Title:  Demon Lovers, Part 1

Author:  Miss Murchison

Rating:  "Chiaroscuro" is mostly R and PG.  However, some content may be considered NC-17.

Disclaimer:  All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc.  Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.

Thanks:  To DorothyL for the beta and for her wonderful friendship.

Notes:  This is a sequel to “Beginnings.”  It seemed like time to clarify Buffy’s relationship with Angel before moving on with my story.  I thought I could do that briefly.  (I don’t know myself very well, do I?)  After I started writing this, the most appalling things started happening on Season 3 of “Angel.”  I was so upset by what was done to Cordelia’s character, I had to do something, and this story is it.  I didn’t want to have to do this, because I can’t write Cordelia even more than I can’t write some of the other characters.  But since that’s not stopping the “Angel” writers, why should it stop me?

          Buffy stared at her cell phone in frustration.  “Where can he be?” she said.

        Tara replied in a comforting tone, “I’m sure Jonathan’s okay.  You put him in the safest position.  He probably just forgot to turn on his phone.  Did you reach everyone else?”

        “Yes.  They’re all coming to the house for breakfast and a quick Scooby meeting.  Even Spike remembered to keep his phone with him, turn it on, and answer it when it rang.  I think that was a first.”

        Tara laughed outright at that.  “He is a pretty amazing combination of competence and incompetence,” she admitted.  “But he’s made a lot of progress, Buffy.”

        “I know,” said Buffy.   They passed in and out of the halo of the streetlight in front of her house.  “But, unfortunately, we haven’t made a lot of progress tracking this demon.  You’d think that with all of us staking out the places it’s appeared the last few days, one person would have seen it tonight.”

        “Maybe Jonathan did.”

        “I’m afraid he did more than see it.  I’m afraid it saw him.”  Buffy unlocked the front door.  “At least Dawn was at Janice’s all night and she couldn’t insist on being part of this operation.  I know she’s been training, but my nerves really aren’t ready for her to handle a solitary stake-out yet.”

        Tara nodded in agreement.  “Buffy, would you mind if I used your bathroom to take a shower?   I was stuck in a pretty hot and dirty hole for most of the night.”

        “Sure, go ahead,” said Buffy.  “My things won’t fit you, but pillage what you want from Dawn’s room.  I’m sure she won’t mind.” 

        “She still has several things of mine, so I may just borrow them back.”

        Tara went up the stairs and Buffy headed toward the kitchen to start breakfast.  Before she did more than pull down a stack of coffee filters, the front door rang.  She went to answer it, muttering, “I hope that’s you, Jonathan.”

        It wasn’t Jonathan.  She stared in astonishment at the familiar figure on her doorstep.

        “May I come in?” asked Angel after a moment.  “I don’t want to impose, but the sun is coming up.”

        “Of course,” she said, stepping aside and pulling the door open the rest of the way.  She shut it behind him and said, “It’s not an imposition, but it is a pretty big surprise.  What brings you to Sunnydale?  Without calling.  Without calling for over a year.”

        “Sorry about that.”
        “There’s no need to apologize about the lack of contact, Angel.  We left things, well, in a pretty final state.  I didn’t expect any calls.  But I didn’t expect a surprise visit either.”

        “Don’t worry, I haven’t turned evil or anything like that.”

        “I know.  I mean, I can tell.”

        “It’s just that Cordelia had a vision.  I did tell you about Cordelia’s visions?”

        “Cordelia told Willow about them a few years ago.  Or complained about them to Willow.  A lot, as far as I could tell.”  Buffy seemed to relax a little.

        “Well—“  He stopped, and looked at her searchingly.  “How are you, Buffy?”

        “I’m good,” she said.  She looked into his eyes.  “How are you?”

        “Good.  Mostly,” he said.  “You look good.”  He reached out to touch her hand.  “You look more peaceful than I’ve seen you for a long time.  As if you’re happy.”

        “I am,” she said, and smiled wryly.  “Mostly.”

        “That’s good.”  He stopped, looking down as he noticed something about her hand.  “That ring.  Buffy—you’re not married?”

        “Well, yes, I am,” she admitted.

        “Oh,” he said, dropping her hand.  He was obviously taken aback by this revelation, but recovered quickly.  “So.  Congratulations.  Who’s the lucky guy?  That Riley I met a few years ago?”

        “What?  No.  That was over a long time ago, Angel.  It’s--it’s someone else.”

        “Someone I haven’t met, then?” he said.

        The phone rang before she could answer.  She looked over her shoulder into the living room.  “I have to get that,” she said.  “We were all out on patrol last night, and one of my team is still missing.”

        He nodded understanding, and listened with half an ear as she picked up the phone and said, “Jonathan!  Are you all right?”

        The answer seemed to be reassuring, so he wandered away.  The house was familiar and unfamiliar to him at the same time, and he glanced around, remembering a past that had been at times pleasant and at times unbearably painful.  He noticed a photo of Buffy and her mother on the wall along the staircase and walked up a few steps to take a closer look.

        Spike stalked down the street, muttering to himself.  “So, Spike,” he said in a mocking tone, “If you’re a good little vampire, and you put up with living in a bloody hole in the ground and fight evil demons and promise to behave, we’ll let you change so that you can spend your nights hiding in a bloody hole in the ground waiting to fight a demon.  That doesn’t show up.  Without anyone to keep you company in said hole in the ground.”  He looked up.  The streets were still dark, but the sky was already a pale blue.  As he stepped into the back yard, the first rays of sunlight hit the porch, and he smiled involuntarily.  “But there is this.  Getting to come home by daylight, not to mention having a home to come to.”  He stood there for a few moments before opening the back door and going into the kitchen. 

He was about to call out Buffy’s name when he heard her voice around the corner.  He peered through the back hall into the living room.  She was standing with her back to him as she spoke earnestly into the telephone receiver.  Not wanting to interrupt either her conversation or his quest to put his growling stomach at ease, he went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door.  He picked up a container of milk, opened it, sniffed it, and tossed it into the garbage with a grunt of annoyance.  His left hand had just grasped a juice container when he froze, all his senses on alert.   He slipped his other hand into the breast pocket of his coat and removed a stake.  Then, in one fluid movement, he jumped and turned, brandishing his weapon at the intruder he had sensed. 

        The man by the door to the dining room was standing in a position that reflected his own.  Spike almost snarled at the sight of him.  “Angel?”  His hand tightened on the stake.

        “Spike?”  Angel looked first angry, then merely confused.  “I heard you got some chip in your head that made you harmless, but I thought Buffy would have killed you by now.  She lets you in the house?”

        Spike did snarl then. 

        Angel was staring at Spike’s left hand.  “What’s that for?”

        Spike realized he was still holding the orange juice container, and he set it down on the counter with a thud that almost crumpled it.  “Breakfast,” he said in an ironic tone.  “I see that no one has brought you up-to-date on all the changes in my eating habits.”

        “What’s that supposed to mean?” said Angel, moving forward cautiously.  He was clearly uncertain that Spike posed no threat.  “How—?”  Before he could finish, he saw a figure against the blinds on the kitchen door and jumped back into the shadows of the dining room.  “Look out!” He called the warning to Spike out of old habit.

        Spike deliberately ignored him, turning to watch Xander come in.  As the kitchen door swung open, Spike was caught in the early morning sunlight.  He turned back to Angel and gave him an ironic smile.  “Like I said, mate, things have changed.”

        Xander had been about to greet Spike, but at this he turned and saw who stood just beyond the light streaming in through the open doorway.  “Whoa!” he yelled.  “Is dead boy evil again?”

        “No, I’m not evil, and I thought you would have stopped calling me that by now,” said Angel almost automatically.  His eyes were on Spike.  “You’re alive,” he said finally.

        “Got it in one,” said Spike.

        “If he’s not evil,” said Xander, “why are you two standing here at dawn with stakes at the ready?”

        At that moment, Buffy sailed into the room, saying, “Sorry, Angel, but I had to—Oh!  Spike, you’re home already!”

        “Now there’s a line every man wants to hear when he walks through the door and finds his lady with her ex,” said Spike ironically.

        “Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Buffy.  “He just showed up at the door.  I haven’t had a chance to even find out why he’s here.”

        “You haven’t found the time to explain some other things to him either,” said Spike.  His eyes were glinting dangerously.

        “Wait a minute,” said Angel, trying to get back into the conversation.  “I don’t understand.”  Then his eyes were drawn almost unwillingly to Spike’s left hand, which rested on the kitchen countertop.  “Oh, no,” he said.  “Oh, no.  Buffy, that’s not possible.”

        Buffy didn’t take her eyes from Spike’s.  “Not now, Angel,” she said.  “Xander, shut that door before he fries and explain things to him.  Spike, we need to talk.”  She grasped Spike by the arm and dragged him off.

        Angel stared at Xander.  “He’s not—  They’re not—”

        “Oh, yes,” said Xander.  “He is.  They are.” He paused, then went on with relentless cheerfulness.  “So, man, how’s LA?”

        In the living room, Buffy said emphatically, “I had no idea he was coming here, Spike.”

        “No, and he obviously had no idea there was any reason he shouldn’t.”

        “What is that supposed to mean?”

        “You didn’t tell him we were together, much less that we were married.”

        “No, because I haven’t told him anything at all since about two weeks after I crawled out of my grave.  I haven’t seen or heard from him since then.”

        “So you never told him that I wasn’t a vampire any more?”

        “No, of course not.”

        “Of course not.  You didn’t think it would interest him?”

        “What is this?  You’re accusing me of not talking to my ex-boyfriend as if that were some kind of crime. Why would you be jealous because I haven’t spoken to Angel?”

        He looked away for a moment, then back.  “You could have found an excuse to pick up the phone with some major news.  Or you could have talked to Cordelia and let her pass the information on.  But you didn’t let him know what happened to me because you knew it couldn’t help him.  You didn’t want to hurt him by letting him know I had something he couldn’t have.”

        “Maybe.  Maybe that’s true.  Then tell me, William, how does that give you any reason to be jealous?  You know me and what I am.  The good and the bad.  If I still loved him and couldn’t be with him, wouldn’t I be more inclined to hurt him, not less?”

        This gave him pause.  He looked down and away from her.

        She cupped his chin in the palm of her hand and pulled his head up until his eyes met hers again.  “I care about Angel enough to not want to cause him pain,” she said.  “I probably always will.  But how can you let that bother you?”

        “I know what he was to you,” said Spike.

        “And you know what you are to me now,” she said. 

        Dawn opened the front door and called a hello to Tara, who was standing uncertainly in the front hall.  “I forgot my backpack, so I came to get my books before going to school.”  She noticed Tara’s expression and then heard the low, intense conversation going on in the living room.  She read Buffy and Spike’s body language with a practiced eye.  “Wow.  The situation is at about Defcon 4.  Somewhere past the melodramatic stage and close to actual detonation,” she said.  “What started that up?  Things were pretty calm when I left last night.”

        “I’m not sure,” said Tara.  “It happened while I was in the shower.  I think it has something to do with the glowery man I saw in the kitchen with Xander.”

        “Glowery man?”  Dawn went into the kitchen, followed by Tara.  She stopped at the door.  “Angel?”

        Angel looked at her and forced a smile.  “Dawn! How are you?”

        “Okay,” said Dawn.  She turned around.  “Tara, this is Angel.  You know.  That Angel.”

        “Oh,” said Tara.  “Hi.”  She waved uncertainly at Angel and turned back to Dawn.  “That explains Defcon 4.”

        “I’m just surprised the house is still standing,” said Dawn.  She looked at Xander.  “What happened?”

        “Hey, I’m just here,” he said.

        She gave him an annoyed look.  “Xander, this is not a good time to be Emotional Avoidance Guy.”

        “On the contrary, I’ve never seen a better time for it,” he replied.  “Not wanting to be caught in the middle of this is pretty high on my priorities list right now.”

        Before she could blast him, Buffy and Spike came back into the room.  Buffy was trying unsuccessfully to smile, but Spike made no attempt at small talk.  Instead, he stalked over to the refrigerator.  He began pulling out food and tossing it on the counter.

        “What are you doing?” asked Dawn nervously.

        “Making breakfast,” he said.  “Most of us have been up all night, and unless you’ve already eaten, you’ve only got a few minutes to get something in your stomach before you have to leave for school.”  He frowned at her, struck by a thought.  “What are you doing here?”

        “I live here.”

        “Weren’t you at Janice’s last night?”  He dragged a frying pan out of a cabinet, and it hit the stove top with a clatter.  Everyone in the room except Spike winced.

        “I forgot some stuff.  Uh, Spike--”

        “Bloody hell.”  He had started to break eggs into a bowl, but the first one shattered in his hand, the shell fragments mixing with the egg white and fractured yolk.  As he stared at his hand, his breathing became ragged.

        Either the sight of Spike trying to make an omelet or the sound of his breathing had stunned Angel into silence.  Buffy looked afraid to say anything for fear of precipitating an explosion.  Most of the others looked as if they simply could not think of what to do.

        It was Tara who stepped forward.  “Spike, why don’t you let me do that while you make the toast?” she said.  When he stared at her blankly, she guided his hand under the faucet and turned on the water.  Then she pulled out a fresh bowl and began cracking the eggs with less violence and more success than he had shown.

        “I’ll set the table,” said Dawn brightly.  “Xander, help me.”  She dragged him ruthlessly after her.

        To Angel’s utter astonishment, Spike actually began making toast, and then proceeded to start the coffee.

        Buffy turned to Angel and said cautiously, “So, what does bring you to Sunnydale?”  Her eyes warned him that the explanation had better not be inflammatory.

        “Uh, Cordelia had a vision.  That there was a demon here, and that I needed to come help you with it.  That if I didn’t—if I didn’t there would be dire consequences.  Of some kind.”  He jumped involuntarily as Spike tossed another large frying pan on the stove. 

        “There are lots of demons here,” said Spike harshly.  “And we’ve no shortage of dire consequences.  Usually able to handle them ourselves, thank you very much.”  He yanked a huge knife from one of the drawers, and Angel stepped back a pace.  Then another piece of kitchen equipment, a cutting board this time, crashed onto a counter.  Spike seized an onion from a bowl hanging near the window and began chopping it into tiny pieces.

        Angel continued in a careful tone, “I’ve learned not to ignore Cordelia’s visions.  They’re usually accurate, if kind of incomplete.  But she was able to draw a picture of the demon.”  He started to pat his pockets, obviously wondering what he had done with the drawing.

        Before he found it, the back door opened and Jonathan stumbled in.  “Hi, guys,” he muttered.  He was scratched and dirty, but he looked reasonably healthy and unreasonably triumphant.  “I got it!  I got a picture of it!”  Then he noticed Angel and stared.  “Hey, Buffy, isn’t that your old boyfriend?”

        Jonathan jumped back a pace as a wordless growl emanated from Spike’s throat.  Buffy winced and looked at her husband, who was throwing food into a frying pan with unnecessary force.  The appetizing smells of bacon, onions, and mushrooms were in stark contrast to the vicious expression of the cook.  Buffy noticed what he was about to do next and intervened.  “Uh, Spike?”

        “Yeah?”  He was standing at the counter in front of the cutting board, knife in hand.  He did not turn around to look at her.

        “Do you think you could leave that off the menu for this morning?”

        This drew everyone’s attention to the object in his hand.  Spike stared at the bulb of garlic he was holding as if he had just realized what it was, grimaced, and tossed it aside.  “Yeah.  Respect for the guest’s allergies.  Right, love.”  He moved aside so that Tara could reach the stove and stood glaring at Angel.

        “So, Jonathan, you got a picture,” said Dawn in a desperate tone.

        “Uh, yeah,” said Jonathan, sidling over to a position by the counter that kept him as far as possible from both Spike and Angel, while also removing him from the direct line of attack should vampire decide to assault ex-vamp or vice versa.  “On the digital camera.”  He put the device down on the counter and pushed buttons until the picture appeared on the tiny screen.  “It isn’t as big as we thought.  The talons are pretty scary though.”

        “I’m not crazy about the tusks either,” said Tara.

        Spike and Angel were sufficiently curious to stop glowering at each other long enough to examine the picture. 

        “Hey,” said Angel, going through his pockets again.  “That’s it.  The thing Cordelia saw.”  He pulled out a penciled drawing and held it up next to the camera.

        “Now that we know what it looks like, we need to find out what it is,” said Buffy.

        “It’s a Mwrowek,” said Spike.  “They’re flesh eaters, so that fits with the gnawed bodies that have been turning up.”

        “So,” said Xander with an attempt at brightness, “It looks like both of you guys have something to contribute here.” 

        Angel and Spike both looked at him and snarled. 

        Xander’s smile deflated, and he muttered to Dawn, “You see.  I did better when I was Avoidance Guy.”

        “Let’s eat,” said Spike, tossing food onto a platter.  “At least, let’s those of us that eat have breakfast.”  He raised an eyebrow in Angel’s direction.  “Sorry, mate, we don’t keep blood in the house any more.”

        “Any more?”  Angel stared at Buffy.  “He lived here when he was a vampire?”

        “Not now,” hissed Buffy, following Spike into the dining room.

        The atmosphere during breakfast was incredibly strained, but Buffy was grateful for her sister’s attempts to create conversation by quizzing the others about their experiences the night before.  “I can’t believe you went out without me,” said Dawn.

        “Don’t worry, Little Bit.  Until this thing is slain, you can count on not going very far without us,” replied Spike.  “There will be no wandering around on your own, especially after dark.”

        “Great,” grumped Dawn.  “A monster misbehaves and I get grounded.”

        “Spike’s right,” said Tara.  “This is a really big bad.  None of us should be going off on our own.  But it doesn’t mean you can’t do things, Dawn.  It just means you have to have company.”

        “But there’s a dance at school tomorrow night.  It was going to be bad enough having big brother looking over my shoulder because Mrs. Coe’s making him chaperone again, but Janice and, uh, Janice and I were going to the Bronze afterwards.  I wasn’t counting on having Spike and Buffy along for that too.”

        “You need to work harder on your math if you think we’d ever let you out alone that late,” said Buffy.  “And, priorities, Dawn.  Monsters come before parties.  That was certainly the story of my high school career.”  She winced, realizing that high school nostalgia wasn’t the most tactful topic for this audience.  Two of the monsters she had encountered during her teenage years stared at each other balefully over the breakfast plates.

        At least, Spike had a plate, which he had cleaned in spite of his anger.  Angel had accepted only coffee.  Buffy pushed her own food around, her stomach distinctly queasy.  It’s just nerves, she told herself.  Besides, now isn’t the time to wonder why I haven’t felt much like eating breakfast for the past week or so.

        Suddenly, Spike stood up and announced, “Little Bit, we can argue about your dating habits later.  It’s time for you to get to school.  And Xander, I assume you have to go to work?”

        “What?”  Xander looked at his watch.  “Uh, yeah, I better take off right now or I’ll be late.  Uh, I could be late if you need me to drop Dawn off.”

        “No,” said Spike.  “I’ll do it.  I’ll take Jonathan and Tara home too.”

        The others stared at him in blank astonishment.  Once again, it was Tara who broke an awkward silence.  “I’d like to go to the magic shop and research this thing.  I was going to spend the morning there anyway.”

        Spike frowned.  “All right, pet, but keep the door to the cellar barred.  This beast doesn’t like sunlight much,” and his eyes flicked over Angel, “but it could use the sewers to travel.”

        “I’ll be careful,” promised Tara.

        Spike hustled everyone but Buffy and Angel towards the door.  Buffy was bewildered and a little anxious.  “William?” she called, as he was about to leave.

        He looked at her questioningly.

        “You’re coming right back, aren’t you?” she said.

        He relaxed a bit.  “Yeah, love.  I’ll be right back.”  He slammed the door behind him.

        Angel stared at Buffy incredulously.  “How did you get him to do that?” he asked.

        “Promise to come back?”

        “No, to leave us alone.”

        “I didn’t.  That was his idea.  I had no idea he was going to do it.”  She walked into the living room and sat down on a chair. 

He found a seat on the couch opposite her and sat uneasily.  “I still can’t— How did it happen?  How did he become human?”

“He—he isn’t exactly human, Angel.  Just mostly.  I think mostly.  Anyway, partly.  At least half.”  She stopped.

He waited, but nothing more was forthcoming.  “Okay,” he said at last.  “Now that we have that settled—”

“It couldn’t have helped you, Angel,” she said.  “What happened to him.  It wouldn’t work for you.  He—it’s not a spell or anything.  He, we, that is, I was pretty sure already, but I asked Tara and some other really experienced witches anyway.”

“Not a spell?”

“No.  He earned it.”

The words sat between them for some time.  Buffy cursed herself for saying them, knowing that they hurt him, but she would have felt disloyal to Spike if she had not.

“Spike.  Earned.  Humanity.”  Angel spoke each word distinctly, as if trying to draw the concept into the realm of the possible.

“You have no idea what he did, Angel.  So don’t look so incredulous.”

“I’m sorry, Buffy, but I’m just having a hard time dealing here.  When we last talked, I didn’t think we’d ever see each other again, but I was kind of comforted by the thought that you would be able to have a normal life.  I didn’t think I’d ever see this.”

        “Wow,” said Jonathan.  “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.  There were all kinds of scary rumors about him and Buffy in high school, you know.  That they were lovers, or they’d almost killed each other or--”

        “Shut up, Jonathan,” said Dawn. 

        No one reprimanded her for her rudeness, and there was silence in the car until Spike dropped Jonathan at his apartment.

        The moment Jonathan was gone, Dawn turned on Spike, leaning over the back seat to yell at him.  “Why did you leave those two alone?  Are you crazy?  I thought that was the last thing in the world you would ever do.”

        “Dawn—” said Tara urgently.

        “Don’t shush me, Tara.  Do you have any idea what life was like when those two were together?  The angst was worse than one of Spike’s soap operas.  They were always arguing and making up, and yes, I know that sounds like the way things are now, but it’s different.  Spike, you need to go back there right now and throw him out!”

        “Dawn, he can’t do that,” said Tara.

        “Yes, he can.  We’re talking about Spike here.  Spike, you don’t have to stake him, but please, promise me you’ll go make him leave!”

        Spike pulled up in front of the school.  “Go to class, Bit,” he said, refusing to respond to her entreaties. 

        Furious, she grabbed her backpack and started storming up the walk. 

        “Dawn?”

        She looked back to see him standing next to the car. 

        “It will be all right,” he said.

        “You had better not screw this one up,” she said fiercely, and turned to stride into the building.

        Spike drove on in silence.  When they reached the Magic Box, he wouldn’t let Tara go inside until he had checked that the door to the cellar was still barred and assured himself that there were no monsters lurking in the shop or the training room behind it.

        “Are you going back to the house now?” asked Tara as he was about to leave.

        “Yeah,” he said.  He looked at her uncertainly.  “Do you think I was crazy to leave them alone?”

        She shook her head.  “No.  She knows you’re jealous, but now she also knows that you trust her.”  She smiled a little.  “And making breakfast did reinforce the message of who has a human digestive system and who doesn’t.”

        He nodded grimly and turned to go.

        “Spike?”

        He looked back at her. 

        “What she did for you wouldn’t work for him.  She knows that.”

        “She asked you?”

        “Months ago.  But just to be sure.  She really knew already.  In her heart.  You had to earn your soul.  His was—well, thrust upon him.  It’s held there by a curse.   That’s not stable enough to let him become what you are.  I think she was kind of relieved.  That she shouldn’t feel like she had to try, I mean.  I don’t think she wants to share with him what she did with you.”

        Buffy had shared her blood and her life, things far more intimate than sex.  Spike nodded.

        Tara stuttered out something more before he left.  “J-just a suggestion.  Make her laugh.  I don’t mean go and do a s-stand-up routine or anything, but just say something to get rid of the tension.  She’ll appreciate it, and I don’t think it’s something he’s very good at.”

        “That’s for sure.” 

        “I know I really s-shouldn’t interfere, but--”

        “No, you’re not interfering.  Thanks, pet.” 

She noticed that for once he didn’t hesitate before opening the door and stepping out into the sunshine.

Buffy and Angel were still seated across from each other.  Their conversation was failing to progress in fits and starts.

“You love him,” said Angel finally.

        “Yes,” said Buffy simply.

        Angel’s brow furrowed involuntarily.  “Why?” he asked, as if he couldn’t help himself.

        The door opened, and Spike stepped inside.  He hovered in the hallway for a moment, watching them from the corner of his eye.  Then he called out loudly, “Hi, honey, I’m home.”

        Buffy bit her lower lip and smiled involuntarily.  “Hello, William.”

        Spike sauntered into the living room and sat down on the arm of her chair, resting his right hand on her shoulder.  He bent down and kissed her lips in a parody of the fifties sitcom dad returning home.  But when he pulled his head back and looked down at her, his eyes were deadly serious.

        “So, love,” he said, deliberately drawling out the endearment, “All caught up on gossip?”

        “Pretty much,” said Buffy, absent-mindedly linking the fingers of her left hand through his.  Her right hand came up to play with his wedding ring.  “I think we’ve covered all the important bits.”

        “Uh, yeah,” said Angel.  He looked extremely uncomfortable. 

        Buffy flushed and would have released Spike’s hand, but he held on to her fingers, his eyes intent on hers.  She swallowed hard.  “I have to get to work,” she said finally.  “I promised Tom I’d be in this morning and help him with the time sheets and billing for that job we did last week.  Besides, maybe he knows something about these Meow Mix demons.”

        “Mwrowek,” said Spike with an almost genuine smile.  “If it were the other, we could just sic Chip on it.  I checked all the demon haunts yesterday, and Tom complains that my way of doing paperwork involves too much playing with the shredder, so I suppose I should go help Tara look through the books at the magic shop.”  He turned to Angel.  “What are you going to do?”

        “I don’t know.”  Angel looked at a loss.  “I suppose I could go hide in the sewers until nightfall.”

        “Well, as long as you have your day’s entertainment planned,” said Spike, standing up.  He saw Buffy’s face, grimaced, and forced himself to add, “Why don’t you come to the magic shop with me?  You might be helpful.”

        It was hard to tell if Buffy or Angel was more thunderstruck.

        Spike rolled his eyes.  “Don’t look so bloody suspicious.  We’re both on the same side now, aren’t we?  I won’t accidentally on purpose walk you under a shaft of sunlight or drop a bottle of holy water on you.  Cross my heart and hope to die—again.”

        A half hour later, Spike was leading Angel through the sewers under downtown Sunnydale.  “Are you sure this is the right way?” asked Angel.  “I thought it was faster to go left here.”

        “Yeah, it used to be until a vortalla demon moved in about 300 yards down that tunnel,” said Spike.  “Now it could be a very long detour.”

        “And you let it stay there?”

        “Vortalla are only dangerous if you attack their nests.  If I have a choice between taking the long way about and fighting an otherwise harmless demon that weighs two tons, I’ll wear out my shoe leather,” said Spike.

        “How do you know all this crap about demons?” asked Angel.  “I remember that all you were ever interested in was a good fight.”

        “A tendency to get bored easily has its advantages. Drusilla and I knocked around a bit after you got all soulful.  Wound up in a bunch of places, and I paid attention to more than just the victim of the moment.”

        “The savvy demonic traveler, is that it?” asked Angel.

        “Just about.  Watch out for this bit; someone knocked a hole through the roof—well, actually Buffy and I knocked a hole in the roof—and you could catch a sunburn just here.”

        Angel edged along the tunnel with his coat pulled up over his head.  He wondered if Spike had deliberately brought him this way to subject him to this indignity.  He made a mental note to ask Buffy about the reality of the vortalla, and then thought better of it.  Buffy didn’t seem to want to hear anything bad about Spike.

        A few hundred feet further on, they emerged in a dark cellar filled with shelves and smelling of herbs and strange spices.  Angel looked around, surprised.  The magic shop had never carried this varied a stock when he lived in Sunnydale.  He peered in surprise at a mummy’s hand that had been nailed to the wall by a dagger.  It was covered with dust, and he wondered why it had been left there for so long.

        A figure stepped out of the darkness and lumbered toward them.  Angel saw demonic features and jumped to the attack.  He was about to fell the strange, lumpy beast before him when Spike grabbed his arm. 

        “Getting a bit impulsive in your old age, aren’t you?” said Spike.

        “Hey!” yelled the demon.  “Watch what you’re doing!  You could hurt someone.”

        “Hi, Clem,” said Spike, still holding on to Angel.  “Don’t mind this wanker.”

        Angel slowly pulled his arm away from Spike’s grip.  He shook it carefully.  “You still have your vamp strength,” he said, disbelieving.

        “Yeah, didn’t Buffy mention that?” said Spike casually.  “Why are you hanging around down here, Clem?”

        “I stopped by with some herbs my cousin picked,” said Clem, giving Angel a wide berth.  “But the door is locked, and Tara won’t open it.  I knocked and yelled, but I don’t think she could hear what I was saying.”

        “Yeah, there’s a big bad in town, and I told her to keep the door barred,” said Spike.

        “Well, so much for the savvy traveler,” said Angel.  “Now we’re stuck down here.”

        Spike gave him an ironic look, pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket with a flourish, dialed a number, and spoke.  “Hello, Tara.  It’s me.  We’re down in the cellar.  Can you unbar the door?  Thanks, pet.”  He shut off the phone and cast a triumphant look at Angel as they heard the sound of wood scraping against the door above them.       

        “Oh,” said Angel, chagrined.

        “Pretty cool, Spike,” said Clem.  “You managed to remember that thing for once, and the batteries aren’t even worn down.  Did Buffy check your pockets again before you left the house?”

        Spike cast the demon an unfriendly glance as he began to climb the steps to the shop.

        “Ick,” said Tara.  “There’s nothing here about how to kill one, but I found out some more about its personal habits.”

        “Yeah?” asked Spike.  He, Tara, and Angel, were seated at the big table in the Magic Box, going through old books.  Clem had declined to help, pleading a previous engagement and saying that he had forgotten his reading glasses anyway.

        “It seems Mwrowek like to keep pieces of their victims to gnaw on later,” said Tara.  “They usually have a stash of bones and other bits that they go back to after each kill.”

        “That’s great,” said Angel.

        “Obviously, you and I really do have different eating habits these days,” said Spike.  “Because that information gave me no pleasure whatsoever.”

        “I didn’t mean that,” said Angel.  “I mean, that all we have to do is find its stash, and then we can wait for it there.”

        “Yeah,” said Spike.  “We can wait until it kills someone else and decides to drag home a couple of femurs for a midnight snack.  Why do I have a feeling Buffy’s going to want to get this thing before anyone else gets dead?”

        “Oh,” said Angel.  “That’s a point.  But it still wouldn’t hurt to try to find the stash, just in case.”

        “There’s also some kind of good news here,” said Tara.  “The Mwrowek’s bite isn’t poisonous.  And there’s no strange venom in its claws either.  According to this book, its worst attributes are its speed and viciousness.  Not great news, but it could have been worse.”

        The others agreed and read on in silence that was broken only when Spike demanded to know who wanted tea.  Tara raised her hand and kept reading until Spike demanded to know what had happened to all the biscuits.

        “If you mean the cookies, you ate them,” said Tara. 

        There were some profane mutterings, and Spike went off to the market.

        “I’m surprised he worked that long,” said Angel.  “That’s the longest I’ve ever seen him sit still when he wasn’t stuck in a wheelchair.”

        Tara didn’t respond.  After an unreasonably long time, Spike breezed back in with what appeared to be half the stock of a delicatessen.  Tara got up to help him make a pot of tea to go with the lunch.  “So,” she murmured under her breath, “did you put the word out about the demon’s stash while you were gone?”

        “I might have happened to mention it to a few people and other things,” he muttered.  “Just as a ludicrous idea, you know.”

        She laughed, and turned to meet Angel’s surprised glance.  She smiled at the vampire blandly and asked if he wanted tea.

        “Hey,” said Angel some time after the other two had consumed their lunch.  “There’s a story in this one about a wizard who used a spell to attack one of these things.  There’s a potion that can make it sluggish and easier to fight.”

        Tara stood up and read over his shoulder.  Then she backed away from him.  “No,” she said.

        “Why not?” asked Angel.  “It doesn’t seem difficult.”

        Tara turned to Spike.  “Tell him he can’t,” she said.  “It’s black magic, Spike.  Please, tell him he can’t.”  Her voice was quiet, but her tone was agonized.

        Spike got up and went over to stand next to her.  “Don’t worry, pet,” he said soothingly.  “No one is going to do black magic.  Not even Mr. Greasy Kid Stuff here.  He’s had enough problems with spells and curses himself to know better, if we explain it in short words.” 

        “Because I just couldn’t—if that were to start again—”  Her eyes were wide as she whispered to him.

        “It won’t,” he said.  He squeezed her shoulder briefly, and then dropped his hand, looking embarrassed.  Tara looked away, feeling guilty for showing so much neediness.  She knew that Buffy was still the only human he was comfortable touching with affection. 

Spike turned and glared at Angel.  “We don’t need suggestions from grimoires, mate.  Remember, we’re trying to get out of trouble, not into it.”

        “Is this a grimoire?” asked Angel, turning the book over.  “It doesn’t say so on the cover.”

        Spike took it.  “You can’t always tell a book by its cover.  This one’s going back upstairs where it belongs, and it’s staying there.”

        Tara smiled at Spike gratefully as he headed for the ladder.  She turned to find Angel watching her carefully.  She frowned at him and went back to her own book, wondering what Buffy had ever seen in this man.

        Buffy had never thought she would be so unhappy to leave work and come home.  After a day of reasonable adult conversation with Tom, she now had to cope with Angel and Spike’s snarking at each other.  Jonathan and Tara were not proving to be a sufficient buffer between the two, and Dawn was even more actively hostile to Angel than Spike.  And there were still hours to go before nightfall, when she could release some tension by tracking the Mwrowek.  Buffy finally left the others in the living room with the excuse that she needed to start dinner, only to have Angel follow her as far as the dining room.

        “I thought that Spike was the cook in this house now,” he said.

        She winced at the bitterness in his voice.  “Spike is pretty good at breakfast,” she said without looking at him.  “Mostly because he gets up earlier than anyone else, so he needed to learn to fend for himself.  But he’s even worse at dinner than I am.  You should probably consider yourself lucky that you won’t have to eat my cooking.”

        “Yeah, I’m lucky all right,” he said.

        She turned around.  “Angel, I know this is hard for you, but you have to try to just accept this situation.  Either that or go home.”

        “I can’t go home until I figure out why Cordelia’s vision sent me here.  And, yes, I have to admit that I still don’t get this situation, Buffy.  I mean, I knew Spike.  In the bad old days I spent more time with him than I like to think about, and I spent part of the day with him today, and he’s still just as annoying as he ever was.  I get that he has a soul, but he’s still the same pain in the ass.”

        “Just because you two didn’t get along when you were vampires--”

        “Get along?  Do you know how many times I came close to staking him myself?”  Angel’s eyes grew darker with the memory.  He seemed to be talking to himself.  “Darla, Drusilla and I would plan an attack, a really well-designed kill.  We’d set it up just so, with finesse and artistry, and then he would come roaring in and we’d be lucky just to feed, or even to get away alive.  All he ever wanted to do is brawl; he had no sense of the poetry of pain.”  He seemed too carried away with his recollections to notice Buffy’s horrified reaction.  “And if he managed to meet a human he liked, instead of turning him into a vamp, Spike would just go out drinking with the guy as if he were human himself.  But at least then he didn’t chase after other women.”  He sunk into gloomy silence.

        Buffy swallowed hard, and decided to latch on to the final and least gut wrenching of Angel’s comments.  “What do you mean ‘at least then?’”

        Angel shifted uneasily.  “Well, I didn’t mean to say anything, but I couldn’t help but notice this afternoon that he and that girl Tara—” 

        “You think that there’s something going on between Spike and Tara?”  Buffy’s expression was so incredulous that he backed down.

        “Well, not think, exactly.  I more just wondered.”

        “You know, I had forgotten how truly clueless you could be.” 

        Before the conversation could get even more acrimonious, the doorbell rang, and Angel followed Buffy into the hall as she went to open the door.  She stared in astonishment at the two people standing on the mat.  “Cordelia!”

        Tara watched as Cordelia stepped inside and gave Buffy a quick hug.  “I hope you don’t mind, but Connor and I were just sitting around wondering what to do with ourselves, and we said, ‘Gee, I bet Buffy and Angel could use some help with that big nasty demon.’  So here we are!”

        “Connor?” asked Buffy, looking at the young man standing behind Cordelia.

        “Yes, this is Connor,” chirped Cordelia.  She looked around the hall and the living room.  “Hi, Angel.  Hi, guys.” 

        Connor slouched in behind Cordelia, the picture of teenage awkwardness around adult strangers.  “Hi, Dad,” he said to Angel, then glanced at the others, and finally let his gaze rest on Dawn.

        “Dad?” said Buffy in astonishment.

        “Dad?” said Spike, who was still slouching in a corner.  His astonishment rapidly turned to glee.  “Dad?”

        “You have a son?” asked Buffy.

        “Uh,” said Angel.

        Tara edged closer to Jonathan.  “Did you know he had a son?” she whispered.

        “No.”

        “And who’s the woman?”

        “That’s Cordelia.  She used to date Xander.  Then she went to LA to work for Angel.”

        “So that’s Xander’s other ex.”  Tara’s gaze assessed Cordelia’s attractions.  Almost involuntarily, she exchanged a glance with Spike and had to bite back a laugh at his expression. 

        Under the impetus of Cordelia’s withering glare and Buffy’s confused look, Angel finally explained Connor.  “You see, Darla and I—”

        “Darla?” said Buffy.  “Creepy, evil Darla?  The woman who made you a vamp?”

        “Yeah, well, yes.  But it was a miracle, actually.  We shouldn’t have been able to have a baby on account of both of us being vampires.”

        “And you never mentioned this because—?” asked Buffy.

        “Well, it only happened about two years ago,” said Angel.  “Connor got pulled into a demon dimension and grew up there.”

        “Two years ago.  You had an affair with Darla just in the past two years?” asked Buffy.

        “That’s what I said when I found out,” said Cordelia.  “Do you believe it?  He went off and started letting Darla and Drusilla eat lawyers and the next thing you know, he was sleeping with Darla and making babies.  And didn’t say a word about it until she showed up ready to pop.”

        “Come on, ladies,” said Angel in a desperate tone.  “It wasn’t an affair.  It was just a one-night stand.  And only one baby.”

        “Eating lawyers?” asked Buffy.

        “Drusilla?” hissed Tara to Jonathan.  “Wasn’t that Spike’s ex?”

        Jonathan nodded.

        “And now Cordelia and Angel—”  Tara read the angry glance that Cordelia was shooting at Angel and shook her head in amazement.  “This just keeps getting better and better,” she said.  “I won’t need to watch any soap operas for months.”

        Angel’s explanations got more convoluted and kept landing him in even hotter water with Buffy and Cordelia, who began exchanging commiserating looks.  Spike stayed on the sidelines, leaning against a wall as he listened, looking as if he were shaking with inner laughter. 

It was Cordelia who finally said, “Is that really Spike over there?  I didn’t recognize him at first without the fangs and the peroxide.  What’s he doing here?”

        “Well, here’s a strange thing,” said Angel, jumping on the chance to change the subject.  “He’s married to Buffy.”

        “Right,” snorted Cordelia.  “And the hellmouth is about to sink into the Earth’s core.  Really, what’s he doing here?”

 Another wave of explanations and recriminations followed.  In the midst of it, Willow and Xander showed up, which required dragging everyone through the same emotional obstacle course one more time.  Dawn wandered out into the hall to get away from the noise and found herself sitting on the staircase next to Connor.  “So,” she said.  “It sounds like your family life is as screwed up as mine.”

“Mine’s got to be worse,” he said.  “My parents were both vampires and I was raised in a hell dimension by a crazed demon hunter with a vendetta against my dad.”

“Ah.”  Dawn nodded in calm understanding.  “I’m an ancient portal to alternative dimensions who was turned human by a bunch of monks to protect me from a hell god who wanted to destroy the walls between realities.”

Connor nodded too.  “So,” he said finally, “What do you do for fun in this town?”

“Well, there’s this kind of neat club called the Bronze—”

Shortly after Willow and Xander arrived, Tara’s emotions had transitioned from her initial awe at the absurdity of the situation to gut-wrenching empathy to numbness.  It was also becoming difficult to avoid meeting Willow’s eyes. 

Tara slipped out of the living room and started assembling plates of food in the kitchen.  She decided against setting the table; the more this group was split up by buffet dining, the better.  She then went out to get Connor and Dawn, who were very willing to set an example by starting to eat.  Eventually, everyone but Angel wandered out to the kitchen to fetch something.

Angel was sitting by the fireplace in the living room when Cordelia came in juggling a plate of food and two glasses.  She set down the plate and one glass and handed the other drink to Angel.  He looked at it in surprise.

“Connor and I were afraid that you forgot to pack blood,” said Cordelia.  “So we brought this up with us in an ice chest.”

“You took blood with you on the bus?”

“And didn’t even think twice about it.  Weirdness has become my way.  I warmed it up in Buffy’s microwave for you.”

“I’m sure Buffy was thrilled by that,” he commented, taking a sip.

“Weirdness is her way too.  She told me the best setting to use.  I gather Spike was still on a liquid diet when they first got together.”

He shook his head.  “I shouldn’t have come.  Something is really wrong with that vision of yours, Cordelia.”

“I’ll say.  Visions are supposed to be visual.  But most of this one was an auditory hallucination.  You know, I really don’t like those.  I keep forgetting other people can’t hear them and I start acting like one of those crazy people on the bus.  Not the ones carrying blood.  The ones that talk to themselves.”

“Are you sure you heard it right?”

“Yes,” she said in a voice tinged with equal parts irony and outrage.  “I’m sure.  Now, if you want to ask me if it means exactly what it sounds like—?”

“It can’t.  Everything I’ve seen since I got here contradicts it.”

“Yeah, and that’s not the only thing that’s changed around here.  You really can’t go home again.  You know, these were the people I least wanted to associate with when I first met them.  So on the bus, I started to think about who else I could look up during this visit.  You know what?  The freaks in this house are the only people in town I have anything in common with any more.”

“And our relationships with them aren’t exactly the best.  Buffy obviously wishes I had never come, Spike wishes I’d never existed, I think Dawn wants to stake me, and Xander doesn’t seem any friendlier to me than he ever was.  Only Willow is halfway polite, and even she seems really distracted.”

        “Well, it has to be awkward for her to meet Tara here.”

        “Right.  Huh?  Willow.  Tara.  Why?’

        “Because they used to be girlfriends.”

        “Huh?  Tara is gay?”

        “Well, duh.”

        “Oh.  Oh.  I wish I had known that.”

        “Why?” Cordelia expertly read his bewildered puppy dog expression.  “Did you say something stupid to her?”

        “No.  No.  I didn’t say something stupid, uh, to Tara. Would I do that?”

        “Totally.  I can’t believe you couldn’t tell.  Is your vamp sense so totally hetero that it includes no gaydar at all?  I mean, it’s so obvious.”

“And do you think Spike knows that about her?”

“Do I think?  When I first walked into th