Something cold pressed against her brow, sending a sharp pain to her temple immediately before the throbbing subsided. Buffy’s eyes fluttered open, instantly greeted by the ocean of concern pouring through the loving gaze of her worried lover. Everything else came slower. The familiarity of her surroundings. Giles’s place. She vaguely remembered asking Spike to bring her here. Remembered the shape of the door before a cloud of unconsciousness overwhelmed her. And now she was in her Watcher’s house, and her boyfriend was looking at her with growing disquiet, pressing an ice pack to her head.

A smile crossed her face. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What happened?”

His brows arched and he set the ice aside. “You don’ remember?”

“Did I get hit by a truck?”

“You went off when I offered a thousand bloody times to go with you an’ got pounded into the next soddin’ millennia.” There was only a hint of scold imbedded in his voice; the overpowering defensive note of his fear. “You’re not goin’ out without me again.”

“Spike—”

“You have any idea what I jus’ went through?” he demanded. “I had no idea where you were. No idea how bad you were hurt. No bloody idea what the hell it was that was powerful enough to take you down—”

“Well, obviously you did because you found me.”

“Buffy—”

“And I’m willing to bet you knew exactly where I was hurt and how much. I feel it when you stub your toe, for crying out loud, so don’t pull that on me.” She sat up, releasing a long sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t…but I…”

Spike shook his head, the hard façade he had established cracking. “I was so worried,” he whispered. “I felt you were in trouble, an’ I wasn’t there.”

“You were there.”

“I wasn’t! I—”

“You were there,” she said again. “I felt you coming. I tried to keep you out so you wouldn’t worry, but you came anyway.”

A dangerous, defensive flare flashed across his eyes. “Of course I came!” he spat with false anger, drawing again to his feet. “You were in danger. I felt you calling for me. I felt you. You were in danger. You’re my mate. My bloody reason for livin’. If you think I’ll sit by an’ twiddle my thumbs when I feel you screamin’ in pain jus’ because you don’ want me to worry, you’ve got another fuckin’ thing comin’.”

Buffy pursed her lips and rolled to her feet, wincing a little as an impromptu wave of dizziness crashed over her senses. “Sweetie,” she said softly, drawing him back to her with the gentility of her voice. “I didn’t want you to worry for me. I went there tonight because I needed to. I don’t even know why I needed to, but I did. And she was there. I got the man out, but she was there and the building fell down. And then he died.”

The peroxide blonde was staring at her blankly. “Baby,” he said, “you know you’re not makin’ sense, right?”

At least the anger was gone. She had known it would be short-lived, but that did not stop relief from rushing through her veins. “There’s something,” she began carefully, her mind still spinning from the weight of what the monk had told her before collapsing in his own death. Before granting her that unspoken permission to grasp the pain surging her body. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

That did very little to ease his apprehension. “Buffy…”

“It’s Dawn.”

That surprised him. She felt it just as powerfully as she saw it. A torrent of shock overwhelming his azure eyes, staring at her as though she had suddenly reverted to speaking in ancient tongues that even his extensive knowledge did not touch. “Nibblet?”

There was a rustling sound behind her; Giles was reentering the room. Buffy’s gaze widened and she shot Spike a meaningful look. “Not now,” she mouthed, hand rising to her bruised head and immediately drawing her lover’s attention back to her healing wounds.

Spike was back at her side the next second, concern overwhelming him once more. His lips danced over her tender skin. “’m sorry I lost my temper,” he murmured. “I jus’…you were in danger, an’ I wasn’t there.”

“I know. I’m sorry…I didn’t know what I would find. I…”

“Please don’t do that to me again,” he pleaded softly. “I love you so much. My heart can’t take that.”

Buffy smiled lovingly, but did not reply. She wanted nothing more than to reassure him that she would no longer go out traipsing into dangerous scenarios without him at her side, but she knew better. She knew herself. She knew that she was attracted to danger, and, moreover, an insatiable thirst for truth. If the call for truth should reach her, she would follow it as she had tonight. Follow it to discover what it held. What reality was hidden in a wreath of carefully woven lies.

“You’re awake,” Giles said, relief flooding his tone. A book was clasped tightly in one hand, swinging slightly at his side. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I decided to run cross country with a piano latched to my back, anchors on each leg, and an anvil strapped to my head.”

“Her bleedin’ has stopped,” Spike said. She noticed the ice in his hand was beginning to melt; droplets of water squeezing through his fingers. “Stopped almost immediately. I sealed her wounds.”

Giles paused and stared at him. “You sampled her blood?”

Buffy wormed an arm around her mate’s middle in a silent but unyielding declaration of support.

“I din’t sample,” Spike growled, eyes flashing dangerously. “I closed the wounds. There’s a difference.”

“There is,” she confirmed before her Watcher could get a word in. “Spike has never taken blood from me for sustenance, so don’t even go there. What he did, he did. Even though I wasn’t…I feel fine. I can feel my bruises healing even now.” Her eyes settled on the book in Giles’s hand. “What’s that?”

He glanced down. “Everything I have on Quirinias.”

“Quirinias? Why?”

“I think it’s better that we know what sort of power he held beyond possessing Slayers for the sake of maintaining a physical shape in our realm.” He sighed. “He had powers beyond anything I’ve ever read. It’s amazing that his history wasn’t better cataloged in the Watcher archives, but then, he had been banished so long that most modern historians likely thought he was dead.”

“Thought you said gods don’ die,” Spike said, tugging Buffy subconsciously to him and sighing happily when she wrapped her arms around him. There was something about being in her embrace that soothed him regardless of the tension in the room. He reckoned the world could be falling to its final hell and he wouldn’t care as long as he was in her arms. “Thought you said—”

“Gods don’t die,” Giles confirmed. “Their earthly bodies might die, but their spirit, or essence, remains forever. Quirinias’s initial banishment was so strong that it took him centuries to gain enough power to attempt to maintain a physical presence. The roots of his powers themselves are overwhelming. Such to the point that I am convinced that the only way you could have been defeated tonight is if the entity you were fighting was a god as well.”

Spike’s eyes went wide and his arms tightened around her. “Another god?” he demanded. “Two in one bloody year?”

“That is not nearly as disturbing as the fact that, had Buffy exercised her full potential, there is absolutely no way she wouldn’t have emerged the victor.” Giles’s face was grave. “Buffy, you have new responsibilities now. You can’t fight as a Slayer anymore. You must start adapting to the new lifestyle the events in Natchez gave you.”

Buffy froze, and Spike froze right with her. “I-it…” She glanced down. “It’s not that easy, Giles. I have…this thing, it’s bigger than just—”

“You are not the Slayer anymore,” he said again. Graver. “You cannot fight like one. It will get you killed.”

“Gods don’t die.”

“It will kill your body, and you will be damned to an existence worse than death. An existence that could take well beyond the end of the world to mend.” His eyes shifted to the vampire. “Spike, as her mate, you must—”

“As her mate, my only concern is keepin’ her safe, warm, an’ blissfully happy.”

“Safe also means teaching her how to take care of herself.”

“I can take care of myself,” Buffy spat. “I have for six years just fine.”

An angry glare flashed across her Watcher’s face. “You are not the Slayer anymore. You’re a god now. You have to fight like a god. You can’t just ignore that you have an immeasurable amount of power at your disposal that will kill you for indolence if you just sit back and act like nothing has changed.”

“She’s stronger than she’s ever been,” Spike snarled. “She moves like bloody poetry. I’ve been around longer than the both of you combined, an’ I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. She flicks off vamps an’ demons an’ all bloody else jus’ by lookin’ at them.”

“Only she doesn’t, and that’s the problem. Her strength has increased, but she doesn’t use it. Not like she should.”

“You can’t tell her how she should.”

Giles’s eyes darkened. “The god that she faced knows how to utilize innate assets. Knows how to accentuate power, and knows where to throw punches and make it hurt even those who are built like Hercules. The god knows because the god fights like a god. The god doesn’t fight like a Slayer who doesn’t know better.”

“That’s enough!” Spike sprang to his feet, whisking Buffy into his arms; surprising her before she had the opportunity to protest. “You don’ know what she’s goin’ through. You can’t even begin to fathom it. So don’ come off as bein’ so bloody righteous.”

Her heart was thundering wildly, but her tongue felt too swollen to trust with words. The link she felt with her mate anchoring further into her blood. Her gratefulness for him. Her love for him. He felt her emotions, felt her fears tied in with the powers she had not yet accepted. Felt everything and could release their combined anger at being cornered into something so large so soon. And god, she loved him for it. For that and a million other reasons.

“You’re going to get her killed,” her Watcher snapped.

That was possibly the lowest insult anyone had ever issued the vampire. The implication that he would endanger the life of the woman he loved was akin to showering him with holy water.

“No,” Buffy said softly. “He’s really not.”

“Buffy—”

“We’re goin’ home, ‘f you don’t have anythin’ useful to tell us,” Spike growled, doing his damndest to temper his emotions. “We’re goin’ home, Watcher. You should do the same.”

The Slayer frowned at that, sensing something had thoroughly gone over her head, but it didn’t matter. Aside Giles’s objections, her mate was storming out of the duplex with enough rage to dominate a small empire. He had her fastened in the Desoto the next minute and was racing through Sunnydale so they arrived home in record speed. She hadn’t remembered him driving her away from the factory after she was injured. There was some innate response, she figured, that was so primal for mates that technological advances slipped from their psyche when they knew the other was in danger. Either way, it didn’t matter. She reckoned Spike made it to her side on foot faster than he would have behind the wheel. Were it reversed, there was no doubt in her mind that she would have been at his side just seconds after the first blow was administered.

“Sodding wanker,” Spike grumbled as he carried her to their apartment. “Face hell an’ all that an’ he wants to know why you—”

“It’s okay,” she said.

“No, it’s really not. You were hurt. He had no bleedin’ right to—”

“He’s my Watcher.”

“I’m your mate. I know you better than anyone else. I feel what you feel, remember?” Her feet didn’t touch the floor until they were in the lavatory. Spike’s attentiveness when she was injured was nothing she was a stranger to; she remembered vividly his tears and concern when she awoke a god in the Wensel townhouse just a few short months before. “An’ you’re still afraid.”

She was. That was unmistakable. It seemed eons had passed since she awoke in a body that wasn’t entirely hers, with strength given to her by a deranged deity who wanted an earthly kingdom. Moreover, even more time had passed since she sat with Spike in that waiting room in Washington. Noting the inherent evils of humanity and acknowledging privately that she still had so much to get through before she accepted what she had become.

The most malevolent forces in the world came from the people she was sworn to protect. That knowledge, that horrible recognition, had haunted her every night since their return. Furthermore, she had seen the corruption that came with power; had seen it in Faith, and even in Willow during that hour spent fighting through security and secret service and god knows what else to get to Sam. Using her strength to her advantage in a time the country was running around in confusion. She had seen power corrupt even the most unlikely.

The sort of power that Quirinias had passed on to her was more terrifying than anything she could consider. And yes, she knew she could not ignore it forever. That Giles was right in that regard; eventually, her negligence would be her downfall. But she couldn’t begin to comprehend what she was now. Not now. Not when she was just getting over the fact that it had happened in the first place.

“Lift your arms, sweetling,” Spike murmured, snapping her back to him. They were still in the bathroom. Nature’s steam rose from the hot water splashing against their soft pink tub. The concern imbedded in his eyes had not alleviated; rather, her reverie had sharpened his attention, and he looked so worried for her that it tore at her heart.

“The bruises are gone,” she murmured as he whisked her top over her head.

“I know.”

“The bleeding has stopped.”

“I know,” he said again, unhooking her bra.

“My muscles are a little strained, but I feel fine.”

“I know.” Spike carefully stripped her of her remaining clothing and pressed a tender kiss to the swell of her breast. “I know, darling. Jus’ lemme take care of you.”

Her hands tugged at his t-shirt as he fumbled with his jeans. He turned the water off the next minute and tugged her into his arms. Settling into the warmth of the bath behind her. An immersion that cleansed everything she had not known to still taint her skin.

Spike was behind her, encouraging her head to rest on his chest. It was an odd position, but comfortable nonetheless. Resting against him the way she did after they made love—her arms around his middle, her legs straddling his thigh. There in the quiet of their home, as his fingers massaged her skin and his lips caressed her forehead. A bath that was not a bath; a bath for both to relieve the stress buried in all that had happened tonight.

There was something so comforting about being held like this. In her home. In a place that was actually hers. In the arms of the man that made this home for her. Spike’s hands dancing over her wet skin, drawing her hair from her face and over her shoulder; holding her in her calm.

“This is nice,” she murmured contentedly.

“Oh yeah,” he purred, cupping the soft weight of her breast. “Bloody brilliant.” His nimble fingers massaged her nipple teasingly, his lips finding her forehead once more. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“No,” she replied, slithering a hand between them to cradle his hardened cock, grinning at the gasp that ruptured through his lips. “But I will be.”

“Buffy—”

“Seems to me someone’s wanting some attention.”

A long whimper clawed through his throat. “Oh Jesus, Buffy—”

She shifted over him, caressing his mouth with hers. “I want you,” she murmured, her hands gliding over his length in tantalizing laps. “I want to feel you inside me.”

“Fucking hell,” Spike gasped, his own hands sliding down her sides, fingers teasing her silken folds. “You’re so…god, I love you so much. An’ I was so…I was so fuckin’ worried about you. Like my insides were bein’ ripped out.”

“I’m sorry…if I could’ve…”

“Shhh, s’okay.” She could tell it wasn’t for the heavy tone in his voice; knew that there was a thousand things bearing down on his conscience, but his need to make sure she was all right surpassed all else. “We’ll talk about that later. I jus’…we don’ have to do this tonight. You’re sore, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Buffy pressed a kiss to the pulse point of his throat, reveling in the moan that spilled through him at that. “You don’t hurt me,” she whispered. “You never hurt me.” She positioned herself over his cock, coaxing his fingers to move again to her hips, holding her as she sank onto him. A mingled mewl of completion wrapped in the air around them. “Ohhh, god.”

“Mmmm,” Spike murmured in agreement, his wet hands sliding up her arms, inspiring a path of gooseflesh to follow. He was panting. Long, heedless pants; his eyes glossed over with passion. “God, you feel so good. Buttery satin, you are. My warm, fiery goddess.”

“My vampire,” she countered lovingly, squeezing her vaginal muscles around him. His eyes rolled up in his head, collapsing against the back of the tub. “Mmm…so good.”

She was drowning in the blue azure of his gaze the next minute, smoldering with the heat he sent scorching across every inch of her skin. “Oh fuck.” He gasped again, lifting himself so that her breasts were flattened against his chest. His mouth descending to her throat, fingers wedging between them so he could taunt a rosy nipple as his other hand slid across her flushed skin to tease her clit. “So fuckin’ hot.”

As was everything with him, the synchronicity of his touches inspired the glowing fire within her to a blazing inferno. The feel of him inside, thrusting desperately within her soft depths, water splashing around them. It seemed years had passed since their tryst in the hall, since she had been in the warmth of his intimate embrace. There were so many things about their relationship that reestablished boundaries of everything she knew about life and love. Despite the lust buried within every touch he gave her, every leer he shot in her direction, the underlying wealth of his affection was undeniable. And when they were connected like this, as close as any two people could be, it surpassed everything her mother had taught her about sex and breeched something new and unheard of. Something that culture had dismissed for physical gratification when it was more for her; when for her, it was about love and honor. Bringing him into her body because she loved him so much that she wanted him to be a part of her. And she felt something was missing when he wasn’t.

“I love you,” she whimpered, arching her back when his mouth encircled her left breast, his hand cupping her right. His other hand was submerged in the bathwater, massaging her where they were joined. Inspiring the inferno within her to surge. Her nerves were on fire, teasing her body as she danced near completion. Spike’s teeth tugged at her nipple, his tongue laving a wet path around her sensitive skin, murmuring adorations that were muffled with passion.

He released her breast with a soft plop, heated eyes finding hers through the shaded light that surrounded them. “I love you,” he rumbled intensely. “I love you so much.”

The sensation of hearing the words as he moved ardently within her was something she would never take for granted. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I should’ve told you…tonight, I’m—”

“It’s okay, kitten. It’s okay.” He buried his face in her shoulder, and she felt him shift into the face nature had given him. It was so strange; imagining a vampire’s fangs so close to her throat and she felt nothing but a rush of excitement. Even with the months that had passed, she hadn’t gotten over the world’s sense of irony. How she, the Slayer, could find such solace, such love, in the arms of her natural born enemy. How she could crave the feel of his incisors in her skin. How the sensation could make her feel so…

“Wonderful,” Spike murmured, his silky but similarly roughened tongue savoring her flesh. “You taste so wonderful.”

“Spike…”

“So wonderful.” His thumb pressed against her clit, manipulating her sensitive bundle in rough, loving circles that sent sharp shards of pleasure through her body. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, water splashing over the tub. “Love you so fucking much.”

“Spike!” she whimpered. “Please!”

“Come for me. You’re so close. I can feel how close you are.”

“Bite me!”

“Such animosity…”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her muscles clenching around him. “You know…oh god…you know what I…what I mean!”

“Do I?” he demanded raggedly. “Maybe you should tell me.”

“Spike!”

“Just in case, you know.”

“Fangs. Yours. In my throat. Put them there, now!”

A heated look of adoration crossed his neon eyes. “You’re amazin’,” he gasped reverently, lowering his mouth again to her throat. “I love you so much.”

She was seconds away from sobbing. “Spiiiiiike!”

“So much.” And then it happened. His fangs slipped into her milky flesh, and she exploded around him. Her scream of completion reverberating through the small chamber, her head flying back as she rode out the throes of her orgasm, his name on her lips like a holy mantra. “Mine,” he growled when he pulled away, her blood dribbling down his chin, his hips surging into her as he embraced his own orgasm. “You’re mine. My Slayer. My God. My Buffy. You’re my Buffy.”

“Yours,” she agreed, feeling a familiar shiver drive down her spine. “I’m yours.”

“Mine,” he murmured again reverently. “An’ I’m yours.”

“Mine.” A long sigh shuddered through her. “Forever.”

“Forever,” he agreed.

Buffy clung to him as he held her while they came down together, savoring the feel of him still locked inside her body. Cradled within her warmth. Spike’s arms were so tight around her, ragged breaths tickling her skin, holding her as though she was the pinnacle of the world’s trials. Nestled in security even as the bathwater cooled around them. Resting in this solace they had created for each other.

The comforting rumble of his chuckle drew her back to the present a few minutes later. “Not exactly,” he murmured, “what I had in mind when I brought you in here.”

She pouted. “Are you complaining?”

He graced her with a long, dubious look. “Yeah. ‘S a right bitch, makin’ sweet, unbridled love with the woman I love. Don’ know how I survive it.”

“You’re hilarious,” she drawled, nipping at his throat.

“Yeh, aren’t I?” A smirk crossed his lips. “But really, kitten, ask a stupid question.” His grin widened when she scowled, tweaking a nipple between his agile fingers. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

She blushed prettily. “Am not.”

“Are so.”

“Okay.”

Spike smirked again, stroking her mouth with his. “You taste so sweet.”

“You’re in a flattering mood tonight.”

“I’m in a truthful mood tonight.”

The words would have sounded cheesy had she not known he was completely serious. The intensity with which he regarded her was more than shared, but his ability to be so open with his feelings was something she was still working on. He was patient; he knew how much she loved him. She told him a thousand times a day in a thousand different ways. In the meantime, the casual banter she enjoyed with him spoke levels for their shared sentiment. It made everything about their relationship complete.

“Sweet, unbridled love?” she asked teasingly.

He frowned. “I was bein’ poetic.”

“You’re adorable when you’re poetic.”

“You really have no qualms about sayin’ that word around me, do you?”

“No more than you do around me.”

“I’m the guy. I’m not supposed to be adorable.”

Buffy eyes narrowed. “First of all, that’s crap. Second of all, even if it wasn’t crap, you’re already way too unconventional to not be adorable just because you’re a guy.” She squeezed her thighs in an unneeded reminder of their intimate connection, cherishing the moan that tore through his lips almost as much as the feel of his hardness flexing within her. “Don’t you think?”

Spike’s hands dropped again to her hips, his pelvis arching forward as a look of pure bliss clouded his features. “God, baby—”

She began moving over him again, her eyes shining. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

An indeterminate amount of time later, settling into bed, Spike brushed a kiss over Buffy’s temple. She was already asleep. Dozing in the comfort of their sanctuary, snuggled in the softness he had given her. Her back pressed to his chest, his hand finding hers as he settled behind her, breathing in her sweetness. These walls were small, but they belonged to them. The first time he had a home that felt like home.

There was something so terrifying about what had happened tonight, something that would be saved for another day.

For now, there was this. This refuge. This warmth.

This peace that he would fight all hell to keep.

He could only pray it never came to that.

TBC