttered from across the way.

She looked up at him, shaking her head to clear her muzzy vision. “W-what?”

His back was to the side wall, hands dangling listlessly between bent knees, but his head lolled slightly to look at her. “Lab coats. Put somethin’ in you, yeah? Or took somethin’ out. Can feel the stitches in my scalp, and been gettin’ those two soddin’ pills ever since they last hauled me away. Don’t actually dull the pain much, course. Just make you sleepy as hell.”

Tara’s arm felt sore enough to risk it, even with Spike telling her it wouldn’t help. He was always careful not to let his food put him to sleep, but she’d never cared about that, so swallowed the pills along with the rest of her meal.

“They took the wolf,” Spike mumbled after a moment. “When they brought you back. Probably gettin’ somethin done to him too, now.”  He shifted, laying down on the bare white floor, closing his eyes.

“I thought you weren’t letting them drug you,” Tara said softly.

“Man’s gotta rest sometime.” He yawned. “And I’m bloody sick of feeling this pounding in my skull with not enough blood to heal it up.”

It was an understandable thing, and yet Tara felt an odd pang, like she’d taken for granted that he would be awake, keeping guard, while she was asleep. Even in the first days where they hadn’t spoken, she’d noticed that he was pacing his cell, tracking everything he could.

It was an irrational comfort, because not that he could’ve or likely would’ve done anything to save her if she’d needed it.

But, even though she could feel her own medication tugging her towards sleep, she propped herself up against the wall, and kept her eyes open as long as she could, trying to be strong and brave like her mother had believed she could, and keeping vigil for her vampire friend. 

Chapter Text

The prison cells were underground, Spike thought he could tell that much for certain. And being underground, with bright fluorescent lights shining round the clock, while you were kept half-starved and half-drugged and all the way in pain and isolation, made it very difficult to keep the time.

Couldn’t have been more than two weeks, surely. He was tired, all the time, like he was growing stagnant and frail without getting to hunt and feed properly. They’d dragged him out to fight some of the soldiers in a pit, once or twice, but had frowned when he’d defeated his opponents, and had doped him up and stuffed him back in his cell.

They were poking around in his brain, not that you could have seen from the outside. He still had just the one neat little line of stitches, hidden beneath his hair. Tara had a scar in her arm, and Oz had one along his neck, which he claimed hampered his ability to talk very loudly. 

Both of them, it seemed, were being subjected to painful stimulation when they were taken off for their experiments. Trying to coax the magic out of Tara, and the wolf out of Oz.

Didn’t much matter though, why they were here, what the plans were for all of them, how long they’d been trapped.

Because Spike could both see of them starting to crack under the torture. Both of them were soft-spoken and conscientious, not really prone to fits of violence, at least not without their respective demons helping them out.

But Spike had seen that look in others before. They were close to either going mad, or trying to flee the next time they had a chance, or just laying down and quietly dying rather than having to endure any more torment.

“Hey,” he said, kicking his glass casing to make the loud sound of electrical zappings, jolting Oz out of a dead-eyed stare at nothing. “Wolfboy. When’s that Slayer of yours supposed to get here and bust us out?”

Oz turned unfocused eyes to Spike’s direction. “I don’t think she can.”

“Well, that’s a load of bollocks,” Spike huffed. “Seen her accomplish some mighty impressive feats in her time. And I know she wouldn’t leave a man behind.”

Oz just shook her head. “I don’t… really want her to try. She’d be putting all of them in danger.”

All of them meaning his girl, of course. 

“Danger,” Tara whispered from her own cell. “Danger is a warning, is it danger anymore if you’re right in the middle of it?”

“Tara,” Spike said warningly. “Hey, now. We talked about this.”

Tara ran a finger down her glass prison, blue electricity following in its wake as it zapped her. But she didn’t flinch. “ Such lissom limbs no more shall run, ” she murmured. “ On the green earth beneath the sun. So fair a maid no more shall be… from dawn to dusk, from sun to sea.”

“Come now, Luthien,” Spike sighed. “You start quoting maudlin poetry at me and… I’ll feel compelled to join you, and we’ll both slip into madness. And what’s the sodding wolf gonna do without us? He doesn't have any poetry to bust out.”

“I can write songs, though,” Oz said, and his voice had a bit more spark than before, so Spike directed his attention back to him.

“Look,” he hissed. “We need to get her out, yeah? You and me, none of us will make it on our own, and she’s not gonna last much longer. So—”

He stopped as the familiar tread of army boots started marching down the hall. The demons around them had been rotated out so many times in the days they’d been here; none of them, apparently, coming back from their own tests and torture, and it was anyone’s guess who they were here for now.

Two lab coats and three soldiers opened Spike’s cage, and he snarled and launched at them with what pitiful strength he still had left. They plunged a relaxant in his arm, and wrestled a mess of chains around his arms and legs, locking him to the wall, like they’d already anticipated his intent to break free and were making it even more difficult for him.

He slumped, dropping listlessly against them, before he realized that another soldier had stopped outside of the wolf’s cell. “Oz?” he asked, with an actual human gasp of disbelief. “My God… what are you doing here? What did you…”

Oz looked at him with his own confusion and terror. “Riley. You’re… one of them?”

“We capture monsters,” Riley said. “Not students, not harmless…” He broke off, pinching his nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I… I would have come to see you sooner. I can’t… do anything for you, but I’ll see about getting you some clothes at least, okay?”

Oz didn’t answer.

“Buffy and Willow…” Riley swallowed. “They haven’t been in class. Wasn’t sure why, but I guess… they’re probably looking for you, aren’t they?”

Oz just looked at him impassively.

“And I can’t tell them where you are.” Riley gave another tired sigh, and rubbed the bridge of his nose again. “Oz… I can’t tell you how sorry I am, man. About all of this.”

“I want my guitar,” Oz said.

Riley shook his head. “That’s… really not possible.”

“Then just give me the strings, or a guitar pick, at least. I need something .”

Riley swallowed. “I’ll… I’ll see what I can do.”

The soldiers sealed Spike up in his cell again, and they all clumped back down the hall.

Tara’s eyes had closed, and her lips were moving in what Spike hoped was just a prayer of gratitude. 

Oz looked over at him, eyes flashing. “If they bring me some guitar strings, I can unlock your chains.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at him, surprised how impressed he felt. Then a long slow grin spread across his face. 

They had a purpose. Now they just needed a plan. 

Chapter Text

Oz got his guitar strings.

He hadn’t actually expected to. There really wasn’t any comfort in holding guitar strings with no guitar to attach them to, and Oz was sure Riley would figure out that they were intended to be a break-out tool.

So Riley must have really thought he was pitiful enough to need loose guitar strings for solace. 

They weren’t the best for turning into a lock-picking tool, but Oz recognized the brand of chains binding Spike to the wall. The cuffs were easy to spring if you triggered them properly.

He tested it by prying open the fan vent that was in one panel of the wall. It worked, but he blinked in alarm at what he saw facing him, and immediately put the vent back in place.

“Spike,” he said.

“Yeah?” 

“They’ve got cameras on us.”

“Yeah, can bloody well see them from here, can’t I? Ones in the ceiling won’t have a clear picture if you hide what you’re doing, though.”

“No, the fans. They’re fake fans. They’re cameras. So someone probably just saw that I have a tool. And found their secret camera.”

“Bugger,” Spike hissed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Doesn't matter, does it?” Tara asked listlessly. “If they can see us, they can hear us.”

“Doubt it, pet,” Spike said. “Or they would have heard Danny Boy and me hatch a plan to escape and done something about it by now. With all the racket in these cells, can’t imagine anyone wanting to listen to that audio, even if the cameras are equipped with it.”

“Okay,” Tara said, and drew a deep breath. “But they did see Oz with the tool.”

“Even if they didn’t,” Oz said. “If they watch the footage back later, or something, we’re still on borrowed time.”

Spike cursed again, kicking at the door, making his chains rattle and the glass zap with electricity.

Oz watched the movement curiously, then watched and listened to the other demons nearby, roaring and snarling in fury at the noise Spike had just kicked up.

“We’re gonna have to be loud,” Oz said.

“L-loud?” Tara whispered.

“Thought whatever they did to you means you can’t raise your voice, mate,” Spike said.

“Well, I’ll have to do it anyway,” Oz said. “Next time they come for one of us. The other two are gonna have to be loud, and bang on their glass. They’ll open the doors to sedate us, maybe only one at at time, but still, then two of us would be free at once. And we can get a key card for the third.”

The other two were silent.

“And then what?” Tara asked.

“Well… we run.”

Spike snorted. “Yeah, right into the arms of the next pod of army blokes or scientists with a needle. Besides, we don’t know our way out.”

“Air vents,” Tara said quietly. “I mean, that’s what always works in the m-movies.”

Spike considered. “I s’pose, if we can get to one without them seeing us.”

“The noise will make all the other demons rowdy,” Oz said. “They’ll be chasing us, sure, but they can’t ignore everything else.”

Spike groaned, and glanced at Oz’s pocket, where he’d tucked away his tool. “Reckon I like our chances much better with me getting out of these chains than staying in them.”

***

Spike was the next one they came for. 

All three of them had skipped their meals, but hidden them out of sight, lying down and pretending to have been sleeping their medications off. 

The scientists unlocked Spike’s cell, and Oz hurled himself against his, roaring with all his might.

A sharp pain in his neck shot up into his skull and down his spine, and his throat felt raw and bleeding as he crashed to the ground, gasping and unable to cry out again.

And Tara let out a screech he’d never heard from her, while pounding on her own glass and making it zap.

They left Oz alone, and came for Tara, while Spike, still in chains, was being strapped to a gurney. Oz could see Tara when she pushed her way into the hall, and she shouted a word in Latin, throwing a pink cloud of mist up into the air. 

The scientists backed away in horror, even though Tara cried out and clutched her arm, falling to her knees. 

Spike was tearing his way out of the gurney, snarling and swinging, and yelped when his fist collided with one of their faces, but swooped down and picked up the man’s dropped key card anyway.

Oz sprung Spike’s chains the minute he was free, and they ran, Oz and Tara shoving past the remaining scientists in their way.

Alarm bells sounded, and the lights flashed red, but the demons did rattle in their cages, causing lots of confused shouting and pounding of feet. The trio rounded the corner, and Tara collided face first into Riley Finn’s chest.

She staggered backwards, and fell, and Spike swooped her up with no hesitation.

Riley stared at them, mouth opening and closing, and fumbled for his walkie. “Alpha Team,” he said. “We have a code red, three hostiles are on the loose, I need immediate backup…”

And then he turned, and ran. 

Spike and Tara and Oz stared, before Oz pointed at an air shaft. “There.”

His tool pried it open and he climbed in. Spike boosted Tara up, Oz pulling her into his arms as he scooted further back into the shaft.

Spike replaced the vent as best he could once he was inside, and suddenly the room was full of soldiers, with Riley at the head, gesticulating wildly and barking orders.

The doors surrounding the room slammed shut, and Tara let out a soft cry.

“Shut it,” Spike snarled. “Oz, you waitin’ for a bloody invitation? Move , already.”

And Oz crawled on shaky knees through the airshaft of their military prison, unseen by any of his captors, with his two friends behind him.

Chapter Text

Tara shivered in the cold November air. Southern California was so different from her own hometown. Everything was always sunny and warm here, even in the winter. She missed snow, but she loved everything being warm and bright.

But the cold was biting at her tonight.

She jumped when Spike’s heavy leather coat fell across her shoulders. She clutched the lapels close, and glanced up at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. “You’re not serious,” he was saying to Oz. “We go to Red’s dorm and there could be two dozen soldiers there looking for us, waiting to drag us back in.”

“I said we had to find Willow,” Oz replied quietly. “I didn’t say we were going to her dorm.”

“She bloody lives at her dorm, don’t she? Not like we’ll find her at home.”

“We have to try,” Oz said. “Riley said she wasn’t in class. So she might not be on campus anymore.”

Tara’s right arm felt like ice, even inside the heaviness of the coat. It was difficult to keep her feet moving along, but she managed to follow them through the center of town, and onto a suburban street.

The lights were all off in front of the house Oz stopped in front of. 

“No one home,” Spike pointed out.

Oz didn’t answer. He stared at the silent house, laying a soft hand on the front door, before finally turning around. “We’ll try Buffy.”

Spike sputtered. “You off your bleeding rocker ? Waiting for her to come rescue you was one thing, but she catches sight of me anywhere near you when you’ve been missing, and she’ll—”

“Hey,” Oz said, squinting at her. “Tara, what’s—”

She wondered what the rest of his question was going to be. He was interrupted by her mumbling, “I think I need to sit down,” and sinking onto the front porch, Spike’s leather puddling around her. 

Both of the others instantly crouched down in front of her, and Oz reached out to feel her forehead. “She’s too warm,” he said softly.

That couldn’t be right. She felt so cold. Her arm could have been an icicle by now.

“We have to try Buffy’s,” Oz said. “Even if she’s not there, her mom might be. You know her mom, right?”

Spike grumbled something that might have been a yes. He turned around, offering his back to Tara. “Hop on, Luthien.”

She wound her arms around his neck, clinging to his back as he stood up with a grunt, hefting her weight. “If the Slayer stakes me,” Spike said. “You lot are gonna hear a pile of dust tell you ‘ I told you so .’”

***

The walk to wherever they were going next seemed longer, even if Tara’s feet were no longer touching the ground. Spike’s skin and body were cold, but oddly Tara felt less so, now that she was being given a break from having to move or walk or think about anything.

Oz and Spike were silent, moving with the stealthy tread of predators, but Tara’s rumbling stomach broke the quiet.

“Spike,” she mumbled. “I’m hungry.”

“I know, sweet,” he said gently. “We’ll get you something to eat soon, promise. Slayer’s mum makes a decent cup of cocoa, if nothing else.”

It was odd, having two different accounts of Buffy in her head. Spike always spoke of her with a sneer, like she was a dangerous and crafty Valkyrie, flying through the sky with her swords and stakes, enacting swift vengeance on any evil.

And Oz always just spoke of her as Willow’s best friend… the girl they’d known in high school, someone who saved the world a bunch and always knew what to do when something went wrong. He seemed very fond of her, but acted so matter-of-fact about his friendship with her.

But even though both of them told her Buffy slayed demons, they were always quick to assure Tara that she’d be safe from her.

“ Evil demons,” Spike had pointed out. “Not pure doves like you.”

“She’s sympathetic,” Oz had said. “She wants to give people a chance to prove they can be good, even if it’s against their nature.”

So even though she thought she might faint from hunger and she wasn’t sure if she had truly escaped from that cell, Tara looked up at Buffy’s house with a great deal of curiosity.

It was an ordinary two-story bungalow, but there were lights on in the lower windows, and somehow the glow spilling out was… warm. Inviting.

Like California weather.

Oz rapped on the door, and it opened almost immediately to reveal a girl, with hair even more blonde than Tara’s own, the light behind her giving her a halo effect, like she really was a Valkyrie.

She was so small. But she held herself like she was a giant.

Her eyes looked exhausted, but she gave a small gasp when she saw them. “Oz,” she murmured, and stepped forward, enfolding him in a hug. “My God, we… we’ve been looking everywhere for you…”

And then her eyes lifted to Spike, and turned hard and scowly. “Spike,” she said, with as much of a sneer as Spike always talked about her. “What the hell, you took him?”

Spike scoffed, hefting Tara’s weight on his back. “I look like I’ve been in any shape to do a decent kidnapping?”

“We were imprisoned,” Oz said. “Me and Spike and Tara, in a military jail for demons. He’s safe, Buffy, he helped us get out. And we’ve been underfed, and I think Tara has a fever.”

The soft look on Buffy’s face was back, and her eyes darted over all three of them, just once, before she stepped back, and held her door open.

“Gonna need an invite, here,” Spike said.

She scowled at him, and turned away, following Oz inside.

Spike shifted Tara’s weight, and took a tentative step forward. 

There was no barrier, so he stepped inside to Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s house.

Chapter Text

It was a mildly uncomfortable thought that the Slayer’s living room was such a damned familiar place, now.

Not half as uncomfortable as other things that were currently going on, but still close.

The first thing Buffy had done was take charge, which, so far, was the most normal part of the evening. She’d waved Spike to the couch, and said firmly, “Set her down here,” and then proceeded to remove Spike’s coat, and instead wrap a blanket around Tara’s shoulders.

Tara had reached a shaking hand out to Spike, so he sat down next to her, and she cuddled into his side, clutching his arm. He choked in alarm, and then sputtered and choked again when Buffy wrapped a blanket around his shoulders as well.

“Stay there,” Buffy ordered. “Oz, come with me. Willow and the others just left, so you should probably try to call her.”

She started to head towards the kitchen, but then turned back to the couch. “Tara, right?”

“Y-yes,” Tara whispered faintly.

“Soup and hot chocolate sound good?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll have some too, if you’re offerin,” Spike said, giving Buffy as cocky a grin as he could. He knew she’d give him no such thing, but since he doubted she had a drop of blood on hand that wasn’t in someone’s body, teasing her through his hunger was the next best thing.

And Buffy glared at him, those lush pink lips pursed in a scowl, those deadly green eyes trying to stake him on sight alone, before turning on her heel and leading Oz towards the phone.

He listened to cupboards banging and Oz leaving brief messages for his girl. He looked down at Tara, curled up next to him with her blanket swallowing her pale form.

“Hangin’ in there, Luthien?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” she breathed, her voice even quieter than usual. “I’m tired.”

He made a soft clucking sound, feeling her forehead. Not that he really could tell the presence of a fever the way humans always seemed to be able to.

But her skin did feel a tad warmer than it should have. He tugged his arm free of her grasp and wrapped it around her instead, holding her even closer to him, wondering at the caretaker instincts that were so deeply ingrained in him that they busted out for this girl with very little prompting.

Buffy came back in with a tray, balancing glasses of water, bowls of soup, and mugs of hot cocoa. Spike stared at the food that was being handed to him. “Vamps don’t eat people food, Slayer,” he said.

“Then you shouldn’t have asked for any,” she snapped, and then looked at Tara. “Sorry the only kind of soup we have is Alphabet. But there’s lots.”

She disappeared into the kitchen again, and Spike watched Tara shift until she could reach her bowl. “Best not eat too fast,” he warned. “And stop when you start feeling full. Way they’ve been starving us, too much could make you sick.”

She nodded, but dug into her bowl eagerly all the same.

And Spike was going to refuse his own food on principle, but it was hot, and would do its best to warm him, and the cocoa would be good, even if it wasn’t her mum’s. 

And even if this wouldn’t sate the true hunger he was feeling in his gut, it would at least be a good distraction for it.

“My mom used to tell me I would learn all the words in the world if I ate enough Alphabet Soup,” Tara said, and giggled. “I asked if it would teach me bad words, and she said no, not those.”

Spike chuckled in return. “You’re older now. Maybe you’ll learn the bad words after all.”

“What kind of demon is she?” Buffy was asking in the kitchen. Her voice was soft, like she was trying not to be overheard, but Spike listened intently anyway.

“She doesn’t know,” Oz replied. “It develops in the women when they’re twenty. Or something.”

“Weird,” Buffy said. “Does she know what kind her mom is?”

“She doesn’t have one.”

“Oh,” Buffy said softly.

Spike looked down at Tara again.

He hadn’t known, not until he got a real good scent of her crawling out of that military air vent, that there was no demon in this girl.

Of course, he could still be wrong. Could be he wouldn’t be able to detect it until she finished developing.

But right now she smelled human, all the way through.

Wouldn’t do to tell her, though. Girl likely felt so safe with him because she thought she was a monster, too, and he couldn’t take that away from her. Besides, in a year she’d know anyway, if nothing happened on her birthday, so what was the harm in keeping it to himself?

“You look so wolfy with your facial hair,” Buffy said. “I almost couldn’t even tell it was you.”

“Yeah.”

“So, I don’t know if you’ll want to go home with Willow, if she even gets the message tonight. My mom’s out of town for the weekend, so I can use her bed, and Tara can have mine. If you stay you can have the couch, and Spike can sleep in the basement.”

“Spike kind of thinks you’re gonna stake him.”

“I’m not gonna stake him. I wouldn’t have given him my precious, weirdly plentiful stock of Alphabet Soup if I was just gonna stake him.”

“He’d kind of like to hear that from you.”

“Oh, I just bet he would.”

Spike smirked, and looked down at Tara again. She’d eaten half her soup and drunk half her cocoa, and now she was curled up against him again, eyes fluttering shut.

“I’d rather stay here,” Oz said softly. “With them.”

Buffy started to answer, and Spike tried to quell the odd feeling in his chest, but just then the front door burst open, and Willow tore into the house. 

Chapter Text

Oz didn’t realize how terrified he’d been of seeing Willow again until she was there, launching herself at him, crying and kissing him all over like he didn’t have two weeks’ worth of stink on him. 

He also hadn’t realized just how good it would feel to be in her arms again, to know she was safe, and still his, even after all he’d done to her.

The evening was sort of a blur, after that. Willow refused to let him talk anymore, and seemed to not even notice Spike and Tara, instead marching Oz up to the bathroom and making sure he showered, then dressing him in clothes she’d brought from his place, before tucking him in Buffy’s bed, and climbing in beside him.

And by that point, Oz was so exhausted and shaky and desperate not to be separated from her that he couldn’t worry about anything else, and dropped off to sleep with her fingers running through his too-furry hair.

***

“She shouldn’t go back to her dorm,” Buffy was saying, when Oz and Willow came down the next morning. 

“Well, where the bloody hell is she gonna go then? She won’t want to stay here, pet, bird’s too skittish to infringe on your hospitality for long.”

“She’ll have to suck it up for today, at least. I should get her some other clothes… she’s taller than me, but some of my mom’s stuff might fit her.”

Tara was lying on the couch, her hand in Spike’s who was sitting on the coffee table. He looked freshly showered, though still in his clothes from before, but still exhausted.

And Buffy, turning to smile at him as he came down the stairs, looked even more exhausted than she had the night before. “Morning,” she said. 

Oz nodded at Tara. “How is she?”

“Rough night.” Spike ran his free hand through his hair. “Fussed a lot.”

“I took her temperature a little bit ago,” Buffy said. “If she had a fever before, she doesn’t now. So, um, my cooking skills aren’t always the most celebrated thing, but uh… I could attempt to make pancakes or something?”

“Oh, let me,” Willow said, eager for a way to help, and bounded off to the kitchen.

Tara whimpered, and stirred, eyes opening with a gasp, as she squeezed Spike’s hand. 

“You’re all right, pet,” Spike murmured. “You’re out of that place, yeah?”

Buffy crouched down next to the couch. “Tara, honey,” she said gently. “I’m gonna get you some clean clothes, if you want to take a shower? Or a bath, or whatever you feel like.”

Tara’s eyes were wide as she whispered, “Slayer.”

Buffy gave a soft laugh. “Did Spike teach you that word?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “You’re safe, I’m not gonna hurt you. I won’t hurt him, even. Just for you.”

Tara nodded, and swallowed. “I… I would like a bath.”

“Okay,” Buffy said. “Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”

Tara took her hand, and Oz took her place on the couch as they went up the stairs.

“Get any kip?” Spike asked.

“More than I have been,” Oz shrugged. “I’ll take the win.”

Silence lapsed until Buffy returned, and the first thing she did was wave Spike off the coffee table. “Move,” she said. “Your butt is wrinkling my mom’s magazines.”

“I’ll move when I please, Slayer. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to give a prisoner of war anything he wants?”

“What I heard was that you got out of a military jail, so that pretty much makes you an ex-convict.”

“Yeah? Then you should be quaking in your boots around me, love, don’t know what vile acts I  committed to get thrown into the slammer, do you?”

“Hmm, I’m guessing biting and feeding was probably somewhere on that list.”

“More than what I’ve been doing since I got here, that’s for sure.”

“I told you, I called Xander to bring you some blood, so just hold your freaking horses.”

He placed a hand over his heart. “I’m feeling used and abused here, Slayer. I’ll have you know I’ve just been through a very trying ordeal. Oz, tell her.”

“Oz, tell him that it’s hard to feel sorry for someone who’s such a big pain in my ass.”

“Oz, tell her that I'd have drained her dryer than the Sahara by now if those military blokes hadn’t done something to me.”

“Oz, tell him that—” Buffy stopped, and blinked. “Wait, huh? What do you mean they did something to you?”

Spike shrugged. “Don’t know. Can’t be violent towards anyone anymore. Wasn’t workin’ for awhile, and they had to chain me to a wall ‘cause I was too dangerous.” He smirked, licking his teeth. “But it must have finally clicked on. And not just me. Did somethin’ to Tara and Danny Boy, too.”

Buffy looked back and forth between Oz and Spike, eyes widening with actual concern and fear for both of them, before her head snapped towards the kitchen, and she cried, “ Willow! ”

***

“They’re… implants,” Willow said, voice horrified and a little bit awed, after she’d scanned her borrowed handheld x-ray over Oz’s neck, Tara’s wrist, Spike’s skull. “Like these tiny metal chips… they seem to be trying to prevent whatever makes you… different.”

“Which is why I get a migraine whenever I try to harm someone,” Spike said. 

“And why my arm turns to ice when I use magic,” Tara murmured.

Willow looked at Oz, tears filling her eyes. “You said it hurts when you raise your voice,” she said. “But if it’s trying to suppress the wolf… and the wolf’s not there… then it’s doing the best it can. No barking or howling or even talking too loud. They’ve put a pain chip on your voice .”

Oz considered. “It’s a good thing Devon’s lead singer for Dingoes.”

“That’s it,” Buffy said. “You three are gonna tell me everything you know about where you were. And somehow, we’re gonna tear that place apart.”

Chapter Text

Oz and Spike’s friends were so…

Well, Tara was still forming an opinion of them all.

They were energetic, and when Willow and Xander and Buffy and Mr. Giles were all in a room together, the conversation never seemed to ebb. Everyone always had something to say to add on to what had been said before, and their ideas bounced around like a pinball machine.

Xander’s girlfriend Anya made comments when she wanted to, and Spike had plenty of his own little jibes to add. But Oz stayed mostly silent, playing with Willow’s fingers, giving a soft smile at the scene around him.

And Tara stayed cuddled into Spike’s arm as she sat on Buffy’s couch with him, holding tight to the one person she felt really safe with besides Oz, and watching as half of him stayed still for her sake, and the other half waved his arm and interjected loudly whenever there was a comment made he didn’t like.

“We can’t very well go in and storm a military base without knowing more, Buffy,” Mr. Giles was saying. “It’s not as if you can go to war against the whole country.”

“Yeah, I know ,” Buffy sighed. “Plus I wouldn’t want to kill them, anyway. Well, that’s not true. I’d kind of like to kill them. But I won’t, so, I’m thinking I just blow up all their equipment and call it a day.”

“Sure,” Anya said. “If you want to pay about a trillion dollars in property damage.”

“They must be something more than just an ordinary science lab,” Willow said. “We tried spell after spell to find out where Oz was, and everything just fizzled out. They’re keeping it hidden with more than just security cameras or whatever.”

“And if it’s magic, magic we can fight,” Xander said, rubbing his hands together in glee. “With… uh… more magic, I guess.”

“What about these sodding scraps of metal inside us?” Spike demanded. “I’m all for mass destruction and lots of bloody corpses, but whatever those lab coats did to us, I bloody well want them to reverse it.”

“What if there are other demons in there?” Willow asked. “Or… you know, not-really-demons, like Oz?”

Buffy gave her a sympathetic look. “I can’t just save all of them, Will. Some of them I’m probably supposed to slay, anyway.”

“And there is the matter of your school to consider,” Mr. Giles said. “The professor of your Psych class and her TA being heavily involved with this operation is… concerning, to say the least.”

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed. “Guess Maggie really is the evil bitch monster of death. I didn’t think she meant that so literally.”

“And Riley,” Willow said. “He’s been so nice to us. I can’t believe…” She shook her head, and put her arms around Oz. “But I hate him, for everything he did to you.”

“I don’t think he wanted to,” Tara said softly, and was surprised at herself for speaking. Everyone turned to look at her, and she blushed. She wasn’t used to that. She was used to her voice being drowned out, or being waved off. Nothing she could say was that important.

“Of course he bloody wanted to,” Spike said. “What he signed up for, innit? He only felt bad for Oz because he knew him.”

Tara shook her head. “I… when I was captured, he was there, and he… he didn’t want to take me. He tried to tell the other one to leave me alone.”

“But they didn’t,” Buffy insisted.

“Well… no. But maybe they couldn’t. If he’s part of of the government, part of the military, he doesn’t have a l-lot of choice, right? He’s trained to be obedient. They all are. That’s the…” Tara swallowed, feeling her momentary burst of courage petering out. “That’s what soldiers are for. To carry out orders without asking questions, right? But he’s… I think he’s asking.”

“Great,” Buffy said. “But I still don’t think going back to class is a good idea. For you or Oz.”

“And Buffy and I are dropping Psych, I guess,” Willow said, and sighed. “Now I really wish I hadn’t prioritized the assignments for that class.”

Tara had absolutely no desire to go back to the campus, but it broke her heart a little to think of dropping out, too. 

She didn’t want to go home. Her father had barely let her come here to begin with, and if she went back a college dropout, he’d never let her do anything again.

The meeting kind of fizzled out as it was decided there could be no storming of the secret military base until they knew more, but as they all started breaking away and moving on to other things, Spike looked down at Tara. “Somethin’ on your mind, love?”

“I don’t know where I’ll go,” Tara said softly. “If I’m not a student anymore.”

“Well,” Spike said. “Slayer’ll bust up the joint sooner or later, and it’ll be safe to go back. Could just take a semester or two off until then.”

“You could get an apartment,” Anya said. “That’s what I had to do, when I became human.”

“I… don’t know if that’s safer,” Tara said softly.

“What if I got one with you?” Spike asked.

Tara pulled away, frowning up at him, and he frowned as well, and shrugged. “Or not. Just, I need somewhere to lie low too, yeah? Until we can get these sodding chips out.”

“You want to get an apartment with me?” Tara asked.

Anya’s face lit up. “Oh! You’ll need a gift. I’ve heard that’s what humans do.” 

She got up, presumably in search of one, and came back from the basement moments later with a dusty old rotary phone.

“This is Buffy’s,” Tara said blankly.

“Eh, she won’t mind,” Spike grinned. “Love, I do believe we’ve just been given our first housewarming gift. For a place we don’t even have yet.”

Chapter Text

Spike, somehow, was in charge of minding the sodding pumpkin pie.

Because all talk of fighting military blokes who put you in white cells and stuck chips into your skin was shunted to the side in favor of an American holiday that had all the bloody citizens divided on whether it was even an ethical one or not.

And no one had told him there’d be a whole siege, and that’d he’d be on pie duty with about four arrows shot into him because he couldn’t bloody well fight anything.

“Spike!” Buffy cried, swinging her sword at the Indian spirits who just kept coming. “If that pie burns you’ll be eating the entire thing, and nothing but!”

“I’m watching it, Slayer!” He snapped back. And he was… sort of, but also he was watching as Buffy sliced the ghost with his own knife, causing a red strip of blood to cross his arm.

“Your knife can kill you,” Buffy breathed in realization, and Spike only had a second to wonder why he was filled with such a sense of pride for the girl’s cleverness, when suddenly the thing turned into a great sodding…

“A bear!” he shouted. “You made a bear!”

“I didn’t mean to!” she protested.

“Undo it!” he shouted, ducking behind the counter. “Undo it!”

But ducking behind the counter meant he couldn’t see the fight anymore, so he crawled forward a bit, watching as Buffy jammed the knife into the bear’s heart.

And, fortunately, the creature turned back into a man, and then fizzled away in a cloud of mist.

The timer went off, ringing shrilly in the sudden quiet, and Buffy sputtered, “Spike, that’s my pie !”

He made a move as if to rise, but was stopped by her stepping over him, and rushing to the oven. Giles was carefully righting the broken pieces of furniture in his house, and Spike could hear the others talking loudly in the courtyard.

Pie cooling on the rack, Buffy had more time to be sympathetic as she stepped back over him, and helped him to his feet. “Ouch,” she said.”I uh… didn’t realize some of these were so close to your heart.”

He nodded at the gash in her arm. “Took your share of damage too, I reckon.”

“Here.” She sat him down on the couch, and yanked one of the arrows out.

He hissed, throwing his head back. “Sodding hell, woman!”

“Sorry,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

“You’re a bloody sick creature, you know that? Taking pleasure in my torture like this.”

Buffy shrugged. “You almost burned my pie.”

Spike glared at her, and yelped again when she pulled another arrow out.

“Sorry,” Buffy said again, sounding more repentant this time. “I mean, I could just leave them in, but…”

“No, no.” He waved a hand. “Get them out.”

She pulled the third one out, more gently, it seemed. “Did you know Angel was in town?”

Spike lifted an eyebrow at her. Could smell the git all over the Watcher’s apartment, and a few of her friends besides. “You didn’t?”

“Oz told me,” Buffy said. “He could sense him. Everyone else is… trying to keep it a secret apparently.”

“Why the bloody hell?”

Buffy shrugged. “Trying to spare me pain, I guess. Which makes sense, because I’m furious at him, that he’s here, keeping an eye on me and not letting me see him. But…”

Spike watched her face. “But?”

Buffy removed the fourth arrow. “It seems… silly, kind of. Caring what he does, or what he thinks. Like, I’m in college now, I found out there’s a military base doing creepy, horrific things to my friends, and other demons, and it just feels… like whoever I was before, with Angel, I’ve grown up, now. There’s just not really space in my life for him anymore.” She bit her lip. “Not that it doesn’t hurt. And suck. A lot. But they didn’t all need to go keeping it a secret, is my point. I’m not gonna fly to pieces because he is or isn’t here.”

“Atta girl,” Spike said, grinning at her. “Would love to see the look on his face when he’s told you’ve outgrown him, though.”

She smirked, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, well, fortunately that’ll never happen.”

“Spike?” Tara gasped as she came inside. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

“Arrows, Indian siege?” he asked. He took her chin and frowned at the bruise on her cheek. “How ‘bout you, Luthien, you make it through all right?”

“Why do you call her that?” Anya asked.

“He’s teasing me,” Tara said, blushing. “It’s… she’s a character from a story, the um… the most beautiful Elf-girl in Middle-earth.”

“You are beautiful,” Spike said staunchly.

“I’m r-really not.”

“Do you think I’m beautiful?” Anya asked him.

“Think all women are beautiful. Have yet to meet one I’m not a little attracted to.”

Buffy made a face as she stood up, collecting the arrows. “You’re a pig, Spike.”

Spike narrowed his eyes at her. “‘Cept you, Goldilocks.” 

“You mean I’m the one woman in the world you don’t want to hop into bed with?” Buffy asked. “How will I possibly live with the rejection?”

“Is there food now?” Xander asked. “Because I gotta tell you, having syphilis for most of the day sure gives you an appetite.”

Oz wandered in, squeezing Willow’s hand, and coming to sit with Tara and Spike. “So, I hear you found a place,” he told them. “Need help moving in?”

Sometimes Spike felt like his unlife was moving so quickly lately it was hard to keep track of all the different things going on.

But pumpkin pie and bears and Slayers pulling arrows out of his chest and the wolf offering to help him and his little witch buddy move into their very own apartment was still likely the best Thanksgiving Spike had ever had.

Chapter Text

It had been one month since Oz had been scooped up by those military guys, and he only realized that because it was time for him to lock himself in a cage and become a wolf again.

Willow and Buffy stayed up with him, for all three nights. Willow reading to him to keep him calm, and Buffy pacing with a tranquilizer gun. And a sword.

And he was grateful to them. Willow really was the best girlfriend in the world, and Buffy had always inspired a feeling of safety in him, not that he knew if the wolf could feel it or not.

But at the end of the three nights, when the girls were crashed out in their dorm and Oz should have returned the favor by at least picking them up some Chinese or something… he found himself wandering to Tara and Spike’s apartment instead.

He could have moved in with them. They offered, more than once, when they were looking for a place. But since his house with the band was off-campus, he wasn’t worried about being captured again, and the guys were already cool with Willow staying over a lot of the time.

And yet, after his wolfy nights, all Oz wanted was to be with the two people who knew what it was like, without having to discuss it. Being in that… place. With all the torture, the fear, the isolation, the half-dazed confusion due to starvation and drugs.

Tara let him in their apartment with that warm, lopsided grin of hers, and Spike was cursing at something stupid on the TV, and it was all okay.

“How were your… um… your wolf nights?” Tara asked, because she got it.

“Wolfy,” Oz said, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Spike glanced over at him. “Chip had a bloody field day with your howling, eh?” he asked, because he got it.

“Will says it did jack to keep me quiet,” Oz said. “On the third night Buffy tranqued me because she wasn’t sure I’d still have a throat in the morning otherwise.”

“Do you want some tea?” Tara asked. “Ginger tea with honey always helps me when I have a sore throat.”

“Thanks.”

“Spike?” Tara asked.

He scoffed. “Don’t think any sodding tea is gonna help the pain that comes when I hurt—”

Tara just looked at him, calm and steady, and Spike sighed. “Yes, all right? Yes, please.”

She grinned at him, sweet and victorious, and Spike turned to Oz and said, “Didn’t know having a roommate meant I was gonna get bloody well domesticated.”

“Probably helps that it’s a girl,” Oz said. “Moving in with three other guys in a band kind of sends you backwards, evolutionarily speaking.”

Spike nodded. “Can see why you chose to remain where you were, then.”

When Tara came back and handed out tea for everyone, she said, “Hey, Spike and I found a Monopoly board game in a dumpster. A lot of the pieces are missing, but we think that just means it won’t take forever to play.”

Oz shrugged. “Squeezing every last cent of cash from your friends is a time-honored American tradition.”

“That’s what I said,” Spike smirked.

Silence reigned for awhile as they set up, and turns were played, in rote, distracted motions. Until Tara bumped the board, and a corner tore off the rest of the sections.

“Oops!” she said quickly, and waved her hand over it. 

Spike and Oz were at her side before she’d even finished, as she cried out and grabbed her arm.

“Want some tea for that?” Spike teased softly, tugging her hair.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “It shouldn’t… shouldn’t work like this,” she whispered. “Magic is about energies, you don’t strictly need the use of your limbs for it. But it’s like… the chip is cutting off… the energy flow… somehow.”

Spike frowned. “Seems like you’d need magic in order to do that.”

“Yeah,” Tara whispered.

“So maybe those guys aren’t as pure-sciencey as we thought,” Spike continued slowly.

Tara looked at him with wide eyes. “Yeah.”

“Have you asked Willow?” Oz said. “She’s got kind of a knack for understanding all that Wicca trivia.”

Tara smiled shakily, nodding as they returned their places, Spike slapping a piece of packing tape on the board. “A… a little. We were hoping the group on campus could give us some answers, but, um… we’re pretty sure those girls aren’t actual witches.”

Oz frowned, and rolled their one die thoughtfully. “You’re in the same Wicca group,” he said softly. “That’s… I should have known.”

“Well,” Tara said slowly. “I mean, I wasn’t in it for very long, because those guys snatched me up before orientation was even over. And I still don’t like being near the campus, so I’ve only been to a couple of the meetings. So, I’m not really in it.”

Oz shook his head. “I haven’t been spending enough time with her,” he said. “Willow. I should know that stuff.”

“That lot is always up to something,” Spike said. “Can’t know every detail of her life, can you?”

Oz didn’t answer, and Tara watched him quietly. “You think you’re pulling away,” she said gently.

He shrugged. “I’m not… trying to. I just think it’s not safe… for her. To be with someone like me, when I can’t control it, and I don’t understand it, and I could get captured again because of it. Part of me wants to leave, try to know what it means to really be a wolf, but I can’t… I can’t do that to her. Not after being missing for two weeks.”

“You wouldn’t want that anyway,” Spike said. “Trust me, mate, worlds harder to face what you are when you don’t have someone there telling you that it all makes sense, somehow.”

“And hey,” Tara said, reaching out and taking his hand. “We’re all demons here, right? We can stay right here, and figure out what we are together.”

Chapter Text

Tara couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this.

It had started because Anya, quite abruptly, announced she was leaving Sunnydale. She said she’d seen one of the mysterious military guys bag someone who had looked normal, just like Tara and Oz and Spike and Anya herself all did. 

Even though she was an ex-demon, she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d packed her bags, and driven out of town, and that had been that.

Except that Xander was stunned, and shaken up by the whole thing, and had decided that Tara and Spike would be the most willing audience to hear him vent.

Well, probably he had just figured that Tara would listen to him. 

So here he was, sitting on Tara’s brand new couch that Spike had found on a curb somewhere, and holding his head in his hands.

“It’s my fault,” Xander said. “Because I made such a big stink about the vengeance spirit at Thanksgiving. I said we need to slay vengeance demons instead of talk to them, and… she felt attacked.”

“I don’t think so,” Tara said, confused as to what she was meant to be doing here. “It… it s-seems like she liked you very much, and is just trying to take precautions…”

“Course it wasn’t you,” Spike scoffed from his bedroom. “Bird knew all your faults and followed you around like a lost puppy anyway. Probably not much you could have said to make her lose interest in you. She was just more interested in her own hide.”

He wandered in, and plopped down on the couch next to Tara, making her bounce a little bit. “She’s a smarter girl than the rest of us, is all I’m saying. If we had any shred of sense, we’d all be high-tailing it out of this town, too. You wanna get a drink?”

Xander’s eyes were wide. “I’m… only nineteen.”

“So? Tara, you in? Take our minds off those bloody solider-boys tearing this family apart?”

And Tara had agreed, and Xander had agreed, and though Xander had called it a night early because he had a job interview in the morning, Tara was discovering that alcohol was pretty yummy, when it was all fruity and sparkly like Spike kept buying for her.

And she was also discovering that it didn’t take much to get her completely drunk.

“Did’ja know I can fly?” she slurred to Spike.

“That’s just the absinthe, love.”

“No, no really, I can do it. I can…” She closed her eyes and drew a breath, trying to focus.

And a powerful bolt of ice ran through her arm.

She screamed, loudly, more loudly than she was used to, and even though the Bronze was also loud and crowded, several of the nearby patrons turned to look at her.

“Tara, pet,” Spike said, and his face was all fuzzy and swimmy in front of her vision, as he took her arms in both hands. “No magic, remember, sweetness? Got that cute little government chip in your vein.”

She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I… I don’t want it. It makes my tummy all…”

She stumbled, falling into his arms, and he said, “Right… maybe we overdid it a bit tonight.”

Tara shook her head. “No, my arm hurts and my tummy hurts and I can’t do magic. I wan’ more…” She waved her hand towards her shiny pink drink, still unsure what it was even called.

“Don’t think so, love,” Spike said, his voice sounding tight. “Bugger, didn’t think about your non-vampire constitution. Got no bloody idea what to do for a bender like this.”

So, even though she whimpered and protested, he let her out of the hot, sticky Bronze, and into the cool December air.

She made a face as she realized he was leading her in the direction of the college campus. “No. Bad… can’t go there.”

“Taking you to the dorms, love. Think Oz and Willow are at band practice, but the Slayer should be there.”

And she was, again with a cloud of light behind her when she opened her door, making her look strong and beautiful while Tara was feeling very sick and… unkempt.

“You got her drunk?” Buffy asked, with a very unimpressed air.

“Well, we were helpin’ Harris through his funk… but yeah, bird might have gotten a little carried away.”

“Come in,” Buffy sighed, and helped Tara to her desk chair. “Here, I’ll get you some water.”

“Was that all it was?” Spike asked, sounding genuinely bewildered. “She just needed water?”

Tara caught sight of the little TV on Buffy’s desk, and smiled. “I wanna watch the Muppets.”

Somewhere, Spike was snickering at something. Tara couldn’t think what.

“Oh,” Buffy said. “Uh… okay, we’ll… see if we can find it.”

She did, of course. She was the Slayer and saved the world and stuff. She could find anything she wanted, and Tara beamed as the theme song came on, singing along with the words and totally not stumbling over them: “ It’s time to get things started on the most sensational inspirational, celebrational, Muppetational…”

Buffy and Spike were talking in hushed voices behind her, but they weren’t important. What was important was staring at the pretty colors, and laughing at the funny jokes, and smiling at the puppets she’d loved since she was a little kid, watching it with her brother before he got all mean.

She watched until her vision blurred, and she laid her head down in her arms. The next thing she was aware of was being tucked into a bed that smelled a little like sulphur, and Willow’s strawberry shampoo. 

Spike was stroking her hair, and Buffy was murmuring, “You need anything, Tara?”

She reached up to poke both their faces with her finger, grinning at the fuzzy feeling they inspired in her heart.

“You’re good parents,” she mumbled, and immediately fell asleep. 

Chapter Text

Something was very wrong.

Spike had been feeling it for weeks. Or, well, fine, a couple of days, at least. Maybe an hour or so, when he was too bloody bored to think about anything else.

But he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it until last night, when he’d dragged an entirely sloshed Tara to the Slayer’s dorm room, and Buffy had let her watch the sodding Muppets.

And he and Buffy had just… talked. With insults and jibes, sure, but not… not nearly as many as there used to be. And when Tara had started falling asleep, Spike had looked at her and murmured, “She’ll be all right, yeah? Didn’t take too much to make her sick?”

“She’ll be fine, Spike. She might just be a lightweight, like me.”

He’d run his fingers through his hair, and said, “She’s the best bloody friend I’ve ever had. If I… I can’t muck this up, Slayer. This sodding chip they’ve shoved up my skull doesn’t stop all the ways I could hurt her.”

And Buffy had looked at him, eyes soft and searching, and he’d squirmed under her gaze before she said, “Super powers come with extra breaking skills, huh?”

She got it. Course she did. Different as night and day, they were, but understanding the fear, the power, the knowledge that you were going to have to fight to stay on top for the rest of your bloody existence… the raw strength there was in smashing and destroying, even the things you never meant to… that was the same. For both of them.

“Willow’s spending the night with Oz,” Buffy had added. “If you think we should let Tara sleep here.”

And that’s when it had hit him, as he was tucking Tara into Red’s bed, stroking her hair, with Buffy gently asking if she had needed anything else. Stone drunk as she was, Tara had called them “good parents” which… hard to blame the girl for seeking that, with a dead mum and a father who seemed a right terror.

But now Spike was left with the sick feeling in his gut that maybe he and the Slayer weren’t bickering quite as much as they used to. Were getting along, even, most times when they saw each other.

It just wasn’t right.

Spike never had much cause to think about the future. Dimly, in his mind, he’d sort of put off killing the Slayer until he could actually deliver the fatal blow, which would only happen once he got his chip removed. Oz and Tara were too important to him by now to kill, and, well, he supposed Red could live, for the wolf’s sake. As for Harris and the Watcher, they pissed him off, but neither of them were particularly special or powerful, so killing them wouldn’t exactly be very exciting.

But Buffy. He’d always known he would come back to kill Buffy.

Except that now they were bloody well getting along, and taking care of Tara, and when exactly had she become the person he turned to when things got hairy?

He still had incredibly strong feelings when he thought about her, so if it wasn’t seething hatred, what the bloody hell else could it be?

He had to know. He actually hadn’t left the campus, knowing he’d want to check in on Tara in the morning, and had instead tucked himself away in the basement until the late morning, before making his way back up to the dorm.

But Tara wasn’t there. And neither was the Slayer.

“They went out for hangover food,” Willow said, pouting on the floor next to her stripped bed. “But Tara started washing my bedding before she left, even though she wasn’t feeling good. God, why does she have to be so nice ? Why can’t I just hate her for hanging out with Oz?”

“What?” Spike asked, feeling like he’d walked into another mope fest he wanted no part of. Getting drinks with Harris over lost love had been one thing, but he had no idea what the little witch was on about, or why she was holding a bent Q-Tip in her hand.

“I mean,” Willow said, standing up and starting to pace. “I get it, he went through this super traumatic experience. So I’ve been all supportive girlfriend, just being there for him, and making sure he doesn’t need or want anything. But all he wants lately is to come see you guys. And he won’t talk to me about it, and it’s like he has this new exciting club, with you and Tara, and I’m not good enough to be in the club because I wasn’t captured and chipped.”

“And you should be bloody grateful you weren’t,” Spike said. He was sort of clueing in to what her complaint was, but he still wanted no part of it.

“But Buffy ,” Willow seethed. “She doesn’t see anything wrong. It’s not her boyfriend who was imprisoned and tortured, and is pulling away now. It’s not any of her friends… except that Oz was actually her friend before, and really, I guess you and Tara are both her friends now. But you all go to her to fix your problems, and she just loves it. She’s like a kid in a candy store with all these brand new demons to take care of.”

She looked at Spike as she said that last part, and he frowned and squinted as her eyes flashed all crystal blue for a second.

“Uh,” he said. “Red… you haven’t been mucking about with any spells lately, have you?”

Chapter Text

“Oz, man,” Devon said, when Oz picked up the phone. “You uh… you know how weird stuff happens in this town sometimes? And like… your friend Buffy got an award for it at the prom?”

There was also her leading a school-wide campaign against the mayor turning into a big snake at graduation, but all Oz said was, “Sure.”

“Well… something weird just happened. This little girl just kinda… appeared right in front of me. Like, poof .”

“Where are you?”

“At work.”

“Okay,” Oz said. “I’ll swing by the video store then.”

“No, man, I quit that place after Cherry and I broke up. I’m working with Megan at The Lollipop Guilt in the mall now.”

***

The little girl was Buffy.

Even with the smell of pretzels and floor cleaner and fountain water in the air, Oz could still pick up Buffy’s scent even before he got there, and thought for a moment that she’d already heard about the weirdness, and was investigating.

But when he stepped in and saw only Devon and a little blonde girl sitting in a pile of half-unwrapped candy, he realized that Buffy was doing a different kind of investigation right now.

Little Buffy grinned at him, waving with both her hands, a brightly colored lollipop in each. “Hi, Oz!”

So, she knew who he was. That was something.

“Dude, you know her?” Devon asked. “Where did she come from? Seriously, there was no one here and then… I mean, it feels like little kids come out of nowhere sometimes, but I swear, she…”

“I know her,” Oz said. “Thanks for calling.” He pulled out his wallet. “How much for all the candy she touched?”

***

He wasn’t really sure what to do. Tara and Spike had both been out when he tried to check in at their apartment this morning, and he was pretty sure Willow had class.

That kind of just left Giles… since Buffy was otherwise occupied. 

They drove to her Watcher’s apartment, Buffy babbling happily the whole way, and digging through her bag of candy for more lollipops. It was actually pretty cute, seeing her like this… she so rarely got to actually have fun with all the saving the world that she had to do. He probably shouldn’t have let her have so much candy, but how often did she get a break to just be a kid like this?

“And this one time, my Mommy let me drive the car all by myself. Only I didn’t drive good. And then I didn’t like driving anymore.”

“I know,” Oz said. “I was kind of there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Buffy said. “I forgot. Your car is big. It smells funny. Why is your steering wheel on the wrong side?”

He smiled at her. “It makes the van go faster.” 

“Really? Could you drive really fast? Like, super fast, like whoosh ?”

“Only at night,” Oz said. “It’s kind of a vampire car.”

“Oh. I thought it was a her-wolf car. ‘Cause you’re a her-wolf.”

Oz nodded. “You’d think so. That would make more sense.”

“You want a lollipop?” Buffy asked, holding one out to him.

“I’m good, thanks. Hey, Buffy, how old are you?”

Buffy counted on her fingers for a long second, before nodding confidently. “Five-and-a-half.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Do you remember being bigger, before?”

She gave a shrug, sucking a bright blue lollipop. Her lips were already stained a dark purplish color from the mix of colors she’d sampled.

“Do you know what you were doing, before you ended up in the candy store?”

“Tara and me were eating eggs. And coffee. Coffee is yucky, but I drinked it anyway.”

Oz considered as he parked in front of Giles’ place. “Well. Hopefully she remembers that weird stuff tends to happen to us before she starts freaking.”

***

“And then she was just… gone !” Tara was saying, waving her hands and speaking without a trace of a stutter, tears wet on her cheeks. “I thought it was me, like maybe my chip was… causing my magic to fire on its own, but I don’t even know where to begin looking for her, if she’s even still alive and…”

Both she and Giles turned to look as Oz stepped through the door, pushing Little Buffy in front of him. Buffy smiled brightly at them. “Hi, Tara,” she said. “Want a lollipop? They tastes super better than coffee.”

Tara’s eyes were wide.

“Good Lord,” Giles said, in a resigned tone of voice, like he’d been saying it several times in the past few minutes. “Buffy?”

“Buffy?” Tara repeated, and knelt down, putting her arms around the little girl. “Buffy… oh, God, I thought something terrible had happened to you.”

“Well,” Oz said. “She did get an extended warranty on her lifespan.”

“Besides that,” Tara said.

The phone rang, and Giles picked it up. “Hello?”

“Watcher!” came Spike’s indignant voice through the phone. There were a lot of things Oz hated about being a wolf, but enhanced hearing was not one of them. “Bloody hell, why can’t your Slayer have your number stashed in a sodding reasonable location, instead of the bottom of one of her thirty purses?”

“Spike, I’m afraid I don’t have time for… hang on, why are you rifling through my Slayer’s purses?”

“Yes, let’s focus on that,” Spike said in exasperation. “And not on the fact that Red’s done some ‘Will Be Done’ spell that’s gone hooky, and now she’s been snatched up by a sodding vengeance demon.”

“Ah,” Giles said. He carefully put the phone back down onto the receiver, and looked at the scene in front of him again. “Good Lord.”

Chapter Text

“Spike,” Tara said, trying to keep her voice calm and steady, because he and Mr. Giles couldn’t stop hanging up on each other long enough to actually get to the root of the problem. “Tell me what happened when you got there, okay?”

“Is he still there?” Spike asked, acid lacing his tone.

Tara raised her eyebrows at Mr. Giles, and he made a sort of sputtering huff, and turned to head towards the kitchen.

“He’s gone now,” Tara said, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder as she flipped open yet another spell book. 

“Came lookin’ for you in the dorm, and Willow was in a tizzy, complainin’ about her boy spending too much time with you and me. And her eyes got all funny…”

“Funny how?”

“Flashy, like. Lightning in a snowglobe, or something. Said somethin’ about Buffy, then somethin’ about her and Xander, then somethin’ about… well, the point is, I asked her what the bloody hell she was doing, and she said she’d cast a spell to have her will be done. Except she thought it didn’t work.”

“Oh, it’s working,” Tara said, looking over at Little Buffy, who was currently riding piggyback on a Xander with demonic markings on his face and hands. Both of them were laughing and enjoying themselves, and Tara had to wonder just how often this sort of thing happened to them.

“Know that, don’t I?” Spike growled. “One of the things she said was she and Xander might as well be demons to get a little attention around here, and then some bloody portal opened up, and she was carried off.”

“You said it was a vengeance demon.”

“Heard stories. D’hoffryn, heads up the biggest division of them in his home dimension.”

Tara nodded, making careful notes of everything he’d said. “Are you okay?”

His voice was tight as he answered, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. It’s what friends do, Spike, they check up on each other.”

“I’m bloody fantastic. Can’t leave until the sun goes down and I’ve been stuck talking to a fussy old librarian who seems to be looking for ways to blame me for all of this.”

“Well, the sun goes down early in December,” Tara soothed. “And hopefully we’ll have found some answers on how to fix this by the time you get here.”

***

They didn’t. Oz and Xander and Tara and Giles all took turns keeping Little Buffy occupied, other than an hour or so in the middle of the afternoon when she fell asleep in front of the TV. But though Tara got the impression her companions were no strangers to digging through old books for answers to a rather alarming problem going on, they could find nothing on how to get Willow back.

“D’hoffryn was… um… he was Anya’s old boss,” Xander said. “I don’t think he would have taken Willow to kill her… he would have tried to get someone to make a wish if he wanted to hurt her.” He sighed. “Anya would know more about it, of course. If she hadn’t left…”

Giles eyes the red markings dotting Xander’s skin. “Perhaps he wants someone on his staff who knows how to turn humans into demons.”

“I don’t feel very demonic,” Xander admitted, and looked at Tara. “This is probably how it is for you, huh? You know it’s there, that weird kind of something else under your skin, but otherwise you’re pretty much normal."

“I guess so,” Tara said. She never actually had been able to feel her demon, but she could feel the presence of her magic, and the power she carried inside her. It wasn’t very much, but it could easily drown out the feeling of a not-yet-developed monster. 

The door banged open then, and Tara jumped. Sundown had crept up on them much faster than she’d realized.

Except that the vampire who walked through the door was… not quite the Spike she’d had drinks with the night before.

She was pretty sure.

“Spike?” Xander asked, his mouth dropping open. “What… what happened to you?”

“Could ask the same of you, Harris,” Spike snapped. “‘Cept I already know the answer, and so do you.” 

His normally bleached-blonde, slicked-back hair was an unruly mess of mousy-brown curls now, and he was dressed in a cream colored old-fashioned suit, with coattails and everything. A pair of spectacles sat on his nose, and yet… his face, his eyes, which were widening as he looked at Little Buffy, were exactly the same. 

It was definitely still Spike. Somehow. Somewhere underneath all that.

Buffy’s eyes were equally wide as Spike made his way over to her. She scooted closer to Oz.

“Hey,” Spike said, crouching in front of her. “Slayer, that still you in there?”

“Who’s that?” Buffy whispered loudly to Oz.

“It’s just Spike,” Oz told her. “Remember him?”

“Don’t look like Spike,” Buffy said skeptically.

Spike took his glasses off, and squinted at her. “How ‘bout now?”

“No,” Buffy said, but even though she watched him suspiciously, she went over to her bag of candy, and pulled out a lollipop.

She held it out to him, frowning when he just looked at it. “Take it.”

He cautiously plucked the candy from her fingers.

“Eat it,” she commanded, her frown deepening.

His eyes stayed locked on hers as he put his glasses back on, and pulled the wrapper off the candy. He stuck it in his mouth, and Buffy relaxed, nodding in satisfaction.

“Bam-pire,” she said.

He grinned at her around the stick in his mouth. “Can still sense me, can’t you, sweetness?”

She tilted her head at him, and a mischievous little smile appeared on her face. “You gotta catch me,” she said, and before anyone could stop her, she rushed to the front door, and yanked it open.

“Buffy, no!” Tara cried.

“Buffy yes!” the little girl shrieked back, and darted out into the night. 

Chapter Text

Slayer had such tiny legs right now that any of the lot of them could have caught up with her, but even before Spike was done laughing at the cheek of her, Tara and Xander were shoving him out the door, yelling at him to bring her back, and Giles was still rummaging through his books, while Oz…

Oz had been playing quietly with Buffy on the ground when Spike had walked in, but he could see the boy’s pale skin, the tightness around his features, the way he was frowning even though his voice was even and calm.

The whole Willow thing was affecting him, deeply, even if he wouldn’t ever say it. Which left Spike as the prime candidate to go chasing after a Bitty Buffy.

But as he suspected, she hadn’t even gotten to the end of the street by the time he made it outside. He caught up with her easily, swooping her up into his arms, and growling, “Gotcha, you little munchkin. Where do you think you’re running off to?”

She let out a shriek of delight, wiggling to get out of his arms. “You catched me,” she said. “Now you run and I’m trying to catch you.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”

“Yep. Now put me down.”

He did, and took off running. He didn’t go far, allowing her to catch up with him quickly. And when she slapped his arm and said “Tag!” he realized that the game had started over, and he was meant to be running after her, now.

He steered the game away from any crowded areas of town, taking her back in the direction of her own neighborhood, to the park a couple of blocks down from her house. She raced up to the swings when they got there, scrambling into one and demanding, “Push me, Spike!”

“Why the bloody hell should you get all the fun?” he asked, and lifted her up, plopping her on his shoulders as he took her seat. “You gotta hang on tight now, you got that?”

“Yup,” she said, digging her chin into his head, and wrapping her little arms and legs around his top half so tightly that she could have strangled any human in this position.

She shrieked again as he started swinging with her, and he found himself laughing in answer. Made sense now, why his feelings for Buffy were so bloody confusing. Whenever she wasn’t trying to actively kill him she was… fun , lots of fun, she was wild and energetic and kind and attentive, and it was very difficult to keep on hating a woman like that, even if she was literally born to kill your kind.

“How come you look funny?” Buffy asked, resting her cheek on his head, when he finally started slowing down.

He snorted. “Oi, I’m not more funny looking than you right now.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

He realized just in time that he could very well get stuck in that argument forever, so instead he replied, “Your little friend Willow. She said… that… you and I are only friends because of the chip in my head, and sooner or later you lot will all see who I was before.” He snorted, letting his heels drag on the ground as they slowed to a stop. “Guess that meant who I was as a human. Still a vampire, though. Just look like this now.”

Her little hand patted the top of his head. “I like you a bam-pire,” she said. “I never had a pet. You can be my pet, Spike. Like a big mean dog, barking away all the scary stuff.”

He choked, and stood up, letting her slide off his shoulders as he did. He sat her on the swing, and took a few steps away, letting the odd feeling inside him dissipate, and the confusing feelings swirling in his heart come to a halt, before he slowly walked back over to her.

There was too much… too much going inside his head, but the tiny Slayer was just sitting on the swing, hands gripping the chains, watching him calmly and confidently, and there was nothing left to do but fall to his knees in front of her.

“You’re bloody wonderful,” he said, and shook his head. “God, what’s wrong with me? How do you have so much power in you, even when you’re bite-sized?”

She smiled enigmatically. “Magic.”

He sputtered out a laugh, and stood, holding his hand out for her. “Yeah. Reckon so.”

She took his hand trustingly, skipping happily next to him, until her steps started to slow, and she leaned heavily against his side. 

“Spike,” she mumbled. “I…”

“I got you, little lamb,” he murmured, picking her up, letting her head rest against his shoulder. 

“I wanna go home,” she said.

They were closer to her house than the Watcher’s or the campus anyway, so he said, “Right, then.”

She fell asleep halfway there, small cheeks all flushed, tiny chest rising and falling with more life than Spike had.

Her mum was already in bed, but Spike snuck in through the Slayer’s window, tucking her under all her soft blankets in her own bed. 

And as he smoothed his hand over her head, brushing little wisps of blonde hair out of her face, he murmured, “Could never kill you, could I? No matter what shape you are.”

As he slipped out the window, there was a flash, and he was wearing his regular clothes again. He touched his hair, relieved to find it stiffly gelled back, and turned to look at the girl in the bed again. 

He could still see the innocence of Little Buffy in this woman-sized Slayer, her cheeks still flushed, her face still smooth and peaceful, breathing so softly and… sweetly.

When Spike turned away again, there was a shard in his chest, feeling bereft of the sight of her.

Oh.  

Oh, God.

Chapter Text

It was a little odd, how similar this Christmas was to last Christmas. Minus the magic snow.

The year before, Oz had gone over to Willow’s because her parents were out of town, intending to have a night of videos and cuddling and just… reconnecting, after they’d been apart due to the Great Willow and Xander Affair, circa 1998. And then Willow had been looking for something a little more… special, and Oz had wanted to wait.

This year, her parents were still out of town. The plan was still for them to just spend the evening by themselves, in bed, with a TV on. 

They’d long since crossed the “special” line in their relationship. But even though they were naked in bed this year, and were watching some movie that he wasn’t paying attention to, Willow was the one to whisper, “Oz. Will you just… tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

“Wrong?”

Willow sighed, and sat up. The blanket was sliding off her freckled shoulder, and Oz’s fingers instinctively reached out to touch her, before pulling the blanket back up. “You should be furious with me,” she said. “With the whole ‘Will Be Done’ thing… I know I messed up, and I baked lots of apology cookies for everyone after I ended the spell… even Christmas apology cookies, and that’s not even my holiday.”

“So you’ve served your penance,” he said, smiling at her.

“But I haven’t,” she whimpered. “Giles yelled at me, and Spike yelled at me, and the only person I want yelling at me is you .”

“Well,” he said, brushing her hair out of her face. “That could be an issue, because my chip won’t let me raise my…”

“See, this ,” Willow said, burying her face in her hands. “This is why I wanted to do that stupid spell. I was just… I wanted so badly for you to just talk to me, and tell me what’s going on with you, instead of being jokey-deflection guy. I was so scared when you were gone, Oz… and I’m not asking for you to relive every terrible thing that happened, but… I can’t help but feel like… instead of looking to me for comfort, you just want to hang out with your new bestest demon pals instead.”

Oz watched her face, waiting, knowing she wasn’t done.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Willow moaned. “And I’m… just assuming that what happened to you was traumatizing, but really, maybe it was amazing, and you and Spike and Tara just sing songs all day about the great time you had. I have no idea. Because you won’t tell me. Are we okay, Oz? Are you pulling away, and you’re just… not wanting me to worry, but really you’re gonna up and leave me one day? Is there someone else? Is there…”

He tugged her down on top of him, kissing her long and slow, silencing her rambles. It was effective, and he knew it would be, and she was calmer when she pulled away, but her eyes were welling up with tears.

“We’re okay,” he murmured. “I’m sorry if… that I made you feel like we weren’t.”

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t shut me out, Oz… I… I love you so much, I can’t… I don’t know what to do, if you’re not here with me anymore.”

“I am here,” he said, taking her hands. “I’m right here, spending my December 25th making love with you, and watching…” he glanced at the TV. “ Purple Rain?”

“It’s about a guy in a band,” Willow said in a small voice. “I thought… I don’t know, I’ve never seen it.”

He chuckled, pulling her back to him until she was curled up on his chest. She brushed her fingers over his heart, and he ran his through her hair. 

“I told you about Veruca,” he said slowly.

“That you were naked and wolfy together for three days. I did put those pieces together.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t want her, Willow. She tried to come on to me, and I…”

“It’s okay,” Willow said quietly. “Even if you had… I wouldn’t have held it against you. Not with being all captured and abused like you were.”

“And I killed her.”

“I know.” She gave a little smile. “Saves me the trouble.”

Oz winced, and Willow’s face fell. “Sorry.”

“I don’t remember most of what happened in there,” Oz said. “And I don’t… really want to think about it. Ever. But what I came away with was the unignorable knowledge that I’m a werewolf, and it… stays with me, all the days where I’m… human. Normal.”

Willow was quiet, pressing soft kisses to his skin, listening intently.

“And I guess,” he said slowly. “That being with Spike and Tara… it isn’t just that they went through hell with me in that place. It’s that both of them are living in a kind of half-world, too… human in so many ways, but can’t ever forget that the demon is there.” He swallowed. “It’s like… a pack thing, being with them.” He paused. “I kind of wish I could call it anything else. But that’s what it is.”

“And I’m not in your pack,” Willow said softly. “I’m… my pack is Buffy, and Xander, and Giles.”

Oz didn’t answer.

“Maybe you should just bite me next time, and I can be a werewolf, too.”

“No.” He hugged her close. “You’re better than that. You’re too good to be reduced to an animal.”

She was quiet for a while, then said, “But you still… want to be with me? Even though I’m not in your pack? Even though I was wrong to do that spell?”

“Willow,” he said softly. “My whole life… I’ve never genuinely loved anything, anyone, at all. Besides you.”

She sniffled a little as she leaned up to press her lips to his, deepening the kiss as his arms tightened around her, and Purple Rain played idly and forgotten in the background.

Chapter Text

Buffy had given Spike and Tara a record player for Christmas, and Spike was being super weird about it.

“She’s bloody well laughing at us,” he snarled at first, when Tara was trying to decide where to put it in their apartment. “Knows that we’ve got her rotary phone that Anya swiped, and now she’s trying to deck out our entire place with stuff from a decade ago.”

Tara smiled, positioning it just so on the little table next to the TV. “I think she was just being nice, Spike.”

“Or, you know what it is? It’s her own little personal joke against me. Hundred-and-twenty-something vampire, she thinks I would only want things that are old.”

“It was given to me too, Spike.”

“Well, we won’t give her the satisfaction,” Spike sniffed. “It can bloody well sit there and rot, we won’t ever turn it on.”

“Really?” Tara asked, grinning at him. “So that fancy record collection you have is just gonna collect dust?”

***

It did collect dust, for a week or so. Spike absolutely refused to go near the record player, and made a point of saying something snarky about it every time it was brought up, or every time he went near it.

And Tara was amused, but also couldn’t think why he was being so weird about this particular item. Was it because it had come from Buffy? They’d all gone over to her house for dinner on Christmas, because her mom invited them, and he’d been happy enough to participate then.

Maybe he had some dark secret connected with a record player. But then, why did he have so many albums, if he didn’t ever want to play them?

And then the whole town lost their voices.

And suddenly Spike couldn’t get enough of the thing.

He’d been awake when it happened, apparently, and had panicked so much at not being able to hear himself speak that he’d turned the player on, needing to hear sound and voices again. And that was how Tara found him in the morning, when she herself was panicking over having no voice.

He was sitting in front of the player, surrounded by his albums, smiling softly and reverently at the thing that was singing something obscene and angry.

Was like she knew , he wrote to Tara on a pad of paper. That we’d need to hear a voice in the silence.

Tara looked pointedly at the TV directly next to the record player, but Spike didn’t notice.

They did turn on the TV at some point to hear the news report that all of Sunnydale was affected. Tara didn’t really want to leave the house by herself, and she couldn’t exactly call any of their friends to see what was going on. So she sat with Spike, who insisted that they turn the TV off and go back to listening to his records.

She made him switch the music to something more palatable, and he did so agreeably, still smiling that odd smile, and touching the player gently.

He caught Tara looking at him with raised eyebrows and a questioning smile, and he scoffed and rolled his eyes. What? he mouthed at her. 

She said nothing, just leaned her cheek on his shoulder, and watched him tapping his fingers along to the music.

Sometime in the afternoon there was a frantic knocking on the front door, and Buffy came bursting into the room. 

Spike jumped up like he’d been bitten by a scorpion or something, and hastily flicked the record player off. Tara watched his brow furrow and his mouth moving rapidly, waving his hands and pointing at the door, like he was accusing Buffy of bursting in unannounced.

Buffy crossed her arms and glared at him, gesturing to the air around them, and then pointing at her throat. This is an emergency? she mouthed. Then looked at Tara. Hi, Tara.

Tara waved.

And then… Tara couldn’t quite describe what she was watching, other than a silent movie where the actors could hear themselves perfectly, because they were the ones acting it out, after all. 

Spike was arguing with Buffy, and Tara couldn’t make out anything he was telling her. Even though Buffy seemed to. They had a completely silent argument in front of her, and it was fascinating to watch. 

Spike continued talking quickly and waving his hands, and Buffy threw up her own hands and responded, making lots of hand gestures to indicate research and slaying. Tara was somehow able to pick up that Buffy had been checking on all of her friends to make sure they were okay, and they were gathered at Mr. Giles’ if Tara and Spike wanted to come.

Of course Spike had to wait for the sun to go down, and Tara didn’t want to leave him alone, even if he had the record player to keep him company. But after Buffy had gone, Spike watched the door for a long time, and then settled back down in front of the player, turning the music on again, smiling and tapping his fingers like nothing had happened.

***

“You like her,” Tara said, the minute they got their voices back.

“Like who?” Spike asked, lining his records up neatly, in alphabetical order, in a box he’d placed under the little table.

“Buffy.”

“Buffy ?” Spike choked, somehow managing to laugh and scoff at the same time. “That bouncy little Slayer, with her shampoo commercial hair and holier-than-thou attitude? The very woman I’m supposed to hate… and kill… and, and hate ?”

“That’s the one,” Tara said.

“I do not like the sodding Slayer .”

Tara knelt down and hugged him from behind, resting her head between his shoulder blades. “Poor boy,” she murmured. “You really have it bad, don’t you?”

Spike pressed his hand against hers over his chest. “Think I’m a complete nutter?” he asked timidly.

“Of course not, Spike. She gave you a record player for Christmas, didn’t she?”

Chapter Text

It was the end of the world, but Spike would be lying if he said his heart wasn’t threatening to spill over in his chest with awe and gratitude.

Because Buffy asked him to go with her to stop the apocalypse.

Three ordinary demons tossing trinkets into a crack in the ground wasn’t the most exciting way one could end the world, but this Slayer knew how to make anything exciting. A hissing smoke leaked out of the open Hellmouth, while Buffy danced around on the rumbling earth, fighting off demons and keeping them away from the crack like a trained ballerina.

His job was to catch the totems thrown his way, and destroy or get rid of them so they couldn’t be thrown into the hole.

And then one of the demons gave him a blow to the jaw, and he snarled and fought back on instinct.

And there was no pain.

And that changed… well, it changed sodding everything. 

Buffy stared at him in shock as he whooped, and charged into the fray, tearing one of the demons apart with his bare hands. She’d already killed one of the demons, and the third one was beaten down, but still crawling his way to the open Hellmouth.

Spike grabbed its leg and tossed it back to her, and she plunged her sword into its chest.

The demon let out a dying cry, and went still… and the earth stopped shaking.

Buffy was breathing hard, eyes wide, but glaring sharply, as she looked around at the demons. She dug the point of her sword into the ground, twisting it idly as she looked up at Spike.

“So,” she said. 

“So,” he repeated, leering at her.

“You can fight demons.”

He nodded, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth. He felt on fire, like all of him had woken up, and he was himself in a way he hadn’t been since being dragged off to that prison. He was buzzing with electricity, adrenaline, the rush of violence and the itch to do more, to tear into something, to burn off all the energy suddenly racing through his veins with nowhere to put it.

And Buffy was feeling some of that too, he knew she was. Her own fight had been simple, tame, even, compared to the devastation that would have been wrought if they hadn’t made it here in time. 

“I’ve never watched you fight before,” she said. “Not really. Not like that.”

“Was thinkin’ the same about you,” Spike admitted, bouncing on his toes, feeling like he’d explode if they didn’t do something right the hell now. “Seen a little of it, but nothing like… well, like you’re a golden angel, straight from heaven, here to defend us all.”

She smirked, stepping forward. “I’m not an angel, Spike.”

“Well no, obviously, lacking the wings for one—”

“An angel wouldn’t do this,” she said, and grabbed his coat, yanking him towards her, planting her lips on his.

And the world came to a sodding end.

***

Spike knew that Buffy had blown up her old high school on her way out of it. Oz had mentioned it casually to him, and he’d dug the juicer details out of Willow and Xander afterwards.

He just hadn’t realized she’d hated her school so much that she would want to blow it up again… with her body and his… while they were still inside it.

The ground rumbled once more, as they tore into each other, and their clothes being ripped off could have been shredding the fabric of reality. He blacked out, stars crashing into his vision, feeling all his blood boil to rival the heat of the sun, and she was still there… his strong, glorious, warrior woman.

The world swam into focus for him however many hours later, with his body still trembling, lying on top of his coat in the rubble, her sweaty, naked form draped over his.

“That’s better,” Buffy whispered, sighing into his chest.

He couldn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he had a voice left. She’d bound him, body and mind and spirit, and he could do nothing except by her leave, for the rest of his existence.

“Ooh,” Buffy said, frowning a little, propping herself up and running her finger along his neck. “Those are… those are gonna be hard to explain away.”

He gave a weak chuckle, running his own finger along the tender spots, where he could feel a row of love bites. He’d thought she was tearing out his flesh with her teeth, when she’d given them to him, and he willingly offered it to her.

“Don’t want to explain them away,” he hummed. “Wear them with pride I will… get them all tattooed over. I’ll mark every place on my body that your mouth touched, love.”

She leaned her head back on his chest. “Thought you hated me,” she mumbled.

“Well, I… I don’t.”

“Mm.”

“And… you?” He ran soft, timid fingers over her back. “Hate me, still? Was that all this was?”

“Not hate,” she said softly. “It was… I… you know when I was, um, Little Buffy, and I wanted you to be my pet?”

He chuckled again. “Hardly think this was what you had in mind, then. Least I hope not.”

“No, but… I wanted the little girl version. Of this. Someone to play with me… someone who could keep up with me, and have fun with me, and… be here for me, afterwards, when I’m tired and need to rest.”

He pressed a kiss to her hairline. “Then rest, love.”

She yawned as if having been given permission to do so, curling up as she snuggled into him. “I think there’s more damage in here than there was before,” she murmured.

He fingered the hickeys on his neck again, smiling wearily at the hollowed out shell of Sunnydale High. “Yeah. Definitely left our mark here, in the rubble.”

Chapter Text

So, Spike and Buffy had a thing now.

That was unexpected.

And kinda disorienting, to meet up at the Espresso Pump with Willow and Xander and Buffy and be hit so strongly with Spike’s scent that Oz had to glance around in the broad daylight looking for him.

Before realizing that Buffy was carrying it all over her.

Of course, Willow and Xander didn’t notice anything strange or different. And the two of them fell into easy chatter with her like old times, smiling and sharing their lives and griping about the difficulties of college classes and lousy job interviews like they were all just normal kids.

It has been Willow’s idea to do this, as an attempt to help Oz feel more accustomed to the core Scooby group again. Tonight he would be taking Willow to Spike and Tara’s place for the same purpose, for her benefit. 

They wanted to fit into each other’s worlds, and it seemed to Oz like he was getting the easier deal because he’d been close friends with Xander and Buffy before, but she was right that he’d felt disconnected. And this was good. Just being normal with them. Like in high school, where almost nothing had ever been normal but they tried their best anyway.

“So, I might be dating Spike now,” Buffy said, during a lull in the conversation. She took a long, casual sip of her coffee afterwards, but Oz could see her white knuckles clutching the cup.

Everyone remembered how much they’d all argued about the Angel thing.

But Spike was different. And after a long bout of silence, Xander just blew out a sigh, and shook his head. “For God’s sake, Buffy, how come the nice guys just don’t do it for you?”

“Sorry,” Buffy said, giving a hesitant smile, and an awkward shrug. “I did try the nice guy thing. More than once.”

“I think he’s nice,” Willow said. “Or, um… he can be. He’s all big brother around Tara, like he’ll take a bat to the head of anyone who wants to hurt her. Or, bite them, I guess.”

Xander’s eyes got wide, and he gasped, pointing an accusing finger at Buffy. “Bites… you— oh God, that’s what was all over his neck the other night? He kept saying he was bitten and he was laughing so much… I thought he was just laughing at his dumb vampire joke, but…”

Buffy flushed, and looked down in her cup. “Yeah, it… yeah. I mean it’s still pretty new… obviously, and I didn’t know anything was gonna happen. And maybe it’ll just fizzle out.”

“It might not,” Willow said. She took Oz’s hand and smiled at him. “Demons can be really loyal.”

“Like a dog,” Xander said. “No offense, Oz.”

Oz shrugged. “I’m cool with that.”

“Anyway,” Buffy sighed. “I just wanted to get that out there, before anyone thinks—”

“Buffy?” came a voice, and it actually took Oz a second to place both the sound and the scent, but a fissure of ice ran up his spine anyway, and he felt the inexplicable urge to growl. 

His chip twinged as if recognizing the desire, and his hand squeezed Willow’s tighter.

“And, Willow,” Riley said in surprise, as he walked up to their table. “And… Oz.”

Everyone stared at him.

“And Xander,” Xander put in.

“Right,” Riley said. “Um, sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. Riley Finn.”

He held out his hand, but Buffy stood up, blocking the way of Xander taking it, even though he hadn’t looked like he was going to.

“You know your cover’s totally blown, right?” Buffy asked, danger and acid dripping off every word, and Oz felt marginally soothed by it. 

“I figured,” Riley said, running his hand through his hair, and looking at the ground. “For what it’s worth though, Oz… I’m really glad you got out.”

“Really,” Buffy said. “If you’re so happy about it, why’d you lock him up in the first place?”

“I didn’t,” Riley said. “I didn’t even know…” He looked at Oz. “You didn’t tell them?”

His friends looked at him, but though Oz stared at him head-on, he didn’t say a word.

“Tell us what?” Buffy asked.

“I didn’t know he was there at first,” Riley said. “I brought him clothes when no one else did, and I gave him an item he asked for that he was able to use to break out… sort of.”

“Well,” Buffy said. “They should just give you a medal right now, shouldn’t they?”

“I couldn’t break protocol,” Riley said. “I couldn’t actually help him get out… but I didn’t make it harder for him.” He looked at Oz again. “You saw me. I let you go. I know you kind of bonded with those other two, so I didn’t even take them back. And I’ve tried convincing the professor that it’s not worth her time trying to find you.”

“You think that’s good enough?” Willow snapped.

“It’s not,” Riley said. “Walsh is still looking for him. She, and the guy who captured him, Jesse Franklin… they’re obsessed with the three who escaped. They’re calling it Project Rushmore, and I don’t… have any other details, but, basically none of you guys are safe.”

“Rushmore?” Xander asked. “Like… Mount Rushmore? That monument with four faces?”

“Maybe referring to the demons who escaped,” Willow said, and looked worriedly at Oz. “But then… who’s the fourth?”

“I don’t know,” Riley said. “It could mean something else entirely, anyway, it…”

“Riley,” Buffy said firmly. “I’m giving you one chance here, because my team will be breaking up your little secret organization sooner or later. Will you help us out and tell me what you know, or not?”

Riley looked over his shoulder nervously, then leaned in close. “Not here,” he said softly. 

Buffy nodded. “Then you and I will just have to take a little stroll somewhere else.”

Chapter Text

“And she just… went off with that lumbering idiot?” Spike asked, staring at Oz and Willow in disbelief.

“That’s what you took from that story?” Willow said. “ Yes , Buffy and Riley took off, and she hasn’t checked in yet, so I guess they’re still talking.”

“Or other things,” Spike moaned. He let himself fall backwards over the arm of the couch, grabbing a pillow to press into his face, his legs dangling. “She left me,” he said, his voice muffled. “For some bloody Angel lookalike.”

“Spike,” Tara said, standing over him and crossing her arms. “You’re being a baby right now, you know that? Sit up, we have guests.”

He moved the pillow to look up at her mournfully. “‘S just the wolf.”

“And Willow,” Tara said patiently. “She doesn’t come here that much. So she’s a guest.”

Spike scoffed. “She and I go way back. In’t that right, Red?”

“Well,” Willow said. “There was that time you threatened to shove a bottle in my face.”

“Oi, don’t believe you can be pointin’ fingers, Little Miss Will Be Done.”

“ Spike ,” Tara sighed. “Buffy did not leave you to go sleep with one of the soldiers keeping you and me and Oz locked up, okay? So stop being a pain.”

He sat up, and Tara looked apologetically at Willow and Oz, both sitting in the one armchair because Spike was using the couch. Willow didn’t look particularly bothered to be sitting on Oz’s lap, and he was wearing that vaguely dreamy look he always had around her, but Tara still felt the need to say, “Sorry about him.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure apologizing for Spike is sort of redundant,” Willow smiled. “Anyway, if he and Buffy are actually together now, I kinda think she’ll be doing a lot of apologizing for him.”

“That,” Spike said, waving a finger at her. “Was not very nice for a guest to say.”

“I thought I wasn’t a guest,” Willow grinned.

“Don’t bloody know if we’re together, anyhow,” Spike grumbled, picking at the pillow in his lap. “Just had the one night. Haven’t really… talked, or seen each other since.”

Tara plopped down onto the couch next to him, pulling his head down into her lap so he could mope there. She smiled at the couple on the chair, and said, “So… how are you two doing? With the… Riley of it all?”

Oz shrugged. “My chip fired when he got close,” he said. “That wasn’t fun.”

“I never thought I could hate anyone so much as I do him,” Willow said softly.

Tara chewed her bottom lip for a while, and looked down at the moody vampire in her lap, and the suddenly tense couple in the chair. “Okay,” she said slowly. “So today wasn’t a good day. There’s a… a recipe I have, for a drink that’s… it kind of… makes hard things softer. And makes… makes it easier to face things about yourself that you don’t want to think about.”

Spike frowned up at her. “So, alcohol.”

“It’s not,” Tara said, face flushing. “It’ll relax you, sure, but it just has some magic. The alchemy kind, so it… doesn’t take any actual power.” She swallowed. “I call it my strawberry lemonade. I just think we… could use something to take the stress out of the room. If you guys are interested?”

“I’m up for it,” Oz said.

“If it’s magic, I’m curious,” Willow smiled.

Spike snorted. “Not like I’m gonna say no to somethin’ like that. Just want to be clear on what it is.”

So Tara pulled out the crumpled piece of paper she’d found in the magic shop of her hometown. It was quick and easy to make, and the familiar salmon pink color made her smile as she brought it out, and passed it out to the other three.

They all sipped it in silence, frowning thoughtfully at their cups. Spike was idly kicking the side of the couch with his booted heel, and he was the first to say, “Definitely can taste the strawberry. And the lemon.”

“It’s good,” Willow said. “Like, really… it’s sweet, but kind of sad?”

“Yeah,” Tara said. “That’s what… I mean, that’s the part that’s meant to help you see things about yourself. In an empathy way. Like, um… right now I… I’m thinking I might have to face Riley again. And go back to that… place, if Buffy comes up with a plan to storm the castle. But it’s kind of okay. Because I know I’ll never stop being afraid if I don’t watch her burn it down.”

There was silence again, and Tara said quickly, “You don’t all have to share what it’s making you feel. I just… wanted to give context.”

“It’s making the wolf look… not so foreign to me,” Oz said hesitantly. “Like we could be buddies, if I took the time to get to know him.”

“It’s making magic look a lot scarier than I thought it was,” Willow said softly. “I was gonna ask you for this recipe, but… I don’t know, I think… I might want to use it in dangerous ways. Because it would be easy to. But I’d rather… stay Willow.”

“I… I could help you,” Tara said. “Learn to control the feeling of power, I mean… I always wanted a mentor, and I don’t know if Sunnydale has one, but we could try. Even if I can’t do a whole lot with my chip, right now.”

Willow smiled, and nodded slowly. “That would be really cool.”

Tara looked at Spike, then. He was staring at his drink impassively, tears shining in his eyes.

“Spike?” Tara said gently.

“I love her,” Spike said slowly. “Bloody hell… didn’t think that’s what it… didn’t know it could feel like…” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them to look at her again, there was a perfectly serene smile on his face. “Powerful stuff you got there, Luthien,” he murmured.

Chapter Text

It was a glowing ember inside him, this feeling.

And Spike already knew he’d do anything to keep it with him… anything to stop it from being taken away. He was a vampire, he knew about things being taken away. Body heat, and heartbeats… souls, and actually nourishing food that didn’t come from a vein.

He kept sipping Tara’s strawberry lemonade every time he fancied the feeling was starting to fade, and as a result, much of the rest of the evening was blurred for him.

“Hey, sleepy boy,” Tara murmured at some point, and he turned his face into the palm touching his cheek. “How much of that did you drink, Spike?”

“I don’t want to stop,” he mumbled, his voice sounding… like someone else’s. Hers did too, a bit. All smooth and detached, like there was nothing to fear. “Feeling like this… don’t wanna stop loving her.”

Tara laughed, so soft and musical. “It doesn’t work like that, Spike. It doesn’t give you feelings you don’t already have.”

“Oh.” He nestled deeper into the couch. “Think I wanna sleep now, then.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Tara said, her voice sounding amused. “I didn’t think you could actually intoxicate yourself on that stuff, silly vampire.”

***

The feeling hadn’t gone away, when he’d woken up. But he also felt like he was wearing shackles, all the time. Preventing him from running to Buffy, and reliving their night in the blown-up school. Preventing him from just being in her near vicinity at all times, looking at her, smiling at her, feeling her, worshipping her.

She gathered everyone at her Watcher’s flat to give them the intel the military wanker had told her, and he’d never felt so fidgety, as he sat down with the rest and watched her pace. Made it bloody difficult to concentrate on any of her words, either, but he did his best. 

Was called “The Initiative,” that military bunker where Spike and Tara and Oz had been. It was government funded, but technically privately operated, as Maggie Walsh, the bitch in charge, had been given an allowance and free reign to conduct her research and experiments.

Riley himself had been selected out of special-ops training to be part of the Initiative, but he wasn’t given a lot of info, and he was trained not to ask questions. So he hadn’t… right up until he’d seen perfectly normal, human Oz being mistreated so violently for no crimes that Riley could see.

“So, we’re still in a holding pattern,” Buffy had finished with. “He gave me his personal number…”

“He bloody what ?” Spike burst out.

Buffy raised her eyebrows, and everyone else stared at him. 

“So he can tell me when he finds out anything useful that we can form a plan off of,” Buffy said slowly, staring directly at him. “He’s undercover, now. He can’t just be calling for social chats.”

And that was pretty much the end of the meeting. Spike felt fidgety again, but tried not to blow up at anyone else as the group started to disband, even though everything in him was screaming that he do something , not let her get away when he’d only just found her and was ready to lay down his—

“Hey,” Buffy said, touching his elbow.

He whirled around, and said, “Didn’t mean to be jealous.”

She smiled at him, and said, “You wanna go to the Bronze tonight? Just me and you?”

It was honestly a damn good thing he was an evil, soulless vampire right then, or he might have fallen into her arms and wept.

***

The night only got better from there. She danced with him, all loose and carefree, smiling at him with teeth that were like stars, eclipsing any other lights around her.

She let him buy her non-alcoholic drinks, and they took turns picking interesting sounding things off the menu to try.

“What the hell is an onion blossom?” Spike asked, when it was put in front of him. Looked like a deep-fried sea anemone.

“It’s like onion rings,” Buffy said, tearing off a petal, and dipping it into the sauce to feed him. “But better.”

It was better. Was the best human food he’d ever tasted, and he demolished almost the entire thing by himself.

“Your turn,” Buffy said, eyes sparkling at him from behind her drink, and he was so bloody in love with her. 

He came back with a plate of ghost pepper wings, and grinned at her. “Let’s see how much that Slayer constitution will do for you, eh?”

“Is that a challenge?” Buffy asked. “I bet I can eat more of those than you without crying.”

God, she was wonderful. She dove right in, and he did the same, and her tears flooded right away while he kept his back until right at the end, but they gamely polished off the plate anyway.

“Does your ass feel kicked?” Buffy panted, cramming an entire bread roll in her mouth. She swallowed, and guzzled the rest of her drink. “Because I… I totally beat you…”

And he couldn’t wait anymore. Her cheeks were a beautiful shade of pink, and his tongue felt like he’d licked the inside of hell, and her streaming eyes made her look so flushed and bright… and he just needed her so much . He yanked her out of her chair, and pushed her against a post just under the stairs.

But her mouth was already on his before he could even dip his head… her fiery, fiery mouth, her strong, wicked hands grabbing him and holding on tight, and if he did start to weep a little extra then, it was only because of those damned ghost pepper wings.

I love you, I love you, I love you, he chanted in his head.

But he couldn’t say it out loud… quite.

And anyway, his mouth was busy.

Chapter Text

“A surprise party,” Spike said, and squinted at the group. “Doesn’t the girl have enough surprises jumping out at her?”

“That’s what I tried to tell them,” Giles sighed. “I’m afraid Americans insist that it is in fact enjoyable for everyone to lie in wait and jump out to scream at you unawares.”

Willow’s face fell, as she looked at the party-planning notebook in her lap. “But… we had one for her a couple years ago, and you were all with the party hats and noisemakers then! Well… except for the party hats, ‘cause no one wanted to wear one besides me.”

“Yes,” Giles said drily. “And as I recall, Buffy ruined her own surprise by crashing into the Bronze with a vampire.”

“And then there was that whole Judge-arm-in-a-box thing,” Xander said. “And Angel lost his—”

“Okay, yeah, I remember,” Willow mumbled. “That wasn’t… the most stellar of Buffy birthdays.” 

Oz remembered, too, except he kind of regarded that night as one of the best of his life. If only because it was the first time he’d asked Willow out, and she’d invited him as her plus one to Buffy’s surprise party.

Willow looked at Spike. “That was kind of your fault, though. And if you’re sort of dating now, don’t you think you owe it to her to give her the surprise party she deserves?”

“Fine, fine,” Spike sighed, waving a careless hand. “Just sayin’, if her reflexes kick in and any of you end up dead, I’m planning to laugh.”

“Even if it’s you?” Xander asked.

Spike smirked at him. “My reflexes can match a Slayer’s. I doubt the same can be said for the rest of you.”

“Well… maybe we don’t need to do the jumping out part?” Tara offered. “We can ask her mom to invite her over for dinner, and then we can all just… kind of be there when she walks in?”

Willow nodded, and made a note. “Maybe. I guess it’s probably better not to startle a Slayer.”

“If we’re all there setting up, though, she’ll need someone to keep her occupied so she doesn’t try to find any of us,” Xander said. He looked at Spike, and heaved a long-suffering sigh. “And as much as I can’t believe I’m saying this, that’s probably your department, huh?”

Spike leered at him, pressing his tongue to the back of his teeth. “Depends on if you actually want her showing up to the party at a respectable hour or not.”

“Good Lord,” Giles sighed. 

“I can hang with her,” Oz suggested. 

“She won’t… be suspicious of that?” Tara said. “I mean, it… kind of seems like you two don’t end up alone together… so much.”

“We can come up with some kind of emergency,” Xander said. “Like, uh… all the artifacts in the museum started coming to life?”

“O-or there was a mermaid sighting at the beach,” Tara said.

“Or you can tell her a giraffe is loose,” Willow said.

There was a silence, and she pouted. “What? Like your ideas made so much sense?”

“I’m thinking I just keep it basic,” Oz said. “I’ll tell her I saw a demon somewhere.”

“Great!” Willow said, smiling brightly, and making a note on her paper. “Operation Surprise Buffy is a go, then.”

***

They say you learn something new about yourself every day.

And what Oz learned about himself on Buffy’s 19th birthday was that he… pretty much sucked at cover stories.

“Hey, Buff,” he said, catching her on the way back to her dorm. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him. “You looking for Willow? She told me she was gonna be studying in the library for a while.”

“Um, here to see you, actually,” he said. 

“Is something wrong?” she asked, immediately straightening up into a battle stance.

“Kind of,” he said. And then he hesitated, because “I saw a demon somewhere,” wasn’t exactly a story he could back up if she asked follow up questions. Which she would, because this was her whole deal.

He cycled through the list of their other suggestions in his mind, but couldn’t remember anything specific. Something about museums and mermaids? 

All he could think of was his own girlfriend’s idea. “Uh,” he said. “A giraffe is… loose.”

She blinked at him. “A what? Is huh?”

“From the zoo,” he added.

“A giraffe is loose from the zoo,” she repeated.

Oz nodded.

She seemed to consider, like she was trying to piece together how this was her problem. “Um… should we… call the police?”

“I guess,” he said, and then immediately added. “Not. Because it’s kind of stampeding, and they might just shoot it, or something.”

“Wow,” she said, and gave him a suspicious look, even if her face was soft. “I had no idea you were so fond of giraffes.”

“Well, exotic animals,” he shrugged. “Dingoes, giraffes. Kind of the same thing, if you think about it.”

“Sure,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Okay, well, I’m kind of known for slaying things, so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to help it, but I guess I could lead it away from populated areas. And we’ll bring the tranq gun.”

She’d bought it, sort of, and Oz breathed a sigh of relief as they wandered out into the town.

The tricky thing now was just going to be leading her on a wild goose— or giraffe— chase until they ended up back at her house, but somehow that didn’t seem nearly as daunting as getting her to swallow his story in the first place.

Assuming she had… and hadn’t just figured out the whole truth already.

Chapter Text

Tara really had to give it to Buffy. She walked into her party with a bright smile, and lots of happy hugs, but she wasn’t fooling Tara.

Buffy had definitely guessed that this was where she was being led. But Willow seemed so pleased with herself for pulling this party off, and Buffy was really gracious about it all.

The only slightly awkward thing was that Spike and Buffy didn’t seem to know how to act around each other. 

It was kind of adorable, in a sad, makes-you-want-to-hug-them-both kind of way. She’d smiled shyly at him when she’d first come in, and he’d grinned back at her, but that had been it. They were on opposite sides of the table at dinner, but Tara had been sitting next to Spike and was pretty sure Buffy was kicking his shin.

And while Tara knew all about the necklace Spike had agonized picking out for Buffy, it was nowhere to be seen among the pile of unwrapped presents currently sitting next to them all. Tara was sure he’d give it to her at some point, but… she wished he’d had the courage to add his gift to the pile, to be seen in front of everyone else.

“So, we should play a game now, right?” Willow asked eagerly. “That’s what the cool party people do. And I would know, ‘cause I’m a college girl.”

“Truth or Dare?” Xander suggested.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Summers sighed. “I think that’s my cue to leave the cool party people to it.”

“Yes, I might wish to bow out of this one, myself,” Mr. Giles said with a wince. 

“If you’d like to join me in the kitchen, I’ll make us some coffee,” Mrs. Summers said.

Once they were gone, Spike plopped on the ground in front of the couch. “You lot are the most simple and naive pack of humans I’ve ever seen,” he said, voice dripping with disdain. “This really how you party? By whispering about secret crushes and darin’ each other to ring the neighbor's doorbell?”

“Is that what you think this game is?” Xander asked. “The trick is that the possibilities are endless . You just have to be creative with it.”

“What’s the matter, Spike?” Buffy asked. “You afraid we’re gonna ask you to do something silly?”

He scoffed again. “Bloody dare the lot of you to ask me to do anything you know I’d bite you for.”

“Chicken,” Xander said.

“Ooh, Spike, afraid of a game they play at girls’ slumber parties,” Willow grinned.

“Only because this is somehow rapidly turning into one,” Spike said.

“It’s true that the playground taunts aren’t really selling it,” Oz said. 

“Fine,” Willow said. “Then let’s just play, and we’ll show you how fun it can be. Buffy, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she said promptly.

“I dare you to eat the rest of Xander’s cake.”

“Hey!” Xander said. “Shouldn’t I be consulted about this?”

Buffy eyed his mutilated cake slice with disgust. “It doesn’t even look like you were enjoying it,” she said, but she took the plate, and finished off the slice in a few short seconds. “Xander, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“When you were a demon under the Will Be Done spell,” Buffy said. “Did you kind of want to go around destroying stuff and chasing humans?”

Xander squirmed a little, but admitted, “Yes.”

Willow squirmed even more. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Xander said, waving a hand. “I’ve always been kind of curious, actually, what it feels like for them. And it was actually easier to keep it under control than I expected, so it makes me feel way less nervous around Spike now.”

“Oi!” Spike snapped. “You’re in no less danger of me than you ever—”

“Truth or dare, Spike?” Xander asked, grinning at him.

The look in Spike’s eyes was pure murder, but he said, “Dare.”

“I dare you,” Xander said. “To prank call Angel.”

Spike raised his eyebrows. “Fine.”

“What?” Buffy gasped. “You can’t… Spike, you can’t —”

“Where’s his number?” Spike said, already standing up. “Hanging on the bloody fridge, is it?”

“There’s a business card in the stack by the phone,” Willow said, covering her mouth, eyes dancing.

Spike sauntered to the kitchen, and the rest of the group followed. Buffy’s mom and Mr. Giles were on the back porch, so they weren’t there to witness Spike plucking a business card out of the stack, and punching in the numbers.

The seconds ticked past, until a voice finally came through the speaker. “Angel Investigations, we help the—”

“Angel,” Spike gasped. “Thank God, mate, I was runnin’ around your neck of the woods when I saw the most horrific beastie. It was massive, and pale, and kind of bony, with this hair on top that went straight up, and you’ve got to come and… oh, no, hold on a mo’. Thinking back on it now, it was just that Cro-Magnon forehead of yours, wasn’t it?”

“ Spike ?” Angel sputtered. 

“Silly of me really, to make such a mistake,” Spike went on. “Should get some caution tape for that thing. If it gave me a shock, can’t imagine what it’ll do to the ladies. Well, see you, then, give my love to whatever helpless maiden is falling in your arms this week.”

Buffy squeaked, and Angel sputtered again, “Buffy? Is that… Spike, are you calling from Buffy’s phone?”

“Hang up, hang up!” Buffy shrieked, and Spike slammed the phone down, ending the call.

Xander and Willow burst out into hysterical laughter, and even Oz was grinning like a cheshire cat. Tara had only heard stories of Angel, but Spike’s prank had been hilarious, and she giggled as well as Buffy’s face turned red, and she fell against Spike’s chest.

“That was terrible,” Buffy whimpered, voice muffled against his shirt.

“Oh, love,” Spike laughed, putting his arms around her and petting her hair, the ice having broken between them at last. “You lot were right. This game’s a bloody lark.”

Chapter Text

Spike had never been in a proper relationship.

Was almost easy, with Dru. She’d picked him , changed him to suit her desires, trained him and guided him and had so often been open with what she needed and wanted, even with her childish whimsy and half-mad riddles. And he discovered with her that he didn’t do things by halves.

He loved her all the way, with every scrap of his being. Even when she didn’t always return his love in kind.

With Buffy, it was all brand new. Mortal enemies, human and demon, not meant to come together and start… dating , like any ordinary pair.

And it wasn’t always easy, knowing how to behave around her. Some nights they got on famously, laughing and teasing and having fun. Snogging was never an issue. Shagging even less so… though she wasn’t always in the mood for that, and he was quick to learn not to try if she didn’t make it clear that she wanted it.

But when it was just quiet… when it was just them , working towards something softer, something more than just friends-with-benefits, he got all tongue-tied around her, and she got all skittish and avoidant. 

But her too, he loved her with every molecule, and wanted so badly to show her that, wanted to do more for her. And was bloody terrified to try, to risk destroying whatever fragile yet-to-be-named relationship they had started.

So, sometimes… all he could do to show his love for her was to help out her bloody idiotic friends when they were caught in a bind.

“Giles?” he asked the great hulking Fyarl demon in front of him.

“You understand me,” the demon said in surprise.

“Of course I understand you.”

“I’m speaking English?”

“No, you’re speaking Fyarl, I happen to speak Fyarl,” Spike replied. “And, by the way, why the hell are you suddenly a Fyarl demon? Just come over all demony this morning?”

“As a matter of fact I did, thanks to Ethan Rayne,” Giles said bitterly. “You have to help me find him.”

“Why can’t I just run and tell the Slayer what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

“Because, Spike,” Giles snapped. “It’s a rather delicate matter, and I would quite prefer that my Slayer not see me in this condition.”

Spike snickered. “Fyarl demons aren’t known for their silver tongues, mate. Don’t have to be so uppity when you’ve got horns bigger than my face.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” Giles asked in exasperation.

Spike heaved a big sigh. “What’s this Ethan bloke look like, then?”

***

Spike took Giles as far as the diner he’d been in the night before, and managed to smooth talk the waitress into giving him info on where Ethan was staying.

But as they’d left and were about to climb back into Giles’ hunk of metal he generously called a car, Buffy jumped out of nowhere, and Giles gasped and staggered backwards, snarling a little as he fell on his tail.

“Slayer?” Spike asked, blinking in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” she said, and then pushed him out of the way. “Hang on, just let me kill this—”

“You don’t wanna do that, love,” Spike said, catching her around the waist, as Giles put up his hands and sputtered helplessly. “It’s Giles.”

Buffy blinked at the demon, lowering her weapon. “That’s… that’s Giles? But— it doesn’t sound like Giles. It’s all… growly and snarly.”

“He’s speaking Fyarl, pet.”

“How do you know?”

“Bloody hell,” Spike sighed. “Not havin’ this bloody conversation again. Look, we need to find some Ethan Rayne bloke what did this to him, and he’s staying at the Sunnydale Motor Inn. So we’ve gotta find him before he hotfoots it out of town, yeah?”

***

Ethan hadn’t left yet, though it was clear he was trying. And Spike and Buffy stood in the doorway, watching the outside for the police to show up, and watching the inside to make sure Ethan actually did his bloody spell. 

“So,” Buffy said. “How come you speak Fyarl?”

“Long while ago, Darla got it in her head that she wanted a house built. Angel told me to take care of it, so I hired a mess of Fyarl demons, and picked up the language quick enough.”

“Darla? Like… Angel’s sire, Darla?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why did she want a house?”

“Wanted to play at being a proper lady, she did. Liked that sort of thing. But Angel got all soulful before it was finished and, well, happy family was kind of broken up after that.”

“Huh,” Buffy said softly. “It’s kind of crazy that… you’ve done so much in your life, and even if you tried to tell me, I might die before you reach the end.”

He scoffed. “Like I’m ever gonna let you die.” He reached out, taking her hand, squeezing her warm fingers. “Not everything needs telling,” he said softly. “But I’ll… tell you whatever you wanna know, yeah? Share all the anecdotes you can stand to hear.”

Buffy smiled shyly, and then the police pulled up, so she went over to talk to them.

A newly-human Giles stood in front of the mirror, wearing a borrowed shirt and touching his face as if to make sure it was still there.

“How you feelin’, mate?” Spike asked.

Giles gave him a long stare out of the corner of his eye. “Bewildered.”

“Yeah, well, being a demon has that effect.”

“I meant you,” Giles said slowly. “You helped me… I know I asked you to, but you could have pawned me off on someone else, and no one would have blamed you.”

Spike shrugged, glancing over at Buffy, standing with her arms crossed as Ethan was arrested for harassment . And suddenly thought of something to make Giles feel just as uncomfortable.

“Well, it’s almost like you’re my father-in-law, innit?” he grinned, clapping the man on the back, before moving to drape an arm around Buffy’s shoulders.

Chapter Text

Tara was nervous about this, Oz could tell. But oddly enough, he wasn’t. Either this would work, or it wouldn’t, and he would have the same wolfy experience either way.

Besides, being around her was a very comfortable thing… sometimes it was like he could sense the wolf inside him relaxing just by being in her presence. He’d had the thought the first time she’d spoken to him in those Initiative cells that her demon power must be making people feel calm, and he was sticking to that belief. He was sure she could help him face this wolf thing, and work on gaining mastery over it. 

“M-maybe we should wait,” Tara said, sitting on the outside of his locked cage, while he sat on the inside. He’d already undressed, but had a towel over his lap for the time being. “Willow and I are… we’re trying to find an expert who can help us study magic, and… I mean, maybe this isn’t something I should be messing around with.”

“It’s not messing,” Oz said. “It’s not even magic. It’s… wolfy yoga, right? You can teach him the downward dog pose.”

“I just… don’t want you to be frustrated, or… or disappointed if it doesn’t work,” Tara said slowly.

“Disappointed in you?” Oz smiled. “That’s pretty impossible, so…”

“Not in me,” she said softly. “In yourself.”

Oz nodded, looking at the stained blue towel covering his knees. “I know this is a… a pretty big favor. And you can bail, I won’t be weird about it. I just… I think you can help. Get through to the wolf, in ways… no one else can. If you think you’re messing with evil forces or whatever, you can stop.”

“O-okay.”

She must be nervous, if her stutter was coming out. You wouldn’t think that she’d actually been the one to offer this. Boldly declaring “I can fix him,” on a night where Spike was contributing to the percentage of underage drinkers in America.

“And remember that you don’t have to be here all night,” Oz said. “Willow will be here before I change back, so I’ll be fine.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, and lighting a couple of candles in front of her. 

And then he felt it… that tingling buzz all through his skin.

The wolf was waking up.

“It’s coming,” he murmured.

“Okay,” Tara said. “Let’s um… just breathe slowly until it happens, okay? Like… just let it come, don’t fight it or fear it, welcome him in, and let him take over…”

He listened, trying to shove down the instinctual fear and hatred he always felt when the wolf began taking over.

But he was only able to inhale and exhale one and a half times before total blackout.

***

“How’d it go?” he asked Tara the next night, though the swelling in his throat pretty much answered that question for him.

“Um,” she said. “Well, it… it was only the first night, so… maybe I’m just establishing trust with him, right now. Getting him used to me, and all that.” She paused. “Are you sure you don’t want Willow here? She might help…”

“I think…” Oz chewed his lip. “She kind of… brings out the wolf in me… anyway. Because I love her, so the wolf kind of thinks… she belongs to him?”

“Got it,” Tara said softly. “Well… I don’t know if the breathing helped, but we’ll start now, and not try anything else until it comes, okay?”

And that part wasn’t horrible. He didn’t know much about meditation, but it was nice to just sit there in the quiet, breathing in her magic candle scent.

“It’s coming,” he finally said.

Tara scooted forward. “You’re okay,” she said softly. “Hey, it’s just me, I’m friendly, okay?”

Oz blinked, realizing she was talking to the wolf.

“I’m sorry you have to be in a cage,” Tara said sadly. “But it’s only because we’re still strangers. Oz wants you to be our friend, though… maybe someday we can learn how to get along, and you can be out here playing with us all night. Doesn’t that sound—”

***

She brought Spike on the third night. Oz’s throat hurt so much he could barely speak, but Spike just grinned at him in such a friendly way that Oz didn’t even ask why he was there. He was just glad.

Spike sat and breathed in the candles with them, and when Oz blacked out…

He didn’t, quite. It wasn’t him, he was in entirely the wrong body. But he could still see vague shapes, that looked like food… and also looked like… his pack.

He could see the bars, and he hated that. He lunged against his prison, howling in protest.

A pain went up his throat, climbing into his head, and his stomach, and he immediately stopped, going still, and the pain ceased.

He blacked out fully after that.

But Tara and Spike were still there in the morning with Willow. All of them were beaming at him, even though Tara was leaning on Spike’s shoulder, looking about two seconds away from falling asleep.

“You stopped howling,” Tara said, her smile the biggest of the three. “You stopped when the chip fired. You’ve never done that before.”

“I could see you,” Oz said. “I think… it was only for a few minutes, but… it was me, and the wolf, and I saw you, and I knew you. And the chip hurt, so I…” he frowned. “But after that? When I wasn’t aware, was I barking then?”

“Nope,” Spike grinned. “Were even more mild-mannered than you are on a normal day. Paced for a bit, then went to sleep, but you didn’t make any more noise.”

Willow opened the cage door and threw her arms around him, knocking him to the ground. He was still naked, but… whatever. They’d all seen him like this at some point.

“I’m so proud of you,” Willow whispered. “I love you, my sweet werewolf.”

Chapter Text

“This place is dead,” Buffy commented disdainfully, as she and Tara stepped into the Bronze.

“Well… it’s Saturday afternoon,” Tara said cautiously.

“So? It’s the weekend, weekends are for partying.”

“Nights are for partying," Tara corrected. “Friday night is when people go crazy, and then have to spend Saturday recovering so they can party again tonight.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows, and smirked. “Look who knows so much about partying.”

“Um, well.” Tara shrugged, smiling bashfully. “Spike’s… kind of a bad influence.”

“Believe me, I know,” Buffy sighed. “Welp, fortunately we’re all minors here today, so, you want to get something to drink that won’t have us regretting our life choices later on?”

Tara still wasn’t entirely sure how she’d ended up here. Buffy and Oz had come to the apartment, and Spike had firmly declared that Tara spent too much time cooped up in there, and needed to be out having fun. So he’d shooed Buffy and Tara out the door, and now they were at the Bronze on a Saturday afternoon.

Buffy came back with their drinks, and nodded towards the pool tables. “You any good at that?”

“Uh,” Tara said. “Not really. But I know the rules and stuff, so I don’t mind trying.”

“This is definitely something to practice," Buffy said with a nod, as she racked the balls up on one of the tables. She handed a cue to Tara, and then grinned. “We should get you really good at it, and then bring Spike here and make him bet he can beat you.”

“He… sort of wants us to talk,” Tara said, smiling awkwardly, like that would make all of this less awkward.

It wasn’t that she minded being alone with Buffy. She felt a deep respect and attachment to Buffy ever since being taken into her home after the Initiative stuff, and Buffy was sweet and friendly enough to get along with anyone. 

But Tara had suddenly realized what Spike’s purpose had been in sending them out. 

He’d been dropping hints that Tara needed to find out what he and Buffy were.

“He wants us to talk?” Buffy asked, lining up her shot, and sinking her ball. “About… what? Did I do something? Did he do something?” She considered. “Did you do something?”

“I don’t think there’s any somethings,” Tara said. “He um… he’s snooping for info on, you know.” She lined up her own shot, but her ball landed just shy of  a pocket. “What you feel for him.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, and rolled her eyes. “God, what an idiot.”

“I keep telling him it’s none of my business,” Tara said. “But he’s just… he’s nervous. He likes you… kind of a lot, and he’s holding back in case it scares you.” She blushed. “That’s not my business, either. He should be the one telling you, not me.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said. “Yeah, he should.” She sighed, thumping her stick into the ground a few times before taking her turn. “If I… if I say what I’m thinking, could we maybe keep it between us? I’d kind of like to talk to someone about it, but I don’t really want you to be a spy for him.”

Tara nodded. “I won’t. I’ll tell him he needs to ask you himself.”

“Okay,” Buffy said, nodding quickly, but she waited until they’d both played a few more turns before she finally said, “I don’t know, is the thing.”

“I kinda figured.”

“I already tried a romance with a vampire. And it… went so badly, for so many reasons. Part of it was that Angel just… wasn’t a good fit for me, but I couldn’t see that, I only knew what I was feeling, and that I wanted him so badly.” 

She closed her eyes. “So I… don’t know how to tell. Because I’m feeling things for Spike… lots of things, big, intense, confusing things, but… what if it’s the same deal? Maybe I’m just attracted to vampires, and this is actually a big mistake, but I won’t notice until all the hurt’s been done and he’s gone. And if only I’d noticed it at the start… so, this time I’m trying to notice. Here at the start.”

“And don’t you think that might be enough?” Tara asked. “You’re taking a good long look, and you’re not seeing any reason to stop. So maybe there isn’t one, yet, and you’ve checked and made sure.”

Buffy shrugged. “But it’s harder too because he doesn't have a soul. And I don’t know… how bright that flame is going to burn, when he objectively doesn’t have a reason to be all loyal and committed. It’s just fun for him right now, so we’re having fun.”  

She blinked, shaking her head to get rid of the tears forming in her eyes. “I want to trust him,” she said softly. “I want to trust him with everything… and I don’t want to be wrong to trust him, so if… if he’s just gonna end up hurting me… I’d rather know now.”

“You can’t know,” Tara said softly. “Ever. With anyone.”

“Yeah.” Buffy fired her shot with too much strength, and it bounced into a cluster of three other balls, sending them scattering. “The vampire thing just makes it scarier, I guess.”

“I don’t know a lot about your relationship with Angel,” Tara said. “But I know that you’ve seen Spike at his evilest, and you’ve seen the changes in him since. You struck up a friendship before trying to turn it into something more, and if he’s going to break your heart… it’s a blindside none of us will see coming, Buffy. You and he may not work out, but he’s in it for the long-haul, here. He’s one of us now, vampire or no, and he has no intention of hurting you now or in the future. And he’s… he’s just as terrified that he can’t trust you , but that doesn’t stop him from feeling strongly for you, anyway.”

Chapter Text

“Bloody hell, Slayer. You’re tellin’ me you offed a vamp by giving him holy water when he took his pills?”

Buffy shrugged, idly waving her axe. “What else was I supposed to do? I didn’t have any Slayer strength.”

Spike shook his head. “Diabolical, that is.”

She snorted. “Hey. I was definitely the least diabolical person in that situation.”

“Remind me to bite your Watcher when I get this chip out for doing that to you,” Spike snarled.

Buffy shook her head. “He made a mistake. He didn’t want to, and he hated himself for it, and he told me when it mattered, and lost his job over it. He’s long since made up for it, and I forgave him ages ago.”

Spike had more thoughts on the subject, but suddenly her soft little hand was slipping into his, and he forgot everything except squeezing it tight.

They were technically supposed to be on patrol, but it had sort of ended up just being a moonlight stroll between the two of them. Sharing snippets of their past, helping the other one to know and understand them both better.

And it gave every nerve in his body a thrill when she did something so… affectionate. He swung their joined hands a little as they walked.

“My turn, is it?” he said. “Well, was this one time I was nabbed and put on a WWII submarine—”

“Spike, look,” Buffy said urgently, gesturing to a dark shape in the shadows.

Or, more than one shape. A demon was striding along, but then of those bloody Initiative blokes threw a net over him and knocked him to the ground.

Buffy pulled her hand free from Spike’s, and gave him an apologetic look. “That’s a story for later, because I totally need to hear the rest of it,” she said. “But we have to do something.”

“What?” Spike asked. “Slayer, what can we do? Unless you’ve decided to get real fun about killing humans all of a sudden—”

“Help!” the demon cried. “For the love of Celine Dion, someone help me!”

Buffy looked at Spike helplessly, and charged. She tackled the solider, and he was up on his feet in no time, swinging blows at her. He tried warding her off with the body of his rifle, but she kicked it away, and beat him to the ground, pounding his head a few times to knock him out.

Spike crouched next to the fallen demon, helping pull the net off of him. He had green skin, red horns and eyes— nothing particularly unusual, though Spike was having trouble identifying his kind. And the demon ruined further ruined all theories Spike might have had by giving a pained smile and saying, “Well, if I’d known the Hellmouth was this cute about hazing the new kid, I probably wouldn’t have left the farm.”

Spike raised an eyebrow as he helped the demon to his feet. “You’re not from around here, then?”

“Definitely not, sugar plum, I’m not really a fan of small towns like this,” the demon laughed. “No, I hang my hat in L.A. but I…”

“Spike!” Buffy called. “Bring that net over here, I need something to tie this guy up with.”

Spike shrugged at the demon. “My lady calls.” 

The demon followed as Spike dragged the net over, and Buffy smiled up at both of them as she began slicing off pieces with her axe. “Hi,” she said. “You okay?”

“Oh sure, fine and dandy,” the demon said, and rubbed his neck. “Gonna be feeling those ouchies for awhile, but at least I’m still walking, I guess.”

“You were luckier than him,” Buffy said, nodding to Spike. “He got bagged by one of these freaks.”

“Well, didn’t have you to save me, then,” Spike grumbled. 

“So what are you then, little miss?” the demon asked Buffy. “Some kind of guardian angel for the…” His red eyes widened. “Or, no… you can’t be… you’re a Slayer, aren’t you?”

“I’m Buffy,” she said, smiling and shrugging modestly. “And uh… yeah, I’m not usually known for saving demons and knocking down humans, but it’s been a weird several months.”

“Name’s Lorne,” he offered. “I’ve got a karaoke bar in the good old City of Angels, but I thought I might take a day trip up here and drum up some business. Not that I’m hurting for company, just thought folks here might like to take a breather from the literal mouth of hell? Sunnydale can be great if you’re planning some unholy ritual, but the more peaceful demons don’t really like being around when the big stuff starts to go down.”

“Bet you’re sorry you ever came here now,” Buffy said.

“Well,” Lorne said, flashing her a bright smile. “Meeting you two was definitely the sweetest part of this trip.” He handed her a small flyer. “I think I’m gonna skedaddle, but, if you kids are ever down south, I’d love to have you stop by Caritas. Sea breezes on the house for my rescuers.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said, smiling sweetly. “Nice meeting you.” She watched him walk away, then turned to Spike in a panic. “Stay here. I need to find a pay phone and call Riley.”

“ Why the sodding hell?”

“Because I checked this guy’s ID,” Buffy said, nodding to the prone soldier. “And it’s Jesse Franklin. The guy who’s obsessed with taking you back.”

Chapter Text

Oz gripped the phone tightly in his hand, trying to process what Buffy had just told him.

“You don’t have to,” Buffy said softly. “But I… I don’t want Tara to be alone right now, so I think you and Will should head over there anyway. And if you just want to stay with her instead of meeting us at Giles’…”

“But Spike is with you,” Oz said. He looked at Willow, who was desperately trying to listen in, twisting her sweater nervously in her hands.

“Yeah,” Buffy said. “Spike is with me. And Riley’s on his way.”

“So Spike is with you and… two of the Initiative guys.”

Buffy was silent for a moment, and he could hear the understanding in her voice when she finally replied, “Yeah. And he’s not… he didn’t want to leave.”

“Then we’ll be on our way,” Oz said, and carefully hung up the phone.

“Oz, what did she—” Willow started, but he cut her off by grabbing her tight, burying his face in her shoulder, and almost wishing he knew how to unleash the wolf on command.

***

He felt like he was going to be sick, when he could actually get close enough to recognize Jesse Franklin’s scent. It was worse than he felt around Riley, like a bazillion percent worse, and yet when Riley walked through the door, Oz felt like he was going to be even sicker.

Tara had started trembling the second she saw Jesse, and Spike had taken her up to Giles’ bedroom, where they could still sort of see and hear what was going on, but Jesse wouldn’t be able to see them.

Even if he hadn’t been blindfolded and tied to a chair, and was still, for the moment, unconscious.

Willow was squeezing Oz’s hand with both of hers, while Giles and Xander and Buffy and Riley were talking in low voices.

“Oz,” Willow whispered. “You don’t have to stay.”

But Oz shook his head. Spike wouldn’t leave Buffy, even if he wasn’t in the room with her, and Oz and Tara were resolved not to leave him by himself, either.

Terrifying though it was.

Buffy walked over to them, giving a pained smile. “Okay,” she said. “Riley’s gonna hide out in the other room, and… we’re gonna wake Jesse up and see what he knows.” She pursed her lips, giving Oz a sympathetic look. “You three gonna be okay upstairs?”

“Sure,” Oz said. “As long as he’s not secretly a werewolf or a vampire and can tell that we’re here.”

“He’s not,” Buffy smiled. 

So Oz went upstairs. Spike and Tara were on the floor, leaning against the bed, and though Spike’s eyes were trained on the action downstairs, Tara’s were firmly shut tight, her head on Spike’s thigh while he ran his fingers through her hair.

Oz plopped himself on Spike’s other side, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Drives you bonkers, doesn’t it?” Spike whispered. “Smellin’ him all over the place.”

Oz just nodded.

***

Jesse sputtered as the water splashed in his blindfolded face, coughing and shaking his head. “What the hell?”

“Hello, Jesse,” Buffy said. “You can’t see me, but I’m the chick that bagged you while you were trying to bag a harmless demon.”

“Circle of life, huh?” Jesse asked, grinning and cracking his neck a little. “Well, no human girl could take me down like that, so you’re probably one of them, right? Where am I, your secret underground cave?”

“Yep,” Buffy said. “And my organization is very displeased with what you’ve been doing out there. This is my town, and you’re tracking mud in all over the floor.”

“Can’t see how y’all would notice,” Jesse replied. “Seeing as how there’s so much mud here already.”

Buffy clocked him in the show, and he gasped, and then chuckled. “Yep, that’s an HST arm if I’ve ever felt one.”

“I’d be really careful about what you say to me,” Buffy said evenly. “Because you have no idea who else is listening, buddy. The things you’re doing, the monsters you’re capturing… those are only the easy ones. Simple, or harmless, or don’t put up much of a fight. The real power in this town is too clever to be caught, and you’re about thirty demons past pissing it off.”

“Really,” Jesse said. “Then why am I blindfolded, huh? Why am I not being tortured, and shown all the underground horrors? You need me, toots. You’re poking around for information that you’re too stupid to figure out on your own.”

Spike growled a little, and Tara stirred, murmuring, “Hush.”

“You’re half right,” Buffy said. “Except that I already know everything about you that I need to. I know where your lab is, and how many of you there are. I know everything I need to destroy you, but the reason I haven’t done so already is because I need to know about the chips.”

Oz tensed, because Jesse suddenly sat up straighter, cocking his head a little, smiling a totally greasy smile. “Chips?” he asked, with all the innocence in the world.

“All I’ve been told is to watch out for them,” Buffy said. “I don’t know that that means, or what they are, or where they might be, so—”

“Oh, little girl,” Jesse laughed. “You were doing so well up until that.”

“Yeah?” Buffy said. “The guy who is my prisoner and hostage has notes on how I could do better?”

Jesse grinned even wider, and Oz felt cold inside. He scooted a little closer to Spike. 

“Sure do,” Jesse said, and leaned forward, saying very firmly and precisely, “Dachshund.”

Oz’s chip fired with no warning, and kept firing and firing, filling him up with such intense pain that he couldn’t stop the scream that burst out of him.

And somewhere around him, other screams were going on, too. 

Chapter Text

There was so much noise, and so much pain, and Tara couldn’t think which to focus on. All she could do was cry out, and scream and back away from whatever or whomever she was touching, curling in on herself and aching for her mother to walk in, to hold her and make the hurt stop and tell her everything was going to be all right…

“What the hell did you just do?”

“You wanted to know so much about their chips? They’re voice-activated, your darlin’ little jailbirds were never actually free from us. You know how often we’ve been out there, calling that word, trying to sniff them out?”

“Oh, God, Oz… Oz it’s okay, it—”

“Aughhh, Slayer, damn it, make him turn it off !”

“Tara? Tara, hey, you gotta look at me, you… oh God…”

“Let me handle this, Buffy— I’ll change the little pillock’s mind—”

There was more screaming, this time from the voice that plagued Tara’s thoughts at night, transporting her right back into that stupid dentist chair in the lab while they pricked her with icy needles and made her magic fly out of her and hurt hurt hurt —

“Lab— labrador!”

And Tara was plunged into blissful oblivion.

***

There was a low murmuring of voices that grew steadily louder as Tara swam back to consciousness. She blinked open her eyes, realizing she was now on Mr. Giles’ bed, sitting up next to Spike, who had his arm around her.

“Hey,” Spike said, smiling at her with bloodshot eyes and tear tracks drying on his cheeks. “There’s my beautiful girl.”

Buffy was standing at the foot of the bed, and Oz was curled in Willow’s arms on the ground. Xander knelt next to Tara and said, “Water?” 

She opened her mouth to thank him as she took the offered glass, but nothing came out except a croak.

“Shh,” Spike hummed, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t try, Luthien. You were screamin’ more than any of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said, looking at Tara with such pain in her eyes. “I shouldn’t… have brought up the chips. I was just trying to find out what’s so special about the three of you without, you know, directly bringing up the three of you.”

“Giles took him though, he’s gone, though,” Riley said, and Tara flinched, curling deeper into Spike’s embrace. She hadn’t noticed him standing on the stairs.

“You’re not,” Spike said icily.

“Well, I’m following a different set of orders, now,” Riley said, and looked at Buffy. “You give me the word, and I’m gone.”

Buffy sighed. “In a minute. We still… we’re trying to figure out what to do next.”

“I told you, he’ll have nothing to lead him back here,” Riley said. “Giles tortured him into giving the word to stop the chips, and since you knocked him out and he never even saw where he was, dumping him right back where you found him will leave him powerless to trace any of you.”

“I just don’t understand,” Buffy said. “How the chips can be… activated to fire just from a spoken code word. I mean I know, fancy science and technology I don't understand, but even still… that’s kind of next level.”

“We think they’re working with magic,” Oz said, his voice low and scratchy. “That’s why you couldn’t find us with a locator spell.”

“No,” Riley said, and frowned. “I mean… no way, they… they’re trying to blot out anything weird or supernatural, they wouldn’t be using it.” He frowned even deeper as he considered. “Would they?”

“People become what they fear, sometimes,” Buffy said with a shrug. “Okay, so… that’s maybe a good thing to know. That we’ll need to be equipped with some magic of our own going in.”

“ Are we going in?” Tara asked, and her voice sounded feeble, like a Who in a dust speck that no one could hear, but everyone looked at her anyway.

“Not you,” Buffy said, giving an encouraging smile. “And not tonight.” She sighed. “Riley thinks… that Jesse betraying any information to us makes him a traitor and a liability. You know, to them. Which is why we’re sending him back, instead of keeping him, so they can deal with him.”

“Because if we kill him or the Initiative comes looking for him, then we’d be the ones in trouble,” Xander said.

“Exactly,” Buffy replied. She looked at Riley. “Anything I’m missing?”

Riley shrugged. “Only that you’re on borrowed time, here. The Initiative knows you’re out there now… they probably won’t come searching, but they know you want to break in, so they’ll be looking for you.”

Buffy nodded. “Then I guess you should start searching for a way to get us in. Doesn't have to be sneaky. It just has to work.” She sighed, sweeping her eyes over the room. “And I want those chips out ,” she warned. “So find me someone who can do that.”

“Got it,” Riley said.

“You can go,” Buffy said. “You’re… dismissed or whatever.”

Riley left without another word, and Buffy gave a tired sigh, rubbing her eyes with her fingers.

“What now?” Willow asked quietly.

“Now,” Buffy said. “Now… I’m hungry.”

Xander perked up. “Oh, finding sustenance, that’s my job, right?”

Buffy smiled weakly at him. “Yeah, but I don’t… want any of us travelling alone right now. Willow, you wanna go with him?”

Willow nodded, giving Oz a kiss before pulling away from his embrace. Oz immediately climbed onto the bed and settled next to Spike. 

Once they were gone, Buffy climbed up onto the bed as well, planting herself in Spike’s lap. He wound both his arms around her waist, and dropped his head to her shoulder.

Buffy lifted her own arms, and Tara immediately accepted the invitation, curling up against her shoulder while Oz leaned against her other side.

Buffy let out a long, weary sigh, and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Chapter Text

The next several days were spent trying to find out what the rest of Sunnydale’s demon population thought of the Initiative.

The demons were scared, that seemed to be the general theme of the town. The solider boys were actively hunting, and grabbing anything they saw, and while it made Buffy’s regular patrols a mite easier, that didn’t seem to bring her any relief. 

Meant a lot more nights that she was willing to shag, of course, so it shook out well for Spike… but it was hard to take much pleasure in it when she was so tense and upset all the time.

“Riley says there was a project,” she told him, pacing in front of him in his bedroom one night, wearing nothing but a shirt that came to her thighs. “But it… it was abandoned, suddenly.”

“What sort of project?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy said. “Riley only saw the files because they were marked as ‘terminated.’ It was called Project Adam.”

“Huh,” Spike said. “Adam. Makes me think of the first man, you know? As in Adam and Eve?”

Buffy frowned. “The first man… to do what?”

“Dunno,” Spike said. “Maybe not to do anything. Could be the first man to just… be. Something new, something different.”

She sank down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. “I just… I’m not used to waiting this much. It’s so considerate when an apocalypse is in a prophecy. But all this… secrecy, and closed doors, and humans I have no idea what to do with… I can’t stand this.”

“I know,” Spike said softly. “Think you’re doing brilliantly, though.” He reached forward, tugging her hand, pulling her back to him. “And you’ve done all you can for one night, yeah? Will you please give yourself a rest, least for now?”

She sighed, but nodded, climbing into his arms, laying her head on his chest.

“Think we should go out,” Spike murmured.

“You just told me to go to bed, mister.”

“Didn’t mean tonight. I want to take you somewhere… away from all this.”

“Spike, I can’t just—”

“Know a place,” he went on. “Close by, peaceful, like. Just… say you’ll spend an evening with me there? Might make things seem clearer, when you come back to all of this.”

She ran her fingers over his bare skin thoughtfully. “Yeah… okay.”

***

He’d found it when searching for the Gem of Amara. Felt like some other mystery or legend to solve, but he hadn’t been interested at the time.

It made him feel… something, when he looked at this place. Something he hadn’t wanted to think about then. Something he very much wanted to be able to give to Buffy now.

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes lighting up as she took in the glittering rocks, the too-blue pool, the gentle waterfall tumbling down. “Spike… how did I never know this was here?”

“Not much cause for you to go into dark, underground caves, is there?” he asked gently. “Unless you’re looking for some nasty. Fancy a dip?”

“I didn’t bring my—”

“Don’t give me that,” he laughed. “Just you and me, pet. No one else to see you. Made sure of that.”

She blushed, but needed no other convincing to undress, and step naked into the sparkling pool with him. “This is so stupid,” she laughed, but gave a moan of pleasure as the water washed over her. “Because it’s… probably magic, or cursed or something.”

“Maybe.” He caught her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers. “But I don’t bloody care, if it’ll take your mind off of anything going on in the real world.”

***

He’d thought the night in the ruined school was the best of his existence but this… this was better by far. She was so free and light, so giddy and magical, and yeah the water helped a good bit, but by the time they’d crawled into the little alcove behind the waterfall and were lazily making out, he thought he might combust from happiness.

“Thank you,” Buffy murmured against his lips. “This was… I feel so selfish to do stuff like this when people around me are hurting but… I needed this, Spike.”

“I know,” he said softly. “Just want to take care of you, love… want you to realize you’re someone worth saving and helping, too.”

She gave a little laugh, breaking away, leaning her head against his shoulder as his arms came up around her.

They watched the back of the waterfall in silence for a few minutes, before Buffy said softly, “I want to trust you.”

“With what?”

“Ev… everything.”

His heart tried valiantly to beat, and he looked down at her. “What does that mean?” he murmured.

She swallowed. “I want us to be together. Like, properly, in a real, defined… exclusively coupled-up, tacky boyfriend and girlfriend matching t-shirts kind of relationship.”

He felt a lump in his throat, and choked out, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replied in a small voice. “Is that… I mean, do you want that?”

His response was to kiss her again. “Oh, Buffy,” he murmured. “My sweet girl, my Slayer…”

“I said to Tara that I was… scared, terrified, even, because…”

“I know, I know,” he gasped. “Me too, God, me, too. I know it’s new, and fast, and wrong, but…”

“It’s not wrong,” she said gently. “I looked at it from every angle. I tried so hard to find something wrong… but I couldn’t. It’s just us, Spike… just you and me, and I… I like you… a lot.” She gave a nervous laugh, and buried her face in his shoulder. “My past self would be totally disgusted that I like you this much, but I do, so.”

“I love you, a bit.”

“Really?” she asked, that voice still so small and frightened.

“Really,” he whispered, cradling her cheek, and kissing her again, long and slow, feeling his love of her increase with every second. “I do, Buffy. I love you.”

Chapter Text

Willow frowned at the sparkly red drink placed in front of her, and said, “I don’t think this is entirely on the up-and-up.”

“Come on, Red,” Spike said. “Bought drinks for the rest of you lot, haven’t I? Tara, and Xander… and Buffy, but only once.”

Willow looked at Oz suspiciously. “Has he bought drinks for you?”

Oz shrugged. “We might have had our share of moonshine on this sofa.” He smiled at her, petting the ends of her short hair as he rubbed her back. “It’s nothing you don’t see at every campus party, Will… but don’t think you have to drink it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t,” Buffy chirped. “Perfectly sober and legal over here.” She took a big swig out of the glass in her hand. “Mm, yummy responsible goodness.”

“That’s mine, love,” Spike said.

“ Blech ,” Buffy said, sticking her tongue out, her eyes all pinched up. “Why is it all burn-y and smoke-y?”

“That’s how you know it’s good,” Spike said. “Not that it is, here, ‘course. The stuff they have here is all swill, but it’s cheap, so we forebear.”

Buffy considered, and then took another sip of Spike’s drink. “ Blech ,” she said again.

“Well, it’s not that cheap,” Spike huffed, taking it back. “Drink your own, if you don’t even like it. Or Red’s, since she’s clearly abstaining.”

“I’m not abstaining,” Willow pouted. “I just don’t really feel like getting arrested today.” She took a cautious sip of her drink. 

“Good, yeah?” Spike grinned.

Willow glared at him. “You’re a terrible influence on the youth and will corrupt an entire generation.”

“That’s the plan,” Spike said. He leered at her, raising a suggestive eyebrow, and Willow’s eyes went wide.

“Spike,” Buffy sighed. “Do you have to be such a pig?”

“Come on, Buffy,” Willow said, grabbing Buffy’s hand, and pulling her up. “I think we should go get muffins and not share any.”

Spike chuckled as they took off, and looked at Oz. “She’s so easy to stir up, in’t she?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to stop flirting with my girlfriend,” Oz said. “For your own good. You’re dating a Slayer now, I’d hate to have a wandering eye with her around.”

“Maybe I like making the Slayer jealous,” Spike grinned. “Gets her all feisty and possessive.”

“Sure.”

They watched the girls over at the bar counter for a minute, and then Spike said, “So, you and she work out all your differences, then?”

“I think so,” Oz said. “I hope so. She’s not… as spooked by the wolf as I always kind of thought she was.”

“I coulda told you that,” Spike said gently. “Even before we were mates.”

“Yeah, well… I know I’m sort of on the fringe, socially, but… it was always stuff I chose before, you know? Like how I look, or talk, or the band thing. But this… this monster , hurting people, all loud and aggressive that I can’t even remember it afterwards… I mean, I kinda envy you, because at least as a vampire you’re aware all the time. You can put a stop to whatever damage you’re doing, if you’re not enjoying it.”

“I guess,” Spike shifted. “I was… lucky, though. Vamp-wise. For some, a lot even, maybe… it is like a wolf. Loud and aggressive and… not even aware of the damage you’re causing. Only there’s no waking up afterwards because… you’re dead.”

Oz sat with that for a while.

“So,” Spike said, shrugging, and stretching his legs out to rest on the little table in front of them. “Not that I wish I wasn’t this, exactly, ‘cause I generally like who I am. But I think it must be a bit of all right, knowing you just have to get through your three nights, and then go back to living the rest of the month like you were before.”

“But it’s in me all the time,” Oz said. “Veruca said it. You said it. Tara says it. And I can feel it… more… now.”

“Even so,” Spike said quietly. “You didn’t become part of it. It became part of you . ”

Oz didn’t have any response to that, and sipped his drink quietly, looking out at the girls at the bar again. He frowned when a familiar figure appeared next to Buffy, and Spike sat up with a jolt, before leaping to his feet.

“Oh, hell no,” he snarled, and marched over to the bar, with Oz hurrying behind him.

The figure at the bar whipped around, and scowled at them. “Spike,” Angel said, hatred flying through his gritted teeth, but then his look softened when he saw Oz. “And…” he frowned in confusion, then looked at Buffy and Willow. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly.

“Yeah, I don’t either,” Buffy grumbled. “What are you doing here, Angel?”

“Can we go somewhere else to talk?” Angel said. “Wesley and Cordelia are waiting in my car, and—”

“Wesley?” Buffy snapped.

“And Cordelia ?” Willow squeaked. “Wow, they finally got together, huh?”

“What?” Angel said. “No, it’s not like that… they’re working for me, Willow, you knew that.”

“I didn’t know about Wesley,” Willow pointed out.

“Okay,” Angel said, his face looking more confused by the second. “That’s not really the important thing here.”

“This isn’t ‘cause I insulted your precious forehead over the phone, is it?” Spike asked with a grin.

“What?” Angel said. “No.” He paused. “A little. But not because of the insult,” he was quick to add, and looked at Buffy helplessly. “I was worried when I heard Spike there with you, Buffy—”

“Yeah, so worried that you waited almost a month to come check on me,” Buffy said.

“We’ve been busy,” Angel said. “I came as soon as I could… and the rest of my team is with me because… well, because Cordelia gets visions now, and she saw something I think you’ll need all hands on deck for.”

“And that is?” Buffy asked.

“Faith’s about to wake up.”

Chapter Text

Mr. Giles’ apartment was already pretty small, but today it felt extra crowded.

Probably because of the addition of Angel and his two friends along with the regular gang.

“I told Angel he didn’t need to drag us all the way up here,” the young woman named Cordelia huffed. “We run a business now, with paying customers, and a rogue Slayer probably isn’t gonna care about any invoices that get chucked her way.”

“Well,” Buffy sighed. “We don’t know where she is, so I guess… the more people we have out there searching for her, the better.”

“And when we find her?” asked the younger British man, who looked exactly like Mr. Giles probably had twenty years ago. “Buffy, need I remind you that she has resisted capture before—”

“Yeah, Wes, I remember,” Buffy said. “But maybe we don’t need to capture her… I mean, she could be terrified, or not remember anything that happened… or maybe she does, and is sorry and is hiding alone somewhere. We have to give her that chance to come back, and not make her think we’re just waiting around to condemn her.”

There was a dead silence, for the first time that evening, as everyone turned to Buffy with various degrees of pitying looks.

“We have to try,” Buffy insisted. “If the alternative is killing her or sending her to a jail that probably wouldn’t even be able to hold her… then we have to offer the olive branch first.”

***

They went out in pairs, and Tara was assigned to Xander, who was clutching his crossbow like it was the only thing that could save him, marching through the streets of Sunnydale with grim determination.

“So,” Tara ventured. “Faith kinda… seems like a bogeyman to all of you. Even to people in L.A.”

Xander pinched his lips together, and shifted his crossbow to the other arm. “She wasn’t always. She was cool, at first.” He hesitated, then admitted, “I slept with her, once.”

“Oh… okay?”

“I know, TMI,” Xander said, waving a hand. “I only bring it up because she was still on our side then, and I thought that it… was gonna be the start of us dating or something stupid like that. But she kicked me out right away, and Buffy told me later that guys she sleeps with are just all a big joke to her, and… so I just think… she really only does look out for herself. She doesn’t have anyone to connect with.”

“S-sexually?”

“At all.” Xander kicked the ground, and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Buffy’s right. If we show Faith she’s not alone, she can stop trying so hard to be alone.”

***

Their search was a bust, and when they all checked in at Mr. Giles’ later that night, no one else had seemed to have very much luck, either.

And Buffy and Spike weren’t there.

“I’m going back out,” Angel announced. “I knew Spike couldn’t actually be all new-leaf-guy like you seem to think…”

“ Hey ,” Willow said. “Angel, come on, we all gave you another chance even though you… I mean, even after…”

Angel winced, like he’d been reminded of something terrible. “It’s different.”

“Not really,” Oz said. “Different guy then, different guy now.”

“Look, they’ve probably got it handled,” Cordelia said. “Angel, remember when you and Buffy used to stay out all night when there was a crisis going on? You wouldn’t check in until the next day, sometimes.”

“That’s because we were dating,” Angel protested.

“As opposed to what Buffy and Spike are doing?” Xander said.

“All right,” Mr. Giles sighed. “I think it is quite likely Buffy and Spike are still on the hunt, or are taking some time to themselves, so, everyone here may turn in for the night, and we will reconvene tomorrow to see if there’s news.”

***

There wasn’t news.

Other than the fact that three gung-ho assassins from the Watchers’ Council were out looking for Faith now, too… as well as apparently every cop in Sunnydale.

The group split up into search parties again, and this time Tara went with Oz. “Has anyone checked in with Mrs. Summers?” she asked. “Asked if she’s seen anything?”

Oz shrugged. “We can, now.”

***

“Of course I’ve seen Buffy,” Mrs. Summers said in surprise. “Faith was here last night, threatened to kill me… but Buffy stopped her, and the police took her.”

Tara frowned. “And… Spike?”

“He was here, too.” Mrs. Summers shrugged. “He took off after Faith was arrested. Buffy told me today she was going to see all of you, and then head to the Bronze.”

Tara looked at Oz. “Guess we know where to check next.”

***

Buffy was at the Bronze. Alone. Dancing with a cluster of guys, in skin-tight leather clothing, with her boyfriend nowhere in sight.

“Something’s wrong,” Tara said.

“Yeah, I got that,” Oz said. “Could be anything though, in this town.” They moved over to her, and when Buffy took a break from dancing, he said, “Buffy?”

She whirled around, frowning at them in confusion for a minute, before grinning. 

And her aura was just… wrong. Fragmented, like there was something trying to force its way in where it didn’t belong. “Oh, hey, Oz.” She looked at Tara. “And, uh…”

Something shiny glittered in her mouth when she talked, and Tara gasped, “Oh, God, is that… a tongue piercing?”

“Oh, yeah,” she smirked, sticking out her tongue so they could admire the ring nestled in its swollen flesh. “Figured I should get something a little interesting to make up for the stick up my ass. And hey, Slayer healing is wicked helpful for this sort of thing.”

Tara felt sick. 

Buffy… or her body, anyway… danced back into the crowd, and Tara grabbed Oz’s arm to steady herself. “That’s not Buffy,” she said faintly.

“Out of all the things you could have said,” Oz replied. “I was genuinely hoping that would be top of the list.”

Chapter Text

Spike had known something was off, when Faith grabbed Buffy’s hand and sent a flash over them both. It had been subtle, but it had been there— the dark-haired Slayer’s posture had shifted to one that was so familiar to him, and the blonde had been frantic, stiff, and knocked her opponent out with no hesitation.

The brunette had come to, briefly, while being loaded up on the gurney, and while Joyce and the other girl were talking to the police, Spike had to know.

“Buffy?” he said.

“Spike?” the girl on the gurney mumbled. “What’s—”

And that had settled it for him. He followed her to the hospital, where she was alert and screaming to be let go. The doctors drugged her and the police clapped her in handcuffs, and when Spike tried to intervene, his chip fired in protest, and he was arrested, too. And then their police car was hit by an armored vehicle belonging to the Watchers’ Council, and Spike and Buffy had woken up in the back of it.

“We should just dump him on the side of the road now,” one of them was grumbling from the front seat. 

“He’s seen too much,” came the reply. “Human or no, he’ll be shipped back to England with the girl.”

Buffy had figured a way to escape though, his clever girl. She’d snagged control of the vehicle and driven them both out of there like all the hounds of hell were after her… and when they’d arrived at Giles’, the gang was already assembled, already aware of what was going on, and the spell they needed to do to fix it. Angel was the one to eventually find Faith in Buffy’s body and drag her back to Giles’, and then run off again to ensure the Watcher wetworks team didn’t try to pursue.

And once the Slayers had switched back Buffy had held her head high, stood with crossed arms and a calm expression, telling Faith that her choices were to be turned over to the police… or she could go quietly with Angel back to L.A., and let him try to help her.

And Faith, outnumbered, trapped, and friendless, eventually agreed to go with Angel. After lots of screaming and insults first.

Spike could see Buffy start to splinter, as Wesley and Cordelia took Faith to the car. Buffy was shaking, touching her hip, and covering her mouth. 

“You need anything else from me?” Angel asked before heading out.

Buffy put her brave face back on. “No. Thanks for… taking her.”

Angel nodded, and frowned as he looked at Spike. “You couldn’t help Buffy because of that chip in your head.”

“Hey,” Spike scoffed. “I tried my bloody best —”

“Evil government organization,” Buffy said. “We’re working on taking it down.”

Angel nodded. “I, uh… I have a friend on the police force in L.A. She’s got a lot of connections, so if you need… like, legal help or something…”

“We’re good,” Buffy said. “Thanks.”

So Angel left. And the rest of Buffy’s lot immediately tried to ask their questions and fuss over Buffy, but Tara spoke up firmly, and said, “Tomorrow, guys. I’m gonna take them home for now.”

***

Spike knew Buffy had been holding on to her last shred of sanity by one frayed thread, but she waited to crumble, until she was back at his apartment, freshly showered, and standing in his bedroom wearing nothing but a towel.

Spike tried to smile at her. “Hey, pet,” he whispered. “Sorry, should have thought to bring you some—”

Buffy let the towel drop, and Spike froze. Staring at the blotch of ink on her hip, feeling like the entire world had gone red, and was pulsing before his eyes.

He’d fantasized about tearing Faith’s head off before? Was too good for her. She deserved… she ought to be tortured, slowly, agonizingly, for daring to put needles not just in Buffy’s mouth… but to stain her beautiful skin as well.

Buffy was sniffling, and she wandered to the bed, lying on her stomach so that Spike could get a better look at the tattoo.

He crawled up next to her, running hesitant, gentle fingers over it.

It was the letter F. Emblazoned in flame. Whether intended to cuss Buffy out, or just stamp her own initial on Buffy’s ass like it was her property… the insult was the same. The violation just as damaging.

“Oh, love,” Spike whispered, and bent to brush his lips to the mark.

Buffy burst into tears then, hugging her pillow tight, naked body scrunching into a ball. “I d-don’t understand,” she sobbed.

“I know, love… oh, darling, my Slayer… there is nothing to understand, sweetness, it was just plain evil.”

He curled his own body around hers, and even if she kept her arms to herself, she gratefully cuddled into him. “I gave… I gave her so many chances… I tried and tried to l-let her in… and I know I did wrong things to her, too. B-but… she’s someone of my line, Spike. And she did this to me. She raped me . She stole from me… she pierced me… she branded me… because she could. Because it was fun. Because she hates me so much.”

“She’s gone now, darling,” Spike soothed. “She can’t touch you. She can’t take you away… she can’t mark you in any way that matters. You’re still you, you always were. Better than her, you are… and you’ve bested her.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” she whispered. “Except…” She tilted her head, bringing her mouth up to his. He let his eyes fall shut, and let his tongue slip into her mouth, soothing the still fresh piercing inside, even if the jewelry itself had already been removed and discarded. 

“Except that I have you,” Buffy sniffled. “I never lost you, did I? You love me so sweetly, you who are supposed to hate me and kill me. And you… never left my side.”