destructo-girl.com

"Secrets & Lies "

Author: Lynx
Email: lmentus@rochester.rr.com
Notes: For my fellow couch-sitters, especially Chelle, who never stopped prodding. Bless your heart!

The group stared in surprise at Buffy's abrupt departure. Willow looked worriedly at Oz and he shook his head, murmuring "Later." He'd already decided to tell his girlfriend what he'd discovered, knowing that Willow wouldn't repeat what he told her. Buffy needed to talk to someone, that much was obvious from the strain that showed on her face. He just hoped that she wouldn't be too pissed off at him later on.

Willow wondered what it was that Oz knew. She was beyond worried now; Buffy had been so pale, with an almost frightened look on her face. What was going on? She had seemed fine earlier, a little distant, but then, she'd been that way for the last few weeks. Maybe she 'was' ill. But if that was all, then why did Oz look so disturbed?

Xander was daydreaming about the dance he'd shared with the Slayer. The way she'd moved, exciting him more than he'd ever thought possible. After the song had ended, he'd stood there in shock for a few minutes, before finally heading to the bathroom to 'cool off'. He hadn't run into her on the way. *That must have been when she was outside, slaying the vampire. I probably just missed her.*

He knew it was strange that even though he was dating a girl that most guys would kill for, he still lusted after Buffy. She was his untouchable dream, he supposed, which made him want her all the more. It didn't help matters that now that Deadboy was out of the picture for good, his fantasies had spun completely out of control. Fantasies that were going to get him in a lot of trouble, if he wasn't careful.

The DeSoto was speeding down I-17, headed for the beach...and privacy. It had become one of their favorite places- deserted after dark, with just the sound of the ocean resonating in the background. Spike had been eager to get the Slayer away from the Bronze, to take her somewhere that they could be alone. Normally, she would be chattering a mile a minute on the way down , but tonight, she was silent.

Spike had noticed the Slayer's distress right away, but she hadn't given him a clue as to what was bothering her. She just sat there, staring out the window, her fingers twisting in her lap. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and reached over to pull her close.

"What is it, luv? What's wrong?" He put his arm around her as she curled up at his side, letting his fingers slide through her hair.

Buffy took a deep breath. "Oz knows. He knows that I was with someone tonight."

Spike frowned. "Oz...is that the wolf?" *Bloody hell, she 'would' have to have a fucking werewolf for a friend.*

Buffy nodded and burrowed in closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. "He'll tell Willow...he doesn't like to keep things from her. He wouldn't know that it was you, would he? I mean, he doesn't necessarily know that I was with a vampire, right?" Her voice was high pitched with panic and she let out a shuddering sigh. "I'm scared, Spike."

Her admission shocked him. He'd never seen her exhibit fear, unless you counted Halloween, when she'd been caught in that spell. The other times that he'd tried to kill her, the times that Angelus had tormented her- she'd been in complete control. She'd knocked a bloody organ down on him, hadn't she? Not even when she'd faced Angelus and killed him, had she shown any signs of being frightened.

"Do you trust them, luv?"

"Yes, I trust them. It's just that after everything that happened with Angel, I don't know how they'll react. Willow's been spending so much time with Giles...what if she tells him?"

"Do you really think she will? Willow's your best friend, isn't she?"

"She is...and I don't think she'd tell him, but...you never know. Maybe she'd think it was the right thing to do. I lied to him...to all of them. I don't want them to hate me." Buffy slid down his chest until her head was in his lap. "I'm just so tired, Spike." Tears dripped onto his leg, wetting his jeans. "So very tired."

A pang of remorse ran through him as he considered what she'd been going through. Killing Angel. The two of them becoming involved. All of the late nights with little or no sleep at all. The strain of keeping their relationship hidden from everyone that she knew was taking its toll. *If you had any kind of honor at all, you'd walk away from her...let her have her life back.* He unconsciously shook his head at the thought. He wouldn't give her up- 'couldn't' give her up- no matter what. He'd die first.

Spike ran his hand through her hair in a continuous motion as he drove, lulling her to sleep. He wondered how she'd managed to steal his undead heart in such a short time. How she'd managed to tame his demon when no one else could. As she drifted off, Buffy just barely heard him as he said, "It'll be all right, baby. I'll take care of everything...somehow..."

Oz was silent as he drove Willow home, wondering what to tell her about Buffy. How did he tell someone like Willow that her best friend had been having sex in a public place? And that that was the least of it? One of his reasons for remaining taciturn was that opening your mouth usually got you into trouble. But he could tell that Buffy was close to the edge, and maybe they could help.

Willow waited for Oz to say something- anything- the entire ride home. Finally, when he pulled up to her house, she turned to him. "Well? Are you planning to tell me what's going on?"

Her penetrating stare made him squirm for a moment as he continued to debate with himself.

"Oz? I want to know what's wrong with Buffy and I want to know now."

Oz ran his hand through his hair. *Shit! Resolve face.* There was no way out, so he just said it. "Buffy had sex with someone at the Bronze." He glanced up and caught the stunned look on her face.

"Buffy wouldn't do that, she's not that kind of person."

It was said as a statement of fact, but he could hear the underlying doubt in her voice. Oz sighed. "Buffy did do that, Willow. It's almost full moon...I could smell it."

Willow blushed and said vehemently, "Well, you're wrong! You just misinterpreted whatever it was you smelled."

"I didn't misinterpret anything. The wolf recognized it, there's no mistaking that scent." After her reaction, he dreaded saying the rest of it. "There's more." She looked up at him questioningly. "The person that Buffy was with...wasn't...human." He took a deep breath. "He was a vampire."

"How do you- "

"I could smell blood, and a vampire's scent is different than a human's. I can't describe it, but it's hard to miss."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I'm sure."

"Blood...she let him 'feed' from her?" Willow shook her head as the implications sunk in. *No, no, no, no, no...* This wasn't happening again. Buffy couldn't be involved with another vampire...it wasn't possible. Not after Angelus...and what happened to Jenny. Her voice was high and thin as she asked, "But, who? How-?" An image came to her- of Spike on top of Buffy, the look in the Slayer's eyes after the fight- and suddenly, like the final puzzle piece clicking into place, everything became clear. Spike. "God, how could I have been so stupid?" she wailed.

Oz looked at her in surprise. "What?"

"The fight with Spike, the way she keeps brushing off Giles whenever he's mentioned. Oh my god, that day in her room! She had the windows covered...and the room smelled...strange...musky." She blushed again as she realized what they'd been doing, and that Spike had been probably still been in the room, hiding in the closet. No wonder Buffy had wanted her out of there in a hurry. "Spike, it's gotta be Spike. It couldn't be anyone else."

"The question is why? I mean, Angel had a soul, but Spike..."

Willow interrupted him. "The research! That's why Buffy wants to know if vampires keep their souls. It doesn't have anything to do with Angel at all." Everything made sense now and every aspect of Buffy's behavior could finally be explained. The mood swings, the way she always looked on the verge of exhaustion. Her obsession with the soul research.

"So, what do we do about it?" Oz asked, relieved to see that Willow had calmed down after her initial shock.

"We do nothing, or at least, we don't tell anyone. I'll talk to Buffy tomorrow and find out exactly what's going on between her and Spike. No one else can know about this. Giles...I have no idea how he'd react. He's still trying to deal with Jenny's death, and anyway...it's not our place to tell him. It's Buffy's."

It went without saying that they had to keep this from Xander. He just wasn't rational where Buffy was concerned and considering how much he'd hated Angel- well, there was no telling what he'd do if he found out about Spike. No, it would have to stay between the two of them. There was nothing else they
could do.

Oz pulled Willow close and held her, thinking how lucky he was that they didn't have to hide, like Buffy and Spike. Buffy looked like she was close to a breakdown, and he'd never want to put Willow through anything like that. No, he was very fortunate that being a werewolf hadn't changed anyone's
opinion of him. Very fortunate.

They kissed and said goodnight, both of them deep in thought as they wondered what would happen in the days to follow. And if anyone would be left standing when the shit hit the fan.

Buffy started as the phone rang, looking at it apprehensively before picking it up.

"Hello?"

"Buffy, it's Willow. We need to talk, I'll be over in a few minutes."

Buffy sighed. "Okay, Willow. I'll see you in a little while." She hung up the phone and walked over to the mirror, staring at her reflection.

She had lost weight in the past few weeks, and there were hollows under her eyes from lack of sleep. She didn't feel well- most likely she was getting sick due to the abuse her body had suffered lately. Her Slayer strength was probably the only reason why she hadn't landed in the hospital suffering from exhaustion. Her mother had given her a speech yesterday about the virtues of healthy eating and getting plenty of rest. Buffy let out a harsh laugh. *If she only knew just how little rest her daughter actually gets.* Picking up her brush, she turned her attention to the impending confrontation with Willow.

Oz had obviously told her. Buffy wondered how much she really knew, if she had any idea who Buffy had been with. If she knew that it was Spike. A flush spread across her face as she thought about how what they'd done in the Bronze. It had been so good to be with him again, to feel him inside her where he belonged...just to feel him, period.

After they'd parked at the beach, Spike had just let her sleep, holding her until there were only a couple of hours of darkness left. Then, he'd awakened her and they had made love, with her straddling him in the back seat while his lips roamed over her skin. Moving slowly, so slowly...their undulating bodies mimicking the waves crashing on the shore. Buffy shivered at the memory, wondering if Willow could ever understand the way it was between them. The way they fit together so perfectly.

Just as she finished brushing her hair, the doorbell rang. Buffy took her time answering it, trying to delay the inevitable. When the door swung open, the two girls just stared at each other until finally, Willow spoke. "Hi," she said, softly.

"Hi." Buffy gestured for her to come in. "Let's go up to my room, in case Mom comes home."

They went upstairs and settled themselves on the bed in awkward silence. The two of them sat there for a moment, eyes wandering around the room, wondering how to start, when finally, they turned to each other.

"Buf-"

"Will-" They both began speaking at the same time. Buffy motioned for Willow to go first.

"I guess by now you've figured out why I'm here. Oz told me about you...that you were having...well, you know...in the Bronze." Willow took a deep breath and plunged in. "Just tell me the truth. Is it Spike?"

Buffy stared at the hacker in shock. *Over, it's all over. What's gonna happen now?* All of the air went out of her as she answered, "Yes, it's Spike."

Willow nodded as her suspicion was confirmed. Buffy continued staring at her numbly. "How did you know?" she asked, her voice sounding defeated as she looked down at the bedspread.

"Oz could...tell...that he wasn't human. And I said, 'but Buffy wouldn't do that'...and Oz said that you 'did' too do that...and then...all I could think of was that fight you two had a month ago. The way you didn't seem to care that Spike had bitten you. The way you enjoyed it so much..." Her voice trailed off as she stared at the Slayer's bent head. "It just made sense, that it was him." She looked away for a minute, then back at Buffy. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought I was your best friend."

Buffy's head shot up. "You 'are' my best friend! I just...I didn't think..." She sighed. "After everything with Angel, how could I tell you? It just happened, I couldn't believe it myself, at first."

"How? How does something like that just happen?"

"It's a long story..." Buffy began telling Willow about her deal with Spike, about killing Angel. About their subsequent meetings, and how they couldn't seem to stay away from each other. About the rose in her locker, signifying Spike's tender, romantic side. She told Willow everything, only leaving out the more intimate details.

When she was finished, the redhead was silent. Finally, she looked up at Buffy and asked, "Do you love him?"

Buffy nodded. "Yes." She gave a short, humorlous laugh. "What are the odds? I'm a Slayer and I fall in love with not one, but two vampires. It's different with Spike, though. I never felt like I needed Angel the way I need Spike. When we're together, everything feels right. When we're not...it hurts to be apart. It's like an ache in the middle of my chest." Buffy looked down again as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

"Willow? What are you gonna do? Are you going to tell Giles?"

Willow sighed. "No, I won't tell. But I think that you should."

Buffy looked at her, panic stricken. "I can't! Not yet, not until I find out..."

"You want to be sure that Spike has a soul."

"I am sure of it. I just need proof." Buffy got up and began to pace around the room. "Do you think that Anne's journal will tell us anything?"

"I don't know. The translation is going a lot faster, now that we're used to the language. We'll keep looking in other places, though." Willow was thoughtful for a moment. "Buffy? What if we don't find anything? What if there's no proof?"

"Then I'll just have to deal. It doesn't change who he is- it doesn't change the fact that I love him. 'I' can feel his soul...that's all that matters." Buffy looked at her beseechingly. "You know that I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, right? After what happened with Angel...if I thought that Spike was dangerous..."

*You didn't think that Angel was dangerous either, and look what happened.* Willow felt bad for even thinking the words, but then again, Buffy wasn't the one that Angelus had tried to kill. No, he'd only been interested in stalking Buffy, in taunting her by threatening her friends. Willow didn't think that she'd ever forget the feeling of his hands around her throat. Still, Buffy believed that Spike wouldn't hurt them, and as her friend, Willow had to trust her. "I know that you'd never willingly put us in danger again. And Oz and I won't tell anyone...he didn't even want to tell me, but he was worried about you." She studied the Slayer's haggard face. "At least now I know why you've been acting so strange lately. Are you getting any sleep at all?"

"Some. When I do sleep though, I have these weird dreams. In French."

"Buffy, you don't speak French, you totally suck in French."

"Willow!" Buffy tried to look indignant and failed. She sighed. "You're right, j'e stink. That's what's so weird. How can I understand what's being said in my dreams? It's like I'm me, but I'm not. And there's a man. Sometimes I think it's Spike, but he doesn't look anything like him." She sat back down on the bed. "Some of the dreams are scary. Like something bad is going to happen and I can't stop it."

"Big evil bad?"

"Not really. Not end of the world bad, like the Master rising and the Hellmouth opening." Buffy's eyes were dark as she stared at the redhead. "It feels more personal, like I'm going to lose everything that matters to me." Buffy grabbed Willow's hand. "I can't lose Spike, not now, not so soon after Angel! There has to be a way to stop whatever it is..."

Willow didn't know what to say. "Do you know for sure if they're prophecy dreams?"

The Slayer shook her head. "I can't help thinking that they have something to do with the journals. That day, when I touched Anne's...Willow, how much longer until you're finished translating?"

"I don't know. A couple of weeks, maybe...if we work night and day. Not that Giles would complain. He's hardly been able to tear himself away from them."

"Try to find out as much as you can, as fast as you can. I just wish that I could help, somehow." Buffy could feel some of the weight lift off of her, now that Willow knew everything. She didn't feel so alone. "I'm glad that you found out about Spike. I didn't like keeping it from you."

"I can understand, I guess. Not how you fell in love with him- I don't think I'll ever understand that- but I know why you kept it a secret." They both smiled then, feeling close again for the first time in weeks. "Wanna come hang at the library while I work on the journals? I'm sure that Giles is anxious for you to start pounding on him again. All of his bruises are healed from the last time."

Buffy brightened at the prospect of whupping Giles' ass. "Training girl, that's me. Just let me grab some workout clothes." In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that Willow spoke about Giles in a very familiar way. *Well, they 'have' been working together a lot. She probably sees more of him than of anyone else.* Shrugging it off, Buffy retrieved her clothes and they set out for the library, talking easily once more, like the best friends that they were.

>From the Journal of Anne LeMaire

19 October, 1433

Tonight, I killed my first vampire. Oncle Lucien said that it was time for me to face what my duty entails should I ever be called. Monsieur d'Arras- the butcher- had been found three nights ago, drained of blood. We settled by his grave and waited for his undead form to rise. It did not take long.

I shall never forget the sight of him- clawing his way out of the earth, mad with hunger and bloodlust. Oncle said that when a vampire first rises, there is just an animal, incapable of speech because of the ravening thirst for blood. Monsieur d'Arras looked like what he was- a demon- with his grotesque face and yellow eyes. And his teeth! Sharp fangs jutting out of his mouth, snapping together in anticipation of feeding.

I remember pausing, trying to see the man that I knew beneath the face of the monster. It was almost my undoing. The creature -I cannot think of him as anything else- took advantage of my hesitation and grabbed my leg, pulling me to the ground. He was on me in an instant, his fetid stench in my face as he moved in for the kill. I did the only thing that I could, slamming my head into his and shoving his body from me. He was so strong- I have never felt anything like it. No amount of training can fully prepare you for that first encounter with the undead.

I fought with everything that I had, relying on all that I have learned thus far. The fight seemed to last forever, nearly draining me of my strength. Finally, I managed to trip him and drive my stake through his heart. He turned to dust almost instantly and I fell to the ground, sobbing with relief.

As I lay there, my only thought was that I had never felt such fear...or such exhilaration. It is sinful, I know, to feel pride. But oh, the power that rushed through my veins! It was incredible- so satisfying- like nothing on this earth.

Oncle Lucien came to me and said that he had never seen such carelessness, that I had ignored all of my lessons, ignored everything that I had been taught. Anger swept through me and I had to lower my head so that he would not see the defiance in my eyes. How dare he! He was not the one who had almost been killed by that monster! He was not the one who had to feel the weight of it on top of him, who had to breathe in the stench of pure evil. He had not been the one to stare into the eyes of death.

He will sit with his books and his theories, and it is quite possible that he will never face any of the terrors that I will encounter. It is almost certain that he will never get blood on his hands, unless it is my own. He will never know the burden of being the Chosen One.

As he read Anne's words, Giles wondered if Buffy felt the same way toward him. Angry and resentful because he wasn't on the front lines fighting along side her. He wouldn't blame her for hating him at times; he knew that he often felt self-loathing when sending her off alone to battle the forces of darkness.

He looked over at Buffy, who was sitting across the room with Willow, talking quietly. His eyes softened as he gazed at the two girls, their red and gold heads bent together conspiratorially. *Now, what could those two be talking about, then?* Boys? Well, maybe in Willow's case, but as far as he knew, there had been no one else for the Slayer since Angel. Although with her recent behavior, he supposed that anything was possible.

When Buffy had arrived at the library with Willow two days ago, Giles had been pleasantly surprised to see that the tension that had been so apparent lately had been missing. The Slayer had been happy and relaxed, and the training session had gone better than he'd expected. There were still shadows under her eyes, however, and she'd mentioned feeling under the weather. No matter- the old Buffy appeared to be back, and he surmised that her good health would also return soon enough.

Giles turned back to the journals and continued reading about Anne's thirteenth year, eager to learn more about the young girl and her experiences as a Slayer.

Trapped. He was trapped by the sun every fucking day of his unlife. He wanted to walk outside and feel its warmth on his cold skin, to see the Slayer bathed in its golden light. He wanted...he wanted...FUCK! He always wanted what he couldn't have.

The minions were being secretive, whispering when they thought he wasn't paying attention, breaking off their conversations when he entered the room. Christ, why was he still fucking here? What did he hope to accomplish by staying? *Staying in control, you stupid sod...that's what you hope to accomplish.* They were going to turn on him, if he wasn't careful. He could feel the unrest brewing even now.

And to top it all off, the redhead and the wolf knew about them. The Slayer had said that they wouldn't tell- that the redhead had promised- but bloody hell, what if she was wrong? What would happen to them...to her? Was there some sort of punishment for Slayers who consorted with the undead? Yeah, she'd been involved with Angel, but the wanker didn't count, did he? He was a fucking 'goody-two-shoes', fighting against the evil horde like some sodding superhero. What would they do to her if it came out that she was shagging almost nightly with the un-souled?

He'd told her that he would take care of everything. Yeah, right. Lot of fucking help 'he' was...he couldn't even take care of things here at the mansion. What 'could' he do anyway? Short of killing the wolf and the girl. *Don't think that'd go over too well, mate. No snacking on the friends, remember?*

He was useless in that area anyway- couldn't fucking remember the last time he'd killed anyone. Worse than bloody Soul Boy, he was. All because of one tiny girl. One tiny, golden, delicious girl who never left his thoughts for one bleedin' second. Who'd done the unthinkable, and made him feel human for the first time in nearly two hundred years.

>From the Journal of Anne LeMaire

23 August, 1434

It has happened. I have been called and now it is my turn. My turn to face unspeakable evil night after night. I am terrified, and yet...there is an undeniable feeling of excitement. The few vampires that I have faced this past year will be nothing compared to what will come, and it gives me pleasure to know that I will be fighting as Jehanne did, for the good of mankind.

Oncle says that I must train ever harder, for the safety of all rests upon my shoulders. Do I want such a responsibility? Is it fair to ask one girl to carry such a burden? But I have no choice, and truthfully, I do enjoy the fighting. There is nothing like vanquishing an enemy, nothing like defeating true evil again and again.

The next few days found Willow and Giles working tirelessly on the journals, with Buffy often hovering in the background. The three of them had found an easy camaraderie again and despite still suffering from lack of sleep, Buffy almost felt like her old self. Oz, Xander, and Cordelia stopped by frequently to keep up on other research, bringing a steady supply of snacks with them. Things were back to normal. What passed for normal on the Hellmouth, anyway.

Anne's experiences struck a chord with the Slayer, bringing back memories of her first days after being called. She understood completely the conflicting feelings that the girl described. There were times when she hated being the Slayer, with every fiber of her being. And then there were times when it was so much a part of her that she couldn't imagine being anything else.

Spike was one of the reasons she sometimes hated slaying, especially since she was becoming more convinced with each passing day that he had a soul. And if he had a soul, then it was likely that others did also, possibly all of them. *Well, humans have souls and they commit horrible crimes every day. Evil is evil and should be punished, right?* Vampires still preyed on humans, still killed when they fed. Soul or not, she had to stop them. All of them except Spike, damn it.

Willow had asked how she felt about Spike feeding. It was a valid question, and one that she wasn't quite sure how to answer. It made her angry, especially in the first few days of their relationship, when she was positive that he was draining his victims. More than angry- furious at being helpless to stop him. No, not helpless. Unwilling. She had pretended not to notice his flushed cheeks and beating heart. His hyper mood and glassy eyes. Pretended that she hadn't let someone die.

For the past month though, things were different. There had been fewer bodies and no real trail leading to Spike. She was willing to bet that he hadn't killed in weeks. He would never tell her himself, but she knew. She also knew that this change in his feeding pattern bothered him, as if he felt like less of a vampire. Eventually, she'd have to tell him of her suspicions regarding his soul. Somehow, she didn't think that he was going to be thrilled by the news. 'If' he even believed her.

>From the Diary of Lucien Aubry

18 November, 1434

Anne has surpassed my wildest expectations as a Slayer. Her fighting skills are among the best that I have ever seen and she has the uncanny ability to outwit even the most formidable of opponents. I have seen her prevail against unbeatable odds, time and time again.

She has also blossomed into the beauty that I predicted so long ago. Honey colored hair and eyes of the clearest blue- like the sky in summer. A smile so sweet that it could coax an angel down from heaven. Marie-Therese is heartbroken that she cannot betrothe her little one. The young men try to pursue Anne, but my Slayer just sends them on their way without a second thought. I am so relieved that she does not question my judgement in this. A Slayer cannot afford to be distracted by matters of the heart.

"Spike..." The Slayer's breathy sigh could barely be heard as the two figures writhed together on the bed. Pale white skin against sun-kissed gold, glistening with sweat in the moonlight that shone through the window of her room. Her mother was gone again and they had been joined together for what seemed like hours- prolonging their pleasure, delaying their release- until the intensity of their passion nearly ignited the air.

"Slayer...love..." *MY Slayer...MY love...everywhere...she's everywhere...* A low, rumbling growl joining the higher pitched cries, his mouth wet against her neck. *Deep, so deep- Christ, I'm burning- so very hot...*

Her hands in his hair, urging him to move faster, thrust harder- *Lost, I'm lost...I can't...there's only him...nothing else...*

"Please...Spike...I want...I want..." Building, building- how could anything climb this high? So intense- fire, ice, heat, cold, soft, hard- feeling him pressing against her upper wall- shaking, shuddering, "Now, Spike...now, now, now..." Head thrashing on the pillow, his hands everywhere- *Need...I need...oh god...too much...*

Slipping and sliding...so slick, so wet...so warm. His tongue tracing the vein in her throat, feeling the blood rush to the surface as if he'd called it. *Just a taste...just...* Warm, coppery, sweet...lights going off inside his head- *Christ!...touch...feel...taste...lights...the lights...exploding...I'm...*

"BUFFFYYYY!!!!!!!!" Screaming...blood screaming to work its will...the Slayer screaming his name...screaming her pleasure, tightening around him like a vise.

*YESSS...NOOO...God, I can't stop...it's too...*

"SPIIIIIKKKE!!!!!" Swelling...throbbing...*He's coming, oh it feels so good...don't stop...never stop...I love you...Spike...* Vibrating, like a live wire, on and on, gasping for air, her heart pounding relentlessly in her chest. His cool tongue lapping at her throat, soothing...both of their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

Singing...her blood was singing in his veins...so sweet...making his dead heart thump with renewed life. Spike rolled, bringing her above him, wrapping his arms around her possessively. *I'll never let you go...never...*

Buffy looked into the twilight blue of his eyes and she could hear him inside her head, feel him in every pore of her skin as she answered, *I don't want you to, ever...*

Their thoughts mingling as one...*Tu es le mien...tu es tout a moi...you're mine...you're everything to me...*

Her breath coming in gasps, Buffy gazed down at him in wonder. "Spike, did you...did you feel that?"

"I did, love." He brought her head down for a lingering kiss. "Could feel 'you'...inside my head...inside 'me'," he murmured against her lips. "Your blood...you even tasted different."

She pulled back and looked at him. "I did? Different, how?"

Spike rolled them again until she was lying half under him. "I don't know, luv...just...different," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Sweeter, maybe?" His lips grazed just under her ear. "Didn't think it was possible for you to taste any more delicious...so good...you tasted so bloody good...like nothing else..."

Buffy gave a sigh of contentment, letting her fingers dance over his shoulder and down across his chest. "I could hear you...how did we do that?" She shivered as he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. "What do you think it means?"

"I have no idea, pet." It was the Watcher's job to analyze things. Spike didn't give a flying fuck about the whys and wherefores- all that mattered was how it felt. "I only know that I'm not letting you out of this bed until your mum comes back on Sunday."

It sounded wonderful to her, but- "Sunday...it doesn't seem far enough away, does it?" she asked, wistfully.

"No, baby, it doesn't," he replied, kissing her. Already dreading her mum's return. *Don't think about it, mate. Just think about how you're going to spend the next twenty-four hours...in heaven.* His own private heaven...the only kind that would accept a demon like him.

>From the Journal of Anne LeMaire

6 March, 1435

I killed seven vampires tonight- SEVEN! I am exhausted, but I feel wonderful. When the local clan hears of this, the rest of the vampires will think again before hunting in my city. I purposely let one of them go free, so that word would reach the ear of the current Master, Guillaume. I have not met him, but I have made certain to obtain information from my victims before I dispatched them.

He has not been in the city long, but he is not a stranger to this region. The vampires that I questioned said that he followed Jehanne's army for a time, spying against the Burgundians for her, and that he was in Rouen during her execution. I find it difficult to believe that a demon would aid a servant of God. It is most likely that he only followed the army in order to feed like a scavenger on the bodies of the wounded, as is the wont of most creatures of the night.

I am certain that he is as hideous as the rest. Most of them never bother to hide behind their human facades and it only makes my desire to kill them even stronger. Oncle Lucien says that the Council is quite pleased with my efforts. The Council. They are always so mysterious, and quite truthfully, they frighten me. ME, the Slayer, who fears little! Perhaps it is because they hold so much power over us- telling us nothing, letting us go blindly into battle time and time again.

Oncle reveals little of his dealings with them, only saying that I should not concern myself with such matters. How he angers me sometimes, with his overbearing manner. Tante Marie-Therese pays no attention to matters concerning my slaying. She pretends that we are like any other family and I know that she would like nothing more than to see me betrothed. She does not understand that I have no time for such foolishness. And the boys who come sniffing around are just that...boys. I would not marry them even if my duties did not prevent it.

Giles looked up from his work and gave an exasperated sigh. "Where is Buffy? Willow, haven't you heard from her?" He had tried earlier and had only gotten that blasted answering machine.

She needed to train and he needed to inform her about a possible ghoul sighting. Ghouls were nasty creatures whose eating habits tended to escalate from merely raiding fresh graves to seeking out live victims. Buffy couldn't afford to shirk her duty at a time like this. "Would you try to phone her again, please?"

"Sure." Willow sighed and went into Giles' office, shutting the door behind her. She knew why he hadn't been able to reach the Slayer and the last thing she wanted to do was interrupt whatever it was they were doing. Quickly dialing the phone, she tried not to imagine the scene in Buffy's bedroom.

The machine answered, just as she knew it would. "C'mon Buffy, pick up, I know you're there," she hissed into the receiver. She was about to hang up when she heard a breathless, "Hello? Willow?"

In the background she heard a male voice whining, "Bloody hell, Slayer...I told you not to answer!"

Buffy laughed. "Shut up, Spike! This will only take a minute." More giggling and then, "Sorry Will, what's up?"

"I am," Willow heard in the background again, low and husky, closer to the receiver. *ICK!* she thought, wondering why she was stuck doing this.

Buffy gave a tiny gasp and then moaned. "Spike, behave! Let me talk to Willow." She heard a grumbling answer that sounded suspiciously like an obscenity. "I'm sorry, Will. You were trying to say?"

"Buffy, Giles is all wiggy 'cos you're not here. What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Tell him I'm resting. He said I looked tired yesterday, so he'll just think that I'm catching up on my sleep." Definite snickering in the background.

*Why me?* "Buffy, you know that resting is 'not' what you're doing over there. And I'm not sure it's healthy to be doing so much of- well, whatever it is you're doing. It can't be good for you." She knew she sounded like a prude, but right now she didn't care.

The Slayer's laughter rang out over the line. "Don't worry, Willow. It's 'very' good for me." She gave a squeal. "It's...uh...great...exercise...and...it does...wonders...for the...complexion."

Willow closed her eyes and began listing chemistry tables to try to block the images from her head. "Buffy-"

"Just...tell him...I'll be in...tomorrow. Whatever...it is...can wait...'til then. Bye!" A rumbling chuckle and then the line went dead. Willow stared in disbelief at the phone. *She knows I can't lie, why is she making me do this?* She hung up the phone and nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. *Why did I have to find out about them? Why couldn't I just live in blissful ignorance?*

Muttering a couple of un-Willow like words under her breath, she headed for the main room, trying to prepare herself for lying to Giles with a straight face.

"You're so bad," Buffy said, gasping as she hung up the phone. *So good...Oh god, there...yes...there...*

Spike raised his head from between her legs and grinned. "But you love me anyway." He planted soft kisses along her thigh. "Don't you?"

"Yeesss." She gave a small cry of frustration. "Tell me again why?" she murmured, as her hands twisted in his short hair, trying to force him back to her aching center. His tongue dipped and swirled against her flesh, traveling up her body, instead of down. Over her ribcage, around the curve of her breast, hovering over one erect nipple.

"Because..." Lick. "I have..." Suck. "the biggest..." Bite. "co- "

Buffy yanked his head up and kissed him fiercely, flipping them both over so that she straddled his stomach. Spike groaned as her wet pussy came in contact with his skin. *I should know better than to tease the wench. Now I'm bloody well done for.* He met her smoldering gaze with one of his own and his cock twitched in anticipation of her revenge.

Soft kisses rained down across his chest- light as a feather's touch, sending tingles down his spine. A warm tongue circled his nipple, turning his moan into a gasp as her teeth bit down sharply. She repeated the action on the other side, contrasting the delicious feeling of her tongue with the painful one of her teeth, until he was writhing helplessly beneath her.

"It wasn't nice of you to embarrass Willow like that..." Another bite, this time at the base of his throat. "Maybe you should be punished..."

He ran his hands up the length of her body. "Maybe I should...ah...bloody hell, Slayer! Bite a little harder, why don't you?" An answering tug on his earlobe almost made him squeal. "Tongue lashing...I...need...a good..." He felt her laugh softly against his neck and then she shifted, rubbing her wetness along the length of his throbbing hard-on. *Oh fuck...just like that, Slayer...yeah...so wet...*

"Did you say tongue lashing?" she murmured, letting her mouth drift back down over his chest, her tongue flicking intermittently at the muscles jumping under the skin. Buffy let her fingers dance along the ticklish spot above his hip, giggling as he squirmed and growled. She loved him like this- aroused and playful- completely at her mercy. Sliding down between his legs, she caught his gaze and held it as she licked the head of his cock, lightly sucking the fluid from the tip.

Spike's head flew back and his body arched as her tongue ran itself under the ridge and down his shaft. She teased the veins that throbbed and pulsed, one hand cupping his heavy sac, lightly squeezing him, while the other tangled in his pubic hair.

"Slayer...take me in your mouth, love...please..." He was whining and pleading and he hated it, but- *Sweet, bloody Christ*- she always knew just how to get him to beg. He'd never begged for anything in his life- undead or otherwise- until he'd met her.

Buffy nipped at him lightly before easing her lips down over his rock hard member. "Mmmmm..." She let him slide all the way into her mouth and back out again. "I love the way you taste..." She took him in her mouth again and felt him pulsate once, releasing a small amount of semen. Smiling around him, she began bobbing her head up and down in a steady rhythm while her tongue continued rubbing against the length of his shaft.

Spike had the sheets in a deathgrip as he bucked wildly into her mouth. She took him deep into her throat several times, pulling all the way back and sinking down on him slowly. Her fingers stroked and scratched at his thighs, then lightly rubbed at the spot beneath his sac, driving him out of his mind with her teasing. She let her hands slide up to grip him at the base of his cock, pumping as her mouth engulfed him. *So warm, so very fucking warm, so close...I'm...*

"...Coming, fuck, love, don't stop, don't stop..." he babbled, exploding suddenly as her tongue pressed against the sensitive spot just under his opening. He pulsed again and again, flooding her mouth with his seed.

Buffy continued sucking as she swallowed, running her tongue over him one last time before letting him slip from her mouth. She kissed her way up his stomach and over his chest until she reached his mouth, then ran her tongue across his lower lip. Spike slid his hand through her hair and pulled her head down for a bruising kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth as his other hand wrapped around her waist. He flipped her onto her back, and stared down into her flushed face.

"If that was punishment, pet, I'll have to misbehave more often." He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "You're fucking incredible, Slayer." His hand drifted down to her breast, fingers tracing its curve before lightly rubbing her nipple with his thumb. She arched and moaned, pressing herself against him as he brushed his lips over her throat, teasing with his tongue.

"Spike..."

"As I recall, you weren't very nice to Willow either, hanging up on her and all." His lips traveled over her collarbone and lower, stopping to tug on her pert nipples. She gasped as he bit her gently, then sucked one tender nub into his mouth. Spike grinned up at her. "I think a good tongue lashing is in order for you as well, love..."

Willow somehow managed to lie to Giles without repercussion and settled herself at the table once again with Anne's journal. It wasn't long before she came to the entries that finally revealed Anne's secret.

>From the Journal of Anne LeMaire

20 March, 1435

I have finally come face to face with the Master, Guillaume. I encountered him while out hunting, just outside the city walls. To my surprise, he was alone, and there were no signs of any minions lurking about.

He wore his human face. I was unprepared for- he was- I have never seen a more handsome man. No, he is not a man. But how can a such a creature be so beautiful? Not overly tall, with dark wavy hair and eyes of the deepest blue. Perfectly formed lips, slightly full on the bottom, and impossibly high cheekbones. He moved as a cat does- graceful and arrogant- like a panther from one of Oncle's books.

We greeted each other the way adversaries do- cautious, wary- circling as we took each other's measure. He said that he would have me begging him for my life and I laughed. I told him that it was not my nature and that it would be a painful end for him. I told him that he should have chosen another city in which to rule. He replied that such a young girl was not much of a threat to him. And then, we fought.

I have never encountered such a fighter as he- so quick, so strong- able to parry every blow that I render. He is my match in both strength and skill. We fought long and hard, throwing taunts and ripostes with every attack. Every time I tried to impale him, he managed to disarm me. He somehow cornered me, and it was only through superhuman effort that I was able to draw my last stake and point it at his chest. Guillaume quickly backed away, ending the fight before either of us could succeed in killing the other. He said that he would see me again, of which I have no doubt.

I am not sure if I should tell Oncle Lucien about this. He will only criticize me for not staking the Master when I had the chance. No, I shall keep this to myself for now. There will be time enough for telling Oncle later, when I send Guillaume to hell, where he belongs.

2 April, 1435

I have encountered Guillaume several times now, always alone and outside the city walls. Each time is the same- we exchange unpleasantries and then fight- always to a draw. I do not know why, but neither of us seems able to kill the other.

I am not sure that I should admit this, but... I enjoy fighting with him. I feel so alive, so full of fire when I am with him. No other vampire challenges me as he does, and his mind is as quick as his fists. I do believe that he enjoys our banter as well, and that he finds me a worthy opponent in battle.

I still have not told Oncle that I have met Guillaume.

10 April, 1435

I do not know what to do. Something happened tonight- something wonderful...and awful.

I met Guillaume, as usual, and we began to fight. I could tell that he had just fed and it angered me, making me fight all the harder. Guillaume fought back just as hard, with an intensity in his eyes that I had not seen before. Suddenly, his arms were around me and his lips were on mine- fierce, demanding- a kiss like no other, cold and hot at the same time. I have been kissed before- Louis and Jacques both made fumbling attempts before I pushed them away- but never have I felt anything like this. Never have I felt such passion.

We both pulled away and just stared at each other in stunned disbelief. We are sworn enemies, how could there be desire between us? I turned and ran before he could say anything. What am I to do? What will happen when we see each other again? I am afraid of what I am feeling. I do not want to feel this- this desire for my adversary. I cannot feel this way, it is forbidden.

17 April, 1435

It is no use. I cannot stop thinking about him, remembering the feeling of his mouth on mine. I must go to him, find out if he is feeling this, too. Am I insane? He is a vampire, undead. A monster. That is what I tell myself, but my heart will not listen. It beats faster at just the thought of him. I shall tell him that he must leave Rouen. It is the only answer.

20 April, 1435

I am lost, my soul forever damned.

I went to Guillaume, to try to convince him to leave. I thought that he would agree with me, for our only other solution is to kill one another, and neither of us seems able to do that. He said that he would not leave, he could not leave, and then...he kissed me again.

It was even more passionate than the first, and God help me, I returned his kiss shamelessly. I tried to tell myself that it was wrong, but it felt so wonderful. Before I knew what was happening, he had lowered me to the ground and removed my clothes. I could not refuse, it was as if I had no will.

He kissed me everywhere, touched me everywhere, until my body was aching with need. And when he entered me, it was the sweetest pain that I have ever felt. He moved within me, pleasure mingling with the pain, and I wantonly began to meet his thrusts with my own. He sank his fangs into my throat and I could feel him flowing inside me, could feel him touch my soul with his essence. I trembled and cried at the rapture of it, fearful that I was dying as my heart pounded so.

Afterward, Guillaume held me and licked at the wound on my neck. He said that I belonged to him now, that nothing would take me from him. What have I done? How could I have fallen in love with a demon? How is a demon able to love me? Have I forsaken all that I am by loving him?

Willow hit the save button and quickly printed out the newly translated entries. She stared at them again, her heart pounding as she called out, "Giles!"

He looked up at the urgency in her voice. "What is it?"

She handed him the printout. "Anne was in love with a vampire. The Master of Rouen."

His startled gaze met hers. "What?" He quickly began scanning the pages.

"It's all right there. His name was Guillaume. Giles, this could be what we've been looking for."

Giles nodded absently as he continued reading. "A Slayer and a vampire...the parallel between Angel and Buffy."

Willow said nothing. The name Guillaume kept repeating itself over and over in her mind. *Guillaume...William...William the Bloody...Spike. Is Guillaume the man in Buffy's dreams? Is Buffy dreaming about Anne's life?* She wanted more than anything to tell Giles, to let him know about Buffy's dreams, but she'd given her word that she wouldn't. Suddenly, she realized that Giles had been speaking.

"Keep translating, see how far you can get tonight. I'd like to have more information before Buffy comes in tomorrow."

Willow nodded. "I'll get back to work. I'm anxious to find out what happened to them." She hurried back to the journal and began trying to unravel the mystery of Anne and Guillaume's relationship.

29 April, 1435

Guillaume and I have been meeting nearly every night- in stables, in the woods, anywhere that we can be alone. He must be careful that his followers do not find out about us. He cannot afford to lose control over them. Many of them are fledglings and would freely give in to the bloodlust, killing all in their path. He has a hold over them that prevents them from taking too many victims.

I have learned so much about him in such a short time. He did follow Jehanne's army, and he also spied for her under cover of the night. He said that being a vampire did not prevent him from being loyal to the Dauphin, nor did it prevent him from wanting what was best for his country. There is a nobility in him, a sense of honor that I would not have thought possible in his kind.

6 May, 1435

I am fearful every day that Oncle Lucien or Tante Marie-Therese will take notice that something has changed. I have often wondered if I am somehow different, now that I am no longer a maiden...no longer pure. I still continue to slay the undead and other demons who dare to enter Rouen. Guillaume and I do not speak of it, just as we do not speak of his need to drink blood. We spend most of our time together making love, and talking of experiences that have nothing to do with being Slayer and vampire.

He is a tender lover and yet, there are times when we make love so fiercely, as if we are afraid it will be the last time. I know that I should feel shame for consorting with my enemy, but I do not. He is not a monster like the rest.

I have begun to wonder...could Guillaume still have his soul? Uncle Lucien says that the soul leaves when the demon takes over, but what if he is wrong? Guillaume controls his demon much of the time, only changing form when upset, or greatly aroused. Even then, the demon does not make him into an animal. He could have killed me many times over, and yet he has not.

14 May, 1435

Oncle Lucien is wrong about vampires not having souls- he must be. Guillaume has a soul- I can see it clearly each time that I look at him. I can feel it when he is inside me, and when he drinks from me, I believe that my blood gives his soul strength.

Guillaume has said that he does not feel the bloodlust as he once did. That it has lessened since our first time together. I believe him, for there are fewer dead now, than there were before we met. I know that he still feeds, but something prevents him from draining his victims. Part of me wants to tell Oncle Lucien about Guillaume, but I know that I cannot. I have no proof of his soul, there is only my belief that it is so.

She was lying next to a hard body, wrapped in a pair of strong arms. His hand stroked her hair and she snuggled closer, not minding the cold chill of his skin against hers. She softly spoke his name, just to hear the sound of it. "Guillaume, mon amour..."

His arms tightened around her and he pressed his lips to her forehead. "It is getting dangerous, cherie. He is going to find out if we are not careful. I should take you away from here."

"Non, I do not want to leave Marie-Therese. Not yet. Perhaps if Lucien knew that you had a soul..."

He frowned. "He would not believe you. Nosferatu are demons, that is all he knows."

"It does not matter...we know the truth." She smiled as her hand came up to stroke his cheek. " And now there is proof..."

Buffy's eyes shot open and she lay there for a moment, disoriented. Another dream- so vivid- just like the ones before. The words that she'd spoken echoed in her head. *Soul, proof...what proof?* Was she dreaming about Anne...or someone else?

She rolled over and her hand fell on the empty space next to her. "Spike?" Where was he? The clock read 3:30 am. There was plenty of time before dawn; he wouldn't have just left without saying goodbye. Hurriedly, she threw a nightshirt on and wrapped a blanket around herself, heading downstairs to look for him.

Spike wasn't anywhere on the first floor. Buffy checked the front porch and then walked around the side of the house to the back yard. He was facing away from her, sprawled in one of the heavy lawn chairs- head tilted back, smoking- as he gazed up at the sky. She silently moved closer, the damp grass cold against her bare feet.

He spoke without turning around. "You should be sleeping, pet. You're bloody exhausted as it is."

Buffy continued walking toward him. "I had another dream."

"I know." He turned his head to look at her as she stopped next to the chair. "You were talking in your sleep again." He took another drag on his cigarette, then tossed it away when she wrinkled her nose. "You didn't tell me that you were still having them."

"I didn't think it mattered."

Spike opened his arms and Buffy climbed into his lap, still wrapped in the blanket. "What's wrong, Spike? Why did you come out here alone?" She lay her head on his chest, and he rested his chin on top of it.

"You said a name this time. Guillaume."

"That's the man in my dreams. The one that I thought was you." She looked up at him, puzzled by the closed expression on his face. She was unprepared for what he said next.

"When you were in L.A., I had a dream about a girl. A Slayer. We were in a stable...she called me Guillaume." He felt her stiffen in his arms and she pulled back, studying his face in the moonlight.

"I- I had a dream like that, in a stable. We were making love..." The chill night air made her shiver and she burrowed against him again, her face in the crook of his neck.

"What in the bloody hell is going on, Slayer? How can we be having the same dreams?" He would have understood if it had been Drusilla. She had sometimes been able to do that, get into his dreams, get inside his head. But this was the Slayer. It shouldn't be possible- neither of them had that kind of power.

"I don't know." Buffy took a deep breath. "Willow and Giles are translating journals belonging to a Watcher and Slayer from the fifteenth century- Anne LeMaire and Lucien Aubry. They're in French."

"And you think-?"

She shrugged. "I don't know if they have anything to do with my dreams. But I felt so strange when I touched the Slayer's journal, as if it belonged to me. And her name, Anne...it's my middle name."

"Guillaume is French for William. This is all too fucking weird, pet. I know this is the Hellmouth, but-" He shook his head.

"I need to see if Willow found out anything else. Maybe the journals will tell us what's going on." She shivered again, and he tightened his embrace.

"You're cold, luv...let's go back inside." He stood up and carried her back into the house, back to her waiting bed. They still had an hour or so before he had to leave. An hour that he wasn't about to waste worrying about bloody stupid dreams that he had no control over. An hour that could be better spent buried deep inside her, where he belonged.

In the library later that afternoon, Buffy put the pages she had been reading down on the table and stared into space. She had slept for half of the day, arriving at school a short time ago to find Willow bouncing up and down with excitement. Giles had stepped out for a moment, giving the two girls some time alone to go over the journal entries. Now, Buffy sat there, stunned at what she'd found.

Willow looked at the Slayer in concern, not liking the blank look on her face. "Buffy? Are you all right?" She laid her hand on the Slayer's arm and sighed with relief when the girl responded, her eyes coming back into focus as she turned to look at the redhead.

Buffy shook her head slightly. "I- I don't understand." She looked back down at the papers in front of her. "I dreamt this, all of it. The man in my dreams...I call him Guillaume. And Spike told me that he dreamt about a Slayer who called him that. It has to be- but how could it?" Her eyes were huge as she stared Willow. "How can it be possible that Spike and I are having the same dreams, about people who lived five hundred years ago?"

"I don't know how it's possible, but maybe it's time we told Giles-"

"No! I can't, not yet. Not until we know more. Please, Willow, don't tell him..." Buffy pleaded.

Willow closed her eyes, sighing. "All right. I won't tell yet. But eventually, he's gonna have to know. You can't keep this from him forever."

"I know...and I will tell him, soon. I promise." Buffy ran her fingers over the pages. "The dream I had this morning...I said there was proof...proof that Guillaume had a soul."

"Really? I haven't come across anything yet. There must be something in later entries..." Willow looked at the clock and jumped up. "Ack! I have to go and meet Oz. We're going to dinner and then to the Bronze. Dingoes are playing tonight, are you gonna come?"

Buffy shook her head. "Not tonight. I have to patrol and then meet Spike. I need to tell him about the journals."

Willow looked at her closely. "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

"Okay, but if you change your mind..." At Buffy's nod, Willow continued, "I'll do some more translating tomorrow. We'll find your proof, don't worry." She gave Buffy a reassuring smile and turned to grab her things. "Tell Giles I'll see him in the morning, kay?" Willow looked at the clock once more and said goodbye, hurrying so that she wouldn't be late.

"Bye, Will." Buffy's gaze drifted back to the journal entries. *Guillaume...Spike...Anne...me. What happened to them? What's going to happen to us?* A tear snuck out of the corner of her eye and she listlessly brushed it away. Her life felt like it was spinning out of control, and she suspected that it was only going to get worse.

Oz took Willow's hand and led her to the dance floor as a slow song came over the sound system. The Dingoes had finished an early set, which left the rest of his evening free to do as he pleased. And right now, what pleased him was dancing with his girlfriend.

I love the time and in between the calm inside me
In the space where I can breathe
I believe there is a distance I have wandered
To touch upon the years of reaching out and reaching in

Willow sighed with pleasure as he took her in his arms, resting her head against his and winding her arms around his neck as they swayed to the music. All she could think about was how perfectly they fit together, and how wonderfully right everything seemed when he held her. She snuggled closer and smiled dreamily as she listened to the song that seemed chosen just for them.

Holding out, holding in
I believe this is heaven to no one else but me
And I'll defend it as long as I can be
Left here to linger in silence

Oz rubbed his cheek against Willow's hair and breathed in her scent- so clean and fresh, with just the faintest hint of apple. Since becoming a werewolf, he'd noticed a higher awareness of all of his senses- not to mention a greater need for physical contact.

I know this love is passing time
Passing through like liquid
I am drunk in my desire...

He often found himself burying his face in Willow's hair, nuzzling her neck at the pulse point, or just letting his fingers roam over her silky soft skin. Wolf traits- pack behavior, he knew from his research. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep from claiming Willow as his mate, in every way possible. He wondered if she knew just how much he and the wolf wanted her.

But I love the way you smile at me
I love the way your hands reach out
And hold me near
I believe

A low rumbling sound was coming from deep in Oz's chest. Willow smiled and wondered if Oz was even aware of it. She had noticed that he sometimes made small animal noises of contentment when he held her or kissed her. It gave her a warm feeling in her belly when he did that...and often led to her imagining the two of them rolling around naked together, like puppies. She'd never admitted it to anyone, but she liked some of his wolf qualities. Especially the ones that drove him to nuzzle her as he was doing now.

I believe
This is heaven to no one else but me

Unconsciously, Willow began nuzzling him back, rubbing her face in the hollow of his throat. Oz tightened his hold around her as he felt himself harden. The heady scent of her arousal hit him then, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before they passed the point of no return. Already, their makeout sessions were growing more passionate, more desperate. He'd been ready ages ago and hadn't wanted to rush her, but now, it finally seemed as though she had caught up with him. A slight whimper escaped his lips as he brushed them across hers. *Soon, please, baby...I don't know how much longer I can hold out.*

Oh the quiet child awaits the day
When she can break free the mold
That clings like desperation

Willow felt his hardness pressing against her and she shivered at the pleasure of it. She knew that things were changing between them- getting more serious, more passionate- and she welcomed it. 'Carpe diem', she'd told Buffy once. Seizing was becoming as inevitable for her as it had been for the Slayer. She almost giggled at the thought. She, Willow Rosenberg- the good one- was going to have sex. And probably soon, by the looks of things. It felt right, and she wanted it so much, more than she had ever thought possible.

It was true that she'd fantasized about Giles, but that was all it was- fantasy. Oz was real. Real and warm and hard- *So very hard...how can he stand it?* He'd been so patient with her. Willow remembered a time when she'd despaired of ever getting smoochies. *How long ago that seems. So many things have changed since then.*

She sighed and sank further into Oz, letting her fingers play with the hair at the back of his neck. It had been such a perfect evening that she was sorry to see it end. But she'd promised to be home early tonight and since her mom was actually paying attention for once, she didn't want to disappoint her. *One more dance and then we'll go...just one more...*

I believe
This is heaven to no one else but me
And I'll defend it as long as I can be
Left here to linger in silence...

Buffy paced around her room impatiently- picking up her stuffed animals, putting them back down, glancing toward the clock- waiting...waiting for Spike. It was already nearly midnight, where the hell could he be?

She had finished patrolling an hour ago and figured that he'd be waiting for her when she returned. She was anxious to show him the journal entries, although she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. And she still needed to find out what the so-called 'proof' was, before she could tell him that he still had his soul. Hopefully, Willow would come across the information tomorrow, when she continued the translation.

Buffy looked at the phone and sighed for the twentieth time. Where was he?

Oz and Willow were driving home in comfortable silence, just listening to the radio. It was still early- not even midnight, yet. Oz liked it when the band played the first set; it gave him more time to spend with Willow.

She had already told him about the journals and Buffy's response and he had agreed with her decision to abide by the Slayer's wishes. "They always shoot the messenger," was what he'd said. And he was right- there was nothing to be gained by telling Giles, only friendships to be lost.

Oz broke the silence, saying casually, "How does a picnic next Saturday sound, at Breaker's Woods?" He was staring straight ahead; the only sign of tension was the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel.

Willow looked over at him. "The whole gang?"

"Actually, I was thinking it would be nice if it was, you know, just the two of us." He glanced over at her and his lips quirked up in that half-smile that always made her heart skip a couple of beats.

Willow swallowed and tried not to squeak as she answered, "It sounds wonderful." *We're going to do it, we're going to do it...*

Oz started to say something else, but was interrupted by a thump and slight listing of the van, signalling a blown tire. "Damn!" he swore, and pulled over, casting uneasy glances out the window at the street around them.

They were still in the industrial district, surrounded by factories and warehouses- not the ideal place to be stopping your vehicle. The broken windows of the deserted buildings only added to the sinister feel of the place. Oz considered trying to make it home on a flat tire, but quickly discarded that idea as he calculated the cost of a new rim. "Stay in the van," he ordered, reaching behind the seat for his tools.

"I'm coming with you," Willow replied calmly.

"Willow, don't argue-"

"Forget it, Oz. You're not going alone. Besides, you need someone to keep an eye out...and hand you stuff." She smiled, then opened the door and stepped out, pulling her cross from her pocket. Oz ran a hand through his hair in frustration and followed her, trying to see into the dark alleyways around them. It was quiet...almost too quiet.

As they walked around the van, Oz couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. He opened the back of the van and pulled out the spare, stiffening as the hair on the back of his neck rose, alerting him to danger. "Willow, get out of here," he said softly.

"What-?" She turned to look at him and caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. Shadows in the distance, creeping between the buildings. *No, oh please, not now...* she pleaded silently as she moved closer to Oz, her cross held in a death grip.

"There are too many of them, you have to run," Oz said under his breath. *Ambush, fuck! They must have followed us.* He was trying to calculate how much time they had before the vampires struck.
Willow shook her head vehemently. "I'm not leaving you-"

Oz grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her skin painfully. "Listen to me, Willow...you're getting the fuck out of here now! I'm not gonna let anything happen to you..." He pulled her close for a quick, hard kiss. "I love you." His green gaze was luminescent in the darkness.

Willow's eyes filled with tears. "Oz..." she choked out.

He gave her a shove in the opposite direction. "Go..." At her hesitation, he growled, his voice no longer human. "GO!" He pushed her hard and turned to face the coming onslaught, determined to stay between them and Willow.

Willow stumbled, then righted herself, trying to see through her tears. She took off in the direction that Oz had pointed her to...and ran right into one of the vampires.

She screamed and out of reflex, shoved her cross in his face, feeling satisfaction at the sizzling sound it made when it connected with undead flesh. The vampire screeched and threw up his hands, giving her the opportunity to slip by him. She ran as fast as she could, the word 'coward' playing itself over and over in her head.

Oz counted six of them and swore silently. He tightened his grip on the stake in his hand and braced himself. He knew that unless help arrived, he was fucked, but he was going to do his damnedest to take some of them with him. The thought ran through his mind that it was too bad he didn't have more control over the change. As a wolf, he'd have a lot better chance of getting out of this alive.

They came closer, flanking him on all sides. The vampires were young in appearance, mostly teens, probably fledglings. It didn't make them any less dangerous. He slid the cross from his pocket and held it out in front of him, moving it slowly back and forth, trying to keep them all within his line of vision.

The vampire directly in front of him smiled. "I wonder if the Slayer's friends taste better than the
rest of the cattle around here?"

Displaying an outward calm that he didn't feel, Oz replied, "Would you believe me if I said no?"

The vampire shook his head, still smiling. "No."

Without warning, one of vampires rushed at Oz, hitting him in the side, while another rolled toward his legs. The cross was knocked from his hand and he went down hard, still gripping the stake. Oz curled into a ball and then sprang up, driving the stake into the chest of one of his attackers. *One down.*

While his back was turned, the others closed in and as one, they rushed him. Oz felt his joints pop as his arms were wrenched painfully out of their sockets and he was forced to the ground. The vampires swarmed over him, teeth bared, laughing evilly as he looked up into their yellow eyes. *Game over.*

Oz focused on the one that had spoken earlier, figuring him for the leader. "You do know that this is gonna royally piss off the Slayer, don't you?" he said through gritted teeth, stalling for time.

The leader laughed. "That's what I'm counting on. She killed our Sire and now you get to pay for it." He leaned closer, saying as he did, "Feeding time, boys. Let's remember to share..."

Oz tried desperately to will the change, using his pain and fear as a motivator. He felt a shifting in his bones, but it was too little, too late as fangs tore open his wrists and throat. An unearthly sound echoed in the deserted street- half howl, half scream- that was suddenly choked off under an arc of crimson that sprayed from punctured arteries.

Pain. Like a thousand needles stabbing into him, he felt their fangs rend his flesh. They were ripping his skin as they savagely fed, sometimes snarling at each other as they jostled for position. Like hyenas- feral and bloodthirsty- completely mindless in the face of their ravening hunger. He felt transported by the pain, as if he was watching his last moments from a distance, dimly registering the sucking and swallowing sounds that drifted into the air around him.

As his lifeblood drained away, Oz consoled himself with the knowledge that Willow was safe. He'd protected her, and that was all that mattered. The pain that had been so intense just moments before was fading, leaving behind a numbness that spread through his entire body. His last conscious thought was regret that he'd waited to make Willow his mate. That he never had the chance to taste all of her, to bury himself inside her. Never got the chance to show her how much he really loved her. *WillowWillowWillowWillow...*

Willow stopped running after a couple of blocks and just stood there gasping, tears running down her face. Her hands were clenched in fists, as fear, anger and shame all threatened to overwhelm her. *I just left him there, left him to die...*

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and turned back in the direction of the van, ignoring the stabbing pain in her side as she ran. *Please be all right, Oz...please, oh god, don't be dead...*

As she neared the street where she'd left him, Willow slowed and moved into the shadows, trying to find a way to get close without being noticed. She spotted an alley an crept down it, as silently as possible. It opened up right near where the van was parked, affording her with a clear view of the street. Willow slunk down behind some boxes and peered through the spaces between them and the building.

Oz was lying on the ground, motionless. The vampires were feeding on him- from his arms, his throat, his thighs. Willow choked back a sob. *Too many, I can't do anything...stop, please stop...* She shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming, wanting to close her eyes, but unable to look away.

One of them stood up and wiped his hand across his mouth. His voice carried to the alley as he looked down at Oz, saying, "Werewolf blood...now that's some powerful shit! Better than that Wiccan we caught last week..." He looked up at his followers. "This should send a message to the Slayer...and let Spike know that he's finished as Master. It's time to take control and do what should have been done months ago...kill the bitch who staked our Sire."

*Werewolf...* It suddenly occured to Willow that werewolves were hard to kill. *Do they have to be in wolf-form?* Would he survive being drained? A tiny thread of hope began winding its way through her. *C'mon, Oz...you can make it. Please don't die...* If only the vamps would leave!

The leader pulled something from his pocket and tossed it to one of the others. "Here, don't forget to finish the job. Just in case." He grinned as the minion raised the silver knife and plunged it into Oz's heart.

*NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!* She didn't know how she managed to keep the scream from hurtling into the air. The tears flowed freely as her body slumped to the ground behind the boxes, fist still in her mouth to stifle the sobs building in her throat.

The vampires laughed as they walked off into the night, leaving behind a scene of carnage. When she was positive they wouldn't be returning, Willow let the first of many moans escape. "Oz..." She stumbled to her feet and ran to him, dropping to the ground and cradling his head in her lap. There was so much blood...

"Oz, no...please...you can't...don't leave me...OOOZZZZ!!!" Her anguished wail rang in the street around her as she rocked and moaned, combing her fingers through his blood matted hair. And the words of self-loathing began to slam through her brain, over and over.. *Coward...coward...coward...coward...*

Buffy stared into space, the phone slipping unnoticed from her fingers as every nerve in her body went completely dead. *Dead...Oz...dead...nooooo...not again, please don't let this happen again...* Her legs gave out and she crumpled to the bedroom floor, wrapping her arms around herself as if they could keep her from coming apart.

Giles had been near hysteria himself on the phone, most likely caught up in flashbacks of Jenny's death. Vampires...it had been...

"It'll be all right, baby. I'll take care of everything," she dimly remembered Spike saying that night after the Bronze. *Oh god, he wouldn't...he couldn't have...* She began to rock and moan as horrible images assailed her mind.

No, Spike wouldn't kill Oz...he had promised. Giles had said several vampires, not one. But Spike was Master- would he have sent them after Oz and Willow? "You belong to me. You're mine." Had he felt that threatened?

*God, Willow...go...I need to go see her...* From what Giles had said, the hacker was nearly catatonic. She choked off an anguished cry and lowered her head to her knees. *My fault...it's all my fault...I promised her that they'd all be safe...*

A sound at the window broke through her thoughts. She looked up to find Spike climbing through her window, grinning and glassy-eyed.

"Hello, luv. What are you doing down there on the floor?"

Buffy looked away, surreptitiously wiping her eyes on her shoulder. "You're late."

Spike's eyes narrowed at the coldness of her tone. "Didn't know I was punching a fuckin' clock, pet." The iciness in his voice nearly matched hers.

"Where were you?"

No greeting, no flinging herself into his arms...nothing. Just that distant stare and accusation in her voice. His first impulse was to leave, as his impatience flared, but instead, he found himself answering her. "The blasted starter went on the De Soto. I've been working on the bloody thing all night."

Buffy snorted. "You were working on the car." She tamped down the hysterical laugh that threatened to escape from her throat. For a brief second, he was like any other guy, late because he'd been fooling around with an engine. But he wasn't just any guy. He was a vampire, and he'd definitely fed tonight. *Fed on who? Is he lying? Was he there when they...?*

"Yes, I was working on the car," Spike said, his irritation growing by the second. "I always do my own repairs. I've had 'er for nearly forty years and I'm not going to let some git go mucking about in there." He was baffled by her behavior- she'd never acted this way before, not even in the early days of their relationship, when they'd both been fighting their feelings. A thought occurred to him and he sniffed the air as Buffy stood up and began stuffing items in a duffle bag.

She considered what he'd said as she shoved clothing, stakes and holy water into her bag. It had the ring of truth to it, but that still didn't change the fact that Oz had been killed by his followers. *Oz...*
Spike growled in frustration as she effectively ignored his presence. "All right, I know y'er not on the bloody rag, so exactly what the fuck is your problem tonight?"

"Oz is dead." She said the words matter-of-factly, her face closed off, devoid of any emotion.

Spike froze. "What? How?" *Jesus bloody Christ, no wonder...*

"How do you think?" she replied, bitterly. There was something in her eyes that scared him, something that he wished he didn't see.

"Vampire..." *Shit, fuck...who would dare to...?*

"Vampires- plural. If there had been only one, Oz would still be alive." She turned away from him. "I have to go, Willow needs me."

"Willow...Christ, is she all right?"

"No, she's not all right. She was there...she saw what they did to him. I don't know if she'll ever be all right..."

He took a step toward her and reached out, wanting to hold her, comfort her. "Buffy..."

She backed away from his touch. "Don't..."

The look in her eyes stopped him cold. "Hold on there, pet. You don't think that I had anything to do with...?" Her answer was evident by the uncertainty on her face. He felt as if his undead heart had been ripped from his chest. "Thanks a bloody hell of a lot, Slayer."

She almost went to him when she heard the pain in his voice, but then shoved the impulse away. Willow needed her, and that was all that mattered at the moment. She couldn't deal with this- with him- not now. "I can't do this, not now. I can't..." Buffy looked at him helplessly, not knowing what to say, what to feel. Everything felt dead, numb. *Oz is dead, he's not coming back...ever...*

She turned away and grabbed her bag. At the door she paused, and spoke without turning around. "Don't wait for me, I'm not coming back tonight." Without waiting for an answer, she walked out of the room and down the stairs.

Spike stood there in shock, unable to believe that everything had fallen apart so suddenly. Twenty-four hours ago they had been wrapped up in each other's arms and now, tonight, she had looked at him as if he was a stranger. He dragged a hand through his hair and pulled it back to punch the wall, stopping himself at the last minute as he remembered that her mum was home.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, jumping all over the place as the image of her face, full of fear and distrust, refused to leave his head. *Slayer...Buffy...how could you think...?* And then the implications of Oz's death hit him. *Vampires...more than one. The fucking revolution appears to have started, eh?* He was willing to bet that Darius was the ringleader. Anger surged through him as he recalled the many times that he'd refrained from snapping the younger vampire's neck.

Angelus' fledglings had been a thorn in his side from the very beginning. His gaze drifted over to the closet and the object that sat at the bottom. He walked steadily across the room and dropped to his knees in front of the trunk.

Throwing it open, he shoved aside the crosses and garlic, ignoring the burning pain as they singed his flesh. Finding what he sought, he stared at the stakes and bottles of holy water for a second, before gathering them up and stuffing them in the pockets of his duster.

As he ran his hands over the rough edges of the wood, he imagined them tearing through undead flesh, inflicting as much pain as was inhumanly possible. It was time to take control- for himself, for the Slayer- before it was too late. *Time to do what I should have done a long fucking time ago...rid the earth of every last trace of Angel and his progeny...*

Buffy walked into the hospital like a zombie, unaware of her surroundings. Despite the lateness of the hour, doctors and nurses bustled about in the hallways on their way to various emergencies. The Hellmouth kept the medical personnel in Sunnydale pretty busy, and many of them lived quite well on the overtime pay.

She spotted Giles pacing outside Willow's room, running his hands repeatedly through his hair. He looked haggard, as if he hadn't slept in days. Running toward him, she threw herself into his arms the way that she wished she could have done with Spike. He held her tightly, his own tears burning behind closed eyelids. It was like reliving Jenny all over again...only Willow was just a child, too young to have to experience losing the man she loved. Too young to have to face that kind of terror.

Buffy wiped at her tears and pulled away, staring at him intensely. His eyes were filled with pain behind lenses that were smudged with dried tears. "Tell me what happened Giles...tell me everything."

He took her hand and led her to the bench outside Willow's room. Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes and tried to find his voice. "I- I'm not entirely sure what happened. Apparently, they were in the warehouse district when Oz got a punctured tire. The vampires attacked when he stopped to fix it. H-He forced Willow to run and she managed to escape before they...before they..." Giles paused for a moment as the thought of Willow meeting the same fate overtook him.

Buffy shuddered. "If Willow got away, then how did she see...?"

"She made her way back and watched from an alleyway. Someone driving home from the Bronze spotted her in the street and called 911." His gaze moved to the door of Willow's room. "She-she wouldn't leave him, they had to pull her off of his body. She's been in shock since the ambulance brought her in."

Giles had been terrified for her safety when Xander had called him and told him what had happened. Xander himself had been nearly incoherent with worry and Cordelia had finally taken the boy to the snack machines to try to calm him down. Willow's parents had been persuaded to leave after being assured that their daughter was all right and that they could come back in the morning.

Buffy followed his gaze with her own. "I should have been with them. She asked me to go and I said no..." Tears filled her eyes again.

Giles took hold of her hands. "Buffy, you can't blame yourself. It's quite possible that the van's tire was tampered with." He paused for a moment before continuing. "They must have been watching all of you...they knew that Oz was a werewolf. He was stabbed through the heart with a silver knife. Evidently, this was a planned attack."

Planned attack. They knew...they 'knew' that Oz was a werewolf. Was it as Giles had said and the vampires had been watching all of them, or had someone told them to come prepared? Giles was wrong about one thing, though. It 'was' her fault for getting involved with Spike in the first place. Part of her wanted to tell Giles everything, but she held back. This wasn't the time, not with Oz dead and Willow almost comatose. "I need to see Willow," she said, scrubbing at the wetness on her face as she stood.

Buffy entered the room and her heart broke in two as she looked at her best friend. The bed was slightly raised up, and Willow's eyes were wide and staring as she lay there, her fists rhythmically clenching and unclenching on the blankets.

The Slayer approached the bed and sat in a nearby chair, taking one of Willow's hands in hers. The nurses had apparently cleaned her up, for there wasn't a speck of blood on her anywhere, not even under her nails.

"Willow?" The redhead's hand was like ice, and continued clenching as Buffy held it. "Will, I'm so sorry...please be all right..." The sobs came bursting forth and her head dropped to the mattress. "I should have...I'm sorry...please don't go away...we can't lose you, too..." The words came pouring out in a torrent, making little sense as all of her grief and guilt came with them.

After what seemed like hours, her tears slowed and there was only a slight shuddering of her body as it gradually calmed. Her eyes had just begun to close when she felt Willow's hand tighten painfully on hers.

Buffy's head shot up. "Willow?"

Slowly, the other girl turned to look at her with vacant eyes. "Buffy?"

Willow's eyes focused as she stared at the room around her, with its disinfectant smell and pale green walls. Her head felt so fuzzy. She realized that she was lying in a bed and looked back at Buffy with a puzzled expression. "Why am I in the hospital? What-?" And suddenly it all came back to her- Oz, the vampires, the blood. "Oz is dead, isn't he?" she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

Buffy nodded. "Will, I'm so sorry...I should have been there...I'm so very sorry," she began, but Willow wasn't listening. She was caught up in her own guilt over what had happened. Buffy was shocked at the bitterness in Willow's voice as she interrupted her.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too. I ran, Buffy...like a coward. Just left him there to die. And then I hid and watched..." She turned her head away. "I should have let them kill me, too."

Buffy grabbed Willow by the shoulders and shook her, hard. "Don't you ever say that! Ever! Oz wanted you to survive, and he'd hate it if he heard you blame yourself." She pulled the redhead into her arms and held her as they both cried for the werewolf who'd sacrificed himself for the woman he'd loved. Through her tears, Willow heard the Slayer murmur, "If anyone's to blame, it's me. If I'd been there, if I hadn't gotten involved with Spike in the first place, then he wouldn't have..."

Willow was silent for a moment before she pulled away, shaking her head. "Spike wasn't there, Buffy. They said-" She took a deep breath. "They said that it was payback...because you killed Angel."

Buffy went cold, her worst fear realized. Oz 'was' dead because of her. "How you must hate me," she said, feeling as if her entire world had crumbled to pieces.

Willow started to shake her head in denial, then stopped. She stared down at her hands twisting in her lap. "I don't hate you...I could never hate you. But maybe...maybe part of me does blame you." She looked up at Buffy's pain-filled face. "If you weren't the Slayer...if you hadn't killed Angel...then maybe Oz would still be..." Willow's gaze lowered again and she continued in a ragged whisper, "If only...if only I hadn't left him..."

Buffy grabbed Willow's hands. "If you hadn't left him then you'd be dead, Willow!" Fresh tears started in both girls' eyes. "You're my best friend, I couldn't stand it if I lost you, too..." They held each other again, crying for Oz, for themselves, for the way that their lives were forever changed by one senseless act of revenge.

After a few minutes, Buffy realized that the others didn't know that Willow had come to. She pulled away, smoothing back the redhead's hair. Willow grabbed her arm. "Don't go!" she said.

"I should go and tell Giles that you're awake. He's really worried about you. Xander and Cordelia, too." Buffy tried to smile and failed. She patted Willow's hand to reassure her. "Don't worry, Will. I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying right here for the rest of the night. I'm not going to let them hurt you anymore." She turned a left the room to get the others, thoughts of Spike filling her head.

She didn't want to believe that he'd had anything to do with this. That the man who'd been so loving toward her could have done such a horrendous thing. *Was I wrong? Was he only just a demon?* He'd looked incredibly hurt when he'd realized that she hadn't trusted him. And he'd seemed genuinely concerned about Willow. Buffy shook her head, trying to clear it. *I can't think about him now. I have to stay here with Willow and watch over her. I'll deal with Spike tomorrow.*

Pushing him from her mind, she hurried over to Giles and Xander to tell them that Willow was awake.

<< back