Under the Sun

Author: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-13

Archive: Sure, if you already have my stuff. If not, just ask.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters herein; Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other lucky folks do. Of course, I'm not the one making money off of them.

Summary: Set after Avocation in an alternate S4 where many events of canon get thrown out the window. This one won't make any sense if you haven't read the previous story.

A/N: The title comes from Ecclesiastes, which most people know from the phrase, "A time for everything, and a season for everything under heaven." Really, this story is based on the entire book, which is probably my favorite in the Bible. It talks about making the most of what one has now, and while some find it depressing, I love it. If you've got the time, I'd really recommend you read the whole thing.

Chapter 17

"Shall we, too, rise forgetful from our sleep,/And shall my soul that lies within your hand/Remember nothing, as the blowing sand/Forgets the palm where long blue shadows creep/When winds along the darkened desert sweep?/Or would it still remember, tho' it spanned/A thousand heavens, while the planets fanned/The vacant ether with their voices deep?/Soul of my soul, no word shall be forgot,/Nor yet alone, beloved, shall we see/The desolation of extinguished suns,/Nor fear the void wherethro' our planet runs,/For still together shall we go and not,/Fare forth alone to front eternity." ~Sara Teasdale, "Love and Death"

Willow clung to Wesley, feeling just a little strange. She'd never been this close to any guy before except for Oz, and riding on the back of Wesley's motorcycle, pressed up against him, felt—intimate. She felt the thrum of the motorcycle's engine, the hard muscles of his back.

It was a really good thing that she'd worn pants, rather than a skirt.

The trip took only a few minutes on the bike, and Wesley pulled up in front of Dean Guerrero's house smoothly. "Do you want me to come with you?" he asked.

Willow tugged off the helmet he'd let her wear. He hadn't brought the second helmet with him, so he'd gone bareheaded. She appreciated the gesture, although she didn't really like wearing it. "Probably not," she replied. "It's going to be hard enough to convince him that there are bad guys bent on cutting off his ear."

"You don't think I'd be convincing?" Wesley asked, the hurt in his tone belied by the humor in his eyes.

Willow just raised an eyebrow. "Not when you look like Spike's second cousin."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Wesley, you're riding a motorcycle and wearing a leather jacket," Willow pointed out patiently. "You look like a..." She trailed off, trying to find the right word.

"Punk?" he suggested.

"Something like that," she replied. "I'll be right back."

Willow wasn't really expecting to have a lot of success with the dean. After all, it was a lot to swallow—that vengeful Chumash spirits had killed Professor Gerhardt, a priest, and might be planning on killing him, too. It was really too bad that she hadn't thought of having Wesley pose as a police detective until now. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Dean Guerrero opened the door, frowning. "Can I help you?"

Willow smiled brightly. "Hi! I'm Willow Rosenberg. I'm a student at UC Sunnydale, and I just thought you should be aware that you might be in danger."

~~~~~

"Maybe we should go downstairs," Xander suggested, trying to rise from the guest bed.

Anya shook her head firmly, pushing him back down. "I don't think so. You're just going to fall over again. The smallpox is probably going to start showing up any minute now."

"As long as we've got some time before I go blind and crazy from the syphilis," Xander joked weakly. "Unless they break in and kill us first."

"I thought Buffy and Spike were supposed to stop them," Anya said, an edge of worry creeping into her tone. There was a crash from downstairs, and they both winced in unison. "Why aren't they stopping them?"

"I'm sure they're working on it, Anya," Xander replied, pushing himself up off the bed. He couldn't hide upstairs any longer, not when Buffy might need him. Besides, he hated not knowing what was going on. "I'm just going to make sure everything is okay. You can stay up here if you want."

"By myself?" she asked incredulously. "When they could come through the windows?"

As one, they turned to look out the window. Sure enough, there was a Chumash warrior squatting on the roof, trying to open the window. "Why did you have to say that?" Xander demanded, looking around wildly for a weapon.

"I didn't mean to!" Anya shot back, dashing out of the room.

Xander dropped to the floor as the warrior sent an arrow through the now-open window. "Anya! Where are you going?"

"I'm trying to find something to hit it with!" she shouted back. Anya came running back into the room a moment later, waving a sword around.

"Where did you find that?" Xander asked, grabbing it from her hand before she could accidentally take his head off.

She gestured behind her. "In Mrs. Summers' room. I think it belongs to Giles. Use it to make him go away!"

Xander turned back to the window, where the very solid spirit was now climbing in. He gripped the sword, desperately hoping that he could actually manage to do some damage before the other man killed him.

Or Anya. Xander set his jaw. There was no way he was going to let Anya get hurt.

~~~~~

"Oh, bloody hell," Spike muttered, grabbing the carving knife from the counter. It was the weapon that was closest to hand, although he'd have preferred something with a little more reach. "Buffy!"

"I've got my hands full in here!" she yelled back. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Just peachy!" Spike hollered back, ducking the knife that the warrior was using, bringing up his own weapon to slice across the inside of his opponent's elbow. He was expecting the spirit to drop the knife, thinking that if he could be cut, he could certainly be hurt. Instead, the warrior merely switched hands and came after him again, the deep laceration healing as Spike watched.

"Oh, balls." Spike backpedaled rapidly, trying to figure out what to do. What did you do with an invulnerable opponent?

It looked like there had only been one of them at the kitchen door, and the Chumash followed him through the kitchen and into the hall. "Spike?"

"I can't hurt him," Spike snarled as he met Giles in the hallway, turning to defend himself from the warrior.

Buffy was fighting with her own opponent in the living room. "Well, we need to figure something out quick, or we're going to be in big trouble."

A pounding came at the front door. "Spike!"

Giles dove for the door to let Wesley and Willow in. "Did you have any success?" he asked as he helped Wesley slam the door shut on another three Chumash.

"I think the dean thought I was crazy," Willow replied, leaning up against the door.

Spike snapped the neck of his attacker, hoping that it would at least keep him down for a few minutes, then he turned to give Buffy a hand. There was a yelp from the dining room, and Joyce came stumbling into the hall, a poker in her hand. "I don't think I did much damage," she said apologetically.

"I'm sure you did just fine," Spike replied, grabbing the poker from her hand and hitting one of the warriors attacking Buffy across the back. The blow provided enough of a distraction for Buffy to disarm him and cut the warrior across the arm with his own knife.

The cut didn't heal right away this time, and Buffy's eyes widened. "Your own weapons can kill you." She looked over at Spike. "Spike—"

Spike jumped back as the Chumash warrior morphed into a bear. "You made a bear!"

"I didn't mean to!" Buffy protested, backing off as the bear swiped at her with its paw.

"Spike!"

He turned to see Wesley and Giles trying to protect Joyce and Willow from another three warriors, and Spike knew that if they didn't end this quickly, someone was going to get hurt. With a hoarse shout, he tossed the poker to Wesley, who caught it and began swinging it around to keep the Chumash warriors at bay. Rolling his shoulders, Spike leaped onto the bear's back, hanging on tightly as it snarled and tried to dislodge him. "Now, Buffy!"

She buried the Chumash knife to the hilt in the bear's chest. Dissolving into green mist, Hus and the other spirits disappeared, depositing Spike on the floor with a hard thump. "Are you okay?" Buffy asked, hurrying over to help him up.

"Think so," he replied, pushing himself off the floor and ignoring her hand. "You lot alright?"

"We're all in one piece," Wesley replied, looking at the poker in his hand as though he didn't know quite what to do with it.

Joyce took it from him, looking around her house in dismay. "This is going to take awhile to clean up."

"We can do it later," Giles suggested. "Perhaps now we ought to just eat dinner." He glanced around. "I'm sure it won't take too long with all of us working on it."

Buffy winced. "I'm sorry, Mom. I had no idea they'd attack me here."

Wesley raised his eyebrows. "It makes sense," he said. "They would attack the strongest warrior on the enemy side. That would be you, Buffy."

She glared at him. "You didn't think of this earlier?"

"No one asked me," Wesley replied defensively. "I didn't realize why they would have gone after the professor and the priest until we were on our way back here."

"It's fine, Wesley," Joyce said, patting his arm. "It wasn't your fault. Why don't you and Willow get the table set again?"

"I'll go check on Xander and Anya," Buffy said, although her errand was made unnecessary when the couple appeared on the stairs.

"You know, I'm feeling a lot better," Xander announced. "Good work, Buff."

Buffy surveyed the damage, and glanced over at Spike, who had obviously distanced himself from her and the others again. "Yeah, great work."

It looked as though it was going to be a fun Thanksgiving.

~~~~~

She kept her promise. Buffy spent the rest of her Thanksgiving break underground, helping Spike and Wesley dig for the gem. Even with her supernatural strength, the work was difficult at best, and Buffy was bone-tired by Sunday night. They were closer to the spot that Wesley swore held the gem, but it was going to take at least another day to reach it.

Buffy had convinced Wesley to leave for the day, and she sat down on the floor wearily, wondering if she would be able to get Spike to come back to his place with her. He had insisted on working day and night since early Friday morning. If they'd had more people, it would have gone faster, but they didn't. It was too bad that Willow couldn't magic the work done, but she wasn't capable of that yet.

"You quitting for the day?" Spike asked, sitting down beside her.

She nodded. "I've got to go back to class tomorrow."

"Maybe you should stay at the dorms tonight, then," Spike suggested. "I'll stay here."

Buffy sighed. "Spike, you need to sleep." She knew she sounded like a broken record, but Buffy couldn't help it. She worried about him. She worried that even when he did find the gem, it wouldn't be enough. He'd find some new obsession to distract him from what the soldiers had done to him, how they had made him feel.

Buffy worried that she was losing him, even when he was close enough to touch.

"I'll be fine."

She closed her eyes, and then she stood. "Fine. I guess I'll stay at the dorm tonight. I'll see you later." Buffy grabbed her things and headed for the exit, suddenly unable to bear his presence. She couldn't bear his shutting her out one moment more.

A hand grabbed her arm, halting her progress. "Buffy, luv..."

Buffy turned to face him. He wore a pained expression. "What, Spike?"

He pulled her close, his arms holding her tightly. "I'm sorry. It's just that I have to do this. I have to."

"You think I don't get that?" Buffy demanded, pulling back from him. "I just don't know what to do for you, Spike! You keep pushing me away. You don't want my help, you don't seem to want my company. I'm trying, but—"

"You're doing fine," Spike replied, his voice breaking. "It's—I'd forgotten what it was to be a monster."

Buffy frowned. "You're not a monster, Spike."

"Yes, I am," he replied. "I'm a vampire. No matter what I do, what I accomplish, who I'm with, that's always going to be true."

"So what?" Buffy glared at him. "I don't care! I don't care what you are because you're so much more than that."

"Those soldiers—"

"Those bastards don't know you the way I know you," Buffy shot back. "Is that what's been freaking you out?"

His face had gone blank, and Buffy could see that he was withdrawing again. She'd blown her chance. "Part of it. It's not a big deal."

"No," Buffy said, her voice low and fierce. "No, you are not doing this again. You're not shutting me out. I told you that I would fight every single one of those stupid soldiers for you, and I meant it. I am not walking away from you until you tell me why you keep pushing me away."

"You don't understand!" Spike cried out. "You don't bloody get it, Buffy! You never have."

"What haven't I gotten?"

He shook his head, obviously unwilling to explain.

Buffy dropped her pack, pushing him backwards. "I'm not leaving until we get this straightened out."

"Buffy—" Spike took a step back. "You've got school."

"I don't care," Buffy said stubbornly. "I'm not leaving you."

Spike turned away from her. "Look, I need some time. If you're not willing to give me that—"

"You don't need time, you need your ass kicked." Buffy touched his shoulder, running her hand down his arm, her gentle touch belying her words. "If I leave you alone, what's to say that you won't decide you don't need me?"

He moved away from her. "I need you."

"That's funny, because it sure doesn't feel that way."

"I can't do this right now, Buffy." Spike's shoulders were slumped, and Buffy thought that he stood as though he bore the weight of the world.

"Look at me," she commanded gently. When he kept his back to her, Buffy turned him around, putting her hand on his cheek to turn his head so she could meet his eyes. "What is it, Spike? Do you really not want me around right now?"

"It's stupid," Spike stated. "I know I'm not good company, but I'll be fine. I just need some time."

"Time and maybe some TLC," Buffy suggested, her hands going to the hem of his t-shirt. They hadn't really made love since the soldiers had captured him. At first, Buffy had been worried about causing him further harm, but then Spike had begun his search for the Gem of Amara, and there hadn't been the opportunity. Buffy had hoped that by pulling him out for a couple of days over her Thanksgiving break, it would give them the chance to spend some quality time together. Instead, Spike had collapsed, exhausted, begging off any sort of physical activity.

She thought that maybe now, maybe if she could just touch him, show him that she still loved him, no matter what had happened. Maybe she could make him feel it.

"Now's not the time," he said, pushing her hand away.

Buffy stared at him, feeling unbelievably hurt. "Spike?"

He looked stung by her tone. "Buffy, we're both tired, and you've got classes in the morning."

She stared at him, and then her eyes narrowed. She wasn't above using a little emotional blackmail in a situation like this. "You don't want me?" she asked, knowing that it sounded as though she was about to cry.

It wasn't a complete act. Buffy was ready to cry—out of frustration, if nothing else.

"Of course I want you," Spike was quick to assure her. "Just don't think that now's the right time is all. Maybe after—"

"After you find the gem?" Buffy asked. "And then what excuse are you going to use?" She pulled herself up. "If you didn't want me anymore, all you had to do was to say so."

"That's not it!" Spike said, sounding angry. "I told you."

"Then show me," she challenged. When he visibly hesitated, the look in his eyes turning to something akin to shame, Buffy thought she finally caught a glimpse of what it was that had been bothering him so badly. "Oh, Spike."

She moved forward, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. "Buffy..."

"I don't care."

"Luv, it's not—it's still bad. Give it more time, and it'll fade, but..."

Buffy wasn't listening to him. Or she was, but she wasn't going to let him get away with hiding any longer. "I love you, you stupid vampire. I love the demon, and I love the man. You'd be doing the same for me. Now let me show you."

He finally dropped his hands, not fighting her anymore. Buffy pulled the shirt over his head, looking at the red scar on his chest. Spike had removed the stitches himself, but the Y-incision was still angry-looking against his pale skin, a constant reminder of what they had done. Of how they saw him. In their eyes, Spike was nothing more than another monster to be exterminated.

Maybe if he'd never known Buffy, it wouldn't have mattered so much. It had been the Slayer who had taught him what it meant to feel like a man again, what it meant to feel, period. In a way, Spike had forgotten that he wasn't a man, or had deluded himself into thinking that it didn't really matter.

It mattered now, all too much.

He closed his eyes as Buffy pressed her lips to his collarbone, working her way down his chest, kissing every inch of that thick red line. As though she could erase it with her love. "Buffy—"

"You might be a monster, Spike," Buffy said softly, in between kisses. "But you've made yourself so much more than that. You think I don't understand? You think I haven't seen the scars?" She put her hands on his bare shoulders, her fingers tracing the scar tissue on his back. He never had told her what had caused them.

Spike shuddered under her tender onslaught. "Thought maybe you didn't see me."

"I see you." Buffy kissed him, her hands holding him to her gently, but with a strength he couldn't hope to fight. "You saw me first."

"Couldn't do without you," he said, and when he looked at her, Buffy could see that he was completely open to her gaze.

She'd have to remember not to take no for an answer in the future.

"Ditto." Buffy ran her hands down his cool chest, feeling the raised line, reading his pain as if it had been written in Braille and she was blind. Maybe she had been up until now. "They can't change who you are."

Spike buried his hands in her hair, his lips trailing down her neck, feeling the heat flush her skin as he blazed a trail. Buffy stepped back from him, pulling her filthy shirt over her head, baring gold-tinged skin and cream colored lace. She began to undress, watching as he did the same. They were both dirt-streaked and tired, bruised and battered from long days of digging and hauling rock.

They had both been marked.

Their love-making was gentle, a renewal of a bond that had been forged in pain and shared experiences, in trust and love. Their limbs tangled on the sleeping bag Spike had been using—that Buffy had insisted he use. He really hadn't been sleeping much.

In the end, he slept in her arms, and Buffy planned to never let him go.

~~~~~

The bell over the door jangled cheerfully, and Giles straightened, ready to greet his first customer of the day. "I brought lunch," Joyce said.

He sighed. "Thank you."

She looked around the shop. "It's pretty dead today, huh?"

Giles shrugged. "You're the first person I've seen."

Joyce set the paper sack on his counter. "I imagine that will change. The Christmas season always brings more shoppers out."

He nodded. "I've noticed that it tends to ebb and flow, but rarely at the same time."

The bell rang again, and a young man entered, looking a little harried. "Hi, I'm supposed to read a book for my English class, and the university bookstore is out of copies."

"When did you need to have it read by?" Giles inquired, coming out from behind the counter.

The teenager looked sheepish. "Tomorrow. Do you have A Tale of Two Cities?"

"Of course," Giles replied. "It's just over here." He showed the boy where he could find the novels by Dickens, then rejoined Joyce. "I've been getting a few university students, as well as mothers with their children. I probably ought to see about getting more children's books."

"Did you have those business cards made up?" Joyce asked. "If you did, I'll put a pile of them on the counter at the gallery."

The boy came up to the counter with several books. "You have a great classics section."

"Thank you," Giles replied, smiling at the compliment. "If you're interested in rare volumes, I can also help you with your needs in that area."

"I wish," the boy replied. "I'll be back, though. Thanks!" He zipped out the door, and Giles frowned thoughtfully. "You know, I hadn't thought about advertising on campus, but I really should."

Joyce smiled. "If you can pry Buffy away from Spike's side, you might be able to convince her to put fliers up."

"I think I'll ask Willow if she wouldn't mind helping out," Giles replied. "Buffy has her hands full right now."

"Have you spoken to Spike recently?" Joyce asked. "The last time I saw him, he seemed very subdued. I'm concerned about him."

"I think this thing with the soldiers has affected him deeply," Giles replied. "I can't say that I understand all that's going on in his head, but Wesley thought it might have something to do with Angelus."

Joyce sighed. "Well, I imagine we'll just have to keep an eye on him." She gave him an inquisitive look. "You are staying here for Christmas this year, aren't you?"

"I had planned on it," Giles responded. "Had you made plans?"

"I just wanted to make sure any plans would include you."

Giles raised an eyebrow. "I had no intentions of going anywhere."

"Good." Joyce gave him a very satisfied look. "I have plans for us."

Giles was going to ask her what her plans included, but the bell over the door rang again, bringing in an older man, closely followed by two mothers with their children in tow.

He never did get to finish his lunch.