Archive of Our Own

"Guided spirits, 

Hear our plea, 

Anull this magic, 

Let us be." 

Willow sighed; she was in super big trouble, but at least she couldn't accidentally turn Xander into an actual poop head now. No matter how unsympathetic he was being about Oz leaving. A moment later, she hissed and clutched her head as a hot, rolling wave of agony washed over her. The heat swirled and focused on the inside of her skull, making her feel like her brain was blistering, boiling. She clutched at her head desperately, hoping the pain stopped soon so she could find out why this was happening. If she had caused it by accident. 

As soon as it had started, it was gone. Memories flooded back, one after the other, and she could barely make sense of them.

"Oh my God!" said Buffy from behind her. "I'm so sorry!" She suddenly burst into tears on Spike's lap.

He gathered her up in his arms, stroking her hair. "Oh, pet, it's ok," he said softly. "Not your fault, don't blame you at all."

"Willow!" bellowed Xander from the other side of the crypt. "Why are they still all," he gestured wildly at the couple on the floor, "like that. What did you do?"

"They-" She stopped, still trying to sort out her newly not-missing memories. Buffy sat on her bed, facing Willow, a worried expression on her face. "I'm so anxious about what they're going to think, Wills,” she said. “They're going to hate it. I didn't - I didn't think I could ever love someone ever again after Angel, but - it's real, it’s messy and frustrating, it's heat, desire, friendship, and it's fun, like I've never felt before." She took a long, calming breath. "He lets me talk and doesn't make me feel stupid when I don't know something. He listens; Angel never listened. He makes me feel like all my emotions are, like, real and not me being hysterical or whatever. He's open - sort of - about his past; I know more about him than I ever did about Angel. 

“This feeling, it's so strong, it feels like it might burst out of my chest just to get back to him. I mean, sure, he has a demon, but he doesn't let it rule him like Angelus does. Besides, his demon loves me and so does he." 

"Does anyone else know?" Willow asked in hushed tones. 

There was a rustle from the tree next to Buffy’s bedroom window, and they both craned their necks to look outside. There was no one there. 

"Nobody besides you. I haven't told anyone else."

"Willow! What did you do?" Xander asked, now standing in front of her and impatiently waving a hand in her face. 

"I didn't do anything! Someone cast a-a memory spell to make us forget about-" she glanced down at the couple on the floor, and Spike gave a sharp nod in her direction and went back to stroking Buffy’s hair and whispering comforting words in an effort to calm her down. "About them meeting in LA the summer Buffy was gone. They were together most of the time she was there. Spike dropped her off back in Sunnydale and left to find-" 

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," groaned Spike, apparently remembering what his trip had been for in the first place and thumping his head on the sarcophagus he was leaning on. 

"And I-" cried Buffy "I sent it to Angel." She buried her face into the hollow of his throat and started to cry in earnest. Big, heart-rending, gut-churning sobs. 

"Pet, pet." Spike gave her a little shake. "Buffy, love, stop ." He gripped her biceps and twisted her around to face him. "You're going to hyperventilate."

"I'm so - hic - sorry. I've messed this - hic - up so badly."

"'S-ok, nothing that we can't figure out, yeah?" He looked up from Buffy and raised an eyebrow at Willow. "You didn't do this, did you, Red?" 

"No- I didn't, I swear," she gulped. "Why would I make myself forget as well?" 

"Plausible deniability?" he said with a raised eyebrow. He looked at her for a long moment, cocking his head. He must have found whatever he was searching for in her face, and turned away to rest his cheek on Buffy’s scalp. "Come on, pet." He kissed the top of her head. "We need to see who's done this to us so I can pull the bastard’s eyeballs out through his asshole."

"Ew! Spike!" said Buffy from her spot in his lap, sobering suddenly. "You think it was Angel, don't you?"

"I'm willin' to bet money on it, but I want to talk to the Watcher first. He might have gotten it into his head that he was doing what was best for you."

"I didn't tell anyone!" said Willow indignantly. 

"Doesn't mean you weren't overheard, pet." 

Willow pulled a face but didn't disagree. 

"I didn't tell her-" 

"Probably for the best, pet. The watcher will most likely go spare." Spike looked up at Anya, who was watching both of them in suspicion.

"You didn't ," she said in disbelief, still looking at them both. 

There was a crunch of Spike's game face, and suddenly Anya was being looked at through feral yellow eyes. "None of your fucking business, demon girl," he growled. "You keep those thoughts to yourself, lest you wake up somewhere nasty and on fire."

Anya nodded congenially, apparently unperturbed by Spike's threats of violence. Xander, however…

"You don't talk to my girlfriend like that, you- you bastard !" Xander stalked towards him, spitting nails and drawing back a fist to hit him. 

"Xander no!" yelled Anya, lunging after him. 

Anya was too late; he was swinging towards Spike when, at the last second, Buffy’s hand shot out and clamped around Xander’s fist, stopping it a millimetre from Spike's jaw. 

"You don't touch my vampire," Buffy said coldly, looking at him with steely eyes and running mascara. She squeezed his fist, grinding his finger bones together, and he gasped in pain, falling to his knees on the dirty crypt floor. “Just because he can't defend himself doesn’t mean I’m going to let you beat him up because he said something you don’t like.”

"Buffy--you're hurting me," he said in disbelief.

“Pick on someone your own size, Xander. You know you’d be dead in a heartbeat if he didn't have that thing in his brain.”

Xander looked around for sympathy, and found none. 

"You deserved it, Xander, Willow all but told you they were c-" Spike let out a subsonic growl that made everyone's bones rattle- "-involved," Anya corrected herself quickly. "You wouldn't like it if someone was going to punch me for being rude, would you?" 

Buffy let his hand go and he clutched it to his chest in pain. Mottled bruises had already started to come to the surface of his fist. She glared at Xander and tucked her head back into Spike's chest. 

"But- but! He deserves it! He's a monster! He kills people!" 

Anya shrugged. "Not anymore. And I doubt he would have kept killing if someone hadn't taken his memories away. Besides, I've got a far higher body count than the entirety of the Whirlwind combined. I was a Vengeance demon for over a thousand years!" she said in disbelief. "I've started wars that have killed hundreds of thousands." She straightened her shirt primly. "Some of my best work." 

"Yeah?" said Spike with interest, but Buffy shushed him. 

"Not right now, ok?" 

Spike huffed good naturedly. 

"But--you're human now, right? You feel guilty about all that stuff."

Anya frowned. "What? Of course not! Every single man I've punished in the last thousand years has deserved it. Some of them doubly so. Why would I feel guilty? And also, I'm not human, I'm just mortal now since Giles smashed my power centre. Why do you think Spike keeps calling me demon-girl?"

"But- but-" stuttered Xander, drawing away from his girlfriend and towards the door. "You have a soul. You- have to be-" 

She frowned again, cutting him off. "What makes you think I have a soul? A human soul? And why would they be any better than demon souls? What do you think a soul is even for?" 

"It- it's supposed to make you good? Right?" he asked the room at large. 

"Ted Bundy, anyone? Jeffrey Dahmer? Manson? Hitler? Stalin? Jack the Ripper?" added Spike helpfully. 

"Shut up, dead boy!" Xander growled. "Buffy, I can't believe you were stupid enough to get involved with another vampire, after everything that happened with Angel. He doesn't even have a soul!" 

"Um, hypocritical much?" Buffy said, glaring at Xander. "Next time you date someone who wants to go all praying mantis on you, remind me not to save you."

Spike frowned at that. "Fat lot of good a soul did for Angel, whelp. I'm not that wanker," he growled. "He may have tried to bend me to his image for twenty years but it never took." 

" And ," sniffled Buffy, attempting to wipe away the mascara from her face. "I never would have been able to defeat Angelus without him."

"Oh, yeah right," scoffed Xander. 

"Only reason you're so upset, whelp, is that you're waiting for Buffy to realise that you're the one that should be getting up her skirt. Got news for you - Slayer’s more like to break you in half by accident than play hide the sausage."

Buffy punched Spike in the arm. "Ew, Spike! You could have put it more nicely than that. And Xander, I told you I wasn't interested in dating you even before-" she shook herself, and Spike heard Xander’s heart rate kick up a few notches, fear rolling off him in waves. 

He was going to have to ask Buffy about that. And the praying mantis thing, that last one sounded like a right laugh. 

"Even after you asked me out the first time. I'm not sure how much clearer I can be. I do not , under any circumstances, want to date you. And Spike's right, I probably would be worried about breaking you in some way even if we did date for some reason. Not that we ever will. You guys are just so-" she thought for a moment, "fragile. You don't understand how hard it is to have to constantly monitor yourself so you don't accidentally crush a- a doorknob, crack your hair dryer, or break your best friend’s ribs when you hug them."

"Girl can rip the head off a vampire if she wanted, and I've watched her do it." He smiled at her in admiration.

Buffy took in her friends' horrified faces. "I didn't have any stakes left," she muttered under her breath. "How else was I supposed to kill him?" 

"Ruddy brilliant you are," Spike said, grinning. 

"You're so gross, you know that?" she said, starting to get up. 

Spike grinned. "Uh huh, but you love it." 

Buffy pulled him to his feet with no apparent effort, sighing. "I suppose so," she conceded, rolling her eyes. 

*

A very angry Xander and the subdued rest of the Scoobies made their way back to Giles' apartment. 

"You have to do something about Buffy," Xander growled, bursting through the front door of Giles' home without even a ‘ hello ’.

"Oh?" he said mildly. "And what do you think I can make her do which I haven't failed to already? My eyesight is back now, by the way, thank you for asking."

"She-" he spat, pointing at Spike, who had his arm draped over Buffy’s shoulder, "is with that thing ."

"He is not a thing , Xander, unless Anya is also a thing, in which case you shouldn't be complaining about him, because you’re a hypocritical butt face!"  Buffy turned to Anya. "No offence, Anya."

"Oh, that's quite alright, Buffy. I'm trying to figure out if I should continue to pursue orgasms with him after his tirade about demons," she said thoughtfully. 

"You're breaking up with me?" spluttered Xander. 

"Well, if you can't accept Buffy’s relationship with Spike, even though he's reformed -" 

"Oi!" protested Spike. 

"-how are you ever going to accept me?" 

Giles blanched and looked between the couples in the room. "I was rather wondering when that would come up."

Spike rolled his eyes. 

"Look, Giles, everything aside; someone took our memories, and when Willow broke her spell they all came back. Spike is pretty sure it was Angel, but…" she looked at her watcher guiltily. 

"Me? You think I had something to do with this?" he said, hurt. 

"Just, what with my birthday-" 

"He what ?" roared Spike, lunging towards him. Buffy caught him just before he hit the floor, twitching and clutching his head from the chip firing. 

"I think I can protect my own virtue, don't you?" she asked him quietly, stroking his hair. 

"Not the point," he gritted out. "That wanker is - you love him like a father and he did that to you."

"And he apologised and got fired for being too attached-"

"Oh, and that makes it all better then," he said caustically. 

"No, it doesn't," interrupted Giles. "And I feel incredibly indebted to her for continuing to let me be part of her life," he said quietly. "I can never hope to make up for the betrayal. But I'm trying." He cleared his throat and took off his glasses to polish. "When did this memory theft occur?" 

"Just before Spike came back to Sunnydale and we got our SAT scores." Buffy noticed Spike's nose was bleeding. "Giles, do you have a tissue?" 

He hesitated for a moment but passed her his handkerchief anyway.

"Hit me as I drove into town; passed out and came to in my car on top of the Welcome to Sunnyhell sign."

"That was you?" Buffy scoffed, helping him onto the couch and handing him the handkerchief. "I should've known." She turned back to Giles and shrugged. "I was asleep, I didn't notice."

Willow nodded. “Me too.”

"And how far back was your memory affected?" 

"Mine is after the first day or so in LA after I sent Angel to hell. Bits after that have been sort of - changed - like, yeah, I did rescue all those people from hell, but I only found out because they knocked me out on my way home from work and kidnapped me." Spike growled and Buffy elbowed him. "It all ended up being ok."

"Not the point, I was this close-" he held up a thumb and index finger, "to not walking you home that night. And I was late to meet you." He sighed and rubbed his face. "Mine are messed with as well. After I left Sunnydale, Dru woke up about twenty minutes out of San Diego, damn near scratched my eyes out. After that it's all different. In the altered memories, I knocked her out again, chained her up, tossed her in the back and drove all the way to Nicaragua. Tortured her for a bit before I let her loose."

" Eww ," said Xander and Willow together, sporting equally disturbed faces. 

"Oi! It's what she likes, ok?" 

Buffy wrinkled her nose and nodded. "Yeah, vampires are weird." 

Anya nodded in agreement as well, and Xander threw her a disappointed look, which she pointedly ignored. 

"Angelus twisted and tortured her so badly before she was turned, the poor lamb doesn't know any other way to be happy. Anyway, that's not what happened." He checked his nose to see if it had stopped bleeding, and brushed the thought away with the blade of his hand. "What actually happened started out the same, 'cept Dru started screaming about how sunshine had swallowed me up and left her my ashes and such - damn near ran me off the road trying to get out of the car in broad daylight - because I wasn't her 'dark knight' any more. I knocked her out again and made it to Tijuana. Was looking for a place to hole up for the day when she woke up again, dove through my passenger window before I could stop her, and disappeared into the night. I’m still finding bloody glass in my baby, and I’ve had it detailed twice-”

“You get that thing cleaned?” asked Buffy sarcastically.

“Yes, of course-” he muttered irritatedly.

“Who by? Were they blind? I bet you there’s still fries under the seat from when I dropped them.”

Spike squinted irritatedly at her and continued his story, “I drove back toward Sunnyhell with the intention of killing the Slayer but ended up in LA, looking to pick up some goods that were -ah- " he looked sheepish for a moment, "owed to me. Saw the silly bint walking home from whatever crap place she was working at. Decided now was as good as any time to do in my third slayer."

"Except he couldn't because he was drunk-" interjected Buffy. 

"And after a while I realised the stupid bint didn't even have a stake on her-" 

"So we fought to a draw - he broke my arm in two places and dislocated my shoulder, and I almost disembowelled him with the pocket knife I had stashed in my uniform."

" And you broke my foot," he added, without heat. 

"And I broke his foot," she confirmed, nodding. "I limped off to where I was staying and left him there, because, LA? Not so full of pointy objects of the wooden persuasion. Not that I could have lifted my arm anyway." She cleared her throat. "By the time I got home-" 

"More like a hovel if you ask me," broke in Spike. 

Buffy glared at him. "All the adrenalin had worn off and I couldn't open the door or even pop my own shoulder back in place. Eventually, I decided that I should find someone to open the door for me, but everyone would probably try and take me to the hospital, or to the police, which would not be of the good, since I was trying to disappear."

"Eventually she came back to find out if I was still undusty, and took pity on a poor, defenceless, drunken vampire."

"That, and when he came round long enough to talk he started crying about how Dru had left him and it was all my fault. He was so pathetic that I couldn't stake him after that."

It was Spike's turn to glare. "I popped her shoulder back, she stuffed m' guts in and we bound them up best we could." 

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "It was so gross."

"Yeah, ew ," agreed Willow. 

Giles had a distinctly green hue about his person, Anya was listening in interest, and Xander had a sickened, disgusted look on his face that went deeper than the actual story being told.

"We ended up at my place; he set my arm and I did what I could with his foot. We both passed out for like… almost an entire day?" she asked, looking for confirmation from him. 

"Yeah, love." 

"I couldn't go back to work with a broken arm, and my shoulder wasn't healed yet, so I was stuck inside for, like a week and a bit, waiting to get better." She sighed, brushing her hair away from her face. "And for the bruises to fade." 

"'N I wasn't in a state to go anywhere for about as long, so we were cooped up together in her tin can-" 

"Hey!" said Buffy again, indignant. 

"Which had no threshold , mind you," he said, scowling at Giles and shaking an accusing finger. 

Giles looked faintly alarmed to be reprimanded about the safety of his slayer by a vampire. 

"Ugh! And you've complained about that already, mother !" groaned Buffy. 

"Anyone could have just walked in and eaten you, you stupid bint!" he growled. 

"Yeah right," she scoffed. 

“You have to sleep sometime!”

“There. was. a. lock. on. the. door! For the bajillionth time.” She turned to Giles. "Giles, please tell Spike he's overreacting!" she pleaded. 

"Er-" said Giles, looking pained and confused. "Spike, is-" he pressed his lips into a thin line in displeasure. Agreeing with William the Bloody? He knew he shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning, "-correct. It really was very irresponsible, Buffy."

"What was I supposed to do? Find a fledge and try to toss him through the door? I was running away, I didn't want to be the slayer any more!" yelled Buffy. 

"Oh, and that's a good excuse for having a complete disregard for your safety!" Spike roared back. 

Buffy cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. "We got to know each other, and mutual distrust turned into mutual irritation," she continued, ignoring him. "Which, can I just say- he leaves his gross socks on the damp bathroom floor and his wet towels on the bed! Who even does that?" 

"Oi! You take forty minute showers and don't leave a vamp any hot water! And you leave those bloody weird hairball spider things stuck to the tiles in the shower! Scared the bejesus out of me the first time I used it."

"Oh!" gasped Willow, "That was you?" 

Buffy scowled at Willow, "I forgot one time!" She looked back at Spike. "I wasn't expecting to have company, ok? And you , you leave all your hair products all over the bathroom counter. You don't even have a reflection, why do you need to do it there?"

"So I'm not allowed to use the sink if I don't have a reflection? Oh? Suddenly you're all racist against the reflection-deprived members of society! That's where all that tosh is supposed to live, anyway!" 

Buffy scoffed again, "Society? Vampires eat society! At least I put my hair and make-up stuff away and clean the counter! I have to send out a search and rescue mission for the tap after you're done with it!" 

Spike apparently had no rebuttal for that argument, so he moved on to another subject. " You ," he said, pointing a finger, "never put the bloody peanut butter away! There was always a crumby peanut butter knife on the sink just in case you wanted another sandwich-" Buffy opened her mouth to argue, but Spike barrelled on over the top of her, "Which you never did! You just went and got a new knife out of the draw! Every bloody time!" 

"Because you kept cleaning them before I could use them again! Or dumping them in the sink. I'm not using a knife that's been in cold, gross, soapy dishwater." 

"You two fight like an old married couple," snickered Willow, who had given up on being  confused and gone straight to being entertained. She stopped, however when both of them turned to glare at her. 

"You two are significantly more attractive than old people," added Anya helpfully. 

"Thank you?" Buffy said uncertainly, as Spike rolled his eyes. 

Giles, who had been watching the interplay between them with mild disbelief, started to laugh. 

Buffy blinked at him a few times. "Guys," she said, concerned, watching Giles crying with laughter and clutching at his sides, "I think we've broken Giles."

*

About twenty minutes later, Giles had finally laughed himself out and poured himself and Spike a drink (in what Buffy suspected, was a show of male solidarity.) That sucked; where was her drink? She was traumatised too; she’d even made out with Angel a few times because she couldn't remember being with Spike. Ew! He probably wanted it that way. Gross! 

Giles sipped his drink and readied his pen. "Willow, what was altered or missing in your memories?" 

"Um," quailed Willow, remembering how they'd gotten into this situation in the first place, "just - mainly Buffy telling me things about what happened when she was gone - oh! And she did tell me about Angel being back-" she broke off as Spike's growl filled the room.

"I'm sorry, ok? I didn't remember -" Buffy started guiltily. 

Spike sighed and leaned back on the couch, pinching his nose, "No, you're right, pet, can't really blame you for all that. Angel, on the other hand-" 

"I'm going to rip off something vital the next time I see him. I just-" she sighed, "I can't believe he'd do something like that."

"Thinks you're his property, doesn't he? The bastard probably thought he was doing it for your own good in his own bloody twisted way. That, and he'd be so happy he’d pulled one over on me." He huffed frustratedly and extracted himself from underneath Buffy. "Need a smoke, pet," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "Be back in ten." 

Buffy grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. "If you dust now that I've found you again, I'm going to resurrect you just so I can dust you again, ok?" 

Spike chuckled, pulling out a battered packet of Morley's from his pocket and tapping one out. "Love you too, pet." He smiled as Buffy’s face lit up, and stuck the cigarette between his lips. 

"You too, buttface," she said, poking out her tongue. 

"Careful what you do with that tongue, pet," he said with a smirk, "I'll put it to good use." He walked out the front door. 

Buffy blushed bright pink and giggled; Xander made gagging noises. "Oh, shut up, Xander, like you Anya are any better," she snapped, nearing the end of her rope with him. 

"Yeah, Xander, Buffy’s never interfered with your dating choices, even when they've tried to kill you," piped up Willow.

"Or her, for that matter," muttered Giles, looking thoroughly uncomfortable to be defending Spike, of all people. The smile that lit his slayer’s face almost made it worth it, though. 

"Buffy told me about Angel being at the mansion before you guys found out,” Willow cut in. ”She said she was only keeping him a secret because he’d promised to leave Sunnydale and not come back once he was strong enough to leave. She said she knew you guys would be angry, and didn't want to bring back all those memories, so she didn't say anything."

"Obviously he broke that promise when he found out about Spike and I, and royally screwed over all three of us," said Buffy angrily. Then caught the look of betrayal on Giles’s face. "You know Spike's the only reason you made it out of the mansion in one piece, don't you?" she asked.

“This again! I got Giles out of the mansion, Spike had nothing to do with it!” railed a very angry Xander.

Buffy rolled her eyes at him. “You do remember Angelus fondling a chainsaw, right?” she asked Giles.

His eyes clouded for a moment. “And then he-” he frowned, looking down into his hands. “Drusilla, she made me see...Jenny.” He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment.

The silence was absolute, broken only by Spike entering the front door after his smoke. He looked apologetically at Giles. “Sorry, mate, deal was I get you out in one piece, help defeat Angelus, and Slayer would let Dru and I leave town unimpeded. Couldn’t think of anything else to keep you whole at the time. The alternative-" he paused and glanced at Buffy, "wouldn't have been pretty.”

"I-" said Giles slowly, "ah, it appears that I-I owe you a debt of gratitude."

"Don't choke on it, Rupes," he said, smiling. "Had selfish reasons for savin' your hide; wasn't looking to earn any favours apart from what I'd asked for."

"Well-" said Giles, relieved. 

"Wouldn't say no to another Glenfiddich if you're feeling generous though, mate."

Giles sighed the sigh of the long suffering, but pulled the bottle out of the cabinet anyway and topped up their glasses. "So you've been in a relationship with Buffy for-" 

"Over a year--about a year and a half really, not including the part where we weren't aware of it."

"Buffy," asked Willow, "weren't you only away for the summer?" 

"That hell portal I mentioned? Well, we were there for a bit longer than whoever altered our memories seemed to think." 

Spike sighed, "Stop beating around the bush, pet. Days were a bit longer over there, and near as we can tell, we were in hell for twenty-five-ish minutes."

"But that's--that's not very long at all-" started Willow.

"One day here is about sixty years over there."

Buffy watched the math work itself out on Willow's face. "One-" she frowned, "One year and two weeks. How come you didn't come back sooner?"

"Portal closed." Buffy waved a hand. "And there were still-" she cocked her head, thinking. " Gosh - hundreds of people enslaved. It also took almost that long to find someone skilled enough to open it up again to the right place."

"Oh," said Willow, looking subdued.

No one seemed to know what to say about that, and the new/old couple didn't offer any more explanation, so after a few minutes of silence, the subject changed. "This spell-" started Giles. 

"I'm sorry, ok? I thought I could just make Oz come back because it hurt so much. I didn't mean for the blindness and demonness to happen." She pursed her lips. "But at least it wasn't all bad, right? We never would have known anything about the- the whole memory stealingness if I hadn't done the spell in the first place."

Giles glared, and got up from the sofa, crossing to the pile of references on his dining table. "No, things could have gone much, much worse." He traced an index finger down one of the pages open in front of him. "For instance, what if you'd mucked up the actual reversal specific to 'My Will Be Done'? You could have weakened the fabric of magic stopping the hellmouth from being opened by every man and his dog! Do you realise what you could have done ? Magic is not a plaything! It cannot be treated as such. Performing magic with selfish intentions rarely works correctly for good reason!" He pursed his lips, a thin white line forming. "We do not pull magics from unknown sources and we do not use magic for personal gain, because there will be consequences. If not now, then later. And they are always much worse."

"Hear, hear," muttered Spike. 

"What do you mean, unknown sources? That was my magic. And don't even pretend you know about consequences, Mr cast-me-a-love-spell-or-I'll-jam-this-bottle-in-your-skull." 

"Oi! Paid a pretty penny for that, didn't I? Slayer soundly kicked my ass, and if I'm remembering correctly, you two paid the cost with your significant others, yeah?" 

"But we didn't even do any magic!?" 

"Universe knows about that sort of thing, doesn't it? It's all connected, one way or another. 'Sides, consequences kicked in almost immediately when I healed Dru, was in a wheelchair for months. Almost as weak as she was in the beginning."

"Does that make me the hand of Karma or something?" asked Buffy thoughtfully. 

Spike gave her a half hearted frown. "Or something."

Buffy huffed, "Speaking of magic, Willow, Giles would know; remember Halloween and Band Candy?" 

Giles cleared his throat. "The power you channeled for this spell did it feel like the magic you used trying to float pencils in the library, or did it feel more like when you performed Angelus' curse?" 

Spike went still beside her. "The littlest witch cursed Angelus?" he hissed at Buffy in disbelief. 

"I thought I told you that?" she whispered back. 

"W-well, neither really," conceded Willow hesitantly. 

"No you bloody well didn't-" he whisper-accused. 

"Who do you think did it then? Jenny was - um - not there." 

"Assumed you got a real witch from some tosser approved list somewhere."

"We didn't have time."

"Ahem," interjected Giles from across the room, looking both pained and irritated. 

"What's that, then Ripper?" grinned Spike. 

The Ripper in question glared at him in frustration before turning back to a sheepish-looking Willow. "It is immensely important you use your own or that of the earth’s magic when casting magics, lest you fall into the - er - mistakes I did in my youth.” 

"Right, because that way lies orgies and Eyghon-" started Willow. 

Both Spike and Giles choked on their drinks. 

"And having sex with my Mom on top of a police car, twice. " Buffy grinned at the continued spluttering, of which now Xander had joined in, and turned to Willow. "Don't do dark magics, Will. Badness ensues."

Willow looked at Buffy with wide eyes and nodded energetically. "No more borrowed magics for this witch, Buffy, I swear." She got a sparkling look in her eyes for a moment. "Wasn't there only like, one woman in Ripper’s gang, Buffy? I mean, I get people do that sort of thing, but Giles ?" 

Buffy gave Willow a lopsided grin. "And Ethan. Whatever floats your-" 

"Please, I beg of you to stop," Giles said desperately. 

Both Buffy and Willow dissolved into giggles. 

"Stevedores, lusty, virile and strong, eh mate?" asked Spike with a smile. 

"Dear lord," muttered Giles into his hands.

"No God here, mate, just us demons."

Giles thunked his head on the table. 

*

Buffy executed the tried and true method of slayer entrances. 

The doors to Angel's office exploded inwards under her kick, splintering bits of door everywhere and cracking the plaster around the door frame. "Angelus," she said coldly, eyeing him with disdain. 

"Angelus?!" screeched Cordelia, ducking behind the counter. 

The vampire in question looked startled for a moment, but then his features settled on disappointment - until Spike, leading the Scoobies, entered behind her. Then they turned into hate, outright loathing, his eyes flashed yellow and he growled in warning. 

"How. Fucking. Dare. You." Buffy punctuated her words with the blunt side of her stake, hitting him squarely over the heart and making him draw back from her in shock. 

"I should stake you." Buffy’s voice shook with fury. "You violated me! Took my memories! Raped my mind! I was over you and had moved on to someone else! But no, the mighty Angelus couldn't stand to be upstaged by his grandchilde, could you?" 

"Buffy--what do you mean? I could never! Whatever's going on, Spike has to be behind it!" 

Buffy scoffed. 

"Save it, dead boy, looks like that slippery soul of yours doesn't work as well as you'd have us believe."

Spike looked startled at Xander's admission, who looked at him sheepishly. "Well, if there has to be a vampire involved, at least you aren't him." 

"Backhanded compliment, much? Newsflash, Angel, a sword through the guts means the relationship is over . Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Don't make me search for an interesting place to hide my stake, because you aren't going to like the one I find."

"He might though, pet. Ol'e Angelus is twisted like that." 

"You're mine, Buffy! How could you let this thing touch you? I should -" 

Buffy’s face turned to stone, eyes cold as ice. "You touch him again and I'll rip your intestines out through your ass and beat you to death with your own arms."

"Aga-?" His face turned into a cruel sneer. "Been whining about the old days, have we, Willy?" He advanced on Spike and slid a stake out of his pocket. 

Buffy moved faster than Spike had ever seen her; one moment Angel was advancing on him with a stake, the next he’d given a yell and was curled up on the floor moaning, bleeding from some unknown place. A tinkling noise met his ears, and he watched on in confusion as the Gem of Amara rolled across the floor towards the door. 

"Oh, ew, Angel," said Buffy, now standing next to him and wiping the dagger that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It disappeared back to wherever it had appeared from a few moments later.  

His beautiful , deadly slayer, how had he possibly forgotten? 

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I feel the same way."

Spike knelt down to pick up the ring, but Buffy stopped him, screwing up her nose. "Maybe use this," she said, holding up the rag she'd been using to clean her dagger.

He looked between Buffy and the hulking form of his grandsire still curled up on the floor, a dark stain starting to spread over the seat of his pants. 

Xander apparently figured it out at the same time as he did, and the boy stared at her with a mixture of fear and hero worship. 

"Well, no one's going to be making him happy anytime soon," he said happily. 

"Well, hopefully ever," answered Buffy acidly. 

"Oh my God. Buffy, tell me you didn't." 

"I didn't," she deadpanned, flashed a grin at Willow, and turned back to hiss at Angel. "If you pull anything like that again, I'll be back to take the rest," she growled, low and threatening. 

"Fuck I love you, Slayer."

Buffy grinned and took off at a run, "Last one to the car gets to wash the sheets when we get home!" 

"Buffy! Ew!" 

"Oi! No fair, Slayer!" Spike yelled, taking off after her, wearing his own answering grin. 

"Hey! We drove with you! Wait up!" 

*

Faith looked down from the ceiling, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. 

"You and me, kid," said a dark-haired man standing beside her bed, "we've got some work to do." 

Something tingled on her spine and she craned her stiff neck to look around her visitor. 

"Didn't know they made vampires that pretty," she rasped.  

The vampire in question laughed and stuck out his hand. "Name's Lawson, miss, Sam Lawson."

"Hello, Lawson, Sam Lawson." She shook his hand weakly. "You might have to be the most polite vampire I've ever met."

He grinned lopsidedly and looked at the other man. 

"Name's Doyle," said Doyle. 

"Uh huh, and I'm guessing you guys aren't from the Mayor's office."

"No, miss," said Lawson. 

"Did Buffy send you?" 

"Nope, powers sent me a vision, showing me what could happen if you aren't offered another path," said Doyle calmly. 

"Riiiight. And what have the powers ever done for me?" 

"Woke you up, for one thing; the Watchers Council were about to 'retire'-" he mimed air quotations with his fingers- "you so they could get a new, perky slayer that follows directions, seeing as how the old one's gotten herself hitched in the 'immortally unbreakable' sort of way and isn't playing by their rules anymore." 

Faith snorted and winced at her scar twinging as she did so. "So I take it Angel pulled through then."

"Aah-" started Doyle as Lawson fought valiantly to stop laughing. 

"Angel may have had a slayer - uh -" Lawson finally lost the will to keep quiet and burst into laughter, "- a slayer-induced incident recently. Angel may have stolen a year's worth of Spike and Buffy’s memories in which they were a couple."

"They- what? Damn, B's got a type, huh." 

"Er-" Doyle rubbed the back of his neck. "Buffy has a Slayer type, actually," he said as Faith sat up in bed and started eyeing Lawson hungrily despite herself. 

"Really?" Faith said interestedly. 

Doyle sighed, looking between them. "Yeah."

Faith looked Lawson up and down. "You got a soul in there, vampman?" 

"Not near as I can tell, ma'am. Think it went missing about the time-" 

Doyle stumbled, grabbed his head with one hand, blinked twice, and threw a bag at Faith. "Get dressed; the Watchers are in the lobby. Sam, find us a way out."

"Yes sir," he said, not missing a beat, and strode out of the room. 

"Don't-" Doyle said to his retreating back, sighing, "call me sir."

"Yeah, and you can tell they're here, how?" 

"Vision. Hurry up."

*

They ended up leaving through the basement, Faith in a blond wig, white lace shirt, and beige capris that she'd never ever have chosen for herself. "You dressed me up to look like B!" she hissed as they skirted an oblivious maintenance worker. 

"Better that than gettin' your brain all over the walls, sweetheart." 

Faith glared at him, but subsided after a moment, sidling up to Sam. "What's your story?" 

His eyes flicked to Doyle for a moment. "Got turned in the service. Something must have stuck because I've been looking for a mission ever since. Six weeks ago, a smelly man in a fedora found me in Michigan and offered me a chance to make a difference, met Doyle-" he flicked his thumb towards him, "four weeks later and, well," he shrugged, "here I am." 

They walked on for a few minutes in silence, slinking their way to freedom. 

"So what happened to Angel?" 

"The other Slayer? She wasn't happy, she uh- made sure no one could make him perfectly happy ever again." Sam looked at her pointedly. 

"Oh- oh . Good for B, ya know? I mean I hate the bitch, but, good for her. Maybe she'll have that stick removed from her ass one day."

Sam nodded noncommittally and kept moving. 

"So- was it like a ken doll situation, or….?" 

Both men shuddered, and Doyle answered with a terse, “ You'll have to ask Cordy, she was there .” 

Sam motioned them to stay behind him for a moment as they approached a tweed-wearing Council flunky guarding the exit to the maintenance tunnel. Sam hid them in a nook behind some heating vents and strode out of cover, game face crunching into being as he did so. 

"Never eaten a librarian before," he lisped through his fangs. 

"Back, foul beast!" yelled the terrified Watcher, shaking a cross in Sam's unimpressed face. Sam casually batted the offending item away with the corner of his shirt sleeve, grabbed the guy by the throat, and hoisted him off the floor. "Wonder what biblichor tastes like?" He licked his fangs, but his next threat was lost as the watcher simultaneously wet himself and lost consciousness. Sam dropped the watcher in distaste and turned back to the confused duo behind him. 

"Biblichor? Really?" asked Faith good naturedly. 

"The smell of old books - librarian, because of the tweed? Get it?" His demon looked lost, and Faith had to bite her tongue to stop from telling him it was fine. "I just," he sighed, switching out of game face, "I'm not good at this whole big bad thing."

Faith nudged him with her shoulder. "I'm not particularly good at being a white hat; maybe we can figure something out?"

Behind them, Doyle sighed to himself. "Looks like I've got some work to do." He looked irritatedly up at the ceiling, "Jeez, thanks for that, guys."

*

"Do you think Cordy and Doyle will be alright with Faith in LA?” They'd been down a teammate ever since Angel took off to some monastery somewhere. “Since Angel's gone to 'find himself' now that he's-” 

Spike snorted. 

“Less than he was?" 

"I'm sure the cheerleader will have them all straightened out in no time, pet, I wouldn't worry." He slunk towards her like the big, dangerous cat that he was, pushing his hands under and around her thighs, spreading her apart and baring her glistening sex to his talented tongue. "You just worry about this pretty little pussy right-" he gave her a long lick that made her whole body shiver and her toes curl- “here.” He raised himself up so they were chest to chest. “And my cock, right... here.” Agonisingly slowly, he pushed himself inside her, ignoring her heels on his ass urging him to go faster. “All good things come to Slayers who wait, pet.”

“Don’t tell me this is how you did in your other slayers,” Buffy gasped. “That would make for a very cranky Buffy.”

“All for you; never touch any other woman again if I have any say in it. Now stop trying to take over and just let yourself go for a minute, you silly bint.” 

Buffy glared at him for a moment in annoyance, but slowly untensed herself. Spike sighed the sigh of the long suffering with good humor and gave her a dopey smile. He leaned back and raised one of her legs over his shoulder, letting the other drop down and out to the side, exposing them both to the low light of the room. 

Buffy let them rock together for a few minutes before tensing up again. 

“Pet, you’re doing it again.” 

She humphed and tried to relax. “But you’re not…”

He flashed a wicked smirk at her. “Not what?” he said, tongue behind his front teeth.

“You aren’t touch-”

“What, like this?” he said, suddenly picking up the pace and rubbing just where she wanted.

“Ah! Like tha-” Her whole body tensed up. “Oh sh-”

“Oh fuck, Buffy,” he grunted, pumping frenetically into her body. Buffy grabbed at his hair, giving him a sloppy kiss before finding his neck with her mouth, licking and sucking at her mark there and finally sinking her teeth into it.

He gave a feral roar, vamping out and digging his claws into her shoulders, pulling her tighter against him as he lost all his rhythm and spent himself inside her. He buried his fangs into her shoulder and sent her over the edge too.

They both lay there panting and sated for a good while, until Buffy finally registered the lukewarm semen dripping down the inside of her thigh and making its way into her butt crack. 

Spike removed his fangs from her shoulder, giving it a few swipes with his tongue before sighing happily and pushing himself off her. “My Slayer,” he rumbled.

“My Vampire, you dork. And you know that's not even how it works.”

He shrugged. “Makes the demon happy.” He switched out of game face.

Buffy rolled towards him and caressed his face with a soft smile. “What about William?”

“Who cares what that tosser thinks?” he said ruefully, breaking eye contact.

“I care, doofus. So tell me.”

He sighed, turning his face into the pillow so she couldn’t see him. “Sod never imagined a woman such as you could love someone as lowly as me, much less be bonded the way we are. Bloody berk is like to start composing poetry about the lustre of your hair and how it shines in the sunlight.” He turned his face back to see her still smiling at him. 

“You’ll have to let him sometime; I mean, I’m not all poetry-girl, but something written about me? I could definitely appreciate that for the gift it would be.”

“You’d appreciate the laugh it gave you, pet. The blighter is bloody terrible,” he said, jaw clenching uncomfortably.

“Why do you talk about him like that? He’s part of you. I’m not embarrassed by him. Besides, what woman wouldn’t want a sexy Victorian vampire poet writing about her?”

“Yeah?” he said, hope suddenly lighting his face.

“Yes, of course.”

Tilting his head, he searched her face for a moment, grinned, and sprang off the bed for some paper and a pen.

“This doesn't get you out of washing the sheets, you know!” she called after him, smiling.

A groan came from the direction of the study and she sighed happily, relaxing into the bedding, luxuriating in the soft, fluffy pillows and high thread count sheets.

This was how life was meant to be, just her and her vampire. 

The phone in the kitchen rang. 

“Summers-Pratt household… I’ll get her mate.”

Oh yeah, and apocalypses.