Washington, DC


Willow was waiting in the foyer when Sam got home that night with a plate of oven-fresh cookies and a soft, sympathetic smile. He took one look at her, his gaze dropping to the platter in her hands, and a sigh devastated his body.

“There isn’t any chance that the White House was hit by a timely yet unfortunate power failure, is there?”

She pursed her lips and edged the platter forward. “Cookie?”

“You made cookies?”

“Well…I thought, after your television debut, that it might be…you know…good to have a little sugar in your system. You know…might be…good.”

A desolate look crossed Sam’s face and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “How bad was it?”

Her eyes widened and she shifted uncomfortably. “I…well, I don’t watch…I mean, I’ve never seen Capitol Beat before, and—”

“Willow, you’ve gone through practically all the tapes we could get you that feature me in debate, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” He removed his suit coat and placed it on the rack to his left. “What kind of grief can I expect tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m sure they…I’m sure—”

“It’s Josh. Josh, Toby, and CJ. Not to mention the President and Leo and—”

“They’ll all give you—”

He deadpanned. “It’s Josh, Toby, and CJ.”

A sigh pressed through her lips. “Yeah, okay. You’re gonna…well, they made popcorn. And then CJ and Toby put on a reenactment. And Josh had Donna print up the California state map and leave it on your desk…with Kirkwood circled in red.”

Sam released a desolate moan. “Uhhh…I think I’m getting a headache.”

Willow smiled sympathetically and held out the cookie platter again. “Eat a cookie, ease your pain?”

“I…you made these for me?”

She nodded, then bit her lip. “Right after Spike called…wanting to talk to you.”

He whimpered, his eyes falling shut. “Okay. That’s it. I quit.”

“Sam—”

“The President will have my resignation on his desk first thing tomorrow.”

Willow frowned. “Sam, come on. It’s not as bad as all that. I mean, yeah, she had good points, but—”

“I got the name of the state wrong.”

“Y-yes, yes you did. But, you also made good points. The President’s bill provides money for text books—”

“Yes, yes.” He held up a hand. “I underestimated her. That was it. She was a blonde, leggy Republican. What were the chances that she would actually know something?”

A scowl crossed the redhead’s face. “Hey,” she grumbled, her left hand dropping to slap his arm playfully. “There will be no noticing of leggy Republicans by you, all right? I made cookies.”

Sam shook his head and selected one of her sugary doughy cylinders. “There is absolutely no need to worry. The next time I see Ainsley Hayes, it’ll be to laugh at her after we’ve won reelection.” He shook his head again. “Even so, she’s a smug, cold, Republican. Not a warm, gorgeous, sensible redhead.”

Willow’s brows arched good-humoredly, and she set the platter on a nearby stand to free her arms for a hug. “You’re the best.”

“No. You are. The only consolation I had tonight is that someone would be home waiting for me.”

“And cookies.”

“Well, the cookies were just a bonus.” He released a long sigh and cast a hand through his hair, giving him a ruffled bookish look. “Have you eaten?”

“What?”

“I think I promised us dinner.”

“Sam, it’s—”

“Late, I know. But there are some places that’ll still be open. Have you eaten?”

Willow favored him with a weary look. “You…wanna take me…out? To eat? As in, in a public place? Around people who…you know, have eyes?”

“Yes.”

“Sam, you can’t—”

“What?” he retorted. “Take my girlfriend out for supper? Yes, I can. I don’t know why I haven’t before. Are you going to wear a thing on your forehead that declares your age? Are you going to announce to the other customers who I am, who you are, and that we’re sleeping with each other? The country has no right to tell me who I can and can’t love.”

“Tell that to the Religious Right.”

“Which is neither,” Sam fired back. “It’s not even like I’m breaking a law. You’re older than eighteen.”

“Not by much.”

“Well, that’s someone else’s problem. You’re here, I’m here, and one night out isn’t going to be the end of the world.”

“Sam, it’s our problem. I don’t want you to do this because you’re angry about tonight and then—”

“I’m doing this because I love you and I’m tired of hiding from the world just because we have some small-minded people in this country,” he drawled angrily. “One of which just handed my ass to me on national television, yes, but she, if nothing else, reminded me why Republicans infuriate me so much. You really think I’m the only man in Washington with a high profile job and a slightly unorthodox but perfectly legal and healthy personal life, who could be destroyed if the information fell in the wrong hands? We don’t attack them like they attack us, Will. That’s the reason they get away with it and we don’t.”

Willow merely nodded. There was no stopping Sam when he got on a tangent.

“Ainsley Hayes represents everything the Right stands for. Hypocrisy shrouded by a pretty face. Well, I stand here today and say no more. We’re going out, we’re going to have fun, and when we come back, I’m going to do something to you that…well…” He stopped and flushed, as though only then coming back to himself. “Well, I can’t exactly elaborate. It sounds funny coming from me.”

The redhead begged to differ.

“We could…” she said, gesturing broadly. A little tongue-tied by the thought of a verbally suggestive Sam Seaborn. “You know, we could always…skip the dinner part.”

He grinned. “Well, yes, but that would defeat the purpose of confronting my outrage, wouldn’t it?”

“Sam—”

“Come on. Go get your shoes. We’re going out.”

“Where will we go?”

Sam’s smile widened. “Well, let’s start with what’s open.”

*~*~*

Sunnydale, California

She wasn’t looking forward to the next hour and a half at all.

Spike had been asleep for about thirty minutes, his body pressed against hers, cock nestled in the curve of her ass, his arm around her middle. It was so tempting to remain here, buried in his embrace, her muscles pliant from their lovemaking, her body sated and demanding rest. But no. She had an unpleasant task ahead of her. Something she had debated canceling a thousand times but somehow refrained; she knew if she didn’t do this tonight, she never would.

Better now while he was in deep sleep. She didn’t want him worrying.

Or reaching the wrong conclusion and tearing someone’s head off.

Buffy drew in a deep breath and carefully untangled herself from her lover’s embrace, frowning as her stomach tightened. As though the cells in her body were instinctively drawing her back to her safe haven.

Gah. It would be so much better if she could rely on fax or answering machines. E-mail or something similar. But she couldn’t. Not with this. She didn’t even trust the man she was meeting, much less his coworkers.

And she didn’t like the idea of setting up the meeting without Spike’s knowledge, but he would never have allowed it otherwise. He would have demanded he be there with her, and that was something she couldn’t allow. Not with the way she had seen Riley look at him at their last encounter.

Her options were thinning, though. With Giles in Europe and Willow in DC, there were only so many allies that were immediately accessible. Bringing the Initiative into her life again was the last thing she wanted, but there was little else she could do aside relocate to keep her sister safe.

Plus, if anything went wrong, she could likely get Josh or Sam to do something about it.

Buffy’s blood sang as she pulled on her sweats, surging with the hint of enhanced strength. Strength her body was still adjusting to. She was finding it increasingly difficult to only taste a sample of her lover’s blood when offered, and surprisingly, the notion didn’t scare her as she thought it would. Rather, like their physical union, it filled her with hope and reassurance. The taste of him was so concrete, so real, that the more of him she drew inside her, the more she knew he would never leave her.

Like Angel and Parker. Spike was different. Special.

With him, she actually felt loved.

It was not one-sided. Spike had murmured a small apology after retracting his fangs from her throat tonight, afraid he had taken too much. Not realizing that her body was screaming in protest to be separated from his.

Buffy adjusted her top over the most comfortable, concealing bra she could find, and stole a quick glance in the mirror. She didn’t particularly care about looking good for Riley, but there was that small streak of vanity that demanded tidiness for every occasion. Furthermore, her clothing was sloppy but Spike tended to find her irresistible in anything. It was getting more and more difficult to decide what would be a turn off for men when he wanted her always.

The last thing she wanted was Riley to misread her intentions tonight.

Her stomach grew tighter as she moved for the door, an almost profound sadness streaking through her body at the thought of being separated from her mate so soon after a blood exchange. She licked her lips and drew in a shuddering breath, telling herself calmly that tonight’s rendezvous was necessary, and the sooner she left, the sooner she would be back in her lover’s arms.

She just hoped Riley didn’t touch her. Her hand, her arm, anything. She feared she might grow sick at that.

Spike had explained that this might happen. In the first few years of a vampiric claim, he said, were the intermediate period as both the body and the mysticism involved crested into form. Therefore, after significant blood exchanges, particularly after lovemaking, the link between them was the strongest. And any separation became unbearable. There were mornings when she awoke with him inside her, sleeping peacefully, but needing that extra connection.

Needing to be a part of her.

It happened usually only after periods of mutual blood exchange, which was why, she presumed, Spike had not offered his throat to her after their tryst in the hallway the week before. The night she had met the god that was determined to destroy her. The god, the reason she was meeting with Riley tonight.

She needed every station ready. Every ounce of force she could muster focused on the god that was in Sunnydale. The god that had made her bleed.

And that meant turning to the man that could just as easily become an even larger enemy.

The man that had the means of destroying the love of her life.

Which was why she had to protect him tonight.

And go alone.

*~*~*


Riley looked appropriately discomfited as he stepped into the diner, blinded immediately by the 50s-esque florescent lights that hung above the counter. Buffy couldn't blame him for his uncertainty; she didn't want to be here, either. For the middle of the night, even in Sunnydale, the place was overcrowded in population. Too many demons running around town, and if one were to approach her, she didn’t know if she would be much use in defending herself.

There was this pain in her gut that wouldn’t subside.

Not to mention, two minutes earlier, something terribly unexpected had happened.

Where the bloody hell are you?

Buffy snapped back, her eyes wide. Spike?

I know there’s a good reason why you’re not in bed right now.

What he was saying was inconsequential at the moment. He was in her head. Spike was talking to her in her head.

Spike, I…why are you in my head?

Why aren’t you in bed?

I… Buffy paused and smiled at the waitress that handed her the chocolate malt she’d ordered. I…go back to sleep, Spike.

Like hell.

Of course he sensed the minute that Riley walked into the diner, and she felt a surge of foreign rage. She drew in a deep breath and attempted to shut him out, but there was no way now that he knew where she was and that she wasn’t alone. She did her best to smile at the big hulking solider, which only incited her mate’s outrage.

What are you doing meeting another man?

Buffy couldn’t help but grin at that. It was cute, the way he was so insanely jealousy when there was absolutely no reason to be. What do you think I’m doing?

Buffy…

I’m gonna do him right here on this table.

You think you’re funny, don’t you?

He’s so big and strong. All that… A frown marred her features and the wave of pained nausea that became more prominent every minute of their separation threatened to take a violent turn. Okay. I can’t go through with it. Just eww.

Come. Home. Now.

I will in a minute. You think I wanna be here? “Hi, Riley,” she said, her hands on her knees under the table. Her earlier fear that her stomach might turn over if she touched him had been replaced with fear that Spike would tear into the diner the second that her skin met his. “Thanks for coming.”

He nodded. “Well, your call was so mysterious, I couldn’t refuse.”

You called this wanker?

Yes, I have been known to have phone calls without your knowledge. And…you can hear him?

“I’m not going to waste time with pleasantries,” she said aloud, her eyes struggling to meet her dining companion’s. “You work for the Initiative, I work for the Powers That Be. We’re essentially on the same team, so I think that you have a right to know this.”

“You’re out without your husband?” Riley looked especially skeptical at this. “No offense, but the last time I saw you, it seemed he was…really possessive.”

Buffy fought off a grin. “Nah, he’s just…he really, really doesn’t…”

Yes, he is really possessive an’ if you know what’s good for you, you fucking wanker—

Better to cut to the chase. She needed to talk her spiel and get home before Spike showed up and provided Riley with an up close demonstration on how well the Initiative chip was working. “Here’s the deal. Vampires and demons aside, there’s a god in Sunnydale. Powerful. Gave me the beating of my life. She wants something and she won’t stop until she has it. I don’t know what sort’ve resources department you have, but you need to look into her, okay?”

“A god?”

“Yes.”

“A female god?”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed at that. “The god’s sex is what you find surprising about this?”

“Well, no. I guess I…” He frowned. “You don’t hear of many female gods, is all.”

Wanker.

She inwardly snorted her agreement.

“Yeah. Just don’t tell the Greeks, the Romans, or pretty much any non-Judeo-Christian culture.” That’s my girl. “Listen, the only thing you need to know is that she’s here, and she’s powerful enough to hit me and make it hurt for more than just a couple hours.”

“Well, Buffy…”

She scowled. “Okay. I’ve told you what you need to know.”

Riley rose to his feet as she tossed a few bills onto the table, his eyes dark with dissatisfaction. “You’ve told me nothing. The last time I saw you, you were cold and displaced and…nothing like you were before you disappeared for—”

“I went to Natchez to do my job.”

“We were dating before you went to Natchez, and you come back married?”

If he touches you, he’s gonna lose somethin’.

“We weren’t dating,” she retorted. “We’d gone out on, what…once, twice?”

“You weren’t like this before you met him.”

Her eyes narrowed and bit her tongue. The fact that she’d known Spike a good two years longer than she’d known Riley wasn’t relevant, and it would contradict what she had told the big brooding jock the last time around. It was infinitely better to say nothing at all. “Look, I don’t owe you any explanations, all right? I’m with Spike. I came here to give you some information because, seeing as you’re in my town with your government organization, I think it might be beneficial to keep an open ear if something happens.”

“Do you love him?” Riley pressed. “Does he make you happy?”

There was silence from Spike’s end. She felt an unexpected rush of tension, as though her answer wasn’t as predictable as the sun’s morning rise.

“I love him very much,” she said. “And there’s no one who could make me happier.”

He smiled softly and nodded, disheartened but genuine. “That’s all I need to know. As long as you’re happy, Buffy…well, I…” He trailed off despondently, glanced down, and nodded once more. “So, a god. A female god?”

“Yes. Strawberry blonde, a little taller than me…oh, and did I mention insane?”

“I’ll look into it.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, and her body nearly lurched with the need to jerk away. “It was good seeing you.”

Her reply was neither honest nor a lie. She didn’t know how it was seeing Riley, but felt it was fair to credit him for his surprisingly open-minded understanding of her relationship. Her marriage, as it was. The way she had left him might have been unfair, but she wouldn’t trade what she had gained for the world. “You, too.”

It wasn’t until she was halfway home that Spike made his presence known again. A tender rumble in her system, inspiring a smile to her face. The passion in his voice overwhelmed her. As though his love was a tangible thing, spreading warmly through her body with that blessed reassurance of being.

I love you so much.

I know. Love you, too.

I’ll keep makin’ you happy.

I know. And I’ll be home soon. She paused. And, umm, about this telekinetic thing we’re doing now…

Claim related, I’m guessin’. We’ll phone Rupert. Get home.

I’m coming.

She could almost see his smirk. Not yet you’re not.

Buffy grinned and picked up her pace.

Hearing her lover’s thoughts, she realized, did have its perks.

*~*~*

Washington, DC

“I’ve actually been to Kirkwood, California,” Sam said miserably, scooping at the last of his melting ice-cream. “I taught a lecture there on Law and Physics in Every Day Life.”

Willow arched a brow, drawing her eyes away from the window, where she had been admiring a slightly used Mercedes. She wasn’t one to make a habit of studying cars, but she did have an appreciation for the finer examples of automotive models. “Physics?”

“Well, maybe more the ‘law’ part. I was there with Dr. Terrance Polanski of John Hopkins. We tag-teamed it.” He offered a sheepish smile. “My knowledge of physics isn’t exactly reputable. The point is, I should’ve…when I practiced my opening statements, I said California, didn’t I? I never said Oregon. I was…” A frown. “I just had Oregon on the brain today.”

She smiled softly and patted his hand, taking a bite of her own ice-cream. “It wasn’t as bad as all that,” she said. “Really, it could’ve been worse.”

Sam looked at her dubiously.

“Okay, maybe not…” She sighed and soothed him with a long kiss. “It…just look at it this way, we know not to be overconfident again when you go on these debate things. I mean, we were pretty overconfident today.”

“I thought I was going to be debating Wengland. If I had been…he wouldn’t have known California from Kazakhstan.”

Willow chuckled her amusement. “Well, next time.”

“A blonde, leggy Republican. Who’d’ve thought?”

“Must you continue to say that? Reminding me that she was blonde and leggy?” Willow huffed. “I’m all…redhead and freckly.”

Sam grinned. “I happen to like your freckles,” he said, nearing to kiss her lips again.

A brief, tender moment that was cut short by the sudden explosion of a flash, blinding for the way it smacked against the glass of the parlor. Willow reeled back in shock, her eyes wide with horror. Her mouth was tingling from the impression of her boyfriend’s kiss, her eyes clouded with multicolored shapeless forms, settling somehow in the direction of the offending infringement. And her blood froze at what she saw.

Outside, on the sidewalk, a man with a large camera waved to her with a broad, toothy smile, then hopped into the car behind him. The Mercedes that had been docile just seconds before, roaring to life and pulling seamlessly into the empty street. With a camera. With Sam’s image captured on film, his mouth on hers.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Sam? How long was he—”

His expression was nearly unreadable, a mixture of shock and anger. “Well,” he retorted, “that was predictable.”

“Sam?” She shook her head. “The flash went off. It got caught in the glare. It had to.”

“He took more than that one. That one was to get our attention.” Sam’s voice was rough and irritable, and he whipped his cell phone out his pocket. “To gloat.”

“Oh my God!”

He met her eyes at that, his own softening. “It’s okay, Willow.”

The words, however appreciated, did nothing to ease her nerves. Her heart was thundering, her temples were throbbing. She couldn’t see for the rising panic that clamored in her chest. “No,” she protested, “it’s not. Ohmigod, ohmigod. What were we thinking? What…god, I’m so…”

Her boyfriend didn’t answer. Whoever he was calling had picked up.

“CJ?” Sam released a deep breath, lacing his fingers through hers. “I’ve got a problem.” A pause. “Well, you know how you said you’re my first phone call?”

TBC