[A/N: Don’t worry, I’m going to get to all the juicy stuff soon, oh, and yeah, there will be some sex also. The title comes from the poem in the last chapter (here I go again re-using sources; but this time I paraphrased it a bit. Quotes as attributed, and everything belongs to someone other than me, except for the plot, that’s all mine]
Previously: Normal life goes on in Sunnydale, almost like the calm before a storm. Oz has found his way to the house on Revello Drive.
Book Two, chapter 2. Clutcthing stardust
Any idiot can face a crisis – its day to day living that wears you out.
Anton Chekov
Unbeing dead is not being alive.
e. e. cummings
Life is easier than you’d think;
all that is necessary is to accept the impossible,
do without the indispensible,
and bear the intolerable.
Kathleen Norris
Filling Oz in on what had been going on since his departure had left the werewolf more than a little confused. But, in typical fashion, he’d just taken it all in stride without commenting on any of it.
During the course of dinner, Oz discovered what had happened to Faith, learned about the arrival and subsequent departure of Riley (at least more than he’d known before); about Dawn and Glory. Hearing about Joyce had made a small frown appear on his face, but hearing about Buffy’s death and Willow’s part in her return had disturbed him nearly as much as it had the others. And now, Spike was living here, openly part of a couple with Buffy. But for Oz, the really wiggy part of the whole evening was discovering how much he actually liked Tara.
There hadn’t been much opportunity for bonding during his last visit, hadn’t been much desire for it either. He’d watched her while they ate, seeing how comfortable everyone was, how much they were a family unit. Tara was the glue that held them together. He liked that, could appreciate it even.
And found himself wishing it wasn’t time to go when dinner was done and Buffy and Spike were getting ready to patrol.
Which kind of explained how he and Tara ended up talking most of the night, until it was nearly one in the morning, and why Buffy invited him to sleep on the couch when they’d gotten in a few minutes later.
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They still hadn’t been able to dispatch the Cwn Annwn, though the nightly attacks had begun to dwindle. The number of bodies had dropped also, down to one or two per attack, nstead of the four or five previously.
Further research was another reason Giles was returning to England and despite Buffy’s protestations otherwise, Giles knew he had to go.
Besides, it wasn’t a permanent move. This was just, at least in his eyes, a fact finding trip. The Council wanted a report from him and he needed information from them. Unfortunately his list probably exceeded theirs by about five. Wesley had requested Giles scan the library for vampire pregnancies, which Spike had seconded, then there was the Cwn Annwn and Willow’s ritual and . . . . he needed also, to know what, if anything, the Council knew about the monks.
What he’d read so far convinced him that the monks had predated Christianity by at least a millennia, subverting themselves by allowing their absorption into the Church for protection during the Middle Ages – when the Inquisition was in full swing. The order had been formed, or so it seemed, for one purpose, to guard the Key and the gates from Glorificus and any other being with enough power and hubris to try wielding the Key.
Though the Council had stated they’d shared what information they possessed, Giles was not convinced of their honesty, which was why he had no intention of revealing everything he needed information about.
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Oz woke to the sound of slightly raised voices. It sounded like Spike and Dawn were going at it in the kitchen. Unable to fall back asleep, Oz listened, getting an idea about how close they were. They sounded like any parent and child discussing dates, which was kind of weird, considering Spike wasn’t Dawn’s father.
“Told you, wasn’t going to say yea or nay wi’ out meetin’ the boy.”
Something landed hard on a counter and Oz winced at the pitch of Dawn’s voice. “Why do you have to? Its not like I’m gonna marry the guy. Its just homecoming.”
“Dawn, what’s his name?” It was hard to miss Spike’s exasperation with the teenager.
“Casey.”
There was silence then a sigh, and the girl spoke again. “Fine. I’ll do it. But no going all ggggrrrrr on me okay?”
“Let you know about that.”
And apparently the conversation was over, because silence once again reigned. Oz rolled over and went back to sleep.
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They took turns getting up in the morning, making sure Dawn got up in time for school, and this morning it had been his turn. Dawn had ambushed him about homecoming once she was dressed and ready to go, telling him only that the boy she wanted to ask her had.
Trudging back up the stairs to curl in beside Buffy, Spike ran a hand through his hair. He knew what Dawn was up too, it was fairly obvious. With his approval it would be that much easier to get Buffy to agree, but he wasn’t going to cave on this issue. Spike was adamant about meeting the snot first and if he made it through his ridiculously long check list, Spike would allow her to go.
Sitting on the side of the bed, Spike untied his boots, dropping them heavily on the floor, trying but not to wake Buffy. She stirred, moving under the blankets but didn’t wake up. Sliding off his jeans, Spike lifted the cotton sheet and blanket off her. Flesh colored lace with a faint tinge of lilac barely covered her rounded butt cheeks.
He grinned at the sight, his fingers grazing across the slope of her upper thigh, whisking over each globe. Buffy shifted one leg, bending it upwards, lifting her ass in the air. Spike took it for an unconscious invitation. Playing his fingers gently over her skin, Spike allowed his other hand to push up the scrap of lace she dared to call a nightgown. It barely covered her, leaving little for his imagination, constructed of two thin strips of ribbon and nothing but lace, it was one of his favorite articles of her clothing.
Moving closer to her, Spike grinned as she moved into him, her face turning toward him. Barely there touches grazed her from behind, raising gooseflesh all over her back. Her legs twitched, her mound pressing against the mattress, a tiny whimper escaping her throat. His grin widened. Teasing both of them he ran his fingers over her softly, slowly, his fingers moving ever closer to her molten core. She was liquid fire, especially there, burning hot. Buffy’s hips shifted again quivering under his touch. The whimper morphed into a soft whine as she swam toward waking.
Spike wiggled two fingers around her center “god kitten. . . so wet. . . “
His words breathed across her shoulder, answered by her murmur. “Open up for me love, let me in. . . “
Shifting a bit so he was looming over her, his mouth by her ear, he rumbled her name deep in his chest. “Buffy.”
Sleepily she responded to his intimate touch, her eyes drifting open as he slowly, almost lazily thrust his fingers inside her. Her eyes opened, his name escaping from her lips, seeking his.
“Mmmm. . . There she is. . . my sweet one.”
Buffy gasped into the pillow beneath her, arching her bottom into the air, writhing slowly with each thrust. “Spike,” she practically moaned his name as he knelt between her thighs, his hand lifting her.
“Want you . . . want to be inside you . . . gonna let me in?” He leaned over her back, his words spoken against lace covered skin interspersed with nipping kisses. “C’mon beautiful girl . . . “
“Spike . . . please.” She was barely awake, sensations drowning her, his touch igniting her from the inside.
Still using only his fingers, Spike brought her to the edge, drawing her back as he raked his fingers from her warmth. Buffy’s hips were churning, seeking friction, penetration . . . something. . . “please Spike. . . “
Pulling her back over his legs, Spike opened his knees, spreading her legs apart. His cock nudged at her from behind, making her whimper with need. His strong hands held her still, lifting her onto his hard length.
His name hissed in the air, ending in a half shriek as he slid all the way inside her. “Spike. Oh god. . . oh. . . “
The grunts in her ear were driving her insane, his voice repeating her name over and over as he drove into her from behind, filling her up, hitting . . “oh god, Spike . . . please. . . need . . to. . “
Buffy grabbed the iron bars in front of her holding on. He was pounding into her now, hard and fast and “Spike. . . oh. . . “
A deep growl sounded from her throat surprising him into stilling his movements. A breathless chuckle sounded in her ear as he nibbled on the nape of her neck.
“Love . . . “ he thrust hard, “come with me.”
“So . . . god kitten. . . love you.” Slow, hard grind of his pelvis into hers.
She writhed against him, seeking more, “please . . . now. . . Spike.”
“Buffy . . . love you . . . beautiful girl. . . “ Thrusting hard and fast again, Spike lost all pretense of control when her inner muscles constricted around him.
His blunt teeth bit down hard on that spot where her neck met her shoulder and Buffy groaned in response. “Spike . . . wanna see you. . . “
Growling low in his throat, Spike slid from her depths, and she rolled over to face him. Spike’s mouth was on hers instantly, their tongues battling against each other, his hard length sliding into her again. Wrapping around, her arms encircled his neck, holding on tight.
“Look at me kitten.”
“Oh god. . . oh god . . . Spike. . . need you. . . want. . “ For nce, Buffy was nearly as vocal as he was.
.
Her eyes never leaving his, Buffy bore down, convulsing around him. Staring into each other’s eyes, they exploded together. His whispered words echoed around her, “love you so much Buffy.”
Sliding down sideways onto the mattress, Spike lifted her hip over his, pulling her against his chest. “So much.”
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Oz woke up for good sometime mid-morning to find the house quiet again. There was a note on top of his clothing from Tara. Reading it, he finally understood what had attracted Willow to Tara. She wasn’t the hottest looking girl around, but looks weren’t much really if you weren’t a beautiful person underneath. And Tara was.
There were homemade muffins and fresh coffee in the kitchen. All he had to do was turn the coffeemaker on.
Wandering into the kitchen he found everything where the note said it would be. She’s really thoughtful, kind, caring. I get it now, with Willow. Tara was not safe, but comforting. Something about her just drew the other person in, making the other person feel terribly important.
The phone ringing pulled him from his reverie and he thought about answering it, but he didn’t want to overstep his bounds. Didn’t really matter, because it stopped after three rings and the answering machine didn’t pick up, so he assumed that either Buffy or Spike had answered. Ten minutes later feet pounded down the stairs and Oz wasn’t surprised when a slightly disheveled Spike entered the kitchen.
“Hey.”
“Mornin’” moving toward the refrigerator, Spike motioned to the coffee pot, “how much is in there?”
“Dunno. Tara set it up.” Oz watched him pour some blood into a mug then pop it into the microwave.
“Right, should be enough for all of us.” Waiting a beat, Spike asked, “sleep all right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good then.”
They stayed in comfortable silence until Buffy made her way downstairs, water dripping from her almost dry hair.
She smiled in appreciation when Spike handed her a mug of coffee, exclaiming, “ooh, caffeine-y goodness.”
Spike rolled his eyes, hiding his grin at her good mood behind is own cup, figuring now was as good a time as any, he mentioned Dawn’s impending date, then watched his girl panic.
“What?” Huffing a bit, she said, “a world of no. She’s not ready . . . no. I’m not ready.” Blowing cool air across the surface of her mug, Buffy said. “No. So not ready for this – does she have to?”
“Bit wants to go. She’s bringing him round so we can meet ‘im.”
Buffy made a face, thinking about this. “Spike, she’s too young.”
“She’s fifteen. ‘s not too young.” Spike waited for her to get to the point on her own.
She huffed again, giving in before his steady gaze. “All right. We’ll meet him.” Grabbing one of the muffins, Buffy turned her attention to Oz, asking, “did you sleep okay?”
“Yep.”
“We’re headed to Giles’. He’s going to England today. You need a ride?”
“That’s cool. You can drop me near campus.”
Spike locked the back door then rinsed out his bloody mug and headed for the stairs, saying, “car should be unlocked but check before I run out there.”
Buffy went out the front door, opened the driver’s side of the DeSoto, then ran back into the house. Oz followed out the door, watching their crazy ritual. Every window on the DeSoto was blacked out, with bare strips in the windshield and on the side and rear windows, so that Spike could see out the mirrors.
Spike dashed out the door, covered in a dark blanket, hit the seat and slammed the driver’s door behind him. Buffy giggled a bit at Oz’ expression, saying, “its an adventure” as she locked the front door behind them.
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Xander was running himself ragged. Between his job, planning the wedding – that was still a secret – with Anya, and now trying to spend time with Willow, he didn’t know if he was coming or going.
And he didn’t know if it was his imagination, or just the weirdness of life in Sunnydale but it felt like stuff was going on around him that he just didn’t understand. Stuff with Willow, coz she was just getting more and more un-Willowy. She was talking to Amy – Amy the rat and sometimes he thought she expected an answer. And Willow was always reading, okay, so that wasn’t really unusual, but he wasn’t so sure about what she was reading.
A couple of times he’d picked up special packages for her and the return address labels kind of spooked him – like this last one that was sitting in his car – was from Haiti and well, he didn’t think she knew anyone from there. . . And didn’t they practice Voodoo down there?
He just wasn’t sure what she was up too . . And he was kind of concerned, but he really wasn’t sure there was anyone he could talk to about all this – coz, well, he’d only seen Buffy a couple of times since they threw Willow out and Spike was always with her and he still didn’t trust the guy.
Anya didn’t want to hear about Willow either, or rather she was so focused on their wedding and Giles leaving that he just couldn’t talk to her about it.
In fact, he was finding it hard to talk to Anya at all.
He wished he had someone to talk to, because all this was just confusing him too much.
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Buffy watched as Giles walked toward the boarding area, her hands clenched together in front of her, a pained expression on her face.
Spike wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin resting on her head. “He’s comin’ back. Only goin’ for a month or so.”
“Is he?” Her voice was papery-thin and bleak.
“Said he was. Got no reason to doubt him.” He pulled her closer, his arms tight around hers. Buffy relaxed into his embrace gathering strength from his proximity.
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” She sighed but didn’t move at all, just basking in his nearness. Tilting her head to the side, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Have I thanked you yet?”
“For what?” She had his attention now.
“Everything you do for me. And Dawn.” Buffy turned slightly in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. “Dunno how I would’ve managed. Don’t think it would’ve been pretty.”
“You’d’ve figured somethin’ out pet.” He kissed the end of her nose, saying, “c’mon Slayer, I’ve got to go to work. Demon girl’s looking for a night of girl stuff.”
They headed out of the airport, toward the dark parking garage, not knowing about the wispy redhead following them.
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She was meeting Casey at five and then together they were going into the Magic Box so Spike could meet him. That meant she had an hour to get into Giles’ and find some new journals. This time she was going to be very specific about what she took.
Dawn was done with taking chances. She needed to know. Sooner rather than later.
Unlocking the door, Dawn cautiously let herself into the apartment. She loved it here, it always smelled so good. But she supposed that was because Giles always had good things around him. Old books, good tea and not so stinky cologne, not like some other men.
Would’ve been hard not to miss the books, but since there were so many Giles had put them into a steamer trunk. The trunk was against the inner wall, close to the television, but far enough away from the window so that no one would notice them.
Kneeling down on the floor, Dawn quickly opened the trunk, pulling out volumes, sorting them by language and year, she rapidly found four fairly current volumes, but not the last one – the one she needed the most. Spying a small one nearly at the bottom of the pile, Dawn grabbed it. Opening it up, she glanced at a random page and stopped.
Blinking a couple of times, she went back to it.
Her sister’s name stared back at her and the date on the entry was Halloween two years ago. Snapping it closed, Dawn grabbed the others, stuffing them into her backpack. Shoving the rest of the books back into the trunk, Dawn had to force herself to calm down. Gulping in deep breaths, she finally calmed herself enough to stack the journals exactly as they’d been.
Locking up behind her, Dawn set off to meet Casey and after that to brave the lion’s den.
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