"Yes! How many times do I have to tell you, yes!"
The gravelly voice was tinged with exasperation.
Spike shut his open mouth. He'd travelled long and far to reach this place- a small brick house on the outskirts of Philadelphia. Now, he'd finally found the elusive Morag of Perth...the Wish-Maker; and he wasn't going to waste his time on useless doubts.
Still...Morag of Perth...a dumpy middle-aged woman in a fuscia jogging suit? Not what he expected.
"No," she agreed, "I'm not what anyone expects really. They always want a glamorous fairy or an ancient crone. What have you decided?"
"I'll pay your price."
"Whatever it is?" she asked.
Spike nodded resolutely. He was deeply ashamed of his weakness; but he needed...had to have...love. He could bear anything but the emptiness that came from having no one in his life.
Morag seemed satisfied. "I owe an old friend a great debt. You will go to him, and perform any task he gives you. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Spike said calmly. He didn't much care; although it'd be nice to know what demon he'd have to kill.
"One more thing....be sure that what you wish is what you want."
"I want Dru back." The words came quickly, automatically.
"You've tried to get her back on your own, haven't you?" she asked him.
"Yeah; and I did get her back; but it wasn't the same...SHE wasn't the same!"
"Yet, your wish was to have her back," Morag said softly. "Now, my wishes are always granted; but so much depends on the wording. A girl once wished for Michael to love her; from that day forth, every man she met who was named Michael fell madly in love with her! Except for the one she wanted. Because he'd grown tired of having such a common name, you see- and changed it to Mason!"
Spike stared in sudden comprehension. "Oh, yeah, I get it! So I'd pay, and wish...and she'd come back; but she would still be different."
Morag nodded. "That's why I warn you to wish very carefully indeed. Oh, the many, many times folk have come back to beg and plead 'But that wasn't what I MEANT! ' Doesn't matter, only one wish can be granted, and that's what was SAID. Nothing I can do about it."
Spike considered. He'd been so sure he knew how to regain Dru's love by torture. It had seemed to work, at first. But somehow, someway, something was wrong. Off.
He could wish for her to love him again...but what if there was some trick there? What if...that wanker of a sire had been right; and she'd never...truly...loved him? NO! She did...of course she did! He just had to be sure to word it exactly right.
"Ready now?" Morag drawled. She took out a tiny white candle- the kind used on birthday cakes; and struck a match. "I'm going to touch this flame to the wick- and you will have until the wick burns down to the candle to state your wish."
Seconds only; but he was prepared, and said glibly, "I wish for the love of my love to love me as much as I do her."
He just heard the words leave his lips when the fire reached the candle...he glanced up at Morag.
"There. Your wish is granted."
Spike frowned; the candlelight reflecting on Morag's thick glasses almost made it look like she was laughing at him. "Are you sure? She'll love me back?"
"Oh yes. As much as you love her."
Spike felt the unbearable tension ease. "That's the ticket! That's what I wanted."
"It's important to know what you want."
"Yeah...well, I'll be off, then." Now that it was over, Spike was itching to leave.
Morag leaned forward. "Yes, you will." She blew out the candle.
For one instant everything went black; there was the rush of wind, and wings, and a sense of movement...
With a teeth-jarring crash, Spike landed hard on a thin smooth surface. He lifted his head, and found himself staring down at a sign that read, "Welcome to Sunnydale."
"Argghh!" The vampire's scream of rage echoed all along the empty street.
"Geez!" The voice came from somewhere above and behind. "Talk about waking the dead!"
Spike sprang to his feet and whipped around, one arm lifting for the killing blow.
The little man regarded him with interest, but not a trace of fear. "Morag told me you'd be coming. Call me Whistler."
Spike relaxed. "Well Whistler, who do you want me to kill in this hole?"
"You don't like Sunnydale?" Whistler asked innocently.
Spike shrugged impatiently. "I don't mind the PLACE; but that little bitch of a Slayer will be after me as soon as she knows I'm in town."
"Yeah, she will," Whistler concurred.
"Not that I care, but I have to find my girl," Spike explained.
"Oh, you will." Whistler said casually. "Because she's here."
"Drusilla is in Sunnyhell?" Spike was astonished. Then he noticed that Whistler was walking away.
"Hey!" Spike gave chase. "What is it you want me to do?"
"The Calderash are back," Whistler said, turning his head to give the vampire a reproachful look. "We need to hurry."
"Who?"
But Whistler apparently wasn't in a question-answering mood. He trotted briskly into town...
"Here! What the bleedin' hell happened?" Spike stared in dismay at the ruins of the high school.
Whistler barely spared it a glance. "Oh that...an Ascension. The Slayer stopped it but there were casualties, like the Mayor, the Principal, the Slayer..."
"WHAT?" Spike screamed, staggering from the shock.
"Not your Slayer," Whistler soothed. "The OTHER one! And we're never gonna get there if you keep stopping every minute."
Spike nearly exploded, but choked down his anger enough to catch up to the demon, who was knocking on the door of a house. It swung open slowly.
Spike noticed he was staring down at a crossbow; and froze.
"We're here to see the Slayer," Whistler said unperturbed.
"What?!" Spike turned his head and glared at the demon.
"I know that voice!" The Slayer pushed past the short red-haired boy in the doorway. "Spike! What are you doing back...again?"
He looked at her and summoned his best grin. "Hello, Cutie!" God, the little bitch was pretty! Beautiful, even. No wonder his wanker sire couldn't keep his hands off! Speaking of which... "Where is your lapdog, pet?"
She didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about. "He went away; it...it's better." But her eyes clouded.
"That's why I brought some help, kid," Whistler said.
Help? Spike looked at Whistler in surprise. But there wasn't any... "Heyyy!" he yelled. "You mean me?"
"Sure," Whistler nodded. "You're the best person, seeing as how the two of you have worked together before.
Buffy's jaw dropped. "You mean, Spike is the help you promised us? SPIKE?"
He'd been feeling like all the air had been kncoked out of him; but still Spike bristled at her tone. Obviously the Slayer thought him a poor substitute for her precious Angel.
"I'll show you who's the best fighter, Slayer," he growled. "The Calderash is going down! Uh...just what IS the Calderash, anyway?"
The Slayer threw up her hands in disgust. "Why me?" she asked nobody in particular. "Oh well...I suppose you may as well come in."
Spike accepted the grudging invitation; and followed her into an apartment that he assumed belonged to her Watcher.
"Where's your Watcher, pet?" he asked.
"If you mean Giles, he's upstairs getting some things, " Buffy answered. "If you mean Wesley, he went back to England."
There were voices on the stairs; Giles came down accompanied by the red-haired witch and the dark boy Spike had kidnapped months ago. The kitchen door opened; and out stepped a tall slender girl who nodded amiably to Whistler.
"Anya!" the demon exclaimed. "Haven't seen you in a century or two! How's it going?"
Anya sighed. "Not the best, Whistler. I HATE being human!" Her eyes roamed the room and settled on the dark boy. "Still, there are...compensations." She walked over to him. "Umm, Xander, I think I made coffee?"
He gave her a quizzical look. "Maybe we should check it out..."
The Slayer took up the rest of the introductions. "I think you all know Spike- except you, Oz. Oh, and Anya. Oh, and Amy."
Spike blinked. Oz had reluctantly lowered the crossbow...Anya was, well obviously she was a fellow demon, if Whistler knew her. He looked around for Amy.
Willow pointed to a rat in a cage. "That's Amy, Spike."
He scowled. Were they mocking him?
Buffy caught the look. "Amy's a witch," she explained. "Under a rat spell right now, but usually, she's human."
"I'm trying to de-rat her," Willow said sadly, "but I guess I'm not a very good witch. Just as well I didn't do that love spell for you, Spike."
He felt a bit uncomfortable. Luckily, just then Anya and Xander returned.
"You have to make sure the coffeemaker's plugged in, Anya," Xander was explaining.
"I'm not really used to electricity," Anya admitted. "I like candles better."
Spike decided he'd had enough. "Back to business, people," he barked. "What is the Calderash?"
"It's not a what, it's a who. Except it's really a them," Buffy explained. "A big gypsy clan of spellcasters. Remember our teacher, Miss Calendar, who was killed? She was one of them. So now they want revenge against Giles."
"Against Giles?? Why not against Angel? He's the one who killed that teacher!"
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"Nevertheless, it was because of me that Jenny attempted to curse Angelus again; the clan believe she would never have taken such a risk otherwise," Giles said softly.
"They've sent a hit squad after the G-man," Xander put in. "Led by Janos' brother Zoltan. So we're setting a trap for them, tonight."
"Giles will leave in Oz' van- they'll think the house is empty, and will break in to prepare their little surprise for Giles. Only- we'll have a surprise of our own."
"Not a bad plan," Spike conceded. "Nothing fancy but it ought to work."
Still, he found himself impressed with the smoothness of the team. Willow donned a blond wig and Buffy's blue coat, and then she and the rest drove off in Oz' van.
Less than an hour later, the Calderash made their move, entering the house soundlessly.
Spike waited, crouched in the shadows, the Slayer an arm's length away. Zoltan and three of his men started up the stairs, while the other six fanned out into the living room. Vampire and Slayer moved almost as one, every gesture reflecting a bizarre synchronicity. Spike was reminded of the time they'd faced down Trick's goons side by side...and the curious sense of partnership they'd shared. He fought on with an increasing exhilaration; he caught her eye, and knew she was feeling it too.
Spike knocked out the last Rom. "How many does that make?"
"Eight," she answered, "two missing...I'll check upstairs."
She was almost at the top when a shadowy figure sprang full force from the bedroom, grasped the bannister, and kicked at her. Buffy flew backward- the length of the steps- and lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom.
"Buffy!" Spike shouted her name, unaware of the figure looming behind him. The Rom brought the lamp crashing across his head, and Spike dropped like a rock. The other male jumped down to turn the body over.
He hoisted a long wooden staff, readying it for the downward thrust...
Buffy seized his arm, just as Spike reached up, grabbed the other man's ankles, and heaved him at Zoltan. The momentum carried both across the room- and the Slayer leaped up to propell them through the front door.
But the impact of the kick sent her spinning back just as Spike was struggling to his feet. Once again he landed flat on his back, this time with the Slayer on top of him.
She didn't move.
"Slayer?" Spike was worried; she lay so still. "Can you hear me? Buffy!"
Her long-lashed eyes fluttered open. "Of course I can hear you. Stop yelling, Spike!"
He felt ridiculously relieved.
The front door opened again; this time it was Whistler who came in. "Sorry, kids. Didn't mean to interrupt anything."
Buffy stood up slowly. Spike followed suit, feeling oddly embarrassed.
"What did I tell you, mate? Piece of cake, that gypsy clan! And now...I better find a place to spend the daylight hours."
********
Spike stretched out in Joyce's bed and watched as Buffy carefully pulled the shades, then pinned thick towels over them. "Sure your mum won't mind, Slayer?"
"She's away until Thursday," Buffy answered. "We'd both better get some sleep."
Spike recognized this; yet he really didn't feel very sleepy. Must be the adventure of fighting the Calderash...quite a change from the usual hunting routine..
Just then the phone rang, and Buffy rushed down the hall to get it. "Oh, Giles! Yeah, the Calderash are history. Uh-huh...wait, you saw WHO? Oh no- not again! Ok, we'll deal in the morning. I mean, in the evening."
The Slayer reappeared in the doorway. "Sleep well, Spike. I may not be around when you wake up, so I'll say goodbye now."
"Wait," he commanded. "Who did Giles see tonight, Buffy?" Not really noticing he had used her name.
"He saw Ethan."
At his inquiring look, she explained, "Ethan Rayne. Giles used to know him in England. He's a troublemaker- max! If he's here, he's up to something bad. Evil spells, calling up demons..."
Spike felt excitement stir. This...Ethan sounded interesting; and Buffy clearly expected to have her hands full.
He could stay long enough to lend a hand....
No! He needed to find Dru- that was more important!
But surely, if she truly was in Sunnyhell, he'd run into her? And why should he miss out on the fun of going up against a Master Sorcerer like Ethan? He'd waited this long to get Dru back, why not a few more days?
The Slayer gave him a tentative smile. Not yet friends; but surely, no longer enemies?
He propped himself up on his pillows and patted the bed beside him. "Tell me about Ethan Rayne," he invited.
********
Whistler lifted his glass in a toast. "You know, he'll always think you didn't come through on your end of the deal."
Morag shrugged. "Can't be helped, Whistler. I TELL them and TELL them...be careful what you wish for! You get whatever's SAID- and not whatever's MEANT! But do they listen? They do not."
"So- he did get his wish?"
"Well, of course he did! My wishes are always granted."
Whistler objected, "But if he wished for Drusilla to love him..."
"He didn't though." Morag said definitely. "He distinctly said 'love of his life.'"
"Oh," Whistler nodded in understanding. "I get it; his mistake was in assuming the love of his life was Drusilla."
"Exactly," Morag agreed. "Well, he'll soon know better. And I already said he'd get his wish. And now- I've another visitor coming...."
Whistler smiled at her, took the hint, and vanished.
Morag trotted off to answer the doorbell.
"You...YOU are Morag of Perth?"
Morag sighed, but nodded politely. "You want to make a wish, don't you dear?"
The girl nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! You see, there's this boy....we've been out a few times, and he took me to the prom, but..."
"But you want more," Morag said wisely.
"I want HIM! He's the only male I want...the only one I've ever wanted! In a thousand years!"
Morag smiled. "Don't fret, Anya. I guarantee...what you wish will come true."