Title: Well of Realms Author: Nightmelody email: nightmelody@hotmail.com Season: post Chosen Summary: Yet another human-Spike- post Chosen fic. Pairing: S/B Rating: R Disclaimer: The Buffyverse belongs to Joss Whedon Chapter Nine: Found There's got to be a way to take a weapon with me when I enter the well, Spike thought, as he unpacked boxes of merchandise in the store. Kate was thinking about some type of binding spell, but they hadn't researched that enough yet. Kate had taken Emma to a clinic in Belleville, the next larger town north of Shepard's Creek, using his false information and bank account as Dave's ' wife'. Spike was watching the store and taking care of Marie while they were gone. Marie, thank god, was asleep, giving him a moments peace. The kid sure had energy. And she hadn't liked being left behind by Mom. He chuckled, remembering her mulish expression and determination to make him pay for her displeasure. She reminded him of Dawn. What were they going to do when the twins arrived? He had a feeling he'd be spending a lot of time chasing currents in the pool. If only there was a way to wear a weapon, so he could arrive in these unknown dimensions with a little insurance. They were not all as pleasant as his Mother's drawing room. His second dive had taken him to a jungle world He had tried tucking a hunting knife into his swim trunks, but it had not been there when he'd landed. A machete would have been nice, for the undergrowth, and the snakes. He'd not seen any hostile natives--a good thing since he was armed with a stick-- and had spent several tedious hours ripping vines from the entrance of a stone ruin. Even a pocket knife would have helped there. The inside of the ruin smelled of mold and damp, and bat droppings. A flash light would have come in handy, but his eye sight seemed to be nearly as good in the dark as it had been when he was a vampire. He had found the shrine, and a large strip of the document. He half expected an Indiana Jones type of experience as he walked out of the ancient temple, but nothing had occurred, except the sudden smack of water. And, while he had spent hours clearing vines to get into the temple, Emma had timed him at thirty minutes. Time differed in the well. His third dive had been a little, well, creepy. And a bust, as far as the parchment was concerned. This world was dark and foggy. Demons roamed around, headed where, he couldn't tell. They were large and heavily muscled, with a vaguely human shape. Huge jaws and boar like fangs. He hid in strange bushes, trying to find a building, or a cavern, or some place where a scrap of parchment would be kept. He'd been all right, until the wind arose. They were hunters, he could tell. A group of four, a hundred yards away, had turned into his scent, like a pack of wolves. They approached, deadly and confident, spreading out to block off an escape attempt. "Bloody hell." Not even a rock was lying in the damp soil. They rushed him on some unknown signal, and he fought. They were strong, tough sinew and muscle. He felt the piecing of his skin from a tusk....not going well here... "A swim would be nice!" he had shouted, hoping there was some way of summoning the pool, like in times of near death. Then there was the rush of water, carrying him to the pool, safe. He'd have to go back to that dimension. Definitely needed a weapon. But it was good to know the pool could be summoned. Then there were the brick wall worlds. Twice the current had rushed him straight into a wall. A world he couldn't enter. Kate thought it might be some type of ward, some type of magic. After two bone crushing wall experiences, he had decided to take a break, explore ways to carry weapons. And to let his bruises heal. He yawned as he checked over the invoices. He hadn't slept well in days, not since he had returned with the scrap of parchment. Long, complicated, sensual dreams woke him at night, and afterward he would be totally unable to go back to sleep. Thoughts of Buffy, naked in his arms, under him, were fueled by the dreams at night, and had taken on a nearly obsessive quality during the day... Maybe he should try to find her. Maybe she really did love him, and missed him...but then he would remember the uglier aspects of their relationship...And then there was Angel. She was probably with him, now, in LA. Emma thought he should contact her. He had told her a censored version of their past. "Real love doesn't happen that often," she said in her soft voice. "I've never really seen it. Not in my parents, or Ben's parents. And especially not in my marriage. But it seems to me that you had something real. Something that made you both better and stronger." He'd have to contact Angel, eventually, when he had more pieces of the prophecy. They weren't something he could translate. But he wasn't ready. Not yet. Couldn't see her with Angel, yet. Still, the little voice in his head whispered--you claimed her. That last night. She's yours, you are hers. Angel has no right to her. And he knows it. Stop thinking about her, he scolded himself. God, am I insane? That claim was made under emotional circumstances. We both thought we could die. And the claim was made by the demon, who no longer exists. But she claimed you back, all of you, the voice insisted. "Ar," Spike groaned at himself. "Tonight I get drunk." He shoved the invoices into the file drawer and slammed it shut. The bell above the door tinkled. Good! A customer! Blinding white hair was the first thing he saw, then a long black leather duster over black jeans and T shirt. Shiny black boots... Spike's eyes flew to the face of the Spike wannabe. Andrew stood in the door way, mouth working like a fish out of water.