elisi | Because Cavemen Have Fire. Chapter 6.

Well it so happens that I found a little time now... and since this is done I thought I might just as well post it as soon as I could! Because I'm dying to share - this is probably my favourite chapter out of all of them (only one more to go!), and I'm very pleased with it! :)

The icon is by

earth_vexer who posted a load of utterly gorgeous icons a few days ago and I just fell in love with this one.

Hugs for my beta

kathyh! She of the clever head!

Previous parts here for those catching up.

And I have to mention my beautful new banner by

uglybusiness again - because OMG pretty!

Feedback will treasured beyond measure! For this chapter particularly! So please?

Chapter 6

It started out as just another evening... Buffy came home from her Thursday training with the newest Slayers and headed straight for the shower as usual. Unsure if she wanted to get dressed (= going out slaying) or put on her pyjamas (= staying in playing), she slipped into her dressing gown and went to see what Spike and Angel were up to. Angel was still deep in research mode, but Spike had given up and was flicking between TV channels. They both perked up considerably when they saw her, and soon they were all three on the sofa pretending to watch TV. In reality Angel was trying to convince her to get out of the dressing gown, and she was pointing out that she’d get cold and he’d have to find far better arguments than ‘Because you’re prettier without it’.

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. “For Christ’s sake, stop being so delicate Angel!” And with a grin he jumped on top of her, his legs pinning her down.

“Spike! No!” she squealed, resolved not to give in and holding on tightly to the hems, as he in turn grabbed hold of the gown and determinedly tried to pull it off.

And then time froze.

He was staring into her eyes, absolute terror on his face, and she could suddenly feel her heart beating far too loudly.

Then he let go of her; slowly, slowly moving backwards, his eyes huge.

“I’m sorry...” he whispered. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean...”

After a swift look around, taking in Angel’s confused but suspicious face, he shook his head.

“I can’t... This - isn’t working.”

Before she could react he’d grabbed his coat and disappeared out the door.

“Spike!” she yelled, but was held back by Angel’s hand on her arm.

“Buffy - what the hell just happened?”

“It - it doesn’t matter.” She freed herself and then realised that she wasn’t wearing any proper clothes. She turned to Angel: “Go after him! Bring him back!”

He watched her uncertainly, but she said “Go!” in a voice that brooked no arguments, and then he too was out the door.

******

Spike was running - faster than he could ever remember, almost flying over the ground. Streets full of tall Edwardian terraced houses went past in a blur, their windows twinkling with Christmas decorations and flanked by parked cars, bumper to bumper, that he jumped over in two steps. Soon he had reached the local high street with its darkened shops, the obligatory desolate teen crowd and litter strewn pavements. He stopped for a second, then turned towards the Underground station. Get away far and fast. His body and mind were still reeling with shock, unable to process what had happened clearly...

He knew he hadn’t hurt her. Knew that she hadn’t even made the connection until he pulled away - that it really had been just a game. But...

It had felt the same.

Two and a half years he’d tried to repress those goddam memories, the white tiles, the way she screamed, the tears in her eyes, and then suddenly-

His body holding her down, his hands pulling at soft cotton covering her almost-naked body, her limbs struggling, trying to fight him off-

He stopped again at the top of the stairs leading down underground - shaking, and with tears burning behind his eyes. He could still feel her, the sensory memories so vivid it felt like they were scalding him. And the well of emotions that was flooding him was more than recollection. Hope and despair had been akin that day, uncoiling under his hands, and they were wrapping their tendrils around him now, almost paralysing him. Standing motionless he could sense Angel following, and he kept still for another second, unsure. Part of him wanted to be caught, needed to be caught. Angel had seen more than enough, and Angel wasn’t stupid. He would have worked it out by now. But was Angel coming to take him back - or to punish him? Punishment would be good - Angel would understand and would punish him without holding back, something Buffy would never be able to.

But he’d also make him go back. No, he couldn’t take the oblivion Angel offered, he would have to find... something else. So Spike leapt down the stairs, jumped over the ticket machines, punched a guard who yelled at him, and then went down to the Northern Line, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He knew where he was going now.

******

45 minutes later Angel came back. Alone. Buffy had been wondering whether to go after them once she’d put on some clothes, but knew that she’d never catch up and had been confined to impossible waiting, alone with her thoughts.

What had happened? Well apart from the obvious... No, the question wasn’t ‘what’, it was ‘why’. Hadn’t they moved past that incident long ago?

Slowly she turned over the last few weeks in her head, because there had to be something - but... they’d all been happy. There had been no badness of any sort... and then it hit her. They had been holding back. Not with each other, but with her. There had been nights out slaying, and nights in playing, but the two had never mixed. The two of them had argued endlessly with each other, but not with her. Those arguments had always been deflected and not resolved, and neither she nor Spike had been in any way inclined to drag up their dark past... Angel’s big confession had been enough angst for several lifetimes.

She looked up as Angel carefully closed the door and shook his head. “I lost him.”

“But-” she said, defeatedly sinking into the sofa. “But can’t you track him? Smell him or sense him or... something?”

He sighed. “Buffy. This is London. It’s almost a century since I was here last and I can barely find my way around. But for Spike... this is the place he was born, and he still knows it like the back of his hand. It’s... pointless to go looking.”

She swallowed, and yet again thought how much simpler it had been back in Sunnydale. There had not been a single hiding place in the entire town that she didn’t know about.

Then Angel continued. "So, can we get back to the main issue - what happened between you two? Not that I don’t have a pretty good idea, but I’d like some specifics."

She looked down, insides twisting. "I - I can’t tell you."

"No Buffy, you will tell me! If I am to actually live with you, I need to know why Spike just ran out the door as though he'd seen his mother's ghost!"

He wasn’t trying to hide his anger very well, and now his sarcastic side showed up too. "Actually - he'd have taken the sight of his mother's ghost a lot better than this, since he actually talks about his mom! I've spent a year and a half with him, and if I took everything he's told me about your relationship it'd easily fit on a postcard. And what you've said wouldn’t even fill a stamp!"

She crossed her arms and looked up at him defiantly.

“Well it’s not like you two have been forthcoming with the details! How did you get from beating each other up to screwing?”

He stared at her for a long moment, then nervously started walking around the room. It was strange how helpless and awkward he could seem, no matter how tall and imposing. “Not much difference,” he finally said, before coming back and crouching down in front of her. “Look... Spike and I... we’re good. There was a lot of... baggage... that we had to deal with, but we know where we stand now. And it doesn’t matter at the moment - what matters is what happened between you and Spike, because I’m thinking that there’s a lot more to it than just some kinky sex! Although I'm beginning to see why you never talked... You should have told me that he - hurt you."

“He didn’t - I mean he tried, but he didn’t-” She bit her lip, unable to finish the sentence, desperately trying to hold her emotions at bay.

Angel took hold of her hand. “Buffy - it’s OK. I know what Spike is capable of, you don’t have to shelter him.”

“Angel... you don’t understand at all.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. Time to shatter all his illusions about what sort of girl she was.

“Spike wasn’t the bad guy... I was. Most of the time anyway. And you really, really don’t know what I am capable of...”

******

Elephant and Castle. When human, Spike had always loved the name, if not the place, as it seemed to speak of things fantastical and... other: Empire, the Far East, places exotic and intriguing; as well as the wonderful mysteries of fairy tales - knights and dragons and fair princesses. All of them elusive and impossible.

When he’d become a demon all these wished-for dreams had suddenly become dark reality, and the formerly enchanting name now signified something very different: The place where resided the nastiest demon bar in all of England.

Twenty years had passed since he was last here, but he doubted that he had been forgotten. Although it was probably just as well that he made sure to jolt their memory - and with an expertly aimed kick he knocked the large door off its hinges. It landed on the floor a good 5 feet inside, and in the wake of the giant crash came a total silence as every creature within turned to look at him.

Spike loved a good entrance.

The barman and owner looked up last of all, face slowly going puce as his three eyes fixed themselves on the newcomer.

“Spike!” he hissed, “You should know better than to come back here. Or did you forget that you were banned for life?”

Spike grinned back, violence and destruction dancing in his eyes and a wild malignant joy building up inside. “Oh, but here’s the thing,” he drawled, “I went and died, so technically I’m free to enter again!”

He sauntered up to the bar, insolence and defiance in every move. His heavy boots stepping on the metal door with a harsh hollow sound, his duster swirling about his legs and his face a collection of sharp angles, uncompromising and feral.

After a long look around at the patrons, he turned and stared coldly at the barman, eyes like blue shards of ice. “So - am I going to get a drink?”

The demon flicked a finger, and moments later five 7 foot Krramki demons had surrounded Spike.

“Well now,” he said, looking from one to the other, “Let’s see how much damage I can do before I get myself banned again...”

A fraction of a second later there was a dagger in his hand and sharp, sharp fangs in his mouth - and the dance could begin.

******

Once Buffy’s worst nightmare had been Angel walking in on her and Spike. It was like they had two different boxes in her head: Angel’s was full of all things good and noble and beautiful and Spike’s was bad and dirty and nasty. And never the twain would meet... except... as time went on, Spike had begun to fill his box with a lot of Angel’s stuff. And recently she’d found out that there was a lot of Spike’s stuff in Angel’s box too.

Although the most bizarre twist of all was that her nightmare had been reversed. She had walked in on them. And Angel was now stuck back where she used to be - sleeping with Spike but unwilling to discuss it. She really should be made president of that particular club - they could have matching T-shirts and everything: ‘I slept with Spike. Don’t ask me how.’

And as she began speaking about what had happened between her and Spike, for the first time since that midnight talk with Holden, she realised that Angel might possibly be the only person in the world to understand. She would have to destroy his image of her - but that was probably for the best.

“...It was just... I mean I didn’t even like him. But somehow he was the only person I could stand to be around. He just - he was just there. He didn’t need anything, didn’t ask for anything. I - didn’t have to pretend when I was with him.”

Angel looked at her with the strangest look on his face, frowned a little, opened his mouth as though to speak, but then stopped.

“You too, huh?” she smiled, and he nodded.

She sighed and snuggled up closer to him. She loved how he was almost like a piece of furniture in his own right - she felt so safe with him, which was really quite funny considering that she was the stronger of the two.

“You’re not going to like the next bit - sorry. Just remember that you asked!”

The story took a long time to tell, because once she started, the memories blossomed in her mind, like the bruises she'd made on Spike’s perfect skin. And once she’d got past all the badness and the almost-rape, she found that she had to keep talking, because she needed to explain how it all became better. How they’d learned to love each other without all the pain. Or at least with less pain. Angel was a wonderful listener, his face showing neither shock nor surprise, although he probably felt both. But his stoicism made it easier to spill all her secrets.

“He just loves me you see - it was like... his job description. It’s what he does. And I depended on that for so long - used it to keep me going. And I need it still, but I want to give it all back as well. And now he’s gone! Angel - what if he never comes back?”

He stroked her hair softly and said, “He’ll be back. Don’t worry. As soon as he’s done trying to kill himself he’ll come back.”

“How can you be sure?” She turned to face him, not wanting empty promises and soothing lies.

He looked at her, his eyes oddly sad and gentle. “Because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go,” he said quietly, and pulled her head back onto his shoulder.

She nodded and closed her eyes. It was just a question of patience... and Spike managing to survive whatever he was currently inflicting on himself.

It wasn’t until she woke up the next morning - still snuggled up to Angel on the sofa - that she began to freak out.

“Why isn’t he back? It’s light now - we have to find him. He could be injured somewhere with no shade! That’s it - I’m calling Willow and asking her to do a locator spell!”

She grabbed the phone and then stopped as she caught Angel’s eyes. He slowly shook his head and suddenly she remembered - Spike was untraceable. Couldn’t be found mystically, didn’t show up on cameras or CCTV and no one would remember seeing him unless he’d actually interacted with them...

She swayed on her feet, and a second later Angel was there, supporting her.

“I can’t - I can’t do this! Angel - he has to come back! I can’t lose him again!”

And she burst into tears.

******

Spike finally returned just before sunrise on Sunday morning.

There was the softest of knocks on the door and Buffy practically flew to open it. And then her arms were full of bleeding, injured vampire - he’d obviously used his last strength to get back. “’M sorry,” he muttered, weakly, and then passed out.

A second later Angel was beside her, and together they managed to carry him into the bedroom.

“Why is he so stupid?” she asked, tears in her eyes, as she opened her First Aid kit and tried to work out where to start. It looked like he was injured from head to toe, although not all the blood was his own. Or so she hoped. With a sigh she began to undress him.

Angel, who had been trying to pull off his boots, looked up at her words, almost smiling. “Don’t ask me. He’s always been like this, from the first time I met him. Can’t live with him...”

She smiled back, and finished the sentence, “... Can’t live without him.”

Then she sighed again, because she’d have to cut his shirt off - it was too stiff with blood to come over his head without hurting him. And oh - quite a few nasty-looking deep cuts on his chest as well as some broken ribs.

Carefully they patched him up, and Buffy kept reminding herself that his face would look better in just a few days... Why did they always go for the face? Why had she always gone for the face? Her insides twisted with guilt and worry whenever she caught sight of the swollen eye, the large bruise from chin to ear, the cut on his forehead, the dried blood in his hair that spoke of damage yet unseen.

Angel went to fetch some blood and returned with a large cup in his hand. Not that Spike looked like he was going to wake up soon, but better to be prepared she guessed.

Returning her attention to the First Aid kit, she realised that she didn’t have any pain relief stronger than aspirin. Pointing this out to Angel, she added that she could probably get hold of something from The Council that would be strong enough even for a vampire.

He looked at her for a moment with a very odd expression on his face, and then shook his head.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” she asked indignantly. “He’s going to be in incredible pain when he wakes up!”

“But that’s what he wanted,” Angel replied. “It’s not up to you or me to take that choice away from him.”

“Excuse me?” she said, disbelieving.

“He wanted physical pain to ease the emotional pain. From what you’ve told me these last few days, I thought that was something you’d understand.”

“But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to let him suffer!”

“Why not?” he asked, that emotionless look on his face that made him seem like a stranger. She’d not seen it at all these past days when it’d just been the two of them - he’d been like the Angel of old, sweet and tender... and it had been wonderful. But she knew that it had been a illusion, a coping mechanism, a way for them to deal. And it had been far, far too quiet. If ever she had needed proof that they needed Spike, she had it now - he forced them both to deal with things they’d rather hide. Although he also made things a lot more difficult...

Then Angel continued. “This was his choice. Hell, I’d have beaten him up myself if he’d asked. He probably would have, except he knew you wouldn’t allow it.”

Buffy suddenly felt faint. “You - would have done that to him?” she asked, voice shaking, as she pointed to the bloodied and bandaged figure on the bed.

“If he’d asked me to, yes,” Angel replied, his eyes like flint. “Did worse than that to him back in the day - if for very different reasons.”

“But...” she stared at him, uncomprehending, and tried grasping for a straw she wasn't sure existed. “But I thought you loved him!”

“I do,” he said without hesitation, as he held her eyes.

She was taken aback, because until now he’d always been so reticent, so unwilling to discuss the matter; that to have him declare his feelings so bluntly seemed almost absurd. Then he shook his head.

“But Buffy - there are good reasons Spike and I don’t talk about what happened between us. Yes we... love... each other, but we’re vampires and it’s... different. And speaking as someone who spent twenty years in the gutter and living off rats as a self-inflicted punishment, then I understand what Spike did. It’s stupid, but I understand it.”

He took a breath and then stopped. Buffy could almost see the words ‘This was all a mistake’ forming on his lips, but then he smiled softly and sighed.

“Go to bed. You must be exhausted - I’ll keep watch over him.”

Slowly he walked over to her and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“We love you, never forget that.”

She nodded, and took hold of his hand. “I love you too. It’s just...”

“I know,” he said, and slowly she walked off to get some sleep on Dawn’s bed.

******

The first thing Spike sensed when he woke up was Angel, very close by. He opened his eyes, blinked against the daylight that filtered though the curtains and winced. His whole body appeared to be in pain and he almost bit his tongue to stop crying out.

“I fucked everything up, didn’t I?” he said instead, and Angel nodded silently before holding out his wrist.

“Drink,” he said, in a tone that meant no disagreement allowed; but Spike had never paid attention to that tone.

“There’s a perfectly good mug right next to the bed! ‘M not blind. Well not completely.”

Angel shook his head. “Empty. Was for me. You need something stronger than pig’s blood if you don’t want to be bedridden for a couple of weeks. Also it’s almost Christmas and you need to look presentable. Drink!”

Their eyes met for a moment, and then with an internal quiver of pure pleasure Spike accepted the undeserved gift.

Blood was life - but this was so much more. It was timeless, a bond from before time: life and death and love and pain - the mixture of demon and human that was at the root of their being. It ran deeper than deep, a connection they could never voice, but that had bound them together since they had been made.

“Thanks,” he said quietly after finally pulling away, sated and fulfilled in more ways than he could name. Angel, who was methodically rolling his sleeve down, answered without looking up. “Could it be that you’re finally learning some manners after all this time?”

Spike shook his head, then reached out and took Angel’s hand, unwilling to lose the contact they’d just shared, and hurting too much to try to keep up any sort of pretence that he didn’t care. There had been a point when he’d been on the brink of losing, of giving up... and what had kept him fighting and eventually winning, despite his injuries, had been the knowledge that there were two people who truly cared about him. Although at the same time, this knowledge was terrifying. Loving was easy. Being loved was something else altogether.

“Thank you,” he repeated, “for everything...”

Angel looked at him then, an oddly shaken look on his face, but didn’t let go of Spike’s hand. After a moment he said, “I need you to tell me what happened.”

Spike nodded, but Angel continued swiftly, explaining. “Not what happened back then, a few years ago. Buffy told me pretty much everything that went on between you... but I need to know what happened the other night.”

He couldn’t deny the great relief - as well as new guilt over Buffy having told that whole long dark story by herself. He tried to work out how to explain it, finding a way that Angel might understand.

“Remember that night - I mean that night, the... first night?”

Angel nodded, face inscrutable.

“And remember the... the bit with the shirt?”

Angel nodded again.

“It was... like that, but magnified a thousand - a million. Like reliving what I... almost... did... in 3-D wide screen Technicolor...” He would have buried his head in his hands if Angel hadn’t still held one of them and his face hadn’t been so bruised. Instead he shook his head, fighting the lump in his throat.

“Perfect recall is a soddin’ bitch! Every move, every tiny detail starin’ me right back in the face as though it was happening again...” A shaky breath, as self-disgust almost choked him.

“You know the way you pin them down? Find a point of leverage so they can’t move - hurtin’ them in one place so they can’t fight back properly...” He stopped, choking. “I did that... did it to her! Can still feel it...”

He sought out Angel’s eyes again. “I - I don’t know if I can do this Angel. This whole Happily Ever After deal, it’s too hard. You two were made for it, but I.... I’ll stay of course, but... I’ll fuck it up again, I know. One of the reasons I never called her.”

Angel had been absentmindedly stroking his hand as he listened, and the soothing motion from this most unexpected source was all that was keeping him together.

“If I can do it, after what I put her through...” Angel said, and Spike almost smiled.

“Yeah, but when you hurt her, you wanted to. Heck I tried to kill her goodness knows how often and that’s never been a problem. But that one time...”

He looked down, and then realised that the Angel had gone completely still. “I hurt her once,” Angel then said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I almost killed her...”

Spike stared at him in shock. “When you had a soul? When? How?”

Then followed the tale of Faith’s poisoned arrow and all that came after, and Spike listened spellbound. How he’d never heard of this he didn’t know, but there it was... and a lot of things suddenly made more sense. But as Angel told of how he’d only pulled away when it was almost too late, how he’d lost himself in the taste of her, something suddenly clicked in Spike’s head.

“But then you know...” he said, suddenly breathless, staring at Angel with wonder.

“Know - what?” Angel looked at him unsure.

“What it was like - when I slept with her, back then. I mean with sex instead of blood - not that there’s much difference of course.” He stopped, mind racing. “Imagine... imagine that she’d bitten you back and then not stopped for 5 hours. That’s what it was like!”

Angel stared at him, speechless. Spike was almost sitting up now - in spite of the intense pain - holding on to Angel’s hand tightly. “That... utter loss of control, of just going with it and never letting up, like dancing with fire...”

He stopped for a moment, holding Angel’s eyes because he knew exactly where Angel’s mind was going now, and then grinned. “Like that night in Phoenix, but more violent and destructive and... raw.”

Then he shook his head, soberly. “It was unbelievable, but still... I’d never go back. The price was far too high, and she was hurting so much.”

“So - let’s go forward instead!”

Buffy’s voice cut through their bubble, and they looked up in alarm.

“How... how long have you been standing there?” Angel looked very worried and tried to pull away, but Spike held onto his hand. It wasn’t like she didn’t know, and Angel would have to learn to deal with it.

“Long enough,” she said, looking from one to the other. “Going to tell me about Phoenix?”

They caught each other’s eyes and then looked down in unison, since that night... had been pretty indescribable.

“It’s OK, you can keep your secrets for now,” she sighed as she walked over and gently sat down on the bed.

“But - I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About us and what sort of life we’re trying to have.”

They waited patiently and she looked down for a moment. “It’s... harder than I thought. And there’s so much ugliness in our past, and some of your stuff really freaks me out, but... there’s also a lot of good stuff. And I want that good stuff back! So from now on there’s not going to be any holding back! Spike-”

He looked up, meeting her eyes worriedly.

“We’re going to work it out, OK? I don’t care what it takes, if you have to rip a hundred dressing gowns off me, or go to some overpriced therapist, I need you to be all you can be! And that goes for you too Angel! I gave up any dreams of a normal life when I brought you back here...”

Ouch. They lowered their eyes; but then slowly looked up, surprised, when she continued.

“So I want to get everything out of what I’ve got - because I think I got a good deal. I want to rediscover what we had, Spike, but in a good way - like... what I think you two have, as far as I can work out. But for all of us. I want you to make me scream like you did back then...”

She stopped, biting her lip and blushed prettily. “Not there’s anything wrong with what we’ve been doing until now... But - I want it all, OK? You’re demons and I don’t want you to hide that. There’s a good bit of demon in me too...”

She looked from one to the other, and then carefully placed her hand on top of theirs.

For a long moment they sat completely still, uncertain, but then Spike turned to look at Angel, and when their eyes met they knew exactly what the other was thinking...

Their Buffy was the most amazing woman in all the world!

******

Christmas Eve.

Hyde Park.

Just the three of them and a helluva lot of demons.

Christmas was going to be great!

******

It had all come about because Buffy had gone to see Giles a few days before and noticed a report on his desk. The Council had heard of a demon gathering in the park, and, not knowing its purpose, Giles had been unsure how to proceed.

Buffy had happily made the decision for him. "I'll do it! I mean - we'll do it! I mean-”

Oh crap! Bad, bad choice of words Buffy!

"I mean... we’ll go! ‘Cause you don't know if it's a false alarm or like a tiny little midnight picnic or half an army, right? So we could spend the night surveying - and if more than like 30 show up we'll call for back-up!"

"I suppose..." Giles replied, slightly dubious.

"Oh come on! None of us is religious, Dawn is going to spend Christmas Eve with some boy's family, and... well Spike and Angel...”

She stopped for a fraction of a second, the events of the last few days flitting through her mind. Better keep that very, very secret.

“...have been doing the research thing for weeks now, and they're driving me up the wall! They could do with a good fight, or I'll have to knock them out."

"Ah yes..." Giles said, face unhappy. "That reminds me - could you tell Spike that there is no smoking allowed in the library? I have left several notes, but they seem to have no effect."

"Sure, I'll try. It just calms him down you see, and otherwise he'd just break something... Did you know that he speaks Latin and Greek?"

"Spike?" Giles said surprised.

She nodded. “And Angel is pretty fluent in Romanian. Not to mention various other languages - human and demon. Oh, and apparently Spike went to university when he was human.”

Giles had been so floored by this that he had given in to her request far more easily than she’d anticipated.

So here they were. Vastly outnumbered, but she had The Scythe in her hand and Spike and Angel on either side, extra sharp swords at the ready, and she knew that there was no way they could lose. A second later the horde fell on them.

Her world became pure instinct, and she knew that it was the same for the other two. She could sense them, and sometimes caught sight of them, gamefaces snarling; swords flashing brightly in the darkness, tainted with dark currents of ruby. Spike was grinning, pure thrill on his face. His recovery had been unnaturally swift, only the ghost of the recently inflicted damage still on his skin. He fought now as well as he ever had, lightning swift and slippery like mercury, confounding his attackers. Angel on the other hand was like a cliff - tall and unmoving - that his assailants crashed and broke upon. And she herself? She was the thing monsters had nightmares about.

How long the battle lasted Buffy did not know - time stopped having meaning as their weapons cut a swathe of death around them, and the earth became soaked with blood. Slowly however the lines thinned, and Buffy darted after one that tried to run away, as Spike and Angel dispatched the last few standing.

As she walked back to them she saw that they were side by side, decapitating the last demon with great relish. Then they caught each other’s eyes before slowly turning to look at her, identical expressions on their faces. And something hitched inside, a breath she didn’t know she had held. This was all so new, and complex... And the incident last week had shown just how close to the surface the past still was. But she was sure that they could move past that - and tonight could be a new beginning...

Spike’s expression was familiar - such an integral part of him that he had seemed crippled without it, and it felt so good to have it back (“You know you want to dance...”). But with Angel it had always been different. Not that he wasn’t passionate, but because he kept his passion at bay - had to be forced out of his defences. The only times she could remember him actually coming on to her overtly being when he was evil.

And now... seeing that look on both their faces - a look that said that they didn’t know if they wanted to kiss her or tear her apart - she thought that perhaps finally she understood how... maybe... having Angelus come out to play could be a good thing.

As this treacherous thought formed in her head, she began to realise why explaining this relationship to her friends was so difficult. She'd told them all that she loved Spike and Angel, and of course this was true. There were tender kisses on early mornings, thoughtful gestures, lovemaking that made her forget herself, shared looks that she got lost in, daydreaming, hand holding... a feeling of happiness that was almost unshakeable, no matter the daily difficulties.

But - although love was the cornerstone, there were other parts - things she had been barely conscious of when she brought them back with her, but that had nonetheless been a driving factor in her decision. Darker, deeper urges, otherwise only brought out in battle. She could live in action, in movement - the action of death, the blood cry, the penetrating wound. And now, letting her demon essence call out to them, she could see them answering - eyes flickering gold - and she knew that their bodies would be humming with energy and passion just like hers and none of them cared for what they had to do tomorrow.

Time to open her Christmas presents early.

Chapter 7.

Because Cavemen Have Fire. Chapter 6.

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