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Chapter 20

As the seconds ticked by and Spike showed no signs in the slightest of slowing his ravenous feeding – or waking – Angel began to frown. Buffy was awake beneath him; her eyes were closed and her lips were pursed from the pain of Spike’s bite. But she’d yet to throw him off. And showed no signs of doing it, either. 

At the rate Spike was going, he’d have Buffy drained dry in minutes. 

Angel slashed his wrist with his fangs and shoved it in front of Buffy’s mouth, and for once she didn’t argue, the demon in her desperate to replace the blood that was being taken in vast quantities by her sire.

Another minute passed with Angel getting steadily weaker and there was still no sign of recognition on Spike’s behalf. It was instinctive, him taking Spike’s hand from where it gripped Buffy’s hair and bringing it to his own mouth, sinking his fangs into the underside of his pale wrist.

Blood spilled onto his tongue, and Angel couldn’t help but moan in pleasure at the taste. Spike and Buffy… and him. Mixing together to create one distinct flavor. His family. 

They lay there for some time, each drinking from another, until ever so slowly, Spike began to come back to himself. Instinctively, the three tapered off, then stopped altogether. Slowly retracting their fangs and lapping at the marks each had made. 

Angel watched as Buffy’s eyes slowly fluttered open and Spike lifted his head. Witnessed the emotion that held his childe in thrall as he gazed down at Buffy, scarcely able to believe she was there with them, and how Spike sought his own gaze for confirmation. And Angel smiled. Yes, it wasn’t a dream. Buffy was really here with them.

Sounds of a key being inserted into the lock prevented them from saying anything. 

Angel reluctantly pulled away and got off the bed and Spike managed to roll to his side and spoon himself up against Buffy as the door opened and Wes, followed by Cordelia and Connor – who was looking a tad embarrassed by the green mist that seemed to cling to him like a second skin – stepped inside.

“We’ve brought blood,” Wes announced by way of greeting, setting the cooler on the small table as Connor shut the door. 

Angel had moved to the other bed and Cordelia joined him there, curling up against the vamp’s side and laying her head against his shoulder. She smiled slightly at both Spike and Buffy.

“Hey, Buffy. Spike, welcome back,” she murmured, gifting Angel with a smile of his own as his arm slide around her shoulder and drew her close.  

It had been tough waking to find herself alone in bed and Angel curled up next to Spike on the other one. But seeing the contented look upon his face just now, absent since Buffy’s abrupt departure and Spike’s mental withdrawal, and the fact that he seemed to want her there next to him… it made it easier for her to handle the initial jealousy she felt upon spying the three sleeping so peacefully on the bed. “You alright?” she whispered as he brushed his lips across her temple.

“I am now…” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

It was a tired group that finally let themselves into the Hyperion Hotel three nights later. Fred was up, having received a phone call from Wesley a few hours earlier, and hurried forward to be enveloped by the arms of her lover. Everyone that followed in his wake gave the pair a bemused eye roll and half-hearted hello to the girl now locking lips with Wes as they stepped around the two and walked further into the lobby. 

Connor didn’t bother to hang around; throwing a hasty “goodnight” over his shoulder, he hurried up the staircase – the pinked cheeks proclaiming his ongoing embarrassment hidden by the green mist-like energy that was never far from his side. The situation would have been cause for much ribbing by the others, especially Spike, but everyone was too worn out to do nothing more than speculate about the strange entity. Which was why the group had rode straight through, driving in shifts, rather than taking a more leisurely route home. 

There was something not quite right about the mist that, since saving Buffy from combusting, had figuratively glued itself to the boy’s side. Research was in order, and what resources they needed were back in Los Angeles. 

Buffy stared hard at the departing boy’s back as he strode swiftly down the darkened hallway of the second floor and disappeared from sight; it took Spike nudging her before she forcibly shook herself and returned her attention to the small group now gathered in the lobby. She frowned slightly, knowing that she was forgetting something.

“What’s wrong, luv?” Spike whispered in her ear. 

Buffy cast another look at the deserted hallway before finally shaking her head. She couldn’t remember, but knew it would come to her eventually. “I… it’s nothing…” Another shake and she dismissed it from her mind. To dwell on it would only make the thought linger in her subconscious. Better to forget about it completely. Let the memory resurface naturally. 

“You’re tired. Why don’t we go up to bed?” 

She didn’t offer any protest as Spike led her toward the stairs. Even though it was the middle of the night, she’d yet to sleep properly, and she was tired. The thought of snuggling next to her mate – in a bed, no less – was too good an idea to pass up. 

Everyone else was of the same opinion, and weren’t far behind the two in seeking their own rooms. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“I swear, B., I’m gonna start chargin’ admission.” 

“Well, I guess that answers my question of ‘your place or mine,’” Buffy grinned.  

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we were in for another apocalypse or something, what with all these joint dreams we’re having. And, lemme tell you right now, you can count me out. I’m on vacation.” 

Buffy snorted at the girl’s disgruntled look. “Like Robin would let you get three feet outside the house if you said you were needed in LA. He’d find a good use for those chains you’ve got hidden under your bed.” 

“What makes you think— Oh! Score one for the uptight vampire slayer,” Faith chuckled somewhat ruefully. “I fell right into that one, didn’t I?” 

Buffy tipped her head in acknowledgment. “And I’m not uptight. I’m very not with the uptight.” 

“So, any ideas on why we’re here… again?” Faith asked, sobering. “Other than you butting into my sex life, that is?” 

“If I hazarded a guess, I’d say I came here to have you help me remember something.” 

“What?” 

“Well if I knew that, I wouldn’t be here, now would I? Or, at least I don’t think I would…” 

Faith quirked a brow. “Giles and Wes are the brains of the bunch. I’m just the hired muscle. Why don’t you ask them?” 

“Not sure. But if you’re here, or make that, I’m here, it’s probably something that you know. Something that we both know.” 

“Makes sense, I guess. So, where do we start?” 

“The last dream. Maybe going over that will help jog my memory.” 

“Alright.” 

The two sat down on a bench that seemed to mysteriously appear and went over their previous dream, bit by bit until… 

~*~ 

“Green mist!” Buffy shouted. She bolted upright in bed, barely sparing the vampire who jumped to his feet snarling, sure that they were under attack. Grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed, she tore out of their room and down the hall. 

“Buffy!” Spike shouted, but she didn’t stop. “Bloody hell,” he grumbled, and snagged his jeans off the floor and slipped them on. He’d not sensed any undue anxiety from the Slayer; instead, it was more hope and certainty that he detected. Grumbling under his breath about having his sleep disturbed, he started after her.

He ignored the doors opening, and a bleary-eyed Giles sputtering in indignation about having his sleep interrupted. Ignored, too, Angel who appeared at his own door frowning his displeasure at being awakened, his pants appearing to be hastily thrown on. 

“Spike? What—?” 

When Spike ignored him and continued a slow jog down the hallway, Angel pulled his bedroom door closed behind him and started after the blond, his pace unhurried. Spike didn’t appear upset or concerned. Was more aggravated than anything else as he followed behind. 

Then he saw where she stopped. Or rather… didn’t.

Panic overtook him and he increased his pace until he was all but running to catch up to the pair. Connor. Something was wrong with Connor. 

Buffy burst into Connor’s room and startled the boy out of a sound sleep.

Having spent his formative years in Quar’toth, Connor was awake in an instant, out of his bed and palming a weapon. Spying the blonde Slayer, looking around frantically, rather than aggressively, Connor relaxed his stance and set his weapon back on the nightstand. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyeing her warily.

“Dawnie?” Buffy whispered, oblivious to the two vampires that had rushed into the room behind her and the boy still standing by the bed, eyeing her with a great deal of confusion. “Dawnie? I know it’s you. Please…” Her eyes watered, too afraid to hope. To believe that she’d not really lost her sister to Illyria. 

The green mist suddenly materialized in front of her and it was all Buffy could do not to break down. “It is you,” she whispered in awe, and felt the energy envelop her in a virtual-type hug. She turned then, gifting both Spike and Angel with a huge grin. “It’s Dawnie! She… I don’t know… but it’s her. And she understands me. See? We’ve got to get Giles. Wesley too.” 

Just then, Giles poked his head into the room. 

“Get me for what? Do you all know what bloody time it is?” 

“Giles, it’s Dawn.” Buffy indicated the green energy swirling around her. “She’s back. Only… well… not.” She frowned slightly, but it wasn’t enough to dispel her sudden good mood. 

“Remarkable,” Giles breathed, squinting through his glasses in an attempt to focus his blurry-eyed vision. 

“We’ve got to—” 

“Research,” Giles finished excitedly, already backing out of the room. “I’ll wake Wesley.” 

“Come on, luv. Watchers’ll figure this out. Let’s leave Puppy alone so he can get back to sleep.” 

Connor narrowed his eyes at Spike’s moniker, but for once seeing his friend’s lighthearted mood, he refrained from giving the vamp grief over it. Tomorrow though, all bets were off. He’d show Spike a thing or two. About how much he wasn’t a puppy. 

Buffy protested, but both Angel and Spike managed to convince her that it was doubtful Dawn would go anywhere. Especially given that the mist appeared intelligent, and seemed to recognize everyone. They knew what needed to be done – find the original spell the monks had used to “make” Dawn in the first place – to bring her back. Haunting Connor’s room wouldn’t see anything accomplished, other than make for a cranky teenaged boy.

It was Dawn that finally decided the matter, as if agreeing with both Angel’s and Spike’s arguments, shifting away from the Slayer to resume the spot she’d claimed as her own: hanging out on the ceiling above Connor’s pillow. 

When she still seemed hesitant about leaving, Spike stepped forward and looped an arm around Buffy’s waist and shepherded her towards the door. “Let’s go, Slayer. Back to bed.” 

Buffy whined the entire time she was led from the room, but didn’t fight Spike. The brief rush of adrenaline she’d felt upon guessing the truth had left her in a rush, leaving her overly tired. She tried to muffle a yawn, but to little effect. Truthfully, now that she’d remembered what she was supposed to, and that being reunited with her sister was literally a done deal, the adrenaline from her Slayer dream was wearing off, and she found herself extremely tired all of a sudden. 

Back in their room, she allowed Spike to guide her back beneath the sheets, then snuggled close once he’d climbed in next to her. 

“How did you know?” Spike asked, his lips brushing against her forehead. 

“Faith. We’ve kinda been buggin’ each others’ dreams the last few days.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Uh huh. Guess it’s a Slayer thing. Anyway, it was something she’d said before. How maybe it was supposed to be Dawn that Illyria took over. And that she’d been formed from energy. I didn’t make the connection before now. It was there, I just… ” 

“You were tired. Bloody hell, we were all tired. No sense beatin’ yourself up over it. We know now, and Giles and Wes will figure it out.” Spike kissed Buffy’s brow and gave her a hug. “Now close your eyes, luv. You’re knackered.” 

It didn’t take much convincing by Spike. His fingers continued to stroke the Slayer’s pale skin long after she’d drifted back to sleep.

Sleep, for him, was another matter. He hoped his words wouldn’t come back and bite in him the arse. He’d only just been reunited with his mate, and if the watchers failed to deliver… 

Unable to stand it any longer, he carefully extracted himself from the Slayer’s embrace and got out of bed. A few minutes later he was dressed and letting himself out of their room. Muted voices drifted up to him and he descended the stairs – Wesley and Giles were hard at work.

He stopped by the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea and helped himself to a mug of blood before letting himself into Wesley’s office. 

“Tea?” he asked, setting the service down on a small, unused portion of the table. 

The two Englishmen gave him a grateful smile and both made quick work of fixing themselves a cup.

“How’s it coming?”

“Rather well, actually. The books Wesley managed to acquire have yielded remarkable results. I daresay we’ll have the spell located within the hour.” 

“Really?” Spike hadn’t thought it would be that easy. Nothing they’ve ever done in the past had been that easy. 

“If you want to know the truth,” Giles confided. “I think we’re being gifted with a bit of divine intervention.” 

“Giles is right,” Wesley confirmed at the vampire’s doubtful expression. “It’s like the books we need are at the tip of our fingers.” 

“Ah ha!” Giles shouted. “I’ve got it!” He frowned, trying to decipher what language the text was in. “Uh… anybody here speak Czech?”

The End 

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epilogue