Part Three

Wesley threw his bags to the floor and raced up the stairs. He paused in front of Buffy's door, but, hearing nothing, continued to Spike's room.

Hovering in front of the door, he heard soft music playing on the radio, and the faint scent of incense invaded his nostrils. Suddenly, an articulated groan of pleasure, obviously Buffy's, pierced the near silence, followed by Spike's low chuckle. Bracing himself-covering his eyes with one hand, and squaring his opposite shoulder, he burst into the room, shouting, "For the love of all things good, stop!"

Both Slayers burst out laughing, and a dull thud was heard as one of them fell off the bed. Wesley uncovered his eyes. Buffy was lying on her stomach. The only article of clothing missing was her tank top. She buried her head in her arms to keep from choking with laughter. Spike was fully clothed in dark blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt, lying on the floor, rolling with laughter and clutching his sides.

"What do you think you're doing, Wesley! You just interrupted the best backrub I've ever had in my life!" Her words were muffled by the bedding, and her shoulders shook with unrestrained laughter.

Spike gasped and clutched his abdomen, then stood in one fluid movement. "What was that for? 'For the love of all things good, stop!'" he mimicked in a high-pitched proper English accent. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

"There is a� a prophecy�" he mumbled, his head lowered slightly in intimidation.

"That says what exactly?" Buffy demanded, having put on her tank top by this point. She placed her hands on her hips and looked expectantly at her former Watcher.

Wesley cleared his throat. "You two� if you� ahem� copulate� before the next full moon� would produce a great evil. Perhaps the cause of the next apocalypse. However� if by some chance you do not copulate by the end of the week, the evil will have been diverted and you would live as normal lives as you possibly could, considering your� unusual� circumstances."

"Spike, I think he is implying that I am a slut. What do you think?" Buffy winked at the blond man standing next to her.

Spike winked back. "You know, luv, I think you may be right. Remind me, what happened to the last person who implied that?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you, Spike." Buffy was having trouble concealing her smirk. "Because I don't think anyone has ever wanted their testicles removed through their nose before."

Spike and Wesley both winced visibly at this remark. "So, Wesley, are you implying that I am a slut?"

"Of course not. I would never do such a thing� I must be going now� enjoy your backrub�" He scurried from the room, closing the door tightly behind him. He paused momentarily, shaking his head. "A backrub."

Buffy flopped back onto the bed and stacked her hands, placing her head atop them. Suddenly something black, soft, and warm landed on her face. She reached up and plucked it off as the bed gave slightly, indicating that Spike had joined her. The item on her face was his shirt.

"Luv?" he called from his position further up the bed. "I think you owe me a backrub." She sat up and looked at him. And nearly drooled. He was bare-chested, his platinum hair slightly tousled. His chest rose and fell slightly with each breath. Her eyes trailed down his taut abdomen to his navel, where a thin line of dark brown hair began. It disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. He had undone the top button. They had been intimate, yes, but she had never had the chance to sit back and look at him before. What she could see is that he was a very beautiful man. Buffy blinked and shook her head, trying to regain some control over her hormones.

"Okay, Spikey� roll over." He situated himself on his stomach, a pillow beneath his head. "With or without lotion?"

"Never had a massage with lotion before. Does it make a difference?" he asked her.

She smiled. For a 128-year-old, he had a lot of learning to do. "You betcha."

"With, please."

Buffy slathered her hands with lotion, warming it up to body temperature before spreading it liberally on his muscular back. She then straddled his hips, which earned her a look of surprise from Spike, and promptly lost herself in the feel of his skin, and the rippling muscles beneath it. She was enjoying massaging his warm skin so much that she murmured softly, "I think that these next two days are going to be the longest of my life." This elicited a tortured groan from Spike, and she promptly apologized. "But it's only two days. And then we do some good in the name of clear skin, and decide what to do with ourselves."

Spike chuckled, murmuring "I think my decision has already been made."

A sharp rapping at the door startled them both, and Buffy hurriedly answered it. Xander stood behind the door, with an excited look on his face. "Guys? The pyrotechnics are about to start. If you get downstairs now, you can get front-row seats to the action." He scurried back down the stairs.

Spike rolled off the bed and grabbed his shirt from the edge. He pulled it over his head as he and Buffy walked out of the room. "Bout time the Order of Aurelius had a family reunion."

When the two Slayers reached the lobby, they noticed two things: first, there was a large pentagram in the middle of the floor. And second, Willow and Wesley had locked themselves into the office, and were chanting in a trance-like state. They did their separate spells-Willow cursing Darla and Drusilla with souls, and Wesley curing Drusilla's dementia. Buffy and Spike leaned against a wall. Angel tossed everyone in the lobby a pair of sunglasses for the final spell. They all slipped them on, and watched the center of the room as a glowing orb the size of a pea� no, a basketball� a small car� formed. It was a mass of swirling colors-bright, blinding, and suddenly two figures fell from it. The glow disappeared as quickly as it had formed. And the two figures stood. Drusilla spoke first.

"Where� where am I? The voices have stopped." She sighed with relief. "I thought they'd never stop." She looked around, and recognized the people in the room.

"Angel? Spike? Spike, what are you doing with the Slayer?" She walked over to him and touched his cheek, then drew her hand back sharply when she realized that it was warm.

"I was� broken, I guess is the best word. The only way to cure me was to make me human. Buffy just added a bonus by donating some of her blood during the healing spell, and so now I'm a male Slayer." He looked into her eyes, seeing the warring emotions behind them.

"Are-are you happy?"

"Yeah." Because I finally have the one thing I've wanted since we first came to Sunnydale.

Darla awoke, having been knocked unconscious due to the fall from the portal. She approached Angel directly. "Angelus. Care to explain why, exactly, I'm in this hellhole again?"

"I knew it. Even with a soul, she's still a complete bitch." Buffy whispered to Spike under her breath.

"I heard that, Slayer." Darla hissed. "Now explain."

"There's a clan of Tybar demons after the entire Order of Aurelius. I figured it would be better to go in together than to get slaughtered one by one. It sounded good at the time." He was incredibly sarcastic by this point.

"Tybars� aren't those the walking pimples?" Darla wrinkled her nose. "And why does Spike have a heartbeat? I can hear it from here."

"Spike isn't Deadboy Jr. anymore, sweet cheeks." Xander replied, smirking.

"He's human-or if you want the details, he's a male version of Buffy." Cordelia snickered.

Willow and Wesley emerged from the office. Willow weakly spoke. "Hey Cordy? I don't suppose you have about a gallon of coffee lying around anywhere, do you?" She and the Watcher collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. Cordelia ran to the kitchen to brew some of her special guaranteed-to-melt-your-spoon coffee.

"Angelus, I want answers, and I want them now," Darla demanded. "I am after all still your sire."

Angel rolled his eyes and sighed. "Darla, sit down." When she refused, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I said sit down, Darla."

"Yes, Master Angelus." Darla quickly took a seat in one of the easy chairs fairly close to Angel.

Spike clapped his hands, grinning. "Neat trick. If I were still a vamp, I'd want to learn it."

The dark man shrugged. "One of the perks of being the Master, I guess."

"That means� if you die, then I become the Master? Or would that be Mistress?" Drusilla shook her head. "That's frightening. I don't want it."

"You always have the option of passing it on to your most favored childe, Dru." Angel said calmly. "But since Spike is technically not exactly Master material anymore, and Darla's a bitch, I guess when this is all over you're going to have to find someone else to sire."

Cordelia reappeared with two enormous mugs of steaming coffee. She handed them to the near sleeping witch and Watcher, who took them thankfully, drinking it down at such a speed that everyone in the room would've thought their mouths would start emitting large plumes of steam.

Buffy looked at her watch, saw that it was close to one in the morning, and asked Angel, "Should we show them to their rooms? It's getting pretty late, and we humans have an early day tomorrow. Lots of research."

Spike leaned down close to her and purred, "and necking, luv."

"Darla, Drusilla, you must be tired. Two rooms were decorated for you today, exactly how Angel and Spike remembered you'd like them." Buffy motioned politely to the two newly-souled vampiresses, and the four of them stepped into the elevator, taking it up to the third floor.

They showed Drusilla to her new room first. It was decorated in white and lavender, with a canopy bed that had a lush down comforter spread across it. Vases of fresh flowers were placed about the room. She opened the closet to find a few dresses in pastel shades. Her eyes were wide, and they shone with gratitude. She noticed the absence of mirrors and windows, and nodded approvingly. "Thank you. I haven't had somewhere this nice to stay in a very long time."

Buffy pointed to a naturally varnished door on one wall of the room. "The bathroom's in there. There should be everything you need. I ordered the makeup and toiletries this morning. They arrived a few hours ago. If you have any problems with your room, I'll be in the lobby at around 9:30 tomorrow morning. Don't worry, though, the entire hotel is sun proofed during the day."

Darla rolled her eyes. "Where's my room?" she asked impatiently.

"Have a nice rest, Drusilla," Buffy said kindly, somewhat shocked to realize she said it sincerely. The three blondes left the room, allowing Drusilla to continue to admire her temporary home.

Spike and Buffy led Darla down the hall to her own suite. When they opened the door, it revealed a lush bedroom decorated in sea tones. Instead of flowers, framed fine-art prints were hung on the walls. As with Drusilla's bedroom, there were no mirrors, however, thick, deep blue curtains covered French doors that opened onto a small balcony. The closet held a few brightly-colored skirts and monotone tank-tops, as well as a small leather jacket. There were also several pairs of shoes that would coordinate with whatever outfits she planned on wearing. A pair of leather pants, one of those Buffy had purchased at the mall for herself, lay folded on the shelf, tags still hanging from it. The bathroom was decorated to match the rest of the suite, with a sponge design of clamshells stenciled as a border across the top of the wall.

"The same things I said to Drusilla go for you as well. Sleep well, Darla."

Buffy breezed out of the room, with Spike trailing after her. They stepped back into the elevator, and exited when it reached the second floor.

Both Slayers hovered outside Buffy's bedroom door. She reached up and smoothed a stray lock of platinum hair out of his face. The air was tense with sexual energy. Spike leaned in and kissed her softly. It felt as though the tiniest bird had brushed its wing against her lips. She opened the door from behind her and stepped backwards into her room. Shutting the door slowly, she looked at her ex-mortal enemy with a look of complete tenderness in her eyes. When the door clicked shut, she sighed. She showered quickly, then dried her hair and put on a tank top and loose cotton pants. Later, she wouldn't have been able to say what had compelled her to leave her room and walk quickly down the hall to Spike's.

She knocked softly and waited for a few moments for him to answer. When he did, she had much difficulty keeping her jaw from dropping comically. He stood before her wearing nothing but a pair of black silk boxer shorts, his hair damp and honey-gold from the shower. She did, however, manage to keep her train of thought from completely derailing. "Hi."

He smiled. "Hi."

"I just realized, there's all this lust between us, but I don't know anything about you." She bit her lip. "And I'd like to. Know who you are, that is."

"Come in." He swept his arms wide and stepped aside, allowing her entrance. He then climbed into his bed and motioned for her to join him. Her eyes widened, but he quickly reassured her. "Trust me, Buffy. Whatever evil it is that we'd unleash if we did make love, I'm not partial to meeting it. You're completely safe from me."

But am I safe from myself? she wondered. She climbed under the covers and lay stiffly on her back, at least a foot separating them. Spike soon remedied that. He pulled her to him, tucking her in the crook of his shoulder so that her head rested on his chest. She soon warmed to this position, allowing her free hand to fall across his abdomen. For the next few hours they lay like that, Spike telling the story of his life, Buffy listening avidly. After about three and a half hours, Spike noticed that Buffy was breathing evenly, and snoring softly. It was difficult for him to fall asleep, but exhaustion finally claimed him.

When Willow went upstairs at 10 am, she knocked on Buffy's door, and when nobody answered, she let herself in. The bed had not been slept in. So she crept down the hall to Spike's room, and silently opened his door. Both Slayers were fast asleep. The covers had fallen to just below their waists, revealing the waistband of Spike's boxers. Buffy was curled into her former enemy, his bare chest her pillow, and he held her to him protectively with one strong arm, the fabric of her tank top bunching where his hand rested. The scene was so beautifully innocent that she dared not wake them, so she exited the room as noiselessly as she had entered.

The click of the latch resonated through the room and Buffy stirred. She noticed two things. She was snuggled up to a warm, well-built, male body, and she was fully clothed. Opening her eyes, she lifted her head to see who said warm, well-built body belonged to. And looked into the sleeping face of Spike. She was preparing to be shocked, when she remembered the previous night's occurrences. He had told her the story of his life, and she had simply drifted off.

She stroked his cheek softly, and he mumbled something, his eyelids fluttering. Sighing, she decided to use other methods to awaken him. She moved gracefully up his body, careful not to move him, and kissed him gently. Even in half-sleep, he responded.

After a few minutes of long, tender kisses, she drew back, kissing him on the cheek. "Good morning."

He was fully awake now, and his blue eyes looked deeply into hers. "'Morning, luv. That was the best alarm clock ever invented." His eyes got a wicked twinkle in them as he continued. "Well, almost the best alarm clock ever invented. I promise you, after this bloody waiting period, I'll show you the best alarm clock."

"Only if you promise to wake me with it every morning." She grinned, kissing his lips softly again. She then glanced at the clock and shot out of the bed. "Oh, shoot!"

Spike rolled off the bed and stood next to her, asking softly, "What is it, luv?"

She sighed. "I told everyone that I'd be downstairs for breakfast an hour ago. I have to go." She quickly exited the room, and headed for her own bedroom, where she pulled on a pair of black, tight-fitting pants and a black tank-top, then pulled on her boots and tied back her hair. She applied a small amount of makeup, put on some deodorant, and raced down the stairs. She ran into Angel, who apparently had just been on his way to rouse her, because he followed her back downstairs.

"Good morning, everybody," she greeted. "How was breakfast? Sorry I'm late, I guess I was sleepier than I thought." She poured herself a glass of juice before sitting at one end of the long table.

Willow smiled slightly. "We were just talking about how to wipe these demons out. Xander wants to know if he can use a real gun."

"Can you fire a real gun, Xand?" Buffy teased. "What kind of gun are we talking here? No rocket launchers, please."

Xander pouted jokingly. "Aww, but Buff, I wanted to bring my bazooka collection!"

"As long as you know what you're doing�" Buffy consented.

Xander stood. "If you'll excuse me, I need to special-order some rounds." He walked out of the room and into the office, where he closed the door, then picked up the phone and dialed the number of the privately-owned artillery factory that he'd made connections with.

Meanwhile, Spike decided finally to dress. He chose a pair of fairly snug, dark-colored jeans and a medium blue tee-shirt with a darker blue Hawaiian floral pattern silk-screened across the chest in a thin line. Pausing in the bathroom at the mirror and slathering his hair with gel, he drew his comb up as if to slick it back, as usual, but then shook his head and ran his fingers through it a few times, giving it a tousled, slightly windblown look. This done, he shaved the stubble from his face with a dry razor, pulled on his Doc Martens, and left the room.

When he got downstairs, everyone was busy doing their own thing. He walked up to Wesley. "Morning, Wesley. What do I need to do?"

The Watcher looked at him scrutinously. "Do you have swim trunks and sandals?"

"What?"

"Here. Take this money�" he pressed a wad of cash into Spike's hand, "� and get yourself a pair of swim trunks and sandals. Buffy suggested that anyone who doesn't have an aversion to sunlight go to the beach today. Apparently it is a destresser. Oh, and get yourself some strong sunscreen, as well. We don't want you burning."

He pushed Spike out the door, handing him a pair of silver-framed Oakley sunglasses as he did so. "Wear these. I don't think your eyes will be ready for sunlight."

Spike sighed, bewildered, but walked out into the day. He walked for a short time before he heard the thudding of footsteps coming up behind him. Small, strong arms encircled his waist from behind. He lifted one arm to see who had tackled him, and Buffy's head poked out from beneath it. "Hiya, Spike. I decided to come with and make sure you didn't buy the cheapest pair of trunks in the store. You're alive, and you live in California, so you'll be using them a lot."

"Hmm." He pulled her up so that they were walking side-by-side, then draped an arm about her shoulders. "Don't let me buy gaudy ones, though, luv."

They walked to the nearest surf store, where Buffy led Spike to the board shorts section. He held up a fluorescent orange pair. Buffy wrinkled her nose in disgust.

This pair was followed by black, yellow, red, magenta, and neon green. All of which she declined. She went to the rack and pulled off a pair of mottled dark blue and black shorts, and nodded approvingly.

"What, you mean you didn't like the pink ones?" he asked in mock surprise. He took the shorts from her and she punched him softly in the arm� at least, softly enough so he didn't feel any bones snap or go flying across the room. He winced, and allowed her to lead him over to the sandals. Five minutes later, they had paid, and walked back to the Hyperion. Spike had bought his own pair of Oakleys at the shop, and handed Wesley his back when they entered the building.

Everyone who was going to the beach had begun to pack their things. Willow and Cordelia were busy making a picnic lunch.

Buffy went upstairs to put her swimsuit on beneath her clothes. Drusilla was waiting outside her door for her. She was wearing one of her new dresses, and had left her hair flowing in ringlets. It made her seem a complete innocent. "Slayer�" she began.

"Oh, for the time being, call me Buffy. When the soul wears off, you can go back to referring to me by my job." Buffy smiled. "What can I do for you?"

Drusilla spoke softly. "We are going to be fighting demons, correct?"

The blond woman nodded.

"Oh, dear, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, all these clothes that you've bought for me are so lovely, it's just I�" she trailed off, slightly flustered.

"You don't think they're very good fighting clothes?" Buffy opened her door. "I might have something that would fit you." She walked into the room, Drusilla following her. Buffy opened her closet doors and rummaged through her things. "Nope, I don't think leather would be right for you, it's an acquired taste. Hmm. These are too short. Ah. Here we go." She pulled a pair of nearly black jeans out of the closet. "Try these on. I'll see if I can find you a shirt." She pulled shirt after shirt out of her closet before she settled on a dark red, long-sleeved v-neck. "These colors are best for fighting. They hide stains." She quickly grabbed a pair of black leather ankle boots out of the back of the closet and handed them to the vampiress.

After pulling on the boots, Drusilla spun around, asking "How do I look?"

"To die for. Oops, sorry about the pun there. You can keep the outfit. That way, the next time you want to kill me, you'll remember that I gave you these kick-ass ass-kicking clothes." Buffy gathered Dru's other clothing up and handed it to her, saying "Everyone that can is going to the beach today. We'll be back before nightfall."

"Have fun, Sl-Buffy. And thank you again." The brunette vampiress exited the room breezily.

The blond quickly changed into her black one-piece. A bikini, she decided, would be too much for Spike to handle considering their situation. Not to mention, she couldn't very well fight a sea monster in a two-piece, if such problems arose. She pulled a pair of cutoff shorts and a thin tanktop over the swimsuit, then slipped on her flip flops. She had tossed her sunscreen, sunglasses, towel, and other items into a cloth bag earlier, and she now picked it up and walked out of the room. She closed the door, then walked to the stairs, where she slid down the banister, then hopped off before she hit the pillar.

Xander cocked an eyebrow. "Good mood?" He had changed into a blue and red Hawaiian print shirt and khaki shorts. Cordelia and Willow stood beside him, the brunette having decided to go for the 'nearly invisible' look and the redhead covered in a thin wraparound skirt and black tank top.

She nodded vigorously. "I haven't been to the beach in such a long time�" Glancing around the room, she spotted Angel. Setting her bag down, she walked over to him and said like a small child, "Angel, I like Drusilla with a soul. Can we keep her?"

The tall man chuckled. "I think you may want to talk to her about that."

Spike walked down the stairs, clad in swim trunks and black flip-flops, with a white beater barely covering his chest. He pulled out his wallet and looked at Angel. Angel slipped him something colorful and plastic. He stuck it quickly in the front of the weathered wallet, then put the wallet itself back into his pocket. Buffy cocked an eyebrow but said nothing.

Wesley entered the room, zinc oxide already on his nose. He wore a muscle shirt that fit him loosely and a pair of green athletic shorts, along with a pair of Birkenstocks. Noticing the funny looks he was receiving, he asked plainly, "What?" and was answered by a chorus of laughter.

Finally, five minutes later, Gunn walked in. He was wearing his usual dark hooded sweatshirt, oversize jeans, and work boots. He nodded at everyone, ignoring the looks of confusion, and went straight into the coatroom. When he exited less than a minute later, he had changed into a pair of rust-orange swim trunks, and a short-sleeved white button-down shirt, the buttons however neglected. He received a round of applause for the fastest clothing change ever recorded, and as he took his bows, he slipped his Adidas sandals, which he had been holding in his hands, onto his feet.

Cordelia spoke. "Now I know why you always wear such baggy clothes. You could wear anything under there."

Angel tossed the keys to his convertible at Spike, who caught them and asked, "Okay, kiddies, everyone ready to go to the beach?"

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R to NC-17