Pairing: S/B

Rating by chapter: Chapter ~ 28

Genre: Post NFA ~ General

Warning by chapter: Chapter ~ 28

Many thanks to beta: myfeetshowit

Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. Original characters are mine.

Binnemon sat on his cot, head in hand, listening for the others to settle. He was so filled with rage, he knew if he moved he would smash something and alert the others. Their bellies were full and they would sleep. If they knew what happened, and what it meant, they would turn on him. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he paced as he tried to think. Think it through, he told himself. Stupid, worthless lout! A low growl escaped his throat as he tore at his own skin in frenzied rage. Abruptly, Binnemon crashed out of his quarters and tore through the great door into the night slamming the sentry against the wall. The minion's head and bones were crushed with the force of the blow. Mortally wounded, but undead, the minion could only lie behind the door unable to alert the others of their Master's actions.

In light of the current circumstances and understanding how difficult things were for Mr.

Giles, Adele started coming to work early. She thought about the argument she had with her husband the night before. He reminded her that just a short while ago she was ready to quit because of her boss and now she was going to work early to make his life easier. He accused her of having an affair. "An affair! Really!"

On her way to work, Adele had stopped at every store that sold newspapers and bought every copy she could. She knew it wouldn't make a difference. People would still follow the news on the telly, but at least she was fairly certain none would turn up in the break room. It galled her to know that people thought her boss had something to do with this horrible murder. She felt she just had to do something. Now, she worked up a sweat as she took the papers from her car and stuffed them into trash bags to haul to the dumpster. Adele glanced around hoping no one saw her. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and stopped long enough to catch her breath.

Renewed, she stormed into the office to get things ready for the onslaught of calls that would no doubt interfere with the usual business of the day as it had the day before. Protecting Mr. Giles from ridiculous calls from parents and thrill seekers was exhausting.

First things first, she thought. She had to get the list out to the classrooms for the schedule of interviews. The police were still meeting with the staff and students, some more than once. That set the rumor mill humming. Mr. Giles made announcements each morning and afternoon requesting that speculation about the event be kept to a minimum. He understood everyone's curiosity and concern, but theories unsupported by facts only went to creating unfounded fears. He begged the cooperation of all. No sooner did he finish speaking than the murmurs began.

Giles poured hot water over his tea and left it to steep. He stepped outside to start his car. It tended to be temperamental on cool mornings. Reaching into the bushes for his morning paper, the headline caught his eye. MURDER, BLOODY MURDER!

" Bloody" was in red. The papers were taking full advantage of the increase in sales that comes with sensational crime; they kept the headlines sensational even though after the second day there was nothing new to report. Yesterday the headline read TEEN SUICIDE AT EXCLUSIVE GIRLS SCHOOL. By evening, they were printing special editions with SLASHER AT LARGE warning the public. Not one story was completely accurate.

One truth was undeniable. Unretouched photography. There, under today's headline was a photo of the crime scene...in full color. Even without the body, it was ghastly. The crime scene tape and crushed shrubs covered in blood told the story.

The car was warm as he climbed in and pulled out of the driveway. He wondered if there were ever a time when the fourth estate actually printed the truth.

The news that Chastity was an orphan brought thousands of flowers and cards to the hedge that lined the school property leaving it littered in sympathy for the poor child with no one to mourn her. It was heart wrenching. He drove round to see if the memorial had grown. With the damp, cold weather in England's late fall, the flowers and ribbons wilted and the ink ran on the cards and posters underlining the horror of violent death.

Giles heard himself sigh as he joined the procession of cars that slowed as they drove past the school. He clicked the indicator to make his turn into the Academy, took a deep breath, and prepared to face yet another extraordinary day.

In a world of bad, quick healing is one good thing about having a demon share your skin. There's some other stuff, thought Buffy. Speed, strength and no worries about funky eye wear. Never thought the super healing would have to be moved over to the debit column, even temporarily. She so needed this episode to be over. Four days felt like four months. Her vampire was not himself...or worse, maybe he was exactly himself and she really was the poster child for the world's worst relationships. Stop it, Buffy, she told herself. You'll get through this... We'll get through this, she thought as she opened the door for Leah Graham.

She came each day to remove some of the packing and bring the drugs that kept Buffy from killing Spike. Despite his cruel tongue, Buffy stood by him, held his hand, and cried with him. The pain must have been excruciating. Even with the slower healing, Spike's tissue grew around the packing. That meant that every time Dr. Graham pulled some of the nasty stuff out she pulled out new pieces of him. Once, Spike demanded that he be allowed to inspect what she'd taken out. He feared she pulled out one of his balls.

Buffy pulled on a pair of jeans. She wore layers on top. The nights were getting chilly. Giles switched her classes to early evening so she could teach and then patrol. She didn't like leaving Spike alone and was calling to make arrangements for someone to keep an eye on him when he overheard her.

He hollered, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Buffy, in innocence and not seeing things from his point of view answered honestly, "I'm trying to get someone to come to stay with you."

"Right. You're finding me a babysitter," he said, still yelling.

She smiled, still clueless. "No....not a babysitter, but someone to help you. I don't like the idea of leaving you alone."

Spike's tone was sarcastic, "...because I'm a helpless cripple."

"Stop it, Spike. You know I don't think that. It's because I love you that I want to make sure you're OK." The hairs on Buffy's neck were starting to get itchy.

"Look, just put the bloody phone down and get on about your business and leave me here to mine," and then, sotto voce, "I could do with a little peace and quiet."

"What was that?" Buffy didn't have super hearing, but she knew he'd crossed a line.

Feigning naivete, Spike looked over his shoulder at her and said, "What, luv?"

In her standard preparatory stance for battle, she answered, "OK, Nancy, what's the problem here?"

If Spike were capable of turning red he would have, instead his features slid in and out of game face. Just as he was about to speak, the phone rang.

Buffy grabbed the phone with such force she nearly pulled it from the wall. She calmed herself and said, "Buffy here."

Spike listened for some clue of who had called as Buffy nodded, smiled and answered several times in the affirmative, then said goodbye and hung up. He knew he didn't dare ask who called. If she wanted him to know, she'd tell him. He may be headstrong, but he wasn't completely dim.

Buffy smiled...that awful, smarmy, "Gotcha" smile and said, "That was MacGregor. He's been hoping to visit you and Giles told him that since you were going to be alone tonight, it might be the perfect time. He'll be here shortly." She made her way to the kitchen continuing, "I'll just put on a pot of tea and lay out some cookies for you and your little friend."

"No," Spike roared. "Call him right back and tell him that I am not receiving this evening."

"I will do no such thing. Now get yourself cleaned up. Have you seen yourself? You're a mess."

"Really?...and no, I haven't seen myself in well over a century." Spike said, incredulous. "I've got an injury here, you know. Have somebody pull your balls out twice a day and see if you feel like sprucing up. I can't take a bath, you know that...the last one I took resulted in me gettin' my parts all infected."

Buffy was furious. "Oh, that was a low blow...and I don't have balls. But I do have some common decency about cleanliness. I thought you did too. Did you ever hear of sponge bathing?"

"No balls? Brass ones, more like...and yes, I know about sponge bathing!" Spike realized how pathetic he sounded. Big Bad reduced to verbal snarks...christ, he hated this. "Dru and I used to do it all the time...for fun." There, that ought to get her. "Maybe someone should have offered to help me, that is if someone cared that much."

Buffy gasped. "Ah, I get it. This is a pity party and you're the guest of honor. Well here's a news flash for you, mister. You have been an insufferable..." she searched for a word, "idiot. People have knocked themselves out trying to be good to you and you have been a mean, nasty, selfish brute and yes, I speak for all of us, we are tired of it.

She took a breath and went on, "Now, that man... vampire ...whatever he is, is coming to visit with you... because ..." it was getting harder to talk because of the lump in her throat, "...he thinks you're someone special." Buffy started to tear up. She didn't mind the crying so much, but she hated that she was losing control. She sobbed, "...and so do I. Now please freshen up while I set out the tea." She left the room.

Spike was stunned and felt thoroughly chastised and foolish. He wanted to say something...but everything he wanted to say seemed self-serving. He gathered himself up, limped to the bedroom to collect a fresh tee shirt and a pair of Buffy's sweatpants, and made his way to the bathroom. When he returned to the parlor he was clean-shaven and scrubbed so clean, his face was pink. Buffy watched him struggle back into the room and felt her heart melt. He was so beautiful...and so penitent. No words of forgiveness were necessary. She stopped him before he sat down and placed both her hands on his now smooth, pink face and kissed him thoroughly.

"I thought maybe you'd like to settle in the big overstuffed chair instead of the sofa. Maybe you won't feel so much like an invalid." She said as she took the throw from the couch and helped Spike to the chair.

Spike cleared his throat, suddenly thick, "Thanks, pet."

Before they had a chance to say another word, there was a knock at the door. Buffy grabbed her coat saying, "That's probably your company. Perfect timing." Their eyes met and she said, "I love you," and opened the door. "Mr. MacGregor?"

"Just MacGregor will be fine," the handsome man in the doorway said.

"Please come in. I'm just on my way out." She stepped back to allow him entry, smiled and said, "Have fun you two. Save some cookies for me," and she was gone.

MacGregor was by nature a quiet, genteel man; by circumstance, a monster. They were more alike than either of them knew. Spike quickly put MacGregor at ease channeling the gentleman he once was. They spent the evening sharing stories.

MacGregor was a vampire who thought he knew all there was to know about vampires until he actually met one. Since first meeting Spike, he was hungry to know more. He saw Spike as a veritable font of knowledge...and certainly not just about being a vampire. It tickled his academic wonder to think of how the world had changed in the last one hundred and fifty years...and Spike had been there. He was awe-struck...

...which worked very well indeed for Spike. No one enjoyed talking more than Spike and when he was the subject....even better. It was definitely a win/win. First they each told of their turning. Spike explained that while Dru was his true sire, she was in no position to accept the daunting task of teaching a fledge the why and wherefore of being a vampire, so his education fell to Angelus. A hard taskmaster, to be sure...but one who taught him well, albeit with a lot of thrashings. There was so much more to say about Angelus, but now was not the time.

MacGregor's turning was a vampire's worst nightmare. Spike remembered his first waking and the total disorientation. He had trouble imagining how awful it could have been had Drucilla not been there to take his hand and guide him those first few hours. He was overcome with sympathy for the Scot, and even more amazed that he survived at all.

As they talked an idea popped into Spike's head. It seemed reasonable, but he'd have to talk it over with Buffy before he made any suggestions. Here, this MacGregor had been a vamp for forty odd years and for all intents and purposes, he was still a fledge. He could use some help.

Each being a man of letters, the conversation turned to literature and they argued amiably for hours and were surprised when Buffy was back so soon.

"Soon? It's s little before five. I've been out all night....I guess your visit has gone well then, eh?" Buffy said as she took off her coat, the cold night air billowing from it as she strolled through the room. "Excuse me, really have to wash my hands..." and she was off.

Spike began, "So then, MacGregor, my schedule is open at the moment and I'm free to entertain any evening," he said, laughing at his own joke about his current state of confinement. "If it wouldn't be an imposition, I would welcome another visit at your convenience." Buffy listened to the tone and timber of Spike's request and wondered just when William had revealed himself.

"I'd be honored," said MacGregor. "I don't want to seem too anxious, but we haven't begun to cover the areas I'd hoped to discuss with you. Would this evening be too soon?"

She came out of the bedroom wearing a comfortable sweatsuit. "Thank you for coming, MacGregor."

"Oh no! Thank you, miss. I'll be going now. Goodnight."

As the door closed behind MacGregor, Buffy glanced over to Spike who was busy stacking up some books by the chair. She beamed to see him looking so peaceful and satisfied. Sometimes when she looked at him when he was like this, she thought her heart might burst. She loved him so much. She took a deep breath to slow her heart and said, "Looky like it went well?"

"Very well," he answered.

Her face twisted into a questioning squiggle as she tilted her head, "....and?"

"And what?" he looked up, still distracted by the books, seemingly not getting what she was thinking.

She answered in a frustrated tone of a child that hadn't been understood, "Tell me about your visit," and after a moment countered with, "...and I'll tell you what I've been up to!" She smiled and went to him.

"Oh," he said in comprehension. He smiled and lay aside the book he was holding in his lap, "Well, c'mere little one and sit by me and I'll tell you all about it."

Buffy pouted. "You're laughing at me."

"No." Spike answered, "I'm enchanted by you."

She settled on the arm of the chair with her arm around his neck twisting her fingers in his curls and listened to his account of his visit with MacGregor. He told her of his idea about taking a forty-year-old fledgling under his wing. At first she thought it was a great idea for both of them but decided she'd like to give it some thought. He was pleased with her answer and said his pet was growing up. They laughed at that and she let her other hand stroke his chest and allowed it to slide down his belly to twist her fingers in his other curly hairs.

"Ah, ah, ah, pet. Little girls shouldn't be playing with broken toys. They might get hurt."

Her face was crestfallen, "Broken? 's not broken!"

He answered, "You're right, it's not broken, but it's not ready yet..."

She grinned...she certainly noticed that he'd come to attention! "Oh, it's ready."

He sighed and his tone was melancholy, "Not yet, luv."

It was his manner more than his words that convinced her that it was too early for even this kind of play and so she said, bouncing a little, to change the mood and ease his sorrow, "Wanna hear about what I did tonight?"

His smile was tender and...grateful.

They talked until well after sunrise. Buffy said she needed some sleep and went to bed expecting Spike to follow. Instead he moved to the couch and pulled an extra blanket over his shoulders.