"Are you sure this will work?" Willow questioned uncomfortably from her position on the floor beside Tara's bed. The teen fidgeted and picked at the bottom of her shirt. She was clearly an emotional wreck at the moment and Tara wondered if hugging her would help. Unsure of the reception that bit of affection and support would return, Tara simply nodded quickly as she took the single calla lily bloom and placed it in the center of a small circle of sand. The bloom was the only one Willow had been able to salvage from the shattered remains after Giles smashed the vase against the rock wall in the school ruins.

"It's only a-a s-simple preservation sp-sp-spell," her new friend replied as she lit three white candles and offered a silent prayer to the Great Mother for assistance. "It just dries the flower. L-l-like it would if you hung it upside down in a warm, dark, dry place for a few weeks."

Willow smiled happily in response to Tara's explanation. It was the first positive expression she had shared since she arrived at Tara's room earlier in the afternoon. Willow offered her thanks before focusing once more on her friend's spell.

Tara returned the grin with a soft one of her own as she sprinkled some salt over the flower and whispered a short incantation. The candles flickered then extinguished. The soft-spoken Wicca retrieved the now stiffly dried bloom from the center of the circle and held it towards Willow.

"Why d-d-did you want to save it?" the teen questioned. She was slightly confused and quite worried about her companion's current mental state and feared she wasn't thinking rationally. She wasn't acting like the sweet and even tempered Willow she had come to know and care about.

When Willow had arrived at her room at lunch time, she had been thrilled to see her. Despite her own excitement at the visit, Tara had immediately noticed how agitated the other girl seemed. She had invited the redhead into her room and encouraged her to share what was bother her. Willow had then rushed through the fantastic story of the near apocalypse and how her friend, Buffy, had saved the world by wedding a vampire. Although the young woman was happy that the world was not facing immediate doom, Tara did not understand why Willow would want to preserve something as a keepsake for her friend. A reminder of a forced marriage didn't seem like a reason to celebrate in her book.

Willow gently took the offered flower and twirled it slowly.

"I think Buffy may want it some day," she expressed. Her face took on a contemplative countenance as she really considered her motives. She frowned slightly as she searched for the proper words to explain the spiritual experience she had last night during the ceremony.

"The old ones that we called upon during the ritual... it was like they moved through us. I have never felt so connected with the world. I could feel so much. The earth, the fire, the air, and the water. The elemental forces sang in my body and I knew... I knew that they were truly blessing Buffy and Spike. It felt... right. Like right on a scale I would never have considered. Cosmically right even. As if the entire world rejoiced at the joining."

"Sounds beautiful," Tara whispered.

Willow sighed happily.

"It was," she gushed as she reached out and grabbed Tara's hand. "It was beautiful and powerful and..."

"It was right," the redhead repeated firmly. "Vampire, Slayer, it didn't matter. It was just right."

"I want to support that rightness," Willow stated proudly. "Even if all I can do is preserve a flower so that Buffy will have it as a keepsake sometime when she feels the same way I do. I want her to know that she and Spike have my support. I mean, sure, Spike is still all with the Grrr, evil, but I still know it will somehow work."

Tara shifted her arm until she could properly grasp Willow's hand. She squeezed tightly as she encouraged Willow to follow what her heart felt best. Willow glowed in response. Giddiness swept over the young woman as she clutched at her friend's hand. The positive regard she saw in Tara's eyes gave her the strength to admit the other thought that had been bouncing around in her head ever since she was touched by the elements of power.

"I want to learn about the elements," she admitted in excitement. "They whispered to me and touched me so intimately last night. I want to understand how they work and how I can work with them."

Willow held her breath as she worried whether Tara would condemn her for her desire to touch such primal forces once again.

For a moment, the blonde Wicca was silent. She ducked her head and her long hair fell to cover part of her face as she spoke to the carpet instead of her friend.

"I d-d-don't know much about the elements. Simple spells, those my mother taught me. I can't touch c-c-cosmic scale type things. M-M-Maybe you c-c-could find someone who does?" she suggested as she glanced nervously up at her companion. Her heart clenched in her chest. The young witch hated to admit a failing to Willow. She feared that the other girl would turn away from her if she could not give her what she needed and wanted. Tara couldn't stand the thought of losing her new friend. Her heart was already lost to her.

Willow reached out and tucked one side of Tara's hair behind her ear. She offered her a grin filled with affection.

"Maybe we could learn together when we find a teacher?"

Tara raised her head and smiled softly.

"I would like n-n-nothing better," she replied earnestly as the Wicca reached out and brushed her hand over Willow's knee. She really was excited at the chance of spending more time with Willow and couldn't help but think that learning about the elements together would be a truly lovely chance for them both to grow not only in power but also hopefully in closeness.

A door slamming and a neighbor yelling pulled Giles from his sleep. He sat up and groaned as his body protested the movement. His shifting caused an empty bottle of scotch to roll from the table and shatter on the hard wood floor. Through bleary eyes, the Brit looked around his flat while his head pounded in time with his heartbeat. From the light through the window, he suspected it was close to supper time. Pushing back from the table, Rupert stood and attempted to work loose the kink in his back. He moaned. He was getting too old for sleeping slumped at a table. The room swam and he fought the urge to vomit. He was getting too old to pickle himself with cheap scotch too.

Stepping over the broken glass on the way to the kitchen, Giles stopped and retrieved a large book that was laying open on the ground. The spine was broken and some of the pages had come loose. Rupert leaned against a new and sharp edged dent in the drywall and wondered for a moment why the book had taken such abuse. He respected the written word too much to condone abusing such important research material.

The hang over funk folded back slightly and he suddenly remembered why he had thrown the book in a drunken rage. He dropped the book and rushed the couple steps into his bathroom. Throwing himself at the toilet, he barely had time to lift the lid before he was heaving into the bowl. He purged his system of bile and dry heaved for a few more minutes as the room spun out of sync with the pounding in his head.

Shaken, Giles shifted from kneeling by the toilet until he was sitting with his back against the sink cabinet. He tilted his head back and groaned.

"It's my fault," he moaned as he banged the back of his head against the cabinet door. The pain from the blows didn't begin to approach the roaring in his head from his over indulgence of alcohol when he returned from the Hellmouth this morning.

The British gentleman fully blamed himself for the disaster that forced his Slayer to marry William the Bloody. He shuddered to think what else she had been forced to endure as a result of his negligence. Being compelled to share her body and blood with the obnoxious vampire was a cruel torture that the Watcher imagined would ultimately damage his Slayer's psyche beyond repair.

Rupert cussed softly. Slayers lived short and violent lives. He firmly believed Buffy had survived as long as she had not only because of her skills and quick thinking but also because she held a hope for something better in her heart. Tears rimmed the Watcher's eyes as his guts clenched with dread. He feared that the union with Spike would destroy Buffy's ability to hope. Without hope, he suspected she would not live much longer. His firmly believed that his failure had, in essence, condemned his Slayer to death.

"Why didn't I listen to her?" he lamented aloud as he once more smacked his already throbbing head against the sink. Buffy had come to him with her concerns but he had been too busy trying to prove his own importance with his stupid obsession with the commando sightings to even give her anxieties their proper attention. He didn't even want to dwell on his stupidity in regards to the Word of Valios. He had made an utter mess of the entire affair.

Giles pushed himself upwards. Once standing, he closed his eyes and fought against his body's urge to vomit once more. The room continued to spin and Rupert was forced to grab at the sink top to keep from pitching wildly in response to the rotating room. After he felt confident in his ability to stand without falling, the Watcher opened his eyes and stared hard at his reflection in he mirror. He was not happy with what he saw. His eyes were bloodshot and dark circles rimmed their edges. His hair was unkempt and his clothes wrinkled. Disgusted with himself, Giles washed his face and hands. He reached for the towel hanging haphazardly on the bar and he realized how wrong everything felt. He dried himself then returned the towel to the bar. This time, he folded it and placed it neatly in place.

For too long, Rupert had been existing outside himself. The Brit had been coasting through his life for months. He had allowed the important parts of himself, the things that made him a positive force for good in the life of his Slayer, to fall away. He was responsible for his own behaviors and he was appalled with his current circumstances. He had to change things now before his Slayer or the world suffered even more because of his failures. With a sense of renewed purpose, he turned and exited the bathroom.

He paused for a moment and stared around his flat. He cringed at the mess. Books were strewn across every surface and in no type of order. He had boxes of spell components, weapons and mystical items stashed all over the room. Again, there was no rhyme or reason to their placement. They had all just been chucked into packaging before the destruction of the library and never really found a proper place after the explosion.

"What have I been doing the past few months?" Rupert wondered in horror as he seriously looked at his recent life. He had been lost. His path had become unclear after being fired from the Watcher's Council last year. Despite that upheaval in his life, he had muddled through until they defeated the Mayor. With the destruction of Sunnydale High though, he had lost more of his way. Without the structure of daily work in the library, he had slipped further from his proper way. Now, he found himself lost completely. The children he had mentored for years no longer needed him as an adviser. In fact, they were no longer children at all.

Giles shook his head. They were growing beyond his narrow scope. They didn't need a teacher any longer. Giles once more bent and picked up the hated book that outlined the Expiation of Three. They no longer needed a mentor but he still had something to offer. He could have a proper place in the life of his Slayer. He would just need to find where he fit now that she had grown and changed. He realized that he could be a proper support to an adult Slayer if he made the effort.

With his decision made to embrace life and duty once more, Giles took a step forward. His loafer crunched on shattered glass. He glanced down and his eyes narrowed. That was something that needed to stop also. The drinking contributed to his ineffectiveness and deepened the depression he had been fighting. The Watcher gently placed the much abused tome on the table and moved towards the kitchen to retrieve the broom and dust pan.

Like the younger Scoobies had already started, it was time for him to grow some more too. With any luck, he would be able to keep pace with them and not be left behind.

Xander Harris pocketed his meager tip from his last pizza delivery of the night and headed back towards his vehicle. He was exhausted from their long night preventing the end of the world last night with too little sleep before work but he was also edgy. He had a nervous energy rushing through his body as if he had indulged in five or six super sized mocha espressos. He tossed the empty, insulated bag onto the passenger side of his beat up vehicle and put his key into the ignition. It took three tries for his car to actually start and he sighed in short lived relief when the engine finally caught.

For a moment, Xander considered driving towards the college and visiting with Willow and Buffy. He figured a bit of friend time before bedtime might make him feel a bit better. A sharp pain in his chest reminded the teen that perhaps visiting his friends wasn't the best idea right now. He didn't want to hear about how Buffy's night with Spike ended. The Slayer might have been forced to marry the vampire to save the world but Xander really didn't want to hear about the gory details. Truthfully, he didn't even want to think about the sacrifice at all. It just made him mad at the world.

Xander pulled off his hat and tossed it onto the top of the pizza delivery bag. He hated delivering pizza. Who would have thought spending so much time with cheesy, saucy goodness would fill him with an actual loathing of what had been a favorite snack. The teen couldn't see himself lasting much longer working at Mr. White's Pizza. He hated the position. In fact, he hated most of the useless jobs he had taken since graduation.

The young man sighed. He just wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do. It wasn't like his resume was teeming with knowledge that would make him appealing to potential employers. There wasn't much call in the workforce for Slayer side-kick and possible bait. His academic life in school had been miserable at best. He wasn't a wiz on a computer like Willow. He didn't have any musical talent like Oz. Unlike Giles, books were not his thing. Unfortunately, he really didn't know what his thing was. The teen snorted. For once, he had to admit that he was happy his thing was not being a Slayer. He played with the idea that he would have let the world be a bit singed by hell if marrying Spike was the only solution.

"Life sucks," he muttered to himself as he put the car in gear. He offered a silent apology to Buffy and Willow. He just wasn't ready to face them and their reality just yet.

Xander angled his clunker into the tiny lot off the alley behind the pizza joint. He frowned and scrambled for the door as he saw one of the older prep cooks struggling against a little brunette who had him backed against the faded bricks near the dumpster. Once his door opened, Xander could hear the older guy, Pete, yelling a garbled call for help as the vampire shoved his hands aside and dove towards his neck. Sprinting with all he was worth, the teen fumbled in his pocket for a stake as his feet pounded across the tiny bit of black top. He saw the vamp bite her victim just before he reached the duo. The brunette lifted her head from her dinner with a cry of pain as she dusted. Sucking air into his lungs from his unexpected sprint, Xander took a step back from his dazed co-worker. He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees while he tried to catch his breath.

"What the hell was that?" yelled the panicked older man as he grabbed at the oozing wound on his neck.

"Gotta love Sunnydale's undead night life, dude," Xander replied sarcastically as he stood and grabbed for the dropped trash bags the prep cook had obviously been taking out to the dumpster before he became a midnight snack for the undead. Xander tossed the bags into the trash receptacle before turning back to his still flustered co-worker.

"How did you do that?" Pete questioned as he edged his way from the dark corner towards the back door to the restaurant. His eyes kept flitting towards the pile of swirling dust that used to be his attacker. Inside seemed like a much safer bet to the shaken older guy.

"Stake in the heart," Xander replied with a casual shrug as he held the stake towards his companion. "Wooden sticks, not just good for toasting marshmallows."

The guy reached towards the wooden weapon with a hopeful look on his face. Xander handed over the stake willingly. It wasn't like he didn't have another one in his opposite pocket and half a dozen more in the car. The prep cook stared at the wooden stake for a moment.

"Thanks," he stated as he turned to enter the back of the building. He clutched the simple weapon like a lifeline.

Xander moved towards his car to retrieve his delivery bag and hat. His co-worker called out to him from his place by the heavy metal door at the back of the building. The prep cook was staring at the wooden stake and running his fingers over the smoothed surface of the weapon.

"You make this yourself?" Pete asked as his fingers found not a single rough edge on the carved bit of wood.

Xander nodded as he closed his car door. Tucking the delivery bag under his arm, the teen slammed his hat on his head and joined Pete by the door.

"I've been carving them for years," the teen admitted.

Pete glanced at the weapon. He nodded to himself once before asking Xander if he liked delivering pizza.

"Isn't exactly my dream job," he replied. "Although at least it isn't working as a prison guard."

Pete almost asked why working as a prison guard was even in the mix but decided to jump to his point.

"Ever consider working with wood?" the prep cook inquired as his hand smoothed over the edge of the stake one more time.

"My brother is a carpenter and he is always looking for decent help."

Xander appeared skeptical for a moment.

"He wouldn't need help digging up old ruins, would he?" Xander asked as he remembered his last attempt at construction. The teen could stand to never again have vengeance spirit induced diseases.

Once again, Pete shook his head in confusion at the teen's seemingly random comment.

"Um, no. I don't think so. He does framing work for a local construction company. He also does some custom cabinetry as a side business. I could have him give you a call if you might be interested in carpentry."

Once more, Pete held up Xander's stake.

"You seem to have a knack for it," Pete complimented.

Xander considered the offer for a moment before nodding.

"Sure. I'd like a chance to talk with him," the teen decided with a grin.

"Great," Pete replied as he moved into the back of the restaurant. The older man rambled a bit about how great his older brother was and how much Xander would like him.

Xander chuckled. The longer he listened to Pete, the more he was glad he came back to the pizza joint instead of heading over to the campus. Not only had he saved the prep cook's life, but he also found his next job opportunity. Who knew? Maybe carpentry was going to be the right fit for him. It had to be better than delivering pizza. Xander shrugged and tossed his delivery bag and hat onto the shelf in the utility area of the restaurant. A tiny bit of infectious optimism skipped through his mind. At least for him in this moment, perhaps the world didn't quite totally suck.

Awareness came slowly. It fought its way free from the darkness and the Slayer took the moment of quiet to take stock of her body. She ached. It wasn't a new or unexpected way to awaken. Given the time she spent in combat with supernaturally strong beings, not having a twinge or two of discomfort as she pulled from slumber would actually have been of particular note. In the back of her sleepy brain, Buffy cataloged each pain. Her head throbbed. Her stomach felt a bit queasy and her mouth seemed like a veritable cotton field. Her arm ached sharply and the muscles in her legs and stomach seemed overly fatigued. She was desperately thirsty but an unexpected lethargy suffused her body to the point that she couldn't imagine moving to actually get a drink.

Like a curtain being opened to the dawn, the sleep fog suddenly withdrew and memory returned. Buffy swallowed as she remembered why she felt the way she did. She had been wrestling with a demon last night. It just wasn't wrestling in the manner she normally battled. A blush rose on her skin and a feathery touch ghosted over the warming flesh. Buffy opened her eyes and met the steady blue gaze of her bed mate whose fingertip was trailing gently over her embarrassment tainted skin. Spike was reclining beside her with his head resting on his bent elbow and his body turned to face her. A strange little smile that did uncomfortable and unmentionable things to Buffy's stomach slipped across her husband's lips.

Husband. That was a thought that was going to take some serious time to get used to it.

Buffy swallowed again and the light blush on her cheeks bloomed into a full face attack that then swept down her neck. She gulped air nervously and lowered her eyelids to hide the unexpected rush of confusion. It was the first time she had ever woken beside a guy with whom she shared an intimate moment. That would have been uncomfortable for the teen even if the man wasn't her mortal enemy turned husband. Given her lack of experience, the teen wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation. The queasy feeling in her stomach grew until it felt like she had swallowed a horde of bugs that were skittering crazily through her guts. She mentally clamored for a way to relieve her anxiety.

"You're here," Buffy stated with a hint of amazement tinting her soft voice but mostly it was edged with a subtle kind of fear.

Spike raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"Sorry to disappoint," the vampire replied with an unexpected touch of pain in his normally snarky tone. Suddenly feeling a lot more grumpy and a lot less amused, Spike shifted away from Buffy. He laid on his back and stared morosely at the ceiling. Silently, he berated himself for the passing moment of thinking this morning might be anything other than a disaster.

Buffy frowned.

"Not actually disappointed," the teen admitted. She paused. "Huh, I'm really not," she repeated with an answering bit of amazement in her expression.

The Slayer gathered the sheet against her naked body and shimmied herself into a sitting position. She leaned back against the headboard and wiggled a bit to loosen more blanket. She self-consciously tucked the sheet around her chest for modesty's sake. Being totally naked with someone she had previously wanted dust was not helping the teen with her disjointed feelings. In an attempt to avoid looking at the vampire beside her on the bed, Buffy glanced about the room. She noticed two glasses of water sitting on the nightstand. She immediately grabbed for one. It was slightly warm but not yet room temperature. The water disappeared down her throat with a sigh. Setting aside the empty glass, Buffy took the second one. Before she drank it, Buffy turned her attention back to her silent companion.

"You get these for me?" she asked quietly.

Spike rolled his eyes.

"Well, it wasn't the bloody maid service," he grumbled as he wondered why the hell he had even bothered. It wasn't like his efforts meant anything. It had just seemed like the right thing to do. Spike had woken up soon after the sun set and had lain in bed watching his wife innocently sleep. It had made him feel strange. Echoes of dreams long forgotten had tripped through his mind and he had gotten out of bed and retrieved the water in an attempt to clear the strange resonance from his head.

Confused further by the vampire's harsh tone, Buffy reached out and brushed her fingers over his arm. Her tentative touch drew Spike's gaze from the ceiling back to face.

"Thank you," Buffy offered with an encouraging smile.

For a heartbeat, the vampire stared hard at the Slayer. He then shook his head slightly and levered himself up into a sitting position. Unlike the teen, he didn't clamor to cover himself with the sheet and the cheap cotton ended up precariously pooled in his lap. Buffy watched the slide of the cover as it shifted to reveal the muscles of Spike's chest and abdomen. The blush that had been fading roared back into life with a vengeance.

Spike chuckled. He couldn't help himself. For all her fierce warrior attitude and bravado, Buffy still showed a hint of vulnerable innocence that he found equal parts amusing and intriguing.

"You're welcome," the vampire grumbled. "Now drink your water."

Again, Spike was surprised when the normally contrary teen actually followed his directions. He watched her throat work as the second glass of fluid followed the first. The vamp groaned softly with the desire to sink his fangs into the side of her exposed skin. Her skin was so soft and smooth and the blood under it seemed to sing like a siren to his unbeating heart. After only one taste, he knew he was addicted. Spike couldn't wait until he was offered his next treat. A joyful grin broke across his face as he once more realized that he had an entire year worth of treats coming his way.

When Buffy moved to replace the empty glass on the nightstand, she jumped as a gentle finger trailed over her exposed shoulder. The teen whipped her head around to stare at the evilly smiling vampire. She shivered and clutched the sheet more firmly against her body when she saw the expression on his face. There was a possessive and almost feral gleam in his eyes that would have frightened even more experienced women. As it was, the vampire's shift in appearance pricked at the Slayer's survival instincts. Buffy tensed as she tried to convince herself that Spike really couldn't hurt her. Despite her mental reminder, her right hand knotted into a fist.

"No," she quietly told herself. She needed the verbal directive. It served as a reminder that she was married to the man beside her and that she couldn't just hit him in response to her fears. That wasn't the way marriage was supposed to work. You didn't abuse your spouse. Even if he was a vampire. In her still slightly naive eyes, some things were just wrong and Buffy didn't want to see herself as being that type of a person. She may be a warrior and a slayer of evil but she would not be abusive to someone who was not hurting her or others.

The whispered word that sounded more like a plea made said vampire pause in his slow movement to get closer to his wife. He frowned in confusion as he wondered if the no was meant for him. After that thought, came the wonder if he even cared if the no was directed at him. It wasn't like his conscious was pricking at him about it. No had never stopped him in the past. Before he could answer the unexpected question in his own mind, he noticed the Slayer's fist angling towards his head. He flinched in anticipation of the awkward strike to his skull. Instead of a blow though, fingers sunk into his hair and tugged gently at his loosened curls.

Spike froze as Buffy's hand continued to move over his scalp. The vampire just barely caught himself from snorting. The Slayer was petting him. That was not what he had been expecting. It also didn't mean he didn't like it. The gentle touch momentarily soothed his ragged nerves. For all that Buffy was a confused mess, Spike wasn't much better. Once more, the blasted Slayer had shaken his world and tossed him into the unknown. It was beyond disquieting. Deciding to ignore his raging thoughts and enjoy the momentary affection, Spike just focused on the warm caresses.

While he had been drinking from her arm, Buffy had found that she could distract her instinctual response of violence towards the undead demon by concentrating on the tactile pleasure of touching Spike's hair. It had served as a focus for her thoughts and fears while he was feeding and Buffy hoped that the distraction would work again. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feeling of her fingers shifting. It had much the same effect as petting a cat purring on ones lap. There was a reason therapy animals helped. The repeating and comforting motions quieted the churning emotions in the Slayer's body. Her blood pressure lowered and her breathing slowed. She felt Spike move towards her and she shifted into a better position as his head brushed against her side.

"Not a sodding labdog," Spike growled against Buffy's thigh as he settled his head a bit more comfortably into her lap.

Buffy's hand paused in its travels over his scalp.

"Um, didn't think you were," she replied incredulously. The Slayer couldn't imagine why Spike would think she saw him as a pet. The aggressive vampire could never be seen as pet-like. There was nothing fluffy about him. If anything, he was more the snarling rabid guard dog type animal. A service animal, not a pet. She smiled softly. Guard dogs where loyal and Spike's devotion to Dru had been obvious. Fleetingly, Buffy wondered if she kept him properly chained and gave him proper attention if he would come to be loyal to her. She shook her head at the fanciful image.

Her fingers returned to their pattern of petting. Spike sighed in contentment and Buffy's shoulders relaxed. The tension that had been building as she worried seemed to slip away as easily as her fingers slipped through her husband's curls. Her fear of Spike's possible possessiveness and his fear of being less than a full demon slowly faded. Blood lust quieted. Anger at the unfairness of the world's expectations slithered to the back of Buffy's mind. Neither knew how they were going to proceed in their relationship. They didn't know where Spike was going to live. They didn't know how Buffy's friends and family were ultimately going to react to their relationship. They didn't even know how they were going to define their relationship to themselves. All they did know was that in this moment, both the Slayer and the vampire held a tiny bit of peace that touched their minds, their bodies and their spirits. In that moment, this peace was enough.