The Chaos Factor by Schehrezade

Sometimes a visit from on old friend really isn't a good thing! Giles manages to lose something and it is upto Buffy and Spike to chase across the world after it. Their journey dicated by the flip of a coin which under the control of chaos magicks.

Index

Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

The cell was lit with a single fluorescent strip sunk into a recess and covered over with heavy-duty bars; it flickered on and off, illuminating the slumped form of a man. The slight buzzing hum of the light was just another added irritation that the incarcerated man had adjusted - to eventually. He could hear the screams and unearthly howls of his neighbours, both mortal and demonic, as they rattled the steel reinforced doors of their cells trying to escape the government sanctioned hellhole they resided in.

Ethan Rayne lay still on the hard mattress, his face turned to the wall as he resolutely ignored the three figures peering in through the small window in the door to his cell. He was used to the constant surveillance and discomfort; the cameras were on 24/7 and every movement and breath taken was documenting. His sessions in the ‘White Room' were also documented. Ethan snorted. As if anyone could forget the pain of those sessions. His entire body was black and blue from the beatings that were disguised as training sessions.

He threw one arm over his face, using his forearm to block out the annoying flickering of the light and mentally consigned Ripper to the seventh level of Hades; it was his fault he was stuck here being beaten and tortured. His and the whey faced girl who was his charge: the Slayer.

He was never going back to Sunnydale again! Every time he went there he had his arse handed to him, but this last time had been different. The Fyarl-shaped Ripper had been ruddy funny, but the long-term ramifications to himself were not. He was currently residing in a mystical prison at the US Government's pleasure.

"Bloody Slayer, bloody - bloody Ripper," Ethan grumbled under his breath. He was stuck in some army controlled hellhole, and the poking and prodding had gotten old about three minutes after they had decided to give him a full medical. He had spent the rest of his time locked up. Once, he'd woken up from a dreamless sleep with a pounding headache and no memory of why the back of his head had been shaved. Ethan shivered slightly and curled into a ball. His sardonic features were for once immobile as he lay there counting the lines he'd carved into the cell wall.

"Oh, this is so thrilling. It's just like visiting Arkham Asylum. All these long corridors, grim looking guards and windows into cells containing freaks and monsters. Actually it's just like the office, what fun!"

Ethan shifted slightly at the sound of the woman's voice; he refused to look round and add to her enthusiasm.

The army doctor ignored the elegantly dressed, tall brunette's comments and checked his clipboard. To his right stood the C.O of Area 51. "Sir, are you sure you want to release the inmate to her?" His youthful face showed his disgust. "A lawyer for that firm?"

The grey-haired general with a standard military crew cut nodded resignedly. "Yes, the authorisation for prisoner transfer has come from up high. We're getting a good exchange." He bit his lip, trying to refrain from adding that the entire organisation had essentially been held hostage by the woman's firm, with an offer that no one in their right mind could refuse. The medical ramifications of the exchange would save countless lives.

The woman in the grey suit nodded; a lock of her shiny hair slipped across her face and curled under her chin. Her red lips parted in a malicious smile. "Oh come on. Your government is getting a good deal. Five Nesarlin demons for a puny human, the money you guys are going to get on patents alone from those demons will more than level the National debt problem." She paused and gave them a calculating smile. "Well, that's if you can work out how to get the fluid out of their organs to cultivate the universal cure for you know what."

The General ignored her needling. "Open the cell up and get Hostile 598 ready for transport."

Ethan scrambled to his feet as the doctor pulled him off the bed and cuffed him with the magic inhibitors that he had gotten to know only too well. He let himself be dragged out of the cell and finally looked up into the suited woman's amused eyes. Something sparked inside of him - hope. Evil was vibrating off the woman and it tickled the back of his neck, sending shivers of anticipation down his spine. If she was here for him, then things were about to get interesting.

"Mr Rayne, good to finally meet you! Our firm has followed your career for quite sometime with great interest. Some of your more recent sojourns on the West Coast were slightly inadvisable, but the Senior Partners have reassured the US government that from now on you won't be going anywhere near Sunnydale." She reached around and looped an arm through Ethan's and urged him to walk down the corridor. "Come on, you've got an appointment with some of my superiors." Lilah Morgan grinned at the silent chaos worshipper, enjoying his stunned amazement; she loved it when she was in control and about to unleash untold mischief on the world. From her reports, the skinny guy as her side was going to be an asset for her client in ways Rayne had only dreamt about. "We have so much we need to get you working on for us." She reached up and tapped the back of Ethan's head. "Once we get rid of that pesky problem."

The general gritted his teeth; part of him was itching to reach for his side arm and take out the slimy magic user. He still couldn't believe his orders, to release such a dangerous individual into the general public under the aegis of some L.A based law firm. This wasn't going to end well...

A/N I know not Spuffy yet but I had to set the scene and get some villians into play - commenty goodness would be fab! There are more chapters to come today so settle in and hopefully you will enjoy this!

Writing Ethan has been great fun and a massive challenge as I have never tackled the character before!

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Chapter 2: Chapter 2

It was laundry night.

Even Big Bads had to be domesticated once in a while. After the disaster in the whelp's basement, he'd made sure that Joyce had taught him how be a good puppy and wash his stuff without turning them into cast-offs for a well dressed four year old. Otherwise he'd reek about as much as a Gornath demon in heat. Spike shuddered at that flashback. Sometimes Dru's choice of pets had been a bit questionable to say the least.

He knew Rupes' timetable like the back of his hand and the place would be empty, so he was here to take advantage of the washer and the bathroom. He'd run out of clean T-shirts and socks; and nicking them wasn't an option anymore, as the Wallmart gits were onto him. He'd been followed around by one spotty-faced berk the last time he'd gone on a pilfering spree and had come away with nothing but a pack of socks. White ones at that. As if he'd been seen wearing them.

Spike mentally rubbed his hands in glee at the prospect of invading Rupes' bathroom. His roots needed bleaching and the crypt didn't have running water, let alone a supply of Sweet and Low, thanks to the slayer's trying to get rid of her watcher's burgeoning waistline. Spike ran his free hand through his hair and sighed, sometimes he missed having Dru around to touch up his roots. Not so much now days - there was someone else but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself just yet.

Spike stumbled to a halt and frowned.

What the bloody hell was that?

There'd been a blinding flash of light coming from the Watcher's flat. ‘That wasn't right! The place should be empty.' About now he would be crooning an acoustic rendition of Lynyrd Skynyrd and living out his frustrated rocker dreams. Spike would rather yank out his fangs with a pair of rusty pliers before he would admit it - but the man could sing. He knew the Slayer and her mates hadn't a clue what the jobless old git was up to once a week. He'd only found out after he'd trailed the ex-watcher one night and watched the concert in a trendy coffee bar he would usually not be seen undead in.

Spike dropped his bag by the fountain and scented the air.

There was a whiff of brimstone and burnt ozone emanating from the apartment. Something he'd not smelled since the time Dru had decided to cast a few spells-God he hated magic. The stench of the components turned his stomach most of time; having vamp senses weren't always what they were cracked up to be. The whiff of burnt sulphur and ground bats nuts lingered in the back of the throat and no amount of Tequila cleared it out. He'd tried once and had ended up passed out naked in bed and had woken up to Dru painting his toenails red after putting his hair into tiny dolls curlers.

Spike froze as the front door swung open.

He stepped back into the shadows, seamlessly merging with the darkness, and watched a weasily-faced man with a heavy Roman nose step out of the watcher's flat. The man had sharp features and was dressed in a patterned silk shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted green cords. He was carrying a glowing long-necked glass bottle that had a large round base with a cork stopper in it. He cradled the object reverently in both hands as he knelt down and carefully placed it into a bag that had been sitting on the doorstep ready for him. The man straightened and glanced around the courtyard, as Spike leant back against the wall, letting the climbing rose hide him.

The brown-haired man adjusted his cuffs fastidiously with a sardonic smile on his thin lips and then hooked the bag over his shoulder. He rummaged in the side pocket and pulled out something small and metallic that gleamed briefly in the moonlight. He turned the piece of metal over and over, his eyes riveted to it.

Suddenly the air above the interloper's head began to whirl like a mini tornado. There were tiny flashes of lightening spinning around the spell caster as purplish blue clouds formed and circled around his body. Then it looked like the universe had folded in on itself and with a clap of thunder the man vanished.

"Well - bugger me." Spike stepped out from where he was hiding and went over to where the man had been standing. There was a charred spot on the terracotta tiles, but nothing else appeared to remain. Spike turned his back on potential discovery. A small gold charm settled quietly on the tiles beneath the shrub by the door where it had rolled just moments before his investigation.

Spike grabbed his bag, shouldered the door open and gingerly stepped around the black sooty mark. "Oi. Watcher. You still alive?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~

The flat was in a shambles; it looked like a knock-down drag-out fight had been going on for several hours. The Watcher's guitar was smashed to pieces on the ground; books were scattered across the floor, their spines broken. Papers were strewn everywhere, and the pervading stench of magic filled the air with an oily miasma. Spike stepped hesitantly over the pieces as he scanned the detritus.

"Rupes? Where the bloody hell are you?" he bellowed. Spike checked behind the couch. "You been knocked out again?"
"Keep the noise down you git. I've got a killer of a headache." Giles's voice echoed weakly down from the top of the stairs. There was a dull clatter of heavy boots and the Watcher appeared at the foot of the stairs.

Spike did a classic double take. The tweed was gone and instead there was...well, there were clothes that he would've worn. His eyes narrowed. In fact, those jeans looked suspiciously like a pair he'd lost when he had been living here.

"What the bloody hell are you wearing?" he growled, a prickle of suspicion colouring his voice and sending the hairs on the back of his neck up on end. This wasn't the old man, this was someone else wearing Rupes' skin.

Giles looked down at his ripped jeans, battered docs and the vintage Clapton tour shirt he'd dug out of the back of his closet. "Clothes. Why?" He rolled the sleeves of the shirt up and then looped his thumbs into the back of his waistband and rocked on his heels. He flashed the pole-axed vampire a cheeky grin, his eyes twinkling with humour and barely suppressed wickedness.

Spike's jaw dropped at the sound of the usually clipped accent of his fellow Englishman now sounding just like him. "You've got an earring," was all he was able to accuse with a splutter as he watched the man lope towards the kitchen and rummage in the fridge.

"Yeah, wot about it, you git? Looks like you're wearing eyeliner, but am I saying a sodding word?" Giles rummaged through the icebox and pulled out two bottles of beer. He twisted the top off one and threw it into the sink before tipping the bottle and taking a long and thirsty pull. He deftly threw the other to the shocked vampire.

Spike caught it and held it loosely in one hand as he ran the other through his hair. Something was really, really wrong with the old sod. His demon could sense something was off with the human who was now downing another piss poor American beer with relish.

"God I needed that!" Giles exclaimed with pleasure as he threw the bottle into the sink with a resounding crash.

"You did?" Spike managed to ask; his confusion tripled when the significantly changed man lit a cigarette and began to puff it with relish. The man's entire being screamed of style and panache, something the watcher had never really shown before. Whatever the magic user had done to the man had been an improvement, in Spike opinion, but somehow he doubted the white hats would agree. A vision of disapproving green eyes staring up at him made Spike grind his teeth.

Giles squinted at the vampire through the cloud of cigarette smoke that ringed his head. "Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"What's wrong with you, mate?" Giles leant on the breakfast bar and studied the unusually silent vampire.

"Wrong with me?" Spike asked as he mentally slapped himself for the squeaky voice that had erupted from his gob-smacked mouth.

"Yeah, you look like you've seen a ghost or somethin'."

"Rupes..."

"Ripper," Giles corrected, an ecstatic grin spreading across his face.

A prickle of understanding began to tug at the edges of Spike's memory. He vaguely remembered that name. "Ripper?"

"Yeah mate." Giles straightened and headed towards the front door with a bounce in his step, so unlike the staid behaviour that Spike was used to seeing from his fellow Brit. His jaw dropped even further.

Spike pivoted on his heel and watched as the man checked his hair in the small mirror by the door and then prepared to head out. ‘Slayer will rip me a new one if I let the old fart out on the town in this state.' With that thought, Spike suddenly remembered why he knew that nickname. The Slayer's mum had spilled about the Band Candy incident; her blushes had spoken more to the acutely to observant vampire than anything she had said aloud.

He frowned at Ripper's back, and then let his demon lose. His features shifted and ground as Spike's fangs dropped. With his demon to the fore, Spike let himself scent the air and examined the man closely.

"What you doing, Spike?" Ripper's faint Cockney accent broke the silence. In the few minutes since Spike had vamped out and let his demon have free reign, Giles had turned and watched him in fearless fascination. "Something wrong?"

Spike cracked his neck as his features smoothed into the handsome planes of his mortal face. "Nope, fancy a drink?" He couldn't sense all of the man's soul; part of it was there, but the rest was not within him. ‘Not good, a soulless Watcher who is magically adept would lead to no end of mischief for the slayer.' He needed to keep an eye on the man.

"Yeah, why not." Ripper grinned at the vampire and watched as the blonde man started to pull bottles out of the glass-fronted bookcase to the left of the archway to the kitchen. Spike nudged the piles of records that lined the walls.

"Why don't you get something decent playing?" Spike pulled out a bottle of Scotch and another of gin and put them on the low coffee table in front of the couch. Shrugging off his duster, he let himself slump down on the cushions and snagged a bottle. "Did I ever tell you about the time I spent a weekend drinking Mohitos with Hemmingway?" Spike asked, knowing that Ripper wouldn't be able to resist that one. Spike chuckled at the memories of those hot steamy nights in South America. "We ended up bare arsed and night fishing in the middle of a storm for sword fish with Dru."

Spike twisted the top off his beer and drained it in one go. It was going to be a long night. He'd realised that there was no way the chip would let him overpower the Watcher, so he figured drinking the man into a coma was the way to go. Once he had the old man secured, he'd get hold of the slayer and her mates and they could fix whatever mess Ripper had got himself into.

"Bare arsed? Why?" Ripper slouched down next to the smirking vampire, completely intrigued.

"No sodding idea, mate, but it was a bloody good night...shrinkage issues aside, that is."

Several Hours and many bottles of booze later

Spike sighed with relief as Giles finally slumped forward. The drained bottle of gin fell from his nerveless fingers and rolled on the floor till it came to a halt by the fireplace, next to the four other empty bottles of various spirits. Spike stubbed out the last of his fags in the overflowing tray and, as he reclined, he pinched the pack that Ripper had been smoking.

He'd talked himself hoarse with tales of the good old days, as Ripper had hung on his every word. Spike wondered if any miniscule part of Giles was inside the man itching to take notes. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on the Aurelian vampire. For the past year the watcher had been after him for more background on his unlife; and Spike had played hard to get up until now.

Now here he was, yakking his head off about incidents that would've had Giles reaching for a notebook and a pen, and instead it was Ripper's ears that were assailed with reminisces of the bygone days. Spike had even told him about the notorious incident in the German U-boat with Peaches, much to the vampire's own surprise. He never thought he'd ever tell about that one. Especially the most embarrassing bit, him falling for the Nazi's all-you-can-eat virgins party.

The slightly inebriated vampire stood; he steadied himself on the mantle and then he trudged to the chest where the chains that the old git had used on him were stored. In the background, the stereo was playing a bit of Ziggy. Spike shook his head at the dichotomy of the man who had apparently cornered the market on stuffed shirts, but at the same time had a record collection that a music lover would sell their granny for.

"You know something, Rupes? Revenge is ruddy sweet." Spike scooped the lax form of the Watcher onto his shoulder and trudged to the bathroom.

"Let's get you nice and comfy for the Slayer."

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Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Spike winced at the high pitch of the Slayer's voice as she shrieked at the top of her lungs. He clutched his head dramatically as he rolled off the couch and staggered to the bathroom, collapsing wearily against the doorframe. "Don't let him go, Slayer!" he shouted. The slayer must've come in, gone straight to the bathroom and ignored him sleeping on the couch. With a new sense of urgency, he stomped through the archway and steadied himself on the wall briefly before he stumbled down the corridor to his old prison. "Oh, sodding hell. I am never drinking again..."

Buffy whirled around and pinned the hung over vampire with a steely glare. She folded her arms and tapped a stiletto shod foot. Her face was a mixture of anger and horror at the sight of her normally staid watcher dressed in suspiciously familiar clothes and reeking to high heaven. She cocked her head and eyed the ripped jeans: they looked scarily like a pair Spike owned. "Why not?"

"Cos it took me long enough last night to get the old bugger that pissed so I could chain him up." Spike grimaced in pain as the irate Slayer smacked his already aching head and then popped him in the nose just to drive the point home. "Ow, you ungrateful mare! It's not like I could bash him over the head and then tie him up, ruddy chip," he complained under his breath.

"You got him pissed? Oh wait, isn't that ‘English Speak' for drunk? You got my Giles drunk and dressed him in those clothes?" She pointed distastefully at the ripped jeans. "Eww you perv! You saw Giles naked! And then chained him to the bath for what? Kicks?"

Spike gave her a dirty look. "No you silly bint, not for shits and giggles." He groaned and clutched his head. "Oww, my bloody head."

"No sympathy here." Buffy smacked him again, spinning around with a flounce of her flowery chiffon summer dress. She knelt down and began to rattle the chains, trying to free her still unconscious Watcher. "I cannot believe you did this to Giles; you're so petty with the revenge taking."

"I said don't do that," Spike growled and lunged for the girl's hands. He was tired out, having spent the night cleaning up the mess and then doing his laundry. By the end of it he'd felt like an undead Martha Stewart and had to have a bottle of JD to settle himself from that mental image. He'd left a message on Joyce's voice mail asking for her to contact her daughter for him, but no one had called back or turned up. In the end he had passed out on the sofa to be woken up by the slayer's not so dulcet tones screaming blue murder and going on like a fishwife.

Buffy let out something that sounded suspiciously like a growl and began to wrestle with Spike. While the two of them rolled around on the white tile floor, they were completely unaware of their now conscious and laughing observer.

"All you two need is some baby oil and you'd be set," Ripper laughed as he eyed the taut golden backside of his exposed slayer, appreciative of her dress as it flipped up when she pinned Spike to the ground. She straddled the struggling vampire, and holding his hands over his head she ignored his whimpers of pain from the chip firing. Her braless breasts hovered temptingly over his face with only a thin layer of fabric covering them from his hopeful gaze. Buffy blew her tousled hair off her flushed face, and ignored the glazed expression on Spike's face and the subtle rocking of his hips against the apex of her thighs. She risked a look over at her watcher and turned seven shades of red when she saw her Watcher eyeing her butt and practically drooling over himself.

"Oh my God! Giles!" Buffy shrieked and forgetting Spike, she leapt up and slapped her hands over her backside and backed away from the ogling man chained in the tub.

"Ripper," Spike growled at the man and slowly stood. The assessing look in the man's eyes filled him with disgusted rage. "She's like a daughter to you, you bloody nonce! You'll regret this when they fix you." Spike stepped in front of Buffy and spread his duster out covering her form. Buffy blinked at the chivalrous behaviour of the vampire that was usually a pain in her ass. She mentally slapped herself for thinking of her butt. ‘Oh my God, Giles was so checking out my...'

Buffy's eyes narrowed as her brain began to catch up with the events of the morning. She peeked around Spike at her Watcher, ignoring the two of them arguing over who was the dirtiest old man. Buffy took in her Watcher's outfit; it seemed familiar. All Buffy could think of was her mom comparing Giles to a stevedore in the sack. Then her brain melted and she cringed. ‘Gross, he's all Ripperfied again. Thank God Mom is out of town on a buying trip.'

"Ahh, wait, I know! You ate some leftover candy!" she squeaked and leapt around Spike and pinned Giles with an accusing glare. "And can I add ick, cos mouldy candy is so not good for you, Giles."

"No Slayer, not candy." Spike tried to edge in front of her, anything to cover her from the perv's gaze. "Can't you go and put a sweater on or something?" he added with a petulant tone. One thing he'd never expected was to be the protector of the Slayer's virtue, but the way Ripper was staring at the girl's boobs was starting to get on his nerves.

"But it's too hot," she answered pertly. Then Buffy noticed Giles checking her out again and crossed her arms nervously over her chest and shrank back behind Spike again.

"Nahh, let the girl alone. She's as fresh as a daisy in her little frock, gives a bloke something to think about." Ripper smirked at the now puce girl and rattled his chains as he tried to free himself. "As for you, Spike. I thought we were mates, but you've chained me in the bloody tub."

Spike growled at the bound man. "Turnabout's fair play."

"God, you are just so gross." Buffy gritted her teeth, stepped around Spike and punched Giles square between his creepy eyes and knocked him out. "Sorry Giles, but seriously, the whole drooling over me is just so wrong. And when we get you all better again I am so not putting up with the cleaning of glasses and stammering." She shook her hand to ease the ache from the impact on Giles' skull and stomped out of the bathroom, leaving Spike staring at her with undisguised admiration.

"You hit your Watcher! You bad girl, you're gonna be written up as the naughtiest slayer ever," Spike sing songed as he chased her out of the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh my God! How long does it take to get here from campus?" Buffy paced up and down waiting for Willow and Tara to arrive. Spike was slouched in the armchair facing the room next to the fire, and watched her mutter under her breath about dirty old men. He'd tried to explain what had happened and she glared at him petulantly.

She'd rung Xander's but only Anya had been there; he was on a construction job and was out of town until the weekend. Anya promised to come round and hung up muttering about how they weren't even her friends and if it wasn't for the orgasms she wouldn't set foot near the crazy bunch until Xander was there to buffer the meeting. Buffy had then paged Willow. Both the Wicca's were taking summer courses at UCS-Willow so she could get a head start on their second year and Tara because she wanted to be with Willow.

"There was a flash of light and then some guy came out?"

"Yeah, that's wot happened, pet," Spike replied patiently, which surprised the hell out of him. It was about the twentieth time she'd asked. If it had been anyone else he'd have ripped their heads off by now.

"Who was he?" Buffy demanded. Before he could reply, she whirled at the sound of a knock on the front door. "Finally."

"Buggered if I know." Spike shrugged and carried on doodling on the pad he'd stolen from Giles's desk. He studiously ignored the petulant stare that Buffy directed at him as she flounced to the door.

"Spike, you're like totally not helping," Buffy muttered angrily as she pulled the door open and ushered Willow and Tara in. "Good, at last you're here! I've been freaking out-which is so not fun when you're on your own. Giles is all Band Candy weird again and Spike chained him in the tub-which I...guess we should be kind of grateful for. But we need to do something to get Giles back. Cos the whole Humbert Humbert routine is so gross and I am not punching him again, it's just so wrong me hitting Giles."

"Not sodding helping am I?" Spike leapt to his feet and glared at Buffy. "And since when have you cracked a book? Humbert Humbert?" He rolled his shoulders and stalked over to where the three girls were standing staring at him in all his Big Bad glory. "Ungrateful bint."

"Heeey!" Willow smacked Spike on the elbow. "Don't call her that. I know what the means, I checked." She shook her head at the suddenly sheepish vampire. Satisfied with her chastising duty, Willow grabbed Buffy before she started pacing again and gently turned the worried slayer to face her. "What the frilly heck do you mean Giles is Band Candy weird? I thought that we got rid of all the bars. Cos Giles, with the whole teen rebellion thing again, is not good. Eyghon much!" Willow shuddered at the memories. "Did you say you hit Giles? Oh my God. Buffy you can't hit Giles. That's just...so bad."

Buffy rubbed the back of her neck, her fingers lingering on the slightly raised scar, remembering the tattoo that had cost her a load of money to remove. She winced at Willow's censure over the knocking out of her watcher but didn't say anything, even though she thought Willow wouldn't be so judgy if it had been her ass he'd been ogling. Instead she pulled the thick sweater Spike had forced upon her after they had left the bathroom around her slim form and hunched her shoulders.

Tara was staring out of the open door, a faint frown on her face. She reached behind her and caught hold of Willow's free hand with hers and tugged it gently to get her attention. "Honey, can't you feel that?" She pointed to the side of the front door, her face a picture of concern and worry. Something magical was hidden under the bush. Its power was throbbing through the atmosphere, making her stomach roil, and it was discordant and jarring.

Spike thrust the notepad he'd been scribbling on into Buffy's hands and then went to peer over Tara's head into the sunlight. He carefully avoided the direct light and watched as the red head started poking around in the bushes. "What is it?" He rested his hands gently on her shoulders, missing the small smile the shy blonde girl shot him. Despite listening to Willow and Xander rant on and on about Spike being evil and the whole bottle in the face incident, she had decided to draw her own conclusions about the irrepressible vampire.

And her conclusion was - she liked him.

In her opinion, there was much more to the vampire than the surface image of black leather, bleached hair and a blustery attitude; Tara sensed more to him. It was as if like were calling to like; she could feel an innate shyness deep within him and that had tempered her knee jerk reaction. He maybe a vampire, but to her he was a big softie. It was apparent in the unconscious glances of pure longing that he directed at Buffy. She doubted that either of the two blonds were even aware of the attraction zinging between them, and she wasn't going to be the one to enlighten them. Buffy was still aching over Riley leaving Sunnydale after the whole Adam showdown; the solider had been unable to cope with the ramifications of being used as a test subject by a woman he had trusted with all his being. Maggie Walsh's betrayal of his trust had created a deep change within Riley and he had decided a clean break from everything was the only way he would recover himself from the wreckage the Initiative had made of his life and career. Buffy had been a casualty of that decision, and she was still a bit sore over it. So Tara felt that if she announced Spike's attraction to Willow's best friend it might end in a dusting. She decided that it was something that the two of them would have to discover in their own time.

"Glinda, you okay?" Spike's voice was filled with a soft concern that calmed her senses instantly.

"Somethings leaking out a load of power. It feels really odd..." Tara rubbed her hands together, trying to wash the miasma off her. "Willow, please don't touch whatever it is with your bare skin, not until we can check it out."

"Here." Buffy knelt down next to Willow and gave her a pair of kitchen tongs she'd grabbed out of the kitchen utensil holder on the breakfast bar. "Use these."

"Ohh, shiny." Willow used the tongs to pick up a small gold oval coin and held it up to the light. There was an ethereal glow to the piece; the power was pouring off it, making her feel giddy and filling her with a euphoria that was giving her tingles all over.

"What is it?" Spike craned his neck, trying to make out the small object. It smelled of the same dark magicks that had surrounded the man last night and it made his fangs itch.

Willow and Buffy stood in unison and walked back into the apartment. Willow held the gold coin out in front of her and gingerly dropped it onto the table near the stairs. The four of them sat down carefully around the table and looked at it. The last time so many of them had been there was at the previous Thanksgiving debacle. Buffy absently placed the notepad in front of her and watched as Willow poked the gold charm with a pen with a curious frown on her face.

"There's some major power coming from it. I wonder what it does?" The redhead was filled with fascination. Part of her was aching to pick it up, but Tara's presence prevented her from doing so. If she had been alone then that coin would be in the palm of her hand no matter what the consequences. But then her attention was distracted; she nudged Buffy and pointed at the notepad.

Spike peered at the tiny etching on the gold disc. "Is that a goat's head on a bloke's body?" When no one answered him he looked up and saw that both Willow and Buffy were staring at the notepad with pale faces. Tara was focused on the coin, oblivious to the tension in her two friends.

"Spike, is this the guy you saw coming out of here last night?" Buffy's voice sounded flat and distant as she pushed the pad into the centre of the table. Willow let out a shocked gasp as recognition dawned on her.

Spike glanced at the rough sketch he'd made of the man. "Yeah, that was the bloke. M'not as good with the creepy drawings Peaches liked to leave on beds, but it's not too bad a likeness." He shrugged.

Tara slid the pad out from under Buffy's lax hand and turned it to face her. "Who is it?"

"Ethan Rayne." Willow shook her head in surprise. "But I don't get it. I thought the army took him into custody after the whole turning Giles into a demon thingie last year."

Buffy's full mouth was compressed in a thin line. "Me too. But then again, it's not like Riley and Professor Walsh were totally honest with us."

"So that's the bloke that turned Giles into a Fyarl. Wonder what he did to Rupes this time." Spike picked up the pen Willow had dropped and poked the coin. "I swear that looks like some sort of goat's head. What's on the other side?" He flipped the coin over using the nib of the pen, revealing an all too familiar image.

Willow gasped in surprise. "That's Janus. It looks like the statue Giles smashed in the fancy dress shop-the one Ethan rented. Oh this is not good." Willow prodded the coin. "Is that some kind of writing on the face and around the edges?"

Spike vamped out; his eyes were sharper when his demon was to the fore and he stared at the tiny writing. "Looks Celtic."

Before anyone could say anything else, the front door slammed open and Anya flew into the room. "Sorry I'm late. What did I miss?"

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Chapter 4: Chapter 4

"Spike! You didn't tell us that!" she yelled furiously as she reached down, yanked the vampire to his feet and then off them. The irate slayer easily held him off the ground with one hand as she pulled back her free hand to punch him.
Only to be stopped Tara. "Buffy let him go." Tara shook her head in shock at the easy way Willow's friend slips into violence around the neutered vampire. She tried not to let her disappointment show but the faint gleam of guilt in Buffy's eyes made her realise she hadn't managed it.

"Ohh, someone stole Mr Giles's soul? Where is he? I want to have a look." Anya's eyes lit up with interest as she scanned the room, searching for Giles.

"Spike how do you know Giles's soul has been stolen?" Willow frowned in concentration; she regarded the vampire with calm assessing eyes. Spike noticed that her fingers were close to the coin and twitching with a barely suppressed desire to handle it.

Spike wrapped his hands around Buffy's wrist and tried to pull free. "Slayer, let go or I won't tell you anything."

"Fine." Buffy released him and then glared at the bleached menace as he straightened his clothes and smoothed back his hair.

"M'demon sensed it," Spike explained as he headed for the kitchen area and began to search for some painkillers. He had no idea if they'd help with the hangover, but putting a bit of distance between himself and the irate slayer seemed to be a wise plan. Spike cursed himself for drinking the Watcher's drinks cabinet dry, but the temptation had been too much. Once he'd chained the old git into the tub the vampire had gone on a bender, figuring why the hell not? It was free booze and the Watcher wasn't in charge of his body at the moment. So no come back there - well except for the headache.

"And again I say now you tell us!" Buffy stormed at him as she shot past the kitchen to go and check on her partially souled Watcher.

"Slayer, only a bit's missing. There is something else in him, but m'not sure what." He called after her rapidly disappearing form.

Anya crowded behind her, along with Tara, both of them peering through the doorway at the still unconscious man chained in the tub. Spike remained where he was, his eyes fixed on Willow. He knew if he left the room the witch would be all over the coin and causing no end of trouble for them all. So he stayed there, for once the one with self discipline, his skin itched at the responsibility he had oozing from every pour. ‘Slayer better appreciate all this.'

"He looks cute."

"Anya!" Buffy hissed in a scandalised tone. "Don't say that he's Giles. Giles's isn't cute, he's repressed older guy who wears granddad clothes and disapproves of us being all tra-la-la-la with the college stuff."

Anya knelt down next to Ripper and ran an assessing glance over the limp form, "that is not Giles."

Tara nodded her head in agreement, "she's right Buffy, he feels different."

"So how do we fix him?" Buffy asked with a weary sigh and a wary glance at Anya, she didn't want to know how the ex-demoness could tell part of Giles's soul was missing. "Cos the aged rocker look isn't gonna work for long. It's just so ooky. The Hefner look last year was bad enough compared to this though it was the height of fashion." She wrinkled her nose at the recumbent form of her watcher dressed in ripped jeans and some old group's T-shirt.

"I heard that slayer, and those are my ruddy jeans, Ripper half inched em." Spike voice echoed through the place.
~~~~~~~~

Buffy hunched her shoulders and slapped her hands over her ears, anything to block all the new British curse words that she was learning and she thought Spike had a potty mouth! Spike was slouched on the couch next to her, eyeing the archway and pondering if he could get away with shoving a gag into old git's gob. The constant diatribe and never ending bellowing weren't helping his hangover.

"My goodness he is colourful when he is riled up." Anya looked up from the book she was pretending to research and gave Tara a tentative smile. She was unsure how to behave with a lesbian witch, Xander hadn't explained how yet, and she didn't want to let him down by doing anything wrong.

Willow muttered something under her breath and took some more notes, her hair mussed and sticking out in all directions when she repeatedly ran her fingers through it as she researched . They had all decided that the best way to fix whatever Ethan had done was to find him. Scrying for him using a Sunnydale map had been less than successful. In fact the quartz crystal pendant had swung in circles and then swung to the right and circled over the gold coin that Willow had found.

"Yeah, maybe you could go and knock him for six again slayer?"

Buffy glared at the vamp and then sighed. "Tempting but so not the way I want to go, Giles's head is always taking the lumps -err Wills can't you like," she waved her hands around in front of her face, "magic him to sleep? The concentration factor here is being seriously limited with all the arses, buggers and fecks. Spike, what's a feck?"

"Ask your bog trotting ex." Spike tossed the book he had been holding onto the coffee table and lithely rose to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head and began to groan in relief as his back cracked and the muscles on his spine unlocked from the hunched over position he'd been crammed into. He smirked. ‘Then again it's not as bad as when I was chained to the tub, bet Ripper's arse is numb by now.' He failed to notice Buffy's head jerk away after she snuck a peek at the thin line of hair that disappeared under his waistband or the incipient blush starting on her cheeks.

"If one of you sodding girls doesn't let me go now I will call down the wrath of Eyghon on you!" Ripper bellowed from the bathroom.

"Yeah, yeah...pull the other one. You know Angel wasted your demon buddy years ago." Buffy shouted back. "All my respect for Giles has so gone the way of the Dodo now," she added under her breath. She exchanged a private grin with Spike and then frowned confused at the easy camaraderie between them.

Tara slipped into the kitchen and began to brew something in a small copper pan; she pulled open all the cupboard doors searching for ingredients. After a few moments, she stirred the contents and then disappeared down the corridor, the others heard the bathroom door open, a murmur of voices before it then clicked shut.

Then there was blessed silence.

"Wow, she's good." Anya nodded her appreciation apparent on her open face. "Do you think she poisoned him?"

"No, I put him to sleep. It's only a temporary measure, but he was getting a bit loud." Tara shrugged apologetically. Spike nodded at her in approval and then flopped back onto the sofa his fingers massaging his temples as the silence eased the pain levels that had been burgeoning on explosive for several hours.

"Oh-oh! Oh! Guys! I think I found something!" Willow squeaked excitedly. Buffy, Tara and Anya crowed around behind Willow's chair and peered over her shoulder at the book she was holding. Spike remained on the sofa, playing it cool. It wasn't like he was that interested, was he?

"Look, the coin here, it's similar to the one I found," Willow pointed at an engraving in Tellers Guide to Teleportation and Transdimensional Travel.

Buffy frowned at the small black and white image. "It looks kinda the same, but the decoration is different."

"I know, but look here," Willow pointed to a passage under the image. "Oh wait, it's in Latin...basically it says that the person who creates the coins etches on the places he or she wants to go to and when you handle the coin wham you get pulled there."

"So it's a good thing you didn't touch it then?" Anya nodded confidently to herself. "You might've ended up somewhere defenceless and been eaten by ravening hordes of Fomorians, you know I think they like to eat virgins. Oh wait, you're okay since you've been deflowered and are now a sexual adventuress with girls. Definitely not a virginal miss, are you?" Anya slapped her hand over her mouth, "I did not mean to refer to your preference of women now, but I do want to know what you use to... urk!" This time it was a pale masculine hand that was slapped gently over her mouth.

"Less of the nattering about Red's sexlife," Spike warned as smirked at a blushing Willow, "not that all of us aren't itching to know..." he added teasingly. Then in a more of a need to know tone, "And more about these Formorians."

"Yeah, the Formanchoos. Make with the explainy, and also heeeey for not telling us you knew what the goaty man was all about." Buffy chided Anya with a cautious smile. She still wasn't a hundred percent sure how to treat Anya. Their friendship was new and also at the back of her mind she still remembered Anya's reign of vengeance. So for now it was friendly with a pinch of caution. Buffy mentally jumped for joy over the information Willow had found, relief filling her as they were now one step closer to getting to Ethan and beating the hell out of him.

"Okay, Formorians are some sort of Irish deities. They were similar to the Titans in a way. I think they were beings of chaos and nature or something like that, it's been so long and I really can't remember much. All I know is there were some centres of worship in Galway..." Anya trailed off when Tara nodded in agreement.

"This makes sense. Willow, did you say something about this Ethan person worshipping chaos?"

"Uh huh, and this ties in with the compass symbol, which turns out is a chaos symbol as well, its kinda Ethan's calling card isn't it?" Willow squeaked excitedly. "Oh, we are so getting this fixed. All we need to do is work out why Ethan stole part of Giles's soul and where he's heading and why he is all with the coin usage...oh that's a bit of a hurdle right?" she ended sheepishly, Willow ducked her head and stared at the engraving wishing she could do more to help.

Tara nodded. "Yes, but at least we know how to get to him," she pointed to the coin.

"Yeah but then what?" Buffy sighed morosely. She was at a loss; her rudder was currently sleeping the sleep of the magically unconscious chained to his own tub. She wanted to go out and kill something but the longer they let Ethan get away the harder it would be to get him back.

Anya breathed heavily through her nostrils. "Obviously you steal back the bottle with the glowing stuff in it that Spike mentioned. Spike, before you go you must draw a picture for us so we can find it in these books and once you find the bottle remember to kill this Ethan person. He is a very naughty man stealing parts of Giles." Anya slapped her hand on the table and rose. She began to tidy up the books, "Willow and Tara need to work on a spell to bind Giles's soul back into his body. Maybe some sort of bastardization of the ensouling spell you used on Buffy's old boyfriend?" She looked over at the gob-smacked slayer, "Buffy, you need to get some clothes packed, I imagine Ireland is wet and soggy at this time of year, take some boots with you." Anya pivoted on her heel and poked an authorative finger into Spike's chest. "And Spike you better get some blood packs. You might need it once you get to the Emerald Isle. Just remember not to get into a card game with Leprechauns -they bite when they lose." She neatened the pile of books, head down and focused on her task, utterly oblivious of the open mouthed stares of surprise, respect and admiration being directed at her for taking charge and organising everyone.

"Oi, since when am I going to Ireland?" Spike growled. "I've done my bit for the good guys, what with the inhaling of dust from Rippers old books. That's it for me; I've got better things to do with my time than go to the land that spawned the giant forehead."

"Oh Spike, really, remember who you're travelling with and buckle up!" Anya whispered to the vamp and smacked him gently on the chest, her brown eyes wide and filled with suppressed mirth. "And I am serious no poker games with small green men. You are probably attached to your penis and testicles and they go for those."

Spike glanced over at the three girls who were chatting quietly to each other. "What the bloody hell are you talking about Demon Girl?" his voice a bare whisper; if he had a heartbeat then it would be pounding fit to burst. A small blood vessel popped out on his temple as he suppressed the desire to cover little Spike, the mental image of a small green man hanging off his meat and two veg. by their sharp pointy teeth was the stuff of cold sweats and nightmares.

"Oh really Spike, your secret's safe with me. Now do you want me to go to your crypt and pack a bag. Blood, smokes, black clothes and some weapons?" Anya replied perkily and headed out of the apartment before the befuddled vampire could say a word.

"What secret?" he asked himself, determined not to accept what his subconscious was already sure of. ‘Christ the nosey bint's going to go through all my stuff.' He let out a tiny whimper, knowing that he was trapped by the sunlight and that in about five minutes Xander's girl would find his journals.

He just hoped she would be gentle with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow straightened Buffy's jacket collar. "Okay you've got clean clothes?" Buffy nodded. "Weapons?" Willow asked in a maternal voice. This time Spike nodded and hefted a bag that rattled and clunked ominously. "Giles's credit card?" Buffy nodded and patted her pocket. "You have the pin number, right?" It had been Anya's suggestion that the watcher finance the retrieval, seeing that he had been careless enough to lose part of his soul in the first place. He should know enough to be cautious around Ethan by now so it was only fair.

"Yes, Red we know the number. We've packed our clean underpants and have our stakes ready." Spike interrupted Willow, irritation tingeing his voice. He looked over at Anya wondering what the hell the ex-demoness had been on earlier.

Willow shot him a reproving glance. "Less with the lip mister. This is a big deal, Buffy's never left the country before. Unlike ‘Mr I've-lived-forever-and-trotted-around-the-globe-so-many-times-it-doesn't-matter'."

Spike ducked his head and mouthed an apology. He wasn't happy about being sent off with the Slayer to rescue Rupes glowy bits. There was a footie match on and he was heading over to Peaches spawning ground. "My life stinks worse than Xander's week old socks."

Buffy ignored him as she reassured Willow, hugged Tara and Anya and then hefted her backpack. Willow's face was a picture of worry and misery and her lower lip wobbled ominously.

"Buck up Red, I'll bring you back a four leaf clover." Spike patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Ready?" Buffy asked. He nodded with a resigned sigh. She reached over grabbed his hand, he could feel her clammy fingers as she reached out and plucked the coin off the dining table with her free one.

There was a crackle of lightening and a small cloud began to coalesce above their heads. As it sank down over their bodies both the vampire and the slayer gasped in pained surprise as the building agony in their bodies as their muscles seized.

Spike's final thought was how much blood a vamp could lose by vomiting before he dusted.

"Oh bollocks, this hurts!"

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Chapter 5: Chapter 5

"Willow, the crystal you gave Buffy to locate Ethan with, is this the spell you used to enchant it to his signature? And this symbol?" Tara pushed the scrap of paper over to Willow and stared at her aghast. "Do you realise what you've done?"

"What is it honey?" Willow came over and glanced absently at the symbol she'd used as an anchor for the focus of the spell to track Ethan.

"Yeah, that was the one I used. I needed something to identify Ethan and well, he is a Chaos adept so I figured that was the way to go. Why?"

"It's a Chaos symbol," Tara replied, her face ashen. Her skin was crawling just looking at the image; it felt as if a hundred fire ants were biting her all at the same time. She briefly wondered why Willow hadn't felt the same when she was casting the spell.

"What your very upset girlfriend is saying is that you've used a symbol that dark magic users use in Chaos magicks. Are you a practitioner of the black arts?" Anya cocked her head and studied Willow. "Xander has told me of some of the spells you've cast and they do border on slightly murky, especially that one we all were a victim to last year-the Will Be Done one. No wonder Hoffy's interested in you. But this one takes the cake."

Willow turned beet red with anger.

Tara interceded, trying to soothe her careless girlfriend. "Willow, it's just that the spell we need to create for the return of the stolen piece of Giles's soul is going to take a lot of work to avoid going into black magicks now. If you used this as the axis for the locator spell and the one that binds Spike and Buffy to the icon to help them use it for travelling to where Ethan is...well I just don't know how we can work around it..."

~~~~~~~~

"Holy hell!" Spike bellowed as his body finally stopped rebelling against the transportation spell the coin had used to get them to where they both were standing - well, sitting. The swirling thunder clouds that marked their passage from one Continent to the other gradually faded and the two travellers appeared in its stead.

"Spiiike?" Buffy whimpered and then retched. Her stomach was in about the same state as his after the roller coaster ride from California to...well, a dank dark cave with no natural light. Spike vamped out, trying to see if he could get his bearings. He gingerly extracted his crushed fingers from the Slayer's death grip and massaged his mashed knuckles. The air in the place was stale and damp; all he could smell was moist earth and the residue of power in the ozone from the spell that had carried them here.

He knelt, ignoring the rather ominous squishing noises as he steadied himself with one hand in the peaty mud and reached around Buffy and fumbled in her backpack. There was a metallic click and then there was light. The cave that they had appeared in was massive; the walls were rough and seemed to be covered in purple crystal formations that weakly reflected the torchlight back at them. There were incipient stalactites and stalagmites dotting the ceiling and the floor.

"Have to thank demon girl when we get back, right good packer that one. Wonder if she put in a Swiss Army knife?" Spike shone the torch into Buffy's pale face. "Christ Slayer, you gonna toss your cookies on my Docs again?"

Buffy firmed her lips and gingerly shook her head. "Mmmm, nope. Gah, someone could've said it was going to be like riding in the Tilt-A-Whirl." She clutched her stomach and then staggered drunkenly to her feet. "Oh, hey! Check it out." She opened her clenched fist and there sitting in the palm of her hand was the coin that had brought them to the caves they were in. "It stayed with me. I wonder why?"

Spike prodded it cautiously with his finger. "Can't feel any mojo on it; maybe it's burned out?" He gingerly took the piece from Buffy and slipped it into a pocket in his duster. "Best keep it secure until we can find a way to get rid of it safely." He swung the torch about the cave, trying to get his bearing and the two blondes lurched backwards in surprise, hands raised defensively as the beam illuminated a twenty foot tall stature of a goat-headed man.

"Crap, it's huge..." Buffy squeaked. She tilted her head back and stared in awe at the monolithic statue. "He's kinda ugly, isn't he?"

"Yeah, and it looks just like the engraving on the coin," Spike growled.

Buffy ignored Spike as she searched for Ethan. She clambered around some rocks and then squeaked in triumph. "Look." She pointed to a fissure in the cave wall. "He must've sleazed his way out that way. Come on, we need to get going." She headed off without a backward glance, her focus on getting her watcher's stolen soul back and hopefully pounding Ethan into the next century. The creep was starting to get on her last nerve. She had really thought that the government would've been able to keep a hold on the slimeball. All he ever did was make trouble for her and Giles.

Spike's shoulders slumped. "No point fighting it, mate. You already agreed to help the silly mare, best go along with her for now." He shone the torch ahead and followed the diminutive slayer out of the cave. While it had once been the centre of worship for the Formorians, it now obviously lay abandoned. Forgotten by most, its power and influence diminished in the mists of time and with the advent of Christianity. There were few exceptions, such as a few Chaos worshipers and a certain law firm who had been there since the beginning of creation.

The only sound in the abandoned cave once the slayer and the vampire had left was the faint dripping of water. In the darkness there was a faint gleam of gold; the statue had opened and laying in the palm of the massive stone hand was a coin. The golden oval started to shimmer with building power as it slowly drew strength from the focus of chaos.

It waited, ready for it's creator to use to move onwards when the time was right.

~~~~~~~~

Anya flicked through a magazine and sighed. She was really bored; all this do-gooding seemed to entail little but sitting around waiting for Buffy to fight something large and hairy, and then come back for pizza and movies. She curled her legs up and tucked her feet under a small cushion. At least Giles's apartment didn't smell of cat pee and there were no angry parents yelling overhead. She sighed loudly and eyed Willow who was currently installed in Giles's favourite armchair and building up a good sulk.

"Willow, you really should relax. It's not like you negated the universe or anything." Anya pasted on an appeasing smile and hoped that her cheering up was working. Her smile faded at the irritated glare Willow shot her. "Well, if you'd tried a Sumerian translation of the words to travel through space rather than the Latin you did use, then you would have," Anya huffed at her and then lifted the ‘Modern Watcher' magazine she'd found on the coffee table, utterly oblivious of the aghast expression on Willow's face.

"Are you serious?" Willow shrieked.

"Yes she is, you silly bint. Now shut it, I have a pounding headache thanks to your dolly bird," Ripper bellowed back from the bedroom.

They had moved him from the bathtub after Spike and Buffy had left and chained him to the headboard. The three of them had managed to drag the supine form of the older man up the stairs. It had been a struggle for three girls with no claim on superpowers but it at least made life easier for pee breaks. They had kept him unconscious for as long as they could, using the time to gather all the magical elements of Giles's work into his weapons chest, and then had called the Super asking him to put it into storage for Mr Giles. Tara was checking that the chest was secure and that she had a copy of the key to the storage area in the basements. They had realised that Ripper was a consummate spellcaster and if they wanted to keep him contained until Buffy and Spike got back then the place had to be stripped. Once they were done, Tara and Willow were going to cast a confinement spell and then Ripper would be free to move around.

Willow's lower lip trembled and she paled in horror at how close she'd come to wiping them all out. She looked over at Anya and then let her eyes drift downwards. She wasn't going to get any sympathy from the ex-vengeance demoness. "I wish Tara was back..."

"You really should be very cautious about saying ‘I wish.' That path can lead to vengeance and suppurating sores on your sexual organs," Anya commented idly as she leapt up and headed into the kitchen. "Can I get you a soda?"

Willow sighed and shook her head; she had no idea what Xander saw in Anya. She was blunt, obsessed with sex and always said the wrong things in front of Tara, making her look bad in her lovers eyes.

"Hey!" Tara pushed open the door and waved at Willow. "All done. We can do the you know w...what."

"What took you so long?" Willow hissed as she skittered past Anya and urged Tara into the apartment.

"I made this with some of Mr Giles's supplies." She held up a small pouch. Anya came round the breakfast bar and sniffed it.

"Oh very clever." She nodded approvingly. "We need to hide this somewhere safe."

"W...well, I...I...I was wondering if maybe you could wear it? Willow and I h...have to go to some classes and we'll be researching the enjoining spell so we can't be here all the time." Tara gulped and waited for Anya to flip out.

Anya took the small pouch and eyed it briefly before tucking it into her bra. "So I get to baby sit the rogue?"

"Errr, yeah?" Tara nodded. "But we'll take turns as much as we can so you don't go stir crazy or anything."

Anya shrugged. "Okay. It's not like Xander's around to play with. I can baby-sit Ripper."

"What are you witches whispering about?" Ripper growled and the three girls could hear the headboard smashing against the wall as he tried to free himself. "Hubble bubble, toil and trouble..." he taunted them as he grunted and thrashed against the chains keeping him contained.

"Nothing," Anya sing songed as she watched Willow and Tara perform the spell that would let them in and out but keep Ripper from leaving and causing chaos on the Hellmouth. She fingered the pouch that Tara had given her. It was a simple spell but a clever one.

Ripper would not know what had hit him until he tried to cast a spell. Tara had bound his powers and given the control over to Anya. ‘Oh this is going to be so much fun.'

~~~~~~~~~

"Let me check that it's not sunny." Buffy stuck her head out of the entrance of the cave system they'd been trudging through. She took in a deep breath of the cool night air. "It's okay. Come on." She stepped out into the crisp Irish night and peered curiously around; the cool night air made her breath visible as she greedily inhaled the country air.

"Looks like we're in the middle of nowhere." Spike slipped past Buffy's still form and examined the area. They were standing in a valley; there was a thick wood to the far end and in between nothing but fields and streams. There was no sign of Ethan. He looked behind them and spotted a path following the slope of the valley. "He must've headed up that way. Come on, Pet." In their hurry to get out of the cave, neither of them remembered the crystal Willow had enchanted for them; it was tucked away in Buffy's backpack waiting to be rediscovered.

Buffy hefted her rucksack and trotted after the vampire. Part of her wondered why she wasn't pissed at the bloodsucker, but mainly she was relieved he was here to help. It wasn't like she'd ever been anywhere outside of the US and Spike had been around the world a few times.

Her innate animosity had been fading for a while. Especially recently; it had started at the beginning of the summer. Spike had appeared on patrol one night, lugging a sword and with a stake or two tucked into his pockets. After she pounded him once on the nose to keep him on his toes, she'd demanded an explanation.

He was there to keep her company, figured that the others were too busy to help out. She had stared at him blankly, stunned into silence. One thing Buffy had learned was that if she stared at the peroxide pain in her ass and not say anything, he usually crumbled and started to talk. It had worked again that night. Spike had caved and began to ramble on about getting his violence the only way the Initiative had left him, fighting demons and vamps. His only snarky remark being that Captain Cardboard had let her down when he'd turned tail and run home to his mommy and that he was here to watch her back. There had been a wary look in his eyes, one that had stopped her from pounding on him; instead they had begun to patrol the cemeteries together, occasionally exchanging a quip or two. None of the usual verbal sparring matches. Something intrinsic had changed in Spike after he'd been chipped and he had slowly changed. Infact, he was still evolving. Buffy wasn't sure what into, but it was a hell of lot better than the Spike who had originally pitched up in Sunnydale.

If things progressed the way they were, they might even end up being friends.

~~~~~~~~~

Spike and Buffy stood and stared at the wreck of a village. The sheer decay of the place told them that it had been uninhabited for over a century, if not more. The desolation of the once quaint Irish community was complete. All that remained was a hollow shell. Houses with no roofs, walls crumbling under the onslaught of ivy and other insidious climbers, which had torn away at the bricks and mortar leaving nothing but crumbled remains. In the distance there was a mournful ringing of the long forgotten church bell, the wind now it's only reason for chiming its discordant noise. Buffy shivered and wrapped her thin arms around her body, trying to ward off the creeping sense of horror and sadness the place evoked within her.

"Where are we?" Buffy stared at the ivy covered building she was in front of. All of the structures were in a similar state of dilapidated disrepair and covered in foliage, some even had trees growing out of their eaves. "I don't get it. Where are all the people? How come a whole village is deserted?" A true city girl through and through, the silence of the place was getting to her and then some.

Spike frowned and sniffed the air. There was no trace of the Chaos adept. He looked around at the weed infested street; in the distance he could hear a door creaking as it swung on its hinges. The place was deader than he was. All it needed was a ball of tumble weed and it would be a bonafide ghost town. "Not a clue. Come on, let's try and find the market place. There might be some sort of sign or something." He headed off down one of the side streets, striding past the empty houses. Their black windows stared back at him, empty of light or life. The place was starting to give him the creeps.

"Are you sure we're in Ireland?" Buffy asked as she trotted along behind him. Her senses on alert, the whole place was giving her a major wiggins. "We could be in an alternate dimension, one where there are no people and we are all alone for ever!" Her voice rose with a budding hysteria. Spike glanced over at her . One steely look of his baby blues knocked away any idea of her having a massive panic attack. Buffy gulped and then forced down her fears with a Slayer-like determination. "We must be in Ireland right?" she asked meekly.

"Not a frigging clue, Slayer. Bloody well should be. All I wanted was a nice pint of Guinness and instead no, I have to end up here in the village of the ruddy well empty! Without a whiff of a good drink..." Spike turned a corner down the narrow street and sighed with relief; his instincts had been right. He stepped into the abandoned Market Square. In the centre stood a well. Part of its circular wall was missing, as if it had been kicked in. The remains of the bucket lay on the cobbles and the rope it had been attached to swung in the cool night air. The peroxided vampire scanned the area and then his eye alighted on the village hall and the carved foundation stone. "Over there," he pointed and headed off without a backward glance, his temper barely contained as a slow sickening realisation was beginning to dawn.

Buffy paused, looking around curiously at the quaint cobblestone square, the utter silence and desolation starting to get to her. When Willow had said Ireland she had thought maybe she'd see some nice fields, visit a pub and hear some quaint Irish band playing fiddles or something.

Not this.

Totally gloomy weirdsville with Spike behaving like a freak, being nice to her all the time and now with the helping! And Ethan? Well he was totally absent. Something made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end and she reached behind her to the stake tucked into her waistband. Her fingers slid around its familiar form and she pulled it out. Buffy sighed, drawing strength from her weapon; it reassured her with its familiar weight. The wood grain was smooth under her fingertips and instantly calmed her.

"Balls." Spike swore under his breath and then shot around and stormed over to Buffy. "Come on, Slayer. Let's get moving." He mentally cursed whatever gods were watching over him and the Slayer. This was the last place in the universe he had ever expected to visit and to have the Slayer with him for it was just beyond a joke. He was not in the mood for the Sturm un drangst that this place would evoke in the slender blonde girl he was towing along behind him. He carried on walking, swearing under his breath while his pale fingers gently clasped Buffy's wrist, his thumb consciously stroking the fragile skin on the underside.

"What? Wait! What did the stone say?" Buffy let herself be hustled along by the obviously annoyed vamp; she was freaked by his reaction, but all too happy to leave the creepy-assed ghostie village of the damned. His boot heels hammered a sharp staccato as he headed off down another side street, towing her along in his wake. In his eagerness to get out of the desolate place, Spike missed the shadow in the upstairs window of the Village hall who had been watching their every move.

They twisted and turned as they followed the almost claustrophobic alley for a few minutes before they burst out into the tree-filled cemetery of the church that ran along the side of the village. Spike sniffed the air; there were no signs of recently burials, and he couldn't scent newly rotting corpses anywhere. Just the familiar smells of soil and trees.

"Come on, we need to get to that git and go home." Spike's already chilled body had dropped several degrees in temperature as he read the name of the village. He'd never been there, but he'd heard enough about it from Darla once she got a drink in her and wanted to reminisce about the good old days. It was the last sodding place the Slayer should be, not now, not when she had a mission. The distraction of this place would be too much and he didn't have time to put another girl back together.

"Okay, enough with the taciturn guy." Buffy yanked her hand free and then stumbled backwards. "Crap!" she squealed and fell onto a grave. She rolled over and pushed herself up. "God, déjà vu much?" she grumbled. The amount of times she had fallen onto freshly turned plots or into open graves in her career as a Slayer, she thought she'd be used to it. But no, instead she had that knee jerk hair raising on the back of her neck, cos falling on dead bodies equalled a massive eww in her book.

Spike growled. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one; the flare of his lighter flickered and the glow from the flame illuminated the planes of his face, shadows casting his high cheekbones in relief. He took a deep pull on the cigarette, letting the nicotine calm him. The name of the village of the damned was all too familiar. He wanted to get out of here before the Slayer found out. ‘Hang about, she's stopped bitching and moaning.' Spike looked down at the frozen form of the slim girl. "Oh for God's sake, what are the bloody odds of that!" he bellowed and threw away his half smoked cigarette before he reached down and yanked Buffy's unresisting form to her feet.

"Is that him? Is it? Oh my God, is it?" Buffy wriggled against Spike's hands, her attempt to get free inadvertently triggering the chip. He lurched backwards, digging the heel of his hand into his temple. She sank back down onto her knees and raised a trembling hand to the weather worn letters etched into the tombstone. Her index finger traced the name over and over as she tried not to burst into tears. Her hand resting on the damp grass covering the century old grave clenched as she tried not to scream out, her fingers digging past the blades of grass and into the peaty Irish soil, as if she were trying to reach his coffin. Deep down she knew that Angel was not in the ground, he was somewhere in LA, but the entire situation was just wigging her out on a level beyond she was accustomed. And the icing on the cake for this magical mystery tour was the whole ending up in his birthplace and now sitting on his abandoned grave.

Spike squatted down next to her and gently took her frozen hand in his. "Come on, pet. Let's get you out of here. Enough with the ghosts of the past, let Spike take care of you, yeah?" he crooned in a reassuring voice. The same voice he'd used to calm down Dru after one of her episodes. It seemed to have a soothing effect on the stunned blonde huddled at his feet. Her fingers still ran over the ancient words carved into the worn granite; wind and rain had softened the edges of the tombstone and blurred the lettering to the point that some of it was undecipherable. But she could make out that he had been the beloved brother of Cathy.

"I guess he ate her right?" Her voice sounded thin and reedy as she laid her hand over the lettering, offering a silent prayer for the long dead girl.

Before Spike could even begin to form a reply to her sad query, they both heard a faint sound. Their heads snapped around and they leapt fluidly to their feet.

"It came from over there." Buffy pointed to the far end of the church yard. In unison the two of them shot off into the night, chasing the faint sound of fading footsteps that were heading away from the village and back the way they had come.

Leaving behind them the remains of the crumbling empty grave of a man who had a massive impact on both their lives.

~~~~~~~~

Ethan grabbed his side as he ran.

"I am getting too old for this!" he gasped to himself as his legs pumped erratically his frantic eyes scanned behind him searching for his pursuers. Ethan dodged and reeled between the trees and then leapt over the small stone wall that was the boundary of the cemetery and the open fields. He landed heavily and then straightened; glancing over his shoulder, he could see the bright blond hair of both his pursuers in the moonlight. Briefly Ethan wondered who the pale black clad man was, and then he dismissed the man as insignificant. The Slayer was his main problem. Taking a deep breath, he began to run.

Minutes passed, the silence of the valley broken only by his panting breath and the occasional shout to stop from his pursuers.

The stitch was causing him to double over in pain; but he had to get back to the cave. The Chaos mage slipped on the dew damp grass and crashed to his knees and he bit his lip to stifle the scream of agony.

"Bloody Slayer, how the hell did she find me?" he grumbled as he hoisted himself back onto his feet and started running again. Ethan had hoped to spend a few hours sleeping in the old village while he gathered his energy from the focal point for chaos worship. He needed more power to move onto the next point in his journey. But it had been interrupted; all he could do was pray to Janus that there was enough juice in the coin and combined with his power it would get him on his way. He needed to put some distance between himself and Ripper's determined slayer. He had experienced her wrath on several occasions and wasn't eager to taste his own blood again.

Ethan had bargained on at least four hours or so, allowing time for him to recuperate and for the innate power in the caves and the idol to infuse into his gold coin, his ticket out of there. He had picked the spots carefully, each known for its power and connections with Chaos. All that the sharp-faced man had needed to recover from the massive amounts of energy he had to expend to get to where he was heading. It wasn't as if he could hop on a plane and fly there, not with the customs men wanting to check all baggage. He wouldn't be able to explain away the Muo-Ping glowing away in his hand luggage. Ethan giggled at the imagined conversation of him trying to explain that away.

Ethan stumbled over a rock, slid down a slope and splashed through an icy cold stream. He bit his lower lip to stop himself from crying out in pain. Instead he let his body slither down the incline. If he slowed down the Ripper's little girl would catch up with him and then it would be all over. Wolfram and Hart would have his guts for garters. He had to complete this job otherwise Lilah had promised to hand him back to the US government, and there was no way he was going back to that hellhole. If it meant a small delivery job to get him free of there, then so be it.

It had been rather amusing when Lilah had briefed him about his job.

Talk about sins of the grandmothers coming back to roost on her grandson's shoulders.

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Chapter 6: Chapter 6

She put her head down and ran, twisting and ducking down the narrow passage. She could hear Spike swearing in the distance and gritted her teeth, put on a final burst of speed, only to barrel right into Spike and send him flying. They landed in a sprawl of legs and arms, her face buried in his neck. All her brain could registered was that he smelled good. Her brain shut down as his arms reflexively came around her back, steadying her against his lean form. ‘Oh, nice.' She pressed her hands against his muscled chest for a brief tantalising moment and then reluctantly let them slide onto the ground.

Suddenly Buffy's lust clouded senses cleared, and she heard the sound of water dripping and mocking laughter that echoed around the crystalline cave.

"Oh my poor unobservant dear, you must have walked straight past your precious Giles's soul when you arrived. Did you honestly think I would lug around something so valuable around? My superiors have plans for it?" Ethan taunted as he hefted his bag. "Oh well, better luck next time. Or hopefully not." He shot them a triumphant smile as he reached for the coin. It lay, gleaming brightly, in the Formorian idol's hand.

The two blonds disentangled themselves and pulled each other to their feet.

"Ethan!" Buffy leapt forward to get to the bane of her watcher's life. "So help me!" she exclaimed.

"Too late," and like the proverbial Cheshire cat he began to vanish. The swirling clouds built up and then with an ear-popping crack he was gone. The coin clattered to the ground as Buffy skidded to a halt in the same spot Ethan had just vacated.

"Noooooo!" She fell to her knees, her hands scrabbling on the hard stone, her fingers blackened by the soot that was all that marked his passage.

"Bollocks, you slimy git!" Spike bellowed angrily as he lunged forward, his arms grasping at air

Spike came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off angrily and picked up the coin. Her free hand dashed tears from her cheeks as she screamed out her frustration. The entire trip was a nightmare... Giles going all freaky, parts of souls being ripped out, ending up in Angel's village of the damned and now this failure.

"Why isn't it working for me?" she cried out, her voice filled with frustration and burgeoning tears. Buffy nearly threw it away, but then a pale cool hand wrapped around her fisted fingers and urged her hand down.

"Dunno, slayer." He slowly peeled her fingers open; his thumb lingering in the palm of her soot-stained hand as he plucked the coin from her hand and examined it. It had an image of a snake of some sorts etched into on side, the same compass symbol as on the first coin, on the other side and what looked like runes carved all over it and running around the edge. He frowned at the symbols and then flipped the coin along his knuckles as he pondered their meaning. "It's got different scribbles on it."

"What?" Buffy squinted at the rapidly moving piece of gold. "Let me see." She held her hand out and raised a demanding brow. Spike flipped the coin in the air a few times and then when she stomped her foot he handed it to her with a wicked grin.

"I'll go get your pack," he offered, and then headed off down the way they had run, deftly dodging the rock formations as he went.

"Uh, yeah - thanks," Buffy replied absently as she traced the small image of the serpent. Her shoulders slumped when she realised they were stuck in a cave in the middle of nowheresville without anyway of getting home.

"We're so screwed!" She sighed mournfully and placed the coin back in the goat headed idol, before flopping to the ground and covering her eyes.

She had let Giles down.

~~~~~~~~~

"Bloody lightweights!" Ripper shouted after the three girls as they ran from the apartment and took refuge in the courtyard. "Running off like scared little girls! I only asked if you two would let me watch." His voiced was filled with wicked glee. The last few hours had been entertaining. He had gotten progressively more outrageous with his comments, trying to see how far he could push his three captors. The two wiccans had been easy enough to shock though; the other was more than his match though. He liked her there was an open frankness combined with a naivety that just made his mouth water and his cock harden.

Willow leant tiredly against Tara, her red hair tangling with blonde as she vented her frustrations. "He is just so pissy and innuendo-ey all the time!" She sighed happily as Tara stroked her hair, soothing her with a touch. "And can I add gross to the watching of us, as if! Giles will be so upset when he is back in control."

Anya cocked her head to the left as she examined her fingernails and then rolled her eyes plopping down on the raised edge of the small fountain she stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles. "Well we are keeping him confined in that pokey place with little in the form of entertainment - maybe we should rent him some porn or something to keep him occupied? Any time Xander is bored I pop in something a bit raunchy and it cheers him up immediately."

Willow pulled a face at the mental image of her best friend watching porn and then gagged at the thought of her former crush Giles, also watching something like that. She shuddered. "Ewww," Willow whispered.

"I don't think that would work," Tara deflected Anya away from that idea with a gentle shake of her head.

Willow cringed at the sound of breaking glass, "Okay, we need to go do some research for Buffy. You know to do the whole spell to get Giles all nice and watchery again and less the rebel without a clue." With that both wiccans beat a hasty retreat, waving their hands as they ran off, leaving a very bemused ex-demoness behind them to baby sit the now cursing man.

Anya eyed the closed door resignedly.

"Cowards and deserters," she called after Willow and Tara. "I think that we maybe could have kept him asleep for the whole time, but no, Tara said it was not fair. And to be honest I do not think that any of us were up for changing adult diapers."

Her high heels clicked on the terracotta tile as she strode towards the apartment. Squaring her shoulders she put a hand on the closed door, cringing slightly at the Seventies music now blaring out of the usually calm home of the slayer's watcher.

"So, Ripper, now they've gone, how about playing some poker or something?" She pushed open the door and stepped into the proverbial lions den. "We could play for money."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm not going into it!" Spike exclaimed as he paced back and forth in front of Buffy. She had been wheedling at him to spill for the last four hours. She was numb from the memory of Angel's mortal name inscribed on a marker above his empty grave, and the abandoned village, but wanted to know. It was like all those rubberneckers who had to stare at car crashes...she had to hear it.

She needed to know.

Anything to fill in the hours as they waited for some inspiration about how to get to Ethan, if it meant hearing about Angel's life then she could cope or so she hoped. Buffy was becoming a realist when it concerned her ex. He was not at all as advertised. 'One romantic hero with the cute looks and the undying true love'. He had to undying bit covered as with the looks, but he sure as hell wasn't a romantic.

‘Who the hell dumped the so-called love of his life in a sewer before Prom? And then who the hell swanned off to LA without aforementioned true love, all because it was becoming too hard! And cute looks? Pshaw, she was starting to learn to appreciate a man with a leaner body and sharper features, ack where the hell did that come from?'

Buffy leant back against, Herbert, well that was the name she had given the large statue and gave Spike her best pout, mentally suppressing anything else droolsome relating to cute guys with high cheekbones. She was so going to hell...

He spotted it and shook his head. "No. It's bloody sods law we ended up here of all places. Slap bang in the midst of the poof's past in all its unsavoury splendour and now you want me to start picking at that scab for you?" He whirled to face her. "Thought you'd put the nonce behind you?" He jabbed an accusatory finger at her.

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a resigned growl. He looked over at her, his blue eyes filled with memories, one hand rose automatically and his thumb traced the scar embedded in his heavy brow.

"You won't like what I have to tell you," Spike warned her.

"But..."

"Demanding wench!" He kicked the crystalline wall, purple shards flying in all directions from the impact and then stalked back over to where Buffy sat, her recovered backpack next to her as she stared up at him with big solemn mossy green eyes. "You know sometimes its best not to get what you wish for pet."

"I just want to know..."

"Stop bloody nagging." Spike humphed at her, pinning her with a steely gaze and then flopped down onto the ground beside her, an image of resignation dressed in black leather and punk attitude. He rested his head on one hand and began to talk. His deep voice filled the cave with its whisky honed roughness as he finally revealed to the slayer Angelus's first steps into the killing fields.

"Now remember, most of this I got from a Saki sodden Darla just after Peaches had ditched her scrawny backside in China... she was right bent out of shape after the hulking git refused to be a good puppy." Spike lit a cigarette and puffed at it; rolling lithely onto his back, he folded his hands behind his head and blew smoke rings at the ceiling. "Dru and I woke up the next morning to find the old slapper long gone," he recalled absently.

"Did the ponce fill you in on his human years?" Spike asked curiously. When Buffy shook her head, he chuckled. "Of course he didn't. The drunken waster look didn't really add to the heroic mould he was aiming for with the bright eyed ingénue he was intent on seducing with his broodiness."

"Err..." Buffy failed to find a single reply that was worth voicing. Part of her wanted to smack Spike for ripping off the final Angel-shaped scales from her eyes, but the other stronger part was insisting on knowing more. She could tell that Spike wasn't enjoying this, and that in some way, made it easier to hear. It also surprised the hell outta her. Buffy figured that Spike would have been delighting in telling her all of Angel's nasty little secrets - hell even the not so little ones.

"Right, back to Liam. He drank his father's wealth away in heavy bouts of indulgence. Whored around, probably had a nasty bout of the clap by the time Grandmum got her syphilitic fangs into the boy."

"Ewww," Buffy wrinkled her nose at Spike.

"No worries, pet. None of that carries on over when you get vamped. I should know what with her TB clearing right up..." he added quietly. "Darla vamped the piss head and once he got up from his dirt nap they had a party back there." He jerked his thumb in the general direction of the village.

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, with a hint of trepidation in her voice.

"He offed his family first, the littlest one first, then the mum." Spike spoke steadily, not pulling any punches, if she wanted to know then so be it.

"I think Darla mentioned he kept daddy dearest to last. Think there were some issues there," Spike added. "Then the two of them systematically hunted all the villagers down and ate them - well some of them, others they just toyed with until they stopped bleeding. From all accounts the bloodbath lasted a good few weeks. Suppose it was the beginning of their taste for playing with their food." Spike hypothesised to a pale faced slayer. "Some of the poor sods clicked to the no entry rule, but Darla and Peaches eventually starved them out and finished them off."

"God..." Buffy whispered. "A whole village?" So caught up in Spike's grim tale she failed to notice the pulsing light emitting from the coin.

"Yeah, from what Darla said the local magistrate and the Bishop came down a few months later after reports of the whole place emptying out. The rotting remains were a grisly sight, from all accounts. Darla heard later that they pitched all the remains down the well, salted the earth and declared the place off bounds."

Buffy swallowed the bile that had surged up her throat and rubbed her clammy hands together. Spike rolled his head to look at her, compassion filling his eyes at the huddled sight of her slim body.

"Told you it wasn't pretty."

"I know. But Spike, at least with you I know you will always tell me the truth, whether it's sunshine and roses or fangs and dripping blood." She reached over and placed a hand on his arm. "Thank you."

Spike watched her through shuttered eyes, not sure what to do or say. Usually by now she would've smacked him good and hard, left him bleeding on the ground as she flounced off in righteous indignation. It had to be a first, a slayer thanking him. And, even more amazing it was Buffy.

"What the hell is that noise?" Buffy stood as a low humming nose began to fill the cave. "Spike, look!" she shrieked, pointing at the etched coin that still rested in the idol's hand. A pulsing glow illuminating her surprised and hopeful face.

"Time to get out of here, maybe?" he asked as he rose and shouldered his and her pack.

Buffy turned a hopeful face to him. "Here's hoping." She reached out and grabbed his hand; with her other the small blonde grasped the coin. "I swear Ethan will not know what hit him if this gets us to what ever rock he's crawled under now."

Spike let her take his hand. "In for a penny I guess," he joked as the now familiar storm clouds gathered over their heads, and tiny bolts of lightening wreathed the clouds. With a popping sound they vanished.

Leaving the once again forgotten idol of the Formorian gods to his solitary vigil in the crystalline caves. In the shadows, waiting. Waiting for the next chaos worshipper to appear at his carved feet.

~~~~~~~~

"I truly don't understand this game." Anya shimmied off her skirt without rising from her seat and tossed it on the floor next to her chair. "How does one win money by playing strip poker?" Her slim shoulders lifted as she shrugged at the older man with his rumpled hair, who sat across from her wearing a sock on his left foot and a pair of boxers. He reached for his glass of whisky and took a long drink. His eyes riveted to the nubile young woman sitting opposite him in her bra and stockings. He had been delighted when she had announced it wasn't fair as she was at a disadvantage due to going commando.

Who was he to complain?

He stretched over, snagged the almost empty bottle and poured her another shot.

"When we finish I'll fill you in sweetness," Ripper gave her a devastatingly wicked smile and ran his hand down his bare chest and let his fingers hook into the top of his boxers. His eyes glittered in anticipation of her removing her bra next. He only had two aces ferreted away in the waistband of his boxers and was getting ready to use them in the next hand. He could just about make out the dusky pink colour of her nipples as they pressed against the delicate fabric. Ripper shifted slightly in his seat, trying to get comfortable, as his cock firmed up even more.

"Well, okay then," Anya shuffled the cards and began to deal. As she leant over her breasts pressed against the pink lace bra encasing them. The soft flesh moved enticingly as Ripper eyed them and licked his lips. He was in heaven, a bit of Zeppelin playing in the background, a decent single malt to hand and a half naked beauty playing poker with him. What more could a man ask for? His mind filled with images of the two of them shagging themselves to death and he failed to notice the front door swing open or the shocked gasp emanating from their silent observer at the tableau of decadence.

"Anya!" Tara's shocked voice from the doorway spelled the end to an entertaining afternoon for Ripper. "Put on your clothes! What are you doing?"

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Chapter 7: Chapter 7

There was a crackle, then a bang, and the two travellers appeared in a swirling cloud of magicks. Small bolts of lighting fired around the forms creating a halo of St. Elmos fire around the two travellers.

Buffy sank to her knees and braced herself on the cool, slick glass floor that they had landed on. She could hear Spike cussing a blue streak behind her. Turning her head, she watched as he fell backwards as if in slow motion. There was a clatter of wood on metal, breaking the silence of the sterile room as he staggered the wrong way and hit some sort of carved oak altar. Neither of them heard the small clinking sound as Ethan's coin fell to the ground and rolled against the steel wall.

"Sodding magic!" Spike exclaimed, bracing himself on the steel wall as he tried to get his bearings. "Not going to toss your cookies again are you, Slayer?" Spike tilted his head at Buffy and then reached down to pull her onto her feet. She handed the now redundant Formorian coin to him and watched quietly as he tucked it away with the first one. Her nausea dissipated quickly as her body adjusted to the sensations the teleportation spell created within her.

"Gross much?" Buffy rubbed her stomach and figured the only way she was going to lose her lunch was if she had eaten something in the past few hours. Her stomach gurgled in agreement. She flushed red at Spike's smirk and pointed look at her abdomen. "I'm fine. No puking, just hungry." Pouting at Spike and before squinting around the brightly lit room, Buffy asked, "Where the hell are we?"

"No sodding idea. Though..." He paused, sniffing the air. "That Ethan git was in here a while ago. His scent is faint, but it's still here."

Buffy sighed in relief. "At least we're still on his track." She rubbed her hands together nervously and looked around the room. "This place is just so shiny and clean."

"Bit different from the peat bog we just trudged through. Wonder what he's doing here?"

Buffy shook her head. The funky cave with the goaty god made sense in a Hellmouthy kinda way. But clean and bright - with no weird ass idols around - nope, wasn't making an iota of sense to her. "No idea, but we need to find some way to get outta here and find Ethan."

In unison, the two travellers began to examine the large high-ceilinged room. It was a perfect square, the walls and ceiling constructed from brightly polished steel, and the floor was one large sheet of under-lit reinforced glass. Buffy picked up the altar and returned it to its original position; she ran her fingers over the carvings, trying to determine their origin.

"What are these?" She peered over her shoulder at Spike. He came over and squatted down beside to her.
They were familiar, he'd come across these type of symbols before. "Runes by the look of it." Spike frowned down at the glass floor; he could have sworn for a second he saw something move in the light.

"Runes? Damn, where is Tara when we need her?" Buffy straightened, adjusted her backpack and then looked around the room again. Spike glanced over at her in surprise; he wondered if she had noticed that Red wasn't the first name to cross her lips when something mystical cropped up. A frown creased her forehead. "Wait! What's wrong with this picture?"

Spike sank down next to the altar, dropping his pack next to him as he leant against the wall. "You mean apart from us doing impersonations of sardines in a shiny tin can?"

"Spike, there's no coin, so that means this is his last stop." Hope blossomed inside her. Could this be the end of it? They could find Ethan and go home without chasing around villages of the damned, or anymore uber modern steel boxes. He was really bugging the hell out of her and she wanted Giles back ASAP, not freaky-assed Ripper who knew her mom too well. She shuddered at the thought before stuffing it firmly back into a box in the back of her mind and slamming the lid shut.

He scanned the sterile room again, nodding slowly as he rifled through one of the side pockets of his pack. He needed a smoke. When his fingers brushed against a pack he pulled it out, then stared in horror at the nicotine gum. "What the bloody..." He pulled out more packs of the generic brands of anti-smoking gum and threw them on the glass floor. "No!" Spike exclaimed in horror. "Oh god, no!" He rapidly emptied the pack onto the ground, his hands scrabbling through his clothes and weapons. "I don't believe it," he practically sobbed.

"What? What's wrong? Did Anya forget to pack your security blanket or something?" Buffy teased.

"Sodding bint nicked all my fags and put these in their place." Spike held one of the Nicorette packs between his thumb and forefinger, looking at it as if it were as much use to him as a pack of condoms with crosses printed on them. Unless they were the flavoured kind with the little...but he was determined not to be distracted.

"Oh." Buffy took it. She shook her head at the horrified vampire. "It must've been Tara, I saw here putting some stuff in there for you... but I had no clue, I swear." She failed to smother her giggles and snorted with laughter at the woebegone look on the forlorn vamp's face. "Maybe she thought she was helping my lungs?"

Spike growled at her as he ripped open the pack of gum and stuffed a couple of tablets into his mouth, chewing on them furiously.

"I'm sorry. Next chance I get I'll get you some, okay?" Buffy offered. Anything to stop him from sulking, even if it meant secondary smoke.

Spike grunted his thanks and began to stuff his belongings back into his pack.

"Let me help." Buffy knelt down and folded some shirts before handing them to Spike. Working silently, they made swift work of the mess. Buffy reached for the brass knuckles, which had slid to the edge of the room. "Damn..." Her face fell at the gleam of gold that was revealed.

"What?" Spike glanced up from buckling the straps down on his backpack. His shoulder's slumped at the sight of the small coin "Well that tosses your theory out of the metaphorical window."

Buffy handed the weapon to Spike and picked up the coin that had been hidden beneath it, studying it closely. "It's not working? Do you think Ethan's already jumped?"

He shook his head. "No idea." Spike took the oval coin from her and examined the etching. "An apple? What the bloody hell?" He stared at the image with a deep frown creasing his brow. Turning the coin over he searched for more clues, and then groaned at the familiar sight of an alphabet he had learned as a child. "Balls."

"What?" She glanced over at the fuming vampire. "Do you recognise anything?"

Spike nodded as he slammed the coin down on the oak altar. The coin sank into the wood a little, before popping out, leaving a tiny circular indentation. It began to glow slightly as it pulled power from the focal point of the chaos magicks.

"The symbols are Greek," he answered shortly. "So I guess if we don't catch the git this time we're heading there."

"Well, crap." Buffy stood up, stomping across the room to the far side and slamming her fist into the wall. Before either of them could say a word the entire wall began to move.

With a faint hiss of air, it slid away to reveal a nondescript corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ripper rolled onto his side and peered through the banister rails down into the room below. He had headed for safe ground after the blonde Wicca had caught them having a bit of fun playing cards. Yawning, Ripper stretched out on the bed as he watched the blonde berate the unrepentant brunette for letting her guard down.

He'd been so close to getting the talisman that would release his magicks. When the cheeky bint had pulled off her shirt, revealing a magnificent pair of breasts, it had fallen out of one of the pockets and landed near his foot. Until that moment he had not been able to work out how they had bound his magic. But the sight of the embroidered purse had triggered some long forgotten memory. He realised that the witches had caught him in a Devorian binding spell; the magic still there within him but just stuck behind a mystical barrier.

"Anya, you really were exposing yourself to some risk by encouraging that man. What would Xander say?"
Anya shrugged mutinously. "We were only having a bit of fun." A small pang of discomfort filled her at the mention of her forgotten boyfriend, but the image of Ripper's wickedly twinkling eyes repressed it.

Tara shook her head and stared at the girl. Her sharp eyes missed nothing. There was an air of hidden excitement around Xander's slightly odd girlfriend. She looked over her shoulder up the stairs. Brushing her heavy blonde hair from her face, Tara stared calmly up at Ripper's smirking countenance. They were very similar. Tara could sense an air of suppressed wickedness and charm to both of them that was so engaging.

She frowned, worry lines creasing her forehead.

The vibes between them were almost palpable, it vibrated across their auras. Tara stared at Mr Giles, and then Anya. It had more of a presence than anything between Anya and Xander, which confused her.

She didn't know what to do.

Was it up to her to interfere?

She had heard stories of how - at some point - Willow, Xander and Buffy had all interfered with each other's friendships and relationships in the past. The utter betrayal of Xander, when he hadn't explained to Buffy that Willow was re-souling Angelus, ranked very highly on her wrong list. The three core Scoobies were probably too interdependent on each other.

Taking a calming breath, she decided it was not her place to say, or do, anything. They were adults, both of them, and she wasn't their mother. As long as there was no mischief, and Anya was honest with Xander when he came back then she wouldn't interfere. Her decision made, Tara released a deep breath - one she hadn't realised she was holding.

"It's not like I shagged her upside down and half way to happy land, did I?" Ripper teased, and then stood to lean nonchalantly on the rails. "The bird was up for it, and it's not like she isn't a card sharp. I was practically in the nip."

Tara suppressed a small smile at that.

"Well, Ripper, you should not underestimate your opponents, really! As if I have not played poker before. For goodness sake, I knew the muse who inspired the first game." She nodded at him and then twirled the pouch around and round on her index finger. "And if you think I would be naïve enough to let you get your hands on the real thing...then you must think I came down in the last rainfall." She flicked her wrist and let the pouch sail up through the air towards him. It hit Ripper in the chest; his hand rose automatically and caught the decoy.

Admiration filled his eyes as he looked down at the small bag and its contents. "Clever girl."

"Why, thank you." Anya shot a small smile at Ripper, and then she ducked her head, examining her hands when she caught Tara watching their exchange.

"I came to give you this." Tara headed to the front door; she picked up the bags of food and put them on the breakfast bar. "I need to get back to class. Can I trust you two to behave?" she asked worriedly. "Or do I need to do some sort of anti-lust spell?" she enquired, unconsciously choosing the same avenue that her girlfriend had picked a few years ago.

Anya straightened her skirt, looked up at Ripper and shrugged noncommittally. Unlike the two others, she could accept that someone else inhabited Giles' body, and it wasn't the Slayer's watcher.
No, this was an altogether more interesting man.

It was only after Tara had settled down with Willow to go over the spell she had created-to return Giles' soul to his body-that the blonde Wiccan realised that neither Ripper nor Anya had said they would behave.

"Oh goddess..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy peered through the door, looking up and down the corridor anxiously. "It's clear."

Spike stepped past carrying both their packs. Stopping, he sniffed the air. "He's been through here a while back."
Hope filled Buffy, maybe this time they were closer to catching Ethan.

She was starting to panic over the time delay between jumps; Ethan always had a head start on them. The worried girl stepped out onto the pale grey carpeted floor and followed Spike. There was nothing on the walls to give them an idea as to where they were. All she could think of was at least there was no mud, and no freaking abandoned villages of the damned. Caught up in her thoughts, the diminutive blonde walked straight into Spike's stationary form, her face mashing into black leather.

"Sorry, love." Spike glanced down and a genuine smile crossed his handsome features as he watched Buffy rub her nose. He pulled open the door to his left; it was the first that they had come across in the long corridor and behind it they discovered janitorial supplies. "We can stash our bits and bobs in here." He tossed the two backpacks in the room and then let the door snick shut. His strong pale skinned hand reached for the door handle and yanked it off. "Best be safe." He tucked it into a pocket of his duster and headed off with Buffy on his heels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"God! Enough with the sudden stoppage!" Buffy grumbled. She shoved Spike aside and slipped past him rubbing her nose again. "How many times do I have to mash my face into your back?" She trailed off as she saw the problem. "Oh..."

"Yeah, oh. Looks like its end of the line for me, Slayer." He stepped cautiously back and peered into the sunlit foyer. A pale grey marble floor extended for about forty feet, the walls covered in the same expensive marble, all etched with the same runes that they had found on the oak altar. The walls arched upwards into a barrel vault ceiling, the entire space about three stories high. There were long clear glass columns running up the sides of the walls in all four corners and running along the arches in the ceiling. But the main problem for Spike was the walls of glass running down two sides. Beyond the windows, all that could be seen was snow covered gardens and fir trees running along the boundaries in the distance.

Buffy scanned the spacious room, her eyes spotting the reception desk and above it the gold words -L.O.K.I Enterprises - were fixed to the wall. "Oh look. A phone. We can call Wills." She made to move forward and Spike grabbed her hand.

"Wait!" he admonished. Then he swore loudly and yanked his hand back. "Hang about." Spike stared at his unblemished skin.
Buffy skidded to a halt and looked back at Spike; she focused on him and not the tingling sensation in her fingers from the brief contact of their flesh. "What?" she asked impatiently.

Spike took a deep unnecessary breath. "Watch." He thrust his hand into the pale sunlight and wriggled his fingers. "Look, no flames." A manic grin split his face as he looked out of the windows into broad daylight.

Buffy frowned in confusion; she reached over and ran her fingers lightly over the back of Spike's hand. With her head bowed she didn't notice the sudden dilation of his pupils, or hear the faint gasp of surprise from the vampire. "I don't get it. What happened to you?" Unnoticed by either of them, there was a flash of movement in one of the columns.

"Dunno." He shrugged and then stepped into the marble lined foyer. He held his arms up and turned slowly in a circle. "But its ruddy brilliant, haven't seen the light of day since...well, you know when." Both of them nodded, remembering their fight in the quad in broad daylight. Spike then bounced up and down. "It's a bloody miracle." He shot past Buffy and headed to the tall windows, pressing his hands against the cold glass as he looked out into the day. "It's so beautiful, I had forgotten."
He cringed at his inner William slipping out and cleared his throat gruffly.

Buffy watched the enthralled vampire silently. His childlike glee was something that she had never expected to witness, but she liked it. Grinning at his back, she headed for the reception desk that ran the length of the wall. Slipping around the back, she headed for the work area and absently ran her hands along the highly polished oak counter. Buffy sat down in the high backed leather chair and reached for the phone. "Spike, any idea how to work one of these?" She pressed at various buttons trying to get an outside line. Inadvertently her fingers pressed a small black button and a row of small security screens flickered to life. "Whoa."

Spike tore himself away from the glass and vaulted over the desk, landing lightly on his feet next to Buffy. He squinted at all the screens. "Looks like we're in some office building." He reached over her shoulder and grabbed a handful of business cards and examined them. "In sodding Norway! God, can't that effing git find more interesting places to drag us to? First we end up in my bog trotting Irish grandgit's spawning ground and now Norway? What's sodding wrong with London or Paris? Nooo, we have to end up in the middle of a winter wonderland that Slartybartfast designed crinkly bits for..."

"What?" Buffy squeaked. "Norway? Crinkly bits? Has the sun got to you or something? And what's wrong with Norway? Not all of us have done the ‘all you can eat world tour.'" She reached over and pulled out a sheet of paper from under a folder next to her hand. It was an expensive piece of paper with an embossed letterhead on the top. "L.O.K.I. Enterprises?" She looked up at Spike, her green eyes sparkling with questions. "What the hell do crinkly bits have to do with enterprise?"

"Have you never cracked a spine in your life?" Spiked asked as he fiddled with the phone system.

"Huh? Ewww." Buffy scrunched up her face at the mental image of broken backs.

"Read a book!"

"Oh...yes, I have." She smacked him on the elbow and rolled her eyes at him.

Spike pressed a few buttons then handed the receiver to Buffy. "Here, I'm going out for a breather and to the check the area out. Something's off. Why is it three foot deep with snow in the middle of summer?" He stomped off, muttering under his breath about some guy called Douglas Adams and how she wouldn't recognise a classic if it bit her in the arse.

"Wills? Hey, Spike made the phone work! Hi!" Buffy began to chatter excitedly with her friend, her eyes watching every move the vamp made. "We went to Ireland, which was kinda weird. But now we're in Norway!" She paused for a moment listening to Willow's excited response. "I know, it's all kinds of cool."

Spike pulled at the doors. "Sodding locked of course." He turned to Buffy. "Oi, is there a release or something?" Buffy carried on talking to a sleepy Willow and searched the area. She shook her head in defeat.

"Figures, probably locked in for the duration." He patted his pockets, searching hopefully for a fag but to no avail. Sauntering back to reception, he joined Buffy and listened to her fill in Red on what had happened so far.

She was taking notes on a sheet of paper, her face screwed up in adorable concentration. "Okay, so chaos focal points for jumpage. We're not gonna grow horns or anything are we?" Spike stared in horror at the slayer as if she had sprouted said horns instantaneously. "Oh, you have the spell worked out for getting Giles all fixed." She carried on oblivious to the snickering from Spike. "A fax number? Why? Have you got a fax in the dorm? Oh on the computer. That's all kinds of neat. How do I find a number? Oh thanks, Spike." She rattled off the number to the machine sitting a little further down the desk. Within seconds it began to print off a sheet of paper filled with Tara's large looping handwriting. "Got it. So this will send Giles back and also bring us along for the ride?" Buffy sighed in relief as Willow replied. "So all we do is get that bottle thingie off Ethan, open it, Spike does the spell cos me and the Latin are so unmixy. And we all know he can make with the magic." She arched a disapproving brow at Spike. "Can we say Du Lac cross, Spike?"

"Yeah...yeah. Pet, I can, as you so eloquently put it, make with the magic. I just choose not to abuse it or rely on it. I've always been a fists and fangs vamp and not into the mojo unless it was really essential."

Buffy opened her mouth to retaliate but was interrupted by Spike holding up a hand. His eyes flickered gold as his face shifted to vampire prominance. Tilting his head he growled slightly in the back of this throat. Buffy closed her eyes and tried to focus on whatever he was hearing.

"Shhh, Willow. Spike's heard something," she hissed into the receiver. Her mind filled with all sorts of disastrous possibilities, the least terrifying being that she and Spike were arrested for trespassing and ranging up to hairy fire breathing trolls. She figured that being in Norway there had to be trolls, the fiery breath was optional.

Spike cocked his head. There was something coming, he could hear it. "Slayer, hang up now! We need get out of here."

A/N A couple of links for Loki and Runes incase you are interested. The reasoning for choosing Loki for a focus of Ethan to recharge his powers and for the next point is that Loki is know as being a trickester and a focus for chaos in some form - hence us using him as the Norwegian connection for Ethan. He is also a neutral god neither good or evil which I found fascinating.

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Chapter 8: Chapter 8

She wasn't used to running away from anything. But Spike had grabbed her hand and yanked her into the nearest elevator and hit the top floor button. It was only after the doors slid shut that she realised it wasn't Ethan and that it was probably better not to be arrested for trespass in a foreign country without a passport.

"Oh, yeah... As if I'd bloody say anything. The Big Bad scarpering from some git shoving a floor polisher around." Spike kicked the door shut and scanned the plush penthouse office. "You could've let me pinch his keys at least," Spike growled. "Could've gotten out of here and checked out the new and improved sun-proofed Spike." He slumped into the big chair behind the massive burr walnut partners desk and propped his feet up on the highly polished surface. "So where are we hiding?" Spike reached over and snagged the name plate. "Looks like we found the head of the place." He tossed over the brass plaque as he started to dig through the drawer. "Nice. Bloody good cigar." He tossed a box of Cuban's onto the desk and carried on rummaging.

Buffy spotted a gleam of white plastic and, realising it was a mini bar, her stomach grumbled. The entire trip so far had been on the move and she was starving.

"Spike! You can't take those." Buffy wrinkled her nose at the box. "They will stink the place out." She watched implacably as he returned the box of cigars to the drawer with a dark glare and then turned back to the mini fridge she was raiding.

"Find anything good?"

Buffy squeaked and smacked Spike in the shins. "Stealth guy, much?"

"Oh, yeah. I've still got it." Spike squatted down next to her and pulled out a bottle of champagne. "The good stuff costs an arm and a leg; this bloke knows how to live the good life." Both of them had become so absorbed in their haul of food and drink that they didn't notice the flash of scales and teeth in the glass column that ran across the ceiling.

Buffy looked over at him, her cheeks puffed out with food as she chomped on a large apple, a hunk of cheese clutched in her other hand.

"Nice look, pet." Spike chuckled and stood. He expertly popped the cork on the Moet and reached for a pair of glasses. He filled them and handed one to Buffy as he drank from his. He walked over to the door by the window and pushed it open. "Oh, Slayer, I think you might want to see this!" he sing-songed.

"Oh!" Buffy shot past and squealed with joy. "Can you get my pack for me?" Her mind was filled with dreams of a hot soapy shower; she was already pulling off her jacket and handed it to the silent vampire. His eyes were riveted on her body as she pulled her boots off one by one and threw them over her shoulder; they landed with a clatter on the marble floor.

Spike stared down into the hopefully hazel eyes that peered up at him. He waited a beat, knowing it was coming.

"Pleeease," she begged. Buffy looked over at the stainless steel fitting of the massive shower and sighed. "Oh! Pleeease!" She clasped her hands in front of her and bounced up and down. "Shower fresh Buffy equals really happy Buffy!"

"What about the cleaner?" Spike asked weakly. He had already lost the battle with himself. One flash of her peepers and he was already halfway down the hallway in his mind.

"Bet he's long gone. Hey, once I'm all clean and smelling fresh you can have a nice shower as well."

That was the clincher. He hadn't had a chance for a clean up since before heading to the Watcher's flat and finding him with a shattered soul and a severe attitude that had impressed the heck out of his demon. Part of him had wanted to keep Ripper around; he had been a good drinking companion and had a sense of humour that would have made a Sphinx laugh like a hyena. But the slayer needed her watcher back in all his stuffy splendour, so here he was helping her out - again.

"Alright."

"Yay!" Buffy pecked him on the cheek and then blinked. "Oh...I kissed you..." She flushed red and shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

Spike smirked at the mute girl and headed for the door. "Don't worry, Slayer. I won't faint or tell..."

~~~~~~~

He couldn't decide if he was in heaven or hell.

A small panel of wood separated him from her nubile golden form. Spike took a long pull from the half empty bottle of champagne and glared at the door. "God! Why do I have to have a bloody good imagination?" He kicked at the desk and took another drink; he eyed the array of bottles on the shelf above the fridge and gave into temptation.

Soft golden curves covered in soap suds in a steamy room filled the beleaguered vampire's already fevered mind as he broke the seal on the bottle of JD. His stomach clenched as arousal filled his entire being. Spike had always known that the bird was a looker, but this was beyond that and then some.

"Oh, Christ." Spike drained half the bottle and then rubbed his hand over his face.

Minutes passed and all his overactive vampire hearing could pick up was the soft tuneless humming of the slayer as she bathed herself. Spike blinked rapidly as he heard her giggle. ‘Wonder what happened?' He half rose from his seat, tempted beyond all boundaries. ‘Just one little peak...she might have slipped and fallen, or she might need me to scrub the bits she can't reach...' Spike thumped back down in his chair, realising if he even laid a finger on the door knob, she'd stake his horny arse.

"I'm a bad puppy," he chuckled. His voice sounded strangled and laden with sexual tension and frustration.

"What was that, Spike?" Buffy's voice was muffled by the door.

"Nothing," Spike growled. "Just being a sad old perv," he whispered as he took another long pull of his favourite form of self-medication.

"'Kay. You really have to try this. It's one of those power showers," Buffy called out, unaware of what he had whispered.

Spike groaned. "Power shower. Thanks for that mental image." All he could see now were hard little drops of water hammering into her soft skin and raising goose-bumps in places no self respecting vampire should be thinking about in connection to the Slayer.

His mouth watered at the thought of her perky nipples tightening under the streams of water. Spike's hand shook as he raised the bottle to his dry lips. "Wonder if they are dark or pale pink?" Spike pondered as he let another mouthful of the booze pour down his throat. "And why the bloody hell am I wondering this? She's the bloody Slayer!" Spike nearly whimpered as his cock hardened at the mental image of the slim form of the slayer bending over to wash her toes.

"I am damned..."

~~~~~~~~

Buffy rubbed her hair dry with a towel and stood staring out at the snow covered view. The crystal Willow had enchanted to trace Ethan's magical signature was glimmering slightly against her skin. The preoccupied blonde looked down at it and sighed. At least he was somewhere in the area. Buffy had found the crystal in her pack when she had been pulling out clean clothes. Rather than say anything about her absent mindedness, she had slipped the fine chain over her head and let the small clear crystal rest between her breasts. If Spike said anything she would pretend it had been tucked under her clothes all the time.

She glanced over her shoulder at the closed door and wondered if Spike was enjoying the hot water. Idly she began to walk around the massive room, her hands trailing over ornaments and woodwork. Sighing, she slumped down onto the sofa and began to rifle through her backpack, searching for a comb and some cosmetics. Curling her legs under her, Buffy reached up, pulled the towel off her tangled hair and began to comb it.

"Stupid hair," she muttered as the teeth on the comb snagged on a knot. Putting down the comb she used her fingers to separate the snarled curls instead. Humming tunelessly, she tidied her hair and then braided it as she walked over to the bathroom door, as if drawn by a magnet.

Spike straightened when he heard the patter of her feet past the shut door. He eased his jeans off and stripped his T -shirt off over his head in one smooth move. The muscles on his back flexed as he straightened and absently scratched his muscled stomach. He glanced over at the empty mirror and sighed. He just knew his roots were a mess. ‘Wonder if the Slayer would help me out with them?' Spike laughed and shook his head at that thought.

Buffy meeped and jumped back from the door as she blushed puce. She pulled her hand reluctantly away from the wood panel and thrust it behind her back guiltily.

Spike paused briefly, his hand on the taps. "Slayer?" He could have sworn he had heard her squeaking. "You okay?"

Buffy scrambled backwards. "Fine...nothing," she squeaked.

Spike groaned quietly as his body reacted to her voice. With a determined set to his jaw, he wrenched the cold water tap on and angled his body in front of the icy cold spray. "Sweet bloody..." he yelped and threw himself backwards from the blast of frigid water, the shock of the water jolting all arousal from his body. Muttering under his breath, he reached over and adjusted the temperature and stuck his head under the spray with a resigned sigh.

Buffy frowned at the closed door. His burst of cuss words had made her jump a foot in the air. She swore at him under her breath. Last thing she wanted to be thinking about was him in the shower...naked...with pale skin covering hard muscles that flexed under the soapy suds as he ran his hands down his torso, down to his...

"Gahhh! Bad brain!" She smacked her forehead and ran to the windows to distract herself from the gorgeous vampire. "Oh, look, Christmas trees," she added lamely and stared accusingly at the landscape as if it were its fault for her being weak with the perving.

Spike groaned with relief and rinsed the shampoo from his hair, his eyes shut to avoid the stinging from the bubbles rinsed off his curls, as he lathered up his torso and washed off the grime of the last few days. His body ached with exhaustion; he had been running on fumes for the last few hours. Spike purred happily as he rolled his tense shoulders, trying to loosen the tightness. He turned around and lowered his head, letting the warm water soothe his aches and pains.

"Spike?" Buffy tapped at the door. He'd been in there for almost twenty minutes and she was beginning to think he'd been washed down the drain - he was worse that she was with the showering and pampering. "You okay in there?"

Spike paused mid stroke. "Oh, Christ..." He let go of his erection and looked guiltily over at the closed door, his mind filled with images of the girl standing on the other side of the door waiting impatiently for him. The warm water cascaded down his chest and hit the oversensitive tip of his cock, adding to his arousal. The dark hair surrounding his groin was wet and matted down under the water, his balls were tight against his body, and he had been moments away from release.

"Be right out." Spike winced at the sound of the strangled sexual tension in his voice. He gritted his teeth and let his hand wrap around his aching cock and with a few more strokes brought himself some relief. It didn't matter that the object of his fantasies was only a few steps away, he was too far gone. The mental images of her body wet and naked in the same space he now stood had tipped him over the edge of self control. He needed relief even if it were only for a few moments. "Nearly finished," he growled, the sensual pressure building up in his cock and balls roughening his voice. He threw his head back as he came, the cords in his neck standing out as he arched his back. Spike nearly bit through his lower lip trying to prevent himself from calling out her name as his body succumbed to his insistent strokes. Pearly white strands of semen were instantly washed away in the warm water and he shivered in relief as the all too familiar arousal he experienced around the Slayer slackened for a brief moment. With a contented sigh Spike turn off the taps and stepped out of the shower. And then promptly felt guilty for getting off only a few feet away from the oblivious slayer; he was a bad rude puppy...

Buffy's toes curled in her boots at the sound of his voice. It sounded like pure sin coated in melted chocolate and served up with a side order of nummy goodness. "'Kay, I'll just -err, keep an eye out for Ethan." she added lamely and backed away from the door again. She had been drawn too it over and over for the last twenty minutes or so. Her mind filled with images of Spike, naked and covered in soapy goodness. She had rested her hands flat on the shiny surface and pressed her forehead against the wood, her mouth watering at the mental images her overactive imagination had provided her. She had no idea where it was all coming from, but she was so past the whole Spike is evil whine. He was here fighting at her side, leaping from country to country trying to help her get Giles' soul back with no words of complaint. Earlier on in Ireland he had tried to protect her from discovering Angel's sordid history, and then had been honest with her and told her all he knew. Unlike the others-Angel, Parker and Riley, who had all lied to her at some point, Spike never had, not even when he had been her mortal enemy. Buffy froze. Since when did she consider Spike in the same breath of the guys she had dated? A prickle of realisation spread through her, but before she could grab at it with both hands and examine it in minute, boring detail, the bathroom door burst open and Spike sauntered out.

‘Oh, curls...' Buffy gawped at the sight of Spike's hair, tousled and a riot of curls. ‘He looks so cute! God, I am so checking him out and he can tell, I just know it! I feel so shallow...' Buffy flushed red and began to mess around with her backpack, anything to avoid looking at his all too observant blue eyes.

"Slayer, you okay?" Spike was filled with dread. She was blushing. The Slayer had realised he was having a wank and Christ he felt about two inches tall. Spike shifted from foot to foot, desperately searching for a distraction. "Did you know they call Norway the Land of the Midnight Sun?" he randomly blurted out. Spike mentally castigated himself for his idiocy, as if the slayer would be interested in a geography lesson.

Buffy seized on his words, anything to distract him from noticing that she was checking out his cute curls. "Really?" She looked over at him and then down at her hands, which lay in her lap, fingers twisted together as she tried to steady herself.

"Yeah, here and a few other places near the North Pole, they get twenty four hour sun in the summers and in the winter..."

"Twenty four hour nights, bet the vamps love it up here," Buffy added conversationally.

Spike shrugged. "Don't know. Never been through here before, it's not like the place has much to offer entertainment-wise. Only the Aurora Borealis, but not at this time of year," he added with a gut-cleanching sense of how lame he was being. Spike wanted to slap himself. Since when had he turned into a sodding tour guide? He knew he shouldn't have touched his cock any where near the slayer; it had turned his brains into mush and his mouth into a black hole spewing utter drivel.

Before either of them could say another word to break the uncomfortable silence, the sky filled with multi coloured strands of light. There was a blast of purple lights twisting into a corona that flickered over the building. The display was filled with a multitude of colours that flickered and danced across their vision; it was a gorgeous sight that filled Buffy with awe and Spike with a growing sense of unease.

"Something's off. That shouldn't be happening at this time of year." Spike pulled Buffy away from the window as his hackles rose. Someone was messing with them and he didn't like it.

"Spike, it's amazing," Buffy breathed as she looked up through the crystal dome over head. Her eyes filled with astonishment at the stunning display of light and colour in the sky. "I wish Willow could see this, she would flip." Buffy tugged her hand away from Spike's grasp and spun in a circle, her gaze never wavering from the cosmic light show. "I love it."

A deep chuckle filled the room. Both blonds froze in shock. Buffy twisted around and stood back to back with Spike, her fists raised defensively. "What was that?" she hissed.

"Peace, honoured champions. It is a gift from me to you, nothing more." The disembodied voice that boomed through the penthouse was filled with mischief and mirth. "My apologies for the lack of hospitality, but unfortunately others have forced my hand in aiding the thief of souls. This small show is a gift and an attempt to appease you."

Spike vamped out and growled, his fists tightening. Whoever it was knew all too much about their mission and it sounded like he'd had a helping hand in stripping the watcher of his tweedy bits. "Who are you?" he demanded angrily. Buffy shifted on her feet and scanned the large room, searching for the owner of the voice. There was nothing; her spidey senses were only registering Spike, nothing else.

"What are you and what do you want?" she demanded angrily.

"Loki, and again my apologies for startling you. You are both given safe passage in my home and place of work. A word of warning, your quarry approaches. I bid you adieu and good luck." Then in a final burst of light, the Aurora borealis vanished in a flurry of greens and purples.

Buffy ran to the windows and searched the snowscape. "There!" she exclaimed and pointed to a fast moving snowmobile. "Spike, enough with the bumpies and the grrrs, we need to motor."

~~~~~~~~~~

There was a momentary pause.

All three opponents in the same room for the first time since the entire trip started. Buffy eyed Ethan sourly; his stint in prison didn't seem to have affected him much. He still looked shifty, dressed in a silk shirt, cords and a pair of shiny shoes. He still had the vibe of a snake oil salesman and the way he was smirking at her right now made her want to scratch his eyes out.

"Ohhh, you caught me, you clever slayer you. Giles would be so proud." Ethan rocked back on his heels. "Oh, wait. He can't, because Giles isn't at home right now, is he?" he mocked and patted the battered leather satchel, his chest heaving from the exertion of running.
Buffy lunged forward. Her focus was on the leather bag, the one that contained her Watcher's soul, the same one that Ethan clutched to his chest, and her eyes glittered with anger. "Give me that!"

Spike growled and vamped out. He followed closely on Buffy's heels, all too aware that the lean dark-haired man was edging towards the altar and the coin with the apple engraved on it. It was pulsing with accumulated power. The area around it singed slightly, the oak altar charred a little from the power garnered from the focal point of Loki's power centre. His business and home.

"Oh of course, here you are." Ethan rolled his eyes at the irate blonde and slung the strap of the satchel over his shoulder. "Honestly, Slayer, do you really think it is as easy as that? I owe you and Ripper a lot more for the last nasty little surprise you dumped me into. So if you think I am making it that easy for you, then think again." He sneered at the two of them and reached for the coin. "By the way, have a nice swim."

"What?" Buffy skidded to a halt, Spike close on her heels.

Ethan picked the coin up. He kicked the rune covered altar at the two blonds and flipped the oval coin into the air. He caught it absently, looking up at the clouds gathered above his head. "Tick tock...time for me to get going, I think." He reached behind him and pressed a slightly indented panel in the wall behind him. "Oh, no! How will the two heroes escape this perilous trap in time?" he asked in a mocking tone.

Buffy felt the glass floor move and slide under her feet; she swore loudly and grabbed hold of Spike. "No, don't!"

"Oh yes, that's going to work. One ‘no don't' and suddenly I'm a reformed man? Hardly! If your government scientists couldn't neuter me, I doubt very much a pansy arsed plea like that is going to work!" Ethan looked up and smiled. "Time for me to go. Pity I'll miss all the fun and games."

His Cheshire cat smile was all Buffy saw as she and Spike dropped downwards.

A/N I know a cliffhanger and a watery one at that! I am a third of the way through the next chapter so it will arrive soon ^_^

Hope everyone enjoyed the dip I have taken back into writing after a couple of months - comments would be awesome!

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