Early evening hours same day, Saturday, April, 16^th, 2011, Gift-less Dimension:

Buffy leaned heavily on the tile wall of the shower and let the warm water pound down on her head and wash her tears away. The shower area was built for twenty, but she was alone in here.  Annie had already gotten a shower and was in the locker room area changing back into her clothes. Her only clothes. It seemed a shame to put those dirty things back on, but it was all they had.

For his part, Riley hadn’t said a single word to Buffy when Spike asked him to show her and Annie to the showers, but his red, glowing eyes never left her.  It gave Buffy the wiggins right down to her bones.  She couldn’t read anything in them – not surprise, happiness, anger, or confusion. They were a blank slate to her and that added to the wigginess.

Riley looked pretty much the same as the memories she had of him from this world. Apple-pie, all-American good looks. Unlike Spike, he’d kept his hair trimmed short; he wore an olive green army t-shirt and heavy fatigue pants in the same color. His black boots clunked loudly as he walked down the hallway towards the showers with the same lumbering gait that he’d had in life. The muscles of his chest and arms bulged against the soft fabric of his shirt, which clung lightly to his torso hinting at a hard flat stomach beneath. He’d always been big, but now he seemed even bigger to Buffy, bulkier, stronger, maybe even taller.  But the biggest difference was in his eyes. Red. Dead. Demonic.

Finn’s eyes never morphed back to the soft hazel he’d had in life, even in his ‘human’ visage. Spike told Buffy it was because he was a ‘half-breed’: drained by one of the Jacks then turned by him.

When Riley found them standing outside the doors of the base camp, Spike had ushered Buffy and Annie inside the fortress then pulled Riley away into a room with an actual door on it and spoke with him at length. Buffy couldn’t see or hear what went on in there. She assumed Spike had been trying to explain where he’d been, and Buffy and Annie’s presence to Riley … the man she now knew was also his childe and lover.

Despite the warm water flowing over her, Buffy shivered at the thought of Spike and Riley as lovers. A knife twisted in her gut, she tried to stop thinking about it. She couldn’t. It was like trying to look away from a horror movie: you know you don't want to see any more of it, but you simply can't force your eyes away from it.

Buffy dropped down onto her knees under the warm spray of the shower and sobbed. Her counterpart failed Spike in this world, failed all her friends really – failed Dawn.  Her heart ached for them all, but for Spike more than any.  Forced into this life out of guilt and some twisted sense of loyalty to her memory, he’d perhaps sacrificed the most. He could’ve easily turned his back on them all; the world was full of demons now, or at least this part of the world. He could’ve run amok, gone back to his old ways, left a trail destruction and mayhem in his wake. With the exception of Dawn, who was comatose, there was no one left that expected anything better from William the Bloody. No one except William the Bloody himself.

There were plenty of dead and dying humans that he could’ve fed from, even with the chip. He could’ve simply formed an alliance with some of the Jacks or other lesser demons to kill the humans for him so he could feed, or just stolen their kills … it would’ve been a simple enough thing.  He’d shown his ability to best them not twenty-four hours ago; he’d dusted one of the Jacks that very first night. He could’ve become their leader, their king – he could’ve ruled the underworld. He didn’t. He stayed. He helped. He fought. He kept his promise.

“Mom?” Annie called softly as she came back into the shower area, a towel was twisted up around her long, wet hair like a turban and another wrapped around her body. “Mom? Are you okay?” she asked gently as she walked closer to Buffy.

Buffy tried to sniff back her tears, clear her throat, and swallow the anguish back as she nodded. “I’m … fine,” she stammered, her voice cracking. She was clearly lying.

Annie went down onto her knees next to her mother, soaking the towels around her body as she laid a comforting hand on Buffy's shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Mama,” Annie offered solemnly.

Buffy squeezed her eyes closed, but couldn’t stop the sob that escaped her throat even as she tried to nod her agreement. She didn’t want her daughter to see her like this. She needed to stay strong for her.

“It’ll be alright,” Annie repeated. “Spike’ll help us get home,” the girl assured her as she wrapped her arm further around Buffy’s shoulders.

Buffy nodded again but couldn’t force any words past the lump in her throat. She should be the one saying that to Annie. She should be the one comforting her daughter, not the other way around.  As they sat on the cool floor of the shower, Buffy drew her girl into a tight hug. The Slayer’s tears continued to fall, mixing with the water that poured over them and flowing like so many raindrops down the drain and out to the ocean.

“I love you, baby,” Buffy finally choked out. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mama. Please don’t cry.”

**~**

When they emerged from the locker room, Spike was waiting for them in the hallway. He pushed off the wall where he'd been leaning and regarded Buffy – she’d been crying, he knew. Her red-rimmed, swollen eyes would’ve given it away, even if he couldn’t smell the salty tears still on her skin.  A knife twisted in his chest; he never wanted to be the source of her tears and he was sure that he was, at least partly.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I … uhhh … thought you might want t’ see Dawn before supper,” he offered, his voice gentle.

Buffy gave him a small smile and nodded. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

Dawn had the largest room by far, despite the fact that she’d never awoken after going into shock nearly ten years ago.  The room was clean, hospital clean, and smelled of Lysol and ammonia, two of Buffy’s favorite scents … not. There was a television, the first Buffy had seen, on the wall at the foot of the bed. An episode of 'Star Trek: The Next Generation' played on it, the volume low, just barely audible.  Buffy realized it was from a DVD player, not a TV signal they were picking up. There was a small cot off to one side; Buffy thought it was perhaps for a nurse, but then realized it was more likely Spike’s.

Dawn’s skin was pasty-grey. If not for the even rise and fall of her chest, she would’ve looked dead. They had been forced to cut her hair short; it was simply too hard to keep it detangled and clean otherwise. It looked dull, brittle, and lifeless, not the shiny, bouncing, silky tresses she’d had before. Despite the small feeding tube running into her nose, she looked thin to Buffy; Dawn had never been heavy, but now she looked gaunt, her muscles atrophied. There were special boots on her feet that kept her ankles bent as if she were standing. Spike explained it was to keep her ankles from freezing straight and her toes from curling unnaturally; this way, when she did wake up, she would be able to stand properly. Her caretaker took the boots off each day and worked her ankles, feet, and knees, making sure they all kept some range of motion.  

Buffy stepped closer and laid her hand on Dawn’s shoulder. Spike held Annie back a couple of feet to give Buffy a little space. The girl from the Wish-World that had helped her, the only one that actually believed her, came back to Buffy’s mind and she smiled despite the moisture pooling in her eyes again.  Despite Dawn leaving her alone after Buffy had killed Hallie, a human at the time, Buffy was sure that she would have never even gotten out of the crazy ward at Bedlam if it hadn’t been for her sister. Dawn had been brave and smart. She’d shown a ton of moxy and risked everything to help Buffy; Buffy wanted to find a way to return the favor.

“Dawn?” Buffy ventured softly. “Dawnie? It’s Buffy … I’m here. Can you hear me? Dawnie?”

But Dawn didn’t flinch or move, not a muscle twitched, her breathing didn’t change. Nothing happened.

Spike’s heart fell. He was so hopeful that having Buffy back would bring the Niblett out of it. If she could just hear Buffy’s voice, feel her sister’s touch, the girl would wake up.  He thought God had finally tossed him a small crumb for his years of sacrifice for the greater good, but no. Apparently the Biggest Bad’s twisted sense of humor was still firmly intact.

Buffy turned to Spike and gave him an apologetic look as she shook her head slightly.  Spike nodded and dropped his eyes to the floor. He would have to face facts. Dawn wasn’t going to wake up. For all intents and purposes, he’d been protecting a corpse for ten years … a breathing corpse.

“Can I … try?” Annie offered shyly. She was really curious to see this girl that was like her – the Key.  Since she’d first been able to understand the ramifications of her Keyness, she’d always felt a little bit like a freak because of it. She couldn’t tell anyone about it or talk about it outside of her family; not even her best friend Janice knew. Now, here was someone that was just like her – it was practically a miracle. She felt an immediate kindredness towards Dawn and wished more than anything that she could talk to her.

“Sure, honey,” Buffy agreed, taking a step back.

Annie stepped up and studied Dawn’s face, then gently brushed back a few strands of short, brunette hair from the other girl’s forehead. Buffy’s sister looked so fragile that it made Annie afraid to touch her too hard lest she bruise. The comatose girl’s skin was so pale that Annie could see the blue blood vessels running like lines on a roadmap just under the surface. There was no movement from Dawn other than the steady rise and fall of her chest with slow, shallow breaths.

“Hi,” Annie whispered to her. “I’m Annie. The monks made me too … I’m a Key, just like you.”

Annie watched for any signs of comprehension on Dawn’s face, but didn’t see any. She forged ahead. “My mom died fighting Glory just like your sister did … but Dad and aunt Willow brought her back.  I don’t really remember ‘cos I was just little, but Dad always tells me the story so it’s almost like I remember.

“Spike really loves you and would really love you to wake up,” Annie continued. “If you woke up, he wouldn’t be so sad and … my mom’s here. It would almost be like having your sister back … it would be like she came back to life, like my mom did.”

Annie stopped and waited. She brushed her fingertips lightly across Dawn’s cheek, but still nothing happened.

“I’d really love you to wake up too,” Annie admitted at last. “I wish I could talk to you.”

Annie finally sighed and turned around dejectedly.  “I guess she doesn’t want to talk,” she told the adults who were standing behind her waiting.

“It’s ok, honey – it was nice of you to try,” Buffy assured her daughter, pulling her into a hug.

**~**

After spending another fifteen minutes with the comatose girl, Spike, Buffy, and Annie emerged from Dawn’s room. In the hallway Spike announced, “Here come your mates … Glinda and Harris,” tilting his head towards the approaching couple.

Buffy looked down the hallway in the direction he indicated and furrowed her brow. She quickly looked the other way, but there was no one there, so she looked back.

A pair of what looked like gladiators strode deliberately towards them.  The man had long, wavy, dark brown hair pulled back from his face into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His face was stern and his features chiseled. There was a firm set to his jaw and his face was bisected by an angry scar that ran from his right temple down to his lips, which were nothing more than a thin, hard line. His brown eyes looked old and calloused, as if they’d seen too many horrors in their life.  Although not as tall as Riley, Xander’s body was just as cut, and the muscles of his arms bulged against the once-red, now faded to auburn, t-shirt he wore under an army-green flack-jacket. A cross-bow rested against his back within easy reach, the strap slung across his chest. Near his right hand on his belt he had a stun gun, on his left side there was a scabbard with a stake. In his left hand he carried a heavy, double-headed axe. It swung dangerously close to his leg, but he didn’t seem to notice the danger.  His walk was purposeful; there was no meandering or light joviality to it. He appeared to be a warrior on a mission.

The woman with him was just a little shorter than Xander. Her light brown hair had been cut in a bob and hung barely to her shoulders.  If she’d been taller, Buffy would’ve thought her an Amazon woman. The muscles of her arms, although not nearly as large as Xander’s, were equally defined, and her body was lean and hard. She was, in a word, svelte. Her large, blue eyes seemed to be in constant motion, as if scanning the landscape for danger. Her features held no scars, but there was a haunted appearance to her, giving the impression that, like Xander, Tara had seen too many horrors in her life. It appeared that she wore just a flack-jacket on top, but Buffy realized she had a white ribbed tank top on under it when they got closer. Tara had a sword strapped across her back, the hilt within easy reach above her left shoulder. The end of the sword’s sheath tapped on something metal that Buffy couldn’t see at the back of her belt and made a metallic ‘tinging’ sound with every step.  Like Xander, Tara had a wooden stake in a scabbard and a stun gun strapped to her belt. Despite her shorter legs, her stride matched his purposeful pace step for step.

They both wore army-green fatigue pants and heavy black boots, but unlike Riley, their steps were light and nearly silent, even in the safety of the base camp. Without vampire strength, they had learned to rely on cunning and stealth to survive the years they’d spent battling the demons.

“Spike, we’ve got some problems …” Xander started as the two warriors approached the trio in the hallway. “Something’s up with the Reds, they’re…” Xander stopped midsentence as he looked at the person standing next to Spike.

His eyes narrowed as he studied Buffy’s face, then looked down her body slowly, as if looking for clues to her identity, and finally looked back at her face. “When did Warren fix the Bot? I thought we were out of parts… We could’ve used her today – the damn Reds tried to burn down The House. We took a few out, but it’s nearly destroyed. We radioed in, but Andrew said you were out.”

“I know about the bloody house, I was in it,” Spike informed him. “Not the Bot, Harris – it’s Buffy; flesh and bone.”

“What are you talking about, Spike? Did you get a hold of some of those funny mushrooms again? You know what they do to you,” Xander started with a scolding tone.

Spike’s brows shot up as he drew back his fist and punched Xander hard in the mouth. Buffy’s eyes went wide and she backed up a step, pulling Annie with her. To her surprise, Xander didn’t react or retaliate; he just wiped the blood from his lip and looked at Spike like nothing had happened.

“Not the Bot,” Spike stated again, his voice firm. “This is Buffy – not our Buffy, o’ course, but one that’s dropped in on us for a bit of a 'oliday. Brought ‘er daughter with her – Anne Joyce.”

Xander turned his eyes back to Buffy, finally noticing the girl that was now behind the Slayer. “You’re what’s got the Reds all crazy,” he realized. “The scent of a Slayer. Great, just what we need,” he groaned, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.

Buffy furrowed her brow. That was it? That was her big ‘welcome back from the dead’ from the man that had been one of her best friends since high school?

“Yeah,” Spike confirmed. “Get cleaned up – you can brief me over supper.”

“Right,” Xander agreed and turned to leave.

Buffy stuck her hand out and grabbed his arm. “Xander, it’s me – it’s really Buffy,” she offered.

Xander nodded. “Yeah, I get it,” he told her coldly before pulling free and heading down the hallway.

Buffy turned her eyes to Tara.  “Tara, I …”

There seemed to a slight softening in the white witch’s blue eyes. A flicker of emotion that Buffy couldn’t identify darted over the witch’s face, but then was quickly replaced with a mask of indifference. “Don’t worry about him, he’s just cranky. He gets that way when the demons start getting antsy,” Tara advised. There was no stuttering to her words, just a calm confidence as she explained Xander’s actions.

“Or when the bloody sun doesn’t shine,” Spike added tersely.

Tara shrugged her agreement of Spike’s assessment, an almost-smile briefly touched just the corners of her mouth.

“See you at supper, then,” Tara ducked her head and excused herself, then hurried to catch up with Xander.

“What’s wrong with them?” Buffy asked Spike when they were out of earshot.

“I told you before, Buffy, the people here aren’t the people you knew. Don’t expect them to be. None of us.”

“Are they … together?”

Spike snorted harshly. “They ‘aven’t changed that much. Leopards don’t change their spots, Slayer. Misery just loves company, I reckon … they fight together – that's the long and short of it.”

Buffy nodded sadly and looked down the hall in the direction they’d gone. She watched Xander enter one room and Tara another. They were both alone. Just like Spike, they’d both lost the people they’d loved and all they were left with were faded memories to keep them company.

**~**

Buffy and Annie sat in silence as they ate supper in the cafeteria. The large room was empty save for the core leaders, the other inhabitants of the base camp having eaten earlier.  Spike sat at the head of the table with Riley to his right and Xander to his left.  Tara sat next to Xander and Warren next to Riley.  Annie and Buffy shared the other end of the table from Spike, which she understood was normally Oz’s place when he was ‘in camp’.

She and Annie practically inhaled the spaghetti and meat sauce that was the main course … well, the only course. They were both starving after having nothing but a couple of cans of vegetables to sustain them over the last twenty-four hours.  Buffy watched as everyone at the table related their experiences and observations of the day, not so much to the other members of the team, but mainly to Spike. It was clear he was the leader of this band of misfits, and apparently he led with an iron fist, as he’d demonstrated when Xander questioned his lucidity earlier.

Buffy tried to follow what they were talking about, but there were so many demon names that she didn’t understand and names of places that she didn’t know, that she really couldn’t keep up. She did realize that most everyone called the Jacks ‘Reds’ – except Spike who now called them ‘Jacks’, causing a bit of confusion for a few minutes.  The gist of it, she realized, was that her presence here had incited the Jacks, the giant vampire bats, which, thankfully everyone just called ‘bats’, and the Turok-Han, which the group often called the ‘Big Uglies’. Apparently all the demons in town were now looking for her in earnest.  

“It’s only a matter of time before they track the Slayer here,” Xander was advising Spike. “We need to get her back to wherever she came from before they figure it out.”

“Not sure how easy that’s gonna be t’ do. The portal’s apparently ‘bout twenty feet over Bob’s pit at ground zero.  Gonna have to build a platform … a ladder or somethin’ to get them back up there,” Spike informed Xander.

“Ummm …” Buffy interrupted, raising her hand. “Who’s Bob?”

Spike turned his eyes from Xander down the table to look at her. “The overgrown ant lion … Bob the Bug.”

“You … named the demon bug?” Buffy asked incredulously. “He almost killed us!”

Spike shrugged. “Consider ‘im an ally – as long as you aren’t daft enough t’ fall in, he’s no threat. Taken out a good number ‘o demons over the years, he has. We don’t mess with 'im, he don’t mess with us. Works out brilliantly.”

“Oh,” was the only thing Buffy could think to say to that, still slightly taken aback by the fact that they had named the bug.

“Is the portal still open?” Warren wondered. He made Buffy’s skin crawl. He hadn’t changed at all. He still looked like the geeky, weasel-y jerk that killed both his girlfriend, Katrina, and Tara in the other dimension. Buffy had no problem not trusting him.

“No, it closed on its own when they popped through,” Spike answered him.

“How will they re-open it?” Warren continued, looking down the table at Buffy while they talked about her like she wasn’t even there.

“Hello! ‘They’ are right here! Annie’s …” she began to answer his question, but Spike cut her off.

“They’ve got a way – it’s none of your concern,” Spike stated unequivocally, narrowing his eyes at Buffy and silently telling her to ‘shut her gob’ about Annie. Trust no one.

“Great … so we have to build another tower while fighting off the bats, the Reds, and the Big Uglies. Another day in paradise,” Xander actually quipped, although the tone of his voice was flat, holding no humor at all.

“Uhhh … could the Slayer say something?” Buffy questioned and all eyes turned to her. “Maybe, instead of trying to get rid of me, you could use me to kill the bad guys. I am the Slayer, after all, it’s kind of a thing I do.”

“Oh, right,” Spike spoke up. “Like you killed ‘em yesterday? Seems to me I had to save your ass from being eaten.”

Buffy harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t have any weapons then. I didn’t know the rules had changed and you had to poke the Jacks in the eye to dust them. I’m still the Slayer and, as I recall, I kicked your skinny ass pretty handily,” she retorted haughtily.

Everyone drew in a breath and held it as they looked back at Spike with wide eyes.

“Would you excuse us a mo'?  Need a word with the Slayer,” Spike’s voice rumbled deeply and everyone but Buffy and Annie jumped up from the table and cleared the room as if someone had yelled ‘Fire!’

Spike stood up slowly and stalked down to the end of the table where Buffy and Annie sat. He leaned down, putting one hand on the table in front of her and one on the back of Buffy’s chair. “You’re new here and you don’t know the rules, so I’m gonna let this one slide, Slayer. But don’t ever … ever talk to me like that again, ya got it?  It took a bloody long time for me to gain their respect and when you’re long gone, off skipping through a flowery meadow with your sweet little blondie bear, I’ll still be here, fighting – keeping m’ promise.”

“You’ve changed,” Buffy informed him, meeting his gaze defiantly.

“Told ya that before, Slayer.”

Maybe Spike didn’t understand her statement – she didn’t mean he’d changed since before she died, she meant he’d changed in just the last couple of hours. He’d changed since he’d told her the story of Riley’s demise and admitted their … relationship. Was that the reason for his change or was it because she couldn’t wake Dawn up?

Buffy’s heart grew cold under his gaze. He seemed to be stabbing icicles into her soul with the frostiness that had formed in his normally warm eyes. An involuntarily shiver ran through her. “Why?” she asked as she searched his eyes for some hint of the teasing and protective Spike that had been with her and Annie the last twenty-four hours.

“Private party?” came a voice from the doorway, interrupting them, and Spike stood up, never taking his stern gaze off Buffy.

“No, c’mon in – bring the other gits with ya,” Spike addressed the voice without looking.

When the blond vamp finally moved back to his place at the head of the table, the others were coming back through the door. The new voice, she realized, was Oz.

Out of habit, Oz headed to his spot at the end of the table, but stopped short when he realized someone was already sitting there. He stared at Buffy a moment, then at Annie. His nose seemed to twitch, as if he were picking their scent out of the air, but his stoic expression never changed. His appearance hadn’t changed much either; his red hair was longer, shaggier and he had a thin beard covering his face. He wore a bright teal bowling shirt and loose fitting jeans over a pair of black Converse All-Stars – he looked like he was just getting in from playing a gig at the Bronze.

“It’s really Buffy,” Xander offered.

“Yeah, I pretty much get that,” Oz replied dryly as he turned his attention to the empty table next to them and pulled another chair over.

Without any other question about where Buffy had come from or why she was here, Oz turned and addressed Spike. “Octopussy’s back,” Oz stated, as if that was the most natural thing in the world to say.

Spike nodded. “Just one?”

“Looks like. Going for the Olga Maersk this time.”

Spike nodded thoughtfully, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them. Buffy thought he looked like a broody Angel when he did that, but resisted the urge to say so lest she provoke another scolding.

“Going after the food supply. Smart,” he finally offered before looking at Tara.

“Think you can mojo it away again, Glinda?”

Tara shrugged. “Should be able to.”

“Brilliant. We’ll go tomorrow, then,” Spike summarized as he began to stand up and adjourn the meeting, it had been a long day.

“Got more,” Oz stopped him.

Spike settled back into his chair and looked at the smaller man expectantly.

“Reds are trying to conjure something, not sure what. Demon conjuring never ends well,” Oz related.

“Where?” Spike asked.

“Mexican Reefer, aft starboard hold,” Oz supplied and Spike nodded again as if Oz had actually spoken the Queen’s English.

“We’ll check it out at the same time then. Be ready at noon,” he told the group standing up and heading out of the room without another word, Riley following behind him like a puppy.

“Hey,” Oz offered belatedly to Buffy as if she was someone he saw every day.

“Hey,” she replied. Taking the risk of sounding like a naïve ten year old, she asked, “What’s a Mexican reefer?”

“A ship.”

“Oh … why do you call it that? Do you store your stash on it or something?”

“That’s its name – big letters on the back, kinda in the middle,” Oz explained, holding his hands up as if to frame the name in the middle.

“Oh. Interesting name. Well, that’s a good policy then … calling things by their actual names like that so everyone can understand.”

Oz shrugged noncommittally. “Well, we tried using totally different names for things, but it didn’t really work out.”

Buffy nodded. “What are the demons trying to conjure?”

Oz shook his head. “Dunno.”

“Have they conjured things before?” she wondered.

“Yeah.”

“And it never ends well…” Buffy supplied.

“Never,” Oz agreed.

Buffy sighed. Talking to Oz was like talking to a dictionary with all but one page ripped out.

“Buffy?” Tara interrupted their tantalizing, in-depth conversation.

“Yeah?” Buffy turned her eyes to the woman.

“Spike asked me to get you and Annie a room … you’re probably tired.”

Buffy smiled and nodded. “Not sure that ‘tired’ begins to define it,” she agreed, standing up stiffly and grabbing Annie’s hand.

“Breakfast is at seven … but if you miss it you can get something from the pantry. I think there’re pickled beets and … oh, green beans in there,” Tara offered, waving a hand towards a door that, handily, said ‘Pantry’ on it.

“Two of our favorites,” Buffy quipped with fake enthusiasm.

“We’re running kinda low on the canned goods,” Tara offered as explanation. “Maybe we can get more tomorrow after we take care of these problems down at the docks.”

“What’s an Octopussy?” Buffy asked as she followed Tara to their room.

“It’s a big demon that looks like an octopus. The guys just like to say ‘Octopussy’ … they’re perpetually twelve,” Tara explained rolling her eyes.

“Big as in … like a submarine big?” Buffy asked as bells started blaring in her brain.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s pretty big.”

“And you ‘mojo it away’? Where do you mojo them away to?” Buffy wondered, although she was starting to think she knew.

“Not sure … Willow had a spell she’d come up with to try on Glory. It was supposed to send her to another dimension and get her out of our hair. She never had a chance to finish it or try it, though. I tweaked it a little and use it for the really big demons that we can’t fight.”

“To get them out of your hair,” Buffy added. “And … what? Drop them into someone else’s? That could give someone a really bad hair day.”

Tara shrugged. “I don’t think they really go to another dimension, I don’t have the power that Willow did. I think they just get dropped over by Japan or something. The Japanese should appreciate them. They’re used to having their cities destroyed by giant monsters – haven’t you ever seen ‘Godzilla’ or ‘Rodan’?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. This girl wasn’t the Tara she knew. For one thing, the Tara she knew wouldn’t use magic without knowing the consequences. Spike’s words rang in her ears, They’ve changed. We all have.

“You think? You don’t know?” Buffy asked more harshly than she intended.

“Hey – I’m helping here,” Tara defended. “I didn’t give up and commit suicide by taking a nose dive off the tower like some people!”

“What?!” Buffy exclaimed as she stopped and turned to face the white witch. “Is that what you think she did? Is that what everyone here thinks?”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? You saw the portal opening, all the demons pouring in, and you just didn’t want to deal. I saw it myself just before the tower fell on me, you just jumped off the gangplank.”

“No! No! That’s not what happened at all! I … she … Buffy jumped into the portal to close it,” Buffy defended. “I did it to save you all!” she added, tired of trying to find the right pronoun to use for someone that was her, but not.

Tara snorted softly. “Yeah, well … good work with that,” she sniffed derisively and turned on her heel, leaving Buffy and Annie standing in front of what was apparently, their room: directly across the hall from Spike and Riley’s.

**~**

“What’s wrong with everyone?” Annie asked as they ducked past the heavy quilt that hung over the opening and into their room.

Buffy shook her head and sighed. “They … they’ve been through a lot,” she told her daughter. “They aren’t the same as the people we know. We just need to try and get home – soon.”

“Even dad … I mean, Spike, is being all mean. He wasn’t like that earlier,” Annie pointed out. “He didn’t talk to me at all … and he never said ‘luv’ or ‘pet’ one time since we came in this place.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s got him all bad-moody,” Buffy admitted with a frown.

“I never heard Dad talk to you like that before … I mean he was so …” Annie’s voice trailed off as she tried to figure out what it was that was different. She’d heard her parents fight before, of course, but today at dinner it was somehow different.

“Cold,” Buffy provided, knowing exactly what Annie was talking about.

Annie shrugged. “Yeah,” she agreed.

Buffy let out a long breath. “I don’t know – I’m too tired now to try and figure it out. Let’s get some sleep, ok – tomorrow’s another day.”

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Annie pressed on.

“Sure, honey.”

“Is Spike … ummm … is he like … gay?”

Buffy took a deep breath in through her mouth and blew it out through her nose trying to figure out how to answer that question. “No.”  It was a cop-out. It was all she could manage in her exhaustion. She hoped Annie would drop it.

“So …. he’s just friends with that Riley guy?” Annie continued in earnest, her look was doubtful.

Buffy sighed. “No … not exactly.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t think Spike loves him. He never says nice things to him. And, isn’t Spike supposed to be just like Dad? Dad’s not gay,” she asserted. “Plus – he loved Buffy … so …”

“It’s complicated, honey. They … He …” Buffy stammered, unsure what to tell her, then repeated, “It’s complicated.”

Annie scrunched her face up in frustration. “I’m not eleven anymore,” she asserted in annoyance.

“I know that. I know you’re old enough to understand – I just wish I was old enough to explain it to you,” Buffy admitted, rubbing tiredly at her eyes.

Annie gave her a disbelieving look.

“He … Ok, ummm … Riley’s a vampire,” Buffy tried again. “And so is Spike. And so they … paired up. They have … something in common and so ...” Buffy stopped and sighed. “Honey, I think he was just lonely, and in this world Riley is the one person he feels like he has some kind of connection with.  Spike’s not gay … he’s just … I guess … open-minded.”

“He’s bi?” Annie asked, surprising Buffy. “Is Dad bi, too?!” Annie continued, her voice growing strained, as her brain whirled with that possibility.

“Where did you learn that?” Buffy asked her daughter, ignoring the second question completely.

Anne shrugged. “I’m twelve. I hear things.”

“Yes you do,” Buffy agreed with a slight groan. “Can we go to sleep now? I’m really tired.”

It didn’t escape Annie’s notice that her mom hadn’t answered her question about her dad. That fact, in and of itself, was an answer. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was weird enough to think about your parents having sex, but to think about something like that? To think about them having sex with someone else? Someone else of the same gender?  It was all, well … very squicky.

How did two people of the same gender have sex, exactly?  Her mom hadn’t covered that in ‘the talk’ and Anya’s book hadn’t shown that, either.  Of course, her mom forgot the cramps thing in ‘the talk’ too. Annie was starting to think they needed another talk.

Finally realizing she would get no more information from her mom on this subject, Annie nodded. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “If Buffy was here, he wouldn’t be with Riley. He still loves her. He told me so.”

Buffy nodded sadly. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

**~**

Buffy noted that Spike had put her scythe, which she’d left in his room earlier, atop the empty dresser in this room. She picked it up and looked under it, sort of hoping for a little note or something from him, but was disappointed to find nothing. She rolled her eyes at her own childish expectation – he wasn’t her Spike; he was Riley’s. Of course he wouldn’t be leaving little notes to, for example, tell her why he was acting like an ass or apologize to her or ask her to meet him somewhere so they could talk in private. Nevertheless, she felt a distinct feeling of loss. She missed the Spike that had been with them on Revello and on the trip to and from the vineyard and wished he'd come back.

Not finding any pajamas or even any other clothes in the room, the two took off their shoes and jeans and climbed into the one double bed in their shirts and undies.  Buffy lay on her back, Annie cuddled up next to her and the girl fell asleep almost immediately. Buffy wasn’t so lucky. The day’s events kept rolling around in her brain as she tried to figure out what made Spike change so drastically. She thought about Spike’s story about turning Riley, her argument with him about it – maybe that was it. Then there was his admission of being lovers with the turned soldier; that was still a bit freaky for Buffy. Although she and Spike rarely talked about his time with Angelus, Dru, and Darla, the little he had said led her to believe he and Angelus had had sex more than once. But Riley? Spike loathed Riley. Of course, Spike loathed Angel, too.

Buffy begged her brain to stop. She needed rest; there was no telling what tomorrow would bring and she needed to be sharp. Just as her brain began to quiet and her eyes closed she heard the unmistakable sound of Spike moaning her name. Her eyes shot open and she looked around their room, but she and Annie were alone. Then she heard it again along with the equally unmistakable sound of love-making.

“Oh God…” she muttered as the volume of the moans and grunts and sounds of flesh slapping against flesh increased. She could hear her name being uttered, moaned, growled, not just by Spike but by Riley too, as the tempo of the slapping flesh quickened and the guttural groans grew louder.

Buffy covered her ears with her hands and closed her eyes, but all she saw when she did that was Spike and Riley … naked, together, flesh on flesh. She opened them again in a flash and concentrated on looking at a clock that sat on a table near the bed. It was the only light she could see in the dark of the room. The last thing she expected tonight was them going all Brokeback Mountain on her. It was one thing to be told they were lovers, quite another to experience it like this. She began to hum, trying anything to get the sound of the two men, who, according to Spike, both saw her when they closed their eyes, out of her brain. Unfortunately, the only song that came to mind for her to hum was ‘I Touch Myself’. This was sooo not working. 

Buffy heard Spike’s roar of release and felt her own panties dampen and her channel begin to throb just from the sound. She was infuriated with herself for letting him get to her that way and tears of frustration stung her eyes. She tried to tell herself that it was only a natural response to hearing what sounded like her husband when he was with her; she was Pavlov’s dog … or, apparently, Spike’s dog. It wasn’t like she was cheating on her husband or lusting after some other man, she assured herself; her lust was for her husband. That sounded good until she reminded herself that it wasn’t her husband across the hall having sex with Riley. She gave up trying to tell herself anything, she was just getting more confused about the whole thing.

She no sooner took her hands away from her ears than the groans and growls started anew.  The sounds of violent, slurping kisses then what she knew was a sloppy wet, passionate blow-job made their way to her ears as both men moaned in pleasure.  She could hear Spike murmuring her name again, his voice a low, rich purr over Riley's moans, and wished to whatever passed for God in this dimension to just make it stop.

“Please stop…” Buffy begged the empty room as she tried to get the unbidden visual of the two vamps out of her mind. She hadn't actually realized she'd spoken aloud.

“What?” Annie called sleepily and Buffy nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Nothing, honey – go back to sleep now,” Buffy cooed as she prayed that Annie didn’t wake up enough to actually focus on the sounds coming from across the hall. She was twelve, after all, as she herself had informed Buffy earlier: she heard things.

Buffy leaned her head down near Annie’s ear and began to softly sing to her, as she tried to get her daughter back to sleep and cover up the sounds which were now growing louder again. She needed a different song than the one running around in her head … she dug deep and finally found it.

“♫ Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a maid sing in the valley below: ‘Oh don't deceive me, Oh never leave me, How could you use a poor maiden so?’♫”

**~**

Three hours and thirteen minutes later the sounds finally stopped filtering into her brain and body from across the hall.  Buffy could’ve told you how many seconds, too, if the clock on the bedside table had displayed them.  She’d never thought she’d miss the ear-splitting sounds of silence that she’d endured the previous night, but during those three hours and thirteen minutes she would’ve given her soul for it.

At nearly two am, Buffy finally, thankfully, fell asleep…

Buffy was swimming in an ocean of crystal-clear water – she was under the water, but could breathe fine as she twirled, dove, and ascended as if she was flying weightlessly. She felt like a mermaid – without the scaly, annoying tail, as the water skimmed over her bare skin and caressed her body with its silky fingers.  When she turned around, Spike was with her and she laughed in delight as he chased her in the warm water. They passed colorful coral and darted in and out of brightly-lit caves with the glee of children.  Spike’s alabaster skin shone in the reflected light of the sun above them like the luster of a perfect pearl; his muscles rippled when he moved, drawing Buffy’s fingers like magnets. 

Buffy let her hands and fingers drift lazily across Spike’s back as he swam back and forth below her. She was reminded of a trip to Sea World and the dolphin petting area. Their skin was just as smooth as silk and Spike’s felt the same way under her palms … although she didn’t have to buy any little dead fish to feed Spike to make him come up to be petted. That was a plus.  Spike turned over and began swimming on his back as Buffy’s hands roamed over the hard muscles of his chest and down his body, following the ‘V’ that formed under his navel and raking lightly over his erection.

Spike moaned in pleasure as he swam back and forth effortlessly in the warm, clear water. The lovely sea creature poured bliss over him with her touch, and he drank it in greedily. She was magnificent. Her hair fanned out in the waves like a golden waterfall, ebbing and flowing all around her beautiful face. Her touch was so light, he could barely tell it from the water washing over him. But where she touched him his skin tingled as if she were made of magic and was transferring it to him through her fingertips.

Spike suddenly lunged up towards her and captured her lips in a passionate kiss as he wrapped his arms around her. His hands roamed up and down her body, from her firm, bare butt, over the swell of her hips and up to the supple roundness of her breasts as he ravaged her lips with his. The pair twirled in the sparkling water as sunlight poured down on them from high above, filtering through the waves and creating ripples of light and shadow on their bare flesh.

“So wet you are,” Spike murmured to her as his finger slid between her pussy lips, probing her soft, slick folds gently.

Buffy moaned in pleasure when he touched her aching, throbbing pussy.  So hungry for him … ravenous, craving his cock, longing for him to fill her. His finger slipped into her – no, not enough. His thumb found her clit and teased it with the touch of a ghost – no, not enough.  More. She needed more.

Suddenly Spike pulled away, gave her a teasing smirk, and began to swim down away from her. No – don’t go! Buffy dove after him, her whole body undulated powerfully as she cut through the water. Spike darted into a wide, dark cave. She followed. The passage narrowed and then brightened; it wasn’t a cave, it was a hallway … smooth and sterile. White floors, white ceiling, white walls. Then she lost him. She was in a maze of colorful quilts and blankets and curtains that hung from nothing within the white cave, still under the water, still swimming and breathing. Where did he go?

Then, there he was, looking out from behind one of the blankets, smiling at her, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. Buffy pulled the blanket down and dropped it onto the white floor as she started towards him, but then stopped short. There wasn’t one but two Spikes waiting for her behind the blanket.

They swam around her like sprites as she stood on the blanket and watched, transfixed by them – seemingly identical in every way. Then they began darting in closer, touching her, raking their ghostly fingers over her back, her legs, her stomach, her breasts. She moaned and raised her arms up, opening herself to them. Yes, touch me. And they did. Lips and hands, magical fingers and gentle palms touched her seemingly everywhere at once and she exploded in the ecstasy of it. 

Her body arched and shuddered as the two Spikes made love to her skin: kissing, licking, biting, nibbling, pinching, caressing, pulling, stroking. Their mouths and lips were soft and sweet as they both roamed over her, inch by glorious inch, their teeth hard and unforgiving as they nibbled and bit at her soft flesh. Their hands at times gentle and loving, at other times rough and brutal – it all combined into a beautiful symphony of rapture.

Buffy was flying. Flying in a sea of passion and yearning and these two kept her soaring higher and higher as they built her hunger and desire for them past anything she’d felt before.

“Take me!” she screamed at them finally, unable to wait another second for the feel of Spike’s hard manhood pressing into her.

“Take us both, kitten,” Spike murmured into her ear. “I want to feel him inside you, pumping you, ravishing you. Want to see the pleasure of him on your face… I want his cum filling you.”

And Buffy wanted nothing less. “Yes,” she accepted eagerly, breathlessly before capturing his lips with hers. She stroked his cock roughly with her hand and it hardened even more under her touch.

The Spike that had spoken pulled her down onto the blanket at their feet with him, which didn’t so much seem to be on a hard floor as floating in the water, which still surrounded them.  With practiced ease, Buffy mounted him and guided Spike’s rock-hard erection into her yearning pussy. She gasped in pleasure as he entered her, his manhood stretching her and filling her with utter bliss.

She moaned deeply as he circled her nipples delicately with his fingers, sending chill bumps racing over her skin. Then silent-Spike was behind her, pressing her body forward, lowering himself down to their level. Buffy shuddered in anticipation as he slid his cock down her crack, pausing at her puckered hole before gently pushing in.

“Oh God…” was the only thought that formed in her mind or crossed her lips as she felt them both begin to move inside her.  She locked her eyes with the Spike that was below her, she could see the ecstasy he was feeling reflected in his face. Passion and desire sparkled in his blue eyes as he looked up into hers and seeing that lifted her own pleasure even higher.

The Spike behind her gathered a handful of her flowing hair into one hand and pulled her head back, forcing her back to arch and lifting her ass up higher to him. The Spike below her dug his fingers painfully into her hips and pulled her back down to his level. For a moment the two fought for control – one pulling her up, the other pulling her down even as they both pumped their cocks into her.  Buffy cried out from the pain and pleasure they were inflicting on her body, a dizzying combination that sent her senses reeling. She at once wanted it to stop and wanted it to continue – how high could they take her with it?

After few moments the two men seemed to find peace with each other and the painful tugging and fighting over her body eased. She was at once disappointed and relieved.

Buffy looked back down at the Spike below her. He was watching her with an adoration she’d seen in his eyes many times, but this time there was something more – she couldn’t put her finger on it – it was almost a look of worship, if she had to put a word to it.

“Can you feel him?” she asked softly, hoping he could feel a small amount of what she could. It was beyond anything she’d ever felt before.

The Spike beneath her smiled, a look of wonderment spreading over his features as he bit down on his bottom lip with his teeth and nodded. “Yeah, kitten … bloody brilliant, it is. Feel him movin’ in ya … God, Buffy … fucking amazin’.”

And Buffy agreed … amazing…

They had done this before with a vibrator taking the place of one of the Spikes, of course, but this … this was completely different. The feeling of not just their cocks inside her, but their hard bodies rubbing against her took it to a whole other level. The feel of their flesh against hers, their moans, how they both now called her name … it was astonishing, incredible … absolutely breathtaking. Buffy could feel the waves of euphoria building inside her, lifting her up again. She began soaring higher and higher as they both pumped into her harder and faster. 

The two Spikes made love to her even as they made love to each other within her. Each could feel the other when they moved, each strived to pleasure the other as much as they were pleasuring Buffy. It was a surreal feeling, as if they were making love to two people at once.

Buffy rode the waves of rapture they were creating in her, letting them set the pace, simply surrendering to her two lovers and getting lost in the sound of their cries, their pleasured moans, and murmured endearments.  On some level, she knew this was a dream … nothing more than that. She knew if Freud were here, he’d say it was her subconscious dealing with the three hours and thirteen minutes of male bonding she’d been subjected to. But another part of her, the primal woman inside, was more than happy to give into it, go with it … let it engulf her. After three hours and thirteen minutes of torture, she deserved this gift. She chose to be engulfed.

As her lovers’ tempos rose, so did their cries. The murmured endearments became streaming exclamations to her, to God … to the devil himself. The control they’d been maintaining faltered and they drove into her with unrestrained passion, brutality, and wanton desire.  Buffy could hear and feel and see their demons rising up as the pleasure became overwhelming and she let them take her with them – flying through the blazing fires of hell before rising to the billowing sumptuousness of heaven.

The Spike behind her was pulling on her hair again, holding her with it as you’d hold the mane of a wild horse at a gallop, and she tilted her head back to ease the pressure on her scalp. Then the lover below was pulling, twisting, and groping her breasts and nipples roughly, his fingers digging into her supple flesh, and bolts of pleasurable pain shot through her as they carried her closer and closer to nirvana.

“More! Harder!” she demanded of them – she wanted everything they could give her. Every ounce of passion, every drop of desire, every pleasure, every pain they could inflict, she wanted in that moment. She dug her nails into Spike’s shoulders, drawing blood. He responded by slamming into her harder, driving his cock deeper, his pubic bone jarring her clit violently with every fevered thrust.

Buffy felt like they were spinning and spiraling out of control – turning and twisting, burning and freezing, flying then sailing and she couldn’t contain it one more second. Her body tensed between them, her pussy walls tightening painfully around one lover, her ass clenching around the other, as her orgasm exploded and crashed through her body like a runaway train. It was a violent and powerful collision as the pain and the pleasure ran headlong into each other, crushing all sense of time and space and sending her hurtling skyward. Her head snapped back further as her back arched and her soul-piercing scream sent large ripples out through the clear water that surrounded them, washing over her lovers like liquid fire.

Both Spikes roared loud and long as their cum shot into her, their cocks throbbed and pulsed, separated only by the thin veil of their lover’s flesh between them.  It seemed impossible that they could actually feel the other’s cum surging into her, filling her, but they could, somehow they could, and it lifted both men even higher than they’d ever been before.

Buffy’s body milked them as she shuddered and quivered around them, over them, under them … surrounding them with her feral passion and darkest, most savage desires. Never before had they known such a woman; she was at once an animal, a visceral, dark creature of the night, and a goddess, a golden nymph, bathed in shimmering sunlight. She was everything to them … their one true love, their one true match in all the world – in all the universe.

Buffy slumped down onto the Spike below her, spent, satiated … dizzy from the heights and power of her orgasm. He wrapped his arms around her as the three of them turned gently over to the side and began floating lazily in the clear water. The lovers were still intertwined, their cocks still buried deep inside her, limbs meshing, tangling around each other. Their spendings dripped from her, covering them both with the juices of the other as well as her own slick honey.  Buffy sighed and closed her eyes as strong arms literally engulfed her from all sides, as hard bodies surrounded her in a protective shroud. Safe. Peaceful. Floating secure in the embrace of her lovers. Home.

**~**